The Death and Life of Zebulon Finch, Volume 2
Page 63
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• • •
Háááh háh hah/// ĐeĀrest ReĀĐer/Āre yoÜ theRRRRRRE?
ŴAiŧ/// Waiŧ/// W → a → i ↓ T ↓
noW i reTurn
↵ reTurn
as mr graY
↵ reTurn
The greaT//amerikan//novelisT
↵ return
mighT say
↵ return
Hááááááááááááááááá
• • •
BĒtter nõw? BEtter? Better/// →/caGe PaGeant↔Barker↔Johnny/// Gone muTe/// Teach me/Johnny/// Words R b33s/Mr Stick sir/// Reach/// Grab some/// LooK in hand/// B33s/Words/// Pointed//soft/// Hours↔sting↔minutes↔sting↔years↔sting/// AlWays This open Mouth/// WelcoMe/b33s/// FurrY leGs/// Sinus WiGGle/// SKull[question mark] Feelers[question mark] Itch//scratch/// Words→Worlds/// Mouth W-i-d-e/// Flood/bEEs/// StinG→sinG/// Throat clearinG/// Johnny goes//HACK/CouGh/snort[exclamation] I cĀn do it/// So mũch of Ŵorld/I hĀve leĀrneĐ so sloŴly/// BũT in lĀngũĀge I hĀve ĀlWĀys been Ā qÜick leĀrnerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrr rrr rrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrr rrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrr rrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrĐĀmmITrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrr rrr rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrr rrrrr rrrrrrrrrrFÜcKrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr rrr rrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
• • •
SloWer/Z3bul0n/// Don/t hurry don/t be cocKY/// For once in Yr stup1d d3ath/// Pretend this is Yr royal Quiet de luXe[exclamation]/// Hunt/pecK///
pecK→PeeK from Yr blanKet of bEEs/// LooK Mother//mY proud sentences Grow/& Grow/& Grow/// NoW/lets trY punctuation {GraMMer, the dullest lesson, I want to Go outside & plaY} // SloW/sloW/// Hello/Reader[period] Hello aGain[comma] Reader[period] Hello,,Reader.. Hello, Reader.
• • •
Or Listener? InterPreter? ReceiVer[question mark x3] This is a Machine but ≠ machine//it is an eniGma. {But not EniGma Machine sorrY vonLuth Háá} (1) cellular{tech} + (2) cellular{body}. MY KEEPER has attached machine to ManY other bi0l0Gic iteMs to scanscanscan↔for Life but theY are 2oo b0rinG [exclamation] I’ve Waited years0102030405 & years0607080910 for mY turn w machine. But KEEPER is LĀźY. {EasY, Z3bul0n, Yr temper.} KEEPER uses machine on Self{masturBation} While I sit on Shelf. ←L00k it rhymes {JasonStavors Mr Poet Collected WorKs Watch Yr back}. NoW atlastatlastatlast: w machine I can speaK/Write/thinK/send, reach out 2 You[x10].
• • •
Setting: KEEPER’s shop. Shelves+cabinets+boXes of curios. Shop ≈ MuseuM but ≠[exclamation] KEEPER ♥ $$$ More than Life. Everysinglemorning for years1112131415, KEEPER (1) unlocks (2) windoWshades (3) lights (4) reGister (5) dusts curios (6) winds watch. Which watch↔watch which? The Excelsior. Beside me it danGles/Gleams/is winded/ticktickticktick. The Excelsior hanGs above a {old, faded, curling} label//Quite informative↓
GENUINE EXCELSIOR POCKET WATCH NAWCC-CERTIFIED SERIAL NUMBER 17437487 AS SOLD CIRCA 1895, FOUND ON BODY BELIEVED TO BE ZEBULON “MOTHER-FATHER SAVAGE” FINCH, ESTABLISHED U.S. CULT LEADER IN 1970S-80S, RUMORED SPACE TRAVELER, LINKED TO HOLLYWOOD ACTRESS BRIDEY VALENTINE (B.1891–D.1969). POCKET WATCH BUILT TO LAST! BIOLOGICAL MATTER AS-IS. ASK ABOUT PRICE.
I, Biological Matter, As-Is, ReGret to Inform the Reader {“Reader” 4 oldtimesake}: shop broWsers DO NOT Ask About Price. Browsers enter shop to escape octi-tentacles of snoW/rain/sleet. I knoW this Weather//I also know these Browsers/their Yoked shoulders & fat-lip frowns. Where o Where o Where is Z3bul0n F1nch? CHICAGO: homeland/scene of the crimes. I have ↵ returned, I thinK, to stand Final Trial. Hm-m-m-m are Browsers mY Jury of Peers? N000000. Browsers look @ Me & I must be an! astounding! sight! {old vanity?} yet Browsers show No Interest & I cannot puppydog bc I am MÙŤĒ {anger, anger} & it is only the machine, Right Now, after years1617181920 that gives me a Voice. ChicaGoans haVe Become halfhuman//theY are Kaposi’s sarcomad w nodules/jacKs/cords. Taptaptap & swipeswipeswipe & nodnodnod & blinkblinkblink, give↔take/send↔receive. Browsers wear reGalia of Hitlerjugend snuGness. Holstered with Weapons in Sexy Styles© for Mom & Fun Styles© for Kids. Their gizmos F*l*i*c*k*e*r before eVery distant Explosion. The Drill: (1) unfold plastic helmet (2) send↔receive warninG to family. So many Explosions. So many Drones. So many Wars. So many Cities I ♥/Hated kaputttttt. But ChicaGo Browsers act Bored! Taptaptaptaptap.
