x-x-x-x-x. Porsche dealership, New York in terms of goats and Orisha's Ochun and Shango.

Two/January/Five

| | | — | | Suck you in. All wealth. Come ye seeker of Porsche dealership, New York. Sucked in the Causabon to the Plan of the Diabolicals in Eco’s Foucault’s Pendulum. Come seeker of SUV, sports car, Rolex watch. “Truth is brief (afterward it is all commentary).”, Eco writes. “What has taken place in the real world was predicted in penny dreadfuls.”; in relation to the juxtaposition of Shakespear, Melville, Balzack (who’s that?), Dostoyevsky’s sensational fiction, Cabalistic symbolism and the “future”.

Pray to God, the new same for Satan (or is it the other way around?), as per Revalations. Open a Porsche dealership, Miami, specializing in hundred thousand dollar exotic cars. Cater to wealthy Long Island housewives and mid-life crisis lawyers. Wear Gucci and Rolex. Go to the gym. Drink mineral water. Live to a thousand.

Summon the Egyptian dieties, Ra, Isis, Osiris, Anubis. Do their dances. Dance to Kali and Shiva. Eat nothing but air. Drink your own urine.

Hail all Capricorn babies; part fish, part goat. Tail in the freezing ocean, hooves on the mountaintop; seeing all.

So you wealthy doctors beg to be initiated. Home from the Porsche Dealership, South of France with a temporary lease on youth.

By boy complains his wife is getting fat and doesn’t want to fuck him. Not attracted to her anyway. They all become the same beast after a while. That’s what hand-cuffs, blindfolds, whip cream and literature are for. Leave half an orange for Ochun. Massage the womans feet and temples, maybe some scented oil, ‘till the first male diety rises like Shango. She becomes maleable, wet. Gazes up and becomes Aprodite again.

The Rolexes, Porsche dealership, Gucci and pride fade like ink in a hot bath. Skin burns like swimming North Atlantic waters in January. Life, Death, Rebirth. Click. Click. Click.

Oh. Now I remember. Ohm. Deep breath. Mineral water, strait out the tap.

A million blessings and a thousand orgasms to you all. Men, retain the white syrup. Send it up the spine like a wound-up snake. Ride the pink Porsche made of pure light and pick up pieces of astral booty. Fast. Faster. Faster. Fastest. Bang.

We all winners in the eighteen gazillion mile relay. Track is infinity. Smile. Only nine zillion laps to go.

Driven and drivin’. Mike iLL

2/01/2005