Fancy Language
I used the word “creosote”
in a story the other day
and this guy (another writer) said,
“What’s with all the fancy
language?”
“Fancy language?” I said.
“I hate it when writers
try to act like they’re
smarter than I am,” he
said.
“Creosote’s a
plant,” I told him, “hardly
highbrow.”
“Fuck plants,” he said.
Well, I thought,
fuck people too.
In fact, fuck stories,
fuck communication,
fuck feeling,
fuck words,
fuck history,
fuck it all.
(Creosote bushes live
where almost nothing
else can.
They decorate the desert
and when you crush the
small green leaves
it smells like rain.)
Horror Sleaze Trash 