homage to Strychnine

--Which way to the abyss, ma'am?
--Why do you want to know?
--I would like it to...gaze into me.
--Let me gaze into you.
--No; that would be dirty, we hardly know each other, I am below the age of consent.
--But I am the abyss, my dear.
--You lie.
--Perhaps. But do you really prefer chasms to contours?

(Q: Does the tongue wag the dog?
A: A cool, muddy lake to droop into.)

--I think it's somewhere thataway.
--Thank you, mister.
--But I don't know if you really want to go there.
--Why not?
--Some say it's haunted.
--I don't believe it.
--Me neither. But... A place like that wears you down.
--I've considered that.
--People go, you know, and they come back. And some of them talk about it. And then some of them even go back... It wears them down. Eats at them. They can't...
--It's all in their minds. All that is required is to adopt a *positive* attitude. Through mental discipline, one can gently *float* down rather than *plummet* in.
--I firmly believe this.
--So, are you coming back?
--I don't know...How soft is the ground out there?

(Q: How did Moses die?
A: Ears, nostrils, mouth, vagina, anus, urethra.
The eyes, if you want to get technical.)

--So. Here we are.
--You are deeper than I'd expected.
--That is indeed a defining property.
--I had hoped for a roundness, a softness...even here. I had hoped for...
--That old whore. She got to you first. You can't have it all, you know.
--Why not?
--I'm closed for the day. Try the window on your right.

(Q: What is the definition of bliss?
A: Only under certain tenuous assumptions.)
© 1997-2001 Narciso Jaramillo conversations | dyslexikon | nj's face