Often when I’m drinking
excessively and starting to feel good I think it would be nice to drink myself
to death and that this would be a great way to go out. Sometimes I’m lying on the floor and almost
believe I’m going to reach in back of my head to find a gun has just
materialized and I will then use this gun to blow my brains out. This is a happy comforting thought but so far
no such firearm has materialized. I listened
to one song by OV7 several times just a bit ago. Some odd new thing was discovered recently
although it actually is not very new and I find myself drawn to the nurse variation. Perfect blue is the order of the following week
I believe or no maybe it’s after but it is pleasing all around and I think
falls in line perfectly with the request of being cruised by the blonde. Yes, during those moments sexuality isn’t
really even a consideration. It’s a
complete non entity and how wonderful for that.
I need to buy a very large book which is actually part of a four volume
set. But not before I tend to the
individual of indeterminate sex who keeps throwing bricks at me (and of course I
keep mistaking this action for a sign of affection, possibly love). I think I’m going to go watch a movie now but
really, what the fuck do I know? The distance growing between…is
staggering.
Of course he
masturbated joyfully while watching a woman eating delicious looking creamy
alfredo (what did he wrapped around his head?
It looked designer!)! Was this
before or after that other bloke shoved peppers up his own ass (it makes the intercourse
spicier)! I drank coffee this morning and
the night before I watched Rocky V (probably my favorite of the series) and
drinking copious amounts of cheap whiskey and cheap wine. As I fell asleep I fantasized about being
physically tortured by a tall woman from another world. I know I had some weird dreams recently but I
can’t remember what they were. These days
I spend a lot of my time standing around with a shit-eating grin on my
face. I’m the king of something but I don’t
know what.
Of course, replacement
plastics are going to come in soon to augment the lovely springiness in place
all around us. Or something. I need a haircut and a stiff drink. No one has ever accused me of being a warrior
poet in the classic sense. I should have
been a photographer. I should have been
a watchmaker. I’m really tired of
people. I think I’m going to cancel
specific contact. Oh well, or maybe he’ll
have to kiss a dead guy’s jewelry after being embossed. The ear makes more sense now. It all happened over the course of a Sunday afternoon
while eating undercooked red meat (though not undercooked enough for my taste). Of course, I ate a bowl of rice
recently. And such is the nature of
wisdom.
Of course, I’ve spent
much of my recent days listening to the album Influence by Michael
Chiklis. It’s arguably the album which
has had the greatest impact on my life. On
an unrelated noted I’m looking for some very specific charms. I need a specific type of magic which can
counteract the recent broken glass accumulation. Or do I?
the more I learn the less I want to know. Would now be a good time to conjure up a
flock of woodpeckers? Mayhaps a real
charmer could visit the home and work magic.
Ah, that sensory tactile stuff, those cleverly disguised videos, maybe
what I actually need is very tactile very auditory fake magic. That actually makes a lot of sense. I need adjuster again. Didn’t quite pick up on things before. Are the signs legitimate? What does this mean exactly? I’ve said it before but I just adore the
movie Manhunter and it is still my favorite version of the Red Dragon story,
even more than the book! And forget that
POS from the aughts with Tony Hopkins and Eddie N. what a pile of shit. Very soon I hope to be outlining a new. But not before another iterations is loosed
and viewed by naked eyes. In the sun,
the golden light, of course, the great mistake I never made. Persona non grata and free nachos and the
charismatic captain of a sinking ship. Nourishment
at the very sight of you. So much
loveliness in the world. Star fish. Not quite right, purple in front, no, yellow
and orange. Back to those old days,
eh? One night at a potluck. There were two women named Vanessa, how
bizarre. Spring dress. I was the wordsmith. I was thanked one time, one time was all I needed
for a lifetime obsession. There’s a few
books I want to read. It is unfortunate
how ignorant I am. Gold Key by a charismatic
shifty man at the old train station. Not
actually a station though but a hub of commerce. Living breathing desire all around and yet I was
trapped and enslaved by something so awful it must never be put into words and
no one will ever truly understand except for yours falsely. Fun house; the
urgent sweaty apocalyptic sound of the end (los angeles, everything heading
down the scorching sun as we are all blissfully obliterated…for seven years I talked
to…(capital letter…)….he told me to send us all to….
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