BANANA
YOU!
(Daemon Mishka, Volume II)
—by Mishka Zakharin
WARNING:
This book is the second volume of Mishka Zakharin’s ‘Daemon Mishka’
series… proceed with caution… tread lightly… read while in a well-lit room and
in the company of others….
But—oh!—perhaps it’s not so bad as all that, I
suppose… I mean, for those who have read Possessed By the Daemon Mishka and
find themselves hungry for more of the Zakharinish wit and wisdom, it certainly
satiates the literary taste-buds… a delicious treat for those who revel in the
fruitful flavorfullness of the written word—full of mouth watering morsels of
puddingish poetics and philosophical figgy-figgy-foo! And as the intoxication of his absurdities abound, you may not
eve notice that occasional (if nagging) intellectual indigestion rising like a
gaseous goiter from your gorge… no matter, just wave it away, and dive back in
for seconds….
Journalish Ramblings / Letters / Poetry / Plays AuthorHouse
Copyright: 2004 ISBN: 1-4140-6751-8
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Excerpts—
12
April 2002.
Random soliloquy:
‘Black! O black is the day! Forsooth… Nay—“forsooth,” hell! I say! (And I mean it, too, just see if I don’t!…) Blah, blah, blah—life is nary but the contrived inconvenience barring bless’d death’s embrace! A stagnation of abhorrencies and slubberdegulliancies and—‘Then—aye, just then, and not later nor sooner, but just right at that moment—then!… hither, thither, and nod!—then… yea, then didst a one wander by who wore my Tatyana’s enchanting perfume!… Then!… Then didst the smoky unreality, the hazy subtruvescence of illicit underpinnings, dissipate all away in the wake of magick and beauty recollected and desire unaffected (and, quite frankly, unasked for… but who is she—but what am I!?…)—then didst I wallow mournfully in the sticky soulful torpor of inillucididitous perceptions… ‘All are punish’d… all is undone… all—and then (then…!) nothing…’
30 April 2002. Trippin’…
I got up about eight, and had breakfast at a roadside café (I believe it was called “K___’s”)—so I suppose that’s neat right there, eating at a café along Route 66… and Margie (or perhaps it was K___ herself…) was the hostess/waitress, with youthful eyes and a youthful tushy—the former sparkling, the latter modestly firm… pert?… sure, I could go with pert… the buttocks of a nubile, sixteen-year-old girl—and eyes as exuberant and full of life as her behind… her voice was all husky—not in a sexy, throaty kind of way, but rough and rugged from the years and years of yelling over the bikers and truckers and regulars and irregulars at the café every day,
and her face was weathered and worn, but shave a decade and a half or so away and she was no doubt quite the hotty little morsel of eye-candy… hell, in a dim room she could probably still be loads of fun so long as she didn’t say anything…. When she escorted me to my table, she asked if I’d like any ketchup… then she giggled girlishly—or, anyway, it would have been a girlish giggle if it hadn’t been so… raspishly mucusful—and she shook her head to clear it, her teeny-boppin’ pony-tail bobbing side to side, and she corrected herself, “I mean coffee!” …But, at any rate, I had breakfast—eggs, bacon, hash-browns, toast, pancakes, and ketchup—no, no, I’m sorry—coffee….
Then I went over to the state park, intending to go horseback riding—but there were no signs or anything giving times or prices or anything… I went for a little walk instead—about a six mile trek through the wilderness… so that was fun… parts were kind of sloppy and wet, but there was always some way to get through (if only just barely, at times…); it made me uneasy having all the skittering around in the undergrowth alongside the path—always wondering what it is scuttling about down there, waiting, priming
to launch itself out at me and bite me in the shin… and, of course, I tried very hard to never think of it as a slithering noise—because that’s all I’d need is for something thoroughly ookey to slither out across the path in front of me… then I could just wet myself, search for air to scream like a sissy and, finding none, die… so I much preferred to think of it as little, tiny monkeys scurrying around down on the forest floor, having fallen from their trees, and casting about for appropriate foliage with which to return to their beloved tree-tops, there to swing and chirp and hoot and holler to their hearts’ content….
Of the wild-life I did see, there was an albatross just taking flight—quite a wonderful sight, and I almost got a picture of it… but then a butterfly pooped on my hand, and, in the distraction of pondering what such a direful and disgusting omen might mean, I missed my chance…. There were two turtles—in my mind they were identical, but who knows… separated by miles of trail, I wondered nonetheless if the one was the other—possibly sprinting ahead cross-country (it being much more familiar with the terrain than I…) to surprise me once more further along in my journey… but who knows—I suppose there very well could have been two turtles… given the uncanny resemblance, perhaps siblings…. There was a beautiful, majestic buck only about thirty or forty feet from me—startled by my approach, it thundered off, crashing through brush and shrubbery and what have you to get away… so, once again, I reacted too slowly, and was unable to take a picture before it disappeared into the wild…. And, of course, everywhere, everywhere, the giant, flying tree-sloths swooped, bellering their sacred love songs—though I was ready for them, camera in hand… and I surely would have captured them on film if it hadn’t been at that very moment that one of those damned tiny, little monkeys leaped up to bite me in the shin!
