I'm chewing the overgrilled/fired roast dinner in the kitchen, with a folder of science notes in front of me. "Tell me about India!" She appears at my side...She has both her hands turned down into a triangular shape in front of her belly, she stands there for some time before I look up;
"Whaaa? Wha the ??? What? What is this?" I wobble my face away and chew on a parsnip.
"This is India" She points with her winking forefinger to the end of India,
"I stayed here, in the South..."
"What the fuck?? ...Oh...What...You stayed in the South!!..."
Late 1970's. I tell her, "I contacted a woman yesterday...I'm with a Rock Star...It's You! Maow, She writes 'It's You!' But we went into a parallel universe, in this now, she doesn't know me, but I give her lyrics and we have children...she won't know we have children, I think she is still in Heaven."
She called another rockstar. I found the special book of B-sides, and stories of her favourite band. Then It Hit Me, They Snog.
I told Polly, I told Patti Smith. "What? Am I hearing!!?? Kill the Bitch??!!"
She keeps telling this rockstar:
The bitch has her head stuck in mine, playing chess, trying to 'look'..."She is married to a man!!!" I tell Patti, I have given a character with her name to an alien writer, the character is based on Patti Hearst, I tell Patti, I'm with; Blue Murder..."Yeah, they both got sent to Hell...I got them back, I got B.M a guitar, she wrote a John Martyn album...He nearly went down too...Patti is so pretty, I found out she's jewish..."
"She is crying, I'm gonna cut this bitches head!!"
I attempt to slit her forehead with a knife, I'm sitting at the window of the library see-ing dark brown doves flying through the sky...
"They are sinning me, I'm going to have them burn in the fires...BITCH!!"
I make her drop something...I write, Honey, I have to leave...She's likeable...Patti shines!! "Man?? I'm, hearing God..." This dove hitting goes on sometime, I decided to read a Dragon book...it's good...but I'm sad. I hear B.M laugh...I want the rockstar killed, Polly is crying..."This rockstar is nothing, she might be sweet, but they are just doing this to cool, and she's with a bloke...she's ugly, she's nothing like Patti or Polly, they are genius, they'll get sick of each other, I should respect, I hate them, I think I don't want, I'll choose one, "Nu?" That makes me sick, they are too sweetsick...she did this, to copy, me, they're old and they think it's cool to sin me...I'll forget them and go."...I write their Goodbye. I get a little nick on the left side of my face that night, it's scarred, I see, this morning, I forget all of them.
Earlier that week, I'm in the library inspecting the reviews/paper: "See this!!??"
I have my hands turned in front of my face,
"This is Africa upside-down!! And it's on my head!!"
I don't try to be clever, I'm being 'vital'...
Caretakers, singers and others
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