deranged tales from a sadoo stoodio

theatre of papaya

a wayward papaya puppeteer vendor knocks like a windshear about the upperfloor luminosity at least it knocks galadap infers to brumy and theres some faintly audible chuckling its going to come in anyway says brumy and brumys right and the peddlar glomps down toward them like a senior senator

you may think from my reputation and it wouldnt be outrageous that i only deal in papaya puppets  or puppeteers  the ambiguitys to my advantage  but  and here i share with you what ive shared with none  my passion from the earliest days has been the seeds   those perfect black wee shiny bitter squishy spheres that slide down the throat as easily as chironex fleckeri and are partners with wormwood in digestive passage   ive been so obsessed with them since birth i cling to the papaya puppet trade to allow me to never stray far from my beloved seeds so they are perpetually intimate and i feel their dreams and pains more than mine   they are my mentors foods slaves art langwich   for no one believes in communication anymore   its extinct as dinos   brumys scales flutter   langwichs now the province of mangos and kohlrabi  kamut and hedgehogs   and nothing of whonyms  whove abandoned language and only mimic in their deaths what was once a vitality  reciting fossilized scripts from cultural middens   and so i listen to my papaya seeds like a shaman listens to the trees

how much asks brumy offended by its extinction

oh you misread me dinorama says the dealer

what a waste of meat mutters brumy

i hear that says the dealer

look says galadap we cant quite say you broke in but youre definitely here without a permit and notwithstanding our common belief in the communality of things were all forced to function in seemingly abiding structures that decry such belief and hence make its practice vaguely schizophrenic and pervasively random

we dont need more cartesian superciliousness wearing love makeup in other words says the dealer

thats not quite what ı was saying says galadap

what shes saying says brumy is that youre a charlatan

im a humble mage of the seeds of papaya says the dealer how could i be a charlatan when i offer my wonders for free   your accusations a projection of your inexperience in the worlds of our trade

there are no snakes in iceland says brumy

of course thats not true and never has been says galadap there are snakes in the alþingi & alþingishúsið  snakes in the kirkjuþing & kirkjuráð  snakes in the safnahúsið  and of course wyrms of all kinds distributed equitably among all the myriad spaces

wind and ice are snakes says brumy

all the more reason to advance to the langwiches of seeds says the dealer may i offer you some

the gap between the narratives of media and the narratives of art is now so large dinosaurs can get through it says brumy

all the way from the triassic says galadap

to announce themselves in the present as necessary abominations says brumy monsters of integration

lets say i give you nine  half for each of you  and the only thing i ask in returns that you watch a short little papaya puppet play of my own composition   its called theres just not enough in its void and it was created when microdosing a concoction of methyl​enedioxymethamphetamine cannabis lysergicaciddiethylamide psilocybin and pharmahuasca in a treehouse on a coracle on the ganga

theres just not enough in its void

or

blood squirt

a very short tragitragedy

in nine acts

by

a wayward papaya puppeteer dealer

characters

many papayas and their pulp

fire  ice  air  theusual

sonics & the senses

smoke n fashion

darkness

... and starring ...

papaya seeds

setting

an altered preservatory in the house of mama

a country road   some numbers

the eternal crepusculars

acts one through nine

the dealer disappears in a mirage of smoke in the preservatory

and in their place a firepuppettheatre

the spectators gather around its heat

a parade of papayas walk on the sea of fire without harm and take positions

the nine papayas are donned in garish warrior ice outfits but do not melt

cacophanous lights and atrocious darknesses

screeching and irreconcilable sonics

smells to faint by and a clammy energy creeps throughout the room

the nine skin one another and their pulp whirls into the air

the seeds of the nine form iridescent constellations of suggestive semantemes

we loved it squeals galadap

speak for yourselves says brumy

we were brumy   oh well take some

are you degeneratively insane says brumy

and the dealer crumbles to ash and the ash vibrates into nine papaya seeds and brumy and galadap divide them among themselves

well regret this says brumy

regrets the new joy says galadap

that may be says brumy and if it be joys also the new desolation

and desolation the new giddiness

and giddiness the new abominably unimaginable affliction

nothing fried nothing pained

a witch in rhyme saves nothing

a word of the sand births doo in the tush

the evils in the fairytales

the gnarly turd is the norm

youre a bite for bored ewes

and the friends eat their allotments and brumys eyes get big as bromides and they transmogrify into a flagitous papaya with teeth the size of a spinosaurus and it tears galadap apart like bánh tráng and theres neither evidence nor memory of galadaps existence and brumy settles into the house of mama like a tapestry