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You can probably already read my mind! I'm a lying, ungracious shit, a phony, a fake. Both being, and not being, this has got to stop (whatever it is). This needs a lot of work, and at this point, it shouldn't. I'll call the police, you little shit! Want a date? They say that Mars, is on some nearby road. I went soft, when I should have gone native. Don't forget the zip code! It is difficult, but it has to be, you'll drop more than a dime. Keep one eye on the graveyard, when you drive past there. I am a myth, not an icon. Reconsidering what you want your last words to be? Another one just jumped off the bridge. My to do list, is packed with numbered items, none of which have been checked off. Your kindness, authority; fucking, is in itself, a heinous act. Each page is one paragraph. Next thing you know, machines and robots, will be doing your job. There has got to be a way. Them, oh, never mind them, they're waiting for someone to come dancing out of a hat. Ease into what? Nothing worth doing, can be eased into. The refrigerated pastry case, is a problem. The "real world job," never panned out. Don't talk to me that way, you butterfly, red light. This frustration is not only sickening, it has made me physically sick. We screw up too much. I had to get away with it, that's all there was to it. I'm trying to give orders to myself, and it just sounds ridiculous. Nuts, bolts, this is no freak on the stage, for the kids in the audience to clap for. You went and got a napkin, didn't you? We're all given ample warning! Developing film, manipulating women, taking a few classes, here or there. Learn to control any and all, uncontrollable impulses. Two weeks after quitting, you're wrecked. The team will sign autographs. Sometimes, one thing leads to another, and various and assorted synchronicities, seem to be taking place, but let's remain as scientific as we can, in the treatment of such phenomenon. No more far-out bullshit, it is time to focus on the philosophy of getting, and keeping, a job. Sonic waves of incandescence, not in a nice... this boy/girl. Why did I ever let it go so long? Feel free to ask any question. The shits and the cheats, will always be there, don't let them get you down. Don't miss the RV spectacular sale! My final chance, is the only one I've got left. White graphs, blue spaces and marks; you can't use that! You do nominal shit... then... why do you keep getting up? Flunked once, flunked twice, the phrase, two time loser, springs to mind. I should have kept better track. The ledge we’re all balanced on, is a very narrow one. Unique perspectives, of a wide assortment, regarding a great many issues, get in line, kid. Man, what have I done? They moved away, no one heard from them again. Read more porno! We search for a crisis, a violent, spiteful, angry, new kind of literature, which symbolically, kills! Roughly three doors down from us… the drugs keep us on them. There aren't any solutions, to this kind of conflict. This is way beyond sitting on the floor of the mall? Squirm a lot, at the hot dog stand. This is easier than you're letting it be! The laughter, is most definitely, subsiding. The birds ate all the seed. It is important that this letter be sent, as soon as possible. It tasted like postage stamps. No terror, no ends, no death, not yet! I get more pathetic, as my life gets more ridiculous, and absurd. We listen to a lot of lies, and half-truths. I guess, no, I know damn well, a few dollars isn't better than nothing anymore... not anymore. Polluted, married, arranged, troubled, well... The fact of the matter, is that I was working way too hard, while in my estimation, no one else was doing all that much of anything, at all. Did I already mention that I was a prostitute? No matter what I wear or do, whether I have a beard, or shave, am thin, or fat, I cannot look good, it’s just not ever going to happen. There was something else? We are going to pay, not, whoever deserves such and such punishment. Success is like hydro-colon therapy, but, in reverse.
I'm small town, in a city so big, that people don't even realize how bad our population has gotten. I wasn’t pleased with my performance at the talent show. Don't even bother playing pretty boy, drive around, for a few months. People only act stunned, shocked, fed up, pissed. Choices and decisions to make, keep your Friday sunshine, to yourself, you are a person, my testicles are crooked. I'm afraid to take my clothes off, it could be the slop? The heart, leads to black holes we find ourselves in, unexpectedly. Get your own personal hygiene under control, at the very least. Oh, I'd say I more than burned out, at that job. The town, dark. Despite all of this, reward and punishment, will occur. Depressive affect, comes and goes. The joy of having someone spit in your face, beats the joy of sex, any day. Look at the dilapidated buildings, look! X goes against the grain, L got dropped from the line. Keep your freshness to yourself, talk about farm fresh milk! The number was called, get up in the morning. Butter, your feet stink. Put those books away. Alive, I've done the math. We get dragged screaming, from here to there. What hose? No more midnight cleaning jobs, in a fucking kitchen! Admit one more, to the bland, and purposeless, theater show, tonight. The economy is supposedly, booming, stay immensely grounded. Vomit, how many times? Wasted on Rose Street, picked up by the cops, literally. The black death of everyday, is why so many people are depressed. The lateness of the hour, the awful wait... All tongues are in unison! Look, are you going to buy anything? Big taxes, big government, etc. Lobsters ooze their brains into the pot of boiling water. Perhaps you've shit, without knowing it, again? What in the hell is wrong with me? By all means, and in all ways, sell out (while there is still time). What's his name, jacked off in the corpse. The main character undergoes a conflict, from within. Get all the way under there, behind there, throughout there. Too much movement in general, would seem to be taking place. The future will involve fund raisers. That's not my address book, uh-uh! This is the it of it, that we're coming up on now. In a six, or seven month, time frame, out of gas! We all have needs, that are not being met. Oh-no, not me (ha, ha, ha). A portion of the proceeds from each and every widget sold, goes to breast relief. This is some kind of semaphore, coming down. Seventy million, would do, I just hope that I'm not completely, full of shit. Try to fill in the blank spaces... Cushy jobs, should not be anyone's goal. Don't you wish your face was longer, man? There comes a day when the fuck ups, mistakes, and errors, have got to end. This is not really what you're... my feet are just melting. Get on the bus, stupid! My memories are so warped, so as not to exist. The wallet, is once again, completely empty. I don't care what they think, yet, I also do, I can't even think of anything deep, right now, much less, say anything. Tut, tut, not, tut tut. Trying to ignore two newlyweds, is like trying to ignore Genghis Khan. To be burning like a hot foot, is driving me into a drunk, redneck range. It isn’t even real temptation, because we can’t get the things we become obsessed in some way, with. How can I continue doing this? I need to keep reminding myself that this book is my life, my own ideas, not some project for work, or school, that I don’t want to do. Sadly, our faces don't change, not for the better, anyway. We can’t even be, who we are. Sometimes, injustice is served on a silver platter. For all you know, I could be the killer, who was never caught. One second you're sitting there, the next, your brains are off to the left, there's a sharp pain, and you lose consciousness! In truth, I'd give it up... Why and how, is it, that things are still this way? The hip, will be the first to walk the walk through the secret, high school tunnel system. I am a strange and sick man, doing strange and sick things. Like young birds, we squawk, until food is put into our bills/beaks. This deadly and subtle form, of false honesty/modesty, must stop. The time for experiments, has passed, the whole thing is an experiment, now. There is no happiness for people like me, for people who smell like cat litter, urine and cigarettes, sweat, socks, and mildew. The mustard stains, and wrinkles, stand in for the way I feel about the only self I’ve got. The rotting animal’s hind legs, are still out there. Don’t make us think and act like you, please. One day, it’s clear, the next, it’s not.