i wear special socks

they protect me from evil spirits

they work 1/20th of the time

i wear normal socks 1/2 of the time

i had a head for numbers, i've lost track of some of them
i still have some numbers in my head

frenzied attacks of the keyboard

cadenzas, ya know?

well, anyway, vibe this way or that way?

let there be light? yeah, i guess

more light, more sound

no cough at least, lucky

lucky lucky lucky
smiling
lucky lucky lucky


literate

so it's pretty sad
pretty straight
pretty pure
pure happiness

i feel great, yes... ....

microdotted... ... ... .... .... ....


AND I'M STILL SITTING HERE

WRITING MY WILL

WITH MY COCKATOO QUILL

paranoid glances over shoulders
boy-yoy-yoy-yoy---- arpreggios forever
sift gold buddies, sift gold
keith's piano technique is phenomenal
iron pyrite, it's not right, or is it
that sort of thing, it will make sense
when it does, and it does

i'm not entertaining anymore though, although
there will probably be residuals, there always are
how many ways to say, soaked in gasoline, how many ways are there to say that?

like that?

so we're rolling
in the mix, and by mix i mean me
and by me i mean i
and by and bye

and, well...

clause, contracts, it's all up in the air, fun, friends, family, salvation... mr. brownstone jaysus christ - are you peaking in the red? good question

very good question
always question -- are you peaking in the red?
and is the recording light on?
as many layers as possible/neccessary/slash

so we slog on

and art feels good again - we regain purpose, yeah

bundle it up
bundle it up until it bursts
but it's so bee you tee full

reality is,
a little of this and that

a portion
aportion

i've done it again, as is
obvious
so

primo - more to cum, drenched, for thoze that like the dregz

shallow

Jadira, why are you so hollow? I want to write about you, but all I can picture is the void.

The farther you go, the less they call back, the crazy brainy bitchy girl said to me. I knew she was right. But I had the blond hairs of Batha in my head. I stumbled outward, embracing delirium, hoping for clarity. Thinking the waters were friendly, they'd take care of me, allow me. To plant a kiss, grow a forest, house a development.

I'm patient, on the shore of the puddle, playing with the pebbles, picking them up, holding them, naming them, nah. Dropping them back on the ground. Patiently waiting for nothing. The end is a theory. Nothing.

There was Batha, in static, back in the puddle. Jostled with waves. Worked a double shift and made 232$ by the time I decided I'd stacked enough items. Swung by some current Batha was on, so I thought, in memories of closed circuit television broadcasts and pranks played on me in the crooked bathroom, by the people I don't know upstairs.

Satellite beams crossed, ringtones rang out of suitcases, and I felt the obsessive compulsive pebble in my pocket. There was another one in another pocket. I held two pebbles. Captain Kidd used to tell me, if you make a mistake, do it again. It sounded like the right thing to do. I could see Batha shimmering somewhere ahead. With a friend. Beside a truck. What could I do? Make friendly shallow talk. Never more than friendly. Sometimes more than crazy.

Jadira, I know you're not hollow. I just have a tin ear. I like to think of myself as a genetic defect. That's how evolution works, they tell me. I'm one of the mutations, but I serve no function. I'm a byproduct of the process that will result in perfect people somewhere down the line, or people pebble polyalloys. That I could see. I do see it sometimes. Sometimes I see you, sometimes I even hear you.

I have my lucky pebble in my hand. But I'm getting sleepy, I'm going to drop it. I want to see one of you again, even if that's all it is. A hollow ring. Strewn talismen and women. I'm patient in the void.

pretend i have children

pretend i don’t require drugs for subject matter


orgasm before children
that is my firm belief
orgasm after children
that is open to question


pretend i was never born

pretend you weren’t either


pretend i have children
see where that takes you
if you takes notes on that
i’ll pretend to see them

gratuitous grace

a shout out to my parents – and my sister - i hope they don’t read this blog:
you are so sweet and pure – it was a long while before i realized how rare that is – i’ve always had such support, a kind of support i can’t put into words – you deserve more than a fucked up tweaker


wise move huh? go and get addicted to K - wear some trendy hippie headgear - do so much of it that paranormal perception lingers - worry about brain aneurysms and chronic depletion of dopamine and infection and cancer - dare i even say the word - i'm getting superstitious - i don't know what luck is, where it is, if it exists


i gotta say, i understand what people were saying before, advice and warnings i shrugged off, paid lip service to at best, sacrificed at the altar of self-delusion -- i still find temperance and moral fiber in bad taste, not cool, not stylish - and that's a problem, cause i'm a sick fuck


