Had a tooth pulled out. Deception. He incorrectly used the words "admonish," "vaunted," and "parity." She licks her lips with the point of her tongue, not the other part. She fetishized the body in a number of ways. The performances are interchangeable because all the characters are duplicitous. He went around the world three times in the 1700s. Imagine that. "Imagine that" is a command. The subject of the sentence - You - is in there. I was detected eating pork. A poor pork was attached to the commodore. Attached by whom? Who ate what? Why now. The least you could do is accomodate the commodore with a fine piece of pork. My method of losing interest has everything to do with razing expectations. All of the inhabitants of the barn had pock marked faces. Crater faces. I failed, then made sail. Became a fool, then made sail. Stuttered, then made sail. An otter cloak. Who cares.

He was killed, had a hemmorhage, made an apology, then left. They made sail in an open boat. The horror of consolation. A pistol, a knife, and so on. The men from LIFE huddled in a men's dormatory in Syracuse. He drowned himself. He cut himself when he worked on a cadaver. His cut became infected, he died, and became a cadaver. Small children, employment, powerful/fermented/spirited liquors. Make it thicker. You make it thicker.

A street scene, shortly before a gunfight. Dogswater all over the place. Yikes
We paused long enough to become guests. Then we razed the place. I was never outdone in marksmanship, but, my friend, Hency, he asked me, "You heard of Joony? He already shot through your hands when you were praying."
Let's become friends again. Let's swallow a volley of shots. The wound was disturbingly slow, and my hands hurt again. He was abrasive and aggressive but jubilant in victory. Caw!

A number of abstractions. It was heartbreaking. No, it was heartbraking. Today, at an auction, I sold a glove, a ship's bell, large bronze dogs, and a Rolls Royce. The Rolls went for 7,500$. Inside the bronze dogs: vocabulary. I give the ill persons my conditions. It is true that, because of inborn reactions, my generalizations are invalid. The invalid in the snowbank. You are invalid. You are an invalid. No physician is animalistic. Welcom to being invalid. She told me I am invalid, and I am. The man's gold coins go through the cracks in the floor, and I collect them in the basement. But the gold coins are painted on the floor! I watched Midnight Cowboy today. All of my reactions established positive. It seems my mechanism is made of skin and marijuana? These opinions involve, by necessity, human mechanisms. The drive-in has a hobbyhorse in front of it and stormclouds on top.

I was interested in the two neighbors, but, now, presently, I am not. I am a human, and I am complex. As a whole, she was desired. She found sign language useful because she was deaf. No, she was dead. No, she was Deaf and on Martha's Vineyard with all her friends. We did not go over the subject of exes. For me, no one named "tony." No one in pink. No one with a moustache. Downstairs, they make paintings, dresses, and stained glass. The dress has stained glass breasts and the back is painted. The painting is of hybrid creatures painting. My immediate character is stroppy. My immediate character is concrete and conscious. Are you in a serious relationship? I am. Well, life is about serious relationships and making out with a parking brake in between you. My heartbrake. My heartbreak. There is nothing wrong with you, but I do not want to be with you for biological reasons. It is all bio. My bio? My "feeling"? My "idea"? In this abstracting, sopshisticate. He was not sophisticated because he got really excited about an old Mustang car. I was sophisticated because I knew how to appreciate architecture. At least the dog was licking my hand. In 1933, there was a case of an imbecile. He claimed to have developed a paradoxical phrase, but he didn't. Only cultivated persons use vivid images. She defined my structure mathematically. She had mushrooms and pineapple on her pizza. In front of her friends, I told her that my grandpa eats salvage mushrooms and fresh pineapple. He eats these things one at a time. Like Arthur Murray. Do you know who Arthur Murray is, I asked her in front of all her friends. He developed dance secrets. My grandpa would make my grandma put a sheet on the couch before she sat down. He claimed she left an odor, but she didn't. The bad smell was his invention 00 his abuse. Now, grandpa can't talk anymore. They strap him into a chair. The straps are white leather and have rainbows on them. He wanted me to paint him kittens and an ark and all the kittens were supposed to be in the ark. What about the two and two? No, just kittens. She was feeling kittenish. SO WHAT>>>THIS. IS. THE. END. OF. IT>>> I allowed a one-to-one adjustment, but did she care? No, she don't. Her structure was empirical and granted me no flexibility. But then I made comparisons in this world and blew her and all her friends away. Arthur Murray had twin girls, but he forbade them to dance with each other.

