Chastinicity: Chastity Belt is -Literally- the Band of My Dreams

More mental* meanderings about the world’s greatest band…

Central Time.
Quittin’ time,
Homeward bound,
Take me home…
Insane traffic road.

“Panic in Detroit”,
Over the
FM Frequency
Radio Stream.

I’ve heard Protomartyr,
Satan’s Daughter,
Harry Potter,
And Ms. Gudmundsdottir;

James Dean,
Polly Jean,
The Clean,
And Queen.

Not to mention,
Some band called Fluoxetine.

Licking lithium,
From her lips,
A Vaseline banshee,
Sets sail her ships.

Gone insane,
Oh how it must be,
She murdered,
So gruesome,
Our saintly Thane!

16 year-old car,
Heads North,
On the Boulevard,
South Lamar.

She did glow,
Third and final President,
Of the Republic,
Ya know.

Chazzy’s “Time to Go Home”,
Surfaces from digital mescaline,
Flooding my cortex with a…
Million hits of dopamine.

There we were…
I pull up to the red light..
At the intersection of Ben White,
Sitting in silence…
Looking to my left,
But not to my right.

I see the car,
The car next to me,
I see the bumper,
I see the sticker.  

Holy shit to be!!!

It jumps out,
Strangles me,
Hits me with force,
Cosmos mystery;

Dimensional divorce,
Stephen Hawking,
Gone home,
To restore the prophecy,

While Carl Sagan,
Cosmological gnome,
Writes future history,
In his supernova home. 

I just sit there,
Rock on Chastity..
Praise God for felicity…
The sorrow,
The pity.

Whitman College.

It cries.

Walla Walla, Wa.

Holy Bunuel!
How charming,
The discreet,

The birthplace of the exquisite quartet,
Haunting my dreams,
Another strange vignette;
Unconscious quagmire,
Door of sunken memes,
Smash the amplifier
Burst at the seams. 

Dream after dream,
Asleep and waking,
You’re never what you seem,
While your brain is baking;
From our pathological paradigm,
The market’s nursery rhyme.

I somehow arrive,
I find,
I’m still alive,
I’m still ill,
Checking email,
Songkick flashes,
Announces the bill;
Chastity Belt coming to town,
Sometime in April….

I want to call my therapist,
But realize,
There are no answers,
Truth lives in disguise,
You are not alone,
Close your eyes.

Chastity Belt won’t leave me alone..
And I,
As often as I can,
With much alacrity…
Return the favor.

“Remember me?!?!!
“Remember me?!?!!”

“Of course,” Ms. Shapiro politely responds,
Leaving out, “…How the fuck could I forget?”
But I digress…
For this diatribe,
Does not exist,
On a worldly plane,
But through the looking glass,
A game of chess.

Chastity Belt,
My dreams…

…at parties..
Fueling fixation.

Hunting deer,
Deadly shots…
Ungulate annihilation.  


“This pond,” Ms. Truscott notes;
Though it is more a gigantic mountain lake,
Of the Glacier National Park variety;
“Is more than 900 feet deep.”

We caught nothing,
But maybe some zzzzzs.

Lines disappear into the water,
They are still,
But for the occasional breeze.

We pondered the depths,
Gazing into evergreens swaddling,
The surrounding mountains.

I sneeze,
Before I begin
To freeze…

As day fades,
A blanket of fog,
Rolls in….
Over the water…

How did I get to this cabin in the woods?

Or this Seattle party…??
Decrepit backyard,
Rotting fences,
Rusting bicycles,
An axe,
Three shovels,
Plunged into the ground.

The freezing mist,
Stinging my face.


Ms. Shapiro is,
More than a dozen courtiers,
Hanging on her every word.

Ms. Lund alone,
In the corner,
Reads a book,
By Rebecca Solnit,
Occasionally looking up to stare,
Into space,
Into the future,
Into time itself.

Into the pit.

Upstairs, Ms. Grimm scrawls,
Mysterious equations on,
Ms. Truscott,
Dances Francis Ha,
While she,
Juggles basketballs.

Dreams recurring,
Zen Arcade,

Variables seeking values.


No answers coming.

Accept this quagmire.

No time for misery.

You are not alone.

Everyone has their,
Archetypal shakedown.
Everyone is a verb,
Not a noun,
The Cities,
Of Emerald,
And Violet Crown,
Merge worlds apart,
Become the same town.

The fan of Megadeath,
Fell for Lady MacBeth,
Out! Damn spot! she cries,
When he spoke the truth,
She countered with lies,
Here comes the detective,
Here comes the sleuth,
Sucking on yet another,
Motherfucking Baby Ruth.

All hail Duncan!
All hail McDuff!
This town so drunken,
With villains so tough.

A shotgun goes off,
The clear boom of doom,
He screams to Dylan,
Get ye to the Green Room!
Blood and brain,
In a home on the lake.
This wasn’t suicide,
It was a fake.

Dylan knew the times were a’changing;
He fell to Earth and soared through space,
A best friend lost is hard to replace,
A motherfucking tragedy he had to face.

Like a rolling stone,
Son of Carl,
The ties that ensnarl,

Release from,
The case;
Release from the spastic,
Lost in embrace.

From here, I hear the sound of the Sound,
So far away,
Just another toad,
Flattened on the Yellow Brick Road.

I’ll buy you another round,
Won’t you stay???
Stay here?
Near this hallowed ground?
I can tell the Wizard is very near.

Puppies will make us sleep.

But this is not the Emerald City,
There is no horse of a different color,
Puppies, puppies everywhere,
Multiplying squalor.

30, 40, maybe more,
Jumping, yipping,
Poop and pee,
All over the floor.

How do I rid these pests,
These terrible beasts?
Dinner guests,
So soon to arrive,
This day of feasts.

Ding! Dong!

The middle of the day.

It’s Chastity Belt,
No!! No!
They say.

Let the puppies stay!
Please keep them here,
Don’t put them out,
Please let them play!

So there are puppies,
Puppies divine,
Rolling in beer, 

Rolling in wine.

Rolling like deer,
In Chateau d’Or,
In poop and pee,
All over the floor.

The wicked witch is overwhelmed.

I see her through the window,
Tweaking on meth,
Flying on a broom,
Passing high,
An angel of death.

“I’ll get you Chastity Belt,”
She growls,
And those little dogs, too!”
Puppies bark,  burst with howls.

I wake up.

It’s not Kansas;
It’s Texas,
The Sound, sound on Sound, the Lake, the parties,
The ponds, the green room,
The hunting, fishing,
The Holes in the Earth,
Lie in beds anew, for,
The rabbit, the snail,
The lost boyfriend of Lady Vail,
The puppies, Lady MacBeth,
Faking one’s death,
Murder/Suicide and all that,
Witches high on meth and baby’s breath,
They are dreams big and fat,
There’s no place like home,
With a big welcome mat,
And it’s time to go…
Time to go….

They say isolation,
Chills to the bone,
But in the,
Collective unconscious,
We are not alone.

*Most likely in the British sense of “Mental”.



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