Mol,ting,: a blurt of surreal fiction

tell me what it's about

These are lines on screen in how many degrees removed from the thought's beginning? Electric signals pulsed from my brain and the words transformed to movement,, - if you only watched my hand and couldn't see the pen would you be able to tell? Movement is thought. Movement is form. Drink down the words, here’s a story, it’s & &&&&&

The two characters: Lamy and "Me," in quotation marks, because that "me" and this "me" and even the "me" that .is. when you're reading this are changed.

…,,,….?Do you think you’ll make it to the end of your life?…,,,…

said the movie theater marquee. Lamy pointed to the half moon above the sign, slithing the purple sky. My feet twitched.

I said, "Have you ever seen me out of the wake?"

"Oh yes," said Lamy. "You know this though? I often find you under a tree and we have very pleasurable sex. I did wonder whether it was actually you, visiting, but your question makes me know it wasn't.”

My tendons limped us around the corner. There, I unstrapped the chair from my back and rested. I'd just got this chair, brand new from the pile outside the ocean.

Lamy did the same, sat and sighed and inspected nine fingers, splotching. I blinked too hard and the scene layered with a future memory of Lamy's skin falling off, which I didn't like at all.

What had Lamy said? Buzz, phone,, woosh,,, big car, and in the row of houses to our left,, someone in sunglasses saying,,,

"Not today, but you have my support," to another someone in a blue vest, holding a clipboard, also wearing a chair.

Lamy stopped, itching, and stood.

"I have to remove myself from any situation if I feel like touching a screen. Or, did you just have a vision about me? I’m sorry, but it's better if you stay and I shake. Massage the flesh next to your thumb toe and &&&"

A $10 bill appeared in my hand.

"There's a plastic-free water stand over there," said Lamy. "Go get some nanos in you."

Lamy left.

But the statue of Lamy's skinless body sprouted its stone on the remains of my goodmind.

"You know I'm trying to drink less water," I said to nothing.

&"?Do you think you'll make it to the end of your life?"&

I crawled then, winding through distraction. Where did the number 3 go to sleep? at the tip of afternoon and Lamy's face rounded to double its size, edges blurring and becoming everything too much in me and too much and quick there’s hurt and quick get 555 and quick quick make the skinless concrete go away ,,, ! quick , don't let it pollute you, quick.

"Put comfrey on the tendon," said Lamy, me, “boil water and make a paste of it,” that time in my head, in memory between goodmind and vision and the other side of the street, a tree., the present mixing with slivers of another now.

"It’s been like this for months,” I tried, but the words were hiss. “I don’t want afternoon," my ears, heavy, then gone. "&&&& &&"

A pinch came at my middle’s middle. I scaled, not resisting and while the sky said purple” and the bark said “breathe.

?"?Do you think you'll make it to the end of your life?"?

Lamy's voice again, that time with real waves, walking above as I molted.

"The urge passed," said Lamy, spooning a bowl. "And you started! Very good. You’re not going to limp anymore.”

The knot melted. Lamy bounced.

“But you did see quite the unpleasant statue of me,” said Lamy. “Be careful. Get your nanos, my skin is on and don’t let that seep beyond the &&&&&"

"Let's take a nap," I thought, slithering.

"Yes," said Lamy. "Under the tree."