068

Don’t cause a scene, no matter, where you go, or, what you do. Driving around, in a car, aimlessly, doesn’t seem like a good idea, to me, right now. If we, insist, we can get ourselves, to feel, really, really, X, about, any, Y. During the course, of the final, good-bye, I didn’t run, from the car, back to the house. The ceremonial burning, may, or, may not, take place, tonight. The compulsive rubbing, of ones own, mustache, equates to, a new, kind, of conjunctivitis. When I scratch my ass, I mean, it. Karen, I owe you, one. When I go into the factory, each morning, such a horrible, sense of dread, greets me, at the door, that I want to turn around, and go back to the van. Where’s my one single, in cash? Echoes, of no consequence, sound off, like triumphant, trumpets, in my head. The drugs, helped, for awhile, and then, they stopped, helping, to say the least. There are an awful lot of things, that I would like to say, to the underwear models, so many, in fact, that I’m assured, of never being able to say, anything. There is no, President of the United States, there is no, United States…there isn’t much, of anything, that we didn’t, invent, and, may as well, not be, there! Surrounded, by the successs (give him, the tenders), of the world, I just, kept, failing. I found another, what’s her name. If the pictures, should ever be, developed, I categorically, deny, ever having had been, in, at, or, near, that apartment, it’s all, a setup. Sorrow, and shame, bewilderment, and bemusement. You know the rules, now? Meat, is really, some kind, of, metal, alloy. Sometimes, the (how subtle, is, the shift?) harder, you try (people, with dirty jackets), the less, gets done. There is no shame, in getting caught, I repeat, over, and over, to myself. There are powerful, powerful, people, who want me, dead, if I should ever wind up, so, they, did it! For the most part, as a child, I was left alone, to do what I wanted, but, when I stepped too far, out of line, I got hit, and, a lot of different people, hit me. I don’t have any control, over my life. Vital stats, need to be taken, on each, and every, one, of the spoiled, brats. There are no rules, to the game, as the cheaters, have already, known, for some time, now. My sex organs, have slowly, over time, become, my thought, organs, so, please, excuse me, if, from time, to time, I, uh, get stuck, on a certain subject, or, keep straying back, to one, or, another. I thought that things would work out, differently, I (demand more) thought, I would, be, somebody, I didn’t, I’m, not, and, I don’t want to, anymore. My entire life, has been, a gigantic, mistake, when I look at myself, in the mirror, I can’t, believe it, I won’t, it, just, can’t be. My goals, include, the impossible, please, don’t tell me, it can’t be done. Right now, I’m so sick, and so dizzy, I’m beyond hope, so, I’m hallucinating, no one, can help me, I think I’m beyond, help. The sex urge, snaps out, stops. How did this happen, so fast, how the hell, do thirty, forty, fifty, years, wind up, passing, so fast? I’m a three minute, egg, whatever that, means. I didn’t kill, chicken lady, or, anybody, else, look, who are you, voices, whom assault, my tender brain, so, constantly? The entire setup, of the world, is wrong, see, from the beginning, it was done, incorrectly, we let things get, to where they are, now, and they’re going to get, way, worse, we just, put up with it, there doesn’t seem to be any limit, to the amount of horror, we can endure. The thoughts, that I think, must never, manifest themselves, in the real world. See the train station, for what it, truly, is/was. The energy, of the stars, won’t buzz up your rectum, like a good, Spanish fly. It’s essentially like one of those, do it yourself, cartoons. It will only get, more expensive. My finger, looks just like, one of those, jelly/rubber, filled, toys, that you squeeze, and it bounces, back. I ate the chocolate, vagina, and, grinned. There isn’t anything, to say, thus, we say, superfluous, things, to keep ourselves, entertained. My pain, isn’t so debilitating, that a good shotgun, couldn’t put it, right. What were those insults, again? Twat juice, breath, and dried out, cunt, pee-pee, penis, and solemn, shaft? The smells, that are etched, way back, in my mind, are coming to the forefront, of who, I am. Succulent, make-out, practice, pads, automatic, water bongs, with invertebrate, jellyfish. Certify, the certifiable, go! Despair, at will, you’ve got nothing, to lose. Let’s see you, try it, freshy-freshy…
