205

My problems, oh, shut up! Give me what I'm asking for, here! C'mon! Fresh page, new ideas, now, you just keep going. Don't go have a cigarette, don't open a pop, don’t touch that book, don't even think about wandering, aimlessly, around the house. You stay right here, and you get some good things down. What was that quote? I could sit down, and do it, at any time, but I don't get to sit down much? You will sit down, for however many minutes, or hours, that it takes per day, and you will do it because of, or in spite of, how you feel. I cannot ever rest, but naturally, I see how I am guilty, of this. No, I will do nothing, but work! But only I, can really do it, try something different, I've already broken every rule, that there is to break. To do the AM, is just the beginning of the day. It's not supposed to matter, but in my case, I've messed up, and screwed off, and rested, so long, that for me, all of this has to mean something. Describe the backyard at Rollene Street, do something! Not even a half of a page, at this point. Why does he fight with the dog, constantly? Chicken/chapter, the language, bizarre. Why should the government pay people, for all their losses in the ice storm, etc? Well, they do the same thing here. 70% probability, of precipitation. Chase the porcupine caribou, around the countryside, document, and share the information, you collect. Fuck it, them, it all, etc. Their cars suck, and they are going to get much worse. The happy people, are doing much better than I am. The blues must be receding, some time soon. What time is it, now? I've been awake for exactly three hours, and still, nothing has yet happened, that needs to. Take less time with this, for now. You've got too far to go, and way too much to do, to lollygag, and flit around, here. If I'm a fag, so be it, I mean, what else am I aware that I'm hiding, or could be hiding? How can I ever know, what I do not know? Faster, and faster, up, and down, the dells, scattering partly, around the country, and/or city, landscapes. Now, I have got dozens of ink blots, to calmly peruse, at some other time, when there aren't going to be any previous engagements to attend. Never again, yes, never again, will I get in any legal snafu's, of any kind. I have to reassess my personal responsibility quotient, and get it back up to par. When I think of her, she's troubled, sure, aren't we all? But, there is a naturalness, about her, that makes it more than a perverted, un-thing. The addiction gives up the person, they, have nothing to do with it. Don’t wile away your time, in an old, wood box. No matter what, nothing. One more, do I want to...no! They used to say that wonderful things would/could/will, happen, if you just worked the steps, I didn't, thus. But the same thing/rules, hold, here. Your resistance, is a clue to the very things that you have to do, first. This is not (I can’t remember) cheese product. We’ll wind up being hated. Give us a chance, to live, to eke out, an existence. What the hell is the deal, with the chick on Days Of Our Doom? Chalking out outlines, makes no sense. The brand new sunglasses, were broken. And yeah, why do I care, and how the hell, do I know? The strip joint, was a business expense, research, uh. You yo’yo’d the reels, backwards. Where are our beliefs? Oh, you’ll see, asshole! Something will always be wrong, here. There isn't any advice to give a guy like me, I mean, I'm going to flop, and flounder, until I get from here, into the sea, or until I am consumed. We all had sex, in the pool. Let's get this done for the day, this may end up taking too long. As it is, with the drift, and everything, that can be expected, or, so distracted, so embarrassed. My alter ego, has an alter ego, and what I'm probably so upset about, is that I'm not going to be able to drive around aimlessly, today. What the hell did I have? I am going to get the exact same amount, if I work as much as I worked there, anyplace else, do the math! Well, is it all going to be on the paycheck? It doesn't matter, and it does, I never minded all the cleaning, and scrubbing toilets, I guess it was the day, after day, aspect of it, that I grew tired of. Well, that's the way the world works, and yes, there are plenty of people in the metro area, that are ready, willing, and able, to work such hours. Thank you, for taking the hours of operation, off the door. I wasn't even a magnet, until, like, my last month. Don't you dare get up now, you're finally making progress. Everyone has to do those things, that you do not want to do; in order to grow, change, learn what not to do next time, and so on. Yeah, I talked to people, and I tried to stay exceptionally busy. She went from one job, to the other, and then, back again, everybody tried to do their part, everything took place, and happened, but, I was perhaps, a little too protected, and a little too sheltered. My dark secrets, aren’t very. We cleaned, did dishes, wiped, bussed tables, constantly, I didn't like the customers, for the most part, or the employees, I don't really remember. Except the aftermath, which was reported to me, I don't think that I believe it. What was it he was saying about 455 pages, of nothing? They have no idea. It will take affect. They call it soda, they call it pop.

