ebook by blare coughlin who is a tall person who stands at the corner of parties and

wishes they were filled to the gills with

hallucinogens and other friendly substances
do you want to come read with me
he asks
yes i say yes
yes i say yes
when i get coffee at like the coffee shop at the corner of my street and the other street two
blocks away i always put four packets of sugar in it one after another not all at once and i dont
stir
i dont stir because then when its finally cold enough to drink it starts bitter and i want to give up
on this stupid bitter cup of coffee and just fold up my laptop/newspaper/book/conversation and
leave but i keep drinking and once you get to like the middle point which is hard with a Large
Size Mug but doable you start to taste the silver lining
and then once ive run most of this coffee race i get to the last fourth of the mug and it starts
tasting like coffee flavoured molasses which is just perfect all wreaking havoc on my teeth and
the viscosity changes so that the last few drops just drip drop drip onto your tongue like ninety
five percent sugar at this point and then i put the mug down and i am done this little ritual
i like to think this coffee cup reminds me of life and then death
sometimes i dream of the internet.
bits of facebook chats go flying past my eyes
innumerable tumblr posts fly out of the kilobyte sea like dolphins

i hope "blur blur" has a good time

were under ur bed lying shoulder to shoulder
its really small under this bed
i feel small like the ants on the sidewalk
you lift me up and i am sitting on the palm of a giant (in love)
===
i want to do laundry with you downstairs in the basement
and sit on top of the dryer and kick the side of it with my heels
we will talk about candles and about card games
and you will stop folding your pants to come over
and kiss me right on the mouth

