Feast or famine, my ass. The wet spot on your pants has dried. How can anyone, even tolerate it? Remember being tripped down the stairs. It ain’t cute, keep it out of your ass. It never ends, for the doomed. C’mon, man (common man). I’ll drive you, but I’m not going in there. Thoughts flick by, too fast to write down. I’m faking the whole thing. There are so many words. I found myself in a hillbilly front yard, you know the type. No, unless you want me to be. I will never be able to end this (I can’t). I’ve exhausted all of my options, it’s just like the tilt-a-whirl. Oh, you’ll look. Confront your issues, before it’s too late. It’s the same melancholy sadness, day in, day out. Boast! This is all so dated. I can’t tell you what I felt. Live people, going crazy, in wire mesh cages. We’re unfettered, but more trapped. Start the other sheets, with the add-on’s. They are professional manipulators, and passive aggressive. They use many, many chemicals. It’s all wrapped in plastic. This is about half. It goes on (what follows us). It will be the way that I tell you it will be. It’s fuck city, revised and revisited. There is very rarely a chance to say goodbye to them, before they go. Wait for the miracle of luck. We know what it takes (don’t do it). So many ways to rework it, so little time. Decent, he lisped, or was it descent? Well, we’ll see how that turns out. No matter what, I can’t get comfortable. The cruelty, keeps on coming. I can’t do this, I can’t concentrate. My face feels tighter (a lie). Too many eggs nearby. If you don’t “snap,” nothing will ever happen to you. I’m sick of the holes in my pockets, and the smell of gasoline on my hands. It takes too long (I can’t say/write this enough). Try to understand Birdie’s lament. As far as personal relationships, fuck that. We’re not where we want to be, we want to learn and be, more, do more. When in doubt, I write, I am always in doubt. It’s all poison. Down by Mercy’s pleasure zone, I had an idea. There is no joy in it, anymore. See through the triple action. This is the twilight of my discontented years, or else some real shit is gonna’ go down, somewhere. Life is a lint trap. I got fat, again. It was a must have (aren’t they all?). Go to the vacant parts of the city. Ignore your problems, they’ll go away on their own. Just give up! What was that shit about touch and go? This is a marketing disaster, waiting to happen. It spilled down into my shoe. Ain’t it lastly (ain’t it juicy)? Beauty, long sublimated. I hate my hair, can’t remember, my digestive system seems to work too well. What happened to your folds? There is no chance, at all. Talk about something new. She wore see through plastic pants, pink panties underneath. We never will be ticklish. Penetrate, screw, fuck… sex… Well, she seemed to share a lot of information. I slick my hair with kerosene. The lights were fluorescent, the chaos experiment didn’t work. There is no forgiveness. Everything is so goddamn cumbersome. Leave it in the oven. The fraternity boys seemed to want to fight all the time, in retrospect, they were very well adjusted. What I don’t yet know, is that chopping things out, is the only thing that’s going to make this book readable, not continuing to add shit in. The claim was made, that I was a dadaistic nihilist. Just eleven more pages, and I can live again! The girls lined up around the block, for the opportunity to be an extra in the vampire movie. It’s up to me, to fix what’s broken, fill up the holes… Let’s rock (at once)! The sky is daring me, to disappear into it. You’ve got to do it, alone (nobody told you it would be any different). Nothing is free, for instance, this, cost you $25.50. I don’t have the strength to check on what is here, and what isn’t, not anymore. It’s too much work, but we’ve all got to do it, anyhow. Don’t reason with your penis. So many shattered dreams. Picking my nose is something else, that I just need to do, sometimes. Do you remember where we used to go? I’ve started acting like the retarded people, that I used to take care of. Stop, flip through it, and start reading and editing it. I’ll put the thing about the fat man and little girl, in the final version. Life really needs a little change, a small push in any direction. Thanks, Mom (thanks, everybody). We’re getting the p.r. gears in motion. Supposedly, it was only episodic. Don’t take sides, unless it’s both. I said something about the building. There is no ethics in the bus station. A huge, fat old man, showed his balls to a beautiful young girl. The old teachers don’t get the new lingo. Work on your acting range. Japan has it all measured, down to the millimeter/lower. Charcoal, all for charcoal! Scientific things were mixed in (brilliant). They pack such a punch (these flavors). Only red jelly beans, remain in the dish. We need blank pages. The self purification rituals, aren’t working. Fade into the drip-dry, hen house. We looked too closely, and saw that the lips were sewn shut. And if, after all, we fail, meet at the “secret spot.” I wrote a long book about sleep. The rich wipe their asses, with the poor. She said that her tattoo’s made her too conscious of herself. The dryness, the fundamental dryness. The lack of any get up and go, causes me to lie here, and mope. Where do they all come from? The wind kicked out the jams, time has passed by. We knew exactly what we were getting ourselves into. Vomit into the Rouge, digest the undigestible, shit in a hot dog casing. Say it, on the air! So much ambiguity, that I called it vulgar. Take big business, down. We know what doesn’t exist. Perfect bind it (glue). You spun the table around. The sit on the radiator weather, is upon us. Have some experiences, love that honey, lurch into the fetish/excitement. It’s permanently bent, it will get worse. Criticize the naive. Let me tell you, how it will be. There will be another Hitler. It showed the deer, getting shot. The curious soldiers didn’t last too long. Leave the kitchen, intact. It sounded like the garden shears. Was it a strap-on? I looked at those pigeons, long and hard. Blurt out something, to that man. Nothing that we did there, applies here. Must have got a hold of some bad beans. It just erased. Hiccup like crazy, like this. It’s a remarkable imitation of a tuning fork. We used to go down there, quite often. Nobody really does anything. While they keep winning, I can’t even wash myself. Make use of what’s left over. The slit is now open, you’d better jump in now, or else. If it happens, this goes here, that (the newest), goes onto the very end. What is the answer? It’ll all go down (it already is). Try to avoid avoidance. We live without purpose (please use the toilet paper). Unfetter us from nothingness (unfasten). Sniff the panties, laugh out loud. Chock full of new ideas, my ass got wiped.
