Saturday, January 8, 2011
Private Spliff Vacant Head
And I approached the owner who was wearing a dark pair of aviators, not mirrored, a hat denoting some veteran affiliation or another, and a shock and awe humble army smugness, with my A-10 30mm cannon aflare, replete with angry red toothed mouth and pleasure to war angry eye decals, bombs active and tremblical hot, and I asked, "did you ever see any action pops?!"
The return fire was a silently whistling anvil colliding with a plate of metal, full of minted honor and duty and righteous patriotism, amounting to him ignore-ranting the question away. Battlezone. Shock and Awe. On the one hand: "They" be ultra good; best men ever in history. On the other: "They" have nastiest weapon systems ever.
"Excuse me sir but I don't like how that Excalibur hangs at your side. The blade looks a modicum or more crooked," Draco spoke to the old vet upon leaving the store with his purchase of 40 years service patches.
After the 40 years service patches had been sowed onto the stock buffalo jet black jacket, Draco visited a Crow at a stone tower atop a hill.. The details of the rendezvous-tryst-encounter will not be published here. The next recordable scene is of Cat Meadow adjusting the pins of an actual military private badge unto aforementioned stock buffalo jet black jacket and asking Draco, "Who is Private Spliff Vacant Head?"
"Blue mach-ic pulses, white gamma rays, and red stars glowic. That is what the colors of the badge signify," Draco replied. "Private Spliff Vacant Head is: asleep behind the wheel in a windowless cockpit, a scar over a wound-less wound, an artificial mirage, a posed poser kissing infinity, and seamless thin low dim. His mind be blanker than blank voidic with blind autopilot, static static fuzz cuz, Nothing forsaken, divided division with a pack-less entourage, a nether-coil blindside, whiteout glitch, blacken blacker black, highjacker of ideals, photonic fraud, absolute control with a counterfeit shroud, backward backside, forfeit gambit."
The current en vogue military fashion confounds. Nevertheless proudly, with his military private badge attached to his metal military issue green jacket with the name "Hillman" emblazoned upon the front, as Draco mans Fort Isolation on Battered Hill - the locale of the Walled in Pond Chich - he retreats and sojourns at his fort with so much nothing in his head that it is a surprise that the void does not create such a rift with its vacuum state that the entire area is not sucked in by the black hole of his mind.
And whilst at the edge of the pond under the surreal beauty of the Walled in Pond Chich awnings, ethereal beauty glows smiting the pixels of second and third and fourth hand reality recorded by electronic photon capture devices. Natural beauty smiles, caresses the retinas, stills and graces. The veil of the foreground, everything immediately visible, then drops and blinding blue giant stars being eaten by black holes appear. The massive mammoth glowic stars enchant as orbiting iridescent pterodactyls, wings outstretched, drop shardic charms that can be tasted by neurons and smelled on the tongue.
And this be not the first time the veil has dropped before Private Spliff Vacant Heads eyes and thus the 40 years of public service badges denote this fact sewed onto the shoulders of his stock buffalo jet black jacket. And the "blue mach-ic pulses, white gamma rays, and red charms glowic" of his private badge denote simply some of the effects that occur when the veil drops - the effects of the muses swinging on swings suspended from the blue giant stars; both singing beautifully.