Approach the absolute dead in Stagira, Greece. Please. In front of a collection of indivs, I proved I had a problem with insanity. When the insane,
As she lay dying,
When I fell,
My infinite divisibilty, shown for ten years. Impressed. Vested. Ideally, there is a happy future after death. Death wears a tshirt that has skulls on it. We sit on the hill and drink milk and eat wild strawberries. The difference between sanity and insanity. Between you and me, you and I. We drink and you sing, eh? My savage inheritance is that I can recog the smell of burning teeth.

The end explodes. Narcissistic. Social. Progression. The organ erotic 0 over seven years. When he was insane 0 he valued nothing but the expression of his narcissistic social progression. Archaic. Autoerotic. Nutritive. eye-ear contact. Just get close to my ear, please. Kiss my ear. Unsanity, insanity, sanity, exsanity, presanity. Should have done better in differential calculus. He hair was dark, intermittantly. NOW AND THEN ONE - archaic, erotic. Disillusioned, he refused to behave for the LIFE photogs. They gave him whiskey. He dreamed of killing his children, poor man. Pal. Narcissistic in the extreme. Yes, he was sleek. An elegant man. Well-dressed, whatever that means. Troubled by insomnia. He loved violent car rides. I am looking for a violent car ride. Oblige? Oblate. Her eyes were oblate like euc leaves. It was my worst possible "terribly impressed." Horribly impressed. Ready to dance? Old it up on the big stage - in front of all the regulars. The college youth exasperated Mark Van Doren. Van Doren does not deign to eat a Pastrami sandwhich.
Mr. Pastrami, what is the name of the next number?
Number One.
quills pills will pain
colossal fame
My lasting consolation is in some other kind of situation. Made me mad. I put on my checked pants and crawled into a large, barnlike structure. The atmosphere - literal, not fig - was diff in there, though. Six feet, his pistols at half cock, spurred by the laughter of girls, he restored me to my ancestors. She had a passion for male clothiers. The people killed before morning were swept into Kansas. By whom? By Sevens and Eights. We friends, ain't we.
Ain't we?
He took a rifle from their bodies. He took dead ponies from their bodies. They were killed in two weeks.
He suggested all his daughters learn shorthand. Wore a wig. Kept candles in his socks. A little sugar heat? Veet. This has all accrued. Contribute? Vute. He went to one of the leading schools and learned about the nutritive powers of candles and honey, ponies and rifles. They gradually washed dozens of machines for the matriarch of the dowagers. The y shaped stick. Bantered on in the best of his books. "Please transfer this to my account of posterity." The spirit of the age: a sore throat.
It's not fair that the summit elevates. Reduction interrupted. I bow my slimy head. Unwelcome, destroyed and eaten, I ask for a second date. Frottage in the front seats, the parking brake in the way. For fun, let's eat flies and see who dies. They inebriated each other with zeal on just the second date. They both wore new clothes. They tasted the rot in each other's teeth. What? Temerity/ Here in the garden? Bury it with the carbon. He told the most fascinating story about mental derangement. I drew blood with a hug

Nocturne in Black and Gold: The Falling Rocket. To fling paint in your face and ask for money. A nocturne - a painting of the night. A screaming comes across the sky. It has happened before but there is nothing to compare it to now. It is too late. There are no lights inside the cars - no light anywhere. Above him lift girders old as an iron queen... The painting is in Detroit. Tiorted. The painting has been Distiorted. There are no lights inside the cars. No street lights. No light anywhere. A nocturne in Detroit. A nocturne in Detroit. The painting of the night, a night scene. Well, why is Finnegans Wake so confusing?
Doesn't a lot of it happen at night?
Isn't the night confusing?
It is dark - no sight.
A nocturne is confusing, unless a falling rocket lights.

Oblate. Shoal. Counterpostal. Nabokov between two mountains. The balloon contained an unusual gas. The man who dropped off the hospital bed smelled like weed. The drain is in the concrete. The drain is in the woman. She gave herself a trephine for spiritual reasons. The point is to root out the pseudoscience with the vaunted time of framing with michaelmas. However. She guilded all the wood she found - a real problem. Some people get into the Guinness World Book of Records because they have real problems. The man who had to stand for so long because he was a prisoner or war. The woman who swallowed so many pins because she was a compulsive swallower. One of the Marx bros developed the clamps that held the atom bomb in place. The Tybee bomb at the bottom of the sea. My childhood was punctuated by red, and I feared the riders would come out of the waves, the sea. Father threatened to kill himself right by my open window. The cloth curtains went in and out like a graceful. Like a full. He threatened to swim out forever and die before he shot himself. Then, mother married the man on the grounds. Every day at college, I wrote her a letter. Harold Humes, Harry Humes, H. Louis Humes and Paul Auster go on the street with 5,000 dollars in 50$ bills. They believe, if they pass it out quickly, some kind of econ system will excite and collapse. An invisible hand. The man takes a metal comb and hits it across his knuckles. Next, he makes fists and wheels them around and around in a white room. Blood dots get on all the walls and the ceiling. Over time, they become brown. Because it was so cold our sweat - from sex - froze on the roof of the van. In the morning, when it got warm, our sweat dripped down on us. Her acute nakedness, supple majesty. Inkling. He actually believed in white mice soaked in champagne. Ruined with a cleaver - like the ole ones. Arrogant, shocked, impressed by pungencies.

