the further rich third layer of delicious false identity when the [(mask)s], 2 against one, like the BLANK pendant, clues, jackal and not jackal in same day slash night

The morning legs were returned to me and there was a huntress wearing a skirt, heels and pantyhose and I was predictably swept away.  I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself and I hate myself and boy, I sure do hate myself!  This river reminds me of another river.  Get ready to fuck!  You fuckers fucker!  You fucker!  I was listening to Angel Dust earlier and loved it.  I hate myself though.  I drink heavily to numb…something.  Who knows?  Braille.  I love braille.  Temptation sunrise recently. No, that makes no sense.  An abandoned parking lot.  I don’t fucking know anything.  Touch of evil.  Need to set my eyes on it.  Everything beautiful is ugly now.  I’m in search of feeling something but I don’t know what.  Drilling through the number three.  Haha, those mambos.  How could I forget that the millennium was alive with the sound of the tango.  Brazil!  Don’t fucking forget geography my good man.  I just want to breathe in the ocean.  Words elude me more and more.  I’m losing fucking touch with everything.  I see I need to break it all away. i need to get my ass out of the dirt. Where the hell did number nine go, anyway?!  Who was that masked man anyway?!  And now a simple less than one second gesture has set my development back another 5 fucking years at the very least!  Five years, that’s all we got! 

Yes yes okay tenderness vulnerability and all that crapola!  Don’t know what to say anymore. There is a thin but impenetrable shell around everything.  There’s glass everywhere.  No, that’s not right.  Everything has turned grey.  Haha, sludge monster indeed.  How trite!  He’s forgotten how to feel anything.  Got to awake.  The only thing real is the path not taken.  Not, that’s not the essence.  The hug.  The dance that never came.  The costume party.  I don’t understand anything anymore. Every wandering heart.  Why does anyone like him?  Nothing bounces back.  Everything is seen through a haze.  Even when I’m not drinking I can’t feel anything anymore.  Something wrong happening.  Take your baby by the hand.  I found a ship in the earth.  Arabia is far away.  I don’t think I’ll ever understand those numbers.  I guess we’ll all return to croatoan at some point.  I see now the importance and necessity of listening to those things which have fallen through the cracks.  I need to get good and fucked up and then chow down on a sumptuous seafood dinner.  And such is the nature of wisdom.  I drank a lot of liquor and then a lot of coffee and then a lot of liquor again.  Then I bought an old yellowed paperback western.  Then I bought something else.  I been real nourish lately.  Magenta and black.  Hair tight and combed.  Everything set down, drinks ordered and then adjacent order and he’s all eyes. 

Even if get the money I’m still going to release the virus. 

I see now even the briefest of communication is going to destroy me.  of course, I think as my head goes light, how utterly proper.  I can see now why nothing would work.  what a wretched little creature I was and still am.  Just a real contemptable piece of shit.  And silt!  I’m a piece of silt!  The drama of Raising the Bar stems from the inherent dysfunction within our legal system.  After hours proved to be a real delight, I said to myself as I worked my way through his entire filmography. 

You bring fuschia.  To sing your name into the night.  A queen.  Torture.  I’m doing my best to preserve the cool aspects of alcoholism.  My frustrations relate to nothing sexual.  Rather, frustration only comes about when I feel my time has been wasted.  There are yellowed paperbacks all around me.  and lemon meringue papers.  Lemon meringue sexuality has been incredibly pervasive these past few weeks.  All these delays have been well fed.  Has been and then have been.  Not great prose.  I’ll come running to tie your shoe.  Thankfully, something new always reveals itself.  Otherwise all inspiration would be dead.  I was watching The Maltese Falcon last night while drinking and then I slept on the floor like a beloved household pet.  Seamed pantyhose feet on face and hands held out and seamed pantyhose feet on hands.  This was a moment of pixelated bliss.  Something or another.  But then the accompanying iterations are just far too much.  I completely neglected to check the western section the other week.  Got a head full of bad wiring I guess.  I just want to see a forest fire though I have no metal plate in my head.  I think I was drunk the first time.  looks like he gotta put off the eventual release.  I was drinking a refreshing cup of broth recently!  And such is the nature of wisdom.  Four three two one. 

The Tommyknockers is one of my favorite Stephen King books.  It’s a bold, sloppy, scattered, bizarre, audacious, utterly enchanting work and I return it at least eight times daily.  I need to help myself to a fine dinner of anchovy loaf.  I just gotta sit down and figure all this shit out.  Macaroni figured into the music I listed to today.  I was driving around wired on caffeine and thinking heavily about the jackal who isn’t the jackal and the one familiar with all those languages and now there are such kind faces and warmth and yet still a yearning for the rhapsody in blue.  And all the while I long for my face to be the footrest of several sweaty pantyhose clad luchadoras after a good match!  And I long to move the stars to pity! 

