cars running & the whonym

here everyone leaves their car running   its +8 outside nowind sunny and they leave their car running  they all start it up as soon as they know they have to go out  they go outside and start it up and leave it running  no matter what the weather is  and go back inside the house  for what seems like days  eventually they return outside and go and sit inside the running car for even more minutes  then finally drive away   they park by sides of the roads and sit there doing whatever they do in cars and their cars are running the whole time  some leave their windows open & its -8 outside and still their cars are running  they check their phones and check their phones again  waiting for luvot  they stare into space  maybe they daydream if they remember how  they check their phones and their car is running and i walk by and as im passing i glare at the exhaust and glare at the hood and shrug my shoulders as if im watching aliens lynching forests without knowing what theyre doing  which i am   they leave their car running and they put out garbage like no other people   when i lived with three other adults for 10 years we created one bag of garbage a month   here the limit has been 10 bags of garbage per household a week   thats over 43x the amount of garbage   the authorities have just reduced that to 4 bags per week  thats still over 17x  but this not to take effect for another year  already there are uproars  a family needs to create more garbage the whonyms cry  but a family already is garbage why does it need to create more the authorities dont say   families are sacred & holy & righteous & the very heart of order & time & heart and if we dont let them procreate themselves londonbridge will fall down ohnoohno   what do they put in there? how can you make that much garbage? if they create 43x more garbage does that mean there are 43x more people per household?  which would mean 172 whonyms in a house or apartment or under the new rules 68 whonyms  either way its a lot of whonyms even in a fourbedroom  but really really really really a lot in a onebedroom and even more if thats imaginable in a studio or bachelor   maybe theyre throwing out whonyms i think  maybe theyre filling the garbage bags with their car exhaust  maybe theyre filling garbage bags with garbage bags  its not novels or bottomlessnesses all the way down its garbage bags   and suddenly i understand how everything operates and rather than feeling enlightened i just feel like going to sleep

ive thought about this whonym thing which doesnt mean much but its fun to think when thinkings fun  should humans all be renamed whonyms or should just some humans be called whonyms and the rest still be called humans and if the latter what would the criteria be to decide which is which? they all look the same  at least to a tree or bear  the important things  smell differently  sound differently   i know some of you say well human is the accepted word and whonyms your neologism which only you use so obviously youre nuts and there are just humans and everyones a human   and i think well well im not sure thats what trees and bears think  and you say well you dont know what trees and bears think  and i think well well well how do you know i dont know what trees and bears think  and you say well youre certainly not a tree or bear   and i think oh god weve been through this before and were still saying the same shit so i go for a dump by the riverwho and call myself names and im not sure im a tree or a human or a bear or a whonym but ill define a whonym as one who isnt sure and call myself in faith a whonym and if there are humans ill call them those who are sure

diaper dialogues xvii

so, diaper

yup

i need your advice

don’t give advice

will you let the trees give advice through you?

that’s up to the trees

we’re not getting very far

there’s nowhere to get

then i’m going to ask for advice and also provide it

sort of defeats the purpose

you suddenly believe in purpose?

every once in a while it’s a relief to utter a commonplace

i didn’t think the republic of pompous poetry let you leave

language needs to sleep too

but shouldn’t it not sleeptalk?

i don’t think we should tell language what not to do

isn’t that exactly what we should be doing?

where’s humpty dumpty when we need it?

so here’s the scene. i’m sitting in the members’ lounge in yottalopolis’ primary artfilm venue minding my own business …

… you never mind your own business. what does that even mean bumblebrain? just because language is having a nap doesn’t mean we have to kill it, banality’s …

… minding my own business – i’m sitting in the southeast corner in one of those chairs that’s good for chiropractors typing on my laptop like a zombie literary samurai, for once no tepid neosinatra audio piss playing and the lounge as quiet as a cat when it’s quiet – when the dude behind me starts wanking some youtube junk on his phone. the gift of tranquility, focus, unity’s immediately stolen, torture fantasies rise seductively from the swamp of origins, misanthropy – never one to stay buried long – leaps from its hypertransient grave and claims totalitarian rule on planet i. what should i have done?

trees don’t give historical advice

you’re not one to believe in chronounidirectionality

i’m not one, but setting this aside we’re not one not to believe in anything

it’s the rank obnoxiousness. nature doesn’t exist anymore. only the city remains – everthickening makeup on absurd absence. silence and the spaces it creates – despite that clever 1961 book about silence (a necessary sound in sound’s evolution but hardly any sum of sounds, another cage to try out in the zoo of words) – are critical for biopsychicdiversity, these increasingly ubiquitous invasions accepted, even expected, desired, normalized, these offenses …

… don’t worry, your psychic brand is being phased out, in 10 years at the most the environments of silence will be so polluted with human sound that those unable to adapt will all be dead or incarcerated

want to know what i did?

what you should have done is bound the dude to his chair, smashed his phone, pissed and shat and puked on the fragments, used your revengoblast™ to mutate him into a zerodimensional antiad for nothing and stuck him on a videoboard playing on infinite loop in the hell of his own private theater

didn’t realize trees were so christian

i forgot about the trees

you and everyone else

it’s noise that makes us forget about the trees

it’s the absence of trees that makes us remember noise

it’s forgetting that makes us forget about forgetting

want to know what i did?

all our lives are are retelling stories so we can access modes of time lost with trees’ death

we are the species whose primary pedagogy is knowledge through slaughter

we learn through ghosts

blood is our curricula

death our classroom

there has to be another way

the way of trees

the trees are dead

let’s ask the phones

the phones won’t let us hear the answer

there are no answers

only questions. questions, and time

time too is dead, only questions

where does advice fit into all of this?

advice is the restory of the question

the vice of ads on a quest to rest us

yesterday is like an affirmed tomorrow never returned to its owner

time is like advice never spoken, taken, given, thought

i don’t see what any of this has to do with trees

want to know what i did?