025

Appease, the graduate students. Just pretend, that you went there, imagine this, were that. They gratify/sanctify, themselves? The people, who hung out, there, were very sexual. Uncle Tom, is picking his nose, and acting nervous, and peculiar, off in the distance. Remember the first time, you heard about [*]? With one girlfriend, in rehab, and another, in the hospital, I wait. I tied myself up, somehow, and now, I can’t undo the knots. I kept my monkey, on a leash, and I, was the monkey. Challenge yourselves, more than this. The equipment, has been destroyed. We’re tired of modern, “coming of age,” stories. And, we have liftoff, or, its closest approximation. The smell of firm, is a sexual smell. Take a hard line, with yourselves, only. Work your ass off, at something that matters, for a change. Mornings, are an option, something, not necessary, they can be done, without. You may be near, being able to see, where everything comes from, these days. I have one of those coughs, that don’t stop, again. I’m trying, it might not look like it, but, I am. I let things spin out of control, and can’t put them, back. Creativity, can be a disorder, if not applied, properly. Let me get this straight, you did it, to “get it all over, and done, with?” Teach (go higher up) someone, something, come on. There is nothing here, move on. “I messed up,” became a way of life, at some point. The dishes, have been done, as have, a lot of other things. The whole thing, is like, this. Give me the tenderizer, I don’t need any, ballyhoo! Have a piece, of pie. My hopes, centered on an awful lot of money, coming my way. An incident report, was, duly, filled out. I jumped off the roof again, today, despite all the promises, that I’d, made. Overcome, the disease. Good, and bad, overlap. The pencil, can never be sharp enough. It’s that, or this, well, I choose, that. The main problem, is that everything, will get worse. We think we know, but, we don’t. All you really need to know is…I proclaim that I don’t care what happens, anymore. When stripping, do so, slowly. Long, nervously, despair, quietly. My life, the whole thing, just got away from me, somehow. The smell of mildew, and humidity, is suffocating me. Please, believe me, I’ve felt more than, wrath. The bank is always closed, when I’m finally able, to go. All the dogs, gave paw, to indicate they were waving good-bye, to the cat. We need new tools, new techniques, some kind, of different way. Maybe, just a short nap…There isn’t anything to write. The secret life, was all too, public. Why suppress, and repress, give in, give out, fuck off? What sort of animals, are we? The hub, of the hump, and over. Slip some philosophy, into the prose, from time to time. Ho-hum, go the college kids, yet again. We leave early, every chance we get. If you hurt me, I’ll hurt you, back. Nonstop movement, of the hand, is all this, is. Just a short stopover, on our way to the Orient. This is torture, and the worst part, is not even knowing what it is, that’s tortuous, about it. Where in the hell, have you been? Let’s cheat on each other! Don’t you all want to be a part of something, that will be with you, forever? What are we doing, this weekend (nothing)? Your neck is irresistible, for many reasons. Every afternoon/morning, is the exact same. Cleaning has taken place, the buzz, centered on the media blitz, surrounding Timothy’s, Bar Mitzfa. Put me in the hole. Urinate on the old boots, laying in a pile, over there. Some assembly required, after having fallen apart, too many times, to count. Hand holding, quickly becomes fist (fucking?) clenching, and waving, hitting. Let me stay here, you’re the only normal people, that I’ve encountered. Don’t take no guff, from nobody. I am going to attack you, with written permission, given, beforehand, of course. Wander from room, to room. Diss, the all-out, annoying, crack house furniture, rub two sticks, together, the nonsense of, “the ritual.” It had a nice cover (reason for purchase). Turn that damn, machine, off, show off your accent. Shall we tour the ruins, of Corpus Christi? We’re emotionally, empty/rabid. This is entrapment, that, used to be, a grocery store. Things are taking far, far, too long. Blame the rich, for all of this. Try to write, in complete sentences, “writer.” The note she wrote me, is still in my overcoat pocket, unread. I fucked up, I apologized, to society. We are required to live our lives. Get lost, you face! Cherish the memory drawer, turn it upside-down, dispose, of all of it. For the rest of your life, you will live by that tingly feel, a few seconds, can change your life. Martha, I made out with you, in my dream. Why must I continue, to touch, and stroke, my dick? For an entire Olympiad, I’ve been terrified, and paralyzed, by what, I do not know? To bathe, is to be naked, which is, “not for me.” The song, reminds me of more than I can remember. So many soft drinks, so many broken, incense sticks. Since six o’clock, the sound-alike, has been making crank phone calls, to the boss. Silence, is the answer, to every question, posed to me, lately. I’ve begun to “make the noises,” again, I can’t even believe it, myself. Sweat, leads to information, loneliness, is the lump in your throat, that won’t pop. Shit, this is a wet spot, that can’t be ignored. The exciting game, just didn’t seem that way, to me. “To teach you a lesson,” I became this blathering, idiot, slowly, over time? Relevant questions, were asked, geez, don’t go down into the cold, deep, coal shaft, alone, without telling somebody, first. Without a whole lot, of help, none of us, will make it. Take it to the next, level. They’ll giggle, when at a loss, for words.
