1035

 

I watched a movie called Frank & Lola the other night and really enjoyed.  I drank a bottle of cheap ass red wine whilst watching and then I watched part of a piece of crap submarine movie that I intend to finish today.  Janus reports to me that the number four will be in question with respect to going inland.  I personally never ventured to that part of California.  It looks like digital celluloid shit on my screen but maybe something can be done about that?  I wish I were in the city cause then I’d go to the premiere.  I haven’t obtained digital justice.  It looks highly strange.  In the 90’s these curios were everywhere.  It was a great time to be alive.  Too bad I squandered my life and now I’m just a useless fuckup.  Damn, I need a drink.  I needed one last night too.  Listened at some point to a symposioum with john mack and budd Hopkins.  Fascinating.  Did everything just end when the 90’s ended?  I can’t think right now.  I can’t write anything worth a damn.  the q and a was an oddly intelligent one.  you know what movie I love?  Cabaret Maxime.  Great movie.  Michael imperioli and Ana Pardrao are great in it.  Of course I see the parallels to Killing of a Chinese Bookie! I’m not a fucking idiot! That’s a damn fine movie too! I had fish for lunch.  And avocado for my lunch grease.  I recently watched a thick Hispanic woman who was wearing stockings, I watched her press down on the pedals in her car and say suggestive things.  her toenails were painted blue.  I had a pair of used hosiery around my head and I just fucking lost it!  The books I’m reading right now are dreamcatcher, low down and the vegetarian.  There are also some short story collections I’m working through.  I’m feeling weird, wondering I cooked that fish properly.  I watching this thick white british female wrestler wearing shiny hosiery and I just fucking lost it.  Went off! I really like jazz.  My dream in life is to amass a massive collection of jazz vinyl records only for them to be lost in a house flood. 

Did travis walton’s hoax ruin my life?  Maybe.  But I can’t blame him.  We’re all hustlers.  Walton should be at that club with J Lo, shaking his fine ass alongside the sumptuous Lizzo.  Of course I’m reminded of the film Guilty by Association, perhaps Morgan Freeman’s finest hour.  People need to take a closer look at the Pascagoula abduction.  It may be the only credible one ever in the history of mankind.  Look at the creature design.  Very unique.  Like nothing else ever reported.  I need to watch a gamera movie soon.  I was listening to and loving jerry cantrell’s double album degradation trip yesterday.  It sounded good the windows rolled down in my big manly mac truck.  With mud flaps! I want to buy a revolver for home protection but I’m too afraid I’d get brave after a couple drinks and blow my miserable fucking brains out one night.  If I did buy one I’d probably go for a little snubby like the kind Dennis Hopper’s character Tom Ripley used in The American Friend.  I love that fucking movie.  One of my personal favorites.  Hopper is my favorite of the live action Ripleys.  Ripley Under Ground was actually a very funny book.  Highsmith is excellent at balancing the dark and twisted with some (gallows) humor.  I’d like to find a vintage hardcover of that book.  The movie Ripley’s Game was cool too but I prefer The American Friend and I much prefer Hopper’s interpretation over Malkovich’s.  or do i?! the more I learn the less I want to know.  I drank a tall frost glass of modelo yesterday.  Salt around the rim just how I like it.  I only feel like a man when drinking a mug of suds.  I like Walt Simonson’s artwork.  I’m starting to read his Thor run and then I’ll jump to Orion.  I’m obsessed with Brazilian bbw’s. 

Apropos of nothing I was think about back acne the other day.  backne as it’s affectionately called.  I always liked the suggestion of cleaning something using the oil from my nose and forehead.  The human body is so grotesque.  One of my favorite Brazilian bbw’s was wearing red lace panties and then black lace panties and I couldn’t decide which I preferred.  I miss correspondence.  I need to start correspondence again.  I like to smell books when I read them.  I’m real big on the olfactory sense.  There’s a Mark Knopfler album right next to me as I type out this garbage.  A double album in fact.  Though I’m writing in silence.  I wish I had a typewriter.  Or do i?! the more I learn the less I want to know.  I really like the show killjoys.  It’s the only thing keeping me sane at the moment.  I really enjoyed X . Mia Goth is great.  it really captured that greasy look and feel.  I’m all about grease.  For my lunch grease I had avocado again.  Grease is so interesting.  Forehead grease.  Nose grease.  I like when in movies and I guess real life when people rub their noses together after hot breathy kisses, exchanging the nose grease.  Nothing is more romantic than exchanging nose grease.  I really like jazz albums because the liner notes are extremely informative.  Jazz is so cool.  I also like rot.  I like when things get wet – like cardboard boxes – and start to rot.  It all makes sense if we’re just a primitive monkey species.  There’s not enough to fucking do anything ! not enough time in the day! 

Sonya Yoncheva’s Rebirth is a lovely album.  I think it would be quite a delightful experience to see her live.  I might watch a Wayne Wang movie later on today.  I enjoyed driving through the rain while listening to Peter Gabriel’s album Security.  Actually, I don’t know if I ever really enjoy anything.  I hate myself and I hate my life and I wish my worthless mommy had gone through with the abortion.  I’m a piece of shit. 