• • •
Here→is→what→happened: KEEPER after years2122232425 connects Me to machine & 20 min later {coincidence} ALL Browser gadgets F*l*i*c*k*e*r*F*l*i*c*k*e*r*F*l*i*c*k*e*r. No cute li’l eXplosion, this one! Browsers run & KEEPER runs & then it’s night & then it’s day & KEEPER does NOT (1) unlock (2) windoWshades (3) lights (4) reGister (5) dust curios (6) wind watch. {Gasp} what if KEEPER never ↵ returns & there is no one left to wind the Excelsior?[x10} So I must speaK/Write/thinK/send into machine & fastfastfast.
• • •
For years2627282930 I’ve wondered: Did my Reader boo↓hoo↓ when I selected 2World Trade Center for a tomb?[x2]![x2] Or are You of blacKer humor?→did you háááh háááh hááááááh? Sayeth Th0mas H0bb3s & repeateth Z3bul0n F1nch beneath 2WTC: “The life of man [is] solitarY, poor, nastY, brutish & short.” That last descriptor N0PE//but the former ✓✓✓✓. A better Mantra: Haml3t: “The rest is silence. O, O, O, O. [dies]”. In my tomB I Became {right on schedule}: a lost matinee reel//suspended in air thick & rancid//niBBlins for curious rodents Who, yuKKed Out, high-tailed it. I had: 0thought 0feeling 0motion except to Wind the Excelsior. For 6 yrs/300 wks/2000 days I windedwindedwinded & my plan achieVed tension/balance/equipoise~~~~~~~~~~~~~///
• • •
Hm-m-m-m I would call it a WHUMP. 2WTC bends left. Nonononono→I am 6 years deep & subsea & albino & eyeless//but the sirens are instant & build & build[x10] & though I am lost I feel the Portent of WHUMP & hold the Excelsior to my ear & it is 17 min/17 FÜcKīnġ MīN/17-17-1717171717 betw WHUMP & BOOM. WHUMP ≠ BOOM//this is not Sound but Motion: dust slaMs down/iron squeals/nails-bolts-screws-rods-pipes pinG & zinG/1000 windows ¡ShAtTeR! in sync. No 1 scream can penetrate basement+basement+basement, but 1000s? YES: even Words: jesuschristohgødohfuckmaydaymaydayhelphelphelp fast//along w WHOOSH, which I hear & feel but cann0t understand but will 1 day learn is **Flaming Jet Fuel** coursing ↓ elevator shafts & pouring→my nicequietlittlemousehouse.
• • •
2WTC becomes lighter, lifts from my back→businesspeople leaving//then heaVier, back onto my shoulders←firemen entering. Z3bul0n F1nch knows a Bad Idea When he hears it. I press my Face to the ceiling & shout {voice, 7+ years of disuse = ŮĜĿŶ} GetOutGetOut & no one hears bc the THWACK/THWACK/THWACK of what I know in my {Excelsior} heart to be landing Meteorites {shh don’t tell Ry}: Barringer craters for Manhattanites future Worship. EXcept hááááááh no, it’s Fall[ing][en] Men, olympic dives off Floors 85-110. Judges’ score? 9/11/01, that 3rd judge is No Fun @ all.
• • •
My tomb fills w smoke/w heat/w dirt/ waist-high & chin-high & I’m overcome & clawing & bashing, HÉctor you talentedsonofabitch I’m traPPed. Survival instinct = Drowning Rat; I tucK my rat tail & sit & let the smoke thicken//coarsen//heat. APocalyPse was anticipated only not so soon// 1 hour laTer & ooooops
[center italic] ROAR/CONVULSE/WEIGHT/HEAVY [/center italic]
HÉctor’s buttresses & columns = toothpick & straws//I am beneath//I am within. Even Harpocrates 7 had air. This: black Vacuum & hellhot. I am pinned//pinned is like flying. No light shines till Phantom Fireballs FLOOM FLOOM FLOOM, is it flaminG Gas or fireworks to honor the dead? Police {Scheinberg: Pigs} are crushed to hamburGer & hellhot heat makes their Guns Go BLANGBLANBLANG & ricochet ↑→↓ around the Tight Tangled Mess. Tectonic shifts/aLL settles/now. It ↵ returns, the
• • •
(silence)
(of)
(a)
(freshly)
(fallen)
(snow)
• • •
29 min later, 1WTC copycats & also collapses & screws up my view: shifting: cracking: sliding: glimmer of sky: glimmer gone: sky: gone: sky: gone: gone: gone: but anyhow sun is blanketed like Hiroshima. Soot↔Moot. The Dark Is Stable/reliable. Every Last American is Buried alive/put to Bed. Stone pillow. Slab sheet. Pixie dust. Shh.
