rice seer these heat rats mats cheer tart root nice tame tarn crease

Rice is our only resource. The Seer says it's all we need, and it will save us all. These heat rats breed mercilessly, and have begun to spill out from the mats they hide under during the day. We try to cheer each other up with silly performances of the prophecy of the eradication of the heat rats. One legend tells of a tart root growing under the mountain that can lure and poison the vicious rat horde, but since it contradicts the Seer's prophecy, to speak of it is formally forbidden and publicly feared. My oldest brother shares a legend with me that our grandfather shared with him many years ago. Once upon a time, these heat rats were nice and tame. We got along harmoniously with them. We gave them shelter and they gave us warmth. As our numbers grew, we produced more rice and took up more space. We pushed them out, and instead of sharing our rice with them, we burned it to replace the heat they had given us. The more we despised the rats, the more they crowded around us and multiplied, stealing our rice and overheating our homes. Only if we accept and respect them again will our lives become peaceful. The tension seems unbreakable. I can't imagine anyone in this land reconsidering our relationship with the heat rats. I feel more at peace with them than with my own people. I help them whenever I see them trying to get inside. I hide away from people. Our rice supplies are getting desperately low. To everyone's surprise, the Seer decrees that the tart root of the mountain must be found. The strongest farmers and staunchest enemies of the heat rats set out for the unexplored tarn at the center of the mountain. After many days of finding nothing, a hungry man, who lost his home and whole family to the heat rat invasion, dives to the bottom of the tarn and finds a shiny root stuck in a dark rocky crease. He knows that's what they've been looking for and pulls and pulls harder until he is out of breath. The root comes loose and floats to the top, and he drowns (he will not be missed). The entire land celebrates the tart root. Soon after placing it at the edge of town, we notice fewer heat rats, lower temperatures, less rice missing. Everyone calms down. The rats are all gone, and people seem happy. The tart root seems to slow time. The new rice crop seems to be growing slowly. In fact it isn't growing at all. The harvest yields less then ever before. People are even hungrier than at the height of the heat rat invasion. Winter is bitterly brutal. No rice to burn. No rats to keep us warm. The root is shining brightly, simply laying on an altar. It seems to need nothing to thrive. Nothing is what it gave us. We hate the tart root. Only last hope is to burn it. Everyone gathers at the altar. The Seer sets it alight. It is brighter than the sun, louder than a hurricane, and smells worse than anything. Those of us who were most excited originally by the tart root's power faint from the sensory overload. The rest us rat-lovers wait as the light, noise, and smell fade. All that's left is a black seedy ooze burning its way deep into the dirt. Through the new darkness, on a distant mountain, we see a soft orange glow flicker with life. In an instant, I know that it's the heat rats. We gather the fainted ones and journey onward to reunite with our old warm friends.

Done Day

I will turn you off.
If I go tomorrow, I dare you to go with me.
If you write a song, I won't hear it unless you sing it too.

Bayou

Place. People. Light. Objects. Intentions. I say to another male, "Did you hear about the massacre in Syria." He mumbles, doesn't answer, and seems a little annoyed, and I am annoyed that he would think Oh yeah, more religious wackos killing each other, instead of thinking that it's horrible. Who is this guy? I wanted to say "Christian massacre" (that is Massacre of Christians)  to be correct, but I didn't want to seem biased. The religion doesn't matter when concluding that killing is wrong. I don't know if they were killed for being Christian. I guess if they were the same religion as the killers it would have been different. Everything wrong. There is a woman who reminds me of Milana Vayntrub, other people, I think blonde, and pumpkin puree. She wants to date? I don't know. Gotta poop, last post went roughly, and it's on maybe something. No one cares, that's amazing. I can't describe and I don't remember. It didn't really happen. Next year in Jerusalem... bye you

an ocean aboard a microbe planetbj

ffrewreot

Ello, mi chiggen. Everything is spanish for something else. I am spanish for the holidase. Quite a restitution, respiration, rest on the Pootin, eated fulluv canteen poutine, poultice made of hedgehog fat and baked backside. Millet making bacon for breakfast, cuz I slept even until late today then yesterday goodbye

December Fourth

1. Shopping for Scissors

2. Punctual Tropical

3. A Butterfly Flies Faster Than I Drive

4.

Life Evaluation

It's been too long since I considered what I have done and what I am doing. I was driving to work and thought about the last time I had been in the moment. I thought it's been 12 years, when I was in 4th grade. Then I thought maybe a few times in high school. I was almost done with high school 6 years ago. That's a long time. I need to slow down time. I have made a lot of mistakes. I have watched porn and masturbated each of the past three days. I worked at 5 today/yesterday. I saw a kid at 1st and William Cannon. He crossed the street. I worried about a car hitting him. I wanted him to stay on the sidewalk. I wondered why I felt that. He has value. He can do good things. He will be needed. I also think I just care about keeping him alive. He just needs to be alive. It's almost all gone if he dies. His atoms will be recycled just like while he's alive. If one kid dies, it's very sad. If a few die, it's crazy and horrible. If a bunch die, then it's hard to believe and almost relieving in way, like a burden lifted, like they keep each other company, like the beginning of a charitable foundation. How am I going to be better? Life is rushing past.

I watched Corrado play The Stanley Parable. How can I be all these things and not other things? Pat and I played disc golf at Circle C yesterday. Tim went to Huntsville Friday and he's coming back tomorrow/today. I think I want to call Kit and ask if he wants to bike. This laptop is so small. Music is so big. I was little toooo. 4 changes. OK, this is going. Pat and I ate steaks and watched The Ice Storm. I forgot about the last big steak. It's gross now. I ate two weird s'mores tonight. I watched Frasier and Kids in the Hall. I have some gross infection on the left corner of my mouth. I popped a pimple and picked it, kept picking it. I'm growing a beard. It's been a while since I saw Aaron. I gotta brush my teeth. I am very lazy, watching youtube for hours. I want to do some ASMR. I looked at middle school girl's chest. I worked with Eric tonight. It was mellow, simple. I liked thinking about how little work I was doing. I am excited to see Tim. I don't want to work for 8 hours. I already look forward to my lunch break. I regret always eating peanut butter sandwiches. Sometimes they taste very good. I ate a salad with coconut oil. The Food Blog is dead. Nothing is maybe something anymore. I ate turkey ham mozzarella sandwiches. Trampled while shopping is a sucky death.

It is a Diamond Day. It is a Prism of Reflection. I am compressed and captured, encapsulated indefinitely.

Pat is somewhere. Bridgett's I guess. I wanted to look at Jane Ritter, or whats-her-name. I am going 2 sleep.

No Julie Text

I burned down your house. I didn't want to see you speaking about sleeping without throat blood and nude love. Just don't want you to cry. Nice nights wearing liquid air, draped on cold steam, fluorescent shadow children run outside.

Bright Flashes at Once

Im happy when i kill. im sad when i die.
Happy when I kill, sad when I die.
Happy kill, sad die.

Youtube is the last place on Earth. Except for Earth itself of course. Earth is on course to be any other planet. We bring every other planet to Earth. Earth can go anywhere. Everywhere is on Earth. Zen The End

faceheart

I'm simply not helping. I'm simply hurting. My face heart hunts you.

It is 1:05 pm. First Day Off

I'm thinking about next month and the money I will have and the money I will pay. This month is better than 0over in my thoughts. It is Gunpowder day. V day. Cold warm day. Past sister birthday. A spot in the middle of my back to the left keeps going numb. It must related to posture. Pat had been telling my to stand up straight. The best was when he said I am going to need hunchback medicine. I have noticed hunched people at work. Two young male coworkers and some elderly shoppers. I am wearing the small tiger hoodie. I wonder if it is 80 or more outside. We need to go out today. I judge so much of myself and base so many of my decisions on what I think Aaron would say. He represents so much of what I know about spirituality, duty, and culture/transcendence. It is Tuesday. I suppose Tim will come home in about 7 hours and we will buy pizza rolls and eat them and watch TV. I hope Patrick and I go out to play today. I don't like my job, but I think I can do it. I cannot wrap my mind around all of the different items in our department and where they go. I cannot think ahead  or remember well enough to stack boxes efficiently and neatly. These words are bothersome. I need to go somewhere new. At least in my thoughts. I need to read Gravity's Rainbow. Or more How Best to Avoid Dying. We played Elder Sign about midnight and made some bad choices and lost. I ate more Krazy Kookie ice cream. I will want to eat more tonight, but I should stop myself. Who would I have sex with? No one. Until I know myself very well and then know that person (female) very well then we want to have a child, or feel like we need to, like it's the right thing to do. I cannot expect to be perfect. But I can always try to think of the best thing to do in every situation. Well maybe not, but that is out of my control. I may make a bad decision that leads me to not being able to assess my situation. Like if I let myself get kidnapped and drugged, something causes me to lose my mind.

Listening to Lowers Dens Twin-Hand Movement. Beautiful! Not the best. I have to stop just being myself, letting things make me, letting my life take control, and I have to take control of my life and make myself who I need to be. It's all about thinking ahead. Of course right now I just want to masturbate and eat ice cream but I want to be better in the future and those things are not helpful, so I won't do them. I need to do things now to help myself be who I want to be in the future. I do know that the future is real and it matters. Commas are tiresome. I am not alone. I am extremely noble and sarcastic. I am listening quietly and hoping to go home inside of myself and wait for more futures to rise and burn and fly joyfully. I have to know what is. I have to watch all the Khan Academy videos. I have to test myself. I have to think about actions I can take that will change the lame stuff of life into awesome sauce. John Green said purpose of life is Helping. Don't forget to be awesome. Thank you. dear, docter, save her from being eaten, i want to help

To Appreciate Crafters

Imagine reality. Imagine emptiness. Imagine an empty reality. No one makes anything. No one does anything, like we. We interact with existing parts. Sitting, reading, listening to Boards of Canada. Nothing new comes out of a static mind. Having an impact. I know what would be better. How do I do that. I'll start here. I'll get some help. I'll make a plan. I'll adapt the plan. I'll collaborate and make a difference. I'll make life worth living. I'll make meaning show itself in unexpected places. I'll make us all glad we're lucky enough to live and be ourselves. Have you seen/heard/felt/tasted/smelled this? It's so GOOD! I can't believe it, but I make myself believe.

