Plathological

"Dance, dance revolution/ all we're gonna get/ unless it falls apart/ so I say: go go go/ let it fall down/ I'm ready for the end" (john vanderslice) :**

"This is why the ranchers have it made, Caroline--they have the ponies. That's why they can make all the records, and we can't. Caroline, let's relocate, immediately, to Saskatchewan," Matt says.

Dear My Mister & Misses Diary,

Tonight, Matt brought many different hamburgers and we ate those hamburgers. Then, we got stoned, drank readymade vodka mixes and listened to music that was perfectly tuned, sonically and lyrically, to my present life. I went off about how all our love should go towards Saskatchewan, to give you a bit of context. Then I started to wax about Saskatchewan in the context or non-context of post-modernism (it wasn't post-colonial, if you're wondering. It was more metaphysical, or, alternately, meta///physical) to which Matt said, "ou sound like an essay! This is what your charts-&-graphs state is like--it's more verbal. We also drew you a picture (in my real life diary--spooky), together, in tandem--it became something else, through process (see, above, and below, for a looser example of our love for all things concerned= ♥ sk, & ♥ sk & one, two, three, four=yes, go, another centreology/parting the wheat as you walk, everything below you, nothing above you). Who can find the all mighty pig? as in born in the year of, motherfucker. Hint: the final stage.

love,

caro, ks, ks, ks.

Posted by caroline at December 16, 2005 1:42 AM