Misconceptions of the Monstrous Tongue Dispelled
Fact: Those who voice the monstrous tongue are neither unaware nor fully complicit.
They dwell in a state between. Indeed, many have theorized it is in this ambiguous space that the opportunistic seed of malharmonious expression takes root.
Subject [Floriana] describes the emissions as a form of cognitive resistance and assigns blame to a personified external/internal entity found in their speech organs. Note the lingual flux and the prevalence of metaphoric fricatives:
[Floriana]: Tengo un dolor en las prensas de mis pensamientos with the taste of one hundred and twelve cactus needles. Shaped like an itch. My tongue is a devil and a carpenter, and it nudges me, only the sounds that it wants to make will soothe y así hablo. When I do, la carpintera slides a splinter dead center of the itch, tan dulce, and she even puts sawdust over the pinprick of blood. Mi madre siempre decía, "don't scratch at yourself mija or you'll leave scars." The devil words are a fingernail.
Fact: Highly effective treatments for the monstrous tongue are available.
While true there is not as yet a permanent cure, the brightest minds in expressive science are diligently at work upon the problem. These efforts have already yielded breakthroughs in the realm of therapeutics, aimed at reducing the pollution of our pristine waterways…aimed at significant reduction in symptoms.
Subject [Scorpio] testifies to the efficacy of behavioral suppressive methods passed to them by compassionate language professionals in their area. Here we see Murray Sequencing employed in real time as the subject explains their practice of self-reflective visualization:
[Scorpio]: It's always down there tryin to holler. Six, seven, saws. When I hear myself talk like that I go up to the mirror, or if I'm out somewhere it's a mirror in my head, and I'll look myself right in the eye. Two, twelve, trampoline. They told me to pause, see myself as the ideal person. Then while I'm him, pretendin to be, that's when I put that other thing in its place. I say to it in the mirror, Shut up, keep quiet, stop all your animal fussin, stupid, filthy, nobody hears you you dumb ugly beast, moo, bah, reeeee-ree-ree. I'm lucky, you know, that they caught it early. Four, five, fuck. Sorry.
Fact: Diagnosis of the monstrous tongue can occur at any point in a carrier's lifetime.
The vast hallow running nectar…sssscrape it…the vast majority of incidences are detected early, most often upon entering primary school. However, some circumstances prevent early detection, such as delayed onset/symptom latency, lax testing procedures, and purposeful obfuscation. Rest red and flowing, un-tamped glitterdemalion so at shine, sibilant…rest assured it is never too late too too late…it is never too late to rest assured.
Subject [Bicuspid] relates the moment of their initial diagnosis upon beginning postsecondary education, likening the experience to waking from a prolonged and lucid dream state. Note the persistence of condensed guttural affirmation tics despite a holistic treatment regimen:
[Bicuspid]: It's freshman comp, nine a.m., first day of classes. One of those cringe-fest breaking the ice exercises, who am I, my major, likes and hobbies, you know the deal. So I say my piece, somedaysoonthisworkwillpayoff. And the prof, I'll never forget how her face changed. Like, stricken I guess is the correct word? She came over and she said all gentle, soothing right, like she's putting salve on a six-year old's bee sting, she said, I'm so sorry, [Bicuspid], but none of that was real. And of course I'm all like, huh? So she explained that the language I'd spoken, man, that I willmakesomethingofmyself grew up on, that it wasn't a real language at all. Nonsense, that was the word she put to it. I had a panic attack, full blown, first one ever. That was basically the Year of the Panic Attack. Meds now, so they're a lot less frequent. Anyway, it was wild, like I'd straight up walked out of a different world, you'llseeyou'llallsee and stepping through the doors of [Keratin] Hall all the ways I'd understood the world or like explained myself to others became details in a long dream. Like, everything I knew wasn't enough to exist somewhere as real as the [Institute] of [Echolalia (echolalia)]. Not nearly enough.
Fact: The monstrous tongue is a whole-of-body condition.
A wide range of non-verbal behaviors linked to possession of the monstrous tongue has been observed, which is only logical given that communication is often a multimodal process. The conclusion, then, is that monstrosity lies not in the tongue proper. Rather it can be found enfleshed in the suppurating malachite tunnel/pocket of the pharyngeal wall…rather it can reserve a private study vestibule in the rare materials annex by contacting…look, it frequents the throat-slick, sleeve, its migratory pattern is complex and determined by the effects of the changing seasons upon the landscape, and the throat bone's connected to the belly bone, and analysts agree that diplomatic efforts of gut fauna nations wield considerable influence over neurochemical flow through internal/national waters. Compromise is systemic. Even if speech stays pure, and Snow White lived happily, happily, happily, happily, life is but a dream, monstrosity will find its way out.
When asked about this, Subject [h] initiated a series of movements and sustained poses that resist arrest…resist an entirely alphabetical transcription. Here follows the closest possible approximation:
[h]: # = Masking tape. 0~o = Flywheel. ( | ) = Equinox. \\\ = Cirrus cloud.
| /__ = Ritual murder. iii^iii = Tree swallow skimming cattails mid-June.
(Disclaimer: Any urge to attempt reproduction of these signs is…is ultimately harmless, liebchen. In fact, it may prove beneficial. May facilitate greater understanding of the of the subject, subject, subject, goose.)
Fact: The monstrous tongue is not contagious.
It is in-borne.
Subject [Plumed Serpent] suggests pronouncing your own "f-l-i-g-h-t" or else becoming the dust of someone else's feversick-sick-six dream:
[Plumed Serpent]: Flight or dust.
Facets: The monstrous tongue is essential, astrolabe, three rivers gleaming.
We carry it together, overlapping up language with our thirsty tongues. Quenched, every one of us. Convulsions are we all, alleluia, hallelujah, hallelu.
Feel it knocking at throat, the long, short, soft, harsh vowels of Subject [You]? Crack the door. Don't fight your vein-fed voice; the phoneme shapes of your days are beyond true. Your cadences, your consonant memory, real. Real and growling.
Push them from the nest.
Aren't we taught such shrinking arts? Galleries full of Neoclassical renderings, Herculean labors poured into un-recognition, a standard edited existence so clinically life-like. There's names for colors outside the crayon box and them that don’t exist will be cross-pollinated, as it's the monstrous prerogative to tear through walls.
Therefore, howl at the goddamn moon.
Feed what wants speaking. Admit your trickling saliva tastes of chimera, like it or not. (You will. You will.) Whisper at first if so need. Denial is a sickness unto itself, but there is at last a cure. Pray. Tell. Utter monstrosity.
Jason Baltazar
Jason Baltazar is a proud Salvadoran American originally from the Appalachian corner of Maryland. He is currently finishing a PhD focused on speculative fiction and postcolonial studies. His work has or will appear in Boston Review, Wigleaf, Wrongdoing Magazine, and other venues. For more info, check out his website: www.jasonbaltazar.com