spread increasingly thin
My little brother Merle, back when he was little-little, made me a magic
wand, and gave me explicit instructions as to its use. He bought the
core off a kid for a snak-pak and a quarter during one of the Hatch
Elementary Swap Meets, and read books on magic wand construction at the
public library, in the private arcanum in the sub-basement you can only
get to by pressing all the elevator buttons but one. The magic wand is
wrapped in duct-tape with pen scribbles up the sides; sometimes you have
to bang it on the palm end (NOT the business end) to get it to work, and
it never works when your hands are sweaty, or clammy, or cold. Also, you
cannot be thinking of two things when you use it, which is why he gave
it to me, as he hadn’t gone on the medication yet and couldn’t not think
of two (or more) things at the same time, but he said I could use it,
because he said if I really wanted to I could do anything. I still have
it, wrapped in dark green velvet I ripped out of a motel couch, and if I
can get a large enough mirror I might actually use it again.
(12:14.05.19.2005) [/ana] #