Elliott Smith is the Tlatquiatluk

Parking Lot Monkeys: We feel so dirty. We hate ourselves. We blame Elliott Smith.

Elliott Smith: What did I do now?

Parking Lot Monkeys: It’s not what you did, it’s what you DIDN’T do, Elliott Smith. *SOBBB*

Elliott Smith: Okay, what did I NOT do now?

Parking Lot Monkeys: *SOBBB* Elliot, do something!

Zorax, Master of the Obvious: It’s another crappy Monday, and it’s Elliott Smith’s fault, again. I am very bored, so someone needs to wake Henry Stack Sullivan up and have him dance for our entertainment.

Henry Stack Sullivan: Tappity tappity tappity tap. Shuffly shuffly shuffle shuff. Tappity tappity tappity tap. (Big finish) Ka-tap, ka-tap, ka-top, ka-CHA!!

Wintermute: Over the weekend, Henry Stack Sullivan drove me crazy. I had the sweats and my mother was very worried for me. She put me in an ice bath and prayed to Saint Marie, her head wrapped in a black shawl like mi abuela for hours. But it was no use, me not even shaking from the cold water in the tub, staring straight up, hungry for blood. My hallucinations kept getting more and more intense until I jumped out of the tub, knocking my mom onto the floor and blasting out of the flat with no clothes. I found O’Brien at the Hollywood and jumped on his back, biting him, like eight times! Everyone was freaked out, but I must have looked mad scary, because no one, not even the bouncers, stopped me. I woke up back home, my bed soaking wet and the fever broken, O’Brien’s blood all over my face and pillow. So I know that was real, and with all that blood missing, that guy must be in the hospital or something. And I blame Elliott Smith.

O’Brien: I had a dream with Elliott Smith in it. Not anything sexual, so don’t get the wrong idea, but it was pretty weird because I only have dreams I remember once every few months. I was back at University of Buffalo following Elliott Smith around because I didn’t know where I was, and I was in a panic because classes ended that day and I didn’t have any of my work done. Not sure what strange psychological undertones this may imply.

Karellen: I had a similar dream, where Elliott Smith was painting my face with charcoal, preparing me for war with an army of robots.

Sigmund Freud: These dreams sound homoerotic. I’d look into this if I were you.

O’Brien: I knew you’d say my dream was homoerotic. It felt more like Elliott Smith was my leader, taking me out of a confused abyss of conference rooms and back to the Promised Land. Which had tacky set design and poor lighting.

Mustapha Mond: I was just talking to this hot mamasita in my building for about 15 minutes. And when I walked back to my apartment I noticed that my zipper was down the entire time. Now I feel like idiot. I blame Elliott Smith.

Hot Mamasita: So, like, I was like coming up the stairwell today and this posh older guy that lives in my building came up to me and, like, he just kept totally going on and on about stuff, and I was like “uh huh, uh huh” and trying to get away, and then, like, he kept following me and talking. So then I notice that he’s like totally got his zipper down, like he’s trying to flash me or something, and I was like “Ohmygawd, how gross” and stuff. Finally I got away from him. But now my day is like totally shot by how grotty that was. And, like, I like blame Elliott Smith and stuff.

Ossifa Tlinklitniktikutl In Nunavut, they have a word for people like Elliott Smith: “Tlatquiatluk”. It translates as “the net that catches the shit flowing in to river, when it’s not frozen.” Each Inuit settlement has its own Tlatquiatluk, who bravely carries blame for all that goes wrong in the community, making the rest of the community members feel better about themselves. It’s good to see Elliott Smith preserving such an important role in his homeland. Hopefully, he does not go Tiniktiniquit (Inuit word for “Mad like the mother seal after her cubs have been clubbed and skinned”), a common occurrence for longtime Tlatquiatluks.

Karellen: The freakin’ coffee jockey at the Dunkin’ Donuts put cream in my coffee when I ordered it black, and I didn’t realize it until I got to work. Now my whole day is shot. I’m getting too old for this crap, and I know who to blame for that, too! Where’s that damn Tlatquiatluk, Elliott Smith? I’m gonna give him HELL!!

Ossifa Tlinklitniktikutl: You can blame him for everything else, but you can’t blame the Tlatquiatluk for growing old. Growing old is a natural process. Nothing to do with me or my people’s traditions. Inuit age quickly. I am only 34 years old, and already am a grandfather. My people generally die of heart attacks right around time our last teeth fall out from chewing hides, about age 50. Not Tlatquiatluk’s fault. Just the Inuit way.

Karellen: Sorry, Ossifa T, I don’t buy that. From my way of thinking, it was an Inuit serpent who gave the apple to Eve. Your people are responsible for age, death, sickness and painful childbirth. That’s why The LORD sent you to the Arctic.

O’Brien: I wish I had “a people.”

Karellen: You do have a people, O’Brien. They are called “Those Who Serve Karellen With Pleasure.” Now bring me a cup of black coffee, and tell Elliott Smith that him and his type aren’t welcome here, especially on a Monday morning.

Parking Lot Monkeys: We’re sorry we brought that Tlatquiatluk up. It won’t happen again. Next time we hate ourselves, we’ll blame it on D. Boon. Maybe partying will help.

Ossifa Tlinklitniktikutl Is On the Job

hmmmm… many people in igloo… better call ice marshall quick… click. click. click. click. click. click. sorry, mister. that all this igloo is rated to hold. yr gonna have to take yr seal intestines and go somewhere else. official tally in igloo… three man inuit, three woman inuit, four sled dog, one half walrus (part eaten already), two seal (dead). ice marshall come. tell family too crowded, conditions unsafe, igloo might melt and crush half walrus and dogs. that not acceptable. inuit men stripped of parkas and mukluks and left out on ice floe. ossifa tlinklitniktikutl and ice marshall get little something something from inuit women, then back to work keeping nunavut safe.

Published in: on January 26, 2010 at 8:04 pm  Leave a Comment  

Gundrud Yergmansdottir Sings

so say your seal is for being. the seal has cubes of for being my boy. my boy is very six. i have for buckets of jelly in my ice. the ice is very filled with spiders and rockets. my boy is the trumpet. i am the polar bear of the nightclub action time.

lets say that you are art. you have the art like i have the various. for we are two like fliers in the skiff. soon the boy he takes down the green and flies his paint like mascara. my eyes are running like the biathlon. i am to shoot me on dead. the mountain it cries for the only.

can you not see womanly when it bites you in the eyes? my womanly it is like the fire in the igloo of love. it is melting the igloo into milk and blood without red. the borealis is the boy and wings to see on the rocks in which we cast our lots of being. my womanly makes the tundra like golden. the seal hunters come home with puffins.

my heart is like the aurora as you love my poetry for being so me. you fill me with seal jelly! no! i am no gentleman myself! i am the womanly! see my ample walrus-like dugs, you scandal boy.

now sing from inside i for you the song of the womenly for to being seen. the tune is you know to be.

in 1804 the manly set sail for Uummannaq for to hunt the whale. the sun like a puffin eye in the sky as their skiffs went under the ice. the womanly danced like ptarmigants, their pants and chants like whale romance.

two hundred years past. the manly came home with no whales, the womanly left with sore tails and long trails into the vales of nails.

nine months past. bellies explode and loads of new Greenlanders are put out on the road. they hitch hike to Uummannaq, build shacks and kick back to relax.

this is the value of the security tax.

Published in: on January 26, 2010 at 1:36 pm  Leave a Comment