Broadcast Channel You

Butt moss slips, actually algae, he called you, Elma
Chai teenagers rendezvous on the Bosphorous
My waist expands, my waste a frothy head of spun sucre, sugar of fire,
The gates in Asia keep us out, but the security cameras keep us in
Cat count keeps rising...

Filthy viewfinder clouds finding giant television
It shows us media is Sultan across the Bosphorous
It would swallow us whole
While the giant eye watches while being watched
Heathens drown...

In delight, Turkish Delight
The Lira is not real, it is SUE|like| water
We do not drink as much as we should
Navigating the call to prayer...

My hair as soft as candy that we pop like pills,
Turkish Sheiks are we, shabby Americans underneath

Tesekkür ederim, teasugar eredem, tea sugar airy demI fed a lamb, I fed a pyro

OK – A Roast for K. W. , first you cut up some carrots, and toss that into a pan with melted butter…ha ha, I’ll be here all night, try the veal, or the roast… ha ha.

But seriously, when K. W. told me she was going to have a roast for her birthday, I knew this was the only chance I would get to give it to her. No offense J.P.
I first met K. W. at band practice for the often seen, but seldom heard band Strega.
You all know Strega, you all know the hits, and if you don’t, then you are not really one of Kyona’s friends now are you? Or maybe your better friends with K. W. than the rest of us.

But back in 85, when Stephen asked me to join, he said the band would be prolific, that they would put out, a lot, and after seeing K. W. in one of her “classy” outfits, I didn’t think he was talking about music. And after hearing her play, I knew he wasn’t talking about music.

So of course, I joined the band, to complete the rhythm section. (hint)
Well after a few days I realized I was just another link, on a chain of fools, anchoring a ship of fools on the dock where the fools congregated.
K. W. just dresses like an 80”s Slut.

Was I dissuaded in my crush when I found out that K. W. was a lawyer? No I was not. Was I dissuaded when I found out K. W. was a real estate lawyer? Yes, yes I was…
It was time to move on, that was two years ago. My name is James Bell and I haven’t played a Strega show in over three months. Every day is a struggle not to pick up the sticks and get behind Kyona, I mean Strega. But I give myself to my higher power.

Of course, it has been a struggle to quit. There were some low points, where I have fallen off the wagon and participated in such fiasco, such as the November 2007 Freddie’s show where Dave (Johns) was thrown out for demanding that Strega retake the stage to play Kyona's favorite song, “Josie” one more time, Josie is of course a song about an 80's slut. Thanks Dave. Good Times.

There was another time in December where Strega played a genre smashing set with supporting act “N.F.L” – which I believe stood for Niggaz For Life. Way to put it out there Stephen. Good choice.

But even before that show, I realized that Strega was like the curse in the movie, the Ring. That the only way I would free myself was to find someone to take my place. Some poor fool, no offence J.P., that could live within the passive vampirism and delusional fantasy required to sustain the true leader of the band. Kyona.
K. W. you say? Yes Kyona, She is like the chocolate Katherine Denueve in The Hunger, where you are OLD David Bowie, continually being put in the sarcophagus. Except I am pretty sure Kahterine Denueve is not a slob.
So how to escape?

Enter J.P. – Let me give you a run-down of J.P. – 5’8”, Ginger hair and pale freckled complexion, Aren’t you left handed? He is Australian, of criminal stock, and an information architect. Which is how I met him in the first place, back then a lot of immigrant labor was imported to help inflate the dot com bubble. Which explains how he got into the country.

Now flash forward to the year 2008. We watched the Advantage I believe, A chance meeting at a boring yet intellectually valid rock show. Yes, I said to myself, he would fit the bill. I had found my stooge.

Now, most criminals are not known for their honesty, so I was not shocked when I learned at the first practice that J.P.’s many claims of rustiness were B.S. J.P. had been in fact been a professional percussionist for over four years in Australia’s version of a touring national orchestra before he escaped to America.
I am sure it was this kind of duplicitous, which means suspicious, not redundant, behavior that attracted Ms. Watts. I must admit I too, found his perididdles and triplets quite beguiling.

I am sure you all know how this has turned out, there they are together, enjoying each other... I am now 100% Strega free, and J.P. is now completing the rhythm section of Strega, he is in fact, in the immortal words of Grace Jones, a slave to the rhythm.
And why do we give K. W. this power? Why do we so baldly support the master/slave dialectic that K. W. brings to the fore with each interaction? Could it be the power of her smile, her charming ineptitude at punctuality?
Or is it the guilt I feel because of the wads of cash I have stolen from her purse. And by purse I don't mean her vagina, her v j is like South Dakota, never been there. More than likely it is the mystery, the total ambiguity, in her eyes, when she is three sheets to the wind and high on cocaine. Or maybe it is just because she is from Detroit.

Who knows, but it reminds me of the story of the butcher who worked hard and became a success. When solvent he entered his favorite mule into the Kentucky Derby. When asked why he paid the steep price to enter a mule into a race that had no chance of winning, he said, he knew his mule would not win, but he wanted it to be improved by the association, so let’s all toast the Chocolate Katherine Denueve. K. W. , who has improved us all by association.