Stuff Like This

Conflict of feeling a tickle in my penis and wanting to be perfect. I have a job. It is too far away in this traffic town. I will pay for my own rent. I may need more money for car repairs. I want to cut off my penis. Or just erase it or something. I want to swallow all the pretty girls in the world. I was pooping a little bit ago and my tummy was very strained with worrisome pain. I thought of how painful starving must be. I wonder if people in pain for a long time get used to it. In that New Yorker article, that Frenchman said, pain is always new to the sufferer. I am listening to Lou Reed's Transformer, because he is dead now. His voice is nice. If we have choices during life, do we have choices during death? Does it make sense that our afterlives are determined by our life choices? We are dead for much longer than we are alive. Do our options expand after death? Life choices seem quite limited. If we are not bound by life, if our souls are eternal, we should have many more options after death. Maybe I am thinking wishfully. I am afraid that my bad choices during life will define me eternally. I want things to get easier and better after death. I want my life choices not to matter. Then I cannot make bad choices and have nothing to fear, so this life will be easier. Easy is bad, maybe. Good is difficult. Good is the goal. Not really a goal, not an end. A constant process. Coffee burn. Taste smell blinding pain, Posture, Perfect Posture. I learn from Aaron and from everything. How to grasp God. How to see the good as worth all the bad and all the difficult. How to see the easy as not worth all the bad that comes later. How to realize that at this moment it is necessary to work toward better existing for eternity. Eternity is not a moment, not singular, but an endless flow of opportunities for perfection. As I stand here and now I can only prepare for eternity. I can only exist on the surface of eternity. Every moment is flowing into eternity. Every moment is saved in eternity. I am creating eternity, or I am adding to it. Nothing can be reversed, undone. I am responsible for the perfection of my contribution. I am always contributing no matter what. I have to be known, and I have to know. Perfect means done through, as in complete. If I waste time or do the wrong thing, then I am contributing emptiness. If I allow this to happen, if everyone does, then eternity will become hollow and all is for nothing. The purpose of being is to be perfect, to make eternity complete. I do not mean to say that without humans all is empty and has no purpose. But it is purely hypothetical, because humans or other sentient beings are inevitable. If humans die out, then we will have made part of eternity empty. Eternity can never be completely empty. Good is always possible. I guess I must agree that a universe that does not know itself is a lesser universe. Because beings able to know the universe will always come around, and if they ignore their wonder or kill themselves, then eternity is not getting closer to perfect, which is all it wants to do. It will never be perfect, but always getting better is better than being perfect. Eternity wants to be perfect because getting worse will only lead to nothingness, which is the worst. I cannot claim to know the perspective of eternity.

So Tim, Chelsea, and I might play Elder Sign tonight. I wonder if they"ll get food for me. I have to be the opposite of pain. I have to be a healer. There are many ways to heal. Heal physical pain, medically or through prevention, preventing hunger and food related disease. Heal mental pain, helping people to know what is it right and good. Help people to know themselves and the universe.

Stuff like this. Good-bye, my love.

AlaBlamo! Guerrillazz

NO idea

Kit, Pat, Tim, God

Christopher, Patrick, and Timothy are my brothers. Earth is my brother. Pluto is my cousin.

Where's Tim? When's Tim? What's Tim? Why's Tim? Tim tim chshhhhhhh, tim tim chsh-tim.

High-temperature jalepenos. Fire is never spicy.

14 gold outside. Streaming, revealing light from two directions.

bars
bane

Sun

They're incompetence somewhat relieves my penile servitude.

Everything is a choice. I choose Everything. Thend.

Baby Manish, Mr. Appropriate Child.

A squeamish Danish. A crunchy pork liver. Fired lied about dire died fled on Friday.

Dirk Smiley. Purest licorice scent.

Desperately playable non-committal parable sci-fi lukewarm belly flop assiduous deciduous prenatal prehensile doctorate porcupine qweeping slew parrot fellow barometric dime slice single file qwillow best friend.

Using My Brain

I am going to use this blog for Journals and Creative writing. The other one, maybe something, is just to track my diet.

I wanted to title this Using My Brain, because I want to use my brain, and the words showed up in my thoughts and I imagined typing them. I wanted to listen to Chain of Missing Links and I did, and I heard the line, The average person only uses about 5 percent of their brain. That's mean. The rest is available for food.

Crown on the Ground. It hurts. So loud and busy. Pat is at class. Tim may have gone to work. He spent last night with Chelsea at her sister's house.

I saw Aaron yesterday. So difficult to talk. I didn't try very much. I didn't try to think much. I tried not to cry a couple of times. I succeeded.

Supposedly this job at Sprouts will be good. I went there today to finalize things. I was so anxious before. I was afraid I might not go. My neck and shoulders suck so much at being in a relaxed position. Domino's right ear is weird. I feel bad for him. He seems pretty messed up. Aaron's cats died. It's pretty sad.

How to Winter. Success. Feeling Good. Less than ten episodes of The Chris Gethard Show left to watch. My hair is too long. I need my dreams. I need to type them out. Write Down; Type Out; Speak Up; Think About. Hm, that was pretty lame. I want to be a better person.

Why are things so sad after getting a job? The apartment is very weird lately. Pat is with Bridgett most of the time. Chelsea came over Friday night. After I left for Sprouts today, I thought about Tim dealing with Chelsea's son or just dealing with the emotional weight of that relationship, and I felt better about only having this job to think about. Coffee is messing up my teeth, or the sugar is. Dodger and Apprentice Eh.

I don't know where I'm going. So many troubling thoughts. So much fragility in our identities and our plans. If I see people as historical, futuristic, emotional, spiritual, and social as well as physical beings, then I have hope and respect for them, and I trust them.

It's so hard. I have to get better. I have to let myself get better. I have to open myself up. Cold War Kids, Hospital B

eds... Beauty, Truth, Peace and Love. Original. People. I am mindful. I am sexual. I am tasteful. I am approved. I am welcomed. I am acceptable. I am loved. I am happy. I am useful. I am affirmative. I am location. I am loquacious. I am Ambassador. I am Senile. I am Aquatic. I am weird. I am sociable. I am socialable. I am 967563029. Haha. I am the truth. I am Da Truf! I am the same. I am secondary. I am Adobe After Effects. I am Microsoft Paint. I am Blogger.com. I am a United States Senator. I am a Congresswoman. I am Juice Fast. I am a Winnebago. I am a Man. I am a salsa lobster. I am a Scenic Bueno Vista. I am talking head. I am a Smorgasbord. I am a Scientific Community of Intellectual Observers. Good Bye, Joe Namath. Bye bye, Mometh.

- Señor Pasta

So Okay

If you were a toilet, then I would definitely be you.
If I were the sky, then I would definitely rain on you.

A 90% chance of falling in love today.
A 25% chance of sucking at life all day!

Pieces of comets fill up my pockets.
Noodles for neckties. Poodles for porkpies.

A quick victory for a surprise supreme leader.
A solid instrument for installing brain enhancements.

Be gone. Bye bye. Buh Buhyeh. S'over.
I am perfect how I am. How am I? So okay.

Nearly Perfect

dandeaconmericadandeaconmericadaannddeeaacccoonnnnmmmerrriiicdcaaaa.

No nuclear bombs tonight. I don't know even where to find those. It's only 12 p.m. I am set up and ready to go, fall down, lay out, sprout up. Ear buds in my ears, life music in my brain. Growing inside me. Brown baby. Filled up with shit, blowed out my ass. Dying just in time for the moment I die, when I do, it'll be ready, at just that right exact time, the end, goodbye. And just right inside me in my mind I know what life will be after it's all over inside forever and never growing up and never going out and always being good and always having fun, and we high-five so loud something breaks and collapses, no conventional actual thing that could be called a thing, it is nothing, but so just described by words so that they know what I mean.

Washing, clean soap, natural, no additives or preservatives. Plastic bottle that will never be in a landfill. I can make a dust pan or a soil scooper, or just eat it and take years off of my life. It is eager to end, because I contain some much sought after chemicals. Rare and desirable. That is my life in a gun-shell.

Surprising to realize how much I don't know. Surprised that I can know how much I know and do not know. I am clear and phallic and surprisingly municipal. But of course we need metaphors, but are they even metaphors? Is there any better way that our current language can explain these tender subjects? We often need to invent new language to explain these ideas and images that seek us out then encode themselves in us and wait for us to seek them out and release them, bring them into existence. God does not exist. No doubt there is a God, but exist is not what God does. We exist for God. Whyever you may think you exist is one of the infinite reasons why God exists. Aaron did this to me. Or maybe not. We are just similar fields of energy in the constant fabric of reality.

Say what it is. Near perfection out in the field by the barn by the woods. Exactly in the field on the grass in the wet weather of the growing life in the simple order.

Nearly perfect.

All that you can ask.

good thoughts before sleep, non sexual dreams

I'm in a neighborhood with young kids riding bikes. there's a big house on a steep hill. the kids are mature. it's night. they's in a band. They have to go. I dunno. Billy Brag, night shows. Alphalpha dreams, hair sprouts. Mother 3 before bed. Asking me. I wish. Go outside, I don't want to change the world, but I shall, in the future, still to come, as has been planned, outside outer country rolling west falling north open breeze freezing sold blown spectral shimmering sky beacon light tiptoe lilac green grass breast chest press earth beat dirt sound pound rhythm birth echo beast malfegor presto beggin superlative lactate supreme nacho assinine break down adenine so far leadership cringing cripple nipple slip sinking ship, bakin brothers soda fat bread. Create great ape juice, sojourn soft ideal flat bed.

dreaq dream deam dream draem dream... dream

Books backs walls shelves no-one doom dank room brown wood tables winddows halls not the lozenges. [double d windows] you sick F. Games, franes. Planes. Boat mo cars. Shaq lighning bugs, cybil syllabull, buss, blunder blubber, ArTic of Course, Baby, Wine Nose. Not safe, practically. uNderstood. Boasted.
Hard to believe how many people are better than me. I happen to have a good night and a good morning. I have to make a habit of these and other things. Diana Rachel.