- i guess this youth rebel stuff is getting stale - but what to do?

anyway, i'm sorry for being a wastoid - i'm starting to understand, a little more, what it looks like from outside -- when i actually get around to working the actual steps of the program, i'll make sure to make amends, where to do so would not cause harm in and of itself, to paraphrase step six, if my swiss cheese short term memory serves


36 hours of nonstop info-stream from the metaverse - K is the VR drug - from what i remember, it's fun, but i don't remember anything - but sometimes it's fun not to remember things - or is it? i don't remember - but i had fun, as i remember, but i'd have to take a memory's word for it, because this current slice of spaced time is not feeling groovy - not really, nosir


K is brilliantly mind expanding and ruthlessly mind contracting - it grants me periscopes to telepathic portals between multiverse covergences, or something to that effect, your mileage may vary, mine might as well, don't be stupid and buy eightballs every week and use it as multi-purpose mind-dust -- but you probably will just to spite me - and if so, you'd be following in my footsteps - and when i was in the good end of the cycle, a little drop of awareness in an anti-personal network of cosmic cause, i'd say it's so worth it, which is easy to say when time means nothing


energy flows out of something that once seemed an orifice for eating and trash talking - on the other end, on the other hand, in that murky film that was celluloid running my muscles in still frames, i'm a retard, hoisted on my own petard, k-tard, communicating to neo-satient creatures coverging with kinetic consciousness but unable to say anything meaningful, but that's not the point, it's texture, i'm a splatter on the ground, a mud puddle, like you, we're texture, we coat the contours, it's a simile for a life well and truly dyed

texture, like that cartoon that won't stop playing in my head, the surreal multi-media semi-synesthetic flanged framed pastiche of local and nonlocal data stream, that every so often in some absurd cycle shows me exhibitions of dream geographies, of a place dreamed in one dream that connected architecturally, literally and figuratively, with a place dreamed in another seemingly unrelated dream, sinews on substrate, blood brothers from back in the old days, before amnesia


i'm sick and suffering - it could be worse - but i'm sick and suffering - and i deserve to be sick and suffer - but i hope there's some redemption somewhere -- there are good people around me - i can't say that life dealt me a bad hand - but something in me wants to self-sabotage

can't sleep, what's it been now, forty hours? lungs infected, sinuses congested, feel contaminated, rotten to the core, something to be quarantined, cough cough... fugue state - it's a rolling rollicking fugue state, it's a mad merciless forte fugue, firing on all cylinders, atonal counterpoint, except in a certain multiverse cross-index, so to speak

simple jack

they come, and they go
things continue to bounce
bleeeeeeeeeeeeed, memories, dreams

sick sickly sick sickly sick
scanning
putting off writing what i really want to say

which is
i'm a sick fuck
and i don't like it right now
as i've said so many many many times

but it's a niche, birch, in march it will perch on another angle, emblossen, take charge

i don't know where i am anymore - i dunno who i'm supposed to be - my character is off model in every frame

drinking water
water drinking


treatment center? sounds good - are there fragments of selves i want to recover? maybe - i'm not sure - the ones that loved, and got left? bitterness -

well, health is wealth, they say

i wish i could kill my desire to take intoxicants
i wish i could do that
it doesn't have to be like this

well, another shake, maybe a rattle
and an afternoon nap, i take

new hole

new hole, oh, it's the yuuuuuuuuuuulllllllllllllllleeeeeeeeee hole or something like that, like back when letters mattered, i'm sorry, softenened to the point of uselessnessnesss ness ess but really? you think? sof

sof tended?

tend? cause what else is there to do?

christ on a krutch

what do you do when you're the rag time jump up pin up pogo savior, why do you think that in the first place? it's creepy blogger context, cause, well, how about this,,,
curt,,,,
and,,,,


well,,,,

yeah,,,,,


oh billy, he's a good oh ayuh huffa yallalalastictle errorinstansmintrickles, and & why? well, why not? no editor, so like, yeah, whatever, ragtime style, like really really really really really really fucking scary

but whatever butt what ever like but for fuck's SAKE ugh whistle PENNY plumber sewer sopping wet teen pussy, yeah, that's about r i g h t

okay

daday

dadagh


gfgssdnusp8g8iurq/'

s
rw f'yj

ftyb3q4



df

one of those

and the one who is coming right behind you

how do you like that?

