Dressed to Kill Yourself
| September 25, 2013 | Posted by Webmaster under Volume 03, Number 1, September 1992 |
|
Rob Hardin
DUPLICATE FOG AND DRESDEN CERUMEN
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There had been a series of | (Tuesday, July 9th, 1985: was
spectacular killings west of | it something I'd said, or had
New Haven. By all reports, | the individual molecules of
the victims had been | styrene in Molly's flaming
imaginatively disfigured. The | plastic cup become volatile
textured palette techniques by | mutagens, altering her genes?
which their intestines had | Why had her lips become seven-
been rearranged to suggest | foot-long cave worms that
Satan Casting ET Into The Lake | writhed whenever the DFA
of Fire were the subject of | inspector passed? I tried not
both critical praise and | to feel personally insulted,
craftsman's speculation. How | but the vertigo and loss of
had the strangely anonymous | memory caused by low-level
murderer been able to make his | exposure to polycyclic
parings in the murk acquire | aromatics was getting to me.
such distinct borders? Of | Hell, I thought, why not
particular interest was his | propose on my monomer-dusted
work in broken capillaries. | knees (the surfaces of which
Here, the shadings of blue and | were already beginning to
red were so subtle as to | pulsate with passion and
suggest the airbrush work of | deformity)? But it was too
Futura 2000 (an ancient LES | late. Molly had already
artist whose techniques have | changed into a 350-nanograms-
been much imitated in these | per-gram representation of the
times of draftsmen automatons. | Rape of the Sabine Women,
| rendered in hot pink fur.)
But after the telejournalist |
reviews and panel discussions | Privately, however, Onion knew
had thoroughly analyzed Khaki | the true reason for his
Cadaver 5, and academidroids | success: his ability to utter
were left to dry-hump its | wordless streams of syllables
aesthetic until the skin had | that reduced his clients to a
been worn away, the public's | soporific state in which
lack of interest voided the | they'd empty their wallets,
subject. There was something | drop their pants, and imagine
precious in the murderer's | themselves contestants on
technique; it was too self- | Wheel of Fortune. For Onion's
conscious; it lacked that | special episode, the usual
bold, splashy manner which | wheel was replaced by a huge,
Americans love. His would | proctologically correct
never be the work of a | representation of Vanna
successful mainstream killer-- | White's anus just after sodomy
but since the murderer was an | by the entire executive staff
idiot savant, perhaps | of CBS. The inflamed areas
financial success were better | were marked off in greed-
left to those who would | inducing shades of olive and
actually recognize its | magenta, and bore the
rewards. | potential scores which a spin
| of the anus might achieve: sex
Dwayne was a hydrocephalic | with broccoli pulverizers,
millionaire who had squandered | cappucino sprinklers,
his trust fund on musical dog | vibrating swimsuit erasers,
collars. They'd arrived by | you name it. The grand prize
the mobile homeful, | was this: the endangered
ritualistically daisy-chained | wildlife species of the
to Victrolas. But when his | contestant's choice, smeared
brokers came to remove his | with Heinz 57 and slivers of
sternum and optic fiber caps, | prosciutto, and offered to him
Dwayne knew it was time to | for ocular penetration.
join RMSA (Retarded |
Millionaire Sexaholics |
Anonymous) or face a life of |
aggressive, monosyllabic |
panhandling. At RMSA, he met |
a friend who was to become the |
very apex of his sobriety: |
Onion, a mongoloid turpentine |
heir who'd spent his entire |
fortune on topless shoe- |
shines. Through the I-Can't- |
Count-But-There-Are-More- |
Steps-Than-I-Have-Fingers |
Program, he became a |
successful infanticide |
entrepreneur, setting up his |
own BabyHeadGallery--a name |
which reflected both the |
nature of the murders and the |
stunted emotional growth of |
the killers themselves. |
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DRESSED TO KILL YOURSELF:
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|
The sites he recalled were | It was a voice that seemed too
side-roads of the broken. The | aware of time. Pitches came
faces of dispirited mobs, a | unmoored, syllables lengthened
driftwood of deltas--even the | to slow tides. Explanations
people he'd killed formed a | deserted the speaker, leaving
discontinuous whole. It was a | dribbled ellipses, or
pattern he'd noticed before, | consonants like sliced
though not until now with | fingertips. It had only one
resignation. | thing to express--the
| hesitation had become the
Earlier that afternoon, the | outline of the inexpressible.
rest stops of the dead had | An aural watermark of
seemed merely pathetic. Poor | Katherine's wordless fear.
puny things, he'd said, |
quoting Dwight Frye as he set | Now it is midnight. His
fire to a corpse's hair. He'd | uneasiness recedes, allowing
watched it burn with something | him to feel the night air. It
like aesthetic pleasure--the | sweeps across his face from
temples torch-maned, the eyes | the open window. He remembers
past all statement, like | paying to sit here--someone
erasures. Then he'd doused | else's memory, a news clip he
the smoldering skull with | was too preoccupied to watch.
