They don’t even know what the name of it is. Soon, I’ll be begging alongside the road. Enter a (invent) new world. Admit too much, in the wrong context. It seems very temporary. Let out a bellow, for your dead relatives. I took off the protective plastic lining. Go to the church and tell them what you’ve done. He’s on rarefied air, see? I couldn’t stop staring at her huge feet. Freedom is quite stressful. I will melt. The miracle is that you woke up this morning. We’re trying to know (impossible). Be ready. No more good feelings. Shudder at the thought (any of them). Open up your texts. I patiently await my end. A different part of the brain is being used. Why are you always hanging out with your girlfriend? Why do we fear nonexistent entities? Let’s not play with fire. I am you, and you are me, we are one, together. He started writing, moaning, screaming. What I saw in her eyes was total. Pull the hair out of your nose. Shall we go to the show? They were real images, of fake objects/products. Like a long prison sentence… If we’re not, we’d better be. Pound it down, and out, flat. As for this thing, it is only a notion in my “mind.” Flick the pen cap, to outer Europa. Go get into a little bit of trouble. It will come all over you. No more well being. We usually just, “see how it goes.” Why am I always, urinating? It’s as if it were magic, confusing, very strange. Fresh enough, for ‘ya? Massive reforms, are required. Cindy stole my cup. Everything is happening at once. It will happen, be ready. My thoughts don’t equate to words. It’s just one fuck up after the other, with him. I want more than anything, to be the way that I used to be. Maybe, thoughts come from there. Enjoy being offensive. My pelvis was fractured by our vigorous lovemaking. Only 300 pages were saved. Every time I pull the string, maniacal laughter. Put back in, what you took out, right away. Flush the shit down the toilet. Read the unabridged version. You don’t know what I have. Something trickled out of my head. It was a disembodied fist, that hit me. She isn’t wearing any clothes, she is undressed. I heard something. Don’t do me like that. I’m not very funny. Why did we attempt to monkey bar our way across the ceiling? The food was terrible, we were lost. I thought it was all fixed up. The eggs are spoiled. Try a new life. It’s always the same. Nobody cares, except you. Plastic covered all of the furniture. Somebody went, yee-haw. Ring your bell, asshole. It was a threatening gesture. Hopefully, the end result will be different. Give him a good squeeze. She doesn’t know what to do with her tenderness? Make a play for the good looking one. Get as high as a kite, to hell with it all. The party favors have been put away. One day, you want to, the next, you don’t. Stop fucking (all of you). Plot two, leads to plot three. It has nothing to do with anyone’s life (guess?). I have a great need for X. I can’t stand my life. I’m a priest with a mistress. Unsteady, and beginning to sway, topple, and fall. There is a sheer, a luster, to the tabletop, a polished surface. Remote maladies enthuse us, see? Shame must have been my true objective. Lazy people never win, ease social tensions. Talent is nothing to be concerned about (it will be there). Too late? Never! I live in a cheap hotel/motel, I wear used clothing, I drink. Crawl in off the street, and beg for help. Call it a half education, what we received. On my walks, everything makes perfect sense. I got caught, lo and behold. Is this the third? Let me be the new and improved Jesus. Remember what Max said in 1848. Perhaps we’re all driven by impulses we can’t control. Omit the obscenity. You know it must stop. My thumbnail sketches were too synthetic. As for cynical hedonism, I know you. An outlet sale (I’ve sinned). There is no other way. Wide awake, all the time. She was quite naked. No cures, help, hopes, security, safety, etc. Nothing in this book, is new. Don’t you want to see things? Indecision can become habitual, constant, appealing. Live as if today were your last, you should fare alright (tomorrow, too). Filth, is clear. Totally prepared, or else. I’m too goddamn relaxed and content. To miss the dead, yet, go on. Explore those new camera positions/angles, etc. He gets famous, has cowboy worries and fears. Beware the next door neighbors. Contraptions, mentally nauseating. Everything’s been disturbed. Work with the sunshine, cup and orange juice, or whatever. The bottle seemed to move, somehow. Ah, our demands for job security. The filmstrip broke in the projector (we waited, patiently). I have dreams of lost books. Elude the rich, copy it down. I wish I smelled like a pet shop. Trifles, magazines, movie stars (we’re all distracted). Mental defectives, soy beans! Maybe, someday, I’m told I can earn up to, ten dollars an hour. It’s the 60’s! Our drama school days are over, thank goodness. I keep asking myself what’s wrong with myself. Holding hands and singing hymns is not for everyone. Is it gossip that we heard? We’re worried about what’s inside of our heads. It’s getting kind of late, as usual. Goofy, in all the wrong ways. Be sick of something. Be authentic, or else. He knew all of the math problems. I look like how you feel. It’s all, only part of the problem. They say there’s a money back guarantee, but not too many people take them up on it. My face is swollen (this is not possible). More bad news, I’ve come to another conclusion. The magic sparkles in our eyes, fade. We need a decent pair of pants… There isn’t any money, at all. Are we even beings, at all? Another view of July 1977, maybe appropriate. We’re involved in things we shouldn’t be (mentally). There is no chance that this could ever earn me money. Leave the college town, people. Try more hate (do more cleaning).