1067

 

Sitting the movie theatre now.  Realized I should have worked in bugs.  But now everything has been normalized so it’s not quite the same.  Try to recapture.  Only darkness and I should be so happy.  But I only feel grey, miserable.  Happiness is silly anyway.  Doesn’t matter that I don’t feel happy.  Deeper than that.  The inherent pointlessness of it all.  And everyone getting up and down.  adolescents so disgusting.  Not just them.  Everyone to the left but they don’t use their own staircase.  Why are people so awful?  I’ve forgotten everything.  Need to stop drinking.   The occult.  Looking into the occult during the day and then having trouble sleeping at night.  Book right next to me.  with a deep indigo cover. One of the books that saved me during the last year.  I read it through an alcoholic haze.  A Brazilian bbw in pink panties is letting one rip on my face and telling me what some of her favorite foods are and I’m suffocating.  At least I think that’s what she’s saying, I don’t really speak the language.  or do i? the more I learn the less I want to know.  At some point earlier in things I was opening a new bag of used pantyhose and wrapping half a dozen pairs around my face and breathing in deep.  I need to drink some coffee.  I often feel bad when I drink coffee.  No, not right.  It’s the booze that makes me feel bad.  Clive Barker’s writing revives me, makes me want to keep going.  The way those pink lace panties were gobbled up by her massive quaking ass was so sexy.  I just drank coffee and smelled some books.  Been listening to a lot of Layne recently.   I need to get clean somehow.  Time and again I tell myself.  Need to watch that one interview with Iggy Pop again.  And listen to avenue.  Need more wax.  Don’t obfuscate.  Augmentation.  We’re all so deeply sad.  I love the new Batman movie.  It’s so fresh but right now I’d say Robert Pattinson is my second favorite Batman after Michael Keaton.  Who knows if that could change?  Realized over and over again what a worthless failure I am.  All so empty.  I am empty.  Yes, that time wanting nothing more than to be extinguished.  Realizing my life is utterly useless. 

All in head.  The masquerade.  From a 13^th century book.  karla turner.  The implications terrifying.  I’m not wanted anywhere.  Looked at me with such glorious disdain. And then all I wanted was the nonexistent comfort of the rhapsody in blue.  Breathe in deep now.  Knee on head.  It’s okay, just let go now.  Maybe go outside and run.  Happens outside.  I’m so empty.  I ‘m such a waste.  Nothing ever comes to completion.  Making the same errors over and over again.  Random facts have me.  growling.  Could use a drink but I don’t want one but I do.  8^th tower.  Why does everything feel so awful?  Behind every photograph I am deeply unhappy.  I am never myself.  There is no true self when it comes to me.  goddess of death has me again.  Everywhere I turn to is emptiness. 

I love the book dreamcatcher by Stephen king.  Or do I?  the more I learn the less I want to know.  I was listening to dolly parton earlier.  I’ve been listening to more classic country lately.  Or have i?  the more I learn the less I want to know.  I drank a lot of tequila the other night and watched a Sandra bullock movie.  One of my favorite film scores is Christopher Young’s score for Hellraiser.  I love the comic book From Hell.  The movie had a really good score too.  I like to play that particular score when I’m preparing a glass of absinthe.  I’m gonna read some classic moon knight comic books in preparation for the show even though there’s a decent chance I’ll never watch the show.  Need to get splatt.  I recently drank black coffee.  I’m going to have a can of chunk light tuna fish for dinner.  I was recently watching a big woman in lace panties sit on a thick stuffed burrito and really smash the shit out of it with her voluminous ass.  I like drinking juice in the morning.  I’m going to watch a movie later today.  I watched two movies yesterday.  I like music.  I like when pages are intentionally left blank . I like when people threaten to take their banking elsewhere.  I like when Mexican regional mexicano and pop artist Ana Barbara wears pantyhose.  I wish she would use my face as her personal footrest after a long concert in pantyhose and that she would laugh at me and berate me in her native tongue.  I love failure and self destruction.  I’ve been failing a lot recently which makes me happy.  I really like books by ryu murakami. 

What did karla turner know?  Or ted rice?  Or john mack.  The 90’s are coming back in style!  Lot of people being herded around like cattle.  Looks of depression or dread or something and then so much screaming later on.  Seeing some type of floating head on the ceiling.  Voices coming out of things that shouldn’t have voices.  Stomach acids.  Was this all from the influence of the culture, fire in that instance.  Even way down under o rmaybe not as I have a terrible sense of georgraphy.  Meteorites.  Always on the radio.  Local expert.  So easy to ask the leading questions.  They say the darndest things.  I need to go sit in a corner and think about triangles for a while.  The whole environmentalism angle is so 90’s.  apropos of nothing, mutiny dressed up as a luchadora really gets me revved up.  Luchadoras really get me revved up.  Five dollars is a steal.  I don’t believe disclosure is coming soon.  I really like the book the tommyknockers by Stephen king.  Maybe king should write more books about aliens.  Aliens scare the shit outta me.  I don’t believe travis anymore but part of me still does cause I’m a candy ass.  I like dennis cooper’s books a lot.  I wish I was good at something but I’m really just an ugly and pathetic fuckup and I wish my mommy had gone through with the abortion.  I’m writing a reminder here to watch more classic star trek.  I have thirst. 

fuzzy

 

Butterfly and box making me cry.  Common factor there.  still writing reports.  My god I feel terrible.  Is there some type of chemical imbalance going on?  Can people feel it emanating from me?  is that why all the strange comments?  Climbing up on.  That always makes me feel good.  But I don’t seek out anything good anymore.  Tears in my eyes.  Blood of.  I was driving somewhere in the rain and fog and listening to an album with a grey cover.  Too many bangs to the front of the head.  Need to rewatch throne of.  Especially cause just last week i. 

