We drove across the continent in search of the American dream and the settler fantasy of the open road
Long mountain man beard
Old gringos talking about watering their lawns in El Paso
Rio Grande
Pink cliffs
Navajo country
Thunderstorms in Arizona
LA was just another dusty wild west boomtown
We hung out on the beach in Malibu and got high and listened to Neil Young and watched the sunset and negotiated a peace treaty between scenester factions at Prado
All the beautiful LA starlet poets came out to our reading and took pictures of themselves and I was too high to read or talk
Then we went to the Hollywood hills and Barrett Avner read a poem he dedicated to me where he said he was gonna rape Peter Thiel
Rizzed up the CIA Laurel Canyon psyop poets
Inherent Vice fantasy bratty sub bottoms extracting indigenous knowledge as a path back to the cottagecore tradwife colonial hierarchies
Doing quirked up counterinsurgency
Pacific Coast Highway to the Bay, then back east
Dude ranches
Rocket engines on the highway
Shifty eye shady boys watching us smoke dope in the parking lot of the motel in Salt Lake City
Crashing out under a meteor shower at Wounded Knee
Our boy in Chicago was gone, his father’s funeral, the old man had tripped and broke his neck doing hot yoga on shrooms
Back in New York renouncing Maoism in a cathartic ritual of atonement and self-humiliation
The Measures Taken
Ghosting manic texts
I don’t have anything to do with that domestic Gladio shit anymore
We could’ve made a Charles Manson who listens to Charli XCX
Instead we’re now doing astral plane sex magic to summon pyromaniac tweakers in the hills who purify tinseltown in cleansing fire
Who immolate Bertolt Brecht and Thomas Mann and Arnold Schoenberg
Who teach Mel Gibson the dharma by relieving him from the burden of his stuff
And who punish the Gary Indiana estate for forsaking New York