Opinion, must be a replica of most all, assignments? Stop sitting around, and start, doing something. Later in the day, than is, perhaps, appropriate, but, toodaloo! Writing, reminds me of a dead body, in a grave, my dead body, in a casket. I was so touched, by what happened on that awards show. I say strange things, about my self-esteem, and confidence. Yesterday, I fell into a depression, that put me right to sleep. Today, I woke up at noon, and got right to work, cleaning the house. We’re almost to the end (just hold on). Secrets are leaking out. We get sucked up into the things that we promised ourselves, we wouldn’t. This is how it's supposed to be? Do not play punk rock games, at your age. Resentment is a tool, like a hoe, to be used, in the garden (of the mind). Being famous, is the fastest way to die. Who cares, what color your skin, or parachute, is, it is time to get to work. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, what's wiggling, and what's jiggling, so put the minimum amount of time, into this, for now, and then, get out. The house is clean, but the room, is filthy. This is going to be a long, drawn out, process, I had best concentrate, even harder, on my writing career, as well. My master, doesn't see my determination. All I say, is how hard, it's going to be, I don't even know what I've got. Why in the hell, does my hand hurt, so much? This shouldn't be happening, that, either. My ideas aren't working, there is very little hope, to be gained, from this position. She was riding a motorcycle, yes, I guess you could say, it turned me on. Then, today, some horny, hippie chick, of the kind, that blew my mind, then, and now, clean, and all that... Hiding the spot, er, the skin, worth it, each, and every time, worth it. Especially, the morning slant, on the whole icicle. Brilliant genius, well, I hope so; sex, oh, sidesaddling the motorcycle (horse), in Kalamazoo, of all places (over on that hill). In my condition, none of this, is going to ever occur. Right when I think dark meat/white meat, the whole turkey, is hurled across the room. Starve, baby, starve, no more grilled cheese sandwiches, garden parties, two of anything, cakes, shit around the house, or in the refrigerator, fast food, from anywhere. The time to begin a job search, was two months ago, not now. Well, there certainly won’t be any Washington, this fortnight. I'm too old, to be such a see-saw, weirdo, there is too much to do. Don't be digging around, either, to see what's underlined. All these companies, have horrible reputations. No to Mars, no to yellow jelly babies/ jelly's, etc. Anal, what/huh? Shit string, excuses, ways out, and silly stirrings, of worrying about things, too late. It was a multipurpose room, not, one thing, or the other. They look like they’re looking. Don't talk vulgar, penis talk, with me. Up on the table, everyone, up on the tables. Notes, and letters, court dates, checks canceled, insurance, and promises, newspapers, magazines, rust, dust bunnies, cats, and dogs, and the clods of hair, they leave behind. Turn your inner sensor, off, shuttle into the next trajectory, over. Trying to understand, what can’t be understood, is what drove me crazy, what’s your line? It’s a little bit, off. We don’t know what we think. Copy what you write in the margins of books, to another piece of paper. There isn't going to be no licking of the chops, now. Circle your favorite parts. We get by, we don’t know how. The ammonia based product, was left on the butcher block. Spiritual nothing, what, and all that... all that. We are really trying to undo our shoelaces, now. Two in one, must be separated, everybody knows who's going to win. There is no after party, for failures, who never attempted anything. So many movements, means an awful lot of fundamental discomfort, is going on. My thumb is one the chopping block, let's go. Well, that time that I faked a PCP experience, the bike on the railroad tracks, nutso things, then, about to throw them out, finally, returning them. Everyone has a thing, everyone knows their thing. Rambling letters, get the point across. There isn't any time left, for me to softly, get my life in order. My entire body, smells like ink. Non-stop inspiration, jot it down, stop looking back, in more than one way. Piles of paper, litter, important stuff (and the other). No more time for sorrow, and sadness, you can't shit, the shitless. The flashlight fell in, all the way in, like the orange peels in the toilet, like having, low impulse control, I've got to write several letters, and become as manic, and magic, as my bulb, will allow, or head, capacity. I can’t put everything I want to put in here, in here, it can’t be