Cabarnet and gently placed it | He sits beside a fat teenager
with the others. It was the | with confederate flag patches
zero-wide maw which topped a | sewn onto the pockets of his
pile of severed heads so | jean jacket, confederate pins
disfigured they couldn't even | dangling from its sleeves.
stare. | Did the teenager sit near the
| black bus driver out of
He'd stuffed the heads into a | meanness or stupidity?
burlap sack and left them in | Probably both. The bus driver
Washington Square Park. He'd | looks at the kid and smiles.
gazed down into the opening | It is not often that racism is
for a quarter of an hour, | properly labelled. If hatred
until blood and rot began to | were always this self-
satin the fabric that had | explanatory, you could keep
concealed them. Then he'd | track of your enemies.
walked away cooly, feeling the |
heads settle and drain. An | * Demon-snakes ate Dead Sea *
extravagance, he'd thought. | * apples, Spitting bits of *
Crushed peaches bleeding juice | * bitter ash. *
into the grains of white |
cobblestone. | He lifts his eyes from a page
| which smells of shredded
Though he'd been wandering | coconut. They burned me with
away from the death site for | my own mind , he fumes. They
hours, William was still the | always do. Like last Friday,
unwilling recipient of | when he'd attempted to get
visions. The city itself | into Hellbound--a club known
seemed haunted, if only by | and reviled for its hostile
emblems. A gangly blonde | door policy.
leaned against the support |
beam of the bus stop, her body | * Tell them who you are, *
a gesture towards negation. | * Billy. Glare right into *
Free me, it pleaded. I'd | * the doorman's squeezed *
rather be dead than old. Yet | * eyes. Even if he thinks *
William rejected its luxuriant | * his position amounts to a *
offer. Lusts sated, he was | * royal title, even if he *
free to reconsider fidelity. | * doesn't understand how *
| * power structures meet and *
Reflected neon signs hovered | * overlap, you won't have *
in cafe windows like | * to cinch this guy a *
superconductors of the | * greeting card eulogy at *
unattainable. They floated | * tomorrow's funeral party. *
beside him as he walked | * The people in this city *
towards Willamette Bridge. | * who know your name are *
Even outside his mind, he | * too frightened to slag *
lived in a city halved by | * it. They'll be holding *
rivers. At last crossing, | * back the syllables long *
he'd been sitting in his | * after the current nest of *
apartment. Then the phone | * celebutantes is broken, *
rang. It was Katherine, the | * and the club parasites *
tiny speaker of the answering | * have flitted out of town. *
machine distorting her |
apologies into near gibberish. |
She'd finally gotten up the |
nerve to call him and wanted |
to leave her new number. |
Instinctively, he'd risen from |
his seat, unable to sit or |
pick up the phone. It was all |
happening just as he'd |
predicted. After she'd run |
away, after the infidelities |
rumored and real, she'd |
appeared six months later to |
ruin his dinner date at |
Hamburger Mary's. And now she |
had entered his studio |
apartment through the phone |
line, her stammer tugging his |
private face. |
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(Millipedes.)
=================================================================
THERE WERE PLACES || ________________ || ...IN THE
IN ROBBIE ROSS || | | || INDIVIDUAL CAN
MEMORIAL CEMETERY || |"I am gristle. | || SPUMED ILLEGAL
WHICH ALBERT LIVED || |I am a masocide.| || PESTICIDES.
TO PHOTOGRAPH. || |I am sprawl | ||
|| |_________(con-__| || There were
Often, his father || || gangster weddings
would discover || Headpieces of || in the film
snapshots of || psychobiological || _Cougar Love_, but
tombstones glued || driftwood are || the screen was
to the back pages || never allowed to || soon inflamed by
of the family || recompose. They || another kind on
album. Small || devolve on axes. || uxoricide as a
wonder Albert || || fuselage oozed
acquired a ||======================|| liquid Joy (and I
mortician's || _Delirium || don't mean the
technique, smearing|| Trampoline_. || detergent).
the lens with so || Slate-gray || "Insufficiently
much glycerine that|| Bassinet on || synthetic--easy
even rotting || window-ledge. || to operate,
cities were ||======================|| difficult to use,"
suffused with an || || one fan was heard
incandescent || ...WAS SAID TO || to glower. Sprigs
vitality. His || CONJURE. Seconds || of ammoniated
aim was to || later, a blood- || cologne did little
materialize || vessel broke in || to alleviate the
Death's jarring || Albert's jaw, || lack of
detail; meanwhile, || spraying his gelid || repetition. Tiny
in Armenia, a || lens. This || creatures with
statue of Achilles || resulted in a || straws attacked a
was discovered to || final tarnishing || bag of oranges in
have been || of the image: as || a sequence of
installed in the || statues crack, so || heart-warming...
