3m3c2 (though numerically probs wrong as other mentions elsewhere before and after or some fucking thing)

Andrew W.K.’s most recent album.  I was slow on the uptake as I often am but I greatly like.  I cried the other day.  it’s helpful to have a good long cry.  I’m reading The Talisman now.  I’ve never read it before.  What did I watch the other night?  I watched Hold the Dark after eating Lucky Charms cereal.  I love the cereal.  I loved the movie too.   Read a Burroughs book the other day and loved it.  I gave in to sin recently and loved it.  Even now I scatter as I am terrified of everything. 

Oh wow, I recently read Brian Azzarello and Cliff Chiang’s entire 35 (plus 2 bonuses) issue run on Wonder Woman.  It’s a truly beautiful piece of work.  And man, Chiang’s art really set it apart.  I’ve also been going through Grant Morrison’s classic Doom Patrol run.  It’s increasing my brain power.  And soon I will be able to blissfully combine a couple of those things again as volume 2 of Morrison’s Wonder Woman Earth One trilogy is released.  In terms of post Crisis stuff I would now place Azzarello’s run alongside that of George Perez and Greg Rucka.  Will Morrison’s completed run stand alongside those as well? Only time will tell.  Time, patience, the right berries.  I think I told the truth.  I try.  I don’t really know much of anything anymore.  I had to spit out a little bile to one so kind.  I don’t understand what’s happening.  Swimming in braille.  Something along those lines.  In a circle. 

Like we’ve always known each other.  Tales of ice cream and escalators; feared descending (oh don’t be so dramatic).  Little walks here and there and the desire to swim with nothing in between us.  Laughter.  A confession made out of fear as everything you (me, I) do stems from fear.  I am a coward in the truest sense of the word.  I am an awful person.  necessary and unbridled confession.  I crossed my arms like an X at an entirely unrelated function.  It felt lovely, the waiting.  Form and free.  I understand that now.  And indeed there was quite a blissful shadow for some time but all good things must come to an end.  A question mark there.  anything good in this has absolutely none of me in it.  I am human, that is definitely true.  No disrespect.  That was a complete lie.  It feels good to let go of everything but he’s run out of any inventive ways to display.  Could not possibly be in that moment, not with the rampant paranoia.  It went by so quick and ended but with the loveliest of close calls. 

I am completely tainted.  I look in the mirror and see an ugly face, how disappointing that it never changes.  I open my mouth and all my words are clumsy and meaningless. My hands are now useless.  I don’t serve.  I understand what that means.  Any good feelings given to me are sadly misguided.  At  many times during the day I found myself saying out loud things like I want to die and I wish I were dead but of course those are all merry jests because I am nothing if not a happy trickster.  I drank coffee today.  Your warmth felt awful.  Your compliments felt awful.  I hate to that look of tenderness directed toward me.  please don’t waste such beautiful emotion on little old me.  you have very much the wrong impression.  Everything is so superficial coming from yours truly.  All like astronauts.  Asking questions that it would be best not to answer though the answers would not really change anything.  Get out of your own head and realize this elaborate drama is just more nothing coming from your second rate mind and worthless spirit.  Please forgive me.  do you remember the color of my room (where I will live)?  It’s an electric shade of blue.  The flowers wilted.  I drink a glass of nothing.  We’ll never come in with the tide.  There is no meeting at the costumed ball.  I don’t know anything anymore.  Words, I can’t even.  Must disguise everything with farce, eh?  That’s so you, so worthless ugly fucking failure you.  No use in complaining though.  Hell, it’s my own damn fault.  Miss universe, eh?  Though of course I did not quite say that in the proper language.  no flattery from lips.  They only spoke the truth of the other as they denied it of myself.  I am truly awful.  Yeah, the horn deep in the braille.  Irish legends and stone mermaids have me.  or some fucking thing.  I need another drink.  Always.  He doesn’t want to kill this but…oh jeez, there he goes being so dramatic again.  What a fucking baby!  yeah yeah he doesn’t want to kill this but he must!  It’s the only right thing to do.  And once a plan is properly in place he’ll never be heard from again and everything is so melodic now and again death is found on my lips but please forgive me that’s not what I really want or I mean what he wants or something there is just so much conflict and I’m not a good person I’m an awful person and why are these emotions coming at me don’t direct anything at me, nothing makes sense anymore.  Blue jeans, hahaha.  Or something like that.  He saw black too, a window looking out on black.  And under the black?  Someone must know what I’m trying to say and I’ll probably keep fucking saying it for a good long while. 

At one point I may acquire that bumper book of magic but gosh the possibility does scare me so. 

And The Little Star returned to me.  I cried again.  I’m so worthless.  I don’t know what makes me happy anymore.  Does that really matter though?  Probably not.  Lying in sweetest sin.  Jackal.  On top and arms raised triumphantly. 

Oh, that Prince Piano & A Microphone 1983 album?  Just lovely.  It was such a necessary and intimate experience to light a few candles and just listen.  The presence right there in the room.  Lovely immortality. 

I now know that Martian Time Slip will be the very last Philip K. Dick book I read.  I’m saving it for dead last as I brazenly work my way through his entire bibliography.