Blue Charlatan Numbness

The Dairy of Theodore Kemp

20 March

Rabid monsters and rose darlings: you have come to grasp my attention. Fear not, you will be watched, touched, and I will be scratched in due time. We will feel each other.

Believe me when I say: ‘An unkempt bed is a bad sign.’

24 March

There was one patrol that came by earlier. They must have eyed the place. Was there another patrol that slipped by while I was… I’m not sure, or I don’t remember.

The mongoose has freed himself; the leopard is still caged. He tends to himself, although I do leave him be.

The yard is a tidy garrison of weeds and palms. We have a wide margin here for accepted truths and rejected opinions. Plants are cleaned and dried when dead. Specimens are cared for, loved.

Have you not heard of the mistresses in my bushes? The weeds have grown and have gone to lengths to extend their presence.

25 March

My bungalow does not stand the presence of mother. Why does she disturb me when the sun is clearly under? Why does my mind wander to what happens elsewhere? Why doesn’t my body pick itself up and go where man has gone before?

27 March

Shopkeeper? (Fantasy)

Jealousy harms the buyer. He jumps, skips, crawls up the mountains where bargains await him and where businesses close their doors. Shopkeeper? Come closer and have a look at this indignant man. Don't you have soft, pink marketing that a non-panther can use? Don't you feel ashamed that you won't share spaghetti with him? And where is the cheese, grated, from a unique location and made by a farmer with a gentle character? Where has the pain of a child gone, where one may kiss the sore knee or urge the gloomy face to shine by caressing the spotless cheek?

Your gaze? (Fantasy 2)

Shall we consider your gaze, approach your mind as a body? I dare not think of you. The peaceful treaty has just been broken and the meeting hall has been sold. My will is no longer relevant, because the water always rises with the wind. What do you want? The quality of an artisanally cooked ham? What a will you have, that an animal may not offer itself. What a nasty look you throw at me as soon as the postman leaves. What trickery you use to send me out. My heart aches as it doesn’t know how to express itself in person.

30 March

The fridge has died. We have buried it. The gaze of the leopard said it all, I do not wish to share it with anyone. How shall we climb hills now; though it shall be easy to dream of green plains? I have hid the bodies in the background; even a great painter would not include the important clues in his works.

31 March

The sun has gone down, my lips long for the soft skin of a woman. My potential is down on the ground where it is mortally wounded, though it is keeping my destitute body company.

1 April

Mud has pulled me through the case of resurrection. At the crossroads (Main Street and Silver Junction Avenue) we were torn to shreds by guilt. A feverish red appeared in her visage; the mill stopped spinning. We craved a certain childish joy, yet felt what could be classified as a Blue Charlatan Numbness.

I discharged her and we went our separate ways. She took Main Street, was never seen again, I chose Silver Junction. Our ways were merry, unless something did happen, but that’s how it is with me. I don’t remember and even when staring the thing blankly in the face, I’m not sure whether I’m really doing just that.

2 April

Have you folks heard of the Herd of Zyrkon? Beneath the steps toward our peaceful mountain here, there lies a strange path. There are riddles there that I have yet to solve, but they point in the direction of the Herd of Zyrkon. The Herd contains wolves and sheep, they say. Who says that? I don’t know. But I’ve cried and laughed about it, so my assumption must be close to what some may view as a universal truth. The truth is, I have never been impatient, so what I write must have some type of strange validity. And to make peace with me is not hard, since I do not wish pain upon anyone except the pain that life itself chooses to bestow upon the sufferer.

3 April

What if you silenced someone from the deep wilderness? Will he swear he never knew anything? Will he give in and avoid the threats? He will turn around and pretend he never met you and go about his daily routine, being himself more efficiently than ever before.