DFA Writes

September 10, 2007

May 92, 19–
Dissatisfied with my new police uniform, I spat and with an index finger spread my fluids across our new deputy’s face. The old one needing a new title, I searched for my masking tape and found it dangling from the tail of a newly mummified watch dog. I carefully amputated a piece and, on the side that stuck to my fingers, wrote a name which was then fitted on the chest of my old acquaintance; and because you never know with masking tape, I pushed two tacks on either end- just in case.
He was in no position to carry his own weight so I assisted him to the busy desk and because his poor head dangled disagreeably, I kindly pushed his business chair back, re-found my masking tape, and religiously applied it to the wall and his head. I had acquired a nail gun through another acquaintance and since had been in the habit of carrying it in a borrowed tool belt. Reminding myself again of the unreliability of masking tape, I retrieved the nail gun and pushed four or five through the tape or through his ears and to the wall.
I thought we had met in a narrow place that stretches for miles. Along the sides of my walls I have placed several thousand wooden beds. I have known the place to be very loud with the echo of wood brushing wood, beds creaking with the weight of the several thousand bodies which they have collected. I have known it to be very full of the sounds of bodies and splitting wood.
Upon entering his office, which he very recently gave to me, I asked if he remembered who I was. Of course, we were just acquaintances so I didn’t expect he would; he didn’t. I described the place. I have always been under the impression that it is quite an unforgettable place; he forgot. I forgave him and asked if he would like to go back. He assured me that he had no desire to return there. I assured him he would change his mind.
Stepping back, I was satisfied that my acquaintance was comfortable and proceeded again with the question I had initially asked of him. He raised no objections.
Removing an obstruction with my sleeve, I reexamined my reflection. On masking tape I assigned myself the position my new friend had allowed me to secure: Deputy.
I walked over to a window in the room and looked out into an alley. Spotting another acquaintance, I asked my friend if I might quickly borrow his bullet gun. I could see by the way his hand was rested upon his knee that it would be a fine thing for me to borrow the gun. Shoving the glass open, I shouted to the fellow below that I knew him from somewhere, that I would see him soon, and shot him in the head.
February 72,19–
The man who offered his companionship startled me. He insisted we were to be unattended and I was left unbound. He was trying to unwind my soul and I was suspicious but it wasn’t until I participated my view with his fingertips that their uneven lineage provided proof that he was indeed the Devil. I extended my own parts as though accepting his contract. His wrist through his smile was victorious. I left a space between his fist and his throat enough to ensure the beating of his heart.