The kinda circus I like is an anal circus, one that would involve, probably me, certainly Stephin Merritt, Holly Johnson if he were still with us, all sorts of animal-human hybrids, a trapeze, a trampoline, albolene, perfect circles, arcs of circles, black circles, photocopies of circles, red tattoo circles and plenty of redundancy. Plenty of redundancy. Plenty of simultaneity.

Sinead O’Connor on the loudspeaker and Carroll O’Connor on the piano.

Butthole surfers surfing perfect circles.
Butthole surfers surfing perfect circle jerks.

Stephin Merritt yodeling 69 love songs up my asshole.

Stephen Hawking arguing the theory of an oscillating universe versus the theory of an ever expanding universe. Stephen Morrisey arguing the theory of an oscillating anus versus the theory of en ever expanding anus.

Some nascar driver with greasy hands riding circles around the inside of my rectum on a motorcycle. You can’t tell they’re greasy though because they are gloved. Perhaps several nascar drivers. And their mechanics, changing tires, peeling out.

That shit might have to go down in Narnia, through the swallow of that fancy closet. Fur in the dark. The Snow Queen is a featured guest. As for Aslan…he’s been sentenced to 30 days in the hole.