Yes, I did get a ticket, over there. I’m at a definite standstill (what about it?). What I’ve got to do, is write more. Say bye-bye, next time. Fuck ‘em all. There is something wrong (long faces, phases) with me, I don’t know, or care, what it is. I starved myself, rather than eat in the cafeteria. Hurt me during sex, babycakes. This has to be perfect (and it won’t be). Being alone isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It’s off the marquee! When I close my eyes, I can still smell her, sometimes. We need more good pulls. Submit to submission. Excited to go out, full of verve, and expectation. How do young girls get so much of this kind of knowledge, so early? Little Yellow Fish, has been postponed. It’s what we know, not what we think, that makes all the difference? I thought that we would, but we never did. What is the point of writing down half of this shit? I tried to update and improve this, to no avail. Renege on all the marvelous things that you did. Man, all I ever did there, was drive around. It’s something that I can’t find. Don’t rage into anger. They came in the door, too quickly. It’s waving in and out of my conciousness. Who the hell lived there? The burden of being a sinner, encumbers me, down. It’s beginning to deteriorate, now. It’s been ages, since I looked at the old photos. Who will win the coveted Aristotle award? We’re all involved, now. They stopped talking about all the other hot chicks, when they got girlfriends. Don’t sit around waiting for inspiration, or anything. The crows are flying by, directly over the house. Even though I can’t do this, I’m doing it. Go surreal, don’t pause. Go back to 4-10-96, and do it over again. It must have all been storing up. It’ll kill me, as it kills me. The commissary (be the best, or don’t bother) has been cleaned. Its your chance, to win. Beautiful smiles, crooked teeth. Get to the “oh yeah’s.” Put (what is this?) some inside jokes, into the book. I don’t wave, or honk to the panda, anymore. It begins and ends, with nothing. Re-tool, rebuild, reload, release. My new sportcoat, is too small. Some amongst us, will never be able to get enough (or any, at all). Scratch both sides, rougher. We have love/hate relationships, with the neighborhood cats. I’ve become the fat and smelly man in the fast food restaurant, restroom. Howl! The town council is full of scapegoats and middlemen. His goal was to hurt people. The graffiti had to do with starch, and pigs who could swim. The Preston union, ended in revolt. As for the hot pussy, with tender petals, juxtapose that with women with their cold slots, slopes, and shoots. I don’t know what I’m thinking, or doing. Our needs were in conflict with straight edge, Ian’s. You could have cured me, but then I wouldn’t have written a book (thank you). Brush the eraser dust off the rough draft. My nymphomania became kleptomania. Let us proclaim the mystery of paste. Oh, I said all the wrong things. I want my old life back. We burned some shit, out next to the house. I never received a personality. Brace yourself, gird your loins. I’ve got to try a little harder (not this fried chicken talk). Get a real good look (oh, she’s got it). Transvestism is like the mirror hot dog. I’ve got to get up there, and install the weathervane! Don’t let them make you into a “positive thinking advocate,” they’ll all try. He was shitting behind a tree (that weird guy, who walks around). Pacifier, weaning, none of us are “cool.” See, I didn’t get the job, but I didn’t want it, either. Speaking of tree’s, they creak like my joints. Should I write more about my “into the woods,” ideas? Nose’s, fit for pickin’. Smell the sulphur of what’s past (busty). The best advice is always free. Do her like you would have done her, had you had the chance! I like you (look out). Put (set) up her picture, on your pillow. Three tree’s, strangulated to death by thick vines. It won’t do you any good in there (get on a roll). She/he, became the other. Slut/nympho, sharpened knives, hair sticking out. Now that I’m dying, all I want to do, is live (not surprisingly). Leave some mac and cheese. All I do, is blow little things from the sides of everybody’s lives, out of proportion. I dug a hole! Truck stop love/speed, got him going, to where he had to get. They’ll be checking up on you. The Polis in the springtime, flower’s blooming in the garden, the fresh scent of real air, and fertilizer. We’re down to the butt’s in the ashtrays, again. We visited a town, instinctively (but, which one was it?). I’m not paying some dickhead ten percent, for any reason. There is a rusty beer can in the milkbox (only). Nothing changes along the highway. We all rely on luck, and know that it’s unreliable. I got a lot, but not all! You don’t want to do what you’re doing, do you? Remember the good one’s (or try to). Go for the tattoo parlor, to hell with all of this! People have invaded what used to be the country, no more peace and quiet. My lies are becoming more harmful, to myself, and others. For the benefit of who I’ve forgotten/taken for granted, a song… The undecided never do decide. This is so boring, this writing business. Put in a new tape. When I look at my worst, I feel at my best. Stop ruining all the business cards, by writing all over them. I don’t like comedies, or “dramas” (so tender), either (in quotes). Don’t even worry, it doesn’t matter. What does he want now, a guarantee? Well the bagels were stale, but none of us seemed to mind. There isn’t time to read, much less, write!