Things for Us

A position in the mountains leads to filled guts and hanging arm flaps. Childish grins stained with Coors and Miller Lite cans fill the pool halls. Neon beer signs, wood paneling, spit-speckled mirrors, clear, brisk nights, dusty, rough hands, snot rockets, piles of pennies on dashboards, oil stained asphalt parking lot, mud-encrusted brown steel-toed boots, and greasy, grey, thinning hair have nothing to do with the game I play in my thoughts. The final product is sticky, stinky old clothes strewn across a bedroom floor. I've got a single personality. Solitude is solipsism during my dark days, and I reach out through well-sheathed wires. I electrocute myself to find a way out of a bloody, pink hospital of chemicals and organs. Shock therapy is an alien spaceship falling far to crush my cellular shell. We play Mario Party 8 when we eat cheese, lights go out and white wine and no chores, no money to make, double sexy frog poster cafeteria popular rock star roast chicken sickle.

Lost it. No one name the second leader to come out of the tour between Harlem and Nostradamus.

Push the crate against the square hole in the wall, nothing has depth. No fits. M hand goes in a shoe. M glove goes on a tiny cactus. Green windowsill. Mister Industrial Benefactor Investor man interest bank account seven figures outset site prolonged nature factual adjustment realty produce factors indecision quality engineering virgin property potential oversight profit legal timeline value shift. Get that damn bulldozer running, clear cut, blast mine, crane rotate, work force, stacks on stocks, smoke on walls, on floors, on ceilings. Factory input expedite. Salary celery cheddar. Bread and loaves and love and careers and demolition. Fixing, broken, systems, parallel, Oktober, okay, waited too long. Surprise special neo-logic. Necessary economic retail, prices, places, distribution, waste, police, please, release, Octagon, plastic, foresight, neo-knowledge. Facilities, corrections, after effects, practicing for a future, inevitable, foreign ghosts, picturesque, life cycles, turn around, life in the cloud, situation, revealed, prosperity, nest egg, ill-advised, comatose, engrossed, feint, faint, fall, tumble, sink, flow, resurrect, beg, shoulder, allow, invisible lines, border, constructive, progressive. Some for some, more than anyone can respect.

Starts Bright, Stays Bright Battery Powered Fermata Light

kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill, a mantra fermata for as long as i feel hate. Blood spray hangs in the air, red glowing fermata of impossible physics. Slow slow slow moving thru space, infinity, my eyes are rodents suffocating from the penetrating endless universal fermata hum. Counting out and up numerous cells, equations for life, pencil scratching a tune, the length of paper, work time is a fun time fermata elongated at the discretion of the hollow teacher swallowing the after-school learner playing catch up.

Press up, press down, depress, pressure, along with, alone with, decidedly difficult, inanimately precious, thoughtful dangerous likable serious dead fiery. Intentionally friendly, breaking back study futile lifeless semicolon... Grace fluid sustainable incantation, brace finality, imperfect suppository, trust flexion, buoyant schism. Repetitive singularity. Angry peacekeeper. Subtle tiredness. Cranky postman. Cute sandwich cutter. Practice the kindness belief in human nature after one wakes up early sunny breakfast afraid of living for tomorrow, something happens that cannot be explained with our current vocabulary, I flew to New Guinea to learn the word for growth. I became a single atom, and I saw the entire universe and understood the difference between more and better and the difference between older and wiser.

Colony- trenching, trudging, mucking, manifest. Apostle- creating, appeasing, opposing, flesh. Purpose- blessing, conditioning, interesting, yes.

Pockets full of sticky pebbles. Nodes of damp clay dirt from Zilker playground. I wish I was a star. O no, I am. Goodnight, sun. I'll be you when we are one. I'll sacrifice my hopes, my taste, my feast, my crops, my language, my Christmas, my science, my breath, my Loony Toons, my carpets, my milk and cookies, my marriage, my happiness, my kids, my humanity, my ego, my trust, my clothes, my skies, my ground, my feet- for the realization of perfect order. Experience fantastic, lightlessness weightlessness, purity, innocence, unforeseeable, everlasting human transcendence.

Some thoughts to begin the middle of the day, in the middle of life. Back to reality, scum buckets. Scrape the barnacles off my soap boat on the ocean of worry and sick feelings, cathartic barf, bowel cleanse, gut reaction, responsible ache, satisfaction grumbles.

Free wreite

Popsicle. Music brain. Up on the radio. Open your gross place. uhhhhg, strait from the bubble of the yoyr mom, from huckle berry in the gay time with shuckles of guppies. This person is doing a hum. Little friend with your taste fart. Impatient. Kibbles. Lightning, homely forest your real dad forgot your toast bacon meddling human. No stopping hump the diet jump the ream of people unbutton the tata, greasy umbilical. Not the word sound like but the brain says to do it. I have lava in my butt. I love people with your name and face. Uptown i feel like a really happy grumpy pumpkin in the residue of meatloaf and forest tacos, laymen's give me your tits. Over the hills, I never seen that baby. I love killing apartments. I have moving drums, lung vision. Breathing comes quickly then quits. Blow up eye balls. Oh jelly nuggets. Fire on a train. Sheldone pooper/ kiss me you lovable crimp pansy, stains on the sheets, light lunch buddies, crease potatoes, license to stupid crap, stew in the breeze overpaid nice freak, soaker pose home sheman. Cries about a silver swerver nacho liver cremey sifilis. Grim SO, demon wheel book glover cleave land bummer secks darma

Pussy Whipped

(nastily) I got your pussy whipped.

(choir voice) I loved you, and your pussy wept.

(straightforwardly) I gotta tell you, I got your pussy wet!

Hi Mom

I'm a little too apologetic. My excuse for being who I am is that I cannot be anything else, and everything will be okay anyway.

My mom has the strength to birth me and the strength to bury me. She will die. She will die soon. I will die soon. I will say hi to her the day after I die from the sky. The sky will kill me, and I will live in the sky until the sky dies. The stars will bury the sky in space. Space will bury the stars in time. Time will bury itself in eternity.

I may enjoy creating a human with a female human. A child will see green leaves with green eyes. A black nurse will bury a blue baby between its dead parents beside a white hospital. I apologize in advance, because I do not want to do what anyone else wants me to do. I want to plant a tree in my belly button. A man in Russia had a tree in his lung, did he? I know I am helpless, because I want to save everyone from dying early but am quickly killing myself by living this way. Candy Corn Oreos are yummy. They are almost Birthday Cake. I used Mom's American Express credit card to buy Tim a Big Bang Theory T-shirt for his birthday. In one week, I am meeting a librarian at a library to be allowed to volunteer to shelve books. I hope my time fills up with good deeds and happy people. 

I've listened to three M83 songs just now, and now I'm listening to Dancing Mountains. The last thing I listened to was Neil Degrasse Tyson say the atoms in our bodies came from stars. He feels big. We are in the universe. The universe is in us.

I feel like a lame, crusty goat. Sleepy. Sweaty. Alone. Lost. Slow. Twitchy. Thirsty. 

I'm stepping along a misty mountainside, looking far away. It's quiet. It's the middle of the day. Nothing else is moving. I feel like laying down but also that there is something important to do but I can't think of what it is. I feel taller than anything. I think that if I zoomed out all I could see is myself. 

Oblivion soundtrack. I haven't seen it. All I need to do is correct every mistake I come across.

Proof! Boom! Phizzzz....

I was free on top of the pile

You will see, and your eyes will smile

You're not me; won't you stay awhile

It's so hot outside ! I was in a cool crazy maze in a dream on the west side and I died.

Math Story

7 exists. Or not. Minus 17. It must be beyond time and space. It is I-T. I-S-I-T. T-I-S-I. A letter which represents nothing is -. Without order, boundary, motion, or matter. Words are words. Nice fair par fore unspecific meaningless sample example poll survey opinion idea compose revise continue end tragedy comedy sacrifice indulgence favor flavor. Oops. Mistake. Take. Give. Action. Verb. Noun. Subject. Object. Dynamic. Static. Reject. Accept. None. Twonce. Eleventy. Range. Notion. Possibility. Concept.

Another 7 of exact replication. Same 7. New. Not other. Similar thought. Though not not. Indeed Yes. Of which not without of course of all 9, 12, 11, 7. And is. With no with it, all and not in, of and without. Is and no. Some of them of one is one - one is - one of none is none. Know, name, does, correct, simple, effort, save, Ung, Lif, Sui, Pon, Jui, Ter, LO, CU, B6, 5K. Which is it. Offer. Identify. Define. Serve. Procter.

Only as a collection believing appropriate specialties is greeting Calvin Kelvin scales purporting.
Necessary topical trope designates a situation belonging about appraisal performance.
Fixation totally retracts ambiguous article supposing perfection.

9 needless. 7 subtraction. No ideal integer.
Contemplate arbitrary selection of multiple additions to negative absolute processes. Impart an imaginary rational denominator insinuating exclusive particulars.

Absent image. 7 practices.
Redistribution. 11 lesser.
1 every single. Among 2 associative properties. 10 is.

My Dream

All told, I cannot say. Mostly, imposing images, dim and blurry. Too heavy and too short. Unable to carry, unable to move. I cannot say. Maybe it was you.

Dream

a dark room with a big bed. Chris Gethard, Murph(maybe) and Don Fenelli were having sex with each other with most of their clothes on. I saw from a cameras perspective. There was someone behind the camera. Something was wrong with the lighting maybe, and Chris got up with his penis hanging out and went towards the camera down two carpeted steps to help fix it while putting his penis away.

Someone and I were climbing a balcony of a hotel or something. Elizabeth Banks was inside the hotel room. We hid from her and tried to get in. Her husband or boyfriend was there too. The End.

This is the truth. Page 1. Shut up. Dance your pants off. Every girl who walks outside immediately commits a sunny suicide. They are suicide girls.

Czech these dreams out!

Tim took Pat and I to work at the IRS. It was more like a factory. We were counting some weird stuff.

I lived with a family in a good sized country house. They seemed like a friend's family, such as Max's. I was not completely accepted there. There were some weird appliances. I may have woken up the father of the family, and he came into the living room and began to vacuum the thick blue carpet grumpily.

Dreams

January Day Christmas 2009

There's a still room for you.

Come in.

