A LARDING Lauren Bender, Theresa Columbus & Megan McShea
I’m not one to enable truancy, but sometimes it is indistinguishable from Mormon missionary work, especially when one is charged with the great responsibility of missionary work (in porn). “Handyman special,” he said with a twinkle in his eye and a twinkie in his pocket. I was so embarrassed that I called him, that I kept trying to make it sound like I’d been using a different sentence and it kept coming out “a dozen jelly donuts, a dozen jelly donuts” like so many small appreciative turds in one’s lap, in the car. He said there was more powdered sugar on me than on the whole tray of donuts. Attachment disorder. Let me consider that from the other room, bye. When at the last moment it is like, I decided I really like you, isn’t that like it’s in my bag? Not my colostomy bag, no. Which reminds me – have you seen my Netflix envelope? I’ve been so distracted by weather and migraines. Annexed across a highway where we all stopped every five hours or so. I didn’t mean to get so scandalized, but who could help it with the old man dropping his pants all the time? Girl’s gotta eat. And it wasn’t until we had a croissant at our disposal that I saw him, dismounting his Mormon bicycle. He traveled light and often and I’ll never forget. Sandy hair, green eyes, dopey space ship. He scandalized into clouds of particles, dust mites, architectural kinds of talking. These particles felt like self doubt mixed with more substantial matter, like clay. The placid ‘pfoomf’ of the furnace firing. Imagine the vases breaking in there. Like every attachment between every verb in every book. She overheard him talking about sleep disorder. It was a cross between formaldehyde and a feral cat. That was the feeling of being awake.
The larding method: Each writer writes a first and last line on a piece of paper, and the pages are passed around, with each writer adding lines to all the pages, anywhere on the page, either reading existing lines or not, until the page is full of words. These were called Lardings at first by Blaster Al Ackerman, and later re-named juicings in deference to the vegetarians.