generica in the face of arcana

Welcome welcome I'm the carny barker from a little town called nowhere, and I think you might've been there before, with cold feet and a cold nose and eyes closed against the oblivion seeping from its half-eaved collapsible houses.
Now that my beard is gone, my thoughts are a bit more rampant, running a gamut of bullshit and signifying that Bigs' been encouraging, though his elocutional skill when it comes to insults is pretty much unsurpassable without a thesaurus, a mythology handbook and a pop-culture rag mag in hand. And my hands are either gripping the bar ("the ossified pube of Cleopatra herself, aspy and raspy on the morning's unfurling themselves like a standard flag Marx Marvelous wanted to take into battle" as Bigs once said; I'm going to have to start keeping a catalogue, or at least a tape recorder) or fluttering spasmodically to my naked, though florid-smelling, face. But the canvas on the gloves is fustian ("yo momma's prom dress from the Spanish inquisition was rougher than Dre Bly's career outside the backfield") and rarely consoles my nude jaw.
Bigs, of course, gives me a modicum of shit about it, and tries to coerce Lugsy into prattling too, but the man's as gentle as beakless mother hen free-ranging through April, though he does know how to wrestle an apology out of someone w/ a few apposite aspersions. We three've become somewhat of a team, which is natural considering we're always doing the runs together, but our dynamic's more fluid and unchecked, unlike Phoebe and whoever's obliged to be w/ her that specific night. Not that she's a bad person, but man she's got a tongue on her like an irradiated anaconda tearing the Amazon a few new tributaries. And she doesn't hold herself back. She paints it like she sees it ("that bitch thought Humanism was a diet"; "Leanardo'd envy her eyes for etching the starkest lineaments from a portrait muddled like the cesspool yo parents found you in") but uses a steel-wire intead of horsehair brush. Gerry made some passing remark under his breath as she was heading out, something about the merits of feminism for a woman like her (there'd been a prior argument, or really, more a confrontation, about smoke breaks) and she whirled around, her elbows and shoulders and every angle about her ("she's as voluptuous as a Calder mobile, but w/ more irrational axes pinwheeling about") poised and focus like a peregrine fixed on a crippled fieldmouse, and basically spat "and ain't it a good thing yer sister threaded you in here 'cuz her husband got mo' sway here than a bitch in heat?"
Bigs Lugsy and me, and Harry and Zeke, who were fumbling around in the back of the bay, but Phoebe said it loud enough the whole population of caterwauling cats just wiping the day from their whiskers took up her cadence a minute later, like to died. We looked like blowfish poked w/ sushi knives we were trying so hard not to bust out. We got on the road quick as a pissed sphinx ("fast as Dedalus pushing his nephew down the stairs 'cuz he was gonna get more patronage, the pussy of the Roman age" and somehow, he's never pedantic or sententious; I haven't yet, but I need to buy this man a beer b/c he's a rolodex of arcana).
Other than that, life's been a drunk junior at a house party, pretty easy, but a bit embarassing at times, and slopppy but that's more the job itself than anything else. The embarassment arises from just having to live at home still, where since I'm basically indisposed w/ gathering garbage and bringing the aroma of moribund restaurants and the streets' system of amor, I haven't been able to help out as much as I was before (though that's an overstatement). The Volvo's still obstreperous as a lycanthrope in gibbous throes, but she's easily assuaged w/ some tinkering w/ the spark plugs. A short fix, I know, b/c I think it's symptomatic of some faulty wires but there doesn't seem to be enough time for mom to drop her off for a few diagnostic days. Now that I'm getting some money though (and honestly, it's not too bad paying of a job; no tech salary stuff, but I can save a pile taller than Babel while living at home) I might be able to invest in a decent car. I dunno, it's all speculation, but this is the only place where I can do it, the blog that is, since if I were to get a car I'd want it to be a surprise for mom and Mel so I can't tell them, and I don't have friends outside of my colleagues, and I'm not really sure if I wanna bounce financial worries and soucis off of them.
I like the idea in principle though, Welcome Matt shoring up the family in times of need. We all need to feel needed, but not needy. Ugh, generic as Wal-Mart aspirin or a beardless man.
Welcome Matt out