Chronic
6/29/23
Chapter 1
Icebreaker:
Could a king not go for a walk on his own land?
At 4:19AM, the word miracles became available, but that was only after the term early birds popped up. Someone out there was capable of throwing a ninety-yard fastball, and also, there had been a car on Park Ave with a giant iron cannon.
Things were getting canonical, and we were not going to lie.[1]
The word s’peed became available next, then sanctuary, and, as that happened, a man was on a jog by Bell Pond. Another man parked near the statue of Bob Cousy (1928) dribbling two basketballs frozen, and safe cars driving slowly on the gray streets were behind Auburn. It was not visible who the word ‘chronic’ became available to, but if anyone walked outside with chronic, man, that was not a good sign. No siree.
Chapter 2
The first user had to be running east at that point, running east because surely they did not want the chronic in the hospitals again, nope.
The nurses wanted better pay considering that pandemic pain.
As for Bernadette, the word baby made it into her heart, and she waited to eat eggyweggies in the velvety sunrise – & Cheerios – yum, one wondered what had happened to the words milk, chew, and swallow.
A swallow is also a bird.
As for The Force, the detective squad outside of the hospital, they were staging a protesting detail in front of the hospital, the nightlights in those high windows orange like a jack-o’-lantern.
‘The night spirits by the pond remained in the trees…’
There was a man in a car and six Hour Fathers. We splish splashed with the daiseys, and Americans could not get out of the tub for a moment because the water was warm, the warm tubs, when one was old enough to close their eyes in the dark, tubbed.
Let us break.
Little mattered.
But what to do with chronic?
‘Chronic, boy…’
Bernadette went looking down the street at at least 100 miles an hour, and a single zombie pussyfooted down Main Street. In the tub, the hot tub, like the Baptist church could do in a place like Louisiana, John would keep freeing his’self.
By 6:22 AM even the birds were real.
Freedom’s bell a’ringing. Joe Black awake from the dead.
Reverend repeats: Joe Black, awake from the dead, back when you still wore the shirts your mothers bought you!
Bizzarro moon and star prints.
Dreadful, terrifying, death defying yellow things – death defying graphic design, mind you, took place in The Printer’s Building aways over the gap. With one look from the cat, it was time to get back.
The puddles on Highland Street, they looked like the dinosaur shape in the ol’ children’s oatmeal.
Yes, and Private Freedom was still possible, had been raining down for days, the air like cloud, filled with young good things; the women out there going to work, much more sensitive than the men and impressionable like the men could not be, with beautiful legs and buttocks firm on the ground, and the women with firm legs on the ground, and the men with firm legs on the ground, and the women with legs on the ground.
To hide the ‘chronic,’ was of course, the job of the old, but He had been down below waiting in her car, having not gone to bed, as there was to be a reasonable separation between night and day, yet there was no need, no need to go out. This was the turn. Who’s turn it was only belonged to a Mozart (b. 1756) requiem. So, he was listened to that infectious song in the selection of local movements, and the men had their feet on the ground. Once, one was able to look at a sister on the street from above and realize the world was turning to the east and had been at the same speed for a reasonable amount of time, that was called being naked and beautiful.
Beauty had been obtained by Worcester again, as if it had died and come back alive.
Early in the morning those women were scary like the young beauties emerging out of ponds, walking around with a wet hair, ooo, one might get pneumonia. Repeating forever. They might be one-of-a-kind women, and one wonders what fair things a women’s imagination could give to a boy in a womb.
Saved people trying to explain the Holy Spirit at a past time and place.
Chronic, ah! How to get rid of it responsibly!
12PM.
.
.
.
.
12:05PM.
Chapter 3
Someone out there was carrying a .22. The Patriarchy in the common, where there were more spirited trees, men being good men, and weirdly…now I’ll tell ya what’s good and fingerlicken’ odd, how, in high insurance agency windows, they may look down on the same park.
Yet it was good. There were guard posts, so the Genius of the congregation could play chess with the big wigs who would only play bad Monopoly, one play and the world will spin, for those who heard most often what were called hits, those are a sort I love.
‘infectious singles’
Keepers of ‘hits’ perhaps the world’s most mysterious bunch.
Seven record players played the Fleetwood Mac (est. 1967) album, Greatest Hits (pub. 1988), but on Highland Street two youngbloods were honeymooning. They took a stroll by the Sole Proprietor. Them kids walked by US like they were 12, out looking after tigers, and they deserved sacramental protection from all adults; WE was thinking of that, not any ugly heartbreak heartthrob drama, and the ruining, the ruining of things, from lonely pretty boys who had left their fairest to fair in the trees, in the trees, oh in the trees of Sacramento. The word ‘Villain’ was written upside down into the concrete on the Highland Street cement. Two hundred feet away, on another cement slab, there were no slugs, none. Instead, a reader with an avid eye notices pine needles like the greenies were lain in a manger, like later on then Lao Tzu (b. 571BC) designed the Tao Te Ching (written in 4th century BC) when he was trying to leave his dynasty riding an ox or bull, fearing a bad spiritual turn.
My, that is an old sacred book by Lao Tzu…
If someone understood the sage’s Tao Te Ching alone, I think that would be…well, who would they help without the dialogue?
Aborigines were introduced to the morning uhaul.
Soft, then hard.
Yes they were, appearing on the parking garage roof where they just gazed afar, before walking down to the street, across the street, and into the buildings.
‘Not them, no. It can’t be them.’