Cruising into things, rid of me.  Steve is so sparse.  Balls nasty.  Too much moulah but I did it anyway.  Found myself last night at a sad ass whiskey bar, praying that no one would talk to me.  More reports.  Only dangerous if anyone is reading.  Thinking about glossies again.  Is this the end of things?  Wondering why I don’t feel anything.  My worthless life flashing before my eyes.  Maddison with two D’s has me.  Need to seek out shadows again.  I’m driving to eat a cake though I’m not really a big cake fan.  Everyone who was never in my corner is now abandoning me.  Wanna hit up a bar soon and drink vodka cause it’s not as obvious.  Knocking on the back door.  I don’t even mind the color grey but everything is.  Lemon kid over there in the corner.  Pain in my gut.  Waiting on some wax.  Waiting on the smell of rain.  Words are.  I’m awful and that’s why everything else is.  Never really put myself into it.  All my fault.  The center is me.  The term specialist is one that depresses me.  I windmilled in with steve again.  Or did i?  the more I gurn the less I want to row.  Gurning is a huge turn on for me.  Gotta get back to this type of energy, I said while looking at a picture of a man eating a massive cheeseburger.  When did it all become so meaningless?  Euphoria.  That’s not good photojournalism, he said! The market is falling fast!  A picture of an arrow pointing down would illustrate this very well.  Man, I’m depressed.  I know! I’ll drink more alcohol! Alcohol is known to help with depression!  I’m eating seaweed again.  Need to hunt down an old paperback copy of.  Need to listen to things with sparser production.  I’m too scared to go that drive in even though I really like the taste of oreos.  I’m a fat pig.  Chuck Jones inspiration.  Is.  Al.  it’s all so empty.  Just floating.  Drifting.  Varying degrees of empty.  Made a mess of it all.  Need to go buy more carbonated water.  I wish I was a narcotics agent.  Drank til I passed out last night.  Nothing really makes me happy.  Sitting in the auditorium.  Realized, not even this anymore.  But I can’t even cry about it.  nothing makes me happy but nothing makes me sad enough to cry.  Except sometimes I guess I’ll laugh and/or cry at random meaningless moments and I won’t know why.  Cry from hell.  I like yellowed pages.  Should I try the new pokemon game? Is all hope lost? Donut in the sky.  Probably need to go off and think about triangles for a while.  They shoved brown shit into my mouth.  Breed. 

All over and I feel nothing.  Why don’t I feel anything?  What is wrong with me.  I’ve lost all ability to feel anything.  Trapped everywhere.  Nothing means anything.  All these worthless symbols.  Hate for a bed.  Need shadows.  Maybe.  Orange landscapes.  Need extreme closeups of plant life.  Biology shit.  Everything is delayed.  I caused this pain.  Water.  But I can’t write anything.  Nothing purifying.  I am the cause of all pain.  Heaving.  Talk to.  Laying in blood.  Can’t come up with anything.  Short little bursts.  A phone somewhere.  Very long cord.  No connection.  I have no connection anywhere anymore.  Awful person.  can’t feel anything.  Only felt bad for so long I can’t properly feel anything at all now.  Don’t know how to.  Deserves the spilling of words.  Can’t.  filing reports.  Who is my case manager?  Need to enter another dimension.  The reports won’t change anything.  No idea what he wants or what he is thinking.  Nothing will make sense in the morning.  Too much around.  Have to get rid of it all.  No chance for anything real.  Either before or after.  Won’t make any difference.  I don’t know what I’m doing.  Analytics.  No rhapsody.  No master of languages.  Be anything.  But really?  Out of your head.  Anything else?  The recent spilled words.  Few thousand.  So meaningless.  Midnight eyes.  Midnight blood. No thinking.  Lost sight of everything.  Who else is left.  The end of language.  last letter.  So complicated.  So impossible.  No fair to anyone.  No home.  Nothing feels good.  Head hurts.  Can’t base anything on.  So selfish.  Awful person.  there would be no chance for anything.  Do not want anymore.  Drifting.  Eden.  Drifting Eden. 

Feeling now.  Something.  Everything kinda hazy though.  Not sure what any of it means.  -I don’t think there is a correct way to go.  Every decision I make is wrong.  I haven’t been right about anything.  My head is not right.  Hazy now.  I sort of recognize this feeling.  It’s not entirely unwelcome.  I like negative feelings. So in that case are they actually negative.  Selfish again.  Same mistakes over and over.  Crashing. 

