death lesson 12

12

                                        ***

    I
                                    solve
Post-modernism: the deconstruction of
       an irony for its own sake.
Walking through the stars as if inside of a football.

So she was still alive, seventeen, and confused, frustrated, no, dissolving in the trinity of juxtaposed verbs. Her hair was short and naturally spiked like dunes of sand. Jolene Irish, "am I a lesbian?" she thought "how selfish of me, he is gone damned and at the very least dead to the known world. Like some fish belly up so rotten and bloated the seagulls won't eat it.  Poisoned? By Toxins? No, I am fine. I just have not been this high in a long while." 
   Majoun: a strong hashish confection was eating away at her problems and her delusions of separation from creation. The fudge, though quickly ate, was slow to restore her to god.  Words were separate from her alive like fish poisoned and dissolving from it. They were not her but of her, "that author, the one that writes the 'sincere' books that are sincere knockoffs of Pynchon but he write about tennis. I feel like he is hitting me with a racket, back and forth. His opponent is a death impulse, and I want him to give up. Sincerity needs a win now and then."
   She is naked in the shower and imagines everyone can see her. She provides commentary on what she is thinking about. Fingers herself like a fish on a hook, then unsure if it is the drugs says "no, no," giving up, throwing a towel on she goes to find something to eat.
   Liam is in the kitchen "how long were you there" she says after closing the fridge. Seeing the small decayed spirit sitting on a chair in the womb-like darkness.  "We have to save, Alex." said Liam "There is nothing we can do," she said, "wait...why are you not scared?" "Your just a delusion inspired by something that someone thought would be 'funny' to spike my 'Canibus fudge' with." Liam thought about this then said "no, I am dead, I am a ghost. You are talking to a ghost while you happen to be high." "I will play ball, strangely specific hallucination. Who are you and why do you give a damn about my boyfriend? And how do you know what cannabis is at your age...how old are you?" "Me and my dad used to smoke it when I was alive. It was the only time I felt like he wasn't an asshole. also, I have been dead a few years, so I don't know?"
                
                   * * *

                                                          II
                                   coagula
      He that is filthy: or, the best I can do.

                  "Now THAT is a demented homosexual!"
                                                           - From a youtube comment: on the naked lunch audiobook.

Trembling associations, coming down with a ghost. Reaching out to the dead and feeling things beyond the spirit, living things inside the void. In the beginning, there were monsters. Cartoon speak to her as they talk to me: Liam, our little ghost staring into the eyes a very stoned teenager. Wandering, "why did I hide? What can a penguin do to me? Am I not dead? Are there not at least some benefits to being dead." Then with doubt, he said aloud. "I was the son of the man who used to hurt Alex and maybe I was the one who saved him." Half was dozing the other nodding: Jolene listened confused, overwhelmed as to what hope there was that they could save her boyfriend. "Yeah," she said "I understand" she continued. but the little ghost looked at her doubtful smiling with hands crossed on his lap.
  When she passed out, He covered her with a blanket, on the couch: green in the flicker of the television though more blue with the light on. He flew away thinking about things as elusive as what is appropriate for the dead to feel. his innocence and what age he was emotionally. "am I a little person or, a child?" he thought. then maybe feeling bad, for anyone reading this book who might be a little person said: "I guess I am a child still."
   He sat on the kitchen table copping what he thought was a meditation pose from the beginning of a video game that will not be mentioned for copyright reasons. The tip of his thumb on his index finger, on both hands, while legs crossed. He enhailed and exhaled through his mouth (as his nose was gone). Letting his mind bounce from here to there, one word, however, was consistent: Coagula. Solve et coagula, meaning "dissolve and coagulate." He had heard it from an Alan Moor documentary on that youtube. Mr' Moor was his best friend Alex's favorite writer "from hell" his friend had told him ounce "is prophetic." neither he nor his friend pursued the statement, so it was a mic drop in the ghost's memories. To the little spirit though the point was that if things had been taken apart, then, surely they must eventually be put back together.
   Then his mind, though still meditating flickered like the television light covering Jolene. And he saw and felt his earliest memory "I have a friend, I have a friend" chanted Liam to his father who is staring at his son and said plainly "you will never see that kid again so stop acting like a queer." He can't remember more than that, who was the kid who was supposed to be his friend? Why was Liam not with his grandmother? Like most early memories it is more like a photograph with a handful of words attached than the narratives we learn to construct later in life. Liam felt alone but resisted his urge to be emotional, and instead focused on his breathing. Putting into practice what my therapist calls "absolute acceptance."