" The Spooner is a superhero. Every night it'll just hit him, but he
can't predict when. Sometimes he'll be asleep and it'll wake him up. Other times he'll still be reading or watching television. Every night the adress is different. Sometimes it's
close enough to walk. Some nights he takes the bus. Some nights a cab.
He can visualize it long before he gets there. If it's a house or an appartment, or some strange basement room you get to from around the back, the Spooner always knows. He always finds the
door unlocked, or at least unlocked to him. He never stumbles, never trips over a chair or a coffee table, as he navigates this unknown space in the dark.
The Spooner always know
where the bedroom is. Someone sleeping in fetal position always occupies
the bed. He gets under the covers. He holds them. They never wake up.
They always whisper 'Thank you' in their sleep. "
Andrew Kaufman.
Ô Faculté ! Ô vieux !
Vous me pliez l'échine,
Vous me courbez l'esprit,
Rabotez ! Retranchez le pourri,
Modelez vite ! Tant que je marine
Dans votre glauque jus visqueux,
Soupe écœurante de savoirs gras.
"Viens, je vois bien qu't'es pas heureux,
Avale tout, et tu t'en sortiras.
Oui, le monde est moche, mais pas plus que toi.
Laisse-moi te lisser les angles, tu seras bien.
Arrête de bouger, assieds-toi,
Sois sage, tu ne sentiras rien."
Je mords, je griffe, je dors.
Las, les murs me fixent, me collent.
"Tu peux partir, cours, saute, vole !
Tu verras, à part la peur, il n'y a rien dehors."
He can visualize it long before he gets there. If it's a house or an appartment, or some strange basement room you get to from around the back, the Spooner always knows. He always finds the
door unlocked, or at least unlocked to him. He never stumbles, never trips over a chair or a coffee table, as he navigates this unknown space in the dark.
