Choosing my words
more carefully, the power in My
hands? Not without discipline, exercise,
and stretching? So the power is in my hands? That’s a lot of pressure. Take it back, my libido. Should I open this up? Should I open my self? Am I up to scrutiny? So many questions when you can’t sleep. There was an outline…
I
really appreciate her present (however abstract) presence. I appreciate
her being. I want to give her body stuff
ha-ha. There will be one day when
the laughs will all be mine! And the
horde of laughter (the tour group
from the group home) will laugh for the last
time! My competition in abstraction
salutes the smashing sun. I really love her so my! Oh my! So much! Forever never-never forever, but on and on
into infinity and maybe even eternity instead or also? What backwards rides everything? Artificial intelligence shoves gnomes up yoga
pants victims near vain, conceited mirrors, a real clockwork
horrorshow! The lost art of
fucking-people-over is really lost on her, as I believe in her foot,
thankfully, and gratefully I believe and
in the flesh, my spirit, Jesus,
my Lord, the debt I will owe will be
too great! Two pennies fare o’er
sticks! (Styx) Fuck it, let’s sail! Frankenstein’s promethean wide-world
worldwide getaway-from-revenge scheme against his own spirit made
reanimated flesh, another freak unable to find love for the reason that his God
was a real son-of-a-bitch.
My intelligence; my phoniness; the reason I like to party is man is made of mostly water, and while some of us barely know
ourselves, I remember that it’s water that carries that charge and alcohol that
keeps that liquid spark alive! If nature
has taught me anything; flow. The
difference between having and not having is not so different if you have any
imagination, but obsessions,
fetishes, and attachments draw me to things like the negative pole of an evil
magnet, the one that took your chunky
digit on the last day you forgot to skip for not the streets, but for corporate
credit, corporeal currency, and bodily Beelzebub. “Are you proud of yourself?”
The past that pursues a person,
like a clown to whatever ‘it’ is or a fool like a dog to its own vomit, what
can Solomon do but preach and rule knowing his conviction and the ring he laid
down at her feet with supreme deference? I’m a rat by comparison to you, so
merciful, so kind…I put pressure on myself
to compare…
Later that day: Jamie’s telling me about Paul Walker de
Asheville’s Quatro de Cinco taco ride and bicycle detailing; decal yellow. “All
work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” reads my Red King mug. Little links in the chain cipher decipher, interpret, and fantasize. The early dog gets the pet?
The police dog fetches the stray bullet,
canine olfactory evidence; C.O.E. (Hapax L. v. 6th Amendment). Beautiful molting bug, hanging from my light fixture, will you become as a delicate
jewel encased in amber? Mosquito’s proboscis! The colored (red) guy can barely maneuver the benches or
close his dilapidated car’s door! He may
be a member of the mobile homeless.
[Rancheros on Niagara, near the gas station, formerly Rascals
(directions to a native Buffalonian)]
Still later that day: At Armory
restaurant for the first time to eat food…a disorganized noontime scene,
Italian restaurant, is it too late for lasagna? Never (IMO)! Harbison Bros. Appenheimer Ave. (East side) -> L.B.’s urban farm (also East side) where
we’re potentially going to grow mushrooms out of logs. In the interim I’ll figure out a system for
pasteurizing straw. Will need thermometer,
siphon (move it), have 55-gallon basket materialized (do I need
it?), tub, and weed-whacker
for chopping straw into finer pieces.
Tomorrow, try hose-water +
siphon system for soaking coffee-oyster blocks (where dehydration seems to be a
problem (too many coffee exudites? (didn’t need siphon (amethyst enough to
tip)))) Asheville next week, Antonia
should be counted upon because she’s great (and I think I love her, (but only fools rush in (as They say (fuckin’ cabal)))). Butterflies anyway…And turtles all the way
down…And the Bruce is loose.
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