The n-Body Problem

It’s not enough to do things. Doing things makes thought slide, gives way to automatic images, unbidden connection. The only way to reset is deliberate lists. Mental lists. X has kicked his shoes off. There are no sores or scars or marks on his feet. A little surprising. The inflated tissue at the base of my throat makes me think of those hemorrhoid rings you sit on. There are no lists. I can’t just make a list of everything. You can’t just count. You can’t just point. Lists stop linear chains and prevent atomization. No dictionarying. Lists take the outside and stack it inside. Lists are like chemotherapy. Chop the fear from the image. Shrink the new body. Cease evolution. I need a list that can’t be ignored. That isn’t inconsequential. I need a list with its own gravitational field.

Dixon.

Here is a list of the things he is known to have done with the bodies in the towns. Dixon sewed seventy-nine people together in a fountain: testicles to vaginas, testicles to tongues, testicles to eyes, testicles to anus, testicles to testicles, testicles to penis, testicles to breast, testicles to removed liver, testicle to small intestine, testicle to exposed brain, testicle to open throat, testicle to stomach lining, testicle to bone fragments, testicle to cheek, testicle to fontanel, testicle to arch, testicle to navel, testicle to bladder, testicle to eyelid, testicle to lung cancer, testicle to parotid gland, testicle to frog, testicle to windpipe.

Also involving the same seventy-nine people: vaginas to vaginas, vaginas to tongues, vaginas to eyes, vaginas to anus, vaginas to penis, vaginas to breast, vaginas to removed liver, vagina to small intestine, vagina to exposed brain, vagina to open throat, vagina to stomach lining, vagina to bone fragments, vagina to cheek, vagina to fontenal, vagina to arch, vagina to navel, vagina to bladder, vagina to eyelid, vagina to lung cancer, vagina to parotid gland, vagina to frog, vagina to windpipe.

Dixon removed his shoes and jumped across the tense, agitated surface like a kid in a bouncy castle.

Dixon tied several hundred people to a fence along the highway then drove at speed beside them with a bat held tight in the window. Dixon managed to hit most of the heads, launching bone and brains into the cows.

Dixon made a hood from the eviscerated body of an eight-month-old baby. The hood moves magically. Fingers tickling his temples. Small feet clenching on his shoulders.

Dixon made sunglasses out of the sphincters of twins. The tiny apertures working like slits to reduce brightness. Unnecessary since we have been able to stare directly into the sun for over eight years now.

Dixon has made a practise of necrophilia and his list of partners numbers in the thousands. Dixon has sex with several on a typical day.

Dixon has ejaculated into vaginas. Into anuses. Into mouths. Into eyes. Into cuts opened on every imaginable part of the body—throats, ribs, bellies, etc. Dixon has also ejaculated into brains, testicles, spines. Dixon has ejaculated inside the oldest and the youngest females. The oldest and the youngest males. Dixon has attempted to ejaculate on those merely stunned by electrocution and has had to kill the person manually in order to ejaculate. Dixon has ejaculated wearing a cored penis on his own penis. Noting the cored penis moves on its own like a worm shroud. Dixon has ejaculated in the hole left by a severed penis. It is impossible to finish this list as it is always longer than one imagines. Ejaculations involved penetration where practical.

Dixon drained the blood from fifty-four people into a dry swimming pool. Dixon studied the eddies and currents as they changed over days. Eventually, Dixon bathed in it and marvelled at the live blood and how its caresses varied endlessly.

Dixon has boiled an older woman’s head and removed, cubed, and eaten the brain.

Dixon, on a particularly random moonlit night, ran down the line taking single bites from faces. He then joined the corpses by hooking fingers into the holes.

Dixon has dropped people from the tops of bridges, tall buildings, hydro towers, waterfalls, churches, trees, and grain silos.

Dixon has lined up hundreds of naked people in chairs on a road then driven a pick-up into them at 160 km/h. He has done this numerous times. His record is seventy-eight people—that’s how many bodies it took to stop the vehicle.

Dixon has slept on a woman whom he thought he knew.

Dixon has skinned many dozens and taken pictures.

Dixon removed the testicles from eleven scrotums and inserted them through deep slits into the body of a heavy man, like cloves of garlic in a turning pig carcass. Dixon cooked him, but only ate the testicles, which he tore out with a rake. Dixon noted that cooking someone only slows movement and that when it cools the skin hardens like a carapace and only the fatty tissue beneath can move.