• • •
{Psst, Reader. Are You Asleep? No? Look how I mastered machine! I can do this. Õř Î çąń dō ţħîŝ. It isn’t hard. SpeaK/Write/thinK/send. All those months I spent w pencils, how Perfectly Primitive.}
• • •
G.r.a.d.u.a.l.l.y silence {+bees?} gives Way to GENERATORS. It’s still day, I think? Hellhot & cokeblack. People cry for air. It’s night, I think? No crying for air anymore! Only GENERATORS {powering What?}. Oh & a dog. Bark, bark. Go away doggie. Bark, bark. Wait is this Heaven? Clown {sinless, the Only One} would be there For Sure/drippingblacknose & droolymuzzle. I’m sorry[x100] I kicked you. BUT do dogs have headliGhts? Miles aBove ///a slit, a crevasse\ swirls of dust are bothered by a BoBbInG white beam. Do dogs speak? Yell or Tap, a voice says. The voice cracks bloodmucus. Yell or Tap. Yell or Tap. A talking dog! I go háh
• • •
I can Make out a Man’s face. It is faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar. Buddy, he says. Hey, buddy. I knoW these words. Flashback: Setting: 1941, CA beach, Tan Blond Boy pulls Z3bul0n F1nch from sea, about Pearl Harbor: Buddy, Hey, Buddy. These are Words of Rescue. The Man coaXes & dog whines. You have to be INSANE to lower yrself into this spiderwebbed rubble//INSANE he is. He spins on a cable. His belt has a Hammer & he Hammers. Raindrops keep fallin’ on my head but the rain
is cement pellets & steel helixes. The Major obstacle is removed. The Man climbs back up. {He is INSANE.} He drops a rope//it lands on my neck//ah, the Noose, the Suicide Symbol of Z3bul0n X! I wriggle myself into it, comfy, an old sock & ↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑
• • •
I ↵ return to Earth. GENERATORS are (((loud))) up here. I am caught on wire. The Man & says Don’t worry, Buddy & he saws @ wire w KBAR knife//he says KBAR is a Marine’s tool, bestof thebest & I was a Marine years3132333435 but Z3bul0n F1nch has Opinions on Knives & the Best is Gordo’s knife & I reach for it as Proof & can’t feel it & ooooops the pocket is gone & half my clothes have burned off & Gordo’s knife & Merle’s photo & Barker’s ad & Piano’s map are 40 feet below & the Excelsior oh no the Excelsior? It is tangled in my sweatshirt threads & the Man cuts me free & the Excelsior falls & I catch it w my hand & the Man says You’re Alive, You’re Alive, You’re Alive & it All in All it seems rude to contradict.
• • •
I take a Look at the Excelsior. It is CRAC//KED→my heart is broken! But: Still it tickticktickticks & I siGh & am fully ↵ returned.
• • •
Oh no you lost yr arm he says & I say Long ago & so he says Oh whew & lies down. Look around Z3bul0n: You are bacK in Hamburg. Ain’t that curious? Operation Gomorrah has flaTTened the city & Germans need to be scraped off w shoVels. I perK my burnt ear for bomber ratatatatatatat: only U.S.A would light destruction w Hollywood kliegs. I see a Mount St. Helens of twisted steel red & brown & orange & gray gone Alien Blue bc the Giant lights hung up like Moons.
• • •
Dog licks my face. I ♥ you Dead Man/I ♥ you Dead Man. The Man goes Háááh & says he had to trick Dog all day to find Pretend People or Dog got depressed but I’m not a Pretend Person am I? I think I might ♥ Dog. The Man gets energy back & Kneels over me & is Not Encouraged! {ECT scalp burns & Mr Avery’s neckhole &c &c &c.} The Man is 100% WHITE. Ethereal angel or bloodless revenant? Neither: He wipes face & he is 100% BLACK {Ritchie Tucker: Afro-American, mon frère!} He is coated with ASH & those doves flaPPing around are scraps of paper. PAPER_. My nÔtebÔÔks! Thëŷ’ll bë LëfŤ BëhĭŃĐ
• • •
Shh/Z3bul0n/shh. The Man ½-carries me, SLOW bc Flames Spew ↑↑ & loose rubble & hellhot I-beams & bubbling plaster = walking on bedsprings. My oldborn/newborn face is on His chest & it says PORT AUTHORITY POLICE DEPT. It is a loooooong hike. The Man is (1) exhausted (2) strange (3) on speed? He goes: I’ve Only Found Feet, I Keep Only Finding Feet, Why Do I Keep Only Finding Feet? {He is enamored w My Feet.} Dawn comes jabjabjabbing thru haze until it C/U/T/S thru & I see smoke continents, a New Pangaea for Humans to populate, split into New Gondwanaland & New Laurasia so we can FightFightFight