Let me in that great, big, room. Be bold, and even sick, just do these things, without giving a shit about them. Typical, usual, fucked up, morning (and night, for that matter). Sleepwalked to pieces of bread. Morning, actually noon, keys lost. Typewriter, still not fixed, sheets still not forged, and, in fact, are impossible to even find. Still not working, this is ridiculous, and can't go on. Right now, these pages, are encountering some resistance. My life is a warm fart, I do not like myself, and can't remember when, or if, I ever have. I'm trying to fool myself, into positivity, with all this new shit, I'm doing (really, only a couple of things). Yeah, this is certainly not going to be a big production day, I am so angry, that I don't know what to do. The other one, needs insurance. All of this shit has to be done now, and no, none of it, can really, wait. The question that I'd like to ask is, why haven't I (you know, why not)? This handwriting, is absolutely, unreadable. What would it be like, to go slowly, and take my time? My very writing itself, makes me sick, to my bloated out, stomach. We’ll wave that confederate flag, on hills? The civil war, was not fought about slaves. Who cares? How can I waste as much time as I do, and then, look back, and mourn for it? See, having all the flips, and rolls, one is going to take, doesn't make the tumbling routine, even the least bit, more interesting. If I had found my shoes, the moment I got up today, I may not have written these pages. They are called in? K, that is the third time, you've outlined this, to be honest, I would think that would be a rather low priority, item, something, that can wait. Right now, I am feeling so much more gone, than ever before. These are elements of the tub, the taboo, the tattoo, the yoo hoo. Don’t act on any of it. There's that weird "glowing" feeling, in my head, again, left side, and sort of back/center. I'd better learn to describe things better. Someone turned my radio off, good. That thing, is becoming a problem, for me. It's better now, than with old/classic/format rock, but it's still the slightest bit, poisonous. Knowing the surprise, it won't happen, so carry on, carry on. Women were not so particular, well, let's just stop right there. Death attacks, so suddenly. They went off to Florida, and half of them, came home. What the hell is, all this? I want this, as well as everything I do, to be good, then, get better, then, be excellent. If we allow them to, they will take it away from us. I must stop these doubts, there are so many, and they are so overwhelming. Maybe kinky, maybe not. I'm not afraid of hard work, and steps, new things, but I will be all of that, which is probably, the best thing for me. I am becoming very, very, disturbed, by what I perceive, is going on here, in my own life. Things will get better, but, right now, they are certainly not, good. The shit that I say, or write, that I have time to do, I have to do. The work I'm doing, does not seem like enough, somehow. I eat too much, still, I piss, I wander through the house, and even though I'm getting my personal work done, little else, is being accomplished. In other words, I am only doing these things, that I like. My fear of jail, is more than that, because it can't happen. I am, just now, turning myself around, and doing the shit I have to do. I am not an asshole, or, am I? This is the third day, but don't look back, try to make sense, for now. Forget what needs to be forgotten, and worry about those "core issues," later. This shouldn't be about re-copying shit, from there, to here. Saturday, is now a day for me to rest, and stink, and melt, expand, thereby, getting nothing. Monday is Monday, so you won't be able to do anything about any of this, then, either. Thank goodness, I didn't watch more than ten minutes of it. They suck, because they take me away from what I need to be doing. See, the beginnings are there, these are warm-up exercises, to get in the mood, etc. These are to be looked back over, though, not as something publishable, but they can be of higher quality, than they currently are. My memories keep going back to semi-recent, drunken, embarrassing events, such as the “nature boy run.” Today, was wasted. I checked through the blow-hole.