Need to eat more potato crisps.  That’s the answer.  And a big bucket of fried fucking chicken.  Ravenous.  I wish dark knight rises had featured Egghead and Chief Screaming Chicken as the villains instead of Bane and Thalia.  Then maybe that movie wouldn’t be such a big pile of crap.  They still could have kept Catwoman though I would have cast a massive 450 plus pound Brazilian BBW in the role and there would have been a lot of mukbang oriented scenes involving boiled eggs and maybe big piles of ramen noodles.  And such is the nature of wisdom!

baked i, line down centers, easy to imagine, if only

 

My hands are shaking.  Too much caffeine.  Too much alcohol last night.  Every night.  Alien surgeries have me.  they shoved brown shit in my mouth.  Venus.  Everything is tacky and disgusting.  Oh god, please stop talking.  I ruin every moment.  There is no moment I am a part of that isn’t ruined.  My presence ruins everything.  Face going red.  Police outfit.  There was a police outfit.  Fishnets.  Couldn’t handle it.  Can’t handle anything.  Feel like people are sensing something odd lately.  Ashen gray.  The color of.  My life is.  I’m writing reports.  I’m reporting all these things seen and heard and felt.  North African towns have me.  the act of writing reports.  So much of my miserable putrid existence.  I’m a man of letters.  Hosiery has me.  the Rhapsody in Blue.  And typical ugly dumb shit me fucking it all up.  Where was I last night?  Stumbling over words, drinking whiskey and reading from a book with a purple cover.  Mica all week long.  Void.  Everything sparse and haunting.  Back to aliens again.  Looking for communion.  No, never, not that kind.  I’m not able to properly visualize anything.  So lovely.  Oven broken down.  raw dough.  Anyone else.  Missing someone.  Already dropped thousands of words and always room for more.  I ate a grilled cheese sandwich with turkey the other day.  or did i?  the more I learn the less I want to know.  Can only talk some of time.  I’m in a constant state of misery.  Most everything feels awful.  But I still write the reports.  It’s what I do.  i wish I wore a hat.  My substance abuse problem is just alcohol.  How dull I am .  man, I’m tearing up right now.  2 crocodiles.  Crocs.  Something sparse.  I need pieces of ice.  Last letter no longer wants to be heard.  I’m so awful.  Just want to collapse into the Rhapsody in Blue.  Late at night – but not too late – where I am collapsing in other ways, internal collapse, complete breakdown of personality, just want to lean in where disguises have been abandoned and maybe feel something real.  Probably wouldn’t happen though.  Just screw something else up.  Gonna open up a can of shit real soon and eat it.  I’d like to move in a phase where I dress more like the Peterson iteration.  So sleepy now.  Not sure how possible after all the coffee.  Probably because everything feels awful.  No one’s fault but my own. I want that clear.  She just kept talking and talking and it was lovely but I so badly wanted it to stop.  I’m not a good person.  something bizarre is taking place.  Some of plot unfolding all around me.  as long as I keep writing reports.  Even that is bereft of anything revelatory.  All just borrowed goods.  Can’t do anything write.  Except the other month I did enjoy cutting paper.  All alone in my posh flat, cutting paper and a female martial arts film on the background and drinking I was something almost approaching a semblance of happy.  Hahaha that’s funny.  No, it really was a good time.  my emotions were at an interesting high.  And so I dared to cut paper.  And now?  Now I should just throw on a funny hat, do whatever it is that idiots do!  damn, no pussyfooting has me.  tip of my tongue tasting fabric.  I am disease.  I ate ice cream earlier today.  Or did i?  the more I learn the less I want to know.  Yes, def did.  With strawberries.  There’s nothing quite as good as strawberry!  Except maybe….cake!  no, actually, I’m not really a big fan of cake (chuckles).  Someone of indeterminate gender may be throwing bricks at me very soon.  Don’t waste time on worthless bullshit.  So much of my time, just wasting it.  I’m gonna go brush my teeth now.  Few things in life I enjoy more.  Glossies.  Order of glossies please.  Let’s not go down that path.  Returning home and everything empty.  There is nothing inside me.  can’t let it normalize.  Any compliments are false because they do not understand the complete picture.  Or some bullshit.  Blueberrys have me.  something might make me feel good again.  Probably just don’t deserve to. No, don’t distract by those types of statements.  Entirely my fault.  Need to read more comics in the coming days.  Been starting the year off with.  I’m gonna order some books soon.  No end in sight.  No way out.  Can’t get out of anything.  Always the same afterward with the let’s dance thing.  Today, so different.  Just want to see the smile.  Can see it in the eyes.  Want full picture.  I want to be in a bar at midnight.  Everything feels dangerous.  What is happening?  Why is everything so awful.  Don’t obfuscate.  You’re in search of feelings.  Would like to buy a lot of steel comics.  Love Denys.  Now everything is so grey.  How cliché.  A haze.  Blue.  The orange landscapes may be able to help me.  the third mother.  Extraterrestrial terrains.  Need to go toward invention.  Create some place new.  To live and die in.  that is the only solution to any of this.  Can’t make myself feel better.  But still vomiting it out anyway.  Rhapsody in Blue.  Let me ask you something.  Why’d you come here tonight?  I remember buying someone a drink at one point.  No one paying attention .  such a relief when the moment passes.  So empty.  I am so empty.  Awful.  This music I’m listening to is great though.  Damn.  Maddison glossies.  Don’t do it.  No point.  Need to read ronin.  And lots of other things.  I’m human garbage.  Cold.  Can barely keep eyes open but I’m not sleepy.  I haven’t drank any liquor today but I feel like I have.  Scraping the barrel.  Need a case officer.  There’s no one in charge.  Hate to talk to people.  Hate to see people.  Fingers hurting.  Almost nothing good happened this week.  Oh well, doesn’t really matter.  I’ve been watching a show lately that I like. 