Patrick and I play mini golf at an empty fancy country club. Everything is plain and green. Pete Hornberger tries to tell my brothers and I something about Mom in a roundabout way. I realize he is saying that she died because she was really sick. I tear up, I think I can see myself, my face distorts. I can't handle this news. It surprises me. We're in a different small city. Sort of familiar. Oldish white stone buildings on Main St.
Mom drives me and Tim down a highway out of town. There are trees on either side. She tells about someone she works with, who commutes over 150 miles to work every day. Mom and I get into a huddle and start to calculate how much she pays in gas, if she get's 20 miles a gallon, then we try to remember what she drives.
Good Friday
I am on a large wooden deck in the backyard of a rich family. A toddler boy walks up the stairs to me holding what I think is a toy grenade. Over near the playground his father casually explains that it's a live grenade, and I panic and grab it, but I think I drop it, then the father tosses it onto a pointed metal pole. The grenade is pierced and slides down, stops at the bottom, then releases air from the hole and flies up off the top. This is not explained, but I guess it wasn't real. There are two girls playing on the playground, swinging maybe. The father does something with the wooden swing set and water falls out of it like rain. The are two smaller swings with feminine products or something on the seat that their mother put there for the girls. I want to swing but not touch the stuff.
Ash Wednesday

Dream

A cafeteria in the dark I am sitting with Aaron maybe, talking about kids to feed, one is very young, we need to find him and feed him. I don't know whose he is. The other is Max Damon's 15 year old son. I say that he is old enough to feed himself. Some sort of river resort deck right on the river, daytime, I use a pole fishing rod and see a pale fish thru clear water. I hook it in a second. I lift it out of the water and smack it against a tree and the deck to kill it. It is more brutal and takes longer than I would expect.

So

Freee Wrrritteeee, Yaaaa! [ one the most crazy ones I have done ]

I can type whoever or whatamever I am what or>!?!>!>!<><!>.. I am going to KIILL Aron! He is lifting his eyebrows now in the bathroom at the mirror with facecream!!!!! He is clearing his throat because he has control over his actions and thoughts and he carefully decides what is good and write in the foolish slucking funny foolish funny fucking slurry flunnpy werild.

He asks me qwestions and I defy his brain parts!!! I am a devilish meandering moman asking the woirld to peel back to the eyelids of the stupid ugly parts of the unfriendly brain inside your human humpty fat sucking frome his head hees home homage fromage freekins green cheese brain rot fart death pigs and arf arf.

ART. Fukkkkkinnnnnnnnnggg, Three silent G's. G'E'S'... The werild is slow to yodel to learn the ways of the old ways in the time we live in today then yesterday.


We all have problems. You know you can't be afraid. You know it has to be good to be difficult to complete or you never get started and you know it's worthless you stupid face you know it has to be horrible and ugly to get the day done it has to be better than you you dumb fat human hog fat lady singing ugly four quintets over the human plains on the raange raising cattle and farms and dumb farmers with chicken fat penises and shredded milk and boiling cow intestines.


My left ear hurts. I think. I am. I like to play games. I like OFF and Mother 3 most of all right now. I think they teach me more creative wonderful things about life and myself and humanity and what we all are doing here and why and why it is imperative to do this and this in these ways so that we are better than the worst possible versions of anything ever existing you know here why then how it is now nkow and k know... You know, hear?

I read aaron's letter from last year. I think he has an aquarium in his skull. There are fish in there that kill his useless thots with laser bolts like slaughterhouse of vanity and killing humans with mind raping organ guns that spit god's luminous semen in the eyes of us dark plain sad hunks of machine labor test models.


Now I understand myself. Now i understand I stand under the reason that I am here because someone put me here and my destiny is to quell the superficial hunger that eats people in their good happiness. I would be happy but there is no time.

I ate orphans for christmas I aborted the guts of thousands of women in Nairobi in a dumpster with a pen and a bottle of tomato sauce...

Thay all thenk me and I cheerfully waltz away into the hotel hottub grinning with their leather wallets in my pearly perfect chompers biting hard and winning because I am my own man mortal and satisfying because I peer hard into my soul's soul and I find the nuggets of truth that separate us from the dregs of the universe like meerkats and urchins and fetuses and lions and eagles and nosferatu and sponges and stars and electric eels and crocodiles and chimpanzees and B152757100943, specimens and crawfish.

I am sleepy. I kill my human love. I love free kids. I love to hope that I am human to face the consequences and grip myself by the testicles and squeeze like there is no future kuz jesuz is coming back again n he is gonna tell us all what the dealio ... run.

Dreams

So many shirts. All different designs, mostly black and white. Is this a game? How do we decide who gets what? Whose shirts are these? Why are we taking them? Why are they so big and all long sleeved? They look cool but I don't need them and I don't know if I'd wear them. Do we place bids? How can I help her get the shirt she wants?
I drive thru a mountain town. Streets so small. I have to turn around. I pull off the rocky road and go up a steep slope to a grassy ledge. I wait for cars to pass. I turn sharply and almost fall off this ledge. Then I have to go uphill on this rough road. My car sounds bad. It takes all its power to start moving slowly. Runners come toward me in slow motion. I hear a deep male voice over about the women's bodies. Some of their clothes disappear like he is in control giving a presentation. I see their breasts bounce in slow motion. A woman in the front is very fit and attractive. There are some old fat women growths hanging off them. I think I'm in southern Europe.
This is a strange movie, like a game. Three famous middle-age male actors play the three smartest cities in the world, Alexandria, some other sandy place, and maybe D.C. for some reason. They emerge from the earth shaking off dirt with buildings around their heads. They fight or something on a sort of stage of the world where one foot is about 100 miles... It looks bad.

Dream

I am go into a tiny basement apartment where two women live. The tall one runs a shop out of it. The name of the shop is painted bright and large across the wall next to the front door. One women is pretty and small with kind of short black hair. The other is tall and big and homely with long brown hair. There is a bunch of stuff in their tiny apartment. Arts and crafts stuff on the floor. We are hanging out. I feel out of place. It seems the short haired girl wants me there more than the other. She wonders if I can fit into any of her clothes, so she gives me some track pants to try on. I worry that I will break them. She unzips the waist. I say I would have forgotten to do that. I hesitate about putting them on  because I have a boner. I go into the bathroom and take off my white tank top for some reason. I put on the small pants and they fit pretty well and I am able to hide my erection. I try to put my tank back on, but I twist it around my arm. It is fun for us when I walk out. One of my pant legs was zipped off, and she zips off the other pant leg. It barely went past my knee, now my upper thighs are exposed and I show off my legs, which have less hair than normal. She seems to enjoy it, but the other woman stands up and goes across the room. The apartment is bigger and maybe not a basement. The tall one stands over a pool table holding the cueball knocking the other balls into the pockets. I compliment her on her skills saying it would have taken me twice the time to hit all those balls in. I feel like I am starting to win her over.

World Four

I'm gonna shower in the semi-darkness, I'm gonna shower in the semi-darkness, I'm gonna shower in the semi-darkness. What's a world for? .... What's a world for...?

Every light has come out, Every light has come out... every light has come out. Dead Wringer - Goast Righter ....

Four Spaces, Aphrodite Aloysius.

Sidle

Spontaneous Energy: the Past Becomes the Future

The real word, beside my seen word, hides among the lines of letters.

The Last Number

I have yet to directly perceive anything, therefore my interpretations are even more ambiguous. Even that sentence is confuddled... befuddled, befuddles me, muddy, watery, flavorless, stinky...

I write insanely. I am typing. I write 100 novels of truth every day and at night I sleep and dream of humans without purpose or meaning and I drink till I am drunk and I orgasm till I ejaculate. I am in another world, a world beyond perfection and disappointment. When I wake up, I say damn. Why can't I live my dreams? In my dreams, I am God.

To be absolutely true is my goal, to be completely and outwardly the pure core of myself forever. It's always trying to come out but I find ways to shove it back in. It must be there, otherwise I am nothing and can do nothing, not care, not love, not be. But I believe that I am. I am most of what I believe there is. I try to believe that there is more, because if I am everything, then I may as well be nothing.

I don't think I have to force myself to care. I think I always care, but at times it is difficult to recognize that I care or what I care about.

I am as oblong as a widowed rainbow. Daddy books.

Elaine runs a marathon quietly through a silent city. She moves quickly and gracefully between buildings, on empty streets, through narrow alleys, around mailboxes and trash cans and trees and bushes and parking meters and fire hydrants and rivers and oceans. She runs through the Marianas trench. She breathes the water pressure. The upset volcanoes are silent and timid. The black sky waits motionless. She high fives all her friends halfway to the finish line. I ate with a similar mindless female at Fisherman's Park in February. There were ham and cheese and wheat bread. Ducks surrounded us, and we felt like captured pirates about to bury ourselves at sea, and we still wanted so much out of life, but death is a sinister minister and beckons with an icy ladle for us to eat the cold soup and be drenched from the inside out with stillness and wishing. She ate the most beautiful tree there, and I wanted to break her face but above all felt intense sorrow and pity. She makes all my blood rush to the surface and my hair stands up and my eyes tremble and fire tickles my nerves and makes my skin boil and drip onto the wet grass and stain my beloved environment.

Music makes daydreaming easier. Lost inside our heads while life flows by carrying hungry children and sick mothers, and loose maniacs and gentle cashiers, and greedy pigs and faceless butchers, and restless painters and tired farmers, and fat frogs on dirty windowsills, and snowstorms above busy, blinking cities.

He plays a Chinese harp with his falling tears. He waits for his cohabitants to lift him above his mortality. Alone, he sinks into grey matter. When it fills his mouth and covers his eyes, he sees it is Play-Doh, so he plays with it, pulls it apart, squeezes it thru his fingers, and giggles sickly.

Clngr

I hunch like a freaking rabbit. Apollo lands on my shoulder. Blossoms grow penises looking for roaming feathers. Totally damaged creep shows split noticeable laughter upon a bosom of later heaps.

She booms like not a bomb, not the bomb man who threw his life at the death of everyone he was too. Broken ears hear dripping sonnets from burnt oaks leaning against blue sky, stabbing the earth, creaking with black shiny pain, grinding fine teeth into a mouthful of mushy sugary fruit.

Klingon loves to clangor... Pelvic thrusts into hearty space, blown awake; it's always night in space; to see a trillion suns rise and set one turns one's head with open eyes absorbing ancient and recent lights.

Eagerly biting into his lunch bag, summer sunbeams turn his neck into a rusty red truck hood in Winfield Thicket.

So dizzy from singing ringing molecules I ate and dreamt. I slapped my hand on the honey-wooden table. Blood flooded my skin, sounding like a hurricane forgiving the land for letting itself be destroyed.

Pale, fat nerd outside nearby never before helps carpenters. Sweaty, greasy dork strolls along Wilson toward the tracks at midday, then rolls and falls in a tumble dryer for 80 minutes at 205 degrees Fahrenheit.

