FLUORIDE VOWELS AND THE GOATWHORE INTERLOCUTOR

Harmony Korine / Ari Marcopoulos: Out & About / September 15, 2005

The following article, written by Harmony Korine, appears in the book Ari Marcopoulos: Out & About (Alleged Press, 2005).

When I stopped bullets it was the time continuum and the truncated momentum of the average man who truly instilled virtue and pride into the sunken facade. It was the morning glories, the saints and the unforgiven, it was the way in which you shrugged things off, and it was as if you had galvanized the ship, its crew, its shuffleboard and its buffet, the dolphins on the side, the music was more warbly and slightly melted and still I wanted to take your hand and walk through the palace. Breath in breath out. Jumping jacks with the lamaze coach, watching the fan sue his idol for libel, and as we sat so close to the fire we prayed for rain so many days in a row and wished on the crops, the corn, the buffalo, the skin diseases, the tramps and the wormy mother who proved fellatio could be traced back to the Greeks and landing not far from here with the pilgrims till the pages of genesis were stuck together. It had been a few months since we first found the Berbers of the Sahara investing fame and fortune into the looking glass. It seemed like old hat around those parts to skin your tangelo before you ate it. The shish kabob skewers, fried pigeon, goat dung orgies with checks made out to Sophocles, the cod pieces flying onto your bed at night, and having to pitch a tent with your dark skinned in-laws, smuggling waffles in your hand bag, six scabs short of a brain aneurysm, little orphan annies stolen passport, a cavity search in Syria and the wash of dreams that haunt me and dead best friends who were better than me but who just decided the trip wasn't worth it and sometimes the soil makes a better bed for those lost in the forest of unshed tears. It's me here, colonel Goatwhore of the famous give and take, of the places on the map where the wind is too scared to blow. I know what your thinking before you mention it. It's easy when we're all taking showers together. You get to see mine and I get to pretend that you have one. Can you dream of the darkness when the rainbow flies, can you live in the bastard sects, can you turn down the blessings that god has bestowed, spit on the tulips, pull the teeth of your brother, reject yourself, want for little, want for nothing? You see I can. I am that Man. I am that man who washed up on the black shores. you mightn't laugh if you knew my age, how long I've been here, how crooked my back, how dark my circles, how I've never truly died and how I've come to be reborn over and over in your image, again and again, how I can't fade, the way I've preyed on the strong and the weak alike. I've been praying and hovering above you for always, on rocks, inside boulders, under mud, in waves and cliffs...




Ari Marcopoulos: Out & About (2005)