a repetitious paean to the new Snickers

My recent journey in song: The song totters patchily to a modest momentum. Establishes movement for a fleeting middling few and the band disappears. Four measures of nothing. Four more: Nothing (x4). The drums return four bars on their own and things begin to build back a smidge, but over too long, over like 64 or 128 bars. The bassist sucks and steps all over the drums. The keyboardist is in his head. At bar 71 all goes quiet again. The track continues for days in absolute silence. To prevent distractions, the song is constructed so that any ancillary noise of substance in the listener's room will through phase cancellation be rendered fully silent. All but the most patient listeners break off and leave the room before lack of water or food or sleep deprivation do them in. That skeleton with the headphones is my goddamned best friend. -- My recent journey in epistolary form: To whom it may concern, I am wr -- My recent journey in painting form: Not an empty or abruptly-severed canvas: A canvas depicting a rotund man eating a bunch of some new kind of Snickers. He is so prodigious in his consumption of same that it forms a kind of impeccable camouflage. To the casual observer it is simply a repetitious paean to the new Snickers. To those wise to the ways of this writer, it is a man consciously drowning himself in the new Snickers. -- My not dying of COVID-19 gratitude list, take one: Nothing. -- My recent journey in movie form: John Wick 8 in which he has a total change of heart and swears that he will never hurt another human being. This time he means it. Knowing that he will be tempted by some soon moment to return to form, he exiles himself fully to Antarctica. He builds snowmen spanning a four mile radius, in a variety of peace-loving and joyous postures. As the film nears its conclusion, a penguin accidentally knocks one of the snowmen over. All is nearly lost, but self control wins the day. Roll credits over John Wick and the same penguin sharing Smores in the fading Antarctic light. -- Gratitude list, take two: The new Snickers. And the people I call home. And not dying.