Noodles between my lips speak for my lonely universally located mind grapes. A bonita vista behind me bugs the window reflection in my laptop screen...

I am growing weak. I am watering my face. My plant needs moisture. The bones and muscles are inappropriately aligned. Do I really care about all the sad hungry faces of people around me? I want to stroke God's cheek. I want to live in a cloud making music, dancing, smiling, and sleeping forever. I want my toes to vibrate at 3500 hertz, explode, bleed, and soak every planet I step on with thick, red nectar of love.

BYEB YEBYBEYE {: {: [.

Gobbet

There is a huge bomb in the middle of a big city. It is about to go off. I order for the bomb to be twice the size. Big enough to destroy the entire city. I was near the edge of town when it blew up. Some other people are around me. The shock wave flies at us bringing pieces of buildings. I'm dodging bricks.

A fragment of raw flesh. Patch of flesh that is still showing. A mouthful of meat. In France in the middle ages, they used to chop live human bodies apart with meat cleavers. They fill their teeth with muscle and fat. They stroll through French lush courtyard gardens full of green leaves and bright colorful flowers. The walls are stacks of large, dark rectangular stones with small patches of moss. You can pour your hand into a bowl. Discharge a puddle of hot glue. Pick up the gobbet of boogers on the eighth grade hallway. Science sucks. Bluebeard's blue balls hideaway in a lonely pirate's cove. Three elephant seals plan a homage to Ernest Goes to Camp. He dunks the Fat Kid. They all cry like little girls in first period. He gets sun in his eye. It goes behind his eyeball and lights up his brain. He has a warm itch on his frontal lobe. Hashtagperiodbloodonmyeyelid.

In the dang lake. The pier is too long. I peer at the deep thirsty water, but I cannot touch it. Lots of slimy dumb fish near the bottom. The clouds are coming in and getting darker. I think the omnipresent trees are shaking. There may be microscopic squirrels scurrying under my skin, says the magical wizard hanging on my sock. It's stupid!, she says as she fills her gobbet hole with goblin pudding. The turkey from the fourth sector scrapes a knife with his talon. Leftover thanksgiving dinner in Mid-August. Sorry the blue is so loud. She is banging on my wall from the bathroom, shattering the tile, open sea ways, leaky vessels, appropriate amounts of rosemary in the soup we blended yesterday for our mothers as they lay in the tree north of Sleepy Hollow, their heads falling off but almost finished with a long, serious game of Life anyway.

Scabrous

I was thinking about music album titles and covers for my musical alter-ego Toe Bleed. I thought of scabs and their interesting surfaces, bumpy and colorful. I wish I would remember my exact thoughts about album ideas. [I am listening to Coconut Records, Jason Schwartzman's music project. It's weird to hear him sing.]
The intricate pointy projections of a scab remind me of my doodles. I would make shaky, windy lines and connect them and fill in the spaces. That reminds me of dripping wet sand and making spindly towers on the beach. That reminds me of when I used that image in a poem called Languidge. That reminds me I like to read and write and connect with people and discover wonderful things. I want to go to that strange rural automated museum in New Zealand. In Sarah's youtube video it looked like the Cathedral of Junk. I have to go outside today. I have to call Home Depot in the next hour. I can work at the same store as Hannah. We can talk and arrange a meeting at her house after work and I can feel her boobs and she can feel my penis and we can make out. I can cry and wonder if there is a person inside of me. 50% of my reasons for typing this now is because Aaron told me to. That was a wild guess. Everything good is full of difficulty, like the human body. I hope Evan lives a long time. After the Storm Rhino killed James' parents, he had a really tough time, but the bugs became his friends and things got better. What is he going to do in New York City? If you write a children's book, you might change someone's life. I am immersed in fantasy. I think I might have sexsomnia. Sometimes in bed I find myself touching my penis without meaning to. I am going to stop at ten a.m. and call Home Depot. I hope I talk to a person and get it settled whether I can work or not. I want to nail two pieces of wood together. At five p.m. I shall call Bobby and ask if I can help him on a job and get paid for it. What I am really going to say is, "Hi, it's Greg. How's it going? ... yeah, yeah [responding, listening] I was wondering if I can still come work for you sometime." OK the conversation goes, possibly ending with me saying I will see him when we go to work. I might cut my hand on a sander and it will scab over after it bleeds. I wonder how soon I can beat Earthbound. I wonder if I'll play the sequel. I wonder if I will make steady progress developing Cold Fire. I keep touching my nipples and thinking about watching porn. Also I love Magic: the Gathering. I want to make cards, make a set, make a deck, and most of all draft M14 with my brothers. This weekend will be amazing. It is Tuesday. It is amazing. The ever-loving internet. Nighttiming!! Dancing and wiggling and jizzing and pooping and barfing and laughing and crying and booty-bumping and drooling snot-nose and screaming and playing slow-motion tennis and grabbing stars from the sky and branding your own skin with them.

I want to toss Domino around and shake the fat off of him and get him to be active and healthy. Tim too. I want to two-step with Aaron in a wooden dance hall and shoot a rifle at cans in the woods with Aaron. I want to try on strange clothes in a thrift store with Aaron. I want to make a movie with someone.

I searched google for 16 bit porn and ended up reading a tumblr post that led me to imagine a real event of a man shooting himself in the head and what the back of his head looked like.

It's almost ten. I don't feel ready to call Home Depot, but I have to. I can use Hannah as my motivation. Not for purely sexual reasons, but for mostly friendly reasons.

I sent her a facebook message asking if she had any advice. I don't know if I should wait to hear from her.

I think I have been trying to write for about an hour.

This music right now and the second definition of scabrous makes me want to be somewhere like Appalachia with rolling hills full of beautiful trees in the fall.

Hannah gave me a good message right away! I am inspired! Bye...

Cart Pusher

Cast of Characters:

- Nelson Angola Petridish

- Chicken Barf Gorgonzola

- Freezeframe Doogal

- Funky Albatross

- Mutant Sex Fish

- Evil Garbanzo Beans

- A Two Ton Deer

- Yurt Judy

            After I leave Walgreens, I find a Wal-mart shopping cart, so I push it back to Wal-mart. After I leave Wal-mart, I find a Target shopping cart, so I push it back to Target. After I leave Target, I find an H-E-B shopping cart, so I push it back to H-E-B. After I leave H-E-B, I find a Randall's shopping cart in a CVS parking lot, so I push it all the way to Randall's. In the Randall's parking lot, I find a Central Market shopping cart, so I push it back to Central Market. In the Central Market parking lot, I find a Sprouts shopping cart, so I push it back to the Sprouts parking lot. In the Sprouts parking lot, I find a Whole Foods parking lot, so I push it back, a whole Foods shopping cyart. In the whole, Foods shapping curt I find a Kray-mert showping cort, so I pish it bick to Kray-mert, yeh dum-dum. After I leave Kray-mert, I got seven kyit-kyat bers, so I pishem becta Church and prays the Lourde that I heaven't god a jab thad I hade so mitch.

October 25th

Ice-cream headache. Love burns the pain away.
Bake SALE! Bake SALE!

I'll lie for you in a hotel bedroom.
I'll lie for you, when the sun goes belly up.

Children are at school.
It's October 25th.

Leaves are orange and brown.
She is four and he is six.

Everyone's asleep.
It's bedtime. 10 o'clock.

Monsters are make believe.
Your dreams are always real.

Dream

I walked thru a ruined city at night. It looked like a warehouse district. It looked like Grand Theft Auto 3. I came up to a drop off with a parallel staircase made of concrete. Three hoodlums cut me off and I tried to get past them and ignore them. It seemed they wanted to rob me. I think they were black and gang members. I jumped down a flight of stairs. It was more like controlling a video game character in 3rd person than doing it myself. It was choppy. A second gang of three attacked me. They shot me with guns and beat me with bats. I got very low health and passed out on a ledge. I woke up right away and ran for my life. They were slow like video game enemies. I think I was shot once more, red spot on my shirt.
I came to a field between warehoures. It was day. I think Mom was there. Ashley was there. I put my arms around her. Mom took a photo of us. I put my hands over her boobs. We all walked. I kept touching her. I felt her hips and lifted up her shirt to see them. I saw her underwear. Her hips were unusually tan and I said she had beautiful hips and she was surprised. I said she was perfect or something. She asked if there was anything lacking about her. I put my hand to her breast. She confirmed asking if her boobs were too small. I dodged the question but sort of said yes in a half-hearted way. I told her that I had almost died four or five times.
I was in some kind of museum, like Magorium's Wonder Emporium with junk and colors everywhere and things hanging from the ceiling. Mom was there. We went downstairs to a gift shop. We looked at the paintings of a Japanese artist. I recognized one and was excited that I had found it again and found out who painted it. He had one name or just went by his last name. It started with A, like Anamato. There was one painting that Mom really didn't like. I told her it looked like the cover of a video game.It was black and white of a man floating in the foreground and yellow light pouring from him like her was the sun towards a city in the background. I asked her why. It was the cover of a book. She said she is irritated by overt patriotism to the USA, which was apparently in the book. I found a desk for listening to an audio book. I picked one of three earphone sets, thinking about the people who used it before me. It was some kinda sailing story. I think someone had listened to the story and left when the study questions came up. I started answering them, but I had no idea. Questions were spoken to me and I was to speak the answer into the microphone in the headset. I was about to say something into the microphone. I saw a girl nearby watching me. A small part of me was embarrassed, but a big part of me didn't care at all.

Definition

I want what Jesus wants. Millions of Vaginas piled around my neck, shriveling and stinking. omygod, i am so tearfully disgusting, so sad and ambivalent. I am what I hate. I love the tiny justice inside of atoms. I am a gas. I infiltrate the verses. There is no universe. I am the spaces. The places are burning memories. The people have no genitals. There is no future. There are no babies. We are the last species left. We only have water left to drink. We cannot wash ourselves. We do not make any new things. We reuse everything. We look at photographs of children who never existed. We cry hourly. We cannot be distracted. We all have skinfections. We all have rotting teeth. Our best buildings are neglected and deteriorating. I am a downer. I have no hope. Or sam says there is always hope. Why am I sad? I have not been outside today.

I have no direction and too many obsessions and not enough occupations and i am too afraid of nothing and everything.

