7/9/14 @ 2257
"Genderless Mentality... or is it Wymentality? Only in Wyoming."
“It’s hard to understand what’s going on in my head. What’s
going on in my head is hard to understand. Maybe I’m hard-headed. Maybe I have
something hard in my head. It’s hard to understand. What’s going on in my head
is not so obvious,” a lady speaking, “I’ve got no direction, I’m aimless and
natural. Maybe I’m artless instead...artlessly natural and directed. I’m coy; I’m selfish. I need humor because laughter drains out of me through my mouth
and pores. Fear would drive me crazy. So would imagined tickles. Once I slept
through the eyes of a stranger.”
Are all wizards ambidextrous or are no wands ergonomic? Why
does wizard rhyme with lizard and blizzard? Strange noises coming from my
bathroom, a different type of whirring this time, a higher-pitched motor, the
intensity, no, the amplitude of stridation*. A
scribulent* trance common to ecstasy as a moral code
like the hedonist assertion that there is no moral code but PLEASURE! Lots of
it, most of the time. Aim high! Aim high
on marijuana!
stridation - compound word of stride music and striation geology
scribulent - something that a scribbling scribe would produce.
8/11/14 @ 1108
"I, Hedonist"
I awaken after a night of delirium tremens after a week of
bending straws into cocktails. It sounds
like people fucking outside my window (I remember crows). My mind has been mocking me all night in the
language of Ulysses: “They looked. Murderer’s ground. It passed darkly.
Shuttered, tenantless, unweeded garden. Whole place gone to hell.” What the
hell is wrong with me exploiting myself for pleasure? Because I am then
exploited by others for their own pleasures too? My body looks worse than it did the day
before. I am not being by best. I don’t know what to do to be my best; this is
high-anxiety. Jeff, Connie, Noreen:
names in my book of falling behind schedule (from zero to one to zero *blip*!),
imaginary sine up, ten thousand things to be present for, another RSVP not responded
to. Another surprise appearance?
Lights, salary, saucesauce!
The lord of social deviants, a Dadaist.
Even dogs know to hide.
New body a slop, new soul a void,
If I had the Devil’s wit…
Eve’s part of man, that other funny bone, a seed of
cartilage and knowledge, tickled Adam’s man parts. Here come the ouroborates*, otiose ottava*,
technical backbone, lunch sac lung and peanut brain.
Ouroborates - worshipers of the snake that swallows its own tail
Otiose ottava - a pointless heroic rhyme (usually Italian)
8/11/14 @ 1216
“Fruit of the Mews”
A snake ingests the double-backed feline domesticati. The snake swallows them both at the same
time. Mornings admonish the drunkard
wasting melatonin, neuromelatonin, B1, and catecholamines. Fucking catecholamines in my eroding synapse
alleys, collapsing cell walls, and bleeding onto cellular sidewalks. Cats yowl; catecholamines y’all!
Cartoon
shitface wolfman Jack, quail egg sea urchin vodka, shooting mollusk, special
operations octopi. Colorful hibachi
Iphone games hone generalized ideologies, collections of gardens of imaginary
flower estates, direct audio-visual stimuli: eye-drunkennesses. “IDs please,” at Seabar, Colt 45, pinky up.
“Woke up in my own New Year’s Tullamore baby vomit. Felt like Hendrix had he survived? Vomitus asphyxiation. Chemical cause still a mystery.” Pierce Bricks, Jeremy, and Cal. House of spackle. Moving offices, 15 computers, human resource
moments. Liberty hounds the
unchaste. One guy at the bar, a lawyer,
knows all about beer, hops, and the surly tender. He gives schizophrenic advice. Cougar
impasse? Shotgun wedding? Rational fear? Sur la Caesar! Ongoing semantics validate laughs, validate
slaughters. It tells the truth about uncentered foci* (chronic distractions),
staying trapped in seasons of suffering, circles in circles, fly swot?
Antihistamine? Here kitty! Tend the till.
High-speed
Buffalo buffalo connections buffalo.
They send many a man flying high against gravity, waiting on tip
severance from their diner, another day’s prating ends in rum.
8/22/14 @ 1219
"Sour Soul Salsa"
A soul, disregarded by atheists, is still a word that bears
recognition. In that sense it is
undeniably real. What weight a word carries is essential to the bearer. What qualities might a good word bearer
embody? Conventions of truth, justice,
and humility, and the ability to nurture souls.
Perversions cripple the spirit, soul’s synonym. If the space between things compel, free the
spirited! My noisy chamber of mush, I
slug through, feeling hurled. Weep ray;
we pray prayers full of sorrow to ward off the heathen, society’s menace. 1) The
chronically knocked-up freeloading loin laborer. Drop the bundle! Have offspring! How far gone? Some manifestations sing to
themselves. Take my wave-riding,
coal-mining friend, town drunk #2, Mike’s Hard inebriant, pale, white-grey
hair, moustache, glasses, lives with his aunt down the avenue bus route, a real
chucklehead. Buried under the urban
alcoholic’s concretisms*, the goods of evil, fruits of his idle hands and
pleading eyes. He has the tic gene of a
chronic flincher. Counter that with the
composed older gentleman commanding the attention of the bartender half his
age, getting away with sunglasses and a panama hat indoors. Somehow his spirit seems less pure and more
satanic, the way he makes his personality fuckable, the fuck dabbler, urbane
cunt connoisseur, fresh to death and close to it too, as the last liquid soul
leaves the body, she stirs with her hot hunger under his receded life-force and
his rock hard rigor mortis.