M(7)

 

ID.  I’ve been ignoring the obvious.  No, not ignoring. Vampires in the morning.  But obfuscating again.  Disguises.  Layers.  So who ordered the…oh, here we go!  Yoga. Not quite what you think but it is.  Always in the morning.  Not always.  Just always at my worst in the morning.  Though I suppose I’m also at my worst throughout the day and at night.  Different shades of shit.  Can’t lose focus here on the central idea.  More than idea.  He wants to be the one who always brings a….  this is the lasting image.  Again and again.  Two ponies.  Anticipation through the door.  Pit of rot inside of me.  This particular bouquet.  Ambergris.  Endangered species.  This would be grand titular.  Grand guignol.  No, stop trying to run from this.  Adoration is the word you most commonly used before.  Underneath.  So delightful.  Awful word.  Needing to stretch, to break.  Colors.  Pastels.  Fuck, can’t think straight.  Pastels, of course merging with.  Dark. Tones.  See everything through the glass, plastic.  Zeroes and ones.  Never been a big denim fan.  Or have i?  the more I learn the less I want to know.  See, can be more playful in this particular edition because it’s all about something so nothing and yet so everything.  Hahaha, more bullshit.  But still somehow it works right?  Paired with simplicity.  And someone else advising not to use that particular.  Followed by laughter.  So direct.  Such is that world.  Why is there nothing others can do that I can’t do?  So useless.  All the struggle. All the attempts.  All the time wasted.  For something that doesn’t matter.  Nothing really matters.  Great when straight.  Ambergris again.  This particular bouquet.  Is everything.  When passing by.  From a distance.  Then the other day, something bitter but that’s not quite the right word.  What’s the good type?  I know there is something.  So busy, everyone screaming, final look.  Of course things had to be mixed.  But there was nothing bad there.  Poison would seep out from me, from my interior rot.  Eclipsed on the inside. How stupid.  I am rot.  Nothing worthwhile within me.  All the things we desperately cling to feel so pointless. 

Oh please let today be the day! And then tomorrow I will be praying for the same thing.  No sense of tomorrow in the moment. Finding nourishment at the very sight of.  Layers of hell.  Dreaming of walking.  Dreaming of doors.  Dim lights.  Glancing over.  Hoping.  Oh please let today be the day.  I’m awful.  Awful. 

Yes, competing now.  Duologies.  Scattering.  Need to get something out.  Keep with the same theme though.  Resonance.  Don’t try to hide.  This is all glorious surface.  Hence the wheels.  Wheels in the morning.  Spells.  Closest approximation to anything is summer in winter.  Walking on water.  After the next one.  Returned.  And glory.  Pastels again.  Everything over grey.  Impossible to avert.  These are all chemicals.  That is something very important to remember.  It’s not not chemical.  Is it all chemical.  Primitive.  Ah, just look right there through the rich numerical prism.  Plastic again.  Or glass.  Something I’m not sure.  Where we’re made all illusory except for the way we wish to present…the falsity… and sometimes of great assistance in ridding oneself, myself…a representation of reality.  And right there, through: just because I doesn’t mean I’m.  adds up.  100, 100, 100. Pretty sure most.  Can’t complete anything at this point.  But everything is just…can’t think of the word.  Illusion not quite right. More like delusion but there’s something else I’m trying to grasp on to.  Beautiful.  Beautiful.  Said it before and say it again.  I’m trying to make this one joyous but I can’t seem to manage because inside I am so deeply ugly.  Fuck, you see what happens.  I’m trying to just express something that should be like…the approximation of one of my favorite Ariadna albums (always obfuscating), something like that, see how direct I am being.  There should just be sugar and sun and lovely color.  Be patient.  Blood.  Leather, remember the leather.  Multiple times leather.  Every morning something now.  Practicing the position.  Dancing, hair up.  Pressure.  Inches apart.  Smile slow to appear.  Sometimes straight down.  I am a piece of shit.  This presentation is, don’t you understand?  Playing to strengths.  Playing to tastes.  Of course noticeable.  Does it actually  mean anything.  No, but it doesn’t need to.  That’s the very point of it.  The essence of it.  Colors, shades.  Ambergris.  Encapsulating all of this.  The final days of your (my) relevance.  Never really had any to begin with.  recapturing.  No, nothing to capture.  How many years?  Lucky numbers.  God, nothing matters.  But still, in that moment, aren’t you smiling?  Aren’t you taken?  So meaningless, chemicals.  And then you ascribe something.  Just focus on that…meaninglessness and the unbridled delight of it all.  You are (I am) so sad and empty.  Eyes moving over.  Invitations to sin.  Reveling in sin.  In love with sin.  Little death.  Touch.  Combination of senses, combination of sensations.  Leather.  Texture.  Pastels.  The colors.  Ambergris.  Particular bouquet.  Adoration.  Step lively.  And in the morning a different one each time, vampires in the morning.  Denier.  So sweet.  Adoration.  Combination of everything perfume.  Seam.  Even in that moment where everything was utter foul chaos, such a direct look, all business, so businesslike, so lovely.  Of course I think as my head goes light, how utterly proper.  Different bouquet.  Normally so terrible but no, not with you.  Remembering now how I wanted to drown.  Subsumed.  And I’ve become so cautious.  So bereft of anything….   Looking right at me.  This will all go away.  As it should.   And then that hidden moment.  Thoughts spilling over, thoughts clouding over, doubling over.  Trying to fit it all into one singular space.  Name on lips.  Remember every look in one single moment.  All chemical, all meaningless.  Silly, lack of meaning is the very point.  Is it so much effort or is it effortless?  Inspiration.  The center of everything.  Entry, look over, contact, smile, rush, lovely, closer contact, stronger rush, meaningless, beautiful, quick and die, sweetest sin. 

