J. August Buehler, Zet Martin: the animal and the city and flowers

Getting down and into it, I hope to write for some time with no other objective than to entertain, let you know and otherwise dispel the feeling of just sitting here. The coffee’s gone cold, and the plaster snake remains unpainted. The warmth of those around me, Marketa, Crafty, Dave, Penny, Marisa, One, Blue Shoes and Loser Mate, blows in through the open door, curls the papers on the floor, trembles the windows. , How should one cut and paste these lives, and should they be given at all? We went dancing and drank wine. We went for a ride. The walls bend around the room. The tequila is...