only things that feel good any more. I hate waking up. Maybe I need to watch more musicals. Smile so lovely. Went back.
Dive. Just to see. But I knew there was no opportunity. I like throwing money down a rathole. Or do i? the more I learn the less I want to
know. I can only rip off. He still wanted to see her tonight. Misses her.
He is an insect. That’s when it occurs
to the proprietor [(here chuk chuk) though in this case the killer is me – oh how
little has changed since], brief tangential aside here as I remember being at a
party and drinking a soda pop and someone said a very kind word to me in
absolute silence, perhaps sensing that I am indeed a virus but the kindness was
never forgotten, lovely moment though nothing makes a damn lick of sense now. Need to watch fraggle rock. Of course I now realize I have no codes. Need codes to get through this. Guts man.
Right angles have me. Nourishment
at the very sight of. Need to find an
old piece of parchment and proffer as a gift.
Trying to find solace in the Mother of God. Some days are…. Some of these words from that night are not
bad. Or are they? Palm on my back. How could I forget? Always the greatest thing. Palm yellow.
Palm Sunday. It started on a Sunday. Libra if I recall. The greatness of libra. Around the first time noticed. Something mysterious. Something wonderful. Was I laying down in the bedroom, moonlight
on my face. Making these grand
designs. Things that will never
happen. Shaping a nothing history. Pawn of something else. From a far off state. Pizza beans get the margarita treatment. Right angles again. Something something with dolphins last night
and I thought something had meaning but I was probably mistaken as usual. We got the time wrong, don’t you
remember? Exhibitionist. Ink on the side. Looked different during the days of
libra. No, my anticipation was coloring
things. Tainted inside. I am tainted inside. Need to pretend to care. Need to pretend that something matters. I like to think of myself as a narcissistic who
habitually escapes accountability by framing himself as a victim. Apropos of nothing, I use off brand
aftershave. But yes, it was much like
that for a long time. But that was only
earlier this year was it not? Another wasted
year. Still, I search for codes. Moose.
Fish. No sunlight. Black sunshine. Ice. Black
ice. Carved from ice. Pure white.
Snow. Ice. Can’t see a goddam thing. Seasonal depression right around the
corner. Seasonal depression all year
round. Of course, I think as my head
goes light, how utterly proper. The other
day, saying your name during the critical moment. Awful moment because everything from me is
awful. Need to throw it all away. Oh the
peculiar pleasures of fear. Said your
name but not sure I could see your face.
When did it start? At some point
so casually. Has him all figured out
now. Not much to figure out. Staring down at my hands, reminding me of someone
else’s memory of a painting. All figured
out, that’s so nice. Laughing. Once leaving to go and I in a red shirt,
insensitive asshole in a red shirt. Big ugly
guy in a red shirt. Came around quick. Hug. Not ready.
Everything bitter and awful. Never
learned the basics. Never learned how to
function. Maybe if cutups come to mix
then all these things can and/or will make sense. If I could redo that moment. But of course it was already redone but of
course it was not real. Didn’t see the
tears though theoretically those were real.
Nothing I say makes any real sense.
Of course a reenactment likely there to simply move things along. Culminating in liquid cake. Liquid cake.
Outside in the cold. Come back to
cold again. Glacier. Ice. Frost. Snow. Cold
cake. Codes have me. But I can’t figure out the right codes. Reenactment next to federal reserve notes and
grease. Gotta strip back my identity a
little. I belong in the service of
the. I love the word the. Yes, I need a pair of scissors now. Get it all out there. You’re an asshole through and through. Born asshole.
But don’t be like that other one.
Don’t proffer something on a small square. You’re shit.
You’ve always been shit. It’s
thematically resonant, your (my) identity as an asshole and shit. It’s consistent. But yes, I do like this idea. I guess.
I don’t have programs though. That’s
why I need tools. Trying to condense all
these moments and it doesn’t add up to anything. canned responses. Hand on chest, flattered look on face. Of course it has to be rehearsed. Not a knock. A necessity. Of course we’re criminals. In this world we have to be criminals. Turn off your eyes. Pen and imac.
I don’t remember these dreams. Did
they ever really happen? The canned
response is perfect. Trying a new
look. Goes back to office I suppose. Something akin. Professional.
Office last night. Office this morning. In my head.
Reaching back so many years. W. how the hell did this all happen so
fast? Must be the week of xmas. Which now portends well for the culmination. New and then never seen again. The exercise is best. Mane. The
mane. And the desire for sweet
adoration. This is everything. I just want to die. Little death.
Sweetest sin. The chances of swift
exit increase great during those initial days after purchase. Makes sense.
Like the old fashioned. Vehicles combining
now with all this. Fantasy. Tell the truth. Vacation photography side by side. Breathing in.
so sweet and beautiful. Rebirth
(Yon…). Ugliest place. Everything fake. No need for reality anymore. Oysters.
Rain coming down on a turquoise car.
Maybe that can also help define it.
Can’t wait to see again. Late.
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