Get ready to resolve the ends of all your characters. For once, death comes with terrible excitement. Vent. Bent. My famous friend. In the tropical city, unexplainably, they are all preoccupied with grammar. The big bonfire is in the hill, not on the hill, lit by the kill.
He hit his horse on the head with a waxed branch. Why? Discord. Syntax. We stabbed the horses with white pickets. Made them a fence.
All hackles raised. Many experiments
She is quasi-normal, but I still haven't discovered the purpose of having a one-of-a-kind dress. She took the trouble to destroy what I noticed. Every sentence, a Known-New contract I make with an audiece. The audience stands on the roofbeams. The story is meant to blow them off into the ocean. It's painful to see how faulty all this is. It's hard to see why I put so much energy into learning sign language. The ink dries in the glass. Now, I can't use it. I obtain the impression of her delicate feet, three. Her toes do not curl when vaunted. Her violent misuse of the dress. Repetition is what I thereby sacrificed. Fyce. Howlings. Billows. The spithead. She is a spithead, one I don't want to see again. The last of which: dressed. The former: deceased. The second to last: surveyed three times, hopefully.

The anglers, again, caught nothing but sand dabs.

The old pronunciation was hard. Kevan Barlow is out. He went to Pitt. My cousin and her experimental kidney operations>>>Pitt. She had a lucky belly when it was full of fluid. Peritoneal dialysis>>>she drains into the sink and the cat drinks the fluid. SO it was hard. The gentle art. The gentle are not. The gentle art has everything to do with fishing. The gentle art of making enemies. They say we are fished for, from the heavens.
smell
border
sweat
tipsy
ladydog
Actors probably did. I just described two plots - both very clean of ink. The magicians collect at Houdini's grave for the broken wand ceremony. On this day, Charlie Chaplin died. Leta Gray turned his hair white. Again, my finger pressed to the paper. When I remove my finger, a red dot. I press my finger to her stomach. When I pull my finger away, again, a red dot. A red dot on paper and a red dot on skin. Where is the parallelism? She submitted to rough usuage. By whom? My father ate 8 kinds of fresh seafood in Hong Kong. The lights were in time to the fire and the music. Today, he plays his girlfriend basketball. They speak about me. She is very clean. The heaviest pressure will not spoil. A crown roast.
Chapter 8: Persistance
Of the 599 cases, 56 secured positions good. The who killed her father woman. The woman who killed her father. The who laughed woman. The woman who laughed. It was fun. Will he really pay me thousands to type pornography? The creases in her palm - everyone has me inside. Blue color. Very thin. If we take her off a number of her pharmax, will her quality of life improve? Considerable collections of sexual selections.
First, on the paper, we traced a surgeon. Next, a priest. Finally, three fish. We sent the sheet to Spain - some place where the soil smells like nice underarms. These islands. The onset of diabetes at a young age. A shunt. Your ankle is broken, but you can put as much weight as you want on it. This. Is. My. Scotch. I could not please them all. I could not feed the animal I wanted to take care of. I felt the spray in my seats. I saw my reflection in a tuba. The sax was invented in Belgium. I speak with the Belgian about Black Peter, about Spain. Capt. Honesty stole the public mules because his father, who was Protestant, fell in the beach. Beach? Mourned before death - came from a rare family. I shot at every glass ball I ever saw. The main goal of my life is to die a sham death. I would like to live on one of those islands in the Atlantic. When I see a glass ball, I shoot it. My father knew something stunk when I agreed to shoot clay pigeons with him. I was a very good shot. We practiced shooting in the mountains, during the baby shower.
Both of Lon Chaney's parents were deaf. When Jekyll becomes Hyde, he becomes smaller in stature - not larger. This makes sense because anything bad is compressed. Jealous of my success? Shot my pistols close to my legs.
This drama is named after me. I should have avoided impiety. As a result, none of my companions survived. Her pubic hair remains blond. Avec une femme. Phoque. The gentle art - angling for enemies, fishing for men. They say we are fished for, from the celestial sea. We found the sleeping giant and put a hot empty cauldron on his head. No more, we run for the woods. While whistling. The effect of having peculiar characters. Disgusting. Demeaning. Agressive. Let me be unambiguous. I do not want to be photgraphed. Who is Thomas Pynchon? And why did he run off with my wife? Farina died on a motorcycle. At 76, he has a girlfriend. He got cold on his birthday, and she tried to warm him. The duplicities of all the women I have ever met. My inability to appreciate anyone properly. But I appreciate me. I indict my imagination. As I slept, she thrust a needle through my eyelid and into my eye. I opened my other eye, and, rather than asking for deliverance, I improvised.

