May 19, 2005

. . .

Posted by dean at 10:30 PM

May 18, 2005

Pigment Ink For Mr. Drama-Pants.


(Very raw.)

Steamed off of Bollywood and the forward-thoughts of globe-loving all-nights of acid-house.

Posted by dean at 04:58 PM

May 17, 2005

. . .


Posted by dean at 11:27 PM

Bi-Metal Elm Relish, Page 179 + 180.

"That is the part of the story that is so unbelievable that I don't believe it."

Posted by dean at 05:59 PM

May 16, 2005

I Was Nervous Being Pulled Out By Old Men And Student Girls With Unbearably Red T-Shirts.

Words against words (against words).

This is graphic prophecy.

A gibberish of peace.

Posted by dean at 08:05 PM

May 11, 2005

. . .

Posted by dean at 09:38 PM

Bi-Metal Elm Relish, Page 149.

When you are trying to figure out a difficult problem -- such as the problem of trying to get your brother unhypnotized so as not to be placed into the hands of a greedy man disguised as a receptionist -- it is often helpful to discuss the problem with other people in order to come up with a quick and useful solution.

Posted by dean at 03:54 PM

May 10, 2005

. . .

Posted by dean at 07:35 PM

May 09, 2005

"It's Not Me," He Said.

A whistle out of his neck.

"It's not me," he said.

The top of his head, wrong-warped records.

"It's not me," he said.

Tubs of sores cratered the back of his hands.

"It's not me," he said, pulling out the mayor's itinerary.

Posted by dean at 10:40 PM

May 08, 2005

Bi-Metal Elm Relish, Page 15 + 16.

I once loved a woman, who for various reasons could not marry me. If she had simply told me in person, I would have been very sad, of course, but eventually it might have passed. However, she chose instead to write a two-hundred-page book, explaining every single detail of the bad news at great length, and instead my sadness has been of impossible depth.

Posted by dean at 06:50 PM