Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Where are they now?

I'm sitting in the college library as nursing students make powerpoints about the Metaphysics of Silly Bands and I'm looking around to make sure there aren't any attractive or important looking people as I fart and fart, slowly and trudgingly. I break up what would be big, voluminous farts, mobilized in other situations for purposes of offense or humor, into tiny, slow, silent fragments. The smell creeps up. Pretty girl leans in to show me her silly bands. She gets "all up in my face." There are twelve of them. She is silent and her face is humorless. She doesn't remove them from her arm. I panic, and in my state of mental disrepair, I accidentally let an audible fart emerge. She remains unfettered. A dog in Helsinki remembers eating a banana.


  1. There you are. Juliet. Hi. Yes, I admit, it's rather flatulent and perhaps, as a result, a tad coarse. Oh well. This all comes full circle in a way, as my farts come in handy (in combination, of course, with a suitable incendiary) in the ignition of all the rejection letters from this story I've received from everyone from Harpers to 420 Girls to Popular Mechanics.

    Anyway how are you??? I heard you are moving West.