Screed magnet motorhead said "I am ghetto war slave" as she drove long nails into the knave. She brave, enmeshed in a maze. This day, this minute, hopping like an unkilled snapper on a skillet. I don't look, stare into sidewalk air, this jazz evening green tea becomes me, I haven't revealed the rules while winning the game, which isn't entirely fair.
Unlike tall soda boys, loud tweedy-duddies, we don't speak like sentences tend to speak, spoken thoughts unbroken plots and narrow corridors. I don't publish, I don't petition, I sit at home and read books about investments and nutrition. I have 5 minutes to write this, so I've lost after having 11 days to fight this. We build it up, it overflows, who will click? Thickness that sickness, sun of a brickness.
11/22/2007
11/11/2007
Extremely Blurry Post
I have only a couple seconds, ok:
- First, LOVE the new LEOPARD. It takes away so many compu-noyances from my OS X life-cycle! MacIntosh, thy name is... satisfaction.
- Next -- anyone seen The Wire? Great show -- apparently -- but neither have I. And what's this about a serial killer named Dexter? Another great show I intend to keep hearing about from other people.
- I wonder, how do you move your apartment into a bunch of boxes, when you've been living all this time outside of a box. Is that all my life is, a bunch of boxable crap to be put in a box? Yes it is.
- I wish I spoke Gaelic. Also, I wish I knew why.
- I've been told I have a hair dangling from my jacket. But not every day.
- Nobody talks like this any more: "I AM A ROBOT! GIVE ME CANDY!" I mean, Hallowe'en was soooo long ago.
- People don't give the Taxman enough credit. Did John and George die in vain? The Beatles made music for a reason. So pay your taxes, while my keyboard gently weeps.
- If I was a whale with digestion problems, I would consider outsourcing my stomach functions to a school of piranha.
- Proselytize all you like, you cannot stop sidewalk litterbugs. My solution: sidewalk sledgehammers.
- When donuts are finally shaped like the infinity symbol, every donut could last forever. Coffee Time's two-day-old product will finally be appealing in comparison.
- I've yet to make my mark on the puppet theatre scene. I've also never climbed a skyscraper using just the stairs. These will be my dying regrets.
11/05/2007
Inauspicious comeback
We are drunk, loving lifelessness, fill each day with nightlong bluster. So contain what you can't create (contain it, that is, explain it: drain it of life). Drink wine with someone else's wife, raw steak tartare with your wit, your carving knife.
The approval I seek: my mind's eye's Everest peak. Blind to what I seek. Pride won't let me speak.
Don't name names or play blame games, lay in bed with collectors of strife. He loved her, and she swallowed his forboding incoherence, left him a beggar in heaven, silent and innocent.
Key to success: possess pretension to transcend daily drudgery -- never mind what a masterpiece monotony may make.
Insects are exalted somehow: silk from worms, jewels from bottom-feeders, diamonds from coal, gold from oil. (Are dinosaurs Catholic? We are the agents of their ascension, resurrecting fossil fuel corpses to inject into the stratosphere).
Don't mind me, while you drink coffee, quietly having a religious experience.
Grimly gathering dust by court order, my card-castle dictionary's writhing collapse. I'm still stupefied by bricks and mortar. How do buildings go up - who could plan that well? I know why they fall. A well-intentioned man pleases no one at all. What sticks gather Earth; what's lost in the entropy? Include unwritten notes from my latest symphony.
The approval I seek: my mind's eye's Everest peak. Blind to what I seek. Pride won't let me speak.
Don't name names or play blame games, lay in bed with collectors of strife. He loved her, and she swallowed his forboding incoherence, left him a beggar in heaven, silent and innocent.
Key to success: possess pretension to transcend daily drudgery -- never mind what a masterpiece monotony may make.
Insects are exalted somehow: silk from worms, jewels from bottom-feeders, diamonds from coal, gold from oil. (Are dinosaurs Catholic? We are the agents of their ascension, resurrecting fossil fuel corpses to inject into the stratosphere).
Don't mind me, while you drink coffee, quietly having a religious experience.
Grimly gathering dust by court order, my card-castle dictionary's writhing collapse. I'm still stupefied by bricks and mortar. How do buildings go up - who could plan that well? I know why they fall. A well-intentioned man pleases no one at all. What sticks gather Earth; what's lost in the entropy? Include unwritten notes from my latest symphony.
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