a story that kristen iskandrian wrote half of and tao lin wrote half of

I am grading papers. I am grading papers. I read, “Hamlet is arguably the most famous play of all time.” I read it again. I write in the margin: It’s not fair for you to write this because you don’t know this from your own head. I think how unfair it is. I think she must have read that on the back of the movie with that actor in it. She doesn’t know it from her own head. Maybe one day I say it in class because I am feeling stuffy. I am circling words and underlining them, feeling happy because with a system chances are good I will not grade papers until I die. One underline means no. Two underlines mean good. Circles mean another word. Arrows mean move this or why didn’t you move this or see this or what about this. I am happy because with my system I will go to bed soon and have a dream about a place. I am grading papers about Hamlet and his antic disposition. Nobody knows what that means. Everybody writes everything and nobody knows what it means. I am tired of milk and water. I want something different besides milk and water, but everything is either milk or it is water. I think some of these people who write about Hamlet have guns. I hear them talking. I imagine how they look shooting things, shooting holes into things and seeing holes fill with blood and knowing that they made the bloodfilled holes. And then they go to sleep and they dream about places, and things, that have nothing to do with bloody holes. All of the bloody holes come to my dream and now they are covered with milk and still I am grading papers. I just want to write at the top of each one, Can you tell me where I can buy a gun so that I can stop dreaming about your bloody holes with the milk on them? I don’t write this. I write misplaced modifier and I write this contradicts what you say earlier and I write every argument needs a thesis. And I don’t believe any of it. I am grading papers without believing in anything. I am a heathen, grading the Lord’s papers. I want to write at the top, Can you tell me how to believe? I am grading papers and I am realizing at the speed of sound that I am the one who needs teaching. I am one and they are many and they know everything because they know only the things that make them happy, whereas everything I know makes me sad. And I keep knowing more and getting sadder until the day comes for an incredible reversal. The day comes when everything I know and everything I don’t know are the same, and there are only papers and milk and water. In a little while I am going to pour milk on these papers and eat them and I am going to pour milk on my head and eat it, and afterward when I go to bed I will dream of a meadow filled with grazing, lowing papers. I will lay down amongst them and grade them and I will simply be glad. I am losing my system in all this milk, and the water in this smudged glass looks milky, and I think I must be arguably the most famous play of all time, sitting here and grading these papers. I am hungry. I am going to eat Hamlet’s head with milk after I pour the milk on Hamlet’s head. I write on the paper that I am going to eat your head. Her head has red hair on it and I do not want to eat that. I will shoot her hair with my gun until the hair is gone, and some of her scalp will be gone too and then I will pour the milk there and eat it. I am happy because when I eat the head the head will go into my head and I will understand the other head and my head will fill it with milk. I fill you with milk. I believe that things filled with milk will be eaten by other heads. I am grading papers. I write on the paper that I am going to eat her head with milk. She will run from me and fall in my head and my head will eat her head by shooting milk at it. My system is to shoot milk from my forehead and eat my forehead. One quart of milk means I eat the forehead with my hands in my pockets. Two underlines means after I grade papers I will stand up and stand up into a large head that will eat my head. There are many papers to grade. At the store I buy coffee and I come back. The papers are not eating one another and I know this makes me sad. I am sad. Heads are sad. I am hungry. I am grading papers. Hamlet’s head is digesting in my stomach. A bottle of milk floats on my desk. I am grading my milk. I write on the milk that Hamlet is a large head filled mostly with water. I am eating paper heads. There is a knock on my door. I am grading heads. This head is red with a stupid face. I am at the door. The man is carrying me out the door. I am grading my head. I am lowered into the ground. My coffin says something about Hamlet. I am grading my coffin. Bugs are eating my head.

me: why is there milk in the story?

Kristen: because it is goes good with heads.
it is white and cold.

me: is the character in this story fucked?

Kristen: Yes, very.
But not hungry.

me: say something about johannes gorranson, the publisher of my poetry book
is his last name goransson or gorranson?

Kristen: The first.
I think.
with an umlaut somewhere.

me: pass out this story to your class
will you pass out this story to your class?

Kristen: Johannes is from Sweden. His blog is called Slapkoppel.

me: why is everyone's favorite short story either a good man is hard to find or where are you going, where have you been?

Kristen: No, I will not pass this story out to my class. Because some people think Flannery O'Connor ate Joyce Carol Oates's head, and some people think Joyce Carol Oates ate Flannery O'Connor's head, and the battle has been ongoing, but it has never been won, so there was a schism in the story world. Also, those are the only two real stories that have ever been written.

me: type something you have heard johannes say in real life
and replace one word
with
joyce carol oates
i just recieved a rejection letter from danielle pafunda about my story called 'lisa jarnot'
'We can't place this one, unfortunately, but please do send more? We very much like your work. Thanks for thinking of us.'

Kristen: then she will definitely reject the headeating story too.
Um, one time I said something about sconces, and Johannes said that sconces were very Joyce Carol Oates.
If I remember rightly.

me: do i need to ask any other questions?

Kristen: Yes
No

me: why
i want to kill someone

Kristen: I don't know--I just got scared.

me: why do i want to kill someone
you used a em dash

Kristen: Yes I like them.
I wrote a whole essay about them.
you want to kill someone b/c you want to eat their heads after they're dead
you want to kill someone because you're hungry.

me: no