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That's the stitch, and don't go in there. If you've gotta’ sew on a button, she can't do it for you. The strobe lights are flickering, and endearing me to crockpots! They couldn’t have it any other way, I can't read. The way I stumbled around that place, you know I didn't get any valentines. "They're conspiring against me" (shut the fuck up). He was found beside his bed, with his head tilted back over a stack of books. What else was said? What a phony and pale representation, of the Left Bank, The Tai-Kwan-Do joint, and the other place, are gone, out of business. All we hear, is no. Remembering back to when video stores were family owned and operated. It’s too wayward and partial, most things lead nowhere. I write in order to find out what is wrong with me. So quickly, whole traditions are snuffed out. This is all spackled and horse shit, some kind of problem with crayons. What did all of the Roman difficulties, really matter? What life and death, 2,000 years ago, was like, has no relevance, now. We're here. This is the only way that the World can be. You'd never know if time travel were possible. Things would change back then, and there would be no way of us finding out how they were supposed to have happened. History hooks wouldn't magically change before our eyes, but will have always, accurately reported what happened. Some kind of universal mind, some supersonic/concious something – is stealing all of my best ideas. That guy was wrong, and who would want to visit this time, anyway? We made quite a few tapes. I don't believe in time travel, I'm just wasting time. That’s a bullet hole, that’s certainty. You are like a plastic, protective coating. Far too intense for normal people, the world is not ready for this? But the "world," will never be ready for anything, except it's eventual destruction, and people are far worse, because we're the ones that will destroy it. Crack your knuckles, and get ready. Lets all start communes, but not hippy-dippy communes, let's re-create Pella, Macedonia, back in it's heyday, and lets put it in Kansas! If it is, if it is, seize it all immediately, or off yourself. Nothing is going to "happen," turn it up. Expression is like unemployment, it's hard to believe that I can carry on. Wear it like a tiara, a hula hoop. You don’t have to do that, now, do you? Back to the blue chair, the illusion of literature. So queer and in such need, everyone I know. We’re all out of control. How can you help them? I can't, I never could, and I can't. Use the saw, to cut into the wood. Slick festival, over in a downtown garage. Lean against it, get it on, heads will watch him sing his song. Traffic jam, twisted witness, you have a beautiful skeleton, stay moral, stay away. My face is trapped in itself. "Getting with it", "digging it", "grooving on it". My idea of quality, cannot escape the funhouse mirror, three dollars and twenty five cents. Gravy dripping down the lip, discuss the spatio temporal position, of the pleasure center. Impress you all; they, not I, assuredly. All was magic, with ropes and mirrors, no control, deep rooted problems, nothing unconscious about them. This therapy (maybe), isn't embarrassing enough. Call yourself a killer, at the international log rolling contest. Subject yourself to strip searches, intentional fondlings, go around being/acting like, that man did. Dangerous, yes, these are dangerous times. Let me lead the charge towards Armageddon, bring it on! Unpredictable, yeah, but keep it secret. Nothing is more nauseating than someone who has to keep stating how unpredictable he/she is. I am a liar, really, I distort the truth, on purpose, to get people off my back, or to bring them into my spiders web, so I can spray secret spider semen all over them, and then lick them to death. I hate you all, I can't cope (but must), with this world, everyone in it, most of the people I loved are... to think, I once had confidence. The cold water gets easier to sustain, over time. So much time is spent smoking. We can’t follow.
The next time someone asks you whether you love them, or not, tell the truth. Being alone isn't so bad, once you get used to it. Who can go ten, twenty years, lying? As for people who are "in love," and have something that’s real, and lasts, I can only mumble. There is nothing to do on dreary, wet, slippery, days, such as this. Why do I write like this? Because there are no more stories to tell, everything has been done before, and overdone. The predictability, everything is becoming a cliché. All I said was forgotten, and I messed up again. The minute you even mention the word chaos, to anyone, they’ll split from you so fast, your head'll swim. We could build a pyramid, or Acropolis, in a fraction of the time it took millennia ago, but do we? Look what we build. Isolation, the fear of the fear, that was justified. Trying too hard, drinking too much, I'm in my own element! Do you understand the significance of this? Losing the ability to even hold a pen, I'm so fucking excited, she’d like to read it. My behavior is indicative of what’s going on inside my head, I can't pull over fast enough! That electrical relay building looked so much like a house, that I stood outside it screaming, "Greg ... Greg, Greeeeeeeeeg!" These charades elucidate a silent sorrow. We are going to force this world to mean something, if it's the last thing we do. In short, what I want to happen, is not going to happen. Tonight we are going to have fun, and nothing is going to stop us. Hours in the bookshop, people can help make you smarter, if you know how to use them; they can make you happy, at least, for a while. The death of a car, smells exactly like this. The Vicar, and his psychic abilities? You will forget much more than you’d like to. Get your start, and let momentum take care of the rest. Use the new carbon dating technology. Those ridiculous letters, yes, I've had my share of phases, and these trends are encapsulating me. Clouds do not interest us, for the most part. No matter what, we must break out of this jail, no one can take our freedom away from us. Back to the cemetary fuck rock? And what do sexual fantasies have to do with everyday life, the