When the cows burst through the wire, / they drag it along behind them, / sometimes stripping the nails and insulators / from one post after another / until the wire stretches far into the neighboring field / trailing along behind them / as they run for freedom.
Which is why you should probably upgrade your iPhone to a dog and move into a yurt in the woods of northern Minnesota to live a simple bucolic life off the grid, one devoid of all pop figurations and technological ecstasy, out there beyond the simulation.
Zen Arcade is a novel about zen, punk rock, and growing up in Minneapolis during the 1980s. We’ll be publishing a section every other Sunday until Summer 2015. This is the ninth section.
Caroline waited a week before going back to the house. She was afraid to go back, not because she was afraid she would see Red, but because she was afraid she wouldn’t see him.
One day your mummy and I looked in and found the cat sitting on your chest. The demon Purr was bent over, its mouth close to yours. Here was superstition in the flesh, and we prayed it would suck the breath from your body. We swayed to the enchanted scene, sung silently: “Asphyxiate! Suffocate!”
Your insistence to dress in drag to Toby Keith’s I Love This Bar And Grill may not prove as contrary as you might wish. “Say there lil lady,” some fat honky will say, releasing equal parts stinky Old Spice and a kind of Mich Golden Lite mist all over your face.
We gave my father the wrong address to our wedding reception. Not that he could have made it anyway, but Derek was worried about Phil.