The dead, have their own agendas, as I, myself, can attest. There are too many icons. Stop being a criminal, before it’s too late. We can tear out the pages, left unused. Every seemingly, innocuous, fuck over, has extreme consequences. There are no undertones, or overtures, now. The studio, is littered with drug paraphernalia, that, answers a few questions. You probably should have, written larger, in retrospect. Now, we can’t feel our limbs, at all. I’m not a problem, or, am I? What we want to destroy, is what’s destroying us. The charcoal pit, ain’t fit, for diggin’, not at this time of year. She refused to even look, which is fine, I guess. It’s the same thing, wherever you end up, going to. Belching dill, belching dill, you can start “filling in,” now. When you’re noone, nowhere, start something. We think things, we shouldn’t, that take up too much energy. We’ve had just about enough, of being fucked in the ass, by each, and every, organization, or group, that there, is. Their pies, are nearly, a foot tall. Snoozing away, someone nearby, making sandwiches, for a picnic, I’m, sure as shit, not going to be attending. This is like electrochemicals, misfiring, out of a rusty gun. Sex, is fun, rubbing, until something. All this stuff, doesn’t add up, to any kind of unity. I look, and sound, like a cartoon character, we need a cost effective way, to get the gospel, out. Get on the sleigh, and just ride it, down the hill. Technology, does not matter, people did without it, before. We’re washing the walls, once again. So excessive, none of us, really, have anything important, to do. There is no truth, to the rumor, that I cut the tongues, out of cat’s, mouths. Who ate all the string cheese? The key, to the secret, of hating others, is to hate yourself, first. Don’t we all, pretty much, know what to expect? As we shrivel, and clam up, desperately, crossing, and uncrossing, our legs, no one enjoys themselves, much. If this be writer’s block, it isn’t so bad. Drink too much, at the club, the train station, what does it take, really? When in doubt, we reach for whatever, it is, we’re addicted, to. Too expensive? The rag, he used, was filthy, yet, thrilling. We need one, perhaps, two, ceramic ashtrays, for the front of the store. The sound of the grill cover, being lifted up, and put down, lifted up, and put down, again. Midnight (fail, on purpose), don’t please, nobody. Don’t keep too close an eye, on the weather patterns. Maintain cash, stay sad, and lonely. If it weren’t for the hope of sex, most people, wouldn’t do, anything. Let’s go, honky-tonking. Bridges, were designed, with suicide jumpers, in mind. There is no rhyme, or reason, to most things, that doesn’t make us, demand, that there be, any less. There are still a lot of loose lines, to toss. A life of leisure, is too much work, for most people. It’s at the bottom, of the well! Don’t be, a loon. Fall into, the horror. Things, will get even, weirder. I’m, fucked. There isn’t anything, to go chasing off, after, that you’d want, if you caught it. Thousands, of candy, “be mine,” hearts. Are those, your, shoes? There is no time, for digging, now. A whole lot of people, aren’t going to be showing up for work, tomorrow (there was a sting). Now, six hours, of, Don… Let us rant, and rave, about our, ruin. My teeth, do not, feel. No playing, in the driveway. Give, more than you take. This country, has been done, for forty years. The anarchy game, was a sordid exercise, in futility. They are all, mechanical. They would check our feet, at the pool (?). The shingle, did not appear. Take a good, long, look, at all of your mistakes. There is not enough time, in life, to do what you want, to do. The asphalt, is so fresh, so real. We don’t have any roots, if we do, they don’t matter. You’d better, get on that train! Occasionally, the human brain, stops working, that is, doing what it’s supposed to do, performing it’s, function. It sounds like a machine shop, inside my head, metal being scraped, cut, dropped, melted down. In all honesty, all I wanted to do, was slit my wrists. The blinds, were closed, for good. Is everyone, in the convenience store? The book full of leaves, fell, for some reason. There isn’t a man, woman, or child, that won’t be dragged off, this time. Here comes Jesus, what do you know, after all these years? Dreaming, is stupid, when the enemy is advancing, on your foxhole, believe it. Ensure that the baking, gets done. What’s not written, in this book, is what I’m looking for. You will use the photograph, I took, for the cover of this book, or else. Format yourself, right under the table. Farms, are more beautiful, than strip malls. Dear readers, if indeed, there be, any, we should be more careful, but, none of us, will be. Go out, and get it. The grocery store, used to be so exciting, most things, are, when you’re younger. It’s all our own faults, we create, allow, or produce, all the shit, we have, in our lives. Straighten the books, this is important. Nobody went to pick up their awards, at the cake/dessert, table. We can’t let everybody, know what we’ve got, if anything. No one should fuck, anybody else, here, naturally, I don’t mean this, literally. Spin around, whatever form, that takes. How can we dissuade vandals, from wreaking havoc? We’ve decided not, to try to, “live.” What, “good parts?” We’re out for some pathetic, revenge. We won’t really, be remembered. He used to cmplain, a lot. He knows, all the teams.