done. You were in the dance hall. Flow, marine, flow, marine, get it, in your own way, use hand gestures, find the talent, any way possible. The ubiquitous love affairs? Let’s act up! Don't pick up the phone, until the girlfriend has been fingered, constant talk of tits, naked, ass, feet, sex, the act, the grand finale, of the whole situation, concerning swelling, and blood vessels, capillaries, or blood/blue, down there, as well as here... and, with that. Listless, and lethargic? Do not feign lameness, oh, no, you, jump through, those hoops. The courage, so needed, right now, that I should have it tattooed on my body, somewhere. The books are thrown around, yes, but for the most part, they are read, first. Talk to fellow writers, about their own experiences, see, there is a definite, focus game, but it's a long haul, into something (and it's a bitch, like the bra-stuffer). The asbestos hall, we had to walk around. A lot of very bizarre, strange/good/weird/bad things, have happened to me, in the last 24 hours. Miles of manuscript, are being typed, probably, from a business, which no longer exists. Wigwam, probably isn’t going to happen, pfft. Cleaned, and completely reorganized, my room. You can only have Swedish princesses, if you’re... The cars, were both cleaned, recently, one, washed, and vacuumed. Pain is still in the desk slot, not that that, has anything, to do with anything. Showered today, say c-c- again, facts, driven home, more fully, later. Well, we know what is said, on the walks. I am definitely, trying to do too many things at once, right now, and even then, I’m bothered by all the things, that I’m not doing. Wait for a call, vacuum; what’s first? Oh, also, finishing this. I’m drooling out the left side of my mouth. Get up on the tittie, try to recall a few random thoughts, as they were presented, this morning. One, or two, phone calls, set my ass up, good, and proper, in more than one way. Yes, well, if an employer checked my references, I would never have gotten any jobs for which…etc. That load is folded, I think. There is simply, no time, to toss off on bell curves, let’s get things straight, now. Find the…don’t put this down…find, nobody wants to be reminded, of their fears. Completing a long list of duties, dutifully. Must, is the battle plan, of anyone who wants to get out of the trenches. Oh, sexy, work, baby. Got to reduce, so, obviously, if it’s not one thing, it’s another. What is that noise? Oh, it’s just the disappointing sigh, after the lifesuck. A hard time, is supposed to come to an end, isn’t it? Don’t infringe on their trademark.
I am definitely, thinking of ideas, that have something to do with telephone party lines, why’s, who’s, peek-a-boo, etc. Now may not be the best time, to stack, and organize, your books. Well, money will be saved, and the loss of girth, is assured, if, what needs to be done, gets done. There are so many in my house, that I haven’t read, yet, that it is abundantly clear, that I have no need to spend a dime (ever again), at any bookstores. Keep a close eye on the photos, to catch the progression through the years, and, beware. The details are often, all that is worth seeing, and they are all, very important. Word drunk, bird shit, orders, that best come, pouring in. Let’s go play in the moss, go at it sideways. Do we deserve our failures, as much as our successes? Feeling stupid, to say the least, I mean, if the chicken smells good, you’re in trouble. See, though, if you screw up, there’s more work, for you to do. Please take care of the things, that you have neglected, today. Never, ever, lose your resolve, again. At this point, I am totally clear, on the subject of, “lack of self-confidence.” I found several dollars in my coat pocket, that I was taking in to the cleaners. Idolization, is, by far, the silliest form of hero worship, there is. He’s a sadist, with that animal. What difference does it, or could it, make, how attractive, other people, are, to you? Whatever it’s called, has already happened. There are shortcuts, and ways around things, but I wouldn’t advise you, or anyone else, to take them. What are you going to do, when starving? Place yourself inside the utter, and total, abandonment. Too much failure, implies, a great bunch of fellas! Rising prices, come up on us, like a snake. All sales are final. Mysterious alloys, confuse us. Too many mistakes are being made, things are a mess, amiss. Right now, it very well could be, that someone, somewhere, is planning on putting me, into an institution. What the hell was I singing to her, for? One thing, has nothing to do, with the other. Touch me, the way I want to be touched. I mean, who knows, what is on those pages? If