M(6)

 

moments after.  God I’m so grotesque.  I hate myself so fucking much.  I am my least favorite person.  stands to reason since I’m the most putrid person I know.  Fuck, I’m still searching, always obfuscating.  Only rhtyyms .  there were only rhythyms.  At the Angle.  Fitting I was at the Angle.  I was in right angle room.  Haven’t gone further than this it’s been said and so true.  God, I’m pathetic.  Mother, please pray for me.  I’m so not worth it.  You idiot.  You dumb fucking worthless piece of this.  Ugly bastard.  Fat ugly bastard.  No well wishing.  Gotta forget everything.  Attentive still.  So much chaos.  In every kingdom there must exist.  Want to cry but I can’t.  am I capable of feeling genuine emotion or am I simply enacting a learned proximity?  I’m not capable of anything good, that much is certain.  Yes, want to cry and slam my head against something but I’m only capable of the latter.  Brain on fire.  Shards through my thoughts.  More than cover it.  Ghost.  Rather intense look.  Skipping.  Not me!  exercise.  Each little thread of fabric.  Grey.  Oh to….  The master.  Oh to….  Adoration.  One pure moment.  Pure is not the right word.  Never could be.  Close proximity?  I need to drink heavily now.  Yes, green.  Green wheels.  Time and again I tell myself….  Sitting there in a corner.  Time and again I tell myself….   Those wheels….eliciting a….don’t it make you….don’t it make you….i miss….no code here.  gotta piece that all together (someone will have to piece me together).   Yes, blocking again.  But someone else, multiple elses were capable and I had a brief moment where I was able to feel that this was better than….  Still, not the right phrasing.  Someone should be.  No, not that either.  Somewhere here on earth.  That is a lovely approximation.  Forgive me for being such a raving asshole all the goddam time.  I really fucking hate myself for whatever that’s worth.  Yes, I deserve nothing good.  But seeing that good ,need to focus on that.  Need to disappear.  Point it at left side of chest.  I’m sure those last couple minutes will be deeply unpleasant but a couple unpleasant minutes can undo one MASSIVE fucking mistake.  You’re such a fucking fool, such a fucking idiot.  Remedy is omission.  Remove yourself.  Only sane thing to do.  Only good thing to do.  Boxed in everywhere because I am nothing if not a constant worthless fuckup.  

Dispiriting. Praising the plastic industry. Stay away, stay away.  Good lord all in a haze now.  None of it matters.  Could it be the end? One would hope.  Cause nothing really matters, nothing really matters.  Fading.  Drifting away.  Don’t have the strength for anything anymore.  All fragmentary.  As it should be I suppose.  Orange to black and white.  One look.  I can…streets of fire.  Need to make the connection there.  All impossible.  You’re fucking up again.  Obfuscating.  After all the bullshit from days prior.  To be able to engage in discussion.  Nothing heated now.  Now everything numb.  But to explain.  Up on the way up and up on the way back.  Gray.  Fog.  No easy entry points.  But if I could’ve explained it all.  Passing by, everything glass and neon.  Ice cream.  All left behind now.  Go back to times before.  Everything so brief.  In this place of fantasy.  Buy and sell fantasy.  Because it all returns to grey now.  Returns to nothing.  Shut down and pretend.  Try to find a sliver of meaning anywhere.  All soon to be broken.  Up at night, feeling these forces slowly coming together.  Moving toward.  Slouching toward.  Nothing makes me happy.  That’s not really a bad thing though.  Maybe that belongs somewhere else. 

No, all straight now, driving around, everything deep green, lush, fog, water, grey water, everything grey, listening to something grey, no easy entry points, all so dated, not a bad thing, it’s what happens when you focus so much on craft, consummate craftsman, careful craft, so insular, world passing you by, who is this for?  Of course, only the devoted will wait around long enough to unravel, to dig through the dirt and see if there is anything of value.  I can’t make pithy statements.  I can’t make worthwhile observations about anything.  Turn to the right, nothing there.  This is the dream.  Not quite right, make corrections.  Turn to the right, make pithy observations.  What are we talking about again?  Everything I do is so uninteresting.  Share with no one.  Don’t obfuscate.  Share with someone.  All illusory.  Returning to the place of fantasy.  Poison living inside of me.  Alter all of your thoughts so they do not feel real anymore.  Neither one of us quite existed in this reality at that moment.  All of us sad.  Can you understand there is no reality here?  There is no kindness within me.  There is only a desperation for some false connection.  And then a need for it to be reborn.  Going in one direction.  What could I even relate?  So hard to begin again.  Nothing to offer.  Nothing inside.  I don’t know anymore.  And you’ll never know.  Of course I see how washed up I am.  How utterly useless.  It’s hurts so much to talk to anyone.  Things are spilling over.  Overlapping.  I just need to go and get through those passages, don’t you see the similarities.  So much canned drama.  Just willfully stay trapped on the island.  Why not.  Obfuscate but not really, all found in those pages.  Few minutes genuine.  Hard to say.  Impossible to say.  What is genuine.  What is anyone even looking for?  It all comes from me and that’s why it’s so worthless.  He just wanted to talk.  For a little while.  Got to get rid of the wheels  driving all night.  Make yourself scarce.  Hide.  Forget.  If only there was a way so they would forget.  Silly you.  As though anyone would remember anyway.  Of course, I think as my head goes light, how utterly proper.  I am worthless. 