There are still quite a few to go (oh, boy). All that I’ve forgotten, will haunt me, forever. It’ll take all you have, and then some. Be intrigued, yes, it’ll make you a little bit crazy. Don’t go back there, just because they gave you free gum. They make them into fish tanks. There are a lot of words, that are not in this book (that should be). It’s just too damn safe, around here. The days flit by, like single cell drawings in old fashioned cartoons. What it feels like, is a glaucoma. This is not sexy. It’s only there, when you’re sitting down, and writing it. We’ve experienced enough pain, shame, horror, desecration. Oh, hot coal! Real bad repeats, shamed me. Wait! They are getting a lot bigger, and taller. I pretended to vomit, in front of her house (good first impressions, count). That dance you performed, was highly inappropriate. Chew really slowly. Oprah, the Amazon’s, or the dot com people; will not endorse this book. Don’t you think she gets a little bit bored, waiting for him to get out of the bathroom, all the time? Well, it wasn’t a pleasure, but it wasn’t a burden, either. Youth, in Asia (euthanasia). Just keep working, something is bound to happen, sometime. We’d better think fast. The bad advice helps more than the merely, good. Where is the center? The greenhouse was just magical. Leave Wall Street, for good. You were high at rehearsal. This will be your final warning. By junior year, I was successfully snuffed/weeded, out. Take a picture, take a bow, check the meter. Connections, or corrections? I was a weird kid, now I’m a weird man. The trendy go to those soapshops. Patent pending (what a difference it makes). Don’t make me wallow here, in shame. There was another thing, that was even cooler. Oh, I want her (unavailable). There ain’t nothing, now. We need to go back to work (fuck no). Test pattern maybe’s, seem to appear. Is it early, or is it late? Clank it into shape, crank it out. They don’t even try to hide it, anymore. It’s smaller than bonsai. Rose must have cleaned up. There was cum, in a plastic bag, taped to the refrigerator. You know what it takes, now, do it. It gets to be too much. The hysterical laughter disgusts me. Danger, there was a guy on the roof across the alley. You heard what he said. Light the room. We went into the tabernacle (we weren’t allowed to). Divine fruits, strange dreams. The book took (final tally) six years to write, and there is nothing here, nothing at all. Those were the times for those kinds of things (then). I can’t deal with this anymore, I no longer give a fuck. Uh-huh? It’s the same, every place that you go. It doesn’t compute (this). It’s good to know how to iron. Maybe happiness, is all this truly is. We have too much freedom (none). Baby and teen stores. Ignorant, suspicious, left out, consumed, controlled. He’s looking for a party in St. Clair Shores. Some guy had a nervous breakdown. We’re all on trial for our ambivalence. Why was I (am I) such a dork? It said, market. We’re almost there, anyway. Feel the night, like a warm pair of balls. That’s pretty much, the whole song. It’s best to spread it out, but there is no goddamn time! I thought it was a typo, but it wasn’t. Mildew and aftershave, floor wax and sawdust, fresh paint and real soap. Be honest now, tell me straight out. Imagine the smells they left, in those rooms. Why did I take the picture in the frame, into the bathroom with me? It all gets harder to live down. By all means, be! Don’t allow it to continue, marry Ann. “Just not right,” is what they used to say about me. Linguine, or lingere? The thoughts of a sex fiend would seem unclear to you (nothing can be done for us). Why did I complain about what I used to complain about? He lived across the way. Laura Elizabeth, will you marry me? You’ve got to know where and how, to look. Our way, is foolishness. Perhaps I’m the character in the stories, now (highly fucking unlikely). They were all my sisters, but I was, um, dirty. The information packet that I received, was not particularly, “informative.” Man, we don’t need your “saving of the souls.” The house just can’t seem to be kept clean. So much is missing, that it’s not funny. They react with violence, if you refuse to remove your coat. We didn’t count on so many tongue exercises. Stay away from… well, everyone. Well, it’s as gourmet as it gets. He played by the prison homo rules. The bitch of the devil, always asks for it. The answer won’t be found. Blue quilt, with pink flowers. Groan into some semblance of shape. It’s better to starve, than to wind up like this. My out, will have to do with my insecurities (and the facts). Try it totally naked (it makes a big difference). They were (are) better. Was that a look of fear I thought I saw in those eyes? Grin at the fuckhead’s, make out with a tree. Wrench out a loop. There are a couple of double meanings in here, but not a lot. It all fell apart, and I was so excited. We’re depressed, amongst other things. Find it, like a hide and seek, look see. Reverse, just reverse it, please. The significance of all this, is in question. I have to fail as an author, first. We need to conserve. What the cabaret needs, is an old department store. You wouldn’t believe half the shit I’ve done (nothing out of the ordinary). There is no clear cut, structure. That was supposed to be there. The birds have all gone to sleep (who knows where?). Sex is better, solo. People lie, and a whole lot worse. I gave Gerta the bird, back there. I watched him chew the book. They destroy us, for no good reason.
