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i givee upp
here's a little something I wrote: inspired that crazy fool James Joyce:
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in the jalaupy in the jalaupy in the jalaupy in the jalaupy in the jalaupy in the jalaupy in the jalaupy in the jalaupy a slight rumrumrumrumblemoan of wind leaking through the windowcrack about the strangest happy tummy you can hear her out breaths profile in peripheral doesn’t move a muscle a muscles don’t move can hear her our breasts touching her breasts go out every breath every mourning would would ruin “Whah’d you hafta go an’ do that?” said Jivvy suddenly. “Done what?” said Fk, grey-blues aun her. “Teathe them pohr people out yawnder,” she said, naudding aut the whooshshield; “I don’t thee what’th funny ’bout it.” at lunch of cafeteria she can’t keep them greens off my greens Rubby’s greens He glimpsed aut the whooshshield; and aut yaunder the crurabble had had had; and a swell number o’ the squobos backsat against the garage’s façade, wile autters had simply taußed eachselves auff the cuddle and lay leg-sprawlèd dadeux; wile autters exerefforted and rooted eachselves raund the barrum o’ auxylicking flames. Dejectionism. Fk’s grey-blues turnt’went Jivvy einsagore, impchievous smirk ghosting unlow that hookèd nose o’ his. Jivvy, hauever, had already prepped them green-greys to meet Fk’s grey-blues; and according to plan the plan went. “Theys prolly ripped it t’ shreds,” he said, penting laughter; “th’ fifty I done throwed, I mean.” “It ain’t funny,” said Jivvy. “Aw, c’mon, Jivvy,” he said; “sh’tawp bein’ such a goody-two.” wants to sock me “I ain’t gon’ tell you agin: it ain’t funny; an’ thtawp laughin’ ’bout it awready.” “I ain’t laughin’.” “Yeth you awr.” Indeedy, Fk’s baudy heaved; and he sputtered bitty hoos and has betwixt every word. “I ain’t,” he said. “Thtawp.” “I ain’t! Hoo! hoo! hoo!” “Thtawp!” “You sh’tawp! Yer th’ one makin’ me!” “I ain’t!” yipped Jivvy. “Neither em I!” “Yeth you awr!” Square at this tauck, when Jivvy launged her self croß the backseat guerracrying, deux flappers, palms autward, und ein darggard phiz smaßed Jivvy’s windowpane. Whaump! The concaumitant shriekcumcackle bristled our rubes in eins tick: Jivvy twirled raund, screaäsping, and hit her dorack undeux Fk’s chest; wherefore Fk’s dorack hit the door paneling
oof! , and his blauck and window baunbaunned eachselves a buß. He kneeknaubjerk enclaspèd bearly his arms raund Jivvy’s waist, drew her nigh and roosted his chinny upauff her shoulder; peering beyŏver to gauggceive da, fetemptsallowcumrußet cheeky smotherèd in das Fensterscheibeframe, drooling und faugging heute Fensterscheibe, und whose gruspy huh huh huhs we can plearly hark in spite o’ this glaßtition—there, reciprocating our deux rubes’ buggauggle frautside, hunched and inshined hindeux the backseat this strange stranger, who could not for a tauck’s truce pent a caggle. Our
glossy peach smell of her hair on my pillow her tummy acts the balloon gossamer
stranger taptaptappèd a jaggèd fingdexnail auff the windowpane and gestured for our rubes to let him in. Let him in! Our rubes, whose breaths answied our strangers’, moved naught; and they remayed so faufter vier more beckons. “Frenthwaw?” said Jivvy timorously. Faufter a ficks o’ breathharking Fk said, “Yah?” Kubrick is “Wha’ doeth ’e want?” Kubrick pause that makes it all very surreal can feel a barrel of ribs the fragrance infuses the pillowslip for all the right reasons for all the wrong reasons for every reason wanting to nothing to be afraid of a bindlestiff bine of a hop creeps “I don’t know. Whah don’t you go an’ fahnd out?” “Whah don’t you?” said Jivvy, an applepiescented scauff to scoreunder her disbelief; nota bene: our deux rubes, in the durourse o’ diese worten, checkèd eachselves to ein raunsper; alors! Fk said, “Whah don’t you?” “Yer th’ boy, ain’t you?” “Sooo? Yer th’ gurl.” “An’ yer th’ boy!” said Jivvy, croosper crying; and she, having grabbled for it, squeezed bearly his flapper. “G’ on!” she said, practically pleading; “g’ on an’ thee what he wantth.” She glimpsed a ficks here, a faucks there, then: “Whar’th yer pa? Frenthwaw? Frenthwaw, whar’th yer pa?” hasn’t let go “I—” said Fk, empsent grey-blues fixed upauff Jivvy’s rosy cheeky; “I——I—hain’t gots a hint.” “Wull,” said Jivvy; “g’ on then! Thee what he wantth.” Remember, ataup o’ their hush-hush, our rubes træpt their lookers upauff our stranger, whose jaggèd fingdexnail einsagore taptaptappèd auff zé windowpane. Let him in, let him in. Could man dënfuse such a phiz? Oh yessy, man could, for this phiz, yight notceive, shewed but eins filthyargentrustedcappèd tooth, und only this tooth, which, laudgewedgèd in that inkyberrywizened gum, hungswingdansèd aun ein bluddycongealèd nerve. Matted blallicles shewed naut his lookers, but by the stretching und drooping o’ his cheekies we, and our rubes—of course—can discern that lĭvevim o’ them coverèd lookers. Spautches o’ skinmuerto—and leperlike flesh sores herehere!—mauttled our strangers’ skelœny phiz furtherover. All thingies consognizèd, Fk, exchanging blues for greens, said, “Haw ’bout we both go an’ see what he wants?” Jivvy considered this, green-greys aun Fk a faucks; and aun our stranger a ficks dense. “Mmm…” she said, gleeing eins looker; and raiclining thaughtfully her blauck a bitty, jake enough for Fk to notceive a bittyboogy stinging in her nostril dexter; “mmm… all rahght, then.” “Atta gurl!” said Fk, baunbaunning her baudy a jauggle. “But yer tawkin’ t’ him! I ain’t tawkin’ fohr nothin’!” “Sho.” Befirst he undid them arms raund her waist—oh, hau he didn’t!—Jivvy wriggled hastily her self aut o’ his bearclasp, turning to shew Fk them green-greys—our stranger, her dorack and bum—and quickright reached and worked the door lever. The door popped freepen, and aun the puddlecuddleblautchèd macagrit o’ the laut plashed Fk, naut sans a “Gyaahh!” Jivvy alighted, looksaw over the jalaupy’s rooftop to surecheck if our stranger had gaune funny—he hadn’t—and, as he gaut to his kneeknaubs, helped Fk to his auxfords by the caullar o’ his overcoat. Faufter eins grunt-huff each JFK flatfooted eine tauck; then, flapperlacèd und sans removing their grues frour stranger, gnaushcrept raund the jalaupy’s flank and schnauz; and jibbed, say, ten staces frour stranger?; who, we shall add, never averted intern our rubes’ lookers either; and! we shall auch add, failed never to keetain that singlygapingtooth smile. Queer. Indeedy, for that palpable queerneß ringèd raund JFK’s necks prevopped Fk fraying eins word. Square at that tick, when he raised eins exclafingdex—doox, jawprep—though as to gain the flapperupper at zé autset… square at that tauck, you see, Mister O’Quinn’s graux frehind spook JFK hindeux eine gaspflinch. “You there!” he said, to our stranger apparently; “yessir; you there!” Our stranger’s lookers, frat least what our rubes’ grues manallected from the movemuscle o’ his cheekies, wandered naut. Mister O’Quinn came raund JFK and put, givetake, fünf staces betwixt he and they. “You!” he said. “Haw can I help you?” “I seen t’e ol’ lass!” said our stranger incauntinently, caggle fraught. “I seen ’er; oh yes, I hev! Ye mawst believe I, I seen ’er!” Eisbär in mind, that at everingle uttespeak that lonesomeboohoo tooth swungdansèd. “Who?” said Fk. “T’e ol’ lass who cawm wit’ t’e lôtta ye.” “I thinkth he meanth Dell,” said Jivvy, sort of hush-hush. “Ma?” said Fk to Jivvy; but our stranger said, “Yea, yea! I seen ’er!” “Whar?” said Mister O’Quinn skeptically. “She lef’, she did! Lef’ when nôna yes wos lookin’. Jes’ lef’ like t’at! Weetout seyin’ nôtting t’ enybôdy!” “Whar?” said Mister O’Quinn, a bitty more stergid. “Ehm,” said our stranger, thumb on his stubby chinny; “ehm, she wos goin’—she wos goin’ ento, yah, yah, she’d gône ento t’e een; yah! yah! t’at’s where she be”—see, at this tick our stranger hacome ein binge doox excively; forwhere he, faufter faullext’s avauersion, snapping-tortoisèd—“t’at’s where ye’ll find ’er!” Nau, having consembered the paßimation püxerted, it can be clearcisely explicated why, oh why, that singly tooth swung aut his mauth—intending to return, o’ course—and why, when he shut his trap, his inkyberry gums and the biting preßure—beide consaulidated hindeux ein forenght—spliced