thelatephoenix thelatephoenix

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the late phoenix 🔥  who is beyond the unknown universe?...

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GONNA BUY MAMA A DIAMOND RING (BUILDING) (THE ANIMALS) when you have nothing left to lose, remember, that's when you have more to lose. Brad Pitt suggests trekking to Kyttyk. "it's palindromic," he says, "that's gotta mean something." but this is an experience that should always be shared, so it's one I need to do alone. and I must get away from those cries streaming off the steam of the ocean. this is a shore I am sure to bear. the galah poops on Brad's head. he takes it all in. Brad: "nature has never cared for us." I walk the one mile with him to his bungalow stretched secretly across a bed of serrated pink palm leaves. he pops open the trunk of his light Buick to reveal my bullet-riddled triplane smashed into a suitcase shape. Brad: "just in case. we all gotta be spies." looks like I'm walking. "when you see the woolly mammoth there, think of me," Brad waves at me one last time. for the life of me I never know when that kid is kidding. Brad: "oh I almost forgot! are you an anal baby?" me: "what?" Brad Pitt: "I'm an anal baby. I was conceived through anal intercourse. butt sex. I'm a butt baby!"...

DAY OUT WITH BRAD (CINEMA SAFARI) (BELLY BUTT) "some travel to get a woman. some travel to understand a woman. I travel to escape my wife Angie," says Brad Pitt to me on the Southwest flight. the plane is stable and turbulent and not shooting, but are the skies any friendlier? the seatcushions are riddled with little blue drinks you can't quite identify the fruit of, and tiny umbrellas. the stewardess announces my schedule, which is securing. she rattles off all the cities I will never explore then hushes her voice when she mentions the New Hampshire detour out of embarrassment. the cabin overhead lights are blinding. she clogs the aisle pushing her way into the cockpit. she is really the pilot, and her fake smile reassures us passengers that it's gonna be alright. Brad waxes poetic about the history of flight and Kyttyk Hawk. Brad: "without it, we'd be stuck. couldn't go anywhere. what do you want?"...

SPEAKING ENGAGEMENT (CYOA) (BINDLE) "I'll trade you your triplane for this can of Red Bull," says Brad Pitt to me. "no come on, man, that's not funny," I say. Brad: "hear me out. this can has my spit on its lip, it's worth a fortune. it's an uneven bargain." but I'm more concerned with trade winds than trade. the Roseark Mountains dot the broken landscape, poking their heads out of fried foliage on the dry American steppe rapidly dividing into two plates. Brad stares at the crack with stars in his eyes. Brad: "the Chinese earthquake. it affects us all. why are you out here?" me: "I could ask you the same." Brad: "touring the National Parks of this country as I continue to find myself. it's been tough since the divorce to put it mildly. scouting out locations for the Eclipse." me: "lost my home." Brad: "the recent floods?" me: "my doghouse was shot down all to hell. 43 bulletholes in it." Brad: "yeah I know what that's like. I've been all over the world on set locations filming shit. I've crossed from one Pacific to one Atlantic and back. it's not the journey, it's the journeytime." Brad begins eating a cactus prickles and all...

(WE ARE ALL IN AN AIR RACE WE CAN NEVER WIN COS THE CLOUDS ARE GOD) I want a home. I am confused. and lost. I answer the ad not cos I'm some big sports hero, but cos I need to wear a uniform. I get skinnier by the day, soon it won't fit. it's not so much adulation as praise. a commune is a place where I can lay my unstructured head. amorphic can't last forever, soon it will fritter like a formless fairy. better gormless than formless. I need to be in the state of people...

FISHES (AQUIFER) "one question," Lupin asks signaling a future partnership, "how did you survive? it was the hottest week on record for the year and the worst drought in Italy in 60 years." I tell him about the eternal night and the iceberg. "see ya," says Lupin with a Boy Scout salute to his third eye, and Lupin is gone. I spend that week searching for Toks but the look is fruitless as I can only describe him to the villagers as big. the Vatican fountains have been shut and I land my conking triplane at the plains strip of Haizhe Holdover in late for the annual Festival on the unknown area of the North Pacific known as the Xi. the ocean is teeming with jellyfish who have already claimed the life of a little village boy when I get there. my arrival is met with skepticism and no hope...

A LIEN (STARMATES) frustum. that was it. and it was o so frustrating. waters don't recede in India, they blend in the landscape, leaving a mound in Mumbai strong enough for gods and malleable enough for man. a swirl imprint left on the world panhandle, civilization's cradle. "rain tests, Mumbai monsoons teach," the man who hikes my hitch tells me as I scramble into the front of his cab couch, springy with exposed springs, "need someone to listen to?" now that you mention it. I tried contacting Chigliak but he wasn't home. I wonder if all cahokias are the same. I balk at contacting Esteban, my heart pumps scared blue blood faster than a smoking piston. it is a long straight stretch of flat highway, a line that never ends, ended by clouds of mist on either end. the sky is always night and that blue that is just not black cos of the stars so you can barely see a purple blanket over everything. Toks talks of the spiral jetty and his crops, and cos I don't chime in the conversation quickly turns to hot dogs. Toks: "is a hot dog a sandwich?" me: "please, not now. not in the mood...what if I don't get my dick sucked? life is meaningless if I don't get my dick sucked by a beautiful woman." man, I really need to stop participating in things...

