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It’s not easy being a Sultan. I have more wives than I know what to do with, and still my outfits clash.
Don’t tell me. I have mirrors. I can see. And what I can see, is good.
I see I still have all my limbs. How many? It doesn’t matter. I’m tired of looking at them. Someone bring me some wives to drape over my various appendages.
Put her over there. And let her bisect the triangle described by the other two. Or maybe not. Bring me one who is more limber. No, I do not need to move. Yes, it is a double standard because I get to have double the fun!
And now, finally, my movement is limited by all this beauty. And only at this time can my brain start working. Because my brain is in limbo since it is always trying to escape from my body. Yes, it thinks it can except when it knows it can’t.
I love being buried under so many arcs and curves and chords. I also trust this setup more than my bodyguards because it is always moving and squirming, and the wives are always bisecting each other. When I am like this, my fear of death disappears.
When I am at the bottom of the heap, I can start thinking of the immortality of the soul. I am too scared, otherwise. Immortal is such a long time. But not long enough, am I right?
It is a liminal space, where the element of fire predominates. With hints of earth, since I am being pressed into the ground. That makes me a flower, by extension, and because I said so.
I would trust more of my enemies, if they, too, were held down by at least six wives. We should make the world a safer place.
And all our flowers would finally open.

“Well,” said Majestine, “it looks like he’s dead.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” sobbed Angelaura. “And so I ordain you to lezzerect him.”
“Do you think I can make the dead stand again as alive?”
“He doesn’t need to stand. He can kneel. But yes, alive, please.”
Angelaura brooded.
Majestine blinked disapprovingly. “If you’re going to wallow like this, it makes me question why I raised you as a Princess of Dextopia.”
“I’d rather wallow with Prince Enrique than bask in the sun all by myself wearing a silly tiara.”
Majestine blinked again. “It may be a silly tiara, but it is studded with conflict diamonds. From a generation ago. And you know how difficult it is for me to speak of conflicts.”
“I’m sorry I brought up unpleasantness. But can you see how sad I become when you talk about gem-studded things when my own stud lies collapsed on the ground!”
“I thought you did not like men. The whole point of our Queendom is, we don’t like men.”
“You know it’s not that I like them. I feel sorry for them.”
Majestine thought about this. It made sense, and yet! “Liking them has never been done. Feeling sorry for them has also never been done. And, of course, lezzerecting any of them has never been done. We don’t know if they’re strong enough.”
“No, we don’t.”
“And, surely, if you liked one of them, you wouldn’t want to kill him by accidentally.”
“It seems all I have are choices that obscure the one the other.”
“Shall we just let him stay dead?”
“Oh, but he was so cute. He just waded in the water when he saw me.”
“Yes. He didn’t know he couldn’t swim. Probably a clear sign he wasn’t that smart, even when he was alive the first time. Think of what might happen if he returns to us.”
“Time is short. I command you to wand him!”
“But, Princess! Does he even have the neural capacity of a woman? Wanding could really fuck him up.”
“Or it could teach him to feel. Do it. Now!”
And so, muttering, Majestine whipped out her special, adamantine wand and touched it to the snow-white cheek of the unmoving Prince Enrique. He twitched slightly.
“Try other places!” whinged Angelaura.
And so, the wand was moved down the sternum, across the thorax, until it rested atop the abdomen. And there, it began to glow.
“Maybe they really do have ovaries?” It had been part of the debate about these legendary creatures.
Though they could not believe their eyes, the Prince rose up. He was the first of any other species to be lezzerected.
What a shame he got up and ran the hell away.
“OK, Princess, giver of life, “smirked Majestine. You gave it a good try. I know you’re disappointed he didn’t talk to us.”
“I am nothing of the kind. Who says I wanted him for his conversation? I just liked to watch him run. And I got a double serving in one day.”

THE END

I can’t force you to love fission.
In fact, fission scares a lot of people well darn to heck.
Fission occurs when a neutron slams into a larger atom, forcing it to excite and split into two smaller atoms—also known as fission products. Additional neutrons are also released that can initiate a chain reaction. When each atom splits, a tremendous amount of energy is released.
Some people, oh they know that a big mess of energy is hidden inside. Let it out? Well, just one ding dang minute. The whole splitting open part is enough to give ‘em the heebie-jeebies.
And yet, what if I were to tell you that, when folks get a nose job, usually this involves breaking the nose?
Oh, I didn’t know that! I hear you snort. You didn’t notice because you got put under for the procedure. And there we are. Maybe it hurts to go through fission. Maybe it doesn’t. How would you know?
Some of us would rather stay inebriated. What if the snot, blood and fire is the way universes done gets bilt?
Or what if fusion was the better way? I hear you ask me this as we sit in a fusion restaurant. It is a Brazilian-Polish bistro. This is not a new cuisine, I think. This is where meat meets meat. But, there is not time to think this, because the fusion waitress brings me a fusion drink which contains passion fruit juice and Polish vodka. Yes, they are mixed, but it is not fusion, because of something called mass, and this is why it is diffusion, meaning the pulp is on the bottom of the drink and the vodka oil slick is on the top. When I drink it, I know I will have to chug the whole thing just to get some flavor, and I do, and that is why I puke 30 minutes later.
I am in the bathroom after that, popping an antacid into a glass of water. It is fizzy. It is rough, and ephemeral, and magical, like a firecracker on the fourth of July.
I am not forcing anyone to fawn, or blow a fuse. Gosh darn it, it is your decision if you take the path of fission.