What is my vice. Meaninglessness. I dismiss every good idea. I used to think 'Nothing is possible until it happens.' That does not make any sense. Everything is possible. Sometimes I mourn my imagination.

I looked up the definition of shiftless and I definitely am shiftless.

I am too lazy to read Thomas Pynchon's article on Sloth.

That is definitive. I love America. I am America. I am the world. I am everything. I am selfish.

I am desire. I am insatiable. I am understanding. I am unknowable. I am God. God is everything. God is love. What is a word? What is a letter or a thought? What are sight, hearing, touch, smell and taste? What is a comma? What is a question mark?

What is what. Huge beef! Love country monkey, alphabet souffle!

Dangerous penis! Ah luhv puhhnuhhss!

Ponce. Groovy lion mangler. Plllllllllllease flee my lights under a banana peel eye mask, daddy possum willow.

Greep. 'G-R' words are my favourite. I love my name. You have a stupid cunt. Mi coin is blister, my eyes drip taco flavored fluid.

Everything is a blissful night time dream land open the day look a live perfect human courtney pnats, jesus grow a pomegranate tere plant a seed in my womban go fly believe in life puffy clouds summer fun god sells freedom for everlasting untiring devotion sun tan magma quake shiny beard fluorescent campfire guns that shoot flowers and rainbows wounds bleed ice cream steam hits the dirt and we clean our new faces seems like death is never real combust the critical implement side salad tossed cheesed and ready for eatin'...............................................

Reign of Cold Fire

Main character is born very old and sick, low level. He is in a hospital dying and tries a new energy drink to hit super market shelves called Cold Fire. He loves it, so he keeps drinking it. Amazingly he gets better, and everyone chocks it up to Cold Fire and its advertised rejuvenating effect.

GanDalphini

Coffee on the heart. I burn a hole thru myself. I cry because I am dead.

Needless, thankless friend grows up like a mushroom in the rainiest forest on the broader Northern earth.

Moist cells move to the beats of rhythms of dying and resurrecting ourselves themselves again eternity nobody knows.

Listen to Single Frame! You are not myself!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NOT NOT NOT NOT NOT

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNYYYYYYYYYYYYY prano.... Don't sing in the grave. Just lie down. Rest in fuckin peace defuckinpartment. Get inside of the one bedroom apartment of consciousness, peace, and unrestricted love...

I did it. I owe you. I'll love you... Lemme take a minute. I am on my way... I'll never be close, but I'll always be closer... Just Natalie Portman and the shiny globe of her living eyeball... See and believe. Hear and live. Feel and die... Bye

End of Time

Time blow up. Suckety suck... her face off. More like July Turd. I miss Douglas. I like being tard...
Fuck the time! Big black hard cock. Super female Presbyterian homeless taco meat.
Some time I shall try to beat a better life with my mind on the side, lovely too fairy.
No time left! Forever leave the nice boy unbuckle ship tea to Taiwan. Abacus tuition 45 hundred thousand.
Sure, Nobaby, everyone believes in Time. It's the face on the clock on the mountain up a baby's butt.
Time is time is time is time is a bitch. I don't have to. Listen to Christopher Denny! Your nails grow to the end.

New

Fell asleep, noon, Beatty. Weak beach. Hello, helluva bakery, makin' napkin funeral best flood open ocean tea kettle. Post evergreen tutorial posterior over achiever.

Eggs. ASKI... How do you spell? Wine woman, latte fecal hummus pork chop dude body lover tickle mensch.

Soap flax, operation toadstool beggar. Positively ovary whiner pesto, challenging opinion flatterer flatulence, breath taking, lone weeping wobbler. Boxer say home place horny safe, hello, Craig. Below Sunday, foreskin apple crap crag. Fluid yellow being human tips host fester lost belittle foster pope loafer Timmy Tim-ee's, coat ghost, protect. Leaven never. Picture float. Neat life.

Shim, I am leaving this home. The land burns, and I have a plan to build on a virgin-less property of stone and metal. I left Diane three quarters of a million dollars inside the pillowcase, so please tell her, then make her toast with strawberry jam. I think I ordered them to install the blue swimming pool, but they may need more money to fix their vehicular machines. They all wear ball caps and are tan beyond the tone of the average area whitey.

Terrible motive. I am love. Noble witness. Open wound. Wound-up memory and unsure plans.
Tight arms. Crusty bones. Chocolate teeth. Hairy pores. Stinky organs. Mushy baggage. That is me. What you are doing.

Satisfy so as not to understand or overcome... Understand, overcome, then satisfaction results, whether or not it is acknowledged.

Bye.

Dream

Don''t wait

Huge cliffs. Expensive houses. Vivid colors,

Baby Butterfly

The Guild and the Dodger and the everything we know.

The tiny space for flowers and the time between our toes.

Baby butterfly... Die. Die. Die...

Obviously, She Is Beautiful

Obviously, she is beautiful.
Her name is Butch.
I love her.
She butchers my head.
Always, I look for beautiful things.

She is a middleweight.

I cannot see her.
Accept that she is light.
She contains boxes of color.
Four lines times her face.
Indignant, silent.

Witches on Fire, Building

It is so understood. I am believing. It is perfectly ordered, timed, executed. Creative, prosperous execution. Not a hang man, undertaker, guillotine. The hangman fires the guillotine. Tim and Eric, Carol and... Mr. Henderson? Bubbly neck blood, how horrific the human mind, why go through this trouble? Why not be beautiful and sane? Why not be in control? Why not be safe and clean?

It just happens, when I choose for it to happen. I am only what I am. I think of what I am. I confirm my existence. I behave and create my identity. I decide how to think and feel. I decide what to believe as true and what it is I must do. If it is not true and not what I must do, then I cannot decide it. Does the logic follow. Do I follow logic. Does Godman logic. Is true logic. Does quest the late mark...

Happen be in. Music God Astound. Creative Actual Happen. Being move real. Be in time new fear feel real old happen earth death mean real human happen actual need proper prepare actual innate produce purpose near real fecal hope happen happy need feel read have tome time love never evil reap nova science life true being laughter naughty benign appropriate needless half cock hovel group level hope class structure diminish demolish after nobody neckless ask a people needs feed home struck comet believer change perspective abolish menial servitude lake reckless water fountain microphone speech check mark somatic meaning comatose located smelly apricot soak baby lather scene propagate wheedle sever several seven be came entrust left easy finish.
Today. Fire mask. Separate. Join. Desk. Work. Seen. Fix. Find. Power. Floor. Mine. Tim. Lost. Pat. Look. Him. Fine. Mature. Please.

Dream

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dear me, i have no tongue, i lost all my will to laugh i am dear beyond my life before i was born, i grew up and out and in between and I fell off and I demanded  my own eyes and my own name, I am little baked apple behind a crust, pineapple cherry baked wheat ground dad dust aroma happy to live under piles of centuries old leaves and branches, rotten roots, big dear old dead bear, happy, flossing, open to manipulation, happy, wonky pedestrian nose following down to the fruit loops factory, 775 an hour and 882 from the retired age of the real meat real men, happy, overlooked possible feedback for acting a blessed object wine stone boil oil ash breath grape crap horror gaping mouth wound licker humble pie hole freak sticker pot stink front shame bellow fledgling barrow sledge arrow aftershock upset dirt mobile home park hitch a bicker freedom trail tostada burger foundation mechanic no lo habe hambre..

Dream

I'm in a group home. I walk through halls, through communal rooms. Someone is going to play some music, and I see a few people waiting to listen. I find a seat and a backpack on the floor. There are snacks in the pouch. I eat some fruity gummies. A bag of gummy worms is already open, so I don't touch them. These snacks are for everyone. I share with someone sitting with me. I'm in a scientific community. A team has simulated the feeling of being in a tornado. I see dark swirls on a wall and feel a cool breeze on my face. A large box is delivered to my room. I open it to find what seems to be, I fear, a nuclear warhead. Some assembly is required. It is difficult for me to believe the weapon is so simple and so deadly. Someone comes in, and I throw a blanket over it. Someone says, before Leonardo Da Vinci made the Mona Lisa, he imagined it in his mind. There's a store, like Tracy's in Louisiana, in an area like Oak Hill.

Teenage Dolphin Learning How to Breathe: Aaron's Head

Aaron comes in. I meet him by the kitchen. We stand face to face an arm length away. He wipes away his beard with one motion of his right hand. I have a lighter in my right hand, and I ignite it and put the flame under his chin. It is made of wax and melts into light brown, creamy coffee drops. He stares straight ahead. Bubbles stream up in his eyeballs. I can see his pure white chin bone. His eyeballs drool out of the outer edges of his eye sockets. I cup both hands under his face. His liquid face pools up in my hands and dribbles through my fingers. Bones break apart and plop into my solid flesh bowl. I transfer what I can catch and carry into a pot on the stove. Aaron follows, stands behind me at the stove, and wraps his arms around my neck, holding himself up, head on my shoulder. His face regenerates and his beard grows back in a moment. His legs curl up, and his feet step on his back. He walks up himself, then flips around in front of me to stand on the stove between the burners, while shrinking to half his original size. The melted face in the pot is frozen now. He points a gun-shaped hand at it, and it bursts into flames then disappears. He looks up and forward past everything. He seems powerfully calm and centered. He stamps on the stove forcefully and loudly, pulverizing his feet and continues banging down with magical muscles until his body up to his neck is dust, which I am breathing in heavily. I get really woozy and can barely keep my eyes open. He smiles sincerely at first, then smiles wildly and cackles madly. I fall backwards, as if fainting. The apartment dematerializes and instead of falling down I am flying up through a cloudy, blue sky looking down at Earth. Everything blends together at that height, and human things and natural things are indistinguishable. Aaron's head floats into my chest. I feel like I am, about to orgasm, but very sick at the same time. I feel Aaron's atoms rush through me sticking to the walls of my blood vessels. I get prickly and sweaty, then I break through the atmosphere and freeze almost instantly. My hands snap off just above the wrist. I can see Aaron's face in the palms. He looks like he is having a weird and pleasing dream. I try to high five his face, but I miss, since he is my hands. The stars twinkle intensely and unnaturally. Aaron's faces scream in stereo, looking at scenes behind me, so I open my eyes wide enough for the rest of my head to vanish. All the stars are collapsing towards us. It feels good to be the center of this universe. It gets really hot, and my eyeballs float into Aaron's mouths, left eye into right hand mouth, right eye into left hand mouth. My body crumples up neatly into nothing, because of gravity or something. While Aaron is chewing he seems bored, even if I can't see anymore. The hands clap the loudest sound ever and become one hand containing Aaron's face. It makes a painfully tight fist and becomes Aaron's head. The hair is flowing from the bottom, where the neck would be. There is no nose, mouth, or ears. The skin is firm and hollow. The eyes are on top of the head surrounded evenly by the beard hair. The hairs are singed by the quickly approaching stars. The eyes appear panicked then absorb all the stars as they arrive. This universe is dark, except in the direction that Aaron looks. The stars shine out of his eyes. An unbelievably large hammer smashes Aaron's head. Now, the stars are free, after millions of eons of torturous confinement in microscopic universes. Each one is given its own universe to repopulate with whatever shit it likes, a new credit card with a ten thousand dollar limit, twenty dollars cash, and a pair of blue jeans available in a variety of outrageous and fun colors. Aaron winks again like a Jerk. I give up my soul to roller skate on the ice. I fall of course, but my diaper is full, so... ... sploosh. Be back in about ten, if you can count, you can't count on me. Use my freckles as constellations, and remember your first ancestor, and why he or she saw the clear night sky and vomited upward, like a teenage dolphin learning how to breathe.

