Just Another Orgone Accumulating Scum Bag

by Reverend Matthew Mascelli

Drunk and in love I was bumming around Vermont and this little tiny mouse died. We built a funeral pyre out of sticks and flowers and pictures of the Virgin Mary. Out of my mind from too much amphetamine and liquor from Guatemala. My friend convinced me to set his hair on fire, the vibrating living planet shaking my teeth. So when the sun was coming up five of us and three bikes road down to the water, my friend holding up the mouse to Odin, screaming and laughing. Two people on one bike too drunk and fast got into a terrible crash and had to go the hospital. We were terrorized by these drunk security guards on golf carts who would steal our bikes every time we weren’t looking. We poured Parmesan cheese on the mouse corpse and lit him on fire sending him out onto lake Champlain, sending him to Valhalla. And the gods wept and the energy seeped out of that mouse and was distributed into the world again and the gamma ray implosions came to take us home. Something meaningless and nonsensical is always better, I heard the howling of werewolves in the pipes of our forefathers

Broken arms feel like I don’t have any bones sometimes in this lazy heat rain haze. The street in front of the house flooded the other day and people were riding kayaks right in front of the stoop. I can’t tell you if I have been dreaming or living the last couple years or what the difference is. In front of our stoop, at least fifteen! Screaming drunks, evangelical Baptists, paranoid Vietnam vets. I get so perpetually drunk and dreaming and smoking hazy cloud of living on the back porch of the farmhouse little kid hitting the drums sounds so brutal like the banging deerskin drums of a sacrifice to a Norse god. When it’s 6 am looking out of the tent to see musicians emerging out of their circus tents and practicing banjo and upright bass. I’m learning to play the mandolin.

Back in the apartment, gone before nine o’ clock and of course there will be times when I wake up and notice that you have pissed the bed and that I was the one soaking it up all night but you cannot let things like this deter you on your mission. Folding green lily pad looking leaves might as well be some tough skin fruit cut open and spilling out bloody blue seeds like a waterfall of toxic waste. Why not then? If you can find any old bridges with graffiti and a generation of sad bums in horror at the universe next to the same dripping glowing words, same exact teenager as I was? Radio keep blasting and all the microwaves sent through me every day. I don’t know who I am or how I got here. In halfasleep paranoia hearing all the rain pouring down I see the gods on top of mount Olympus and the insides of my eyeballs. Body next to body, aching to get free. Laying in that grass you kept looking over at me, O I have lost so much DNA in public places. I got horribly lost in Montréal and everything was in French and nobody drove cars, talking to some bum nicest guy I ever met, my new fucking hero. He’d say in broken English:

“LED ZEPPELIN NEW HOP NEW JERSAY 1978 MONTREAL BOYS DO CASINO”

My body never been underwater, just sometimes it’s coming in through the trees. I’ll wash your clothes middle of the night hand me a glass of vodka most handsome man I ever known and the bums outside rusting through the recycling and the vibrating red glare.

You know what it is? Sometimes my body just feels like it’s moving 100 miles an hour when I sit still. The atmosphere are time are rushing by me so fucking fast. I get dizzy and realize the earth is turning and I have to eventually go someplace leaving behind all this beauty, these people, this youth adrenalin ignorant bliss. Where does it all go? Tonight my head is too full and I have seen to many beautiful and horrifying things.

I spent all my money on acid and had to work in a suit factory somewhere in bumble fuck. I see three generations, grandmother mother daughter, all working the same miserable jobs, locked into place. More victims of circumstance than anything else, this system does not work so I guess I’ll just sleep in a tent. My friend was on the back porch of the farmhouse when a two by four hit him directly on the head. Dazed and dirty in a gigantic sweater, looking like James Dean and Bob Dylan all at once, and his slutty drunken roommate being way too honest for her own good. He just shrugged it off, he stands there eternally playing sternum shattering blues guitar, howling swaggering mythical rock star asshole.

Hiding out in some abandoned hotel, smoking a blunt in a convent, throwing your self off a rock into infinity. Swimming in the middle of with a kid whose mom was dying of cancer. He had a greaser haircut and was disappointed that nobody realized that this was the only time they were going to get this summer. Swam out to some rusty shack floating in the water, everything glowing. The moon was so hollow and the echoing vastness and the blue and I forgot I was a person.

And the whole reason I was in this city was because I walked under a bride at the exact right moment two years ago. Because I was in love and drunk and waking up every morning in the colossus of his handshake. Because we were sodomites we are filthy and will sweat eternally. Squalor held me tighter than any succubus ever did, orgone accumulating scum bags loving each other so violently. The only reason I write any of it down is so I won’t forget.

Where was I? Only a year I was in love so drunk all the time, punching smiling spitting on my friends in some rock n roll basement. My friend’s guitar noises setting me free, the heat was overbearing and suffocating and I loved every second of it. Epiphanies in the wine drunk abandoned factories, me and my degenerate friends. I could feel electricity surging through me and it was the same force animating every other living thing. And I would suck his cock in some public place, taste of cigarettes and danger on his mouth. He knew the name of every tree and about the mysterious gravitational field troubling modern scientists.

I would look up while laying on that picnic table in the middle of the woods and see the treetops and the heavens. We were crushed by the force of the sky and the earth fucking. I just didn’t care, covered in dirt with blue tribal paint dripping down our faces, I felt the earth move and I believed in something. Heat lighting shaking the sky, forgetting is so hard.

Nothing really changes for the void but I am not the void I am a human animal. Whatever ends or begins. Whatever ray of sunlight comes through the tree branches. I feel in love with the universe and now I have to suffer the consequences.