And no, I’m not “high,” okay,
I’m just tired and I might be gay and it’s a really nice vase
And I have some thoughts about the vase, but that’s not
the same thing as being high, I just get really tired
in the afternoons but I can’t nap and it makes time seem purple
and it makes me wish this vase could marry quietness
and then my mouth & eyes could slow down
to like, 1/100ths of mouth-and-eye time. Yes,
I know how this sounds. Yes, I can hear myself.
I know it sounds like I’m high, but I’m not.
and another thing is that I don’t like live music and I wish you’d stop inviting me to shows
or – it’s not that I want you to stop inviting me out, exactly –
just remember, when you do, that I’ve told you
like fourteen times that I don’t like live music.
Anyhow. Everyone on this vase seems pretty happy.
Or like they’re about to be happy, or at least that
they exist on the permanent brink of being about to achieve happiness
Which is, in my opinion, and it’s just my opinion,
better than getting dragged out to concerts. Vases > shows
That doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you
A vase is not a replacement for you,
I just need, say, forty minutes, maybe fifty,
to sit on the floor and really look at the trees on this vase.
(These are absolutely top-notch trees. Better than outside.)
and think about music without listening to any.
Most of my life doesn’t work but this is a good vase
A really fucking good vase – Jesus, this is the best vase
that I or you or anyone we know has ever seen –
It’s warm from sitting in the sun all day. (I’m not high.)
I’m laying down now. Lying. I don’t know,
I didn’t go to school, technically, I’m on the vase-plane now.
Everyone on the vase is ver-r-r-ry circumspect, at least w/r/t me.
Playing their vase cards close to the vase chest.
Where do they live, where are they off to,
whose cow are they killing and why – NUNYA.
That’s their answer to everything. Yours too.
I’m not sick of the vase, exactly, any more than
I’m sick of you, but somewhere a whole town turned out
to hack up a cow together and I don’t know why
and I’m just not up to coming out tonight, never was.
I think it’s a good vase. I’ve been watching it a long time
and I still think it’s good. And I think it’ll keep being good
for another long time. Forest-good. That kind of good.
Fuck! You know? Fuck! It’s head-hurting good, and
I kind of fucking hate it!
This is a bullshit vase on a bullshit floor,
and it tricked me into – something. I don’t know what.
I can’t wait for everyone I know to die because then it’s just gonna be
me and the vase, the vase and me, vase-time face-time
everything is bullshit except for that, pretty much.
This has brought me considerable joy. Especially "[i]t's head-hurting good, and I kind of fucking hate it!", which describes a lot of feelings I have.
I feel like you peered into my innermost soul and gave me this when I most needed it. Thank you, thank you, thank you.