Throw yourself down into the magic box, with the rest. Let's really turn the censor off, okay? Mississippi, doesn't know me, and I don't know Mississippi. There, beyond that, most of the things that I have read, written, done, performed, most everyone, and everything, has/have been, forgotten. My brain, is not as smart as other people's? I have to work that much harder, to get anything. I need to get myself totally out, of the trouble loop. A run to the dry cleaners, would do me a lot of good, but that is yet another, low priority issue. Call it, discontentment. We are too stupid, for words. A couple atrocious, turnovers, later, I’m in the same spot that I was, nine years ago. I drooled when I saw the fudge, and denied it! Last time, I went to the laundromat, and that was a month ago. My confusion is oh, too, clear. Now, if I could, I would like to become more daring, and original, I would like to get something done. I have done all of this, to myself. So, why now? But I also need to get out there, into the world, and start undoing it. Found official sheets, found some other shit, always, too late. Stupid people, go to great lengths, to try to be smart. Here comes a declaration, of get off your ass, and do something. Almost there, almost there. What sort of breakthrough, am I hoping to achieve? I claim I'm being good to myself. No, it isn't too late, but, for now, film school, wouldn't, (or would it)… it seems, impossible. Also, killing time, productively...all my notes, and excuses. Why am I thinking of Italian restaurants, right now? It is a total rip-off, and the disorganization, as well as the fact, that, for the price, the food isn't all that good. Floor scrubbing isn't hard, it's a chore, that has to be done. I wouldn't mind, helping out, I want to help out, but you can see, that I'm not too overeager. But, as in one area, so in another. So, shake free of the monkey's, and get to where you need to be, manic, or not. No real mysteries, are presenting themselves, to me. I don't want to think long-term, I'm a little screwy, right now. When we had a screened-in porch, there were vines growing on it, and a family of cardinals had a nest right outside my window, what a wonderful thing. Now, look at me, or don't, actually, I’d rather you didn’t. I act like I’ve never had my pussy licked before (most of the time). It’s all a lot of lies, shit, ruin, unhappy endings, reassessments. Your wicked snatch. I’m not country, not yet. This’ll always be, that. My loincloth was torn, this is all I have to work with. Too often, we don’t know what to say, or, how to say it. Putting down so many words, right after the other, what will change, is my attitude, about it, or, in regards, having to do it. Soon, this day’s pepper, will cause me to sneeze. Things are already proving to be a bit, difficult. The real artists, worked, full-time, on their art, and thus, they were good at it. Wring some quality out of your jumbled up sentences, and, for a change, make your sentences, sentences. Break your old limits, in more than one way, and area. Reform, reform, chubby, little, kooky, crazy. No more pathetic, wasted steps; get into the goose step, and go down there, tell them who's boss! We're going to check all these! I'd be thrown into the car so fast, my head would swim. Everything is legit, I'd caterwaul, but would slip up, somewhere. Mark that sentence, and every other, that I try to distract myself from. I'm a scammer, for now, and yes, I need help, I need a name, and red number, this month, is for all intents, and purposes, over. My worries are boring, cash, troubles, problems, etc. This is not a book about elves, and would appear on the surface, to be the worst time, to try writing (but, so has every other time, been). Look at how blindly, I drifted through school, look at how interested in appearances, I am. I know what I know, but don't know, what I don't. I'm trying to relearn, now. I am writing so much, that it's sickening me, horribly. Narrow it down, and become something, six years ago, people got the jump on me. I always find myself, behind, I don't want to be behind, anymore, I want to pick up that calculator, and do some calculations. Five and a half years ago, I was worried about math, and graduating from school, first, and foremost. Now, it's getting a job, and getting off probation. Listen, there is always a problem. Nothing about me, is particularly, normal, and I don't know if this is good, or bad. Lately, the drinking has been, a lot, but with no drunkenness, more of a saying of sick, or stupid, things, and some stumbling, losing stuff. Trying to escape, is impossible. The weekend is time for you to exclaim, “what the hell happened, and what didn't happen, that needed to?” I am going to reinvent myself, soon, and when I do, it will be for the better/best. This is a far cry from Shakespeare, I admit. We’re in the wheel. Hell is a cushion, compared to this.

