They want us, to be them, say, and do, strange things. It was a seductive hello, for sure. I can see through clothing, all of the sudden. Some watch, some participate, all, gratify themselves, in some way. It may very well be, time to put an end to this. Run into the upside down, flagpole, or whatever, escape the personal pronouns. Watch for the tricky curve balls. Constantly, here, always telling lies, in order to cover up the laziness, and the…what was it? If we can’t think on our own, for ourselves, we’d best get out of the way, slob out, work, until you’re dead. Don’t ever say what it is, was you were going to say. Leaping declarations, so gone, for good, hello, back again, goodbye. We’d better not embarrass them, with the things we write (oopsy-daisy). This is no picnic, she was no good lay, dates, and times, and numbers, were written, never thought of as being, our next ten years, we were diagramming. My goal is to ask the thousand and one, unasked questions, and to die, happily, without any answers, having ever been found. This dizziness, this drunkenness, this terror, that horror. These are the prospects, of an abandoned man. Don’t ask me how my writing’s going, if it is, find me, when it isn’t. Cowards (beautiful), who enter the contest, not expecting to win, understand, that it will all be forgotten. A lot of energy is expended, trying to explain silence. It’s (the book) never done, it will never, be done. Tearing, torn, worn out, ripped, was what were we talking about, while the food, slowly digested. Petty, pretentious, unable to understand any of the words that were sung. Quiet me, see the trembling, and exuberant, perceptions, for what they really were. There was another one, the one with the baby, that I had to help re-bury, because it, “hadn’t been done properly,” the baby, had no head. Not as much compulsive, or impulsive, but still, exceptionally, obsessive, inquisitive. No matter how many people weigh down the atmosphere, it won’t collapse. The scenery was lovely, as was the decidedly, “cowboy feel,” to the coffee table. Betrayal, only bothers us, if we know we’re being betrayed. Long dreams occlude, sidewalk cafes, no one will hire a freak. Believe in what keeps you alive, sometimes. It’ll all be reused. You can read what you want, in their eyes? Flesh out the imploding. Driven out of Big Sur, frozen out of Denver. Gleaming, corporate skyscrapers, begin to topple, bend, and fall. It’s exactly as if this insanely, humungous project, was never begun, every day. People have no idea, what animals, are all too aware of. Finished, was a joke, what am I going to do with this? The pharaoh, reneged, as we have. Wheel your ass around this way, we’re as great, as everyone else, and as small. What do you think of clams? Put it in the proper receptacle, drive there, perform strange rituals, back home, again. Step out, aloof, call a drawn mark, a mark. The undeniable conceit, that it takes to write down anything, is getting me down. After all we’ve been through, it’s just too much? Creepy, crazies, fuck you up. More, and more, slippery, more, and more precarious, this is a new, “no holds barred,” kind of water fountain, we’re drinking from. My struggle has only just begun, four years after, I thought that it had. In fact, it probably still hasn’t even started, yet. Got to get to the Kiev. And those long since abandoned, spider’s webs, over there; drown, drawn, quartered, nickled, dimed, ended. The sky is full of geometric figures, that aren’t really there. There are lies we tell, about things, per se, having never really bothered us, as much as they did. I have, once again, forgotten my lines, I wanted to do quite a lot with this thing, and I’ve ended up failing, miserably. Go and make another great, big mistake, seeing how the last one wasn’t great, or big, enough? Rubber legged hill, was a home we never lived in. A bass is a fish, and we hold it aloft. Handmade, homemade, hand me down, crepes. Sound preposterous? What else can be done? Turned down, turned on? Aha, is a rare occurrence, these days, all of these confusing meetings, feeling nothing, fighting, and slapping. No, nobody cares. Subhash, is a millionaire. Pulling taffy, just seems so sexual to me. They are building another mall. But still, I never gave up. Most, just won’t cut it. We suffer, without cause, or reason. These notebooks are revolting, at close range, or at a great distance. We invent, all of the problems, troubles, we have. Nowhere, is wheresoever, you may happen to be. All he wanted to do, was smell women’s feet. SASE, enclosed. It’s a law of science, but that doesn’t make it any easier to take, when everything falls apart. Statutory rape, sodomy, crutches, and wheelchairs, I’ve got the collar, and she’s got the leash. She is on the periphery, of never-ever land. Enclosed, you’ll find proof, that we have nothing to lose. All of the signs at the supermarkets, are advertising the wrong prices. The bill was addressed to me, and the law says that I must pay it, and I’m not talking about Congressional actions, here. Actors needn’t stand in, for the kind of anti-service, that is being dished out. It is constantly, and consistently, harder, more difficult, to attempt to escape, than to face up to, being in the hole. Perhaps, life is just, perhaps it is unjust, I don’t think it’s either. What are these dominant, orange colored, expressions, cast off into the void? You broke the glass decanter! They do so much harm to us. Flit, from finger, to finger. Forlorned, at the end.