Concretism – any type of hardened belief, usually in spite
of rationality
8/31/14 @ 1100
Innocence blown by a zephyr (taken away by a light breeze),
I feel pleasure around my junk east of Eden? West, God (the One)’s one story
ranch in Texas, home of evangelicalamericans who pray so hard their shit blooms
smooth-stalked roses.
What is
high school equivalency? What is the highest equivalency? An elevated/excited
plane/orbit, Pluto and the violent death of nine probably Arabs. Crack the Charmin code of ass jammin’ to
Signs and Signifiers on jazz cigarettes.
Digital
clock starin’, seeing parallel separation between elevens, block gaps, mass
between openness. Meat sauces melt
inside the cold cock and ooze out with auditory hallucinations setting in. Here come the hip tricks leading susceptible
persons into neon nights. I would like
to shut it off, but being employed to keep it up has its percodentals (managing
nagging pains, man).
What is
dry country bliss? What desertified clustermonkey decides between God and
Allah? One and the same people who blow
themselves up to compete. The pride of
the righteously inclined hangs from their necks, an AK-47. “Naked virgins, Dude.”
Careless
deeds’ seeds’ dharma of difficult experiences, respond carefully, and as if
care were easy. I can barely take care
of myself! My own business! What should be of relative ease?! The child regards the machine. The man manages his personal relationships.
Wrong so often, wrong as policy, incorrect institutions circumvent so often and
what is the true cost of ink? Consider
value per volume. Think, think…
9/12/14 @ 2226
"The Reason Ability"
“Distance, n.
The
only thing that the rich are willing for the poor to call theirs, and keep.”
Bierce, A.
“Keep your friends close, and your
enemies closer.”
“Know
your enemy and know yourself and you will always be victorious.” Sun-Tzu
My
friend, the closest, always there, lurking in the shadow of loss and regret.
Time and unprofitable energy expenditure, leeching lechery into the pit with
your coal and pick-ax-nicker. Fossil,
that old timepiece, fueled sunset activities.
Carbon date me? Measure my radioactive bone. Ah, my head!
I’ve
been consistently tired lately, I know what it is, I’m bored, and it’s all my
fault. I’ve got to do something about my
boring nature or I might stay asleep. I
think about where my soul might be going and then I shake my dick at it. She
wants my soul (to Spoon), another succubus.
I do my best to give it to her but such a thing is hard to describe.
It’s also difficult to explain. Metaphysics and organic chemistry restructure
my cellular biology. What part does the
mind play? I psyche myself out, drink, and dream of nothing. You and I
together? What is that? Do the math. It’s all in your head until it isn’t. Let
it out, all of it or as much as you can, motivating myself as much as I
can. It’s easier to hinder, but what is
progress? Determination of self and the individual’s ability to achieve higher
standards, or higher degrees of good measure, high-society’s men on the central
planning board or committee govern psyched-out country people, city and town
folk. Flag waving flagellates whip
themselves into a frenzy of whipping one another and their submissive
wives. Why not? Who has the reason ability?
--
"Poor People Plants"
Shades of eraser;
To care what some people think!
Twenty-eight blushes.
Psyched-out
haiku: Twenty-eight colors, why not?
Shame redder. Honor bronzer. Kiss
and make-up; kiss the makeup.
Sometimes
it takes a very long time to finish something that has been started. Sometimes I think to myself, perhaps it never
ends that it will never be finished, but then I realize my unreasonable wishful
thinking. Of course it has to end. Of course it needs to be finished before I
die! Time might not last forever! Forever enough! I have the comparative ability. Compared to the rest, the best comparer was
the discoverer of novel duality, truth of over half of all multiverses, and
accepted by just half of all those with the Second Edition of the Comparative
Universal.
Meanwhile,
historical objectivists objectify artifacts, fuckin’ urns ‘n’ vases.
This
one came from the Holy Scripture:
“And he
shall take to cleanse the house two birds, and cedar wood, and scarlet, and
hyssop: And he shall kill the one of the birds in an earthen vessel over
running water: And he shall take the cedar wood, and the hyssop, and the
scarlet, and the living bird, and dip them in the blood of the slain bird, and
in the running water, and sprinkle the house seven times: And he shall cleanse
the house with the blood of the bird, and with the running water, and with the
living bird, and with the cedar wood, and with the hyssop, and with the
scarlet: But he shall let go the living bird out of the city into the open
fields, and make an atonement for the house: and it shall be clean,” Leviticus
14:49-53
He
pardoned the turkey? Thanks, Obama.
Central
planners neglect lepers, preferring to throw welfare money at problems that
could be solved by tossing hyssop instead.
It’s this type of orthodox thinking that’ll get this country out of the
gutter and into the earthen vessel!
Humaniterrorists
(humanitarian terrorists) – people who truly believe in the fear that we all
must have.
