ain’t that the truth

hi there. my name is brandon. I come to write to you a memorabilia. A short memory, that is to say. Something fun for everyone, the whole family.

I was walking through the park one day, and I stumbled. Fell down, didn’t see the path, tripped, choked my way into blackness.

As it were.

This, being a short memory, you’ll forgive me if i don’t elaborate. It is like swimming in cold water: you’re pretty sure you should be panicked, or at least your body thinks it should be. Freezing water, the kind you can see ice float past. When you swim: you can see ice float when you swim. It’s a bad idea to dwell in it. Cramps, nausea, a violent retribution; people say stay away with good reason. But there are places to swim, people to see. Or avoid. These things are here for a reason, don’t let them tell you they’re not. There are good reasons for saying that they’re not, but, that’s not the reason to let them not tell you that they’re not. Just keep swimming, is the thing.

Your body can only panic for so long, is the thing. Keep this in mind: panic is useful, it keeps you swimming. Without a continuous flow of adrenaline you would give up. That, as you can imagine, is fatal when walking through a park. Do not give up; walk through the darkness and the bracken. There is only so far that you can walk in the middle of a city before you meet someone of like mind, similar vocation, maybe a hint of hypothermia.

It’s the blue lips that you should look for.

What, no plot? Plot assumes a point: a place to go, something teleological. Law and the word — the end word — the word transported. Useless like pink lips.