What was that thing about the number one, jerk off object? You tried to use the word in a sentence, without any connotations? Piss them off, blow their minds, forget about those sunglasses. Sullen, sunken, graveyard hopes, no real talent, no real, vested, interest. Let us really talk turkey, now. Large hot chocolate, to go! Air your ideas about side projects, things you can’t do in the real band. Beyond decadence, and desperation? I’m not really crazy, I’m something, but, not really crazy. Frozen water, equals ice, I can’t be me anymore, and everyone knows who I am. The curtain falls; no matter, no worries. I want nothing, no one, coffee, collapse. Our body posture, is controlled, we don’t communicate the reasons directly, we usually don’t notice, that they’re standing next to us, or staring at us. Prejudice, avarice, hatred, brutality, a large bowl, full of removed tracheas. The only thing that’s wrong with you, is that you keep asking that question. As far as I can tell, we’re getting clunky, clunky, Houdini. Lips, all of the sudden, polka music, kicks in, all of this, is lisped. Stunning, splendid, love me, dump me, empty, to full, full, to empty…to refresh oneself, is blasphemous. Shall I start crossing things off? By losing, we somehow manage, to win the game, in which there are no losers anyway, sort-of. Burden, some lessons, accents, newspapers, where were we, way back then? Convinced of the effectiveness of anesthetic, zero, is one, and one, is zero. Responses, amiss, dialectic, becomes propaganda, ignorance is knowledge, everything is swell. Antisocial schizoid, ha, ha ha, many delusions, many, many, deletions. Please combine this above part, with this, page fifty-eight. Patrol the airports. The first page, teenagers on a sleigh, going so slow, no one knew they were moving. Too much room, on the bottom of the page. Blinders, and relaxation, the traffic has grown, the country has gone. Someone stole the canoe, raw materials, burning, the-oh, I thought I saw something happening, sort of a bow and arrow target. A parade begins, and ends, people turn their necks, so they’re heads can see, what is going on. Put your seat belt on, heavy metal, yee-haw, heavy metal, yee-haw, no one can pass, illegal, whatever. Can’t be logical? Crazy, delicious, mad, and nutty, pies. We’re better off, with flux, and flow. Burn down the Pizza King. Take that out! Not one thing, equates with the next, in life, or art. Chewing on aspic, in order to get up the nerve, to drive right through that chain link fence. Who are we, to do so? Do so, do see do, do, or die, pie, lift the glow in the dark meal, towards the sun. Writing, is vomit, all over the place, outstretched, wah-wahs, thumbs. Search, and never find, ask how the magic trick was performed, rather than ooh, ahh, oooh. The complex tubes, and passageways, crabby, uninspired, different every time, all the time. Grounded is buried, it’s happened again, they’ve found me, again. Well rested, frantic, neither doing, nor feeling, and not caring, regardless. She doesn’t like me, so I dare not put my hand on, or near, her molasses. The more specific the subject, the more probability, for interference. Liken this to the shame of being truly real. They say, the only avenue open to me, is the vanity press. It’s much better to be alone, than to drag other people, into what we go through, are, were, or will be. The goal was to create a real work of art, no bullshit, no filler, no fluff, lies, hyperbole (burp). Asexual, books, and pencils; nerds are always nerds, no matter how pretty girl/boy, swan/sunshine, they wind up appearing. To an extent, argument, confrontation, subtle. I was at the luncheon, in the passenger seat, but I was not present. Worry, nevermind, is the process, it would appear. Fake, sour, candy, stranger, sweet; how could I have ever done, what I did? No other intention, but to pester, and annoy, remind. Scraping a razor, over already existent, scars, and wounds. This has something to do (utter madness?) with…where was that? We must change the locale, and change it, often – what a shame/sham/take it for what it’s worth. Not Hegel, and certainly not, Heidigger. These… constant, contact, aches. Disregard the bizarre, and the strange? Not if you know what’s good for you. Cameras sure can capture, a something. Butter, change the batteries. We’re going to pretend that we are VIP movie stars, when we drive. You wanna see crazy, I’ll show you crazy. Half way to Dundee, wherever that is. Roll over, say no, let yourself scream in a cornfield, tell supposed, secrets. Sure, she was pretty. Not Russian, or sober, travelling down the tributary, midflight disturbances. There was just no way. The years are getting, seeming to get…shorter, and shittier. This “kind of” acceptance, is just not real. No one is any more refined, as a dog, this will keep occurring. Right them, or wrong them, see what happens. The scars, are from injuries we’ve sustained, brands, from our stalkings.