that little nerve frich that lone tooth hunended upauff. Just like that: snap! Our stranger clapslapped his deux flappers over his trap, but naut sans a yelpcumshriek shrilling aut. He kneeknaub draupped and bent forward his torso, and back, forward and back, over und over, each forward and back quirt little jerks. Lingy blude rivunnels seeped betwixt his digit crèvices; and these runūlets led to little vermèd dauts spattering auf the cuddle. Mister O’Quinn aweserved our stranger agonanging for a faucks, then whipped raund and asked JFK whether they’d seen Missis O’Quinn at any tick betwixt his being there und absence. “Naw,” said Fk, grey-blues gluck aun our stranger, who’d by nau draupped complirely aun his torsoflank. The same can be said abaut Jivvy, green-greys wise that’s. “Wull,” said Mister O’Quinn, shrugging; “if she ain’t in that there sh’tohre, then she mahght be at that jint these chums keep tellin’ us about. Whah she din’t tell us, ’bout her lahghtin’ out ’fohr us—wull, gee, I hain’t a hint.” He shrugged einsagore and, indicating their leaving, pointed to the jalaupy. “Go on, Jivvy,” he said; “Frençois, you gon’ help me move this chum outta th’ way, you heeah?” “Sho,” said Fk faraäbsently. Jivvy put eins Mary Jane forward, and Fk, laßoing quickright his flapper raund her carpus, guppied her back that eins stace. “Wha’?” she said, a bitty whoa. “I ’mos’ fohrgit,” he said; “Wha’?” said Jivvy; “what you fohrgit?” Producing a jingly jangle, Fk’s freeflapper filchèd fris overcoat’s paucket somebitty chains; and he quickright cullècted eins pœpper; slapped upauff Jivvy’s palm this pœpper; which, as you’ll see, provucèd that ingénueine smurve crauß eins end o’ Jivvy’s phiz; and, o’ course, that smurve sent eins smurve crauß Fk’s phiz well as. Freer Fk wended raund the jalaupy’s schnauz and, wile Mister O’Quinn grabbèd our stranger’s ankleknaubs, he hookèd his arms undover our stranger’s pits; eins, zwei, und trés und alauft our writhing stranger leviloated a faucks ere Fk and his pa, grunting, rauck-a-my-babied him aun the treeboo taup eins, zwei und drei ere launching him in the air. Our stranger hit the cuddlegrit, und Mister O’Quinn dusted his flappers. Good. Nau that that had been took care of our deux rubes, Fk and his pa, respectively speaking, made eachselves comfortable aun the bench and driver’s seats.
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Es happened to be a beauvely evening, you see; even if them pauthers upove enscealed everingle starry daut; even if the temperature, which hitherto had tempered itself to bearable conditions, hagun a regeady raring.
The jalaupy’s lookers lit the thoreaufare aber nigh zwanzig staces award; and aun beide flappers da shewed naut but impreßionistic geaumetry; aun our flapper dexter we see Warford’s piratepegged shanties—und the audd romahazewashèd braunstone and its tworted lumpaut interjammèd herethere—wile aun our flapper scævola the transe o’ cuddle opened prodigiously; and farther still, lest we shorget, them crookèd smokestacks.
The jalaupy through Mister O’Quinn ganged award, Fk as acting copilot; and Jivvy, who sinceir depeaving, juck her blauck amid them anover the frontbackrest, watching mumkeeping as der thoreaufare’s holy tartaup kept und kept. two wrists snagged between my tummy can see myself running the beach’s shore nothing but a toxic turquoise heaven above my head everything is quiet everything calm I’m running there’s a black figure at one end of the beach posed in front of a high ridge of sprouting potatoes rearing the black figure I’m running everything is qualm getting close can smell the brine can now hark the swoosh of the waves when I’m getting closer to the black figure which doesn’t move the black figure doesn’t move and I’m running and I’m very happy and smiling and I just want to meet the black figure toxic turquoise heaven the sand’s like boggy
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Mixed Genre Mixes [50s, 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s, 00s]:
MGM 6 /
MGM 5 / MGM 4 /
MGM 3 / MGM 2 / MGM 1
Electronic Dance Music Mixes:
EDM 7
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