the face

staring at the mirror staring back at the face. the cheeks used to be fresh Jello molds. the face, you know? so valuable. the brain is cool too, i guess. a second tier kind of cool. but the face. in this society? oh gawd. the man of status is not the man of strong intellect. not yet. and holy christ do we need status. social comparing and ensuring one can point to at least one thing, one trait or possession, that is better on/for/with you than on/for/with all of your acquaintances. doesn't have to be the same thing for all acquaintances but there has to be something for each of them. winning every conversation. and "owning" people. and saying 'fuck that guy, he sucks and makes me uncomfortable' if there is nothing you found that actually sucks about him.

freaks.

our progenies though. our progeny. ha! will they laugh. they will have such gigantic heads, teeming full of cerebral folds and massive prefontal cortices. won't even be able to refer to them as 'heads', the houses for their brains. the term 'head' will be a joke. reserved for someone of feeble constitution. foreheads like GD elephant men. no?

his boy called:
'you want to do some Marley tonight?'
'i'm already on the Toadies with a head full of triumph, can't stop now, knowwhatahmeen?'

they debated a bit, just whether 'Tyler' or 'Away' is the better Toadies song:
'at any rate, and I think we can both agree with this, it doesn't get any better than the way he sings;

"...and if I'm asleep, make sure my blanket covers me, yeah...when i'm away..."

regardless of meaning. he puts his whole life into that effing lyric.' but they didn't actually talk like that with each other.

saw the boys play a few nights back. the boys from brooklyn and cincinnati. something about meloncholy made to sound so sweet and triumphant that actually makes me happy. some fairweathers from i don't know where or how that took off early anyway. some diehards from Sad Songs, or Alligator more likely, describing the band and it's wino frontman to friends they wanted to impress. some college kids dancing like flopheads with no neck muscles. some girls screaming like "i can fix you, Matt. i can." and other such moist longings. some supercilious prick that actually took his balls out and rested them on the chairback in front of him. just left it there all night, the sac.