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May 19, 2005
May 18, 2005
Pigment Ink For Mr. Drama-Pants.
Big-scaled!
(Very raw.)
Steamed off of Bollywood and the forward-thoughts of globe-loving all-nights of acid-house.
May 17, 2005
. . .
Bi-Metal Elm Relish, Page 179 + 180.
"That is the part of the story that is so unbelievable that I don't believe it."
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.
May 11, 2005
. . .
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.
May 10, 2005
. . .
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.
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.