===
i will take you home
and make you tea and
you will melt into me slow
candle wax dripping down the side of the candelabra
===
ill love u on top of a ladder
ill love u climbing on to a roof top
ill love u like the count of monte cristo
ive never read that book so i dont know what it entails
but it sounds nice
===
i feel like im just screaming all the time
"AAAAA" i say to the bus driver
"AAAAAAAA" i say to the person who asks me what time it is except in french so its a french
AAAAAAA
"AAAAAA" i say to the cute boy at the movie im standing outside when im waiting for a person i
know who is talking to a girl i dont know but am "hella" intimidated by
"AAAAAAAA" i am sitting on the couch in the therapists office that i go to. she is a grad student
and i am not a grad student i am just A Kid with faulty brain chemistry and a deep throbbing want
to like cease to have a human body vessel type thing or at least thats how i put in text
its a lot harder to yell in text i guess
i tried to like explain to about six discrete and seperate people at a party that its the best thing to
be a primarily text based human being but they gave me blank stares all six of them and asked
why would you even want to do that, your voice is so pretty, and i stared at my shoes and then i
stared at the wall and then i read some words i wrote like a week before and clung to the
microphone like it was my final bastion of safety my aegis against all these eyes ears sensory
implements trying to find what was even behind the text, if there was anything, and i just wanted
to run through the ink line letters on the page i was reading from and jump into the kitchen where
my like best friend was giving a saxophone player a tattoo of a trident and a spoon and curl up
into my coat like a way too large kitten and not speak to anyone ever just like shove little notes
under the door all cryptic-like, do zodiac killer puzzles that just work out to sentences such as
"im running out of mr. noodles please pick some up i like the beef flavour the best"
"it took me forever to figure out isaac brock had a lisp, how about that"
"is it normal to bite your fingernails and watch documentaries about the lives of deep sea fish"
"why the hell did lisa frank go out of style ever"
apparently u can write ur graduate thesis on image macros if ur cerebral enough
i just want to skip the years from like being thirty to being sixty five because then once you hit
sixty five its like nobody gives a shit about u which is super great u can just like wear crocs and
socks at the same time and people just go like oh man theyre old haha, crocs and socks
but like what if thats mad comfortable and all were missing out on so much we could be doing
why am i not wearing purple hats and red shirts and those bigass brooches everybodys great
aunt owns you know the ones that are seasonally themed with the snowman with felt flocking all
over so they look kind of like something ud find in a value village slash salvation army
when i moved to a city instead of the island where i grew up i was so excited for salvation armies
and value villages i had visions of walking around like ndg in a conductors jacket with hella tails
all floppin against the back of my thighs with every step and like wearing the worst clothes ever
i think i was meant to be an old person this entire time. i think some people are meant to be a
certain age and my age is like eighty. i know a kid who should have just stayed at fifteen he is
such a good fifteen year old he needs to stay there and embody it and learn it and teach it but
like no hes gotta grow Up and have Responsibilities and all that shit
i just want to own like seven snaggle toothed cats and a giant ass rocking chair and be the
tallest old person ever and teach watercolour classes to thirtysomethings who all are secretly
envious of my kaftans and muumuus and whatever the hell else old ladies wear, maybe those
bras that are shaped like cones and make u seem to have a pair of torpedos welded onto ur
chest so wherever u go people are like "oh shit high explosive boobs coming thru get out the
fucking way" and u just part the red sea everywhere u go
its nice to imagine being old
its ok being young too tho just cause like u can run and jump and eat a million things and still
keep going and u think ur the centre of the universe and everything u do is so "meaningful" even
tho like ur still one of seven billion or eight billion or however many human beings are clinging to
this hunk of mostly molten rock
were orbiting a hugeass nuclear reactor. isnt that cool. isnt this whole earth situation real cool
im glad im on the earth. the earth is a pretty bangin place to be
i mean we live on a place where u can find a type of ant that cuts up leaves and uses them to
build complicated structures
u can find a type of bird that has learned to mimic pretty much any sound
u can find a fucked up looking fish that is fucking invisible unless u can see the exact right
wavelength all the way down in the abyssal plain
i grew up on an island called st croix which is approximately ninety miles south east of puerto
rico. it is twenty one miles long and seven miles at its widest point. it is largely grassland on the
eastern side of the island but has what scientists call a moist forest which is like a rainforests
little brother that dropped out of forest college and bummed around in amsterdam for like six
years before getting a blue collar job in iowa.
i lived there eleven years and i always thought it was interesting. i used to drive my dads car
which is a ninety two toyota land cruiser, top heavy as all get out, around hairpin turns at like fifty
em pee ache on the north shore just feet away from cliffs and ocean and probably death if not
complete incapacitation. i loved it i did that every saturday going to my job at a dive shop where i
rented shitty fins and shitty snorkel masks to tourists who came by the bus load off of cruise
ships that docked in fredriksted
we used to jump off of the cruise ship dock when there were no ships and it would always be
shockingly cold at first because like u cant tell the temperature of the water at all unless you shin
down the ladder and stick a toe in but like who even Does that really
i grew up knowing the ocean i grew up underwater i grew up sitting on hillsides at halloween
parties looking up and seeing the milky way with like zero light pollution and thinking that i was
destined to be Alone Forever at age thirteen
i grew up not knowing what the hell u were supposed to order at starbucks i grew up standing on
a small whaler which is a type of boat facing the breeze closing my eyes letting the water baptize
me a little at a time every drop a benediction every second an eternity
i remember diving down to touch the fin of a stingray which felt soft and velvety like the
underbelly of your neighbours new puppy, i remember picking tamarinds off of the tree across
from the trailer my family lived in for like three years, i remember holding tiny reptiles in my
hands and whispering made up narratives to them i remember being a mote of sunlight
sometimes running thru what i called the mahogany forest but was actually just like six trees in
the middle of the neighbourhood

i remember kissing a boy in the parking lot of a country club

i remember being in love with a boy who wrote like three angry poems about me
i remember running at night with my dog next to the oil refinery, the sound of industry white noise
in the air
all of those things are gone and all of those things are still here and all of those things
all i write is love poems
love me softly through the waterfalls in the rain forest love me in the nest of amazonian
fire ants love me hanging like sloths from a giant tree waiting so slow

im going to fall out of this giant tree and land feet down and catch your earthly vessel and
kiss you a bunch of times on the mouth