The holiday talk this year is of the procurement of weapons - .44s for pillowtalk. Surge over surge, vast shoals over my head. Give me a hole, and I will yell in it for at least ten minutes. Ten used to be the time for meditation, but now it's the time for yelling. A whole tub of cashews - I come bearing gifts. The Cashew Man's package looked like a crabapple with a doll head screwed onto it. He would take off his lawyer's suit before he changed on the handball court. A tanker goes by, silently. Down my head goes. My head goes down.
My spontaneous birth
my suck at sap
my verse, my banter - I was 16 and 16 inches tall. What goes on in the Stadium Inane? Well, blood changes color - goes from red to green. Holes dig hundreds of holes. Beilby Porteus with his hot helmet on. Red silk stuffed in his mouth. He spat out red silk in the Stadium Inane. We had bad seats, so we thought it was blood. The hot helmet on. I buy a hot helmet from a vendor. I would like to have a private conversation, so I put a silent helmet on. I talk on my phone in the silent helmet. I was lucky in that I lived in the 1700s. But I was fidgety. Whooda Thought.
Whooda Thought. Let the wooden box receive the boat. Let the wooden box receive Whooda Thought, the guy off on the long trip. Let the wooden box accept me. We never got to discuss the problem of the exes. How can I speak with you if I just got out of an intense relationship? If he lives literally next door to you? "Literally,"" I ask before I make a tone with my head. I build a box to receive you. I preferred the boat. I have entered a serious relationship. That's what's say. I have entered a box, I say. I just finished up an intense relationship with a hunk of bunk. I once wrote about a boy named Bunkadunk. He taught a monkey to type on a typewriter, and the creature wrote stuff that predicted the future. This story is the greatest of all my watery inventions. My watery writings. It is tawdry, though. I have grown to see my two week relationship with you as tawdry. I judge it tawdry. Tawdry is an objective complement. I heard her use an elliptical clause when she dumped me. An elliptical clause misses a subject and part of its verb.
I should have never feasted on a trifling obstacle. What a mistake! Here I am, with contact lenses, and not glass in my eye. He covered the page with xs and crosses. Why? Ov course. Ov course, it was my mistake.
Does not fight on a hilltop. Does not speak with others. Does not comply politely. They did not allow the curtain to rise

The two English words I most despise: In. Thicket.
I don't like "made his way" either. In thicket, he made his way to the bunker. Yuk.
In freelance, he gunked the bunker. Better.
In fullblown, he slipped to the bunker. Best.

He learned about motors, in the thicket. In thicket. In thicket, he learned about motors. The remarkable friendship between Billy, The Kid and I and me. It is I. It is a secret between you and me, you and I. Billy The Kid. Billy, The Kid. I learned about motors, in my dancer's tights, with the cord around my wrist, by the Tybee bomb. I teach grackles to say my name. They say my name at the top of the stainlesssteel slide. I was glad all at the top and I sang. The men from LIFE gave me whiskey. I waited for Arbus to take my picture but no click. No click. There is a cairn that marks where my body's dead. Very kindly between him and I, he and me. The affect in pshychiatry. Affect as a noun. Effect as a verb. Watch out. laylaidlaid. lielaylain. Get ready for sniffing her penitence, for sniffing pentene, for removing the palm of a monkey for a murder frame. Procedural stuff of cops. He killed the old fellow, even though they had been partners for two years. Killed. Lliked. He killed the fellow. He lliked the old fellow.

