062

Stand, at all compass points, of the twisted, continuum, that is, depression. This, has got to be, the last word on, that. Apparently, the producers, of modern, comic books, want us to jack off, to them (often). Dick around, with it, in addition, to, letting it, stretch off, beyond the horizon. It is important, to know, all the lines, you won’t cross, in advance. The goal, is to piss people, off, I guess. There isn’t anyone, to tell our troubles, to, that would give a shit, unless, we paid them. I have dreamt, of many, escalators, but, never, one, quite like, that one. What sort of cure, or, medicine, can solve, these dilemmas? It is time, for all of us, to stamp in, new thoughts, and behaviors, to discover, different sorts, of habits. Thinking about places, to go, was taking up too much, of my mental energy. There aren’t a lot of (how can this, be?), (internalized, what?) opportunities, or, chances, for, any of us. If only, I had the guts, to end it, all, right now, be done, with it, but, alas, I, do not. My hand, is up your dress. The news, doesn’t matter, nor, do, the sports scores. Away, with the reflections, of love, we get, off the crystal decanters. We’re, “good customers,” the production techniques, would indicate, a methodology. Are you, sorry, do you, get confused, in the produce section? Something, has already, happened. Keep going, my friend, and do not, stop! Go ahead, and, fart. I refuse to throw my shoes, at the clock tower. The cat, lives, in a black, and white, illustration. My lack of courage, is why, I am, where, I am, and not, over there. Aim yourselves, like arrows, at what it is, that you want. It is perfectly natural, to drift, but, you’re not really, moving, when you let yourself, do, such, it only looks like, you are. The movie soundtrack, is one of those, frightening, shots, from the dark, that gets us, going. Use the chair, as a desk, use your desk, as a place, to store things, that you do not, actually, use. Shit, don’t stop, on one side, of the page, and leave the other, one, blank. Go out, and fuck your girlfriend, asshole. The anti-matter, is its own kind of matter, now. My current goals, are, to leak, and transform. Look, nobody, took a secret picture, of you, nobody, wants to, and nobody, ever, will. Try to remember, the ideas, for the preface, and title. Pay very, very, close, attention, you don’t want to miss, anything. My little, life, on, and on, and on, it goes, and where it stops, nobody, knows. Use real names, and phone numbers, but, uh. I am trying to fool myself, into thinking, that I am doing something, by spending hours, per day, writing. The sound, of my glory, is, pfffft! You messed me up, you’ve ruined my, Spanish/ Mexican, exercise regimen. Something, quite clearly, needs to go, here…go on, from there! I will continue, to scribble, and scribble, some more. My lusts, concern, leashes, and public spaces. If you’re already dead, you’re, no doubt, not very worried, about anything, anymore. There is absolutely, nothing, left, in the world, to write about, from this, particular, perspective. Did I ever cut my lip, on a punching bag, toy? The confusion, is, the clarity. Stop dancing around the living room, with an erection. What’s done, is done, but, many, keep, adding. I owe you, everything, absolutely, everything. Don’t let me write down, Marlon’s, real name. The clam mouth, that was briefly, opened, will close, again. Should I be embarrassed, about my present, condition? They hit your knee, with that little hammer (oh, hello). I’m chock full, of wanting, if not, writing. The trump cards, caused us to piddle, despair, wonder, wander. Winds, chimes, cloth, venison. Will I be arrested, for disturbing the peace, next? The cups, and lids (idle, promises), need to be stocked, again. Man, my skull, is pressing up, against my flesh, the muscles, aren’t taut, everything, is slipping off. The stains, on our clothing, tell a story, about us. My epidermis, is going through its subtle, shift, downward. Freeze your sperm, for use, later, not that anyone, will/would, or, should, want your sperm, as opposed to, anyone, else’s. There is no, wife, man! Choose, or, be, fucked. Once the daily chores, are done, the tools, that we use, to complete them, will be stuffed away. If only, it could’ve been, her. He got so drunk, he thought he was the quarterback, of the high school, hockey team (and, took to the ice). What’s got us down, is what’s holding us, up. Someone, was talking, loud. Sink down, right on top, of it… One week, until, the end.