It will take up all your energy, and free time, for no known rewards, whatsoever. Now, it’s the opposite way. I’m officially poor. It’s because we’re all idiots. My penis is limp, it’s over. Let’s avoid one another (you seem so distant, so aloof). It was like interconnecting what’s? Hop up onto the rock pile with them. Sign and initial, on the line. Flustered isn’t the word for what I was, that one time they tore my alibi apart. The spiel has been spun, the flickers have sparked off the sides. Try ether, your heavy metal dreams are over. The proofs for/of my existence, are flimsy (then, I threw the papers around). Just fill in the blanks, nothing else matters. Spend time in the basement, if you can. Pass the bong, too many repeats, I need that tool, new fears, old suits. There are no “people with the answers.” We are sinking under. I’m right on the verge now, there are going to be mistakes. Flip the car into the oncoming lane (keep your fantasies, fantasies). Paddle into the middle of the lake, and just float there. There is no immediacy, no millions forthcoming. How slow my mouth is, as I sank the wheelbarrow into the thawed out dirt. Stay involved in your little crafts group, really, that’s great. My fingertips are discolored, and bruised. Pink wrapping paper, was scattered all over the floor. All religions are but variations on a single, central theme. To perfect my “set-up’s,” I would close the door. There was way too much sentimental nonsense bandied about, regarding the Yule log. This will be redone, reformed (this will never be done). Much, much more… (what?). Flex pathetic, wax philosophic, wane, like a ghostwriter for famous people, in 1919. Go down the flower lined, solipsistic, junkie pathway. Though it may bore and damage you, keep breathing. The long drives don’t give me any camera angle ideas, anymore. Basically, I just decided to be it, do it, but I forgot what that was. Rub it into the chiffon (saffron?). Open the can (that is a real sound). Pain is what will shatter your mask, off. David was an awful lot like Ivan. Ride your chosen racehorse (dust), enough with the buttercup’s, already. Stop talking about it, believe in nothing. At one point, there were six broken down cars and trucks, in the front yard. Adjust the treble knob, try possession, try to avoid your own selves, be cold. I look over there, at the plank of wood, and wonder. Tear your crotch, will it into existence, end up trying on all of her clothes. They thought they were such hot shit, where are they now? Get hysterical, pounce, combine them, put them together, it’s like eternal recurrence, but, not. A squash was placed out on the porch. This is getting so crooked, that it’s sideways. They hid the long, steel pipes, I used formaldehyde, where’s the bat/the bait? The breakdown was caused by the stress of doing nothing. Oh, Lordy! Love as self delusion, volume one. I can’t afford a flyswatter. So many basements, to stumble around in. She thought she knew everything. There seem to be less. I must have pissed old William, off. A lot of times, trying to remember, will make you forget. Well, we’re heading to Texas Township. This was going to be part of the second book. It’s fucked up because people with money, can do anything they want. There were good people, I just never met them. How did it used to be, Ed? Everything seems to be stuck in the Kennedy years. My hands have been washed. It was another waitress, one night stand. Horses shit, so easily, not so, with man. Goo goo eyes can become torried affairs. Mars (?) needs pussy! I want to go to the rest home, and lounge around. The frogs are made of wire, the combatants are sponges. Alternate title: Fallen Oaks. I needed to go to the store, like a prisoner needs a haircut. We shot the shit. Blue hair, now or never. She waved her wand, and said everything would be better. The studio must become mist. Take the thing on, more elliptically. I mean, we actually used to dance. What are you(?), is what I keep asking myself. The dog pooped in my hat. It’s so simple, that we don’t try. Narrow it down, if you please. You can’t lose what doesn’t exist. Deranged dabbles, into nonsense. Slip it into her secret. Everything that is here now, was here in 1979. We’re all over the barrel. Lisp it, loud. Be annoyed, to no end. The best lines of a poem, are hard to figure out, or understand. We pretended to be the opposite sex. Create some more cut-out’s. It’s as if twelve year olds, were in charge.
Trifling, petty thoughts, before and after. The twins in the pornographic comic, just blew my mind. We took the dumb waiter up and down. A festival of more’s. Today, I am faster than yesterday. Gin, or vodka? The girls down the street, beat any starlet, hands down. It’s all out and total war. Our sentiments, parlayed. It was like sitting in a torture chamber, the terror was in the air. We need consistency with the word Goddamn/goddamn. She turned into another one (common). Take her pulse, shop for antiques. You are one of those/them/the others. Funny, huh, you think this is funny? I want to explain what contingencies of reinforcement and punishment, can do to you. It’s the circle of sorrow (that surrounds you). They didn’t believe (rightly) that I took the wrong jacket, by “mistake.” I don’t want to see what used to be there (lie). Broken toys, and mercury falling. There are too many rich people for any change to occur in this country. Stop purchasing (get pissed). At least I know what I have to do, now. It’s just a lot of work. Take a canteen with you. Tie up your horses. What am I doing this for? The stick got pushed in, automatically. If only my life had gone better…