You are always eating porridge. It was a gas (past tense). It’s all so insane, use it, use it all. There is no phone sex, super sixth sense. Why do we think about sex, so often? With a Rhinelander shirt, and a cheese castle hat, I set out into the night. Put the jars up where they belong. The nun told me, that the show was on. This is “the suffering,” the prayer books, are closed. Open the window, my corruption is near completion. Flee into some epidemic, fortune telling syndrome. Chew it, like a pen, return from the navy yards. When they talked in the library, I didn’t even feel half. My lungs are imploding, the logos have changed, listen, I’ve been through this before. Most of us will never know love. So, this is how it works (it doesn’t). We falter, we wait in vain. She deserves to be adored, until the end of time. My dirty underwear, is over there, my dullness is killing me. It was an old pie pan, go ahead, rush to judgment. The weapon of choice was tin foil, while disguised in paper bags. I am sixty years old, and in the first stages of menopause. We clean, the next day, everything is dirty again. Nothing that we did there, applies here, in any way. You will be destroyed, they won’t try to find out why. There is a confusion that spreads, and shouldn’t. I can smell the Halloween. Real life, is over there? Be gay then, fine. Our big clients blew us off, it is going to be a lean year. My rage is so pathetic, weak, soft (it’s all bullshit, like most of my acts). The humor was drained out of this. The opposite effect of the desired one, is what keeps being achieved. The signs were all “just so.” They all betray, that’s what they do. Don’t do me that way, I’m warning you. We’re desperate, it’s a fact, that can’t be hidden. A terrifying horn, blew (the good times, end). No more revelations, St. Paul acts, silliness, horniness. People walked up and down the corridors. They mention low interest rates, I remember things, sometimes. Enter the subjective sphere of influence. The book (the what?). Come out of that orifice, pregnancy causer. It isn’t valor, that keeps us around, when we’re no longer needed. They will try to do things to you, don’t let them. Be alone (we all are), be done with ethics (same reason). Yes, two Tom’s. I may or may not have visited that place in a drunken stupor. Go (get into you) microscopic, be more wasted. We thought, and thought wrong. Happiness is a stones throw from the other. I want you to fuck as hard as you can. The ring of truth must come from some different kind of bell. There are no uninterrupted hours. It is probably your fault, that all this has happened. In a way, I remember everything (um). She fled… My pants were terribly stained, my mind, so diseased. I’ve always wanted to dance through the fields, in a nude state. The chaos and confusion, are results of something else. True speech, distorted. Spent pieces of graduate students, washed up in the shore. Do tell, who the fuck are we? Go to the outlet, and buy, buy, buy. The dinner was oblique, myself is sickening to me. What has happened before, is likely to happen, again. Be whatever you are (but, more fully). The shadow of the hand is not what we used to think it was. Talk some shit, even though it’s all for naught. Misery is more common than joy. Our “demands,” were publicly ridiculed. I need some more wood. What happened to the girl who used to work nights? It won’t work, nothing will work, now. The unknown, unbeknownst to me, was unknowable. It’s grainier out there than if we looked through the lens of some broken, out of focus camera. There is quite a bit there, but no time for it. Act like you’re in church. Maybe if I sang this, in soprano. I need a great deal of help. Befuddle the brilliant. I saw Santa, somehow, over there. I threw out the course materials. Random, wanton destruction (O.K.). Buy the damn farm (what’s the matter with you?).We never quite make it, to authentic. Tomorrow is my first day in prison. I just can’t stop (writing), it’s like drugs. Spread your legs. We’ll never get our day in the sun and clover. You’d better figure it the fuck out! Back in Detroit, and wasted. The toil and struggle, must cease. Try to be her! Ah, the puzzling predicaments we find ourselves in. We seek legitimacy, at our peril. Symbiosis is bought and sold, on the open market. See, I smiled at her, she didn’t smile at me (just played with my cheese). Look at the pro’s and con’s, of anger, rage, hate, fury, shame, despair. Never again, with thimble tits. This is being written in pencil. We’ve previously admitted to our erotic pasttimes. How are we going to survive all of this? Who the fuck do we really want to be? Destroy your foolish ego, be a pussy, be a retard. It’s a definite set-up. They all ask me what the book is about, I give a different answer every time. My aphasia will not allow me to see certain corners of the canvas. I have sought out to write the book that I have always wanted to read, but could never find. The muscles are moving, but I am not “whole.” Arun got tired of all the extra attention. If you blow it up, it’ll just look worse. She was the one shouting about debris slides. You were in, I was out, was how it generally went. We were all on drugs, drunk, and wasted. In other words, did he choose (good morning) martyrdom? Substance became probability, then, Jeremy. Even I, clutched at the Rosary (there is no solution, a miracle is required). Silence floods the room, like some in, um, well, water. A bunch of porno freaks stormed the storage sheds. She has her paws crossed. Scrambled, as if with an old meat cleaver. There was ample guano (earnest excrement) to consume, county lines were crossed. The vibrations were nonlinear, we bought a pumpkin. My amnesia had an element of boldness, to it. Pull your panties, down…