M[(5)too heavy, still even, flowers the]

 

 

 As ever i did not want to get out of bed.  So hard to face the daily failure that is my life.  Yet, in that warmth, a new and unexpected iteration.  Always trying so hard to tear down the tenderness.  All scattered.  Returning back to the city.  Looking for flaws, predictions of pain.  I went out for ice cream once and would love to do so again.  No, what an idiotic thing to say.  Ice cream and winter coats.  Beer and winter coats.  Red beer and winter coats.  These are all the things falling away from me.  Where was i?  on the floor.  On the sheets.  Dawn at the window.  So stupid.  Not peace exactly.  Vampires in the morning again.  “…never used to go dancing…”  now, I see, never taking the place, it makes sense, that’s fine though.  Not the issue.  There is no issue.  Unexpected slide across the back.  Need to stop counting days.  Too many days full of nothing.  Sickly flowers.  Not mine.  Searching for something that is true.  Fuck.  Trying to ask her to pray for me.  Puzzling.  Venus and the devil.  Venus and the devil.  The devil guides our hands.  Deep inside all alone, counting off the days.  Living for evil tenderness, blocked off alone.  Curtains drawn, no one allowed.  These are just detours.  No, these are part and parcel.  Obfuscating. 

 

Days fewer now.  Stirring some type of correction.  There in the corner.  Everyone looks at you askance.  Stop avoiding.  There at the dawn, awful morning, Venus in the morning, Venus in mourning.  The illusion of domesticity, the allure of intimacy, the illusion of intimacy, the desire for intimacy, evil of the flesh, evil in the flesh, stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it, love the great demon, angel with black wings, you have to pierce through this, just want to sleep for 20 more minutes, fangs in the morning, fear of the embrace, this is idiotic, someone said, just bone and meat like all the rest, bundles of nerves screaming out for praise, no, please, deep inside this now, daybreak with the door to the balcony cracked, don’t let me leave this said the imagined me, the imagined me knowing it was an illusion, deny fantasy, even in fantasy unable to properly foster a connection. Domination on the throne.  There can never be virtue in power. What is the nature of this power.  Power from underneath?  Power from underneath.  Power from the devil.  And at that millennium all these words meant different things.  This is not a throne.  We’re right here on the floor.  Together.  But there is nothing good inside of me.  Nothing I can offer.  The clarity of water.  Recording again.  There is mysticism erupting around us.  Transcending.  I am only of flesh.  You are weaving your mystic crown.  From flesh is birthed your crown of domination.  Eminent domain.  There is no transcendence within me, occasional mysticism without.  Morning again.  The magicians.  That’s it, no disguises.  One in front of the other.  Let them be.  The smell of leather.  Tired eyes.  End of the night and tired eyes.  You want a beer?  What a lovely question.  I ruin everything.  Destroyer.  I could take it all back, erase it all, starting with myself. 

Playful now, since I cannot handle anything but.  Or maybe not so playful at all.  Obsession.  crown of temptation, throne of desire, queen of temptation, can’t find anything, no, the instigator is not the proper perspective, this is you sought out, we look for our temptation, only evil underneath.  I live in a black and white world.  Fangs again.  The Cross hurts us because we are evil.  We run from it because it exposes us.  Foul disgusting things. 

Still striving for that levity.  How can there be levity in the midst of all this depravity?  King of nothing, king of emptiness, me.  Master of zero.  Zero.  The concept of zero.  The essence of nothingness exemplified in me, if only.  Present during the night of tears.  In another lovely light, tears turned to diamonds.  Tears and I was present and then I wasn’t.  confessed sadness, eclipsed.  Sadness breathed out into the night.  Awful.  Can’t find a single bit of truth anywhere.  No, it is here, the only truth in evil as I am controlled by…there is only what’s awful.  I should have contemplated suicide. 

 

Now, adoration again.  touching the earth.  If only I could.  Be.  Never before seen in that ultimate vision.  Of longing.  All for the best  but touching the earth.  Something Biblical if I could offer.  So often, the delirious energy expelled.  No, turned into something else.  Out in the universe somewhere.  Waves coming from the inside.  No, still closer to the truth.  Need to replenish.  Bearing witness to the need to replenish.  Ah, and all returning back to…so many years ago, marked by a vowel.  Recording.  Water again.  it will all pass and then be born again.  complete dominance.  Greedy and generous.  This appetite.  So good.  Carnivore.  Everything so primal.  Primordial.  Shuttling through millions of years for arrival.  No, still not quite it.  What’s going on here.  Close again, so very close.  Perfume.  Booze.  Always fleeing though in the reality of things because it and the reciprocation are so grotesque.  So what was I getting at?  On the side.  Something never felt before.  Why would there be anything different now?  You were never wired for this.  This was never meant for you.  The collapse will start inside.  Always a morning.  The pettiness of myself.  Courtesy before evil.  Courtesy before evil.  There is nothing real here.  I am fueled by the act of destruction.  It’s the only that makes sense to me.  Who is the dreamer?  Back to mysticism again.  haunted and foul.  I see the necessity to exterminate all the constructs.  Everything needs to collapse.  Reverting back to the city, blurred lights, the lights from the street, crossing, smiling.  Stolen too.  Can’t believe. 