wrong region of || do aesthetics. ||
Kodaly Square. || Albert's last || ...nudity. Man,
Rude folk music || words pertained to || child, animated
jarred the || the condition of || gargoyle spitting
Apollonian || his diffusion disc || flecks of human
sensibility which || and not his || skin--all were
the Greek torso... || "soul." Delusions || sketched with
|| of traffic packed || graceful touches
|| salt into his || by directors Milo
|| eyes, the lids || & Otis. One
|| singed off like || wishes this sort
|| flaps of paper. || of thing were
|| They joined the || attempted more
|| ash of flesh that || often, instead of
|| gathered along the || the disgusting
|| region defined by || violence which
|| hills, rounding || lurches into VCR
|| the veranda like a || doorways. Into
|| slab of nervure. || graveyards like
|| Awakenings decayed || Robbie's.
|| in the silk pond: ||
|| the filleted || ________________
|| Muzak... || | |
|| || | -tinued) whose |
|| || | last words are |
|| || | unimportant. |
|| || | If only there |
|| || | were terms for |
|| || | the trace- |
|| || |________________|
The midway bristles with sparks: gridded diamonds on a red sleeve
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marks of my _In The Gallery of He feared their
fluids. Then I Illiterates_: approach because
could define the he knew they would
matter (as if it Awkwardly, Planer give no pause for
mattered). If balanced his frame explanation.
only. Never mind. against the giant Excuses were
Nothing can marble scroll, his meaningless to
protect my head tilting into illiterate
faculties from the its whirlpool of killers. Trained
repellence of furls. He was in the iconography
human contact. trying to look of television,
First, I invited past the Hatchett they could only
the pathogenic installation, a read stereotypical
embrace of the plexiglass body language.
Body. Then I logogriph of
explored the carnage, Once they'd closed
hyperstimulated cormorants and in on the exhibit,
minds of my giant tortrix Planer knew the
generation, but moths. His gunmen would read
that was worse. attention grew him as an emblem
The interior of lost as it snagged of deceit. He
the skull is on talons and would be framed
filthier than the pincers, on torsos and eye-tried with
genitals could whose agonized one glance from
ever hope to be. poses were their Emcee. Then
The eye in the intended to be a nod would signal
window caresses made abstract by Planer's
the wind outside, their placement. execution. He
and the tongue didn't anticipate
evokes its lewd The sculptures remembrance or
itchings. This is were enclosed regret. After
what we call within red Lucite they'd killed, the
style , a toilet brackets. These gunmen instantly
whirlpool of bad were part of a forgot their
champagne which vast equation of victims. Murder
attempts to drown molded dwindled to
what we cannot thermoplastic slaughterbyte in
digest. If only I symbols that their sequence of
could isolate the progressed waking and
illness. But when expansively across sleeping.
I try, my legs the gallery floor:
grow spattered pliant algebra A lifetime was a
with shit. notations, kind of long-
Language becomes indestructible running,
ajunkyard of equal signs, infotainment
slogans in which a flowchart symbols series; the mind,
gutted heart which opened a VCR. Lacking
replays its limply to the the voice for
craving for pain. casual visitor questions, gunmen
Artifacts from the beyond the gate. were usually
crematorium snake From the content to get in
between my lips. anticipated a few good shots.
vile inflections viewer's position,
flecked with bile. it was the
Raphaelesque style
of the sculptures
that was
foregrounded by
their context.
But from Planer's
vantage point, the
sculptures
regained their
urgency. Close
proximity freed
them from the
distance of
Hatchett's ironic
age. That was why
Planer found it so
difficult to
concentrate on the
progress of the
gunmen outside.
THE STAINED REMAINS ARE MAINLY DISEMBRAINED
-------------------------------------------
(or waned to flame-cerise.)
mingled script,
contingency fear.
Excessive lace entwined
her thighs. Kinetic taws
of Tiger's Eye retracted
like sacs of amber flies.
Her wet dreams glistened with slick-
haired boys. They stood in oblique
The reliquary possessed an air of disquiet. Presences blew
through its halls like the scent of violent women.
alley light, their Tenaxed razor-
cuts framing thin-eyed derision. Astro
Heads turned slightly, girlish sentics
smirks twisted to depraved. A wind ascertai
from nowhere scattered their ned,
denims. Torsos froze in profile, deliberat
their icy erections nursing her ions pro
desire until daylight shone through ve de-
the brickface. Then the boys laned.
thinned to transparencies. Her Repenta
dad's fingers reached through the nce cro
loops of zippered legs and parted nes cry
hair. Go away, she thought. Don't onodro
fuckin' care about me. nes. Im
paled,
Then Dad surprised her. It seemed he her vei
wasn't so prim after all. When she ns lay
ignored his commands, he pulled out a tamely
knife. He raped her there on the hide- unrestrai
away bed, thrusting the knife tang-deep ned. On
into her left eye. It had long been his tologies
belief that pleasure and punishment must decentra
go hand in hand. lized gl
ean tart
precision
s wryly
prized.
Tradition
planes
Greased with leech's gleet, Houdini what f
proves last repast for Pasolini. ilm re
gains:
the autonomic, frail terrains.