No stopping, at all, for any reason, it’s, not going to, happen, I’d better, do, something, soon! Let’s compare (obstacles), and contrast, oil, and vinegar, piss, and soft drinks. There isn’t any time, to be a slow starter, or, take too long, to get to (or begin) anything. If you know what’s good for you, there is no way you would eat. Do not revisit, go on. I, for one. I do not need a, retreat, so much, as a punch, in the face. We don’t, necessarily, have a responsibility, to be creative, it’s more of an obligation, gesture, a satanic, koan, for the troubled. In the event of an actual emergency, what you are reading, right now, is merely, social commentary. This could have been, left, just as it was, and no one, would have ever, been able, to tell. Find your pen, shake your bones, increase your credit limit, earn thousands, reading books, at home. Don’t get drunk, and start saying things, in some effort, to impress people, because, you know, what happens, when you try, that shit. There is no news, that directly, affects, any of us, the news, is primarily, for them, and their petty, swabs, and swipes. The ex-lawyers, and physicists, are doing all they can, to live, cheaply, and, off of us. You take a risk, when you attempt to do things, in a new way, but, what use, is life, without, risk? It comes down to something, that the human eye, and individual, brain, are lacking. Start from the middle, and work your way, out, if it makes you feel, any better. I can still, taste the booze. One, at a time, seems to be, working. It’s as if, nothing, was ever, done. Like it, or, not, I’m, finished. You cried, like a little, baby. Try to get back, to the childhood thrill, of rolling down the hill. You, are goddamn, right. They are only interested in, hair care, products. They kill you, one, half hour, sitcom, at a time. Allen, made that fence, in 1973. This will be, how it, will, feel. In response, to your query, no one, will care. None of our correspondence, was, dated. Nothing improper, occurred. Common sense, is not, it is diametrically, opposed, to it. We all have a test, today, and it’s, in, just, getting through. Summon, a soggy, piece, of sponge, put it in your pocket, as extra protection. Fill in the final holes, turn onto Big Beaver, how did I wind up, so, screwed up? Satisfaction, is horror, suffering, pain, guilt. Everything got, screwy, we Jesus’d, ourselves. There are stars, in your pockets, or, eyes, or, wherever. These are my types, of sounds. Notice, how maimed, we’re becoming. I’m so sick, of this, cold calling, bullshit. The employer, said it was, “flexible,” it was as flexible, as a snapped-shut, iron, trap. I cannot say, that I am, in any way, interested, in what the flyer, advertised, as, “down home.” My effigy, looks like, a used tampon, wrapped inside a condom, on a stick. I refuse to write about, the wind, or, the stream, a rosebush, clouds, flowers, hope, freshness, softness, etc. We are all out, of toilet paper, again, and I have, to go. Smoke your way, out, of the wish fulfillment, curve. My psychiatrist, retired, his last words, to me, were, it doesn’t matter. The scouts, broke out all of the windows, in the old ladies, house. Accelerate, accident; clients, commitment, no carcasses, too much, electricity, not enough, clean clothing. Jumpstart, the sameness, have another, beer, push start, your car, move, far away. Like a big, ape, I will, suddenly, make strange noises, and grunt out, nihilistic, spasms. Clean this filthy, area! It’s the, angst. When you get to, “the top,” keep right on, going, keep moving. Fear, is the weakness, that we all, have to, overcome, above all, else. I have stuffed, all of my clean, and dirty, clothing, into the closet, so as, to actually, have, a floor, a carpet, in my room. When you live around water, people, will drown. Force some freedom, out of fate, worse…
Avoid dead air, be in the room, to push the buttons. All of our plants, are hearty, and healthy. Obsessed, with catching a bass, in a pond, too polluted, to fish, in…there is a stress, and anxiety, that only, loneliness, can cause. The woman, stood up, in the middle, of the crowded, coffee shop, and started screaming, very loudly. Every night, I sweep up, at least, a hundred, cigarettes, from the front of the store. I used to say, and do, stupid things. The last page, was originally, going to be, a big deal, full of all the stuff, that people, were waiting, so patiently, to see, the idea, fizzled out. Slink! Autumn, is good enough, by itself, those particular, commitments, were not, attended to. Night eaters, should tune into this, informative, program. Credit, debt, desecration, disease, there is a plan, for our own ruination, that each, one of us, is hard at work, on. I am just, your friendly, neighborhood, schizophrenic, and, I’m up to no good. The information, hotline, phone number, is easy to remember, so that, more people, than not, will actually, call it. The parade, has been cancelled, our beliefs, are addictions, different degrees, of the same, syndrome, as that of, a finely, crafted, lie. Any statements, that I make, are unceremoniously, unmade, but, aside from that, I rape, back. With our heads, tilted, at unusual angles, there is more of a chance, of there being, a possibility, of seeing things, in a fresh, new, perspective. Don’t harbor your own feces, release it. Thank you, for allowing me, to merely, survive, on this, one night, out of many, spent hopelessly, pointlessly, half-drunk, and exhausted. Remember, Gilgould (who?)! If you ask me, we’ve been pleasuring ourselves, long enough. Billionaires, sling themselves, through the unconnected, multiverses, universes, the first timelines, of the first book. There are as many ways, to do something, as there are, to say, forget it. Get them, all. It really, all depends, on the way, that we choose, to look at it, that said, it doesn’t matter, what we say. The key, is to be deranged, but, not too, deranged. My problem, is that I can’t sell, any, shit, to anyone. For as long as I’ve been seeking, distraction…it’s about, enough. All, and sundry, are getting on, with their lives, and doing, quite well, at them. It was, it was, now, it is just, asexual, flagrant, and egotistical, everything sucks…everything! There is no more, milkman. We can, never, be, certain, we can always, be, wrong. Don’t let another, man, touch your penis. Roll out the red carpet, for Fat Ron, and his hot, new, alternative, swing band. What sounded like a, chicken, was really, my, stomach. We’re getting there, it seems, we’re working on it. Are you going to do things, the way, that you know, they need, to get, done. Are you going to transfer bullshit, from one location, to another? The condom, was ill-fitting, all the dominatrixes, took opposite roles. Kumquats, gurus, camels, grapefruits, habitable, sidewalks, photographs, of philosophy. Marriage, is a terrorist act, the standards, of health, and safety, are lax. We are all out of hit points, this is the end. Stay away, from festivals. Honk your horn, at all the assholes! The antler, headlight, bulb, structures, that dead people, used to pose, in front of, are still there. We got it in our heads, to go, faster. We’re going to ride each other, until we’re both, so worn out, that there’s nothing left. The 50’s, are over, we’re in a tank. We’re fish, in a tank, we’re giving off, vibrations, my neck, sounds as if, it is going, to soon, be allowing my head, to fall off, of, it. Thank you, very much, we were a little nervous, never having attempted, to collide ringworms, hey, it’s a brand, new, plate! We never know, what we’re going to regret, until, afterwards. They watch, from over there. I saw, Susan Calamicci, jogging (twice).