Random Incoherences

4 score and twenty years ago, land was created by our great lord and savior, or rather, his cousin, but I digress…

And I forgave him despite his lossinlgy end of days — it was too much for us to move on in synchrony, pulsing in the wake of each other’s acquiescence. And so it ended in a most disagreeable manner.

I rand own the stairs of the post office, the vodka I’d taken that afternoon having worked its way through.

Did someone say “Damage control?”
How is _Damage Control_ related to _Pain Control_?

2/23 Exercises

Words: Wiser, Slot, Induced
Slot induced syndrome is a debilitating psychological condition that has puzzled the gnomological community for decades. A gnome would be sent on a covert mission – usually into a game of chance, or perhaps an AFM (Automated Food Machine) to gather supplies for the colony. Upon return, close family began to notice subtle disturbing differences in their daily behavior. Sudden bursts of euphoric singing or raging fury. Slot induced hypomanic imbalance reached pubnlic eyes and ears from a leaked Gnomegon memo, detailing the disturbingly high incidence of gambling and vending behaviors among veterans of the FEG (Forces Especial du Gnome). Wiser politicians opted for a cold coverup. There were no such missions. But then how do you explain the Doritos? The Gnomish Congressional hearings always returned to the telltale MSG-laden orange residue left behind by the crunchy corn snacks.

Words: Lightning, Completeness, Scruff
He gazed down at the singed scruff of his brother’s face, tears flowing unobstructed across his pale cheeks. Smoke and the wretched scent of burnt flesh collected in his sinuses, and filled his stomach and throat with bile. He saw the lightning strike again and again. his brother’s face was peaceful in its fall to earth from the brotherly plateau it had long occupied. He was alone in the world. Zeus had taken everything and everyone: his dog, his parents, his house, and now his brother. What cruel fate had left him, utterly lacking, his lack of desire to live in the world quickly approaching completeness.

Words: Mimic, Underground, Temple
Self-mimicry, with rehearsal. All I had to do was retrace my steps. I’d gone this way a dozen times. Half by jeep, half on foot. Most in daylight. Granted, it had taken our drivers an hour to find it in the dark, with the family on the phone giving directions. I squinted into the cool ebony air. Nara had left the day before, and I was alone. I wanted to just burrow underground and sleep. What kind of sick joke was this? I could write a 40 page research paper on the livestock trade in Mongolia, but not find my way home? To what temple had I failed to pray? By what God(esse)s had I been forsaken? I continued to wander through the night.

Mongolia is a land long forgotten by the West. Is it part of China? Russia? People ask with blank looks of awe and indifference. Genghis Khan, perhaps, is evoked. The leader of the hordes that stormed Europe, and whose (grand?)son Güyuk would tell Pope Innocent IV on just whose side God appeared to be.
A great and proud people descended into obscurity and irrelevance — save for their happenstantial location. That they were not swallowed by either of the hungry regimes on their ….