The pageant is over, the travesty has just begun. The light hit the barn, just so (this is some solemn, amber light thing). The reeds swayed gently in the wind (we do find that we’re abandoned). There is no solution. Shave the hair in your ass, with these hi-tech laser treatments. What happened, happened. The table, versus that duty/obligation. I thought I was smart, see, I wasn’t. The stylist tried to make me look hip, which was a big mistake. It will all be brought out into the open. Have a hook, angle, or gimmick (word up). We live our lives, for the most part, as if we were already dead. Hubris had it’s hold on me, it’s aret¡, now. They said that the marble would come out in her poop. It’s as if I’m living somebody else’s life. Whatever I had, is most assuredly, gone. Too much was piled too high, and it all fell over. I do not exist (not that it matters). Too far gone for any sort of redemption. I can’t even imagine trying to explain myself, anymore. Explain, predict, control (all we can do anymore, is sleep). There are just as many mistakes this time. An animal was somehow involved. She had a bit of a fixation on bird’s. How can I even begin to explain my behavior? I want to prove you all wrong, in the right way. Put a towel under that thing, pull the handle, spill the beans, remove the dildo, I’ll get the broom out. We got very quiet, all of the sudden. Play tricks on your perspective. Alcohol is only the trigger, we are the one’s who pull it. Professor, do something, this isn’t working! My brain was melting, while the bed was dissolving, someone was talking, in the other room. I’m warning you bastards, publish me. Repine, recline, move the chair, and vacuum. We used to do some really weird things, long ago. This is not really my life, it can’t be. The barber pole will spin around, enhanced by special effects, and the very latest in sound technology. Permanent damage, is being caused, we never did figure it out. It’s a good thing the acting stage is over with. Wing it, badly, write on the index cards. It was a disaster (my life). Be kind of boring; so cold, so tired, so lonely (but, what are you, really?). You can read it as a tragedy, or a comedy. I want to do the right thing (no I don’t, or I’d do it). I guess I just want to do nothing, all day long. Stay away from juggler’s, they’re dangerous. I tore my pants again, I just can’t take it, anymore. We have got to start thinking in color. What sort of food is this, hippo? It’s like piss in the snow. Get down the Chinese lantern. This is what it must be like, to be excommunicated. They have squished in, faces! What we do, is look for mistakes. The champagne, caused me to act silly at the benefit concert. Leap year blew my gasket, made me ask for more. We paint, we’re bored. Destruction is always traumatic. We can work wonders, with lighting. Don’t bother to explain yourself. I only see in black and white (no shades of grey). I remember when… If I don’t get rich, I will be poor, there is no in-between. We don’t have, or want, a theme song (if I die, I die). Use your lips, sucker. It was her, and I didn’t mouth the words. My dandruff falls out of my hair, and forms an intricate pattern, on my shoulders. I should’ve taken up acting, painting, as opposed to this. A single rap, on the back door. The device is missing. Comb through the nets, for suffrage. They will forgive me, forget me. Who is going to sit around, and read? The little, green ape’s, came. We’ve got, “the shame.” They know, I have no idea, how. The landslide, made us sour. These are my shortcomings, for all to see. The odds of my ever being published, are very slim, indeed. I’m going to walk out of here, alive. Like little leaves, we shake in the breeze (thoughtless). The next real end, unknown. It takes to long, it’s too much work… We pondered aesthetics, wisdom, etc. I can’t really imagine myself, being a different way (I simply will not “make it”). I am to have no further contact with her, in any way. I even smell like (get over it) fear, shock, disorganization. All of the women were Macedonian, meaning that they were, “good to go.” You saw what we saw, but you didn’t see the same thing. Wish that you were elsewhere (stop it). You’ve got to imagine that it was really happening. I’m even weirder in person, please don’t expect much. See, we’re not going to get what we want. Every single person (generalization) in the United States, is fucked up, royally! I insisted on doing too many things, that were very harmful. Our lives are not our own, because we let them, have them. Don’t tell them a thing, they’ll use it against you. We’re goin’ to a palm readin’ (yee-haw)! Fight like a sissy, right there in front of the abandoned hotel/motel. Beer, bond-o, rage, scratching, marijuana, rusty cars…