i don't like it either - but it's okay - it's something to complain about

it's good to have something to complain about - the production is top-notch, no complaints there

kate kate

KATE, that's all i can say, or how about

kate? tori? other names i could name could open up a can of, woah, who cares when the production is so good? seriously -- or rather, or

you can make it, if you try

even when you're sleeping

no body is hurt


good well then then worth a click



trans


i wish you could see



yeah yep yah, yu ayuh, alright sir, indeeedeee then, and just another

would you save one for later

i've heard this riff before
the holocaust becomes familiar, there's a pattern for how the fake
holoccausts whilst appreciating tone and advantage and it will appreciate
because it is an investment, and saying nothing counts
for everything so say i==i=i=i=i===i

it works for you it works for me it works its plumbing, yeah
like i said before all those times, there's a thread a deja
thread, that doesn't sound all that meaningful anymore, just mildly
and moldy
interesting
and how many neuroses attached, barancles, anchors, hello - hey

counting the toll, counting the toll
it's not ecstasy, that's for damn sure
goldeylox stagger and
it's so easy easy when everybody's tryin to please me baby
and i don't want to live in slash riffs
and i don't want to live in axl's whine
but the squeaky wheel gets the grease, until chinese democracy

the chinks don't understand pianos
their plumbing flows on spiritual planes, qwik-drie anti-freeze and such

well, cause it's ready made for debauch
i'll make things wiggle as much as i can
but it's time to die and be reborn, wish i knew how
wish i knew my way thru, trance is trance is
trance, is it strong enough for you, asshole? bong! bing!

ninr!
ijdsfjkl

likjjlk

fglkj

fg;kl

and so forth
well then

yeah

it's the new OCD

new habits for a new age

new holes to pick, new nails to chew
new skin to scratch till it bleeds

revel ling in sick ness
homage to constanza grazioso

and gratuitous grace

once imagined i was rebelling in health

immune to the system of darwinian selection

revel ling in sick ness
at one with the germs, just
one of the germs, justice

revelation
in being sick
and still able to type
still typing and sick
and fryin mah brayne like'n egg on uh stove
and still able to type
working three days a week
missing every second band practice
but showing up to all the gigs
and still typing
things better left unsaid

they said that's better, those things
if they were unsaid, they know better than me, them

yeah, it's better, for everyone
not just me, not just them, everyone
i know they're right, they smell right
and true, i can smell truth, it's a scent
wafting from my fingertips, i compulsively
smell truth, and tell truth, i compulsively
tell and smell truth, i compulsively
sleuth out the smell of truth to tell the truth
and my fingertips spell proof to tell the truth
and it's the new OCD as i see it
being offered in the pharmacy
spelled out for all to see, labeled, FDA-approved
kid tested, pressure-grooved, it's the new OCD
and it's right as rain, it's true blue
it hit the main vein, stayed true to the cause
and par for the course, remained trained

and the remainder filled the shelves of your dreams
to overflow, the porno-compartments littered with excess gesture
to tell the truth, compulsively, in the slimiest rhymiest way possible
to the point where truth is a contract, contracted to a germ, buried
in legal jargon

revel but don't revel in it
not actively, passively maybe

and OD on OCD

can't bare the pretense

to brag
about being sober for six seconds

and it isn't even true, anyway

cursor |}

this is the way , a way?; hey

just just ice and only

try yong to fyrgryryaireeeeee - well, anyweez

i'll take all the blame - this flamin minivilanchivivilinichininicano and


frak frak frak frak frak aqua seafoamshame

severe tone

i drive better when i'm drunk
look out you panicky queers with clipboards
next time i'm on the road, i'm gonna be liquored up and opiated
i've found that to be the ideal combo
to steady my nerves

you want it smoother, do you?
"it's like playing a musical instrument"
thank you, prof
is it now?
buddy, if i sucked playing piano as much
as i suck at driving after eight years, i'd quit
i'm a fool, yes, but i don't persist in my folly
not that long, yo

you want it smoother?
rub some johnson's baby oil on your tender bottom

crazy crazy eddie

his prices were insane
undercut nearly everybody

then he woke up one day without a body

crazy crazy eddie
went on, anyway

he couldn't imagine her
he couldn't imagine them
he could imagine some through the vein

