Finished *Light in August* this past Saturday, ends weakly but first 19/20ths kablam, now I'm stuck, what to read next, search here and send me the permalink of what I should try to read next, I've failed the three novels I've tried since finishing the Faulkner, (a) it's too soon, I should know better after reading a kablam and (b) my clusterfuckitus raging, that encounter with a former favorite professor Sunday past still pinging in my head, all I can do for now is angrily blurt on canvas and bang out a grid with an even higher percentage of clusterfuckingfurious links than normal
The offer of the birthday card that suddenly wasn't has been claimed, you know who you are, it's now in the mail. Since the pints last Sunday and subsequent post Monday I've had three distinct opportunities, two at work and one in real life, to engage in clusterfuck conversations w rejuvenated and enthusiastic kamalapostles and chose not to share my kamalapostasies and not because, as with the person I'm related to by marriage, I did not want to yuck their yum but because I did not want to wreck my ruin. Reminder: Style Council > The Jam
THE LOON
James Tate
A loon woke me this morning. It was like waking up
in another world. I had no idea what was expected of me.
I waited for instructions. Someone called and asked me
if I wanted a free trip to Florida. I said, “Sure. Can
I go today?” A man in a uniform picked me up in a limousine,
and the next thing I know I’m being chased by an alligator
across a parking lot. A crowd gathers and cheers me on.
Of course, none of this really happened. I’m still sleeping.
I don’t want to go to work. I want to know what the loon is
saying. It sounds like ecstasy tinged with unfathomable
terror. One thing is certain: at least they are not speaking
of tax shelters. The phone rings. It’s my boss. She says,
“Where are you?” I say, “I don’t know. I don’t recognize
my surroundings. I think I’ve been kidnapped. If they make
demands of you, don’t give in. That’s my professional advice.”
Just then, the loon let out a tremendous looping, soaring,
swirling, quadruple whoop. “My god, are you alright?” my
boss said. “In case we do not meet again, I want you to know
that I’ve always loved you, Agnes,” I said. “What?” she said.
“What are you saying?” “Good-bye, my darling. Try to remember me
as your ever loyal servant,” I said. “Did you say you loved
me?” she said. I said, “Yes,” and hung up. I tried
to go back to sleep, but the idea of being kidnapped had me
quite worked up. I looked in the mirror for signs of torture.
Every time the loon cried, I screamed and contorted my face
in agony. They were going to cut off my head and place it on
a stake. I overheard them talking. They seemed like very
reasonable men, even, one might say, likeable.