anyone, could get a male stripper job, why am I, attempting to do so? Don’t assume that I’ve got any interest in those children’s shows, that I formerly, expressed interest in. Give me the rusty scissors (why?). You shut up, you, shut up. Again, the anger is gone, so happy, so horny. Just look inside the cars, as they zip by you, and believe me…it’s as if, totally high. Get your ass back into the boat, on the canal, and hold the steering mechanism, straight. It’s got to make a big splash. Look back, don’t go back. So many weird things, get yelled, inside a household. I hope so and so, can read my writing. Two, gerbil size, turds, in the bowl, horrible gas, unsolicited phone calls, ads in papers, promise to be “gotten to," empty bottles, and cans… chugging, equals alcoholism. To be ravishing, and splendid, smashing, is to be, devoured. Hone it, on, in. Come, come, tut, tut…subdue yourselves, don’t stop flying, just because the hammer’s, off the porch. I do believe I’m too far gone, for fixing, Momma. Don’t relax, whatever you do, don’t just sit back, and relax. Compared to other cities, even the bridges, around here, suck. The coat is being cleaned, right now. Then, we were flashed. Spit, inside, or outside, the theatre, as you see fit. It’s as if we’ve invented a new kind of boxcar, that didn’t go over well. Praise be…these heavy dust, moments, these polymer excursions. What was the deal, with that look? The diabolical nature, of the entire work/starve quotient, is fueled, by the fires, that we, ourselves, were forced to put out. We don’t need to make the acquaintance of any killers, right away, let’s go look through the peep booth, keyhole, first. Put down those pills, don’t collapse on the ice…goodness, what the hell can be done, to help anyone else? This gum chewing, is more manic, than anyone else’s, anywhere. Now, suddenly, those vitamins, don’t look like such a bad idea. Things, the important things, are a long time coming, and then, it takes even longer, to worm your way through it. Please, finish your ink drawing, before putting it out, in the middle of a rainstorm, to dry. What is up, with the sudden, name change? Alright, as far as things go, they’re fine, but could be, much better. Tuckered out, petered, fished, squirted, shot. What kind of vegetables, do you intend on eating, now that the goal, is to starve to death? Nearly naked, in a hospital exam room, leads to resolve, resolution, true grit, being fiddled with. Everybody wants to throttle the goose, ride the crotch, in whichever, direction. My type of people, go to jail, thus, another type of person, is to be…i.e. come into awareness. A special kind of dizziness, is sure to assail me, this time. Have got to be careful, switch the color of the cloth, return all phone calls. Something very weird, is always happening, graphs, get shown, to all. No one cares about all the timeshares, and townhouses, corporate anything, incoherent mumbles. My head hurts, the news, isn’t strictly necessary, to watch. Well, one, two, three, etc. No book, can really kick me, the right way. This is assuredly, not, morning. Go to where the talent is, become it, wake up. Who, you? Damn the rich, and flagrant, gaspers, don’t worry, we’re working on it, hurrying, and all the rest. Shit, this is not my idea of cha-cha, turn around. The stress from what/where/who, etc. I asked her. Crackers are acceptable…but, more a modern timeline, is, everything is required. That bottle, below those socks, is of the kind, and sort, that can be consumed. Who sits where, in the house, right now? It is getting darker, later, one association, one eight hundred phone number, meetings. This is far and away, the single, worst page, that I have ever sat down, to write, I can’t hear the world, over the sound of my own chewing. Breakfast can be done without, for sure. We got up, and into it. Mayhem was alluded to, somewhere. I thought it was only a fart, and I ended up shitting all over myself. He beat the faggot, right out of me. Tear your attention in half. Some motorcycle sex show… Fortitude is not a show of strength.
