o c t o b e r  2000 — o c t o b e r  2004




Are you saying what I think you’re saying?

Are you thinking out loud or saying what you’re thinking I’m saying you’re thinking?

Is that a rhetorical question?

See here we do things a little differently?---

Yeah. Um. So I noticed.

Yeah so anyway.

Yeah. So where do you get off anyway?

Next stop. See here we never actually tell you to your face what an idiot you are?

Oh. Well, that’s certainly...considerate of you.

Yes thank you. I know.

So how else do you communicate to me what an idiot I am? What an unaware jackass, if you will?

Well that’s the beauty of it see. Make a left. It’s all in what you don’t say. Juxtaposition? Oblique thrusts under the arm as I reach out ostensibly to shake your hand, or pat you on the head? The knife drives in deeper that way.

Wait this is my favorite song.

But the radio is off. You turned it off twenty miles back remember.

But in a world as meaningless and violent and brutalizing as this? I mean, how can you not expect me to outwardly reflect nothing?

Oblique. This is what I’m talking about? An oblique silence. An oblique unsilence?



An unsilence of oblique proportions. It’s the only way.

Yes yes. It’s the only way. Unsilence. The practicing of carefully honed social unskills.





How can I ever repay you?

Yes, that is the question. We are all in some form of debt aren’t we

Is that a period or a question mark?

Wouldn’t you like to know.

Hold on not so fast I’m trying to get this all down in my antiquated notebook but this pencil lead keeps breaking when I write periods.

Punctuation is for suckers like you.

I thought you wouldn’t ever tell me directly to my face what an idiot I am.

Was that me talking? I thought I was the idiot.

I thought I was.

I thought I was.

I thought I was the.

In any case---what happens if I ever wake up and see the light?

By then it will likely be too late. See---


That was your entrance right there. Can't you read the signs.

No wait. We can turn around.

No just pull over here I’m finished with you.

No. Wait.



Isn’t that what got us in this mess in the first place.

Sometimes a question mark drives deeper than any blade you know.

Yeah so what. Sometimes it’s just another mirror so fuck you and your naive sentimentality. This is where I get off?




o c t o b e r  2000 — o c t o b e r  2004


contact: kualyque • p.o. box 861843 • los angeles, ca 90086 • k u a l y q u e @ s i c k l y s e a s o n . c o m