The transparent butterflies fell from the sky and we all felt peace.  And as they touched the trees and green earth they turned into flowers and everything was blossoming multicolored flowers and the scent was so beautiful and powerful we had to close the windows because it was too much and then everyone who was lost returned and there was warmth and peace and happiness and only one was crying but soon he was full of love too and you felt love and comfort and the one beside you protected and cherished you forever. 

mv002(coffee and oil, the life, have to work through the shit to get to the good)

I think I’m going to read a book by Elmore Leonard soon.  Or will I?  the more I learn the less I want to know.  I drank coffee recently.  The 2018 version of Suspiria was playing on my increasing obsolete television last night.  This was my choice.  I adore that film.  Such is the nature of wisdom. 

I’m blasting through it right now having just finished the second installment.  The intro was groovy in terms of the articles of clothing and a particularly cinematic revelation.  It seems much has faded from my brain due to the splitting.  I don’t want to incriminate the content however.  I feel there is something much more honest in the episodic and the key significant fact is my desire to return.  A desire that remains in tact after this heart of darkness reached its completion. 

I went some place recently to purchase a physical copy of Demi Lovato’s 2017 album Tell Me You Love Me but no such copy was present.  I bought a sticker instead.  Of course I’ve been thinking recently about the influences on crimson peak.  To that end I’ve been seeking out plentiful interviews with Guillermo Del Toro.  And such is the nature of wisdom.  I drank whiskey and wine last night and fruit juice this morning.  And then of course looking through the Gomez files for any possible glimpse of Yamila.  Where have you gone?  Yamila, I swear….

You must be careful when purchasing those used goods online.  Though the temptation is real.  The struggle is real as the single moms say.  I’ve never seen the 12 Monkeys series but I do really enjoy the feature film.  There’s a card for a psychiatrist down and to the left of me.  no, there isn’t.  I have to read those ancient texts purchased on the beach and sunset.  Two two two was the opportune number at this point in time.  soon, we must experience the colorful narrative of a man minus one ear.  But we I mean me (sweet/dirty).  Of course I simply loved that linked florida excursion.  Standing on the lavender balcony and smoking a cigarette.  Need to catch up on deuce related matters.  Wires and deep fried brass really came through for me in big ways.  Not to mention those great bars in new York  (or Newark?) suburban areas where I drank clear colored drinks before making the only logical choice for my (not his) life.  And some other stuff.  Female lawyer in flesh colored pantyhose using a banana like a gun.  Dance all day.  I need to acquire so much.  I feel reasonably excited about some things though I’m not exactly sure what.  I see the key errors, what I’m missing through the inky pages.  Need to return to dada esque things.  rataplan rataplan.  Of course I need to return to the costume ball.  Dance all day, huh?  That’s what I’m thinking.  Wang.  Need to add to a collection.  You kids and your vintage music.  I love the feel of a classic little paperback in my hands.  I’m looking forward to that new Candyman movie.  I think it is in good hands.  Where did these magic rocks come from all of a sudden?  Jackie Brown is definitely my favorite Quentin Tarantino flick.  It is a perfect movie. 

You know, I just want to take a moment to say that art is so great.  I feel so good that I am able to enjoy art in so many different forms and so blessed to have so much access to it.  Thank You for that gift.  Thank You so much. 

I spent a decent chunk of my day reading an Elmore Leonard book.  it was overall a very pleasing experience.  Additionally, I watched the movie Saturday Night Fever last night though of course I’ve seen it before.  John Travolta is very charismatic in the lead role.  I also watched the Netflix movie Velvet Buzzsaw at some point recently while drinking heavily. 

I’m sure at some point over drinks I’ll be explaining the grim does not quite gel with the not grim.  Whatever the hell that means, real fluff here on my part, pure filler.  The horror does not work in my humble opinion.  Or something.  I highly enjoyed the satirical aspects.  If only the emphasis could have remained as such.  Bags of garbage as art.  Children playing around in the blood.  Worth it while becoming increasingly intoxicated.  I hope to have a good summer and read some plays and watch beautiful films with my windows open. 

Of course crocs always charm me and I wonder how long the croc will continue stand up alongside the lovely pastels.  Speaking of charms just the other day I bought a box of lucky charms and a carton of milk.  Upon returning home I poured some but  not all lucky charms into a bowl and then poured milk on top and then consumed this breakfast cereal though it was actually around 9:30 at night.  Of course, the denouement was a bit darker than I was anticipating but it brought the central themes home.  The musical accompaniment was great there at the end. 

He was watching a mystical fuchsia witch at play but the odd musical choices left him feeling conflicted.  It was like when all those non detectives were watching the naked woman dancing and then the gull flew away.  Of course, it is so similar to that choreographed work of art acting as a summons; murder done it portrait, carving a path of subjugation into the future, bloody expressionism as hateful devotion.  It is haunting to me to realize I made it all up but it all came true anyway. 

So to bring it all home: I’m really warming up to our leads here while also hoping to see a bit more from the supporters.  Second iterations are very difficult for some reason but this more than passed and if this is an example of a quote average installment then I think I shall be in store for an overall very pleasing time with this mythology.