im going to take u in the front basket of my friends bike to the train tracks and well do that
game they play in infinite jest where u jump out and if you dont make it in time usually ur
legs get cut off but then youre made part of the wheelchair assassins which is pretty
kickass and ill love you as a wheelchair assassin ill love you in quebec the land without
flourescent overhead lighting ill love you outside and inside the great concavity ill love
you like a baby with a very porously formed skull

ill love you making ponderous literary references that hang above the conversation like
badly hung chandeliers

ill love you like old people playing chinese checkers in a crate and barrel that you stop at
in the middle of a road trip through the southern united states

ill love you eating barbecue in georgia with the sauce on your forearms on your chin on
the tip of your nose where u cant see it without going crosseyed

ill love u running down the street trying to catch a bus but like just barely missing it and
having to catch the next one which is all sorts of unfortunate
i dont understand why people get so excited about the metro card poems
anyone can do them
you should try
if you ever get sad when ur sitting home alone wrap urself in a blanket like a burrito and let
yourself cry a lot, its neccessary
make tea from your tears and the best weed you can find and drink it, youll get a strange kind of
high that will make you feel like youre a Rock Star sitting burritoed in your bedroom eyes dilated
to heck
call your exes and tell them why you loved them and tell them why you dont love them anymore
and then forgive them for all of their Trespasses and say that its ok youre still alright
drink more tear tea
call your friend who also writes but for different reasons and tell him whats going on and listen to
him rap along to das racist making omelettes in his kitchen
call your friend who you think is your best friend but you dont know for sure if that sentiment is
reciprocated and tell him ur feeling like a Rock Star, he will tell you a secret of the universe that u
should write down and remember forever and then hell start cackling like a hyena and you have
to start not remembering that time in first semester when u woke up naked next to him at eleven
o clock in the morning
check your horoscope and make sure there arent any planets that govern over your sun sign
that are in retrograde
go outside and stand in the middle of the sidewalk and wait. youll know what to do when youre
out there long enough
i wonder what r. kelly is doing right now
i wonder what the pope is thinking about
i wonder what all of the dogs in the whole universe are thinking. do they have the same basic
thought patterns
i wonder what the gazelle on the african savannah thinks right before a hidden lioness jumps out
and breaks its neck
i wonder what the mouse thinks right before the housecat yowls and snuffs out its existence
i wonder what lebron james is thinking
i wonder what

p.s. i dont understand why were not listening to dark swedish techno all the time. its the perfect
soundtrack for a sad teen movie about internet pals
HAHAHA WOW

eddie murphy's nineteen eighty song called party all the time is the best song in the universe and
u cant really convice me otherwise
its so perfect
rick james is in the video at his most coked-up and his hair looks like he took a photo from an
ancient egyptian anthropology magazine into the salon for a reference like my mom always told
me to do with photos of skinny white starlets
im not a skinny white starlet but my haircut is amazing and so was rick james'
holy cow were standing in the snow and
its sticking to ur eyelashes
and theres a streetlight making everything
sparkle a whole lot
u look real pretty under the streetlight eyelashes sparkling
===
ill love u in a dark stairwell in a school somewhere
its ok nobodys uncle is going to come with a maglite and
shine it into our eyes
there arent any uncles anymore its ok
Im going to fold into you
your body is a piece of fancy origami paper from japan
i love you in japan like a floating city
i love you in osaka like the moon above clouds
--
ill do downwards dog under the water ill do sun salutations under the sand ill do the lotus pose
sitting on a lily pad in borneo
im not even into yoga
--
ill try to kiss you on the mouth but miss and instead graze your ear a little bit and surprise both of
us
--
ill love you under the velvet sky
ill love you in the park in the city
ill love you in the back of your moms giant suv on the way home from the movies
--
its cold out i give you a haircut
standing on my porch with your shirt off
a bunch of girls pass by a bunch of boys pass by
you laugh like a maniac brush off the back of your neck and roll a cigarette
--
today in class we looked at a photograph of a man fucking a watermelon
it was “diverting”
--
i think i am a vampire there is nobody looking back at me from the mirror
im immutable im nobody in particular
im sorry i say and i fold into myself
bones snapping and collapsing
--
god break my bones and clip my wings and shape me
i am made of plasticine i live in your little sister's toybox
my neighbour is a polly pocket
--
please god give me a reason to exist that doesnt involve multivariable calculus or the stock
market
--
i tried to explain that one scene in gummo with the bikes and metal background music. he just
said oh and didnt press the image. it sucked
--
mr shwazoolu is the name of a cat i know
--
last year i made out with a german guy, i say
he tasted faintly like strawberry yoghurt and had a girlfriend
--
dear my sister
im pretty sure one of us messed up the birthing order, u were supposed to go first
oh well
hows being a high schooler. do u have friends
tell me when u stop thinking smirnoff ices are tolerable drinks
alternatively tell me when u want to smoke and talk about boys
i have a good dealer
his name is matt, i think
ive never asked
you kind of have to respect some level of anonymity with dealers
i honestly dont understand when people say "i dont like the internet"
GOOD MORNING TODAY I AM
WISHING I WAS RURONI KENSHIN
IF YOU READ THIS OUT LOUD YOU HAVE TO PROMISE ME YOULL YELL EVERY SINGLE
WORD OF IT

