https://ftyler.bandcamp.com/album/upending-the-culture
He had already eaten the sun, and behind it was a trite eyeball. You know the whole deal, third eye, enlightenment, contrived platitudes regarding transcendence to another plane or whatever. It was the drugs again. Always the drugs. Cornelius used them as a way to explain his obviously superior intelligence, which he took seriously, but everyone else said sarcastically. In fact he used to be reasonably bright, but that had gone the way of pine ash. Sticky.
His mother had nothing to say on his behalf the day he wrecked the boat. Why bother? It was going to be headline news anyway because of where he crashed it. In this place local news is the entire world to most people. Backward like a hat. Upside down like an ass on a roller coaster. Cornelius ejected the corn flakes and orange juice he had for breakfast. Ever notice how often the act of vomiting actually comes up in stories?
It all starts with eating the sun and vomit. It all ends in tears, boat crashes, and recycled glass bottles from the late 80s. We didn’t have the heart to tell him. Someone should have told him. Now he was alive but disgraced, and no one wants to dance with the guy because his hands are dirty.