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.
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