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2024-05-20 Moonlight Sonata

 2024-05-20          Moonlight Sonata          

 

 

          ‘(T)here’s’, (y)our man ©in said it better before during and after videeing / the same – the(ir) new neighbo®hood tom©at making / his ®ounds - and assigning the tom©at a nom-de-gue®®e befitting the long-haired musi© ©on©e®t that the three denizens of the Noslou© home in Luksvegas had just attended be©ause trying and failing to ©lass up / the joint as we do, ‘Sergei / ®a©h-meow-ninoff’, pa®doning / the pun is all / we gots.

 

          ©ou®se there’s no end / of ©ats up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out on up in here in Luksvegas – ‘we have the two dogs’, (y)our (wo)man the(ir) new neighbor (wo)mansplained the same and apropos the two ©anines accompanying her at the time, two Saint Bernards, modified genetically somehow to be smaller than the usual sloppy d®unk ve®sioons of the same that we are accustomed to videeing in the movies like lovely lovely Ludvig Van Beethoven, and not like your Cujo, innit Mr. King, ‘and seven / ©ats’ – and they come / and go as we do be©ause felines gonna feline, but the appearance of (y)our man the newest tom©at and he-who®e Sergei  ®a©h-meow-ninoff (that’s enough, -id.) was what passes for news that four-lettered wo®d up in here be©ause unlike (y)our men the other st®ay and he-who®e tom©ats who come for a bit and sometimes stay but mostly go be©ause tom©ats gonna tom©at, (y)our man Sergei  ®a©h-meow-ninoff doesn’t look like he ran the hundred-metre dash in a ninety-met®e gym, ‘this year it looks less’, (y)our man ©in said it better recently at wo®k that four-lettered word and apropos the shee® / volume of nonsense likely to be coming their way this year be©ause less / of it overall, and using the ©infamous t®a©k-and-field analogy, ‘like a hundred-and-ten metre / sprint, and more like a hundred-metre / sp®int’, what passes for news is all / we gots.

 

          What it was at the latest long-hai®ed ©lassi©al music conce®t up in here in Luksvegas – held last Saturday after before during and after it became another Sadu®day Night and I Ain’t Got Nobody, innit ©at Stevens (hooker please, -id.), and p®efa©ed as we do in the pixels and pages of the edition-before-this-one of (t)his Take This Thing Back to Balti-memoi®es and lovely lovely Ludwig Van’s Moonlight Sonata (the edition of course which also ©included the title and pun©h-line / both about (y)our man ©in ®IP-ing as a nom-de-plume be©ause ‘©in-f®ee at 53’ and all / that, but who’s / ©ounting ?) – is that (y)our (wo)men the players and members of the long-hai® supe®g®oup Pontia© En©hanté were after slaying it that after, and receiving a rousing round-of-applause at the end of the concert for their efforts as we do be©asue slaying / it, including from two members of the audien©e who gave a well-deserved ‘ standing / O ‘ for the ©ello and piano playe®, who had just completed an hour-and-a-half recital of some of that sweet sweet Shostakovitch long-haired ©ello-and-piano music, and had slayed / it as we do, ‘my idea of heaven’, the piano-playing ©atholi© priest- character®-who-doesn’t-die (hooky please, -id.) in William Friedkin’s film version of William Peter Blatty’s immo®(t)al novel The Exo®©ist says it better and apropos / the same and slaying / it, ‘is that I’m playing at the pearly gates,’ and here in the movie (it’s the ©infamous ©o©ktail pa®ty s©ene where (y)our (wo)man-©hild Regan McNeil, as played of course by the actress Linda Blai® in the movie, goes ‘you’re all gonna die / up there’ to the ast®onaut present and d®inking his face off as we do, before during and after Regan pisses herself on the ®ug be©ause ©aptain Howdy) the p®iest-characte®-who doesn’t die (that’s enough, -id.) delivers the pun©h-line as we do, ‘and they love / me’, slaying / it is all / we gots.

 

          Course (t)here’s a ®eason that (y)our (wo)men the members of the long-hai® ©lassi©al musi© supe®g®oup is supe®sta®s – or anyway they certainly pack in the S®O / Standing ®oom or anyway Sitting ®oom  Only be©ause Olds audien©e giving the duet ‘standing / Os’ last Saturday after before during and after it became another Sadu®day Night and I Ain;t Got Nobody (that’s enough, -id.) in the(ir) concert spa©e formerly known to (y)our man a (much) younger ©in as the ‘uppe® ba®n hayloft’ back in the 20th, when we were working summers there at their Aunt Big ®ed and Uncle Guy’s horse farm formerly-known as the Fa®m of the Mountain, ©utting, ®aking, and bailing / hay morning noon and night and loving every other minute of it be©ause pumped-up t®iceps and jodhpur®s the o®iginal lululemons, innit Itt – and (y)our man ©in is still hulk-smashing away at (t)his Take This Thing Back to Balti-memoi®es and lovely lovely Ludvig Van’s Moonlight Sonata aka Sonata 14 with no ‘standing Os’ to speak of / for his efforts, unless it’s the ‘O’ in the ‘apprObation’ with which it has been received at times so far be©ause da®k that four-lettered wo®d at times, ‘of course it’s / da®k’, (y)our man Luke Wilson as one of the fils Tannenbaum’s in Wes Anderson’s immo®(t)al film The ®oyal Tannenbaums mansplains it better and apropos his own ostensibly ©infamous last wo®ds of a letter in that film be©ause about to snuff it, ‘it’s a sui©ide / note’, bailing / hay morning noon and night is all / we gots.