Chapter 4
They journey. A wanderer of the Worcesterites went under the ol’ rusty bridge near Hurricane Daniels, and twas fair to say he was wandering, as he had come up Lafayette, past Lodi and Langdon, to see that {FAMUS} graffiti on the bridge that he then took a break under in the shade.
The banks were open.
The River Jordan flowing ~ Wisdom of earthlings on Earth was so impeccable, things just started to make sense on things, and, imagine…
A Nile reed basket, a picnic, a heart in the chest as the angels ask ‘is this thing on?’ a date, sure thing… so long as you let me tie your shoestring and don’t forget that true love will be health-based, best babe. First, since you will quite normally recognize one another’s heart rate and that might take a few weeks, as it should, the big game must be played with a magic heart or you will forget that you can help others, forever, and ever, and ever, like a great aunt in the 12th century letting a bucket down a wishing well without a word to her doting niece by 3PM.
And do you know how wise it would be to recognize a blessing from an older lady?
If you could get a blessing from a nice old lady, she could carry you so high to Heaven no one could hurt you, as you worried about being a’perfect.
No, you would die with a full heart and be embalmed.
The swallows in the morning, from one window tallying, three, then two.
Bernadette is avoiding Obsession.
Smog from the tail pipes like a dragon blowing smog through a nostril, but not a dragon, no, the dragons here, they mostly belong to the water, they belong to the water like the polar bears in the EgoTarium.
In the shower, they constrict.
The morons, the heathens, they had already started repeating dribble, poor dribble, unsound like the human beings sitting in cars outside, just camping around, relaxing.
But could there be swallowing at the hospital?
Memories made in terrible moments, that one might say, shoo, shoo – yes shoo, and the dentists were awake… also important, they were going, eee – eee – eee, but we were quiet and good and no one got all in trouble, for there were aged ladies bowing comfortably on the ground in front of where the outside community brought alms. Why, young man, you best learn a hundred-milllion-thousand reasons to not feel shock to see an old lady bow to the earth, for this is, in the worst, a pagan thing of an ol’ country.
Before Saint Patrick’s metaphor about the clover, for certain.
Chapter 5
Something in the bottom of the spine clicked, and we were on our way fine down the river Styx. At the head of it, there was a big red truck, but it wasn’t a tractor, and it wasn’t a horse, and it was unclear who had generated horsepower that morning.
‘Cerberus’
Tis unclear now, now that I remember fondly upon it, yes, it was surely unclear who had been galloping the 5 o’clock streets like a madman as if the Europeans sitting outside were not watching, as if the sticks could not breathe.
‘Who had the chronic?’
‘Shh’
Better yet, who had begun with the morning funnies?
Those old cartoon Garfield books my Dad bought me when I was only a youngster.
The school bells weren’t ringing, but hooded, they used their thumb to stumble toward the east, like they used to do it, in the 70’s.
We bet, we bet and bet, but maybe it is mild, yes, and though we may never win, it is clear that many people in the park had already 1.
Won life and frolics.
WE had made it to sunset.
Clean water was available to all the people in the hospitals or exhausted from heat on the parking lot pavement after a bad hit. In their house, in their faucets, but why didn’t people feel safe in their homes? That had to be in part because there is the most wisdom in holding yourself accountable, for you are special and deserve to be clean.
A nice quiet day for Bernadette is all she loved.
She only had to not know the author had a crush on her.
The paranoia, no, here is where we must know the science of psychology…for if one man in paranoid, it is incredibly likely that this is the product of larger trends in society at large, and, on the quiet nice streets, yes, and here is where I can’t stand, no I can’t stand, for if I sit down, I’ll cool off.
The western winds young man! You are alive and life is good?
The organ doners were relaxing after the angry little men stopped trying to harvest organs during the orange time for the demons who work in the banks, which a paranormal investigator, a medium, and a student doing readings in the mornings could confirm, were certainly intrusive, and so Jesus
Christ would never let that come between you in the world.
Chapter 6
At night, lazing on a warm summer’s eve, deciding the cars, From Now On Sir, were called po’tents, and there was no pretense of judgment against…
At night, the street artists…shh.
If it is a night after a late night, young one, and you have been on a roll, keep rolling, for an object in motion stays in motion until acted upon and this is a law of physics.
The physics, oh boy, the dreamers were able to build again.
But not in the one soul, no, that was a fallacy, and no one can wait for you to fail when you already had set sail and made your beach like a snail with a sand pale in the strand,
the stones by the oceans smelling like sit.
but not the one soul in toto.
‘I believe that takes reading,’ surmised the professor.
You let Jewish people walk through your neighborhood and do not respect their faith and you think you will not be marked con la sangre son animals, para, todo dia, cada dia, nuesrta sus abuelos yo amas, y, si los abuelos con locos como mas locos ques mas hentes o no puedo parenta – anyhow, it is clear that you would have to sit in and wait a bit, like one sits at a sowing machine, banging out mittens toward the western winds.
One could only hope to be wearing the shirt they had on.
There were skid marks on the road. A man walked over them carrying bags of trash, and it was a rhapsody, the count of the day, my pay, earned the right way, doing what I need to do to earn a living.
in Style.
Icebreaker:
Why would a person think to go ‘viral’?
[1] canonical (adj) – 1. according to or ordered by law, canon law.
2. included in the list of sacred books officially accepted as genuine.
(n) – the prescribed dress of the clergy.