Don’t you try to stick me in there, to live, I only look disturbed. Oh, rest assured, my depression, will return. Our sex drives, are never in neutral. Soon, I will be ending. There are too many pillow cases, not enough pillows. Go up to the next level, engage in all manner of pleasantries, and everyone else’s. There isn’t anywhere in this room, to store anything. All the books, don’t need to be read. Oh, dear, me, I hope it gets things on the immediate high ball, and up, and up. All directions, and phone numbers, nothing to really slap on a barbecue! Sheets from 1-11-94, on, must be forged, to get away with the sort of murder, that I think I got away with. Refer it, to luck, and thank goodness. Do I, well, are there any screenplays, currently floating around, in my head, that need to float out? The job is shitty, just for now, short term, and open-ended, lame, weak, chicken livered, fine. What’s in the empty envelope, chubs? Oh, this is some real, guilt/pain, kind of beverage. A new sign, and color combo, at everybody’s favorite, drop in/drop pants, welcome center. Keep your thrills, to yourself, shut your fish-hole, cakemouth! Rim job the critter, the whole front end, needs to be aligned. Love is more or less, a pork chop, there weren’t a lot of smiles, in the shot-put pit. Who the hell, is going to like the enthusiasm, forged out of this immobile, sluggish, mode? So stiff, so full, of I don’t knows, and maybes, buts, and whatnot. One was on some street, something else, some stolen sign, put your race, and ethnic combo, on the comment cards, provided. Fathom the legitimate, the trends, are running out of gas, the difficult flute player, has his eyes on everybody else’s, girlfriend. Send up a fuck, oh, I mean, fax us. Talking, is the proper mouth exercise, for fatty, round faced, chubby, bubble face, people. I mean, I’m real sick, to my empty stomach, now, my arms, and legs, are empty, my equilibrium, is a tad more than, off. The thousand and one, blind lurches, aren’t going to get me, anywhere. Try to read my stories, from the highway. The sound of suction, is coming from in-between the two window panes. Don’t salute me, I am not a microphone. No food of any kind, should be eaten, those who don’t know, may find it strange, at first, that even though I’m alive, I am really, dead. There just isn’t going to be a me, anymore, I don’t want myself, as I am, now. As soon as my all consuming goals, are reached, there will be a lot less to worry about, and struggle through; no more suffering, no more problems, in this area. They are not interested. Cure yourselves of illness, at once. The only one who has to worry here, is me, to say the least, I sleep well. The sand was epoxyed by the grease. Many things, are just not right. One more failure, one more, and I am telling the world, for all it’s worth, that I will never do so (breathe), again. I got trapped, like we all, eventually, do. Perhaps, today is the day, to do the real shit. It’s just baffling to me, how shitty most of this book, is. Get your suits from the cleaners, listen to a house master alarm, go off, thirty, forty times, cough a lot, feel cancer coming, smoke, read. Looked back, with all kinds of feelings, at old school pages, what happened to me? Well, don’t let it happen again. Get upset, but don’t drag anyone else, into your ridiculous agendas, or anti-agendas. These jobs that I’m applying to, take too long to decide, on core issues, like hire/don’t, weeks pass, and you hear, nothing. Cleaning kitchens at night? The porno shop, remember all those hours you put in, and how little money you made? Overtime up the ass. As things stand now, my luck, was a fluke, you were about as ducky, as could be. You made yourself, somewhat irreplaceable. Anywhere else, you should choose to go, you know you’re only going to be a number. Well, you thought the note, was sweet, please, get to work. This is never to see any stack, of any kind, get the fuck up! This is really upsetting, and unsettling, did I need, that book, or didn’t I? Say no, to breakfast. I hope that you realize by now, that creativity, is the same, in any field. If you’ve cultivated it over a long haul, it will serve you. Someone was screaming some thing, about hazelnut. Lard, was the cause of it all. You had better have plans, to do something, serious, in the morning, if you have plans to hang out with retards, at night. The fact is, that if you hit me, I’ll fall down. My hate, your face. It was a liquor store, I believe. This is a part, of the big void. Throw it over there. This only gets somebody, in the zone, allows them to be, their work, so, why does it take me hours, avail me, nothing? It’s most definitely, time for me to chomp down hard, on some new kind, of meat. Enough failure, it is time to make. Do whatever it takes, don’t even think, of not doing so, slam the big fist self, into every unlocked door. Yesterday, I felt five, six, different kinds, of failure. Yawn, crackle, get angry, bust, and break things, leave. The massage story, was some kind of homo, slop fest. Wash your feet, clean your ass, knock some people down, with your brashness, audacity, I mean, they’re not going to like you, anyway. What sound; is it gonna’ blow us down into, this time? Bloody Mary, on the vile rump of, “roll it over, baby?”
