Blog Archives - antelopenvelope

diner lingo


dear you, who used to sit at table #23,

monday/special: reuben with a side of licorice sticks/soup: bone button borchst

the architect came in today. oh, does he drink coffee. i bring it to the table in crystal punch bowls.

remember when the power went out and i was serving that table of 10 who promised me a huge tip, my very own banana tree, if only i would bring them their order? 

the architect built us an electrical plant out of eggs over easy.  as soon as we scratched them with forks. light. banana splits on the house.

tuesday/special: organic pancakes straight from the aerosol can/soup: coconut peanut butter

all sentences directed towards me contained 0 grams of sugar.  spit in many tapiocas.  went home and laid on  leftover napkins. 

is it difficult to walk when you have to move yourself and the person clinging to you? you’re married. i’m sure you know. maybe i’d be a natural.  i can carry three plates and two sodas at once. as long as the soda is diet.

wednesday/special: tootsie rolls/soup: tootsie rolls microwaved in a bowl

we ran out of everything but tootsie rolls.  it’s not a big deal. people are used to accepting tootsie rolls in lieu of better things.  we learn to do it at a very young age. usually at parades or halloween.

we’ll have everything again tomorrow, except a few things.  you, for example, have been on the 86 list for 120 days now. it’s a record.

thursday/special: meatloaf of the gods /soup: daddy’s whisker soup

this will be the last one for now. these waitress pads are small. summer is looking straight at me and promising to take me to the beach once my shift is over. his car is the color of cherries. it is hard not to take a big bite.

your pie is still waiting for you,


Dear Phil


Which are you? Are you doddering Phil, drinking bourbon in the greenhouse, or do you glide through the alleys now, rain caterwauling off your hatbrim? Are you the shadow nosing just far enough past the doorway to aim a pointed observation? Have you learned to detect like Janus both the past and future simultaneously? It would look good on your resume.  I hear they have seminars for it, and they are brimful with undertakers, morticians, and raincoat salesmen.

While you were diving, I walked off with your wife. She was just a kid, knock-kneed as a pelican, or so I thought. You never know what you are getting into, with women. It turns out, they can have agency. This one, yours, I forget her name now, she had all of Jupiter storming about inside her. She had gravity. You know I’m no good when I’m actually wanted. You know it makes me go all racehorse in the gut. Anyway, she still left me first, dragging me like a polluted wing behind her.

Consider that maybe even we never truly know ourselves. I drew my self-portrait only after several interviews with experts who think they know me from the movies. Consider the subjectivity of how we perceive color. The sea is blue with oil and the fishermen, sunburned, who dip their nets in and out and in again empty, their necks blister with green. Consider that shellfish makes my guts roll up like a ball of yarn, and that you shall get them yourself and I will gnaw sullenly on yams.

Last night I dreamt I saved your life. You were drowning. I put my mouth to yours and blew as hard as I could, then punched your heart until you sputtered back up like a boat motor. In reality, I could not do this even if I wanted.

 - Humphrey

Dear Humphrey


I have a diving suit in the basement you can use. I have been meaning to show you. Actually I tried it once and went into the water. There may be problems with the oil now, but you have to try it to be sure. 

It is more real than the past. Maybe you have a special power, but I cannot re-experience my memories as well as I would like. I don't believe anything can be replicated. Does this make the diving suit light or heavy? 

If you go in to the black water, you will see yourself. It will be like the Christmas party. You will realize how terrible it is to be pure, to be independent, to be the ideal American. 

Pick up some of those white crabs, while you're at it. I can cook it into a stew, and you can have it. I'll bring it to the office. Things far away taste different. I have never seen a jellyfish. More and more I feel that life is becoming mythical.