Ah Memory O’ Miss Unbeknownst, Der Late Town Haberdasheress
Sort of knowing the late Miss Unbeknownst is not knowing but maybe it’s a start. Hazy black grey knowing warm knowing for sure but not knowing what. What’s the time, said the State Trooper who must have stopped you. Must have been you can’t have been me, because; I am asleep or should be if not then well—nothing that comes out my mouth to myself which it must be directed to, if no one’s there, can be trusted—but what if no one’s not there but just the same as no one because each and every one of the single one known to be here is sound asleep or should be if not then well—nothing that comes out my mouth better come at all it may turn to be what no one’s supposed to hear—but me—myself—some things can never be said aloud in the presence of even one other. Some things can only be said aloud when alone. Some things are so secret they can’t be said aloud even when alone. And some things are so secret they can only be said aloud when no one including myself yourself or anyone at all is there. And then, silly me and silly you, not to mention silly us and silly them—or me myself and I and anyone else who may have not been covered—there’s no one to say it when there’s no one because to say it there need to be at least one someone so—what the hell is the point what’s being driven at by whoever’s goosing my face head and elsewise—ah, shit—need to pee need quite bad. What time? What’s the time, said the State Trooper who must have stopped you. What’s the difference better do it or—perhaps, mayhaps hapwise maybe be quite sorry very. Go do it.
Suckit the all here’s middlenight almost, is all. Always lookit fer morning ya’ know boopie, is always all there is.
Aw shit. Well at least there still sleepiness to fold back into after.
Ask Miss Unbeknownst when you get there.
What’s the time, said the State Trooper who must have stopped you. Ask me ask me ask me say—o, ha, yes, in the dark—she’s now in the other room from this cold pot I sat maybe needed to sit maybe not needed but needed to sit because ut oh hey forgot the reason. See what longwindedness’s reward almost always is. When you are long ago a boy for too long? Not to be fuckin’ known. Oh well. The reason for there being a here and now right this instant has begun flowing. The reason for the on-light. Not to be fuckin’ known. Done plus a swipe and a flush causes the off-light. Here she comes she comes back in the sleep soft coolcloth also known as the night-swath. Swaddle. Don’t say. Impressions are everything. Give no wrong impressions hey. Even if they tell the truth—but the sleep waves up the reason for sleep sista’ and it’s this; thoughts need to stop and cool before we tell us too much of who we really are. Need to be careful not to spill what can’t yet be known. We—but the roll and once more the s—the s—the—end of the arm pushes up the cool off the underpillow and once more the sleep rushes in to stop the whole word from being said—thought—heard—spoken—uh—who’s this in the blue here? Not to be fuckin’ known. What funny garb for what’s topped with a man face? Not to be fuckin’ known. He says it. I hear it. He says it I hear it says it hear it it I I I—
I’m sorry, sir, but—we couldn’t save the hand.
What no but but the end of the arm pushes at the end of the arm ut what hand?
That hand there that’s not there. That one. Ah that one—see, see, there was just too much damage we were able to save all the rest of your overall self but—we just could not figure out or what book to look it up in or who we could call to pitch in to help us know we would for example have had to leap out a few groups of fifty year timespans together to find the time medicine would be advanced enough to have done the necessary pick and shovel work heavy lifting all funded appropriately to allow the answer to be found about how no one will ever have to endure amputation again ever ever—oh go ‘way the end of the arm pushing up the cool off the underpillow tells you shoo shoo knowing what should have happened or how sorry everyone is about having to amputate changes nothing just quivering air are all these word-clusters, which if the ears had never been invented to convert these tiny fluctuations in air-pressure coming over to something inside labeled as sound which when streamed at us in significant preplanned patterns supposedly are recognized by us as having some meaning and all kinds of activities get triggered in our species by the properly designed streams of vibrations we all agree to pretend have meaning to avoud facing the stupidity we harbor which the creator build us to believe is knowledge derived from our fictional hard wired delusion that there exists a mystery labeled intelligence which convert to action only because we need to have results to point to to be able to say, Look. The pig. That race has never achieved such as this, and--
Get it bub get it?
No shoo shoo shoo.
We got it. Why can’t you?
Shoo! The cold under. Down from the end everyplace else go just, go!
Greywall up the greyspace there was funny—what? Garb? What funny garb?
Who said what? Is that also on the list of what’s not to be fuckin’ known?
Come un tell me who said what.
I dare ye. Say it. Guts? You’ll need them, ‘cause they’re also not to be fuckin’ known.
Okay—ho—she has her hands up her face why that why up her.
Have you not learned yet Lane? My—you’re—all—
—refusing to learn there’s nothing left known to be fuckin’ known.