The appetite.  Always so glorious. Sweet tired us.  Great mistake I never.  Sweet tired eyes. 

shitty throaway post (but some peripheral stuff there, this is like the crusts but i like crusts)

 

Alligators.  Sometimes it takes more than a man to fight the corporate machine.  Alligators have me.  Needs to employ scissors tonight.  Will probably eat cereal tonight.  Might employ scissors while watching a martial arts feature film.  Need to cut into things.  In that way I may find the future.  Parchment.  The font courier.  The concept of zero.  The gas in all the cities.  Now I’m convulsing and dancing around a post apocalyptic temple or sorts.  Covered in embryonic fluid I end up looking much nicer without the facial hair, my phallus bouncing to and fro whilst I engage in a jaunty little dance.  Don’t have the dollars and/or cents for a third mind.  Still, my passion is equal to the task.  And aren’t plastics the way of the future anyway?  Haven’t plastics made everything else obsolete in a sense.  If so, then perhaps plastics is the key to my dollars and cents oriented problem.  Mice.  Of course, I don’t have any sort of crime boss in my corner.  What I meant to say is that despite all the geniuses around me, I’ve no one that can design the program I need for my wants.  And I’ve never been computer savvy.  Classicist perhaps?  No, simply ignorance.  So I will have to employ different methods.  Will wax be present?  God, I’m so sick of myself.  But this feels like it could be a lovely conduit.  The words keep flowing out of me like juicy red hot diarrhea.  Methinks with a glass of wine, I’ll start doing things.  Then I’ll cry.  I have to save time for reading.  Authors that are forming a part of a special group for me include….  I’m going to reread a book soon.  This is very much a throwaway.  I’m calm for the time being.  Spilling that previous 6000 words or so really helped to take the edge off.  But I know it’s only a matter of time.  To say nothing of the increasingly common pain in my gut.  Time to lay off the booze and the coffee.  The zone, that’s the necessary place of travel.  Need to wear a hat.  Need to meet in a dark place somewhere.  Need to exterminate.  Need to listen to jazz.  I was watching a movie I love the other day that I think has a great score and I stupidly forgot that John Williams did the score.  I guess I’m looking for something genuine and since I can’t seem to find that within myself i have to use other methods, other techniques.  Don’t forget about that limo driver who recalled that a passenger/client had once used the word “tactics.”  That one word said it all.  Now this, is very peripheral.  That one bryan adams song that everyone knows.  That really filled the floor.  It was around the time of my departure.  Ghost.  In another realm I stayed and eventually starting cutting a rug and had a grand ol time and was eventually accompanied by….   I’m not a junky in the classic sense and that is a shame.  I’m not really much of anything, even a martian prince.  Good grief this is crap, just the remaining bottom of the barrel stuff.  Tomorrow arriving The Right. 

I did end up watching a martial arts movie last night and I enjoyed it.  I was playing with scissors and drinking while watching it.  Wanted to go to red room but did not.  Creating awkward relationships is the key.  Constantly starting over cause I can’t do anything right.  I guess I’m looking for that one bit of truth.  Back in this useless place now.  Hate when they say my name.  I realized at one point that I was confusing evening with evil.  Cutting paper was nice.  I employed a cowboy hat.  The tome is far too costly.  I don’t get anything out of anything because I am empty inside.  On a similar note, I want to obtain some other editions of several books I already have.  I hate the cover art and design of so many modern books.  Or do I?  the more I learn the less I want to know.  I need to reread that water book by Clarice (turning into one of my favorite authors but so challenging for a doofus like me, dumbfuck that I am).  i like the smell of old paper.  

And now this Italian controversy.  People are so damn greedy.  Why do people care so much about money?  Why are we all so fucking useless?  Now I remember being chastised for wanting a chocolate donut.  Can you remember that?  Can you fucking believe it?! ALL THAT OVER A MOTHERFUCKING CHOCOLATE DONUT!!! IS THAT ANYWAY TO TREAT YOUR SON, YOU MISERABLE FUCK!!!  You are going to be so sorry one day for the way you treated us.  Pretend that last sentence is in a different color. Depending on the age, the words of a parent(s) can very much feel like the words of God. 

I was digressing there for a second.  Why the disparagement?  This request of federal reserve notes hardly costs more than a drink.  The promises look great.  All heading in this direction again.  plastics have us.  The illusory has us.  The need to funnel experience through this.  Oh, the geometry of it all! Eight eight eight now.  Would now be the time to say anything constructive or complimentary?  Suppose it doesn’t matter.  Probably shouldn’t even venture.  But perhaps I will venture.  Gotta say goodbye though.  Everything circles back again.  I should have contemplated suicide.  That links in nicely with something else.  Yep, empty again, never saw the jackal who isn’t the jackal again.  no more electrocution I suppose.  I really loved zeroes and ones.  Five! Not even the fucking shooters know who did it! Just getting to know the Goddess of Death.  I suspect I will have cereal for dinner.  I remember falling down the hill after that drink.  All so meaningless.  Never knew about the loss.  Mis.  Where has everyone gone? 

Tonight I should like to drink whale milk with strawberries.  There’s nothing quite as good as strawberry (except maybe cake).  kirby.  love.