Letter From A Future Real Estate Prophet

Mildew Faruch:

Real Estate Tip #1:  Black ribbons might necessarily divide the scimitar shaped lawns, but serpentine sidewalks should gently rise to turrets which house the entrances to the underground, and renal-like, residences. Coordinating colors is the job of women, unless the colors are men, then, a character flaw should be used, or a phantasmic agency, like the totemic otherworldly creatures of Roberto Matta, something a person good with plywood might conceive when confronted with primitive conceptions of zoomorphic physiology, there, passion is rank with mathematics. And, be sure to always wear a red head-band while smoking in the trees.

Real Estate Tip #2: Say "grew" to the early morning lawn, it won't know if you mean "grow" or "grue", and it gives you a leg up on the creatures that dwell there. Make a show of solidarity with them, or be an alien enforcer, show them the plans of the locust's supertree citadel. They know they have no chance of reconquering the sonic space from these ancient Persians, but it's a nice gesture. Install a giant luminous flea made from wax paper in a lawn you have carefully sculpted into a face, so that the flea is seen as a gemstone, one that grasshoppers might invade. Their social circles enjoy warm waxy interiors.

Real Estate Tip #3: Never cut your hair. Let it grow long and full, and sit in the window as much as possible, so that your neighbors can marvel at its magnificence. If you are going to cut it, make it an all day affair, have your robot attendants dress in brightly colored togas, and sprinkle the hair in the lawn, or make dolls from it and hang in the trees everywhere, signalling, it is the time of haircutting.

Real Estate Tip #4: Remove your door, and replace it with the strangest painting you've ever seen in your dreams. Get a loan from the bank to do this, and make it difficult to construct. It should be made from crumbling pumice, or the dried bodies of chickens and mice. Don't be alarmed when your neighbors leave old and rusty swords at your door. It means they covet your dog, and his enormous helmet collection.

Real Estate Tip #5: Put a chimney atop your garden well, so that you have to climb up with a ladder, and use a great deal of effort to get at the water, that you support the rope makers, and that you have a sense of history, that you remember when water was smoke, and that the fire of water is in "In the Earth" as the old adage goes. Be a creature of tradition. Wear no pants to the well, as the ancients did, and eat much, and make a big buttock.

Real Estate Tip #6: Float colored balls above your house by using a giant fan. Do this only on certain days, so that your neighbors may enjoy your initiative in creating a new tradition. You may find they have many traditions as well if you only look. A large number of people these days are launching anvils, but remember, your lawn is conscious, and the sidewalk made of gold leaf. You know that destruction is something the banks, and the craftspeople neurotically crave. Disrupt their cravings with balls. Colored balls are coming back on a tidal wave of clowns. Clowns are friends to the raccoons, and the raccoons build lovely bicycles.

Real Estate Tip #7: Find the only house in your neighborhood that looks like a dome or a pie, and tie a black ribbon from your house to it's hitching wheel. It's the law, so you might as well get it done. No one likes to be woken up at three in the morning and harangued with merengue until you ribbon up to the dome-pie overlords.

Real Estate Tip #8: Keep a scrapbook of your walks through the neighborhood, the step pyramid lawns, the kris streets, the deep inverted dome lawns of the evil ones who show their televisions instead of hair. Don't restrict your hair to being hair, you know as well as I, that every bald person is a saint, and also, they have the backing of the grasshoppers, and the myriad birds that nest in their absent locks. Go into the waters in the center of town and release a blue-print of your home so it can dissolve in the foaming.

MF,

I thought these tips might help, though as you can see, I am writing you from prison again, I did not wear my ornamental leather orchid tongue jerkin to the supermarket where the "Mighty Judge of Transference" hides in his sleeping bag. When he saw my naked tongue, he said "Fuck Off!" So I had to take my shopping cart of lawn supplies and auto-inter. I can get out, but my stomach hurts. I have been hoarding fertilizer again in my cheeks, and my wife (husband) can't find the tool to fix it. I think I will just stay in jail for awhile. the geckos here crawl all over your body at night, and it feels like being asleep in a traffic jam of rainbows.
The koala police are peddling pornography in here. It's like high tea, but without so much sugar and cake.
If you find me in your mailbox all wrapped in plastic, would you carry me down to the river. I knew a clown once who lived down there who called himself Sigmund Freund. He always wore a big condom on his head.

your neighbor,

Rattatooey Johnson Almohazari