The last person, I can impress, is myself, and, not too many, other’s, stand in my line, either. There is never going to be, a lack, of things, in which to, complain about, is there? Do something, about the car, before it winds you, in a casket. My physical self, has deteriorated, so much, in the last, several, months, that it is, as if, I never even went through, all the blood, sweat, and tears, it took, to improve myself. When I last, saw you, Emily, there were tingles, up, and down, my spine, there was a spontaneous, erection, I loved you, and, love you, still. Don’t tempt me, from inside the cab, of your trucks. My shock absorbers, are so, worn out, so, ineffective. Some people, speak, so clearly, profoundly, intelligently, everything they say, is, oh, so, perfectly, phrased. More that Artaud, was the refrain, I used, to sing, when I was thirty centimeters, short. Let me see your crazy, sparkling, face. The confusion, creates, disruption. The time cue, made me dream, of bovines, in lust. The plains, are going to cause, stranger, and stranger, urges. Kick the shoreline, right out, of the picture, postcard. The ability to boot, and re-boot, out of the dry-dock, at will, is overrated. Pay, this window. People, have nothing better, to do, or, so it would, appear. Don’t allow yourself, to be pushed around the blacktop, by people, half your size, no matter how loud, or, brash, they are, nor, how much of a commanding, presence, they seem to excude/invoke. I really, don’t care, if I ever see, orange juice, again. Our obsessions, with these collections, of ours, aren’t, won’t, oh, who cares? The newscasters, seem so, healthy, so, happy, free, rich, and unencumbered. Take, what, for what, it is? The northern ocean, made me want, to make a deal. These, “incomplete noises,” as you call them, from where, do they, derive? Cap a way, from sometimes, to a little, more often, then, move on, slowly, but, surely, from there. What is this talk, about recycling, your own material? The jetliner crash, the boat sinking, the tire, the cape, the murder, etc. Let’s go to the coffee shop, tonight. My screams, are not heard, by anyone, but myself, and then, only, slightly. What about duality, is it, that people, have a problem, with? Well, I could, walk, now, and come back to this, later, but, that seems like a sort of, copout, to me. My, shoes, why the hell, are there always, problems, with them? The (purple wings) killer, of the young children, will be killed, himself. I was enthused, by all the laughing. The upset, the unbelievable, upset, will occur. We’re shitting, in our pants, discussing, the mysterious, bulges. Over time, I’ve become less, and more, appreciative, I seem to have a very real, and tangible, need, for some element, of, control. I saw a garage, felt the stillness, fell into, a urinal. This infected cunt, of a country, we live in? Oh, sorry, I mean, rah-rah-rah? Make a grand, and eloquent, entrance, a hasty, exit, carve the pumpkin, with, grace. It’s so hard, just to get a little bit, of moisture, down there. Cast me, like iron, in a lead mine, fantasy world, penthouse, of some, living, experiment. I can’t read through, the lines, that have been erased, or, crossed out, every word, is completely, unreadable. The radio, tuned in, and out, seemingly, affected, by the darkness, fog, and drizzle, in the atmosphere, that night. Prosperity, is a need, that will never, go away. All of the sudden, I had a vision, of a turnip, and couldn’t get it, out of my, head. We’re forced, to check, ourselves. I am so, so, sick, of hearing the temperature, repeated, to me, over, and over, and over, again. The panel report, indicated, that the concept/proposal, wouldn’t work. The irony, is that the more I attempt, to be, controversial, in what I write, the more, almost, wickedly, conservative, I become. What did we used to (there is no resting, no safety), talk, about? The wheat, moved, in the breeze, like waves, on the ocean shore, and, had the same effect, on the observer. Psychology, is a dead, not, a dying, discipline. Sin, isn’t able, to be, handled. Strife, leads to fatigue, weariness. I crushed the cantelope, with my own, hands (rotten). We’d better, get a move, on. All of the sudden, for no reason, at all, I started dancing (wildly, well, yeah, crazy). I’m losing strength, fast. They went to the ice cream parlor, and ate it, in the car. Look, I know all, of the, hand signals!