What’d you say?
I am—so—thank. You heard it plain bub.
Plus you may ask Miss Unbeknownst when you get there.
Blue garb garb garb garb.
Plain and clear Lane plainly clear all above and below you heard it.
So—grey fuzz ropy day winding in and out things making the whole unto just all top-pieces yes top-pieces like words with no periods just fuzzy fading into the next word that’s—
Don’t pretend you are not awake Lane.
—not connected until it stops then it’s connected but then it’s too late for whatever it all meant to mean anything anyway. I feel awake what’s the time?
If you pretend you are not awake past the point where you appear to the reasonable man to be asleep, you’ll go pop! in the wee time and be never was at all Lane.
No time in the bed it seems—it seems—seems that tissue box blocks the clock. So.
It’s the time it is silly.
Lane! Lot Lane.
Oh no say nothing you had your chance. Your typically silent inner chorus that no one ever heard except each member herself cries out now all release, spitting out, You’ve always known that would be old Occam mister Occam’s answer to that sharp question asked so many times from birth to death nobody hears anybody say it any more what time is it what time is it what what that’s what will push me from bed not how tired I am not how tired I am what time is it not how tired I am what time is it not what how time tired is I it am your what hand how is time gone tired we is could I not it save am it what we how tried time but tired no is no I no it no am I am I am I what?
Dear God no dear God—
Warm it grows and soft underneath not not that it this saved is me very thank very God wrong from but hearing them tell me my hand is gone—how’s the chorus back in there where all your hot fat is puddled in between your slippery slidey organ masses God has mercifully designed you to never realize through them the very base nature of your physical self hey—
Hand is gone hand is gone hand is—Lord God, jump! Hey jump hey.
Ask Miss Unbeknownst when you get there Lane I don’t know—
This cannot wait ‘till then, Lydia, Jesus Christ Lydia—I have wet the bed! Get up!
Whip out away through the light’s brightpop—she thinks I’m at the doctor but no I am not no—the Park. Need to think things thru at the park. Lyd never changed different before not bad different what what can I do—Lyd is changing different since complain complain never before the she liked her job before the she did her job and the me did mine too now we do our job together and it is always there between us; maybe that’s it. Speaking yet Sparky. Now we do our job together and it is always there between us; maybe the strain of working together sometimes being together is too much not good eh? Now we do our job together and it is always there between us. What you think. It’s better now but—but—not for Lyd. Now we do our job together and it is always there between us. Ut ut speaking yet Sparky. But—we didn’t decide to change because we wanted to we had to no no. I had to not we; everything cannot be we; that yes that is the mistake; we needs to stop; we not good. Studies have shown that yes it is true that now we do our job together and it is always there between us.
Maybe I should show Lyd how to work the booth.
Maybe I should take over recording this book.
No sure to do what so maybe should—ask Miss Unbeknownst when you get there.
They contracted with us because of Lydia’s affecting breathtaking climactic comic effective electrifyingly super-fascinatingly wondrously blessed so virtuous virginal heartbeatingly vital hyper-sensuous whisperingly taut super-maidenly wonder upon wonder ultra-timeless example of the perfect voice; God herself has not tones so fair. The Holy Ghost yah Ghost not spirit or spirit if you like; don’t go all picky-picky prickley-quibbilley with me myself I or even him her or it pretty please—Lydia’s voice was made for the ages. Spelled with seven hundred leading a’s and s’es trailing off to infinity as in; Mobiu-ess. Yah that is how I spell it turd brain yah you—you be da turd-brained, guess what? Guess guess guess guess whut whut what? Da—turd brained Pickleman, of course. Yon be da Pickleman pages on pages ago and here and now and pages on pages hence to the end and off into the fleshspace. Yon be da Pickleman is forever like Lydia’s voicey-voice. So: know that as I doze on the soft cottonesque padding also called by his formal name pillow, I know today wanna be anudda badly bad day fer Milady du Lyddiasse en da demitasse as a matter of fact the French call il va tout saule pleureur et pour une très bonne raison là-bas there we back up here in the general chorus who get no glory hope you’re annoyed now. Time-leader not. Reason? Because you’re unqualified. Ut ut speaking yet Sparky. Hup. So, hoot—got to get to it in five I get up and right after the she too so here’s the kind of shit that flows forward the big sailboat these days. Ut ut ut speaking yet Sparky. Let me think let me think let me think; oh yah I know my hot steel trap back there says that the next today text will be called something similar to—Missy miss Unbeknownst, Der late town Haberdasheress.
Hup hup hup. May we ask you something huh?
May we ask you missy-miss?
May we ask you?