Accept nothing, do not detach, do not be content (no matter what). That chicken, was not, going to be eaten! Music, seems designed, to force us to eat, when we don’t want to. To the midnight shift, and beyond, before, etcetera. To asshole restaurant owners: dishwashers, are human beings. The abnormals, aren’t, really. Why even wake up, half the time? Don’t forget to spend twenty dollars, on popcorn, and snacks, the next time you go to the theater. Behavior, along the edges of extremism, your checklists, mean nothing. Find the things, that mean a hell of a lot more, now, than they did, when they were made. A novel, just isn’t my bag, things should end, be done. With the way that they wasted time, there is no hope, for them. The shit in your pants, will dry, don’t worry about, not wiping, properly. I do all that I can, and then some, and even that’s, not enough. You’re entitled, to your insanity. She was, allegedly, killed in the waif room, twice! One day, is indistinguishable, from any other. What basement, were you pulled, into? The revisions, must be made, moreover, they must be, implemented. Difficulties, of the present moment, someone yelled, at someone else. Make a movie, about the Pope, giving the edict, that there is no God. My plan, didn’t work, I didn’t get the job, for the hundredth time, now. I don’t know if I should even carry on, writing, at this point. At this time, Japanese interior decoration, techniques, may not be relevant, concerns. I got identified. Escape, isn’t possible, we return, we always go, or, come back. He must have said please, to her, thirty-two, times. Buildings, bindings, she told me there were three ways, to turn on the light. There are no real, differences. What turns us on, is our own heat, escaping from our bodies. Just breeze through the storm, like the wind. Be fundamentally, blatant, everything has been scrubbed, twice. I was labeled, as having some difficulty, early. We’re weaned, and reared, to believe in lies, and, to consume. Three deer, on a hill, makes drivers go slower, through that area, from then, on. The company’s reputation, is at stake, here! I am a criminal. We think only of ourselves, sometimes, a fistfight, is the only recourse, we have, left. There is so much neglect, I’m tuned into the wrong station, entirely. When we flex, it becomes abundantly, clear, how inconsequential, we all, are. The Sun, and Moon, tortes, have been consumed. Some of these foolish ideas, flights of fancy, pies in the sky, the men’s, and women’s, bathrooms, are the same. I’m sick of taking the jobs, that nobody else, wants. So poor, that I tape my pencils together, when they break. Just take the three million, out of my check? Do not cheat, or fudge the data, on your personal, score card. Adapt, to survive, appreciate steadiness (learn to). Somehow, in some way, I have been contaminated. Entertainment, isn’t very entertaining. What, larger context? Truth, is generally, made to order. It all spun, wildly, out of control, at some point, along the way. Remove me, from this sickening carousel, called, culture. Becoming a millionaire, isn’t as exciting, as most people, would think, it’s hard to describe, exactly. I kicked the window, in, for no reason. Just like sunshine, not anymore. Maybe your company, will send a floral arrangement, maybe, they won’t. Someone, is yelling. Our inabilities, make us unable. There must be some fundamental, dysfunction. Don’t play darts. The cabaret, has been cancelled, we’ll just keep doing, what we always, have. Pave the street, take the penalty. Sometimes, you want to turn the wheel, directly into oncoming traffic, other times, you don’t. It’s up to you, how much time, is enough, to spend, on your hands, and knees. Those are some pretty wild, fingernails. Focus, clearly. We’re the poster people, for the dead. “Show us your tits,” the college boys, catcall, proving, once and for all, that their parent’s education funds, are really paying, dividends. Weird, computer punch cards, sculptures, of sixteen, melted, mangled, crucifixes. Let us just, get our foot, in the door. All this, for $1,500.00. The intermission, was comme ce, comme ça, or whatever the hell, the word, was. Those with pressing, social engagements, are fucked. It was a giant, porno shop, with a crazy, flashing, neon sign. Things have a tendency, to overlap. Yelling at yourself, doesn’t solve your problems. When given the opportunity, people will say cruel things, indeed, and you will remember them, at the most inopportune, time. Perhaps, I am strange, or weird, I just hope that it’s going in the right direction. It might be, too late, now. Wide eye’s, stay open. Four days, twenty pages? We still need to change, so much, learn, so much more. It’s made, of metal. It doesn’t fit, the formula. It’s not, possible. I don’t know if the act of completion, feels good, or not. It’s all wrong, too damn, often. We surfed, the curly-cue’s. It makes sense, sentence, by sentence. The ninny, went blotto. You do not need, anymore, inspiration, or, motivation, etc.