gazorbnik

it's as easy as pie but he has no idea how to make a pie but knows how to eat one.
as he sits on the beach of the island in the eye of a storm on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.

as he watches the waves coming in and going out and imagines the machine everyone knows as nancy coming up the beach to sit facing him her back to the sea and rolls a joint.

hey, she says.
hey, he says.
so, she says, what's happening?
gazorbnik, he says.
i wondered what that meant, she says.
it's just a word i made up or stole from somewhere, he says, but if i did i don't remember from where or when.
i suppose that's not important, she says.
not really, he says.
so, she says, what does it mean?
it can mean anything one might want it to mean, he says.
can it be a magick word? she says.
sure, he says, if one wishes it to be one.
i do, she says.
a magick word for what? he says.
for everything, she says.
what about everything? he says.
nothing, she says.
but everything is nothing, he says. all comes from the void where god resides.
god? she says. what god?
the god existing in the void without spacetime or nothing going quite mad laughing and screaming and hallucinating everything in the universe, he says.
and how do you know this? she says.
i made it up, he says, and i imagine hearing this mad god in my head.
you are mad yourself, she says.
i cannot dispute that, he says. that is why i collect checks from the beloved state.
thinking things such as this, she says, i can well imagine so.
it's not important, he says.
and what's the point? she says.
exactly, he says.
gazorbnik, she says.

and they light up cigarettes.
and they watch the waves coming in and going out.

(to be continued...)