if you're heading over the Fitzgerald's, please leave the peyote at home
In the moonlight, the big shore places were breathing and their breathing was in sync with my own. The houses would inflate and deflate and inflate and deflate and inflate and deflate, and then they were dancing, a coordinated hip sway, first left and then right. From afar, or maybe it wasn’t afar, but right there beside me beneath me inside me, I heard the drumbeat, cosmic, yet infinitesimal—boom…boom…boom. I could see everything. The moon’s light intensified and began to pulse. Out in the Sound a tiny boat bobbed with the waves. The drumbeat grew louder, the hip sway of the houses grew more pronounced and I watched horrified, awe struck as a giant maw opened in the waves, rose up and devoured the tiny ferryboat paddling in the Sound. The roar was deafening. In seconds the great maw rolled towards the coastline. I crouched down with my arms crossed above me in defense of the oncoming water demon and screamed as I had never screamed before.
When I uncrossed my arms and opened my eyes, the houses were gone. The great wave must have carried me back to the time when the Spaniards with their big bushy mustaches first laid eyes upon this glowing breast of land. I took my shoes and socks off to feel the damp grass beneath my feet. At once, intense pleasure vibrated upwards through my body. It was as if every hair on my body was on end, attracted to some unseen source of pleasure. I saw tiny movement in the grass, and leaned down. The head of each blade of grass had a little vaginal suction cup atop it. All of them were opening and closing in unison. A tiny, near imperceptible choral melody floated towards me. Were they singing? Were the vaginas atop the blades of grass singing to me? Had they sung to the Spaniards…was it the Spaniards or the Dutch or the Indians who first saw this land…no matter, I thought, as all the tension melted away from my face, and I smiled. I hoped whoever first discovered this land heard this song as well. I hoped it compelled them to think about shit they would never figure out anyway. I hoped they were brought face to face for the second to last time in history with singing vaginas in the grass. My smile spread further and I laughed as I had never laughed before.
I sat down. My breathing slowed, and then I felt…It. It was cycling back into my consciousness. I tried to repress It, but It was irrepressible. Panic. My ass was smothering the vaginas, whose song was now coming at me muffled and incoherent. I stood up. But my feet? What about my feet? Wouldn’t my feet do as much harm as my ass? Maybe more so? Wouldn’t my weight be more heavily concentrated and harmful through my heels than through my ass? What could I do? I ran, each footfall raising a tiny scream from the grass below me. I saw pavement, and threw myself on to it. I pressed my face to the cement, and heard faint cries entombed below. Here was a terminal loop I would not, could not escape from, the gentle act of walking, even breathing creating death and destruction in its wake. Tears poured from my eyes, and I wept as I had never wept before.
I…Zelda!? What do you want? Can’t you see I’m writing and weeping? You should know not to disturb me when I am writing and weeping. Dear God, Zelda what is that on your face? What do you have on your face? Make up? Wipe it away, wipe it away! You’re decomposing Zelda…Jesus Zelda your jaw bone just fell on the floor! It is lying right there, still trying to chatter! That’s right I can’t stop typing. Well I hate you too. Don’t forget to take your jaw bone with you when you leave.
I…so where was I? Ah yes…so the beat goes…. the beat goes on…borne away somewhere colorful, vibrant, wild and illusory.