Try to be the last to sit there? None of this, is for mass consumption, these are certainly not poems, yet. Let the word travel, as fast, or as slow, as it will. There are no waivers, to be passed here/now/whoa, boy! Whatever it takes, I have to set these goals, and meet them. I have to live my dreams, entirely. There is no other way, no easy shortcut, to prosperity. It will be a hard row, full of hard work, but I will survive, even thrive, on the challenges. Recycle the crap, that you busted up, beyond the point of no return. There's a word, spastic. I need to tape that page that accidentally got torn out, back into the book. As I've previously stated, C.W. is a juvenile book, for a slightly wise-ass, 17-year-old, to get under the tree, on Christmas morning. I really made a goofy, silly, manic, fool of myself, in front of her, that one day, on the old post office steps, and way beyond...running off into the alley, far away, hiding in bushes, making strange noises, thinking that people were thinking, "young lovers" type thoughts, while watching us, ruefully. Oh, yeah, I'd gotten myself all worked up, in the myths, the lies, and the stupidity, of whatever it was (love). HAIKU can't quite say, all that needs to be said (written), in certain, fundamental, ways. I repeat myself, too much, like a mid-market, top forty, radio station. Everything I’ve written here, seemed a hell of a lot more important, six years ago. Save some for tomorrow? Uh, sorry, tomorrow, never comes. Thoughts, she said, and I was annoyed. The little snot of a contortionist, can suck her own pussy? There are people that do, and people that don't. There are people that eat cake, and ice cream, and people that have no such desire, to eat such things, perhaps, they overtake that desire, in themselves. What happens, will not be preceded, by any kind, of warning. The sky has that particular, tint (further, another). You’ve got such a fresh face, huh? How much sex, is enough? All of it, all the time, no less. See what happens, do a hell of a lot more, than has ever been done before. Snoot/butter on the snoot? Don’t be compelled, to ask what the score was. There is drool on the paper, or, maybe, it’s semen. There is no way to be able to know, which way to turn, when you're in the maze, other than to trust your own decisions, learn from your mistakes, and keep trying to get the hell out. Never, ever, ever, give up! We remembered about the ham, and all that we did in it's honor, what title we bestowed upon it, and all the rest. I've no doubt, probably said some really foolish things, to a great, wide assortment, of people, when way too wasted, to be sleeping. Could you please help me, just once more? Why her (no!)? Look into the swamp, closely. There isn't going to be a breakfast, with "Milla" (no more creepy Sundays, with her), obviously. There aren't going to be any more problems, at all. Just see where things take you, but, be moving out there, somewhere, or some way, so that some kind of something, can occur. Recycling is not a good idea, right now. People are obsessively grabbing, and groping, Ellie’s wax crotch, tits, ass and inner thighs, to the point where it has to be totally re-augmented, and deep cleaned. The pharmacy logo, contains a bird's eye view of a bird, over an amoeba, with a hand, and over it, the whole thing is engulfed in a purple glow, interpret this later. Right turns, are right turns, whether you've got a destination, or not. I am tired, sure, but I've got the idea, that I shouldn't sleep, that I should keep writing, and see what happens, see what breakthroughs, I might, possibly, make. Tara's house is out in the cool wilderness, near historic, birds, bird feeding, etc. Nothing I've done, is regrettable, per se, but there are a lot of things I've done, that I wouldn't do again. There really isn't anything I want to do, job-wise, but I have to work, to have any kind of money, at all, at this point, or maybe not, but I'd better think really, fast. There are no social obligations, there is no free pizza, and whatever else happened, and I wouldn't want it, anyway. Without the picture in front of me, it is still entirely possible, to envision her, to see her. My drunkenness, must halt, and cease. Minutes to scale the fish, and de-boning it, is so easy. I could go over there, but it's a long grunt, it's too close to the other place. Things need to become more fresh, I smell terrible. The ship sinks, and everybody goes down with it. The divorce is expensive, things occur, that are not pleasant. Frosty Heidi, can suck me off. Songs about coffee, and tea? Who tore my happiness from me? Who took my life, away from me? I did, I did. One yellow lighter, one purple pen, that may still work, one white hair tie, crumbs, dirt, grit, one black ballpoint, $1.11 in change... $6.00 cash. There is plenty of superglue, in case I wanted to fix the rearview mirror, there is a lot of film for the camera, if I would only look for it. I've got a lot to do (that can’t be done). I am so absolutely sick, and tired, of everything. The milkbox, sang me a song. Avoid me, or else. We’re too late, it took tooling.