THE ICE CAPS ARE BURNING (THE BOY WITH THE CRIPPLING FATE) what do you call that thing when the pyramid has no point? I dry my eyes in the Accona Desert, notice the glint of the midi ring in the pond. I dare not sleep for fear of falling in love with it. as these things often go, I gradualize into the granular sand and eventually find myself walking alongside Chigliak. I'm not sure if I have clothes on, doesn't really matter, loins on loins. he is chewing on a red cup of ice from the wedding. me: "that's bad for your mouth." Chig: "my mouth needs to be opened. the first thing I learned when I became family is that there will be many messengers of many colors and shapes. will you be haggard enough to pull out your shabbard? or scabby enough?" I'm really not feeling good, what else is new. "essential tremors," Chig senses...

CHURCH OF THE ORANGE ROSES (RECT) San Marino is an island. a closed-off one. closed for the wedding of Lupin III. perfect for me as I find myself face-down in a ditch. when they found me there was no water anywhere. drier than a desert dick. I've been having strange dreams lately. I need a bed. my perception is unbalanced. colors are lighter, faces are dingier, attitudes need adjusting and knobbing. my hold on reality is suspect. or maybe I want it to be. two Christian brothers on vintage motorbikes out of the Spanish Civil War pick me up and drag me by the armpits. "what happened to you, bub?" asks the female one. me: "a woman moved my feeling from my heart to my gut." on top of the hot metal engine covers I ride ass-out on twin cycles to my next destination. good, I need to be around people. I write in my travel journal for a bit before closing it in despair when I have to turn the page. "exploring is useless," I echo my friends into the highway wind, "you'll never find what you're looking for." I miss my friends. always listen to your friends...

BANANA TOPS (PETRICHOR) I have never been in love. and I never will be. but back then, I came the closest. when I awake I am struck with profundity, not penis and pussy. not my long-held query of whether a virgin can be a sex addict, but rather the impossible mooring of two lost souls for one night loving something other than their fears. I am naked and find myself in a pool of pure fresh morning dew held by a bed of vibrant redwood leaves high up in the tree clouds. the branches, knowing the necessity of their vitality, do not bend to our will, but rather flow underneath silently, the water is old. Pizarro remains sleeping in her natural bath on an opposite tree, the canopy carefully shielding us from the sun. we are babes in the wilderness. I never want to move from this quiet place. the night did me good, my bitten teeth hurt but my mouth is nice and elastic, ready for all my acting days ahead...

MY LOVELY FIRST BOOTY (AWASH IN SWASH) practice went well. it always does. I slowly emerged as a competent performer. the light lent itself to cracking my shell and whenever the stage went dark I had the unprecedented opportunity to present myself to a new batch of strangers a completely new being free of arches and crutches. since I was the actore of the production, that is, the only one who couldn't sing, I got full of myself and my thespian roots. I memorized my lines and my marks and relished coming to rehearsal. I enjoyed the experience because it wasn't me, it was her. I did it all for Pizarro. we all did, it was her troupe, unofficially or not, she steered us surreptitiously under her breath and really took command of the thing, sprinkling us with the dust of a woman's oil. the one scene I loved doing the most was the one where it was just the two of us alone on the wide stage, in close proximity, adrift at sea, she the wench with her arms bound behind her back and me the suave swashbuckler swooping in on a swinging vine to kiss her off her feet as we fade to black...

DINNER THEATRE (IS WONDERFUL) I want to tell you about the someone. her name was Pizarro. she was a peach and an ass. her ass was a plump round peach. she was a big ass and I was the cream. and the scream. but first, a funeral. I am surrounded in smoke. soon I feel the wetness of the past, as water tends to flow backwards before our eyes, the old lagoon of the pier next to the theatre where I worked my first job. the foggy depot won't clear until I replace the spoiler of Chigliak's motorcycle stuck in the road with an AMERICAN metal decal. that will have to be fitting for my friend, I never have time to do things long. soon the path broadens and I begin to notice that wasn't a Figure 8. it was an infinity symbol. I remember all this like it was right now. the theater stood on wobbly planks eroded from memory with each passing wave each time we crashed with stilted performance. no stars here but the night shows which were free. to the left was the casino and the right steps away from the university. the college kids honed their chops with a little song and dance and first dress before their first finals as a lark. the serious drama majors dare not show their rejected Juilliard pride here for fear of next year. they had to pretend to be laughing...

EIGHT FIGURES (SMOKE ON THE WATER) the trip back was hard. it was a ride. My'Lynn asks of me a huge favor to take in one of her kids, an obstinate but owsome orphan named Matt. "make him your charge," she says. but I ain't got time for all that. I gotta burn rubber. across the duckweed ditches and lonely lands I roam this country, great in area. I replaced the Indian marking on my hog with TRIUMPH. that's a little better. the bike runs okay back from Montana, a few glitches in the bumps along the way. I lost a 10-dollar bill, didn't feel it fall out of my pocket, which pissed me off robustly. in home in time for gelato I glide down my gullet. Chigliak serves me and talks about how nice comcast was to him during the crisis. "but I elected to keep my tv black-and-white," he says, "it's like I'm watching first-run programs from the '30s, fascinating. you should get rid of those hideous tracksuit jogging pants you wear, that's the problem. real material, slacks, marocain, and a nice jacket which symbolizes your tribe. it's the only way to combat the feeling." I know what he means, we all share it yet it's different for every one. Chig: "I only eat ice cream now, it's the perfect food and drink...

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