Please cry - in spite, in pain. Killed in a mixup - because of unreasonable demands. He was killed between you and me. Short, the last breath is. Taliaferro was the only one with some virtue. He picketed any game that required skill. Little red fires.
who was nonplussed
who was confused
who ate a reply. Twice!
whom we hate
whom they returned
which broke in two
that stinks
as I lay dying
when I observed her vaunted lineage
because I salted pork
since I'm afraid
kissing
retching
vaulting
renting
I peeped on the good musicians while the mob hunned outside. Vide.
The tallest man pulls the plastic out of the dolphins. What's in it for me.
Make a hole in the skin before pulling it back. She did not break her ankle from a fall. It. Just. Broke. The pharmax makes her sick. The tylenol three takes care of the throbbing pain but not the shooting pain. In Kuwait, a cloud over one person. Another. Just two hours a day, JP says. Like an undergrad, on a train, underwear - not his - in his pocket. Underwear found. Found where? Belonging to whom? From whom? It is I. It is she. I am he. I am she. I am it. The hanging gave me a jolt. Started me. Beside the charcoaled tank, a black spine burned into a question mark. The equipment makes me 300 pounds. He pretended he was drunk.
A father in China for the first time.
Your features are much sharpers.
I supplied her with dried beef.
My attitude became an exhibit in a museum of natural history.
She used the bird wing on my face. He laugh went six feet high before it crashed. For lunch, we had a college-bred youth.
A bullet can tell the coming a storm.
He was killed outright, sophisticated. Sophistassaulted. Made good his threat with all of his throat. The shoat? It dead.
It died a bit, it did.
Where are the descendents of Pat Garrett? Any of them shot and killed dead? Any born in New York city? Counterpostal, like Billy, The Kid. Billy, The Dead. Billy, The Boy With Canines Out. Billy, The Kid With Blue Eyes Flecked Gold. A tortilla pressed against his chest.

A singer imagines a ball in her mouth. No, she imagines a spinning slice of orange. It spins as she sings. The toddler has the correct posture to sing. He learns all the wrong things from his parents - now that he's old, he can't sing. The trick is not to make sense of the words - to hear the words. He wrote about a sad number of events. The last one took place in Florida. Peter Fonda goes back for his friend but gets shot in the face. Do you remember the way McQueen's green car ends? Do you remember how the wheels on that one side fold in? Could YOU write an entire book on Jos. Cornell? I already did.

I requested company but received deep sarcasm. Safe sex frottage, something like that. A new red sweater - a lot of little red linty balls got all over the place, what with all the safe sex frottage. But then it all became about mechanical dentistry. She had one of those velvet lined cases with metal instruments in there. I shoved mint between my legs - crushed it up - so now I smell good. Our opportunity to talk was the largest in the world, but I snubbed it. No more talking, pal. Hard on the land wears the strong sea and empty grows every bed. My bed is empty, pal. Plus, it's deflated. An Aerobed - deflates as I sleep. Dream about dogs on my arms. Bend their jaws back and break them. A cat has canines, too. Humans have canines, too. I am in depserate need of alien currency.

The aliens will not be aliens when they become our friends. They will be us. The untapped market of the aliens in the universe. I am not appreciated here... But out there?

A mass resignation from a bawdy place. That is what I see as I elapse. In her opinion, I elapsed. It took me 12 days, and now i am on break. Have a nice break! Those who go east. The guys in Easy Rider died because they went east. I have a roving disposition - largely due to my namesake. Because I want to protect her by can't. I make no public display of counting the drawer. Of roving. He did not get tenure because he shat on the director's porch. He praised my book too highly to the graduate students. He became mean when he drank. The photogs from LIFE gave me all that to drink. When I was young, the man at the door checked my identification. Now, he checks that I have money because I dress so shabbily. Hell publicly. My good behavior on public display - in a velvet case. Remembered as a killer but died of a dread disease. He was no killed. My life reads like Romance. The door is open, but he cannot see anything imcriminating in his line of sight. Parallax.

Ash-blond. Naivete.

Crying, post-streetfight, he receives excellent reviews. How appropriate!

Three horses cured for food. The kind of birds we wanted - we were in the glade. Stop rubbing up against my leg when I am like that. This is the one dress of its kind, and it is mine. I like it when you wear that dress because it is grey, black, and red. We must be nimble when we walk over the layers of her eggs. She wears a dress that hikes up. I cannot be helped. My cap tinged with orange - rub my pistol against my cap. I took the time to rub my pistol against my orange tinged hat. Now, you may rub against me.

At the end of a marathon, half out of his car, my father waits for his girlfriend. They will spend the holiday in China. I rapidly sorted the money, the thousands of dollars, my father sent me. I find something common to us both: hair.

Between babyhood and Hollywood, she found me - made me for the third time. At her core is a single digit - the third one on her right hand. It is white on the end, not pink. My standards are tedious, yes, but they are not fair. I was well-heated and kneaded. By whom? The dress is off and on the manakin again. The manacled manakin in the one-of-a-kind dress. Now she is in Hollywood and must be embarrassed she ever dealt with me. A trump overarches. A tower. A hanged man upside-down. The King of Cups. Sticks in the ground. Sticks over it. She made my stomach an inked slab.

