Stadium Jail

remember mind expansion? it's good to have a revolution every 2nd generation or so, so said a guy with clout, even today, so say i, gripping handrails of bridges so dry, moistening tinderwood with sweaty handsss, annnnn... cut off, etherize in the figurative sense, saw, operative, vaguely anesthetized, thinking back to times of playing music in bands, strange raisonettes, gray stubble, shambles dreams, still? like, still?

think whatever y'all wants, things can be arranged one way or t'other, connotation can be ceded to colloquial concerns - ask me about my discount specials - i could seek out new life and new civilizations - i could spelunk new caves, adapt to newer and blacker shades of darkness, yeah - just close your eyes, any of you who be implicated, it's a mere phosphene, and i know that can form beautiful patterns behind your eyes, and sometimes quite hideous at other times, but it's just me being a busy energizer bunny, still with enough money to be somewhere else, but thinking, maybe the wound's got to be cauterized first, at least a cursory perfunctory cauterization before surgery, before i split - it's not so crazy i still have a little bit of money, what was the report last time? what did the receipt say, when i said about what i have in the bank, the blood bank, it's so circulatory, and iodine is not exactly an analgesic - are impulses unambiguously wrong all the time? they did get me into this, maybe they can get me out of it - they used to have pulses in them, but impulses made them strong

at least there's a little more absurdity this time around the spin, a little more inertia towards escape velocity, a little bit of removal from the first time tragedy second time farce - not really, just words, but comforting to spin them into spain'll, the next two towns'll over - you'd almost think i had sucrets somewhere, it's almost as if that's the case'll

you should see me on k, i'm serious about hilarity, then, belying all seriousness to begin with - well, there's a certain sweet spot in that vicinity anyway - amazing how attitudes can be flipped so quick in the wee hours of the night, a snowball that started with mouse-clicking...

Just to prove I can, heh, change case manually, like the old timey folks used to do, with their wooden cranks of case-changing mahogany machinery.

impulses could get me across two or three state bounds, and that might be worth it - nay, will be worth it, once it's minted, and banked

yeah, things are charged, in this high stakes game of magnanimous charades, and although i'm involved in an ungentlemanly disagreement with a lady, i do wish everyone well, and no hard feelings, and this isn't a fair use of fair game, it ain't no use at all, nor abuse, it's simply writing thoughts that are put into a web box that i prettied up nicely for myself and a quiet hiss of distant overpass traffic - it'll be better

guilt was never a good motivator, and i will stop rebelling against non-comformity by conforming, and rather rebel, as instructed, and answer to thine own self in a certain farcical way that falls short of the pithy ideal, and grab my only friend in the world now that drugs and smut are gone, still gone, always gone, eternally empty from here on out, and find a guilt-free rush in moving digital data around in such a way as to give me a pleasantly vapourous purpose in life, such it may be, yeah, this may be living, something like it, i'll call it

there's no volumes that need be written about all the things i may or may not be responsible for, all the things implied and implode and heads a 'sploded, and 'splosions hurting in theory... cause it's immaterial, it seems like it ought not to be immaterial, it should be ground we can stand on, in fact, are standing on if memory serves, but it doesn't serve like you think it does, not both masters anyway, and it isn't ground, or it ain't ground, and it can just be overlooked and shrugged off, or sloughed off the smoking pantlegs of the spaceman with the cleansed computer - oh, it's cleansed, it's got that new spaceship smell, and it will probably retain that luster for a while

well, the intent is getting buried, which is as it should be, i'd think - it would be good if i forgot what i meant, if i did - i doubt that will happen though - but it's getting confusing which is good, a lot of metaphors, and decay, and marcato strings in a flurry - and that's okay - shaky, but okay - it can shake and drag the lake, and shake, there hasn't been enough of that, shakes build character, the kind of character that survives for sixty-four sammy davis junior years

i dunno what else to say about all this fucked up ridiculousness, what can i add to that definitive statement???          maybe it's good there's nothing much else to say except to pull out hair, and gnash teeth, and rehash overblown arguments and justifications - cause that means, forget saying things, and feeling so much strain that saying this or that is never quite enough, time to just do stuff, like what was gonna happen anyway, and feel oh so horrible, but at least move toward something else, whatever it may be, the unknown, you know? i feel like i already know, to a nauseating degree, how the same old shit in this vicinity is gonna go - lapsing into madness of the kind that is mad in the way i first learned to use the word, as in, fuck this makes me mad,  insult and injury that i perceive i'm receiving - surely the product of my soft neurotic mind, blighted, and in need of a rest from this supposedly real shit, no, i need some illusion to live, perhaps, or at least, i want more things on my terms - more my-term type things, which i have an entrepreneurial scheme to engender - yeah, that's about the size of it, really - a plastercast

hey, i might even put up a front, and say everything's fine when it isn't! imagine... there's no talking... about things - just asides - a sequence of asides, like a meandering tone row in a particularly stoic section of sorabji's opus clavicalemballisticum - many noted historians have noted that many notable historical figures have bottled up more over less - cause it's about time for that spoke in the wheel to come back, at least the front spoke, if not the rut that wheel was in at the time - but there can still be a front for a new theatre - grease paint - i can contrive a story and stick with it, but only if asked, it's not like i'm trying to share anything, or care, or show n tell, or give him or her the scoop on anything - there's no story, just some tabloid headlines, you're supposed to see through it to a 404 error - oh god, give me 1 sammy year, get me outa here, soap choked hope, music 91! there will be no debriefing, no counseling session, no volleys of phone calls to friends and loved ones and nodes in the support network - i love you network, but i'm too entangled, i just gotta brush myself off for a second, and retune my good ol buddy, my gitar