by Travis Mateer
Not many people understand the various levels I’m attempting to operate on, and that’s ok, because not everyone is handling magickal trash with the kind of unique properties I seem to be handling in my quest to be a UNITER of the Trash Tribes before Zoom Town becomes DOOM Town.
The handbill is at the printer and the poem is waiting in tiny print for YOU to read and decipher. Can you do it? Can you help our fair city officials decode the clues so a dumpster can be placed, thus providing an appropriate receptacle for me to place the trash I’ll be conjuring into bags?
If not, alas, the bags will be placed in a VERY visible pile, perhaps in a manner that utilizes my skillset of artistic trash arrangement, like my replacement, who I took to campus the other day to suddenly face the distinct possibility that our future will be retarded.
Since I couldn’t operate my mouth as intended on campus, I operated my camera for some photo-ops instead. Here’s Travis two-point-oh looking very small beneath the looming JOURNALISM building, where the Kaimin kids have been offered another chance to report on my awesomeness (it didn’t work out last spring).
Do the Kaimin kids watch Wednesday City Council meeting, like the Committee of the Whole? If not, maybe they’ll watch me clip myself giving Council my WHOLE allotment of morning fucks in the most delightful of ways, and that’s through the calming effect of Virgil and my increasing tool-set, which now includes a small stick to accompany my LOUD walking around town.
Yes, the committee of the WHOLE has now heard all about the opportunity to be proactive I’m providing. All they have to do is read my poem, figure out the clues, and place a dumpster at the location I’m hinting at BEFORE I do my dumping. And, as anyone who knows me can attest, I’m a prolific dumper!
No one but Virgil knows the location of my impending deposit. Does that mean my surveillance fan club is in the dark? I don’t know, the attention I assume is ubiquitous got extra cute the other night when the phone of a woman I was meeting with called me from her purse. Isn’t that adorable?
When you add the possibility of text replies I’ve received that she told me later she didn’t actually send, well, two letters come to mind I’m not particularly interested in pairing together right now, but I suspect a few discerning readers know what I’m talking about.
Tomorrow, I’m going to write about two people currently in Missoula lock-up and it should be pretty interesting. Does my surveillance fan-club already know who I’m talking about already? If they see what I see in my stats, then they see a little bump of interest in Jed’s stand-off with the Mineral County Sheriff’s Office.
Stay tuned, the week’s not over yet!
And thanks for reading!