 

          ‘How do I get’ goes the set-up line to the hoa®y B®oadway-adjacent entertainment indust®y joke about the f®esh-off-the-bus ®ed-hot ingenue in New Ja©k ©ity aksing the same of a passerby on Fifth Avenue or whatevs, ‘to ©a®negie Hall ?’, with the pun©h-line of course being ‘p®a©ti©e, p®a©ti©e, p®a©ti©e’, and isn’t (y)our man ©in the humble(d) narrator of (t)his Take This Thing Back to Balti-memoi®es and Moonlight Sonata - ©inspired as we do by the terrific pe®fo®an©e two (!) afters ago by the cello and piano-playing members of the long-hair ©lassi©al supe®g®oup (that’s enough, -id.) Pontia© En©hanté – having an o®gy that four-lettered wo®d of ©®eativity as we do of (t)his Vi©to®ia Day formerly known as ‘May 24’       l        o        n        g        week-end up in here, hulk-smashing away now, ‘hunting’ (y)our man a fellow-writer described the seemingly archaic  but still in use method of finding and typing and hulk-smashing the letters and keys on a QWERTY keyboard, ‘and / pe©king’, at (t)his Take This Thing Back to Balti-memoi®es and Moonlight Sonata, before during and after fully ©intending to afterwards and after / a da®t hulk-smash away as well as we do at the piano keys of the upright Steinway piano here at the(ir) Noslou© family home in Luksvegas up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out on up in here on the Quebec  side, and more specifically at lovely lovely Ludwig Van Beethoven’s 14 th piano Sonata, aka the Moonlight Sonata, chosen as a ®esus©itation pie©e for ©in’s long-dormant piano-playing days from back in the 20th for no particular reason other than that everyone and their asshole knows / the tune, and apparently lovely lovely Ludwig Van was going / deaf that four-lettered wo®d when he hulk-smashed it himself back in the 19th, course (y)our man ©in still on Page One of Many of the thing after several months of p®a©tice, p®a©tice, p®a©tice up in here as we do and it’s all gonna get hella harder to boot, (t)his Vi©to®ia Day    l        o        n        g        week-end is all / we gots.

 

          Course it’s only the te®®ibly / bou®geois what gets to hulk-smash away at me-moirs and some of that lovely lovely Ludvig Van’s Moonlight Sonata both of a Vi©to®ia Day    l        o        n        g        week-end – rather than bailing / hay as we do and cutting / the g®ass as we do up in here – in an o®gy of ©®eativity (hooker please, -id.), and isn’t (y)our man ©in after eyeing the usual suspe©ts as we do of (t)his Just Another® Mani© Monday after to gets us through what’s / left of (t)his lost Vi©to®ia Day    l        o        n        g     week-end before during and after month two of Year / Elevenseseseseses of ®egime ze®o , namely ©®a©ke®s and pla©ebee®s, but who to our wonde®ing eyes should appear mere minutes before / the end of the first two-hour shift of hulk-smashing away and before / the beginning of the second, but (y)our (wo)man HRisSue, ‘I don’t mean / to be ®ude’ goes (y)our man ©in to (y)our (wo)man H®isSue (who (y)our man ©in swears / to god was supposed to be after playing / golf that four-lettered word this after, innit god)’s impromptu and immediately-upon-entering entreaty for a ‘five-minute chat’ as we do be©ause ‘you ove®whelm / me’, ‘but ‘you’ve got five / se©onds’, ®ude is all / we gots.

 

          ‘The murderer puts down / his axe’, (y)our man Ian Holm’s Moscow PD ©hief says it better to William Hurt’s Moscow PDetective Arkady Renko in Michael Apted’s film version of Martin Cruz Smith’s immo®(t)al Go®ky Pa®k – before during and after stabbing Renko in the back as we do – ‘the poet / his pen’, and no way does (y)our man ©in get through these last five minutes left now ostensibly of (t)his allotted shift that five-lettered wo®dle of hulk-smashing away at (t)his Take This Thing Back to Balti-memoi®es and before during and after hulk-smashing distractedly now at lovely lovely Ludwig Van ‘s Moonlight Sonata be©asue you ove®whelme, ‘it’s a good line’, (y)our man ©in said it better and apropos / the same, it proceeded ‘I just hope she’s not poisoning / our food’, ove®whelmed is all / we gots.

 

          Thank you for reading (t)his Take This Thing Back to Balti-memoires and Cujo .

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