Dummed paper. Gummed paper. Dr. Forgot writes my prescription very slowly. This might make you dizzy, and you must be sure to never eat grapefruit with it. I mix my soap suds with syrup and eat it with my medication. Soap suds and syrup - karo syrup. I am liable to crack because of my dummed paper and her dress. She has that dress, but I bought an identical one at the store. It was 65$, but now I have it and it's like I'm on a date. She is repulsed by me. I expire, again. Again, I expire. The first time with cocaine. Who would have thought a chef's nife... The chef's nife easily went through the leather jacket. Then, I got Salt Lake on me. Curious paper, curious writing. A train rushes by with my arm on it.

A greasy hand across glass. The greasy black banana in the Mr Grinch song. The 39-and-a-half-foot pole. She will not touch me with a pole that long. Now in Hollywood. But I was with her at one point between babyhood and Hollywood. The president's niece. Pink hair clips greased. But then I would have had to take care of her.

My pamphlet describes other methods. I now refuse to lie with her greasy parts. These details were all previously invisible

A few inaccuracies - there is no end of money. Black Mass. Devil worship. Number 15. He touched something white in his narrative but did not recoil. He did not recoil when he touched something white. Personal contact: Mammalia. Finger the document: Mammalia. In his hands>>>a prism>>>refracting Mammalia. My old age whorled in my fingerprints. We found bloody fingerprints all over the white walls. We searched for a human, but the fingerprints belonged to an ape. Mammalia. When she wants me, she refers to more than one of her fingers. She wants me in four stages - the last one being dicordance - when we squall and break, together. The lengths of limbs - oh, the variations. As in... I took the woodcut, pressed it against her fair skin, saw my art in her red. Now. Press. In. All. Of. It. Six ridges, between me and her. A monster in each one. Striped muscle. Striated. My muscle striates when brought to its end.

All that I did was copied by engineers.

Even before my brith, I had the ends and beginnings of all my creases.

Where's that Joe Buck?

Very rapidly, I worry.

Why would a surgeon wear a pedometer if he claimed he knew what he was doing?

He speaks into the palm of a monkey. Next, with a scalpal, he cut that palm off. Send it with a stolen stamp to me.

It is a chronicle of my struggles as well is his own. It is vague. It is the pistol in the concrete, the wax-papered meal in the cemetery. The semeterry. The seamatery. It is one granite seam that stretches ten times ten. A necropolis, as they say. You're pathetic. I saw her getting into it today. It is vague. That is vague. She is vague. But my whole life has been like this. My life has been like this. My whole life has been like this.

What are you talking about? What are you talking about? Don't you know I told you that in confidence?
Andy Kaufman arms when he's bouncing, dancing. My whole life has been like this. My bitch, my complaint, is to be kept secret. Harbor it in your wet vestibule. Well, I just wanted a mucous membrane to rub up against. She requested sex - reneged. I had just eated a meal in the cemetery. My grandmother requested sex with her mouth full of grapefruit. I woke to my grandmother waking me. She was choking. I gave he the heimlich, and half a grapefruit - covered in a thick saliva - came out of her mouth. A diet fruit. But it all his. He poked me so hard with his finger, but I felt okay because I knew I had a pistol in the concrete. He had one by his breast. Some sort of charcoal in his nipple. Reneged, again. I saw her - or someone like her. A new black haircut - went for the blackest haircut. Three pancakes in her sweatpants. God, the trim.

A request. A faint. I took the Long Stride after the First Step. I was the only person to reward myself, but I did so in grand fashion.

Subjects so far: The Changes to my subjects:
It Hell
It Lariat
It Gordons
It So so alfresco
You It
I She
It Fealty
That It
She Hands of God
My life Her hands of God
My whole life You
You The side
You
You A shunt
My whole life
His able body
My bitch, my complaint My whole life
(You)
I
She
I
My grandmother
I
She
I
She
He
Do I have the strength? Yes. Have I expired in her eyes? Yes. Does this confirm that thing about the pancakes? The haircut. Yes and yes. Michaelmas. We celebrated it in the dirt. Then in the sand. Then by a fire on a raft in the grean sea. Seameterry. The p in the berry. Up: u.p. Not so haunting to me.
It is not so haunting to me.
At least the dog is licking my hand as I leave, as my scream reverberates.
When I leave, my scream will reverberate. Two persons agree a corpse MIGHT be identified. iden by wom>>> The dead body of Jezebel resembles the red velvet cake I made for Michaelmas.

