You're a Sweater Waiting to Happen

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Kronkaphone is an important part of my mental health routine.
E.g., when I see my shrink, he always says, "well, I agree that life sucks. But are you listening to Kronkaphone?
I say, Well I did, but he got tired, and he went fishing, or started selling vacuum cleaners, or fell in love, or became a jazz drummer, or converted to some religious sect, or something."
My shrink said, "well, as soon as Kronkaphone fires back up, get in the groove. Otherwise, I will cut off your medications. If you know what I mean."
Oh jesus holy christ.
My shrink is George Clinton. And he worships vincent van gogh, sylvia plath, Leslie Scalapino, charles bernstein, kurt cobain, anne sexton, and bruce andrews.
The medications he prescribes depend entirely on my literary tastes, not anything as archaic as DSM.
Most of what my shrink shares with me is based on his knowledge of the above, plus a dash of john cage, gertrude stein, marcel duchamp, ani difranco, and alanis morissette.
So I said: yes sir.
And so, mr. kronkofone, with your self-reconstruction, like Lazarus without the help of any divine agency, and without the help of bill gates's publicity machine, you have saved my career and kept me out of the local institution.
I listen to your audio art always, but especially, whenever I eat a thick omelette made of eggs, ham, zucchini, mushrooms, green peppers, white wine, olive oil, fresh roma tomatoes, and fresh basil.
if you will excuse me I have been asked to jump out of an airplane.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/paulbaker/sets/72157600854026325/

paul baker
channeling walt whitman
channeling john milton
channeling Job



Copyright 2007 Kurt Kroncke