Nefarious little bastard! Damnidably!… And I knew, surely, such could bode not well, and so did I hasten my journey through the wood ere greater hardships might befall me….
But overall it was a pleasant enough hike. The weather cooperated nicely—it was usually sunny, though it did cloud up for about half an hour or so, and there were occasional raindrops… indeed, at one point the sun was shining brightly overhead as rain dribbled half-heartedly and thunder rumbled in the distance…. More than anything, I couldn’t help thinking of all the history professors I’ve had, and how they would try to express the great hardships the pioneers and early settlers had to endure as they forged their way through the wilderness—but generally, so far as I could tell, as long as you stayed on the path, the worst that might occur is wet feet or some annoying but basically pretty minor bites to the shin….
31 December 2002.
Once more do I find myself
upon the Front Porch of the World—
at the very Doorstep
betwixt Mundane Reality within
and the Infinite Cosmos without…
New Years Eve,
and the Universe laid bare before me…
starlight streaming overhead…
the chill, December air
taking crispy, little bites
of warmth from the flesh
of my hands and face…
Sammy Davis, Jr.
softly heard crooning just inside…
What mysteries shall be revealed
in the year to come?…
Which questions will be answered—
which ones to become moot?…
Where will this Life find me
when yet another year has flown?…
The stars go on silently streaming—
no answers proffered,
not a hint to be gleaned…
Fingers nearly numb,
cigar nearly burnt out,
the last glass of champagne
fizzing away—
my mind buzzes on…
the Future, a blank canvas—
as the night sky above—
upon which I shall endeavor
to paint the gleaming constellations
of my Life…
Sammy’s song has ended—
Dean Martin now provides
the distant backdrop to my musings…
wouldn’t a martini be grand
right about now…?
Yet the champagne
—bubbles silently streaming—
seems somehow more apropos…
and nacquered from the cigar as I am,
perhaps vodka would just be
a bit too much…
but I digress…
The stars glimmering brighter
—as I become fuzzier
and less distinct…
clarity and lucidity of Being
blend with a vagary of feeling…
midnight draws nigh,
as my thoughts freely fly—
where-e’er I am led,
by and by….
13 October 2003.
Monday morning. 7:46 a.m. Sigh~
It’s very chilly this morning. I have deigned, nonetheless, to go pants-less—no doubt the last time this year… even so—chilly willy—Mr. Bo-jangles (i.e. ‘dance’!)—carnivorous sheep eating little, Italian babies—blah—Hob nob.
Oh, my god! Oh, my god! Where are my pants!? WHOSE LEGS ARE THESE?!? —flabbergasted, trusting, obfuscating, unrelenting, unsuspecting—Ah, ha!… Unsuspecting…
Now I’m going to have a
brownie… for dessert, then, I’ll nibble on a full-fledged girlie-girl-scout! Woo!
Woo!~
Someone just asked me, “Have you ever been pierced?” I replied, “Recently?…”
Brownie, brownie, brownie, brownie, brownie—coffee…
“Aye, yea, aye, yea—‘tis true, needs must I confess… hardly Wordsworth…”
“Well, you make a good point—”
“I make a better blunt edge!”
“Undoubtedly… though in mine own defense—brownies and coffee is hardly opium…”
Hobbery-nobbery-doo!~
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Featuring~
Year
of the Noveletter
29 December
2001. (Start of Noveletter 27, to Gilead.)
Free-basing:
January 2002.
Interlude: A
Treatise on Marxist Thought.
February 15,
2002. (A premise for a short film.)
28 March 2002.
(Start of Noveletter 28, to Tatyana.)
6 April 2002.
(Spirituality & physicality.)
8 April 2002.
An Ode to Tainted Ham.
26 April 2002.
(Start of Noveletter 29, to Velika.)
27 April 2002.
Trippin’…
28 April 2002.
Trippin’…
29 April 2002.
Trippin’…
30 April 2002.
Trippin’…
30 May 2002.
Review of ‘Attack of the Clones’.
Summer
of My Discontent
24 June 2002.
(Continuing NL 27, to Gilead.)
Interlude: An
Analysis of Gilead’s Dreams…
20 August
2002. (Start of Noveletter 30, to Tatyana.)
7 September
2002. Day of the Noveletter.
28 September
2002. Trippin’…
29 September
2002. Trippin’…
30 September
2002. Trippin’…
1 October
2002. Trippin’…
2 October
2002. Trippin’
3 October
2002. Trippin’…
4 October
2002. Trippin’…
#9
Dream
Interlude: Ode
to Tatyana II.
Jungle
Dirge
30 July 2003.
Bottom’s Dream.
Interlude:
Ludmila of Tverskaya Street (a play in three acts).
Blah,
Blah, Blah
Interlude: Sex
With Pajamas On.
26 August
2003. Mrs. Nickerson’s Complaint.
7 September
2003. (Start of Noveletter 34½, to Gilead.)
18 September
2003. A Constituent of Hadrons.
Interlude:
Miscellanae.
4 November
2003. A one-act play by Mishka.
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