“A JACKASS’S EARS” by ETHAN GATHY

“Soon the feral beast did beautify our wounds
With a body that knew:
You shouldn’t hurt the ones you love, unless you really want to”

─ Destroyer, “Self-Portrait with Thing (Tonight is not Your Night)”

 

I.

Through the bus window’s squitchy pane, Nathan watched the cul-de-sacs pass and frowned at where he approximated Bernice’s house to be. The bus poised in traffic, was like a slow beast with a belly full of bees, a day of school’s worth of talking pent up and being released. The boy behind Nathan repeatedly removed and reapplied the tape to the back of the seat. The racket subsided in intervals with the deposit of students at each stop. You could hear that R.E.M. song playing on the radio if you listened close.

Walking home Michael caught up to him and asked him whether he saw the wrestling match last night and as usual Nathan hadn’t.

─ Well he had ‘im in this headlock, like this! And then you know I was showing Mussolini how it happened at lunch and then Mrs. Rosson is kinda pissed and is like, “What are you doing?! Stop hitting Jeffrey!” and I tried to explain that I was just demonstrating and of course Mussolini is all red in the face cuz he’s a bit of a baby.

─ Haha wow, did you get in trouble? said Nathan.

─ Just detention is all. Continue reading

THREE POEMS by ETHAN GATHY

Miasma in the Desert

 

Arid bloom, the dryad’s store Console me in the everlasting
Las Vegas where the sand and sky themselves all are fasting
Gored by wanton horns, I am drained as faucets drained
And that umbrella we brought well where is it today

So many stupid towers and the unplucked rose for Emily
It’s a pity when all the forests have been divorced from land and sea
Into steel cold oblivion
The buzzard and eagle I’ll make them speak with dice
Jove’s Lake with loving grace
Makes even misers kind
The government was like a lunar goddess collecting ice in pails

Wait
My holy confidante
Wait
My spineless spine
I’ve got an orphic couplet I can call mine
No wait Continue reading

“ARBUCKLE DREEN” by ETHAN GATHY

“But whatever might be my opinion of friendship, to mention only the pleasure that it procured me, of a quality so mediocre as to be something half-way between physical exhaustion and mental boredom, there is no brew so deadly that it cannot at certain moments become precious and invigorating by giving us just the stimulus that was necessary, the warmth that we cannot generate ourselves.”

— Marcel Proust, A la recherché du temps perdu

 

 

 

─ Thank you for cuhling Whurlld Spice this is Anu Singh speaking how may I hulp you?

─ Rrrm yes, do you take fiery curry shits when you shit?

─ Axcuse me, sir, I am naht sure what you are meaning?

─ I mean don’t it burn your asshole and all?

─ Ai do nuht  dhink you are being kind, sir. Why do you cuhll?

─ Because I’m milking a goat and all that’s come out–

─ No! I duhnt want to know.

─ And all that’s coming out is boiled eggs and thread spools and I just wanted your help.

─ Dhat is nuht possible; do nuht try to pull on my leg. I am hanging up dhe phone. Good. Day.

*click*

─ Okay you have a good one now, ya hear?

Jessie put the phone down and let out a cackle that had more consonants than vowels and more dissonance than assonance. He looked at his two accomplices with a toddler’s grin, his mangy jowls upturned and his teeth gleaming like electricity. Continue reading

“SOON-TO-BE INNOCENT FUN” by ETHAN GATHY

“If repression has indeed been the fundamental link between power, knowledge, and sexuality since the classical age, it stands to reason that we will not be able to free ourselves from it except at a considerable cost.”

-Michel Foucault, the History of Sexuality

Tim mustered a weak – C-c’mon, fuck me as he was penetrated from behind. The leading role didn’t seem to notice but continued to do his job. The cameraman sidled to get a view of Tim’s face in pleasure only to get a less-than-erotic grimace. Tim’s teeth clenched as he tried to just keep his mind on the paycheck he would receive. Every time still felt like it was unending, the pain that shot through him with each thrust and the shame that never wavered. He was as firmly entrenched within the superstructure of the socius as he had ever been and now it was further alienating him from his labor and lifestyle itself. Continue reading