It will not, do, itself, you, have to, do it. Don’t try to put, too fine, a point, on it, it all amounts, to, crossing I’s, dotting T’s, and spelling. Louella, baby, this, is what sorrow, is. We’re a bunch of, fu-fu, she-she, animals. Why, and how, is it, that wherever I go, the boss, is always, some idiotic, asshole? Nothing, that I’ve ever done, has been, good enough, thus, I do, very little. Our sad, little, stories, aren’t even, interesting, we imagine, that we could, go away, but, nobody, goes, anywhere. My, two, or, three, brain hemispheres, drifted apart, quite, swiftly. Let me have, just, this, one minute, without thoughts, dime store, thoughts, on perpetual, parade. From now on, there are not going to be any, embarrassing, pregnancy scares! We were only, break dancing, we got accused, of the sickest, perversity. The computer generated, effects, created an absolute, uproar, everyone, thought, that things, were happening, that couldn’t, possibly, happen. I don’t think, that either, of us, ever broke, one hundred, unless, we were scoring everything, all wrong. Hours, and hours, pass, and, next thing, you know, they’ve become, years. We used to wear our hair, in ways, that, now, with hindsight, and everything, oh, oh, my. What possessed that man, to clap, while sitting there, like he did? Look at these flashbacks, I thought I was just in a room, from a long time, ago. I sit here, sit here, and do nothing, while other people, sleep. I don’t know, I think, that it’s Thursday, I am, suddenly, a third grader, again. Why did I ever, let happen, what I let, happen? We should be getting back, to the basics, but, we’re all, too busy, complicating things, to realize it. Maybe, I should pay you, to give me a job (well, we’ll just, see how it, goes). Do it, in a parking lot. Sensible, meals, sensible, spending, sensible, plans, sensible, everything, which, won’t do, any of you, any good, at all. Fuck, sensibility! Oh, I’m, “ready to rock,” alright. An exploding, while, at the same time, imploding, circus, is what, I’m symbolically, trying to accomplish, here. Sometimes, my manic delirium, gets the best of me, and the outbursts, of laughter, or, tears, become (take your medicine), frightening/ inappropriate. We were offered, an interest-free, deal, which, we refused, because, we feared, that the, uh, fine print, would come back, to haunt us. We are not in, North Carolina. A tremendous, festival, was staged, and nobody, showed up. Assholes, can’t tell, and, don’t know, if, they are, that, they are. We’re about as close, as we’re ever going to get, to what it is, we want to be, already. Well, I already know, that I won’t, “fit in,” so to, speak, but, that has never been, my intention. It’s never, over! The day, will just, pass, with nothing, interesting, having, taken place. There isn’t any competition, the same, big, places, win all, of the awards. Don’t allow yourself, to get porched, or, to be a fiddle stomper. A lot of people, are going to be at the arena, tonight. In the past, I used to get so worked up, with excitement, that I, that I (some things, really, shouldn’t be, revealed). Everything, is tipping over, maybe, this (stop gambling, you crazy, hillbillies), isn’t going to be as funny, as I, originally, thought, it was going to be. The horns, are communication, of a bizarre, message, to me, to do, what it is, that I’m afraid, to do. Are we getting any closer, at all, to the end, of this, goddamn, thing? Nothing interesting, or, out of the ordinary, is going to happen. Expect the worst, hope, for the best, be surprised. There has, most definitely, been some stoppage, and leakage, in what it is, that I’m trying, to do. Her alias, is, or, was, lilacs, up the ass. There are a lot of ridiculous, unspoken, “rules,” and invisible, guidelines, that aren’t crossed, due to excessive, assertiveness, or, just, plain, superiority complexes, on the part, of some people. This is jittery, like, forgotten ideas, we must take our pick, and shut up, about it. We must look at, all, sides, and consider, all, angles, when considering, anything. We’re flogged, flushed, flayed, and finished, before we even, begin. I suppose, it’s safe, to say, that, at this time, there are (or, could be), some, very definite, clashes, and conflicts, brewing. I was the guy, who was supposed to warn, the Indians. Only the first, hundred? I wanted to be, other people, so long, that, I don’t have a self. I guess, that I just, can’t, do it. It doesn’t bother me, anymore, any of it (this, is a lie). Charlton, cease fire! Beware, the agile (no more, hitting). Stay, centric