No, really, She found my ugly and decided to study stink language instead. This is a chronicle of my strugges as well as his own. His being me, too. Me too.
Right
Wrong
Total
She put transparent tracing paper on my face and traced my nouns.
My palmar surface pressed to her breast. The right nipple more in this world than the left.<<< In India, a violent death. He stole an office stamp and mailed a letter to his friend in India. Next day, she violent dead.
A signature I distrust. Yes, a measure or wiliness. She adopted my laugh and told me she does not find me ugly.
But I thought you found me ugly.
I don't. But when I'm busy, I think of little else
But I must smell.
The dogs left her skull and the palms of her hands. They violently - no, hungrily - ate everything else.
The statistical labor I put in to determin whether or not I am in a relationship

Once again, I am here, squalling. Thank you for commenting on my blog. I live and love on my blog. Are you OK? I read your blog. Are you ready to blog? Tonight, for once, we should blog together. You should blog to get her. Together. I am very interested in Tao Lin. He would work all day at the NYU library. All day and make the most marvelous. So I am very interested in him and his computer. He must have a computer. Did you read my blog? How are you feeling? Did you read my blog? Would you like to be busy. Like the folks on Martha's V, would you like to make your own sign language. Sound language breaks down in the water - it's just bubbles down there. Sound language breaks down in the air, when you sky dive. Our parachute is broke! Huh? But sign language works in the water, on land, and in the air. It has a structure that includes words, emotions, and gestures. So here I am, squalling, again, on this day. Yesterday, I was coming. He fought his jowl on the ranch of a Mexican confederate. You! Would you like to explain why you used the word Fag? Ghetto? Class, let's talk about this. Let's make statements and support them. Let's look at counterarguments. Let's get at the live of the living, the verve in my mouth. That comes out on the floor. My faithful narrative made no complaint. How could it?

Hateful language. Get at that
The card player's companion fell in Kansas.
My contemporary account fed to horses. Blood in the hay. There's blood in the hay. Don't worry about it.
What's my grade? There's blood in the hay. Get ready for my kiss. Bad kiss. A bad kisser. He is a bad kisser, but he is a catch because he wants to get good. How does he get good?
By kissing the mirror.
But the mirror smells?
No one ever thinks the mirror smells, but it does. Yes, the mirror smells. Killed, cursed, and gave a pledge. It is impossible to prove my fealty because I don't have any. I have no one of it.
H

He died a bit. He did.
He fought against us, but he had no financial interest in anything. Why did he fight?
For his grade. For my kiss. I am a good kisser. Very good. My mirror is slick with it. He drank from it, and his drink was thirty feet wide. He saved my tumultuous life - but then my life culminated in one night. In one night. Sewn up into a Bengal tiger. The fangs seen inside. Seen by whom? oooowup! ooowup! oowup! My enemies are all affluent. Ain't that a weirdity?

My son should thank me for bringing him into this world and for all the support I gave him. It was my spurt

Where's that Joe Buck?

Well, I'll tell you what you can do with those dishes... And if you aren't man enough to to them for yourself, then I'll be happy to oblige.

A spent match thrown at a mirror.

The chickens eat the bat shit. We eat the chicken. It makes us all balance. "Well, words like 'it' are vague," the Ph.D. tells me. He tells me rap, poetry, and songwriting are not the same things. It is bad when one thing becomes two. What do you mean, this ain't ancient times? Sometimes it is. You mean, you kill them because there are so few of them? The Atlas of the Human body. I am having a tough time studying for my exam. It would take too long to make all the notecards I'd need. I will talk to you when I am done with all my work. Well, why am I not work. I am a lot of work. I see I can be boring, talkative, and strange. I can be emotionally distant but not anymore. I am no longer emotionally distant. The last time I was told this, I meditated on being sewn up in a horse's carcass. The guitarist was so good. The way I described him: One of those big gorillas - the ones at the Chi zoo - sewn up in a dead tiger. He is an angry tiger sewn into a dead tiger. That god. There are so many vestibules in the human body - so many waiting spaces that should be on notecards. I love Vera. I love her notecards. Elliott Stevens. Elton lists Eve. LEN LETS VOTE SIT. A lot of vestibules. A lot of things sewn up into other things. I get the call, all right. I get the touch base. I get my base touched. Real base. To turn base metals into gold. I have been making hay and broke a single tree. Now that's how I end a semester in Kansas. Death by Aces and Eights. Swallow one all day.

I swallowed one all day.