“Coffee Will Bring the World Together”

“You’re Gonna Love Our Wings”

I did it all by myself. I climbed up the wall. I shot the security camera and the other security camera. I set up the computer virus. I lifted myself up the wall so I could climb back out again. I am able to do this because I do Parkour on the regular. Of course, I practice in secret so no one can observe and imitate my moves. I know how to do all these things because, ever since I was a kid, I rented all the action movies from the video store. I didn’t need anyone to get me a membership. Well, what I should say is I have a very active imagination, I just watched those movies to see if anyone could explain action and destruction the way I already understood it. What did my parents say about these tendencies? I don’t have parents. Or if I did, I don’t know about them and they don’t know about me. I’m “Inconceivable”. And while we’re at it, you’re right to be confused because I’m unique AND I don’t have an opposite. How could I, when you think about it? Don’t answer. It wasn’t a question.

When I am getting ready for an adventure, I sing out loud. I sing in harmony, with myself, of course. It’s something between Gregorian chant and the classic vocal arrangements of Journey. Now, those guys will be around in 400 years because it doesn’t matter who’s in the band as long as they’re following the formula.

How do I feel? Would it kill me to smile? Who do I need to smile for, you? If I smiled, it would probably break my jaw. It’s not used to doing those things, you see.

Lastly, I can reproduce all by myself. Admittedly, if I did this it would give me someone interesting to talk to. But I know I never will. I’m way too picky of an eater, and am too smart to add that much more work to my day.

“Sight Unseen”

Antnee knew it was a good idea. The more stars he saw through his telescope, the more popcorn he would need to make for his diorama. He had been popping off all day. Life was like butter. Stars shaped by force. After winter break, he would bring his diorama in to the Science Fair and people would see all the constellations in the sky. At the same time. Which, Antnee knew, you can’t do from one point on Earth. I mean, not to be a nerd, he thought, but when you’re in the Northern Hemisphere you see the stars in the Northern Hemisphere. How’re you gonna see the Southern Hemisphere unless you go to Auckland, which sounds like awkward, which is what I am, he thought. You’ll never see all the stars all at once. You’re probably not going to be able to bend over, suck your own dick, and shove your head up your ass, either. But, if you walk by my Science Fair project, you will see it all. More than everything! Most people are born, or are birthed if you want to make it sound more active, and then they hold all of their laughter inside. The laughter, he thought, turns into rage, which turns into smiles. Smiles are definitely not the same thing as mirth. And if you don’t know that, well, what else are you missing out on that you don’t know, either? Neptune was there and no one knew it. They argued about it because they saw a wobble in one of the moons of one of the other planets. So they looked in their telescopes again and there it was, in 1846. This might set a precedent. Are you having a bad day, he wanted to ask the girls in his class? Maybe there’s a moon following you around. Actually, Antnee thought he would make a sign next to his diorama. This is as good as it has ever been, it would say. If you want things to get better, kiss me under the popcorn night sky. Antnee enjoyed these thoughts. But, you know, I am looking through this telescope using human eyes. Why don’t I add in all the stars I don’t even see? And it was a good idea. And he would need much more popcorn.

It was a very inclusive orgy.  I didn’t expect to go to jail for it, though.  That’s why I’m in seclusion right now.

The world is a many splendored, inclusive thing.  Like the clitoris.  The more nerve endings included, the better.  No one was excluded.  At least that was not our intention.

So, back to the orgy.  Part of the reason it became controversial was because we broke into the Pentagon.  But it wasn’t for anything bad.

I mean, picture the world as a perfect sphere.  Can’t you do that?  Thank you.  I know I’m demanding, but it’s just my repressed programming saying that.

The world is a sphere.  The clitoris is an upside down wishbone.  These are good shapes.  They represent union.  The Pentagon is none of these things.  Its purpose is exclusion.  We can’t have that.  The only thing you can do with a pentagon, other than ignore it, is take a bunch of them and make a soccer ball covered in groups of this shape.  That would mean interpenetration and mutual respect.  This is not the lesson we get from our Pentagon.  Did you know it is located in Virginia and has twice as many bathrooms because of racial segregation?

I spent so many years living in delusion.  What kind of delusion?  The delusion of separation.  Like right brain and left brain stuff.  There were spaces between me and the things that I said.  I was not open to new ideas because everything was closed.  So, one day at yoga, that’s when the prajna hit the road.  Once the thought crashed into this dimension, it had to be shared.

So many naked people, so few security clearances.  We were let in from the inside, by a sexually liberated civil servant.  The system rebelled against itself.  But still, it was kind of top secret.  Because I had always wanted to be a top.  Is that so wrong?

Now, I ask you, should a world power like the U.S.A., which uses other countries like toys, get upset about me using sex toys inside the Department of Defense?  It sounds very defensive of them, doesn’t it?  When they led me away, I was handcuffed but not clothed.  They might as well have put barbed wire around my pudenda.  Isn’t what they do when they find something they can’t control, like the Rio Grande, put up walls and barbed wire?

So, I am awaiting trial but folks are kind of busy at the moment putting the real criminals on trial.  So I will stay secluded from the world but not from myself.  I will be ready for the next orgy when I get out.

The bureau of military intelligence was busy interrogating people.

The officers kept track of the forced confessions using a large number of hidden recording devices.

Unfortunately, a lot of bad things had happened which the Supreme Leader didn’t want to take responsibility for, so there had been a need to arrest a larger than average number of folks who could confess.

With so much to record, the batteries ran out midway through the torture, brutality and data gathering.

This was not discovered until the next day.  Who would tell the Supreme Leader?

Would it be an option to all get together and see if the officers could remember what the prisoners had said?  Maybe they could write even better versions.  They stayed up all night, and managed to pull it off.  Well, it was like looking at plastic surgery, you could tell something had been done.
Conclusion: the more you learn, the less you know