Patti Smith's Gym Application


NAME

Call me Jimi. Call me Jagger. Call me Rimbaud. I’m every white hot bitch in heat. I’m every black man who’s ever cried. I’m a panther. A lancer. An unexplained answer. I am New Jersey.

AGE

I slip between the Fall of Saigon and the Rise of the Transformers. Wedged beside Burroughs in Tangiers and the space between Mickey Mouse’s ears. I’m an ageless nymph, I’m an old maid in Normandy, I’m too young to be recognized. I’m a flightless bird.

CONTACT DETAILS

Try to touch me, but you can never reach me. I’m at the Dakota. I’m in the Brady Bunch House. I’m floating in Morrison’s Paris bathtub. Look for me where I should never be, and I have just abandoned there. You can’t find me, except in the stars, in the stars, in the stars. Infinity.

OUTSTANDING MEDICAL CONDITIONS

Veins filled with too much experience. Heart fit to burst. Hands that have felt anger and plasticine. Eyes that have seen everything and wept often. Feet burnt black from dancing. Asthma.

ANY SPECIAL ASSISTANCE REQUIRED

Just allow my pleasure to burst, spinning and clashing like a horse unrestrained in a sea of piss and inevitability. Did Baudelaire need special assistance? Did Jackson Pollock need special assistance? Did Jack Palance? Then ask them, Charlie.

TYPE OF MEMBERSHIP – OFF PEAK/FULL ACCESS

If the peak can be mounted and tasted, if the angels never fell too hard to earth, littered with gems like wells of dreams. No access is ever full. Ask a Black Panther. Ask the MC5. Ask Altamont. There’s always the wall of misery and calm and fog and henna.

WILL YOU ATTEND CLASSES (i.e. SPINNING/ZUMBA)

Teachers teach the truth of lies. Switchblade kids on dark street corners know the answers. Live. Work. Breathe. Hope. Pray. Dance. Nap. Fight. Activate. Agitate. Eat pizza.

WILL YOU REQUIRE TOWELS

Let me dry in the brittle wind of a desert storm. The sand in our faces, blazed with burning dirt. Benediction to the spirits, the lizard leading the lamb, the butcher leading the flank, the bland leading the bland.

HOW DID YOU HEAR ABOUT US

Taste the word on the street. And the word is POWER. And the word is ANGER. And the word is BOXCAR. Standing on the corner, the boy with the hip shake, a switchblade in your back, Jack.

ANY ADDITIONAL COMMENTS

Liberté! Égalité! Cassius Clay!


Featured Posts
Recent Posts
Search By Tags
No tags yet.
Follow Us
  • Facebook Classic
  • Twitter Classic
  • Google Classic

FOLLOW ME

  • Twitter Classic

© 2014 by Dale Shaw. Proudly created with Wix.com