“There’s a lady on the midway—spitting wooden nickels out her ass.”
Lola came from within. She came from within—again and again. Lola came and grinned—she came and came and came some more. The circus came around that day—and after that they never left. They stayed and stayed—from that day on. They never left town—they stayed within. They never dismantled—all the crooked games and tents. They never packed up—and headed for another town. “Hey, what’s happening?”—Burning Flaming Un-Dead Smoking Sex! A pretty town one day—then the circus decided to stay. Inferno Colossal Gurgling Teen Egoism—Lola’s Hydrophobic Love Hips. When the circus came to town—Lola Honeydew’s Tripping Meatloaf got all askew. Her Reclusive Pubic Commando cunt—how it came so “too” too. She stayed and stayed—where her Dreadlocks guarded her Subterranean Bulging Cherry Pie! Her Moist Pussy Circus—in the back of the Sideshow Tent. Everybody knew Lola—and her Supa Love Root Tool-Box. Her Caramel-Coated Spasm—her Supernatural Linda Lovelace throbbing Tonsils. Lola got to know them all—Lola knew them better than Worms. “There’s a lady on the midway— spitting Cheesy Mystery Adolescent Sasquach Gifted Cross-Eyed wooden nickels out her ass.” Everybody knew Skunk-Boy—her Mesmerizing Illegal Nose-snot Stooped Florescent Boyfriend. When the circus came to Lop-sided Hambone Meat Throbbing Pulsating Half-bred Snarksville—she came too. A startled town—in Cyclops Knobby Canker Sexy Overdrive. Looney Britney asked, “Who is Lola anyway?” But Smiling Chewy Koala Boyfriend—the Wild Rug Burn Nobody knew. Lola just came—that’s what she was good at.

“No one really knows how—

she’s able to pull off something like

that and no one dares to ask.”

Everybody knew Lola. When the circus came to town—she came too. A startled town asked, “Who is Lola anyway?” But nobody knew. Lola just came to town one day—and decided to stay.

When the circus came to town—Lola came too. She stayed and stayed—when the circus stayed. Everybody knew Lola—and Lola knew them. Lola knew them—better than they knew themselves.

Lola came from within. She came from within—again and again. Lola came and grinned—she came and came and came some more. The circus came around that day—and after that they never left. They stayed and stayed—from that day on. They never left town—they stayed within.

They never dismantled—all the crooked games and tents. They never packed up—and headed for another town. “Hey, what’s happening?” the town folk used to ask. But after awhile—nobody asked anymore. After the circus came to town and stayed—nobody seemed to care.

Nobody worked for minimum wage anymore—the circus was the only job in town. The town folk changed—they became carney folk. They skulked around the midway—cracking jokes at their own expense. They knew it was all a hoax—everybody was carney then. Everybody worked for Lola—everybody came from within.

Nobody paid to see—the Bearded Lady in a Cage. Nobody paid to see—the tired Mermaid on display. What the hell did you need a mermaid for—or a bearded lady? When you had Lola—to make your day.

Penguin Boy smiled—so did Zip & Pip the Pinhead Twins. Rubes and carnies were one then—since that day the circus came to town. No need for spare change anymore—everybody was in the know. Lola ran the town—she was there to stay.

No need to grab a twenty—fart three fives straight out her ass. Lola used to pull off things like that—but nobody dared to ask anymore. Not after the circus came to town—not after Lola decided to stay.

Nobody in the town—wondered when the circus would leave town? The circus wasn’t going anywhere—it came from within. There used to be a lady on the midway—spitting wooden nickels out her ass. But now—it’s gold coins.

Lola runs the town now—she runs the circus show. Her handsome lover—Hercules the Muscle Man. Her young chauffer—Johnny Eck the Half Boy. She lives in the Haunted Mansion—on top of Snark Hill.

“Sometimes Snark or Snarkism is basically defined as someone who is suffering from a bad case of snarkiness: “Woah, bitch, don’t give me none of that snarkism.”—http://www.snark.me

One night Lola had a snarky dream. She dreamed all the people in Snarksville—were inside her dreamy head. All the campy carney folks and all the snarky rubes—they lived down there deep inside her snarky brain. Lola was them—and they were her. Smarmy Snarkology—it came from deep inside. Snark was super-surrealistic—it turned things inside out. Smarmy smirky snark—it ruled the town. That’s the way it was in Snarksville—that’s how the sneaky old world worked. A little smarm here—a little smirk there. Here a snarl—there a schmuck. Everywhere—a subtle shade of snarky Snark. And when we dream—it’s smarmy Stygian hell we visit. The Queen of Dis—down there in the Underworld. She be Lola—the not so gay Gaia. And when Lola looks at you—you turn to Stone. As surely as Lola is Madame Medusa—with her bouffant of Sunken Snakes. As surely as she’s Elsa Lancaster—with her Bride of Frankenstein art deco wig. Designed by James Whale—just for your own special honeymoon in hell. You be Boss Cupid—cute Teenage Frankenstein. The Baron and Herr Doctor Praetorius—have created you for some Transylvanian fun and games. You’re the Prince of Smarm—Lola your snarky Bride. Read these words—and weep.

“The carney folk skulk—around the midway”

1 The Urban Dictionary—defines a lot of smarty words. Smarty words so snarky—snarky nouns, snarky verbs, snarky adjectives, snarky adverbs, snarky groveling gerunds, snarky this and that.

2 But not much has been written—about snarky storytelling and snarky narratology. The snarky “snark”—is the visible sign of writing. Reading, insofar as it consumes and absorbs the “snark”—erases it. The snarky words disappear—they’re replaced by a snarky story.

3 The story, as everyone knows, is a conspiracy of silence. The snarky narrative transgresses the meaning it elaborates by boring the reader—just as it bored the snarky author.

4 Theatricality helps—to make the snarky storyline more ad lib, impromptu and improvisational. But little can save the snarky story—from being the usual snarky unreadable text.

5 The snarky narrative shuts down the reader—yawning and bored the story stalls.

6 Snarkabatory pleasures—subvert the casual risqué reader. Soon the snarky story—goes paratactic shorthand. Margins fill with magnetically charged detours—divagations, dainty digressions plague the closure-clique mind.

7 A multiplicity of disruptive masturbatory discourses—seduce the reader into a shameless paranormal swoon. Automatic swoonery picks up where Miss Breton left off—shifting moodscapes beneath cheesy moons. Things get edgy—full of “been there” Borgesian déjà vu denouements.

8 Modern snarky textual poetry today—has moved into a more sophisticated parasurrealist portraiture mode.

9 Portraying Lola, for example, within language & snarky syntax—similar to Stein and Proust. But with a mix of you tube youth culture—and hard-edged deadpan directness.

10 Lola be Lolitaesque—with a denial of linear storyline.

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