Long cigarette holder

The following is transcribed from a found tape with the following text written on a faded label “Cantina Lorna, XVI IV, 24 July ’00 – ‘Gish’ take 3.” The meaning has never been resolved, save for the location, at coordinates 32_ 54’ 24” 45_ 29’ 49” (Shackleford UTM). Knotts Grammar. Material is available for copy via notice of Senior Claypool, Lent Bard, or equivalent heads of demarcation.

(starting time set to 0045, 9)

ectionous botulism was obtained from the hoof, hooves inside of a business man’s briefcase, can you believe it? (lingers) I have never seen a sight. He was like an old hippy trying to do the macarena, that was a site to behold.

(universal sounds of amusement)

Here is something interesting. Your itchy-footed hippy business man reminds me of this ol’ hippy I used to…knoh, no, we do not what any more Grenache.

(sounds of textiles)

I do not even know what you mean when you do that. Is that a yes or a no?

……uh….hmmmm……

All I see is a wrinkled face, slight nod to the right of shoulders, spastic winking of eyes.

……yes.

….what?

yes, I mean yes, more wine.

That is the way to speak the language of the free, good sir. (volume raised)

Ok, go dip your wand into the fountain and cast spells on men. You really need a hobby. (volume returns to approximate levels at start)
Now let me tell you of this Jimmy Gish fellow…….

You need an asphyxiating experience. …

….anyway, he used to come meet me inside of this very room. Back then, this trendy bar we sit at was a rekkid store as the kids used to call it. “rekkids…” more on the origin of rekkids later. Anyway, this guy, Gish, he’d watch the vinyl spin, and think about the orbits of his mind. This is what he used to say, anyways. Jimmy G was a very peculiar fellow. If you think you knew Gish and never quarreled with him, then this fellow you knew was impostor and not the really Jimmy Gish. Jimmy’s about fifty-two or so now. He was gray all over even when I knew him. He had a rather bushy beard, but no mustache; he used to have his side burns going all the way around from ear to ear minus the mustache. I think he looked like an old Irish farmer. Or an Ahab impersonator. I never knew what he did for a living, but I think he may have been a cop at one point. If you have ever met him, you would think that last statement was absurd. Gish was laid back, but he would go out of his way to prove himself. And he used to tell many stories of his ‘glory days’ roaming the streets around here and freaking out every night. I once walked down, maybe I was walking sideways, inside a corduroy vest and a tweezer hat, (whispered) St. Marks with Mr. Gish. A friend and I met him at a movie and afterwards he walked with us for a while. We saw William Defoh as a morbid Max Shrek. After leaving this astral shop in the middle of the street, (amusement) Jimmy proceeds to speak aloud of what the place looked like when he was still ‘active’ as he put it. It went something like this: ‘Oh my, what ever happened to this place? This used to be the Electric Circus back about 20 years ago. There used to jazz in the bottom and rock upstairs. And in the back was where everyone met to “eat drugs” as the sign said. Yeah, there used to be a sign above the stairs that said, “come on down, share some stories, meet someone new, and eat some drugs to top the night.” You didn’t have to do any drug, and there was actually only drugs when celebrities would show up, but the music was good. Used to do the lighting there sometimes.

Did Gish ever give you any really old baseball cards? Did he ask you if the word ‘cool’ was still used?

Then we would pass (anger) some ‘exotic clothing store’ and up came memories of the fine cuisine served there during yesteryear, many yesteryears back. And finally, we would come to 1 Avenue where there were a couple of clothing stores where you could get a sticker saying, ‘Fuck milk, got pot?’ ‘Nuff said. Jimmy G always went into these stores, but never bought anything. He would look at the shirts on the walls and remark about some of them. Jimmy was very observant of his surroundings, which is why I think he was a cop or a detective. Abe and Jimmy had found a pink t-shirt amongst all the dirt that featured a lamb that was saying, “I Love Ewe” on it. This lead to all sorts of perplexed questions that the two shuffled back and forth, sort of like a leisurely volley of Proust quotes on a cul de sac. I was looking at this one girl’s bag as Jimmy and Abe conversed about today’s faux-incompetent society.

I once killed a man for looking at my crotch. He didn’t even offer to lap up the glue that held the groin to the spandex.

Oh shut the fuck up and let me finish! (drastic volume increase, subsides) On the bottom of this girl’s bag in clear white-out letters was printed, ‘YOU SUCK!’ I never got that. Mean people suck, All people suck, Gay people suck, people suck, now, they managed just to say, ‘YOU SUCK!’ I could see if someone had a ‘cops suck’ or ‘society sucks,’ or even ‘I suck.’ In fact, the last one there, ‘I suck’ is probably the best one. All the others are blaming someone else. ‘I suck’ is saying something. You, as a real individual, admit that your life has been nothing up until this point. Admitting one’s flaws is one of the hardest things to do sometimes. That means you at least know half of what’s going on. O! to be absolutely free.

Is this story where I kill you with this almost empty wine bottom? Because I am about to cut your head and serve manicotti in it. OK!? END THE FUCKING STORY! (no surprises)

You really need a hobby. You can just taunt and threaten me all you like, but I know you know that you need a hobby. Anyways….

You need an enema.

ANY…. You need a….so…. Gish….yes, Gish and Abe were still talking.
‘Hey, you still with us?’ Abe was shaking my shoulder. ‘Did you light up back there in the bathrooms at the movie theater?’
‘No, that was you, you damn pothead.’
‘Oh yeah, shut up!’
Abe laughed a mighty laugh and before long was drawing a throng of people to watched his T.H.C. induced euphoria.
‘Aight,’ said Jimmy, losing interest in us winners. ‘I’m gonna head on back across the river, you coming?’
‘Nah, we are gonna go see some DJs down on Chambers. Ever hear of Madame Chao? That DJ’s wicked, man. Ever see the show on BCAT? The Chaorin Temple? It’s good if you don’t have epilepsy.’
‘No, I haven’t seen it, you know, I hardly watch television. I only like to watch shows about keebl err-elves, dangerous fishing, or the mets lose. Oh, well, have fun.’

And with that, Jimmy Gish was gone, his shamrock-colored shirt waving in the wind. Jimmy wore strange clothes. I think he got his clothes from the Dee and (&) Dee in Greenpoint, or on the street from a skinny white chick on Bedford ave venue. I only saw Jimmy Gish once again before he went away. He said he was going to Nova Scotia with a dream of grow a hemp farm, or something like that. I highly doubt that, but you never know, he may be rich.

AAANNNNNDDD see? You could do it. Even when drinking on the teat of Bakus, you dro… (surprise ending)