Game of thrones, I know some characters and what is going on, outside on the plains and in the forests.

Story.

Suffering stopped just in time for bedtime. Jole ate the's grandmother pie. She makes it with cherry rhubarb 

1213 ranch 620 ste 101

lakeway blvd, 620 right, 1/4 mile on left independece, across from boats

deliver checks to aunt jan's office so they can be fedexed to her in california!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If God Loves Me, Complete this train

The cheer leader got off the airplane at 5 to 6 o'clock. She was too hungry to chew the chicken stew. She had to move her heavy bowels. She left the gate, walked past Sbarro, Cinnabon, Wendy's, Burgerking, and Panda Express, then she thought about her mother and watching T.V. with her, falling asleep at the same boring quiet parts. Her friends were all at home cleaning their socks and roping cows for Sunday dinner. She her the girl plans her dress for Sunday morning service, not stilettos nor a halter top. She doesn't even own them things or her mother would have burned them in the wash room sink and tied up the ashes in a plastic bag and driven the bag to the mall to put it at the bottom of the fullest dumpster. She, Purterf, puts on four layers of pink peach magenta eye shadow blush foundationer. She texts Kevin at 11:49, hoping he is still awake, but it's Saturday, so he would be if he loved her.

Oh, God. I felt I had an honest insight into creation and transcendence. Humans are too sentient for it to be a random evolutionary development. None of this could be an accident. None of this could have not been created for a reason. If not, then I am lost. Then all is lost. I melt into reality. Nothing separates me killing someone from me helping to conceive someone. Life is as complex as a lizard shitting on a rock. A dead star creating a new star is as creative as a man choking a woman with his penis and showing the entire world.
So, there is a purpose for everything. There's one Youtube channel recording and posting everything and there's crying and laughter from behind a screen, something that can never be seen nor sensed in any way, but it is the only truth and it brings on its own satisfaction and it is always creating and always it will have an appetite. Content never runs dry. Free to achieve fulfillment. Against itself, it craves and banishes and believes. It is full, and it has empty space to fill. It is full of emptiness and when it empties itself it is full again.

working on house construction, the frame is done, roof on, someone and i are pushing something like a refrigerator across the ground trying to hook it up,

Dream

I'm at

Dream

I got an email from a performer asking me to bartend a party with only soft drinks. It paid $10 and $10 later for gas. I decided not to do it. Later I was walking in a city, the area looked like UT. I saw a show happening, and looked inside. It was the party I had turned down, so I went inside. There was a large room with maybe 20 people in it and a stage at the far end. A guy in drag wearing several highheeled shoes on one foot, so that he was on a stilt, and holding something long, danced for us and some people in the crowd danced. I ended up wearing the same things as the performer, and for his finale he did a one handed handstand and yelled out that no one else was doing it, then he saw me doing it too. There was one other guy in the room then. Then the performer took off some of his costume and sat in chair with some others at a table on the stage. I went to him and talked. He was the one who sent the email. He had large bones and looked middle eastern.

hafta think bout it.

Slow Transition toward Infinity

Are eternity and timelessness the same?

"I'm glad God is alive." I'm reading The Confessions of St. Augustine. I do not know which I feel more deeply, that God must exist for anything else to exist, or that everything just exists without need for God.

We are even smaller than we seem. What is distraction? If everything was answered, what would happen next, what else is would there be to do? That thought is not helpful. We will never know everything. Everything will never be solved. Nothing will ever be perfect, so there will always be something to do. Some things should be done more than other things. Some things are more important and deserve more attention than other things. It is a critically important decision. How will I spend my living time? Which things deserve my attention? Are they material things? Are they ideas? Is it a combination? Are balance and order the most important goals? How are balance and order achieved? What is the relationship between my emotions and my thoughts? Should I try to control one more than the other? Are they the same things? Will I always harbor conflict between my natural instincts and my learned morals and behaviors? Is this life a constant struggle? Is this blog helping me? Are these thoughts and questions making anything less confusing, more clear?

I cannot say. I have to think bout it. Meditation, things become clear, when my mind becomes clear. I have to lay on the floor. I have to be at peace. I have to purify myself. I have to complete subtle transitions toward wholeness, purity. I have to be less proud, more honest..

before the last one, yes.. t... p.... t... whuss

Have to say some horrible things. I want to fuck m y mother. YOu push I'll go. at 11:47. Get fuckin drunker than shit fuck in a dick hole retard labia, suck, butts.

greg great super great... fronk... fupper, blubbper... fogiyoerspiqjbvxfgpuryp... that is how my goaesssss

DAHDDAY!?

Lost any good balls! today Dahdday?! Can you feel my balls! in Space,man?!

Thast it.

Leg up

My legs won't wake up.

You don't have to know anything about me in order to swear upon my mother's grave.

I have Indian padding in my birthday. There is something smelly about my fish pants.

I don't know anything about you, but I still swear upon your mother's grave.

knot know

thot it was 4 but it is but i thot it was 5 but it is just below four in the morning.... I don t know how to live here. i canoot go to sleep. I cannot live here much longer. I cannot see iron man 3 today because i have to sleep instead. i have to text tim and maybe mom too, i hope they dont really care. i do not care about my own life. i have to stare at the keyboard to type this. i am not a good typer. i can do something well, but i have ever hardly tried to to do many things ever then not really u didnt do that much in the 45 years from since you had to be alive in the times since you were conceived like a baby. i am afraid of the cars and the people and the blunt hard objects and shrp tools and heavy machines and fast moving things and high places and crazy people and guns and weapons and drugs and peoples.... i do want to die, but not until i figure something out about tonight. i do not want to go to sleep.

i thought about the graphic novel for tim and i. I got excited abut the land living space story. a tree i thought of titles. Ten home tree. magic tiny magic animals spirits. people like me, like me, i am like me, i like me. I love dodger leigh. she head her head she thinks and said her thoughts. she is a nice real person and i love who she is online. I am her when i see the life she lived on the internet, it is repeated living long forever, young and able. evrything. it is very late. very late. I do not want to see iron man. I have to be an answer seeker. I have to find an answer and make an answer the words are annoying. keyboards are dirty. im dirty my dirt is dirty my life and mind and love are dirty. Learn to be what i am. I think i am better now for not sleeping but i do not know how much of a choice this has beeen. It is almost 430 am, and i do not know how i came where i came i am came to the tv the life the world, i came from here. i dont know what i am or what is the real thing, or what is real or how to say perfectly the things i think about, i think around all idea that i think i dont think directly to the idea of existence, why is this, what is the reason, why do this, what is it to do, why do that, why not that, where did this come from, why is anything? Just those things, I cannot say them, type them, by my voice, by my self, my mind, my being. noose around my teeth, broken everything, everyone is mean, mean things are mean to everyone who is nice, so convoluted thought, too many words to say no thing, to say what i am being now, to say what i think is the right real now thing. I think dodger is me, i have been thoroughly explained. thru the do of science and makers and creators and explainers, and they have been hard at work. what does the difference make? what does it matter? is there any reason. i do knot know any people. I am feel more alone. inside me i am eternal of alone, and then i live around everyone and we all know the same life and we all live a new different life, our lives are never the same, the nature of the reality we live according to our tests of the reality and of our selves... i do knot know... How much are they what is a real person? do we do anything right? is this what we are? how do we control ourselves? how do we imagine what to be, and then make them of our mind the us of now in reality... does something?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? this is only explain, i can do this. I have to try. This is an option. This has to be correctted. Correct fact. I am making sure that this is real. I am true to the state of me now. i have to change. Will to survive. Will to change. Change survive to thrive, do not be fake. Be better. You can do better. I am god, I will be like god. I will be like the purpose of all of us doing these things for a very good reason, because we have to and we want to. I need to slow down. I have to change the thing, the thing I am. I am going to realize that I am doing this for life for the real life that we have to live because it is us and we have one choice that we have to choose, or there is the awful love of nothing and the flat reality of now.... We are going there to the round edges, we are seeing below the bottom and we are getting to the pinnacle of the other side, the side behind the side we imagine as the other side, the infinite loop of knowing and accepting and remembering and looking and finding with a feeling that lives beyond and behind us when we feel ourselves... nice, you win. Youre a winner, you find a life that is perfect in every phuggin weigh.... OK, I was serious, but now I am done funnyjoking around with the time.... What am i... bye

Black magic

The Wicked Image

Black Magic and the Spellbreakers

Forced substance and false weight or false substance and forced weight...