workday world? I'm getting out of here, trying to appear sober. Picking up your cans, and heading to the store to cash them in. It's more than this. What happened to true community, conversations, friends? It’s minimal, well heeded advice, about white tiled floors. Let us drown in our own stupidity, let us suffer. Males occasionally get erections, for no reason at all, females have different physiological responses, but they are somewhat analogous. That one book doesn’t make any sense, although it made more sense than anything else, in that era of literature. This shit I'm writing makes sense, sometimes, but the bone cap percodine, is displayed beyond the capacity for comprehension. There are no secrets, just trick photography. Cutting toenails is a lost art? My favorite coat lies torn to pieces on the ground. No one’s alive to be impressed, anymore. If you look closely, everyone looks dead from the side. Release me from liability, I'm mea-culpable, this is ten times as intense as hot cross buns, this is blindness. Returning the favor was the way things went, how can one hand scratch the other, if there weren’t rules and guidelines set up, in advance? I flipped over the safety rail, did a somersault, and landed smack-dab in the middle of the chair, as if nothing had happened. This phenomena is called, “emerging out of memory.” Smiling, when you just can’t smile, is always noticed by others. There's always something wrong, with trying to fake it, I used to go there, years ago, things are fine and dandy here. As for observing the subtle clues, and cues, that people throw around so indiscriminately, I have never been too good at noticing them. Let us at least look into, stomach stapling, and other genetic manipulations. Too much way out, and you’ll get looked at like a lunatic. We are not you. A large puff of smoke rose from the crowd.
Since seeing is believing, suits and ties will make the man, there are names that I can't mention, and there are things that even I, cannot repeat. The end is never in sight, come, it someday, surely will, yet, no one will know exactly when. Do not wait until you've only got a few days left to live, in order to appreciate time. Blowing dandelions into the street, I hope that I didn't lose my ring. There was once a song, simply entitled, “Blow Me,” it’s not that popular anymore. The grey man begging quarters at the bus stop, even after capabilities have been arranged, and rearranged. Trouble and money, there were bright lights, and only seconds to spare. This is a professional review copy, not for sale. Even Euripides and Socrates, made fun of my polecat hypothesis. And a steeple town girl, that wants to, get away, only wants to get away. Remove your dead self, from inside. My fall, will not be pretty. Sneak into the pancake house, wearing nothing but a moth eaten hyena pelt, I am sadly misappropriated, doubting myself, in triplicates and quads. Such a lively, engaging snipe hunt, life. Sit home, alone, in the dark. Greed really does breed tragedy. It was a kind of meditation, that worked for a while, only I can control this. The head, it moves, and the body should follow it's example. Just because we're frustrated, is no reason to pile our rocks all around the countryside. I’m nauseous just looking at the undigested, whatever, that I spewed all over the sidewalk, in front of the art gallery. They will get the proper evidence, and trace all of your phone calls. My pretense is now propaganda, and my paragraph becomes a first move, and last dance. I wanted to inspire people, I just wound up, scaring them all away. What keeps me going, are things I can’t have. There are things floating around inside my head, that string me out, and demand that I fuck my food. I want to be different, but sometimes I think, that I'm "different," enough. People assume things. We are the very first generation, born without a body. People quit and get fired, beyond that, there's not much to look forward to. The difficulties you will face, shall be immense. What else is there to do, but stare at the ceiling, watching the fan turn around? They’ll come around, too late. The dullness is getting very scary. Perhaps they were aliens, after all. I have done something that's supposed to have been impossible. Recalling a fall cider, zen moment, past. The most destructive lies, are those that we're unaware are even lies, at all. Burn the flag, and the bible, while your at it. The things we believe about ourselves, that are not, and have never been, true. The worst type of laziness, is when we make all sorts of plans, with no desire, or ambition, of ever following through with them. Do I need to get this copyrighted, how much does that cost? I lost the tape recorder, I was just looking at a little note that I wrote to myself, I never did follow it's directive. Both sides of our brains, intermingle so much, that we can never tell which hand is washing which ass, obviously, there have been some stumbling blocks to conciseness, at points in time. I've sniffed my share of kerosene, I don't really know anything, but make all kinds of statements. I've wasted too much time contemplating nostalgia, that to be honest, is unwarranted, because the events never came to pass. What is the most excitement I’ve ever had? Well, several things, see, I'm somehow able to self-delude myself into thinking that I've created this, and that, situation for myself. All of this "excitement," usually only causes regret, and guilt, later on. Nowadays, I try to stay impartial. Yes, I saw the buildings and elevated trains, but for what purpose? I'm drug free, well, free of illegal drugs. Are there any abandoned warehouses around here, that we can break into? See, this is the padded room that I inhabit. There's something really disgusting about those potatoes, I was pissed that she started spraying disinfectant in my direction, I thought it was about the rudest thing that she could have done. I was never one to be an advocate for sanitation, but that stench is heinous. Figure out the calculus of annoyance, frustration, stability, efficiency. This is what it’s like to be drunk. It’s significant, but, so what? It needs to be objectively, slashed, and splashed. Slice some pieces, out.