Copyright & Permission to Reproduce
This is What it is To Live
written by Chris Auten, Magda Borgarelli, Barbara Korten, & Paul Knackendoffel
diirected by Chris Gregory & Elizabeth Uthoff
under the influence of Gertrude Stein
What a cute idea
What a cute idea to stop for booze
For booze but not for drinks
Not for drinks because shouting snow is your only beverage
And plenty of it
What a cute idea
My sadness is for reasons undetermined
Yet to determine
Sadness saddens everyone
Most will die
Not all but most
I’m also probably on a boat
Dear me
A female a male
either neither
Confusion
Possible Rain
slippery. Smells like damp. I love my cousin tenderly. Sloosh. Splash. Also cold. A cottage with a hovel by the side. Shelter, sheltered and sheltered. But not too thoroughly comfortable. Stop. A monster just walked in. Questions, questions. Would you like me to change the question. The sky is blue. The ground is blue. The wind it blew into my face. Ice. Ice. Ice. Sheeting snow is your only beverage. We will not stop for drinks. Great god
Machines whirling
Searching sailing searching
Perhaps shells
Poor mix
Perhaps shells whirl
I hear a sound
Dear De Lacy
Not knowing where to step is dangerous
#3 aint happenin
Sleep deprivation
The warm is nice. And nice is good. Comfortable in its own comfort ability. What’s not as precious is the look in her eyes. Or else we might as well just spit on you now. O Darkest most vile happening. Orlando furioso. More wasted skin.
Mirror like deformity
Darkness and secrecy. I bet they’ll never catch me. Slow it down. Speed it up. Linoleum of black and white. With all its might. Might not make it through the night. Disquieted shadow. Lost in darkness and distance. Lamenting.
knot in my stomach
if only I could reach it
ice.
Try again
Maybe berries
What makes a berry
Would you like me to change the question
What makes a man
Berries
Cold indeed.
Music I wonder what’s for dinner
Food. Fish scales. A little less hungry. But not towers. trees. Dogs. Many of those. Perhaps graveyard snow. And my sister. And my Arabic Bride. I’m married now. How about me. May I come in. No you may not. Don’t ask me. Ice will dull the pain. Unless it’s frostbite, but then you should have ordered soup. Don’t speak to the dogs, they only bark. So if they bark, we lose that time like the time we ran out of time. And therefore time was lost. One more or are we done for the day.
A female. A male. A male.
Family of delicate graceful fragile humans. The old male is visibly blind. Avert your eyes. Not very fleshy. They seem so happy. Lightning
bottles and glasses
what is that
test tubes are always recyclable
like the skin or not
not good enough
right
where to
what
where to take the skin
the cemetery because its’ a cool place to be
with the coffins
and dead bodies
stop
dinner is ready
I like to think I’m an interesting person. Let me get messes up. Do just wont do. Unless you’re a critic. Which is precisely why I threw my watch out. Early or late. I don’t want to go back. And I don’t want to cook. Never what I want is a want worth worthing which is. Something.
Pronounce the word you heard of course not
You see. Of course not
Wet Wood
A returnable place. Possible rain. Don’t be ridiculous, it’s not a breeze, it’s the wind. Bubbles. Bubbles. Yes. Bubbles. Not wanted. Not ever wanted. Never. Silly circumstances. But then you should have ordered soup. Exasperation. You are disgusting. I don’t care. Farewell.
Lovely creatures your distraction is silly
Now its all gone I don’t want to go back. Don’t be ridiculous. Squat man I will tremble. Loathing and corruption. Corruption of the human body. Not a human body. Trampling must be a god like science. Brutality. Future guilded by the barbarity of man confide in me the strangled truth. Mistreatment is tumultuous. What is that. Insanity. Born by my creator. What is that. Neither life nor consciousness.
dear you
I yawn yawn yes no no no yes no yes no
Okay maybe
This is just awful when your favorite dies
a shred of dignity or perhaps not
a shred of relief perhaps not
a shred perhaps
dear skin
a rational human affair of possible boats wasted
Dear curiosity is it cold
If only I could reach leaves burning
And my Arabic bride
Squat man
Dear monster
Everybody dies unless they are on the boat
I was the ass and the lap dog
Cold and tiered empty shells
Not good enough to sew sew sew machines whirling
clink clanks
Sculls floating
Sculls floating on a cold breeze
There is so much dirt
And bottles of grass
And bright liquids
Try again
On one hand death teases
On the other hand
I do not like oregano
This is in Braille
Perhaps you have eight hands
Write me
Speak of the devil
Shrink grow Crash the side and thrust it up
Bleak crash
In your mind Through your body
Perhaps a third The fourth is north
Cant lose time when you don’t keep track of it
Sense Scary Sense A sound
Avert your eyes or see the ice
Make a house A house a home place to do the things you learn
What I want a want worth wanting
This is what it is to live