IM SCREAMING THROUGH THE TREES IM

SCREAMING THRU THE FOREST IM
SCREAMING THRU THE STREETS OF THE
CITY IM MAKING A RUCKUS IM BEING THE
EYE OF MY OWN HURRICANE IM BEING THE
WATERSPOUT IM BEING THE TYPHOON IM
BEING THE TEENAGE ARSONIST WE READ
ABOUT IN YOUNG ADULT NOVELS IM BEING
THE SHIVA IM BEING JUST THE
DESTRUCTIVE ASPECTS OF THE SHIVA IM
BEING THE FIRE IM BEING THE LIGHTER
FLUID IM BEING THE CHAIN SAW
BBRRRRNNBRRRRRRRBBBRRRBBRBRR IM
BEING THE HATCHET IM BEING THE DOUBT
DEEP IN YOUR HEART IM BEING THE LOUD
UNIDENTIFIABLE NOISES YOU ATTRIBUTE
TO WILD CATS AT THREE A.M.
my friend alex sounds like the state of new jersey
he is arboreal in the way that an oak tree is arboreal
he talks to me about pine trees and immanuel kant and drum and bass
a lot of the time i lose the thread of his references but its ok its fun to try
me to sean re: this poem:
"here let me read it to you no wait it is *so* gimmicky nevermind"
i am hopelessly in love with everyone i meet

i want to take all of the people to the beach and walk with them hand in hand and tell them my
stories and listen to their stories and go then into the ocean to float weightless and wet and
naked
i want to walk with them through the city i want to nervously put my hand on their arm and pull
them close and whisper something
i want to lie with them in my bed rain outside bodies pressed flush the night sneaking in through
the window and wrapping us in itself
the people will write me little letters and i will feel like i am in a movie written in nineteen ninety-
nine, mom jeans and all, and i will curl up into myself and my bones will collapse and i will
supernova

I u sed to wri te l etters. aq u i l i n e seraph s, su m m on you r sou l s an d take m e ou t

of m y bod y, d rop m e h eavy on a beach . I ’ l l com b th e san d . I ’ l l d rown si x ti m es
before su n ri se, j u st to d ri ve h om e poi n ts m ad e by som e g erm an ph i l osoph er
an d m aybe for fu n I ’ l l rebu ke th em as th e su n sets. ari stotl e kn ew h i s sh i t,
m an . wi l l ow l eaves d rag m e u n d er. I ’ m n ot l etti n g g o. su n bi rd s. th u n d erbi rd .
q u etzal . you r eyes are th e col or of oak l eaves an d th e sky, sn apsh ot spru n g .
m y th ou g h ts scatter. sorry. an oth er ci g arette. you ’ l l l i g h t i t? th an ks. peopl e
can be d ecen t som e ti m es.
THATS IT
THANK U
blare coughlin
1 9/q/montreal
thank u for reading
youre a Good Friend