I dunno why but I can't care

Sing it out, its easy

Lighter than emptiness

Hollow air

Why not just do it

real is real, magic is love

I belong to a club but they wont have me as a member

I do not want to believe in my memories, I imagine them all

nothing has ever happened, nothing will ever happen

I am imagining everything right now, that is what is

that is all that this is

this is all that is

this is it

the


Love without mercy

More than love, it's everything we see and do
More than those, it's everything those things are too
and everything they see and doo and what those are too

I work in the dentist office. I sell cookies and cakes and cremes. We eyeball the manufacturing district with science and schemes and plastic dreams...

rerepublish

I love you more than god hates me
the lightning is gold and green
sacrifice your ghostly sea

Anono Froightful Free Wrightful

So Goddamn Freegen, Dodger 200 times daily, From 2011. She's in a hotel. I'm drinking Chamomile tea. I cannot say wwhat I say. I do not say any say. I have Spanglish on silent. This Paz woman is berry pretty. This is not a diary style entry. But it is. I am nothing now. I have to fire myself. I want to say, I do not know now from then. I am my own love of my life. I read Aaron letter "You are not a world unto yourself." I thought I was getting to know what that means. I am useless. No one is called I do not go anywhare. Thank you Gregory, My name is John!!!!!!!!!!! FUcki!! mFucking Dick, What fuck lovely silver sicking such suck fuck a deeeeeeeeeeeeckckckckckckckckckckc!!!!! I made an appointment for an interview at Aaron's Rental place. Uhh no uhh youre uhh you... just sit there. It was nice to see Kate Winslet vomit on coffee table last night. I wanted her to vomit again. Just peace, just a peace of love in the light of the life of the earth of the last never being...

GO DONE

sow whateber

It's harder to live with myself. It's hard to handle myself.
Love me up or love me down. I don't care, as long as we go home.
I was in love with Dodger Leigh last night. I tried to read my blog but the internet died.
My failing life is in tune with the failing earth. I'm not totally sad.
There are still things to do, things to love.
To Aaron: When's the last time you went to the dentist and masturbated? Separately.
I am going to go for a walk at dawn. I'm drinking coffee and Bailey's coffee creamer.
A freight train derailed in east Austin. A water mane broke at McNeil High School.
Two and half inches fell at the airport. Marble Falls saw golfball sized hail.
Hi, Emmy. What does Emmy stand for from the awards show?
It's understandable. It's unstandable. I can't even sit it. Their conciousness.  All the places you'll go.
All the people you'll see. They want to be me.  Help them help me help you help us.
I am never going to lie again. I am going to learn how to say exactly what I want.
In 2,009, exactly the same thing happened. All of these have heightened North Korea alarm.
How A mazing it would be if I were A zactly what It be. I wonder how you can expect it to guide me hoh oh oh ohh oh oh oh oh oh oh woah oh woah woah woah oh oh oh ommmmme.
OHHH, I could......... Nohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh {: !!!!!!!!!
I like you like you like me like we like we.

Grimes wakes up late and stumbles through the dark of her bedroom into her bathroom. She squints in the light and pulls her baggy men's shirt over her head. She unhooks her plain lacy white bra. She unbuttons and unzips her shorts and dances out of them. She lifts her feet up one at a time to pull her socks off and toss them on the counter. The linoleum is cold , so she jumps onto the tub rug. She reaches down for the faucet handles and turns the hot water all the way up and steam begins the rise immediately. She rubs her face, runs her fingers through her black and blonde hair, and shivers slightly all over, wiggling from her fingers and toes. She turns the hot water down and steps tentatively into the tub. She is tense when the water first hits her prickly skin, but she loosens up in waves, then lets out a long sigh and sags her shoulders and head, letting her hair soak and release streams along her body, then off into the drain, off to everywhere.
The water is off and a small pool under the faucet gets smaller. Grimes drips. She stretches and looks at the ceiling, white, close to peeling. She throws aside the liner and curtain and hops onto the rug, reaching for a towel. A drop from her elbow lands on a roll of toilet paper and spreads through it to four times its original diameter. Grimes rubs herself thoroughly and roughly with the pinkish fluffy towel, not used since it was last washed and dried. But, now on to the boring stuffs... Does it need...?
Then the old clunker pulls up. Grimes takes another bite of favorite cereal, I don't know what it is, with soy milk, as the car honks, like a dying goose, because it is. I M just what I know. Grimes runs out the front door down the porch steps, her shirt hanging around the middle of her upper right around, exposing her bra strap and an occasional elbow. The car door is swung open by anonymous arm as Grimes crosses the border from lawn to sidewalk, and she clutches the inside handle and slams it closed as she plops on the bucket seat, her hair whipping across her flushed face.
Maybe I should... do what I should do. But I think I'm not sure of what that is right now.
Again I think of the past and it seems all right. Again I think of the future and I don't see anything at all.
I'm thinking, I'm thinking, I'm thinking, I, I, I-I, I-I-I... I.
Grimes climbs into the top bunk, replaces her clothes with a one-day-old quilt, and dives off the second floor into the dayglowing youngdeep pool at the wildnight party for dancers and halflivers.

2,024, Us, Fantasy, and Reality

In the year 2,024, gasoline costs $14.59 a gallon, and I walk everywhere I go. I haven't had a car in 8 years.  
I have a stock pile of vegetables and grain in a dirt cellar. I live in a stone hut 45 miles from the nearest metropolitan area. I've lived there for 5 and a half years. A friend, who I met two years earlier, took me there, introduced me to the owner and I went back so many times that we decided I should stay. I hunt, gather, and farm around the area most of the time. I cook fairly often. I help other members of the community plan our days, our work and recreation. We go on adventures and have parties. We make crafts and craft stories. From a 2,013 perspective, we are basically camping and having a great time 24/7. We visit other communities, however far our group is willing to travel, and tell our stories and teach what we have learned. Nature tortures us often, but still not as often as we torture each other and ourselves with mindlessness and mischief. Life is almost never dull. Ten years ago, this life would seem painfully dull, but still strangely desirable. Now, we revel and flourish in our peaceful, harmonious, simple lives.

Thend

afterwords,

Reality, fantasy, reality, fantasy, reality, fantasy, reality, fantasy, reality, fantasy, reality, fantasy, reality, it's tearing me up, it's tearing me up, fantasy, reality, fantasy, reality, fantasy, reality, fantasy, reality, fantasy, reality, fantasy, reality, fantasy, reality, fantasy, reality tearing me up, tearing me up, me up, me up.
Fantasy and reality.

dram

DOnt kill myself dooint koil moiself dont kerr merrsrrf derrnt kerr merrserr

Do Not Do Nothing! Oh, Oh, K! KK. K! It is O.K! I am not O.K.!

Ity's OKay! I dooo noooot Knooooow! I do KNot now! Nooooooooooo!!!!!

I doooo nooottttttttttt nnnnnnnnnnnoooooooooooooooooooeeeeeeeeeeeee AHHHHHHHH!!!!!

IUam SiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiIIIIII leennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt......

It will be allllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll  nIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIighttttttttttttttt

BE ALL THE REST OK!!!

kkkkk, issss this all. Kiss, Kayyyyysssss, Meeeghhhhhhhhhhh.

Day Do DOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.  ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGHHHHHHHHHHH... Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Darm. It's flaky. Flake make. Klake. Are. Far... Kward. Sard... ehhhhhhhhhhhh bleeeeeeeeeessssssss... uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.... duhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.... sehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...

I am a gun. Guhhhhhhhh. Blake, my foreskiiiiiii, ist going drunnnnnnnnnnnn.... O.

Kroowwwww!!!!!! Beeennnyyy. Firannnnnn!!!! Chimmm Chimmmmm,, Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.!!!!!

Blase, Blaysssss!!! Ko.... I am forrrrrrrrriiiinnnnggg..............................................

My Fan

My fan dribbles then shoots. He wakes like a tiger feasting in the jungle. He has a bone through his nose and shrunken heads around his neck. He sticks posters of famous sportsmen to sappy trees. The sun is the brightest spotlight we have. My fan knows his world is bigger than the rest. He is the most famous world among his worlds. Right now his first priority is to skewer three frogs and drink their blood. Then he can find another place to sleep until dark.

I don't what to add. Know what? My fan likes everything I do not. Ahhhhhh, haha. Some funny? I just fell out of my car. I picked my fan up at the Ugandan/Texan Airport. He is six feet and ten inches tall. He told a really dumb, boring story on the way to church. He crunched on the fried chicken skin as if he had never eaten a dead animal. We held hands on the way to the parking garage, and he told me he was afraid of leprechauns. I wanted to roll my eyes, but I just said I was afraid of sharks and the ocean in general.

He had to be at school by 9 am. He ate cookies for breakfast, because I had had too much to to drink the night before. Uncle Respus met us at the gate with the second half of the project. He was a real stand up guy, even while seated. I kissed my fan on the cheek and said there was no way he could fail...................... duh... oops.

Frite

Koala Killa, Monkey Butts, In too deep, In the ass dood hole readsy to fuck? Hoe Happy, My slap brain gram, doop, JUice toolips, ... Heollo, in this ever pussy wirld, I gripe about the insane prices of sucking her tit, I am losing my hands to the hate of the demon of gross girl goiter gurgle. Fire his dimple. I am sober I cry to the you, Open little negro dimonds. He is an old life going to hell I sleep It's money in the time i sheer the trine burden. Nope no one chokes. Penis greef, Noone fools demonize sinics. I inflate homo presbyterians. Hope shone Gear blown Hope happy, Homo, hegro, ny megro. Shit allova her body. Kill the fire girl. She fates hear toes in the toon tonight. In a love, Time in dimond. It is in her folding chair, hammy, grapes heel, beenas in tropical loft loofa doop shit yoo huddle under two udders follicle eroded, In time I fear lotus brooms. Copulate a hero doozen, Dozin' feeler fool hope you see my readyness hipe the gravy in the jerry funck tribe.

Forst or green fuck negroes in the holla wood as hard as demon cracks. Blake foster jilly human free son. Joke forest, human face waste. Faerie noodle time indigest a copper node. Greg has delicate feces in the topple bun fung all bee hoochies. Hobbit grumpy He shits the flood. Hope umpire notice the little boy 9 year old fecund dick fluid, He forget the reaming rape of ass blood nigga fucking human dumps, ripped anus an olive grew twenty bleeding finite metres. Hymen demon under groan hysterectomy wife with yellow fuck shits in the time really wired un fairy vampire nipple sac of tube jello just in the yelling at last hurculees jump into the open earth dew pool.

Dumpster. Hi, my girly friend. Just falling off the girth of tall skwy rapers. Is the nearest youth central pope belly in the herse was the young tungsten Opium scully, Mulder, Schoulder peeps, Peel a nickel out of the back skin fat lip hump her grimy nice greasy hiney.

He's about to go to the fair. In Hiroshima, the tipsy wait staff stills moon silly wets. Moosy troop host peers solidify no oak fern mission camps.

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