TV doesn’t live here anymore // Thomas Stolperer


Note: read this the same way you might read a Tyson Bley poem

There’s more where that came from. Janet, how could you? The car overheated on the freeway – and Roper’s niece?- on the living room couch. I have this friend that owes me a favor. If you need me I’m right out here. Get it on top – I can’t. I’m sure you’ll find your Paradise Towers someday.

Tripper! See, nothing’s going on, just like in our apartment. She had these great..Danes. I’m gonna kill Larry. Uh, Greedy…I mean Gretchen. You Are So Beautiful, that’s my favorite song. OK, it’s gonna be a right cross and it’s coming now. No, Elmo don’t go in there! A dollar for three but this one’s on me. The Duchess! Mr. Furley? – Aunt Becky?! What is a Jack’s Bistro?

Thank you for that wonderful lie. Well I never… -and you probably never will. Oh, I’m sure nobody saw that show – hi Mom, how are things in San Diego? Listen here shorty. Any more noise and you kids are out! I think you should do it – what!? Janet! Honk if you like what you see -hey Larry, honk honk. And Chrissy, try to cut down on the low cut dresses – gee, they’re already cut down about as far as they can go.

JC the boss was a woman, Jack poured the food on wrong person, a guy, food critic that was gonna review him, Jack and Chrissy just hanging a shower curtain, stretch it – I can’t, sounded like something else from outside the door, Roper called Jack a real man’s man, Roper looks at camera, ie the TV viewer sometimes after cracking a joke, Jack learned how to tie knots in the Navy, tied sheets together to climb out bedroom window to escape diamond mafia waiting in living room, accidentally dropped end of sheet-rope out window while sliding it down then froze, winced and spazzed out, cardboard in the cake, turns out ruining party was wrong idea, ran through party and knocked cake out of everyone’s hands before they could eat it…….

The camera shot of the living room, it looks like where a FUCKING TV set would be, facing them, back to viewer, against a back wall which would be in front of TV viewer, but no sign from the show they had a God…Damned….TV!!!, as far as I remember.

Nice apartment, no life, full underachievers, they would be socially dumb now, old sitcoms made working class look like the stoic part of life but they’re the salt of my ass. They didn’t read anything complicated or know anything about world food, I think baked Alaska was a cultured thing back then. Morals were the base of the foundation layer, racy and faux progressive decoration on top and everybody thought it was crazy but it was so unrealistically moral and also stupid beyond my ass.

Though, girls always dressed skimpy, Jack never appeared to get hard. Play, overacted flirting is all. All that fuss for nothing what a strange, what?…. But also girls under-dressed or in night clothes is racy, no one got hard, it makes me hard, would make me hard, fucking what a fucking dick off time on TV while everything went on outside, someone was consolidating power somewhere and someone else was figuring out how to climb aboard. What a fucking bitch. What a fucking rod in my ass.

Just like that, without transition and without there having been prefiguration I’ll change the subject now to a literary author reminiscing ca 1850 about childhood ca 1820s including his memory of a rumor in his town from 1713 to which he hooked a much more recent adult memory of himself reading the first-hand very different version of that rumor in a diary, adapted below from the Swiss German, from the literary author’s transcription of the protagonist’s notes, something of a religious correction slightly bordering on exorcism, translated closely but somewhat freely into English:



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