The lines on our faces, are getting etched in, and permanent. We haven’t lost anything, we wanted to lose. Should I drive to the Dingo, yet again? No need to move, I had a dream, of three hours of road travel, four on a plane, a few city planners, out boxes, a cross between surface tension, and the mumbling, homeless, mentally ill, that the state government, threw out on the streets. Watch more porno! We’ll bake it into a pie. No point, no counterpoint, no scratches worth itching, nothing to get excited about. We all have a frighteningly lot, in common. Staying alive, for these solemn, two week intervals, between paychecks. Quit drinking, before you have to. I still want to find those missing threads, those things immediately adjacent, usually, poisonous. I’m only interested in what I’m doing, my little projects, which is only my way of saying, that most of you, are just going to keep fighting your wars, protecting your investments, sheltering, shattering, downsizing, and fingering each other, for something that may lead to something else, if the cards are all laid down, in a particular order, and nobody gets the urge to scratch something on their side. See, it’s a game of solitaire, but there are dozens of people playing, the same game, at once, with you. Take the clipboard outside. Loud, and clappetty-clappy, from time, to time, until the urge to remain, lifts off, the well runs dry, again, the handle is jiggled, before the toilet is flushed. More than a jigger, needs to be added, to the sad tale of addendum. At this point, I shouldn’t still need inspiration, and cramps, silence, or ritual, of any kind, alas, aha. They say that garter snakes, don’t bite, well, they never saw me shaking that thing off my arm, apparently. There are consequences, that need to kept in mind, before beginning your “live life to the fullest,” phase, take my word for it. I long for certain types of rapport, that I had with certain people, in the past (from time to time). It’s a type of mind reading, and communication, where more is being said, than is and both parties engaged, know that this is occurring. Death, so sudden, revealed slowly, to think, we thought, we wouldn’t wigwam out. My pants were torn. I’ve had just about enough, it’s past time to go underground, again, there’s just nothing up here, no one out there. Time to ask for my job back, at the mine. The goal was, and still is, to fill these pages with frank, and pristine, observations, not to “maybe, someday”, manage the shop, or store? See, goals can be neither, set, nor met, by drifting aimlessly, from thing, to thing, without any direction, whatever. Did I swallow my gum, again? If you missed it that time, you missed it, man. Stay away from the television, it steals your thoughts. There goes my leg, the first limb, to fully succumb, to a lifetime spent, without health insurance. So, you’re a smart guy, an antagonist, protaganist, night shitter, crop duster, second chance beggar? Try to cry? I may shove you, into my fist. I tore some kind of tendon, and it doesn’t particularly, hurt, yet, but I can see walking funny, for a long time, and I already look, and feel, goofy enough, walking around, just having this face. Forget her, I don’t think there was even an introduction. All I do, consistently, is mope, smoke cigarettes, and ingest caffeine. They most definitely, did some insinuating. This place, all places, everywhere, so boring. Following my instincts, gets me to the two places in the world, that I can stand going, but they’re both restaurants, one of them, is a non-smoking restaurant. Fuck work, I mean, cash registers. I’m grinding in the back, chicken noises, anything it takes, to make the unbearable, bearable. No one seems to know where anyone else, is coming from, or what anyone else, means. To say that we share the same chains, is likely to elicit a startle response. I’m out of place, in line, or behind the counter, on a couch, or marching with one of those giant, turnkey, clock things. Out of place…hmm. A figure, coughing, because we want to get to know you, a few changes took place, it would be nice if things had changed, but I can’t lie to you. Back in the gnat infested, germ recess, romper room, the tape was returned, damaged, and late. You come, I’ll watch, I know I’ve already mentioned the lights, with dimmer switches, with a dark, moonless, outside, and the accompanying sense, that tonight, may pass, without incident. Fluorescent scars, up, and into, more fantasy states, falling short, a kind of pressure, in the far extremity, sick of waiting, and being in a perpetual limbo, if not now, when? The movie, and soundtrack, begin with an extreme close up, of one of those blue bug zapping things, and we slowly zoom back, to reveal what it is…the soundtrack starts out, extremely loud, so that the zapping sound is distorted, but as we pan back, we decrease the volume, synchronously, eventually, everyone will find out, that it’s a bug zapper, and not one of those other kinds of things. Take it apart, by section. Tomorrow, is sort of, today.