BORED / UNCREATIVE / UNEMOTIONAL / NUMB


dreams are a refuge, even when they're nightmares


tomorrow will be a big day
of nested self-destructive cells running
increasingly crazy routines
on zany rusty razor tips


any bit of information is as good as another
any pattern is as good as another


subways through the sublobes of sublightenment


light, enlightenment is light
that's all it is, light at the end of a subway tunnel


BORED / UNCREATIVE / UNEMOTIONAL / NUMB


high times magazine figured out who shot MLK


slowed down, dizzy enough, a little sick


--
--


i'm sorry sir, we can't give out that information

well, kyle's mom's a bitch, she's a bit fat bitch, she's the

- well, i have no patience for impatience tonight - conflict seems unreasonable and irresolvable - one day i will be mad again, like i was yesterday

and when you lose your charm, your words do too

i'm spending my karma on food stamps

i survived

and saturn retains his status, for another billion years, and

i survived
i still have my skin, and some muddled feelings within
feelings that feel dry, like this dibet in the cycle, the fecal matter
has decayed, not that that matters, nudge, and the energy coming down the pike
will make fecal regal for fuck'nArights, but you can't copy it, and you won't, cause i'll oversee all processes

and since this is a chemical dump, i will say
it's been a long time since cannabinol hit my brain, one of those walks in the jungle to catch a patch of desert, it's dry and i'm high, but i try
with every fiber to sanitize death, and anaesthetize plain treasures

and relapse is ridiculous, and sobriety is stupid
and saturn reigns, retains, remains, relays, with rings

this will be another dramamine night
it's actually diphenhydramine, which sounds more like delirium
and appropriately more like dirty sleep, illicit and unconscious
but not un enough to cleanse the soul, no, there's things that stick
above the cellular level

this wasn't a night for needles, and it's already in the past tense
drink the tapwater, it is pure and it is good
and i will re iterate, it is good and it is pure
washing down a sleeping pill

self-analytical torpor
an external analyzer said
and while i could pretend it's about someone else
- a chosen one, to throw the rest of you into relief
or the select of you, those i choose, but pretend you never knew me -
i would be throwing my voice
and i'd rather choke on the here and now
cause that's all i know now, as far as
i’ve knit, if i knew that which i didn’t
only flava, ah, aah? aaaaah? nah
flavour, i'll surmise in supposition

hey, it's like those old wet times when i thought i was king of the world
a cock in a pussy
taste, flava, flow
and an orgasm on my own time
i let a few cool folks know
and some folks that shouldn't know

and then there are those who left me in the front room of a latimer street house
in a home hardware bag
yeah, bagged, i'm bagged, it's true
that person is bagged

tucson

this morning she woke up in tucson - she doesn't think she drove - her profile was limited, still - there were still limits - it was a mexican decor - not a real one, but a semblance, enough to call itself that

her pockets were heavy, that's probably why her back ached, as well as various ligaments and hamstrings - she checked her pockets, and they were stuffed with gold bricks - she knew enough not to bother trying to figure out where the gold was from - she only knew where it was going - to the pawn shop

yes, that's what you do with gold, isn't it?

her childhood friend works for intel, still, as i write this, and i'm not shitting you - he's soon to lose his job, because AMD is kicking intel's ass, it's the circle of life, it's rome and the visigoths, there's nothing you can do, just get out while the getting's good

her childhood friend could probably make use of the gold, better use than traders and financiers - if you're into that sort of thing - if you're a circuit breaker - a noble calling, the noblest - it will save us in the end, just you wait - history is a race between intelligence and catastrophe - a sack race, if i remember correctly - or a bag race, one of those, i'm positive - or that race where you and a buddy (or for the purposes of this hypothesis, let's say, a buddy) balance a balloon between your respective torsos and shuffle between two rally points, the objective being to end your course ahead of your opponents - yes, that's what history is - it's also a nightmare from which we can't awake - which is a pessimistic outlook, but accurate to nine decimal points - which isn't saying a lot really - and that isn't false modesty - it's quite true

this morning she woke up in tucson - this afternoon she's still there - on her left is a waffle maison - on her right is the international house of pancakes - below her is a fiber optic cable - under that is a sewer line - above her is a con-trail like a drop of blood in a syringe - it's a good sign - a sign that they've hit the vein - it means the afternoon is off to a good start and the night might just be saved - there's gold bricks in her pocket - there's a pawn shop beyond the Sonic Drive-In

"we buy diamonds - we sell diamonds"

she has no diamonds - what about gold? they'd better buy gold - everything hinges on that