A portion missing, like when he killed three out of five. Like when the ghoule. His left arm was still useless - hanging off a train - all black metal, wood, fire, fast trees. He rented his place then badly beat it up. Brought in all his friends. "Look what I did." Brought in people he doesn't know. "Look what someone - someone before me - did." He demanded a remarkable woman but only got a cellphone with lit up buttons. When text messaging, it is the worst to spell things with g,h, and i in them. I hate thought. Lack of authentic remains. Authentic is an adjective. No, it is the object of the preposition "of." In that sentence "authentic" is a noun. Authentic does not remain anymore. It's all plastic, 100 years of movies, and pentene sniffing. Years or sniffing pentene. Sniffing is not a verb. It it a participle. He returned the favor, deserving death. Deserving is a participle that gives us more info about "He." He is deserving of death. Now deserving in a gerund. He returned the favor deserving death. Now deserving modifies favor. It is a favor deserving of death. It is vague, says Ph.D. It is arrogant. What is arrogant. You are arrogant, Ph.D. My dad wants to know why I am not in a Ph. D. program. I don't talk to him for a year and a half. I only talk to him because my grandma has him on the phone. She gives me the phone. It's your dad, she say. I can't say to her, "I don't talk to him, to your son." Instead, I take the phone. He tells me I should be in a Ph.D. program. I tell him, your father is strapped into his chair with white leather belts that have rainbows on them. Your dad can't speak anymore. I worry about my health, so I'm all flax, fishoil, and multivit. A multivit will see in France. The socialized healthcare, I'm told. It's free, sure, my talkative aunt says. But you have to wait. You spend your vacation waiting. You can't get multivits. People in everyday life are sod structures we squat inside. A lesser known publisher with an air of respectability.

Boom town.

Boom, town.

He could no longer count his expenses. Thinning language. The oblique. I preferred to publish before I became too prominent. Not just prominent. TOO prominent.

The best guys are the ones who walk around with a tiny radio. And the radio is on and tiny loud.

Reflecting, looking upward. By the fire again. Strange to drive them off the hunters. My father back from an island - shot over 300 things. On the contrary - he would devour while robbing. The snouts of their horses - their legs - again by the fire. Looking upward. The two horses were in the description, exactly. I had a perfect description of his belt. The man who stuttered - his best friend makes belt buckles. Why are belt buckle makers always the best at sharpening knives? The belt buckle maker sharpers his belt buckle. Every time he tries to fix his belt, the buckle nips off some leather. Laughs. The horses in the description. They had the blankets of their old employer. The flames built after noon and saturated the windowsill. Flames saturated. The clothing was flames saturated. They put their hands in over a dozen private homes - put their hands in the windows. Everytime they passed a threshhold, they imagined they walked through a color. Now blue. Now green. Put their hands in private homes. A youth with good looks afraid of horse hooves. Fat. They started in the direction of the outlaws. As always, it was a matter of inlaws versus outlaws. His name printed in the bow of his glasses.

,for they were lucky to have been alive.

,for they were lucky to have been alive. I saw The Fountain today and enjoyed it very much. I thought I would go with another person, but I went by myself. In jail at Lincoln, he was a bad citizen. The film seemed to deal explicitly with Western religion stuff, but there was implicit stuff from the east. Those guys in Easy Rider died because they were going east. Everything went bad in On the Road because they were going east at the end. He was not killed by his lions; he was killed by the big show's lions. Also, it's interesting that Eve ate an apple off the tree of knowledge. It's like she ate of another woman's fruit, of a womb. In The Fountain, Dumb Old Tommy drinks of the tree of life's sap. That's like something else. A guy started talking on his cell phone in the last 10 minutes. When he did that, I accidentally said Fuck very loudly. I'm not that kind of person, but I said Fuck very loudly. He turned around and his face was all lit up with the sick blue of his cell phone buttons. At least he stopped talking. Then, afterwards, I went to the healthfood store and bought peanutbutter. For some reason, I started crying in the line. The guy, Kelly, asked me if I was okay, and I said I caught my eye on a magazine cover. I was in the maga-zone. One must be careful in the maga-zone.

When Wallace reached Lincoln, he fired at a little bird. They committed depredation in the background. Terry Southern has a son who works for Stop Smiling. Norman Mailer has a son who works for Stop Smiling. Nile Southern. John Buffalo Mailer. Terry Southern did not leave the undergraduates alone when he visited Austin, TX. He let Dennis Hopper take most of the writing credit for Easy Rider, though. He was an easy writer. They brought him in to fix Dr. Strangelove. Or...

I returned to my home and, once again, associated with myself.

Let it be understood that he only required lightning bugs. He wanted to impress her by taking her out to the movie and by yelling at anyone who made any kind of noise. He opened the seat and found something surprising - something full of utility. Well wrought words, yes. Can't do it. We returned the body to the private house. Over 300 things over my head. I could have talked him out of it. My cousin smoked too much weed in the army. My second cousin can get beer cans to stick to his head. The design of the new Miller Lite cans makes this harder. The end was fast approaching - date unknown. After killing him, they placed him on exhibition. I wander in security before I lash out - unimaginatively - with lies. I never expected such celebrity. I never anticipated local notoriety - the kind that comes with people who will fight for me with their mouths. Mouth fighters. I enjoyed The Fountain. I knew I would like it before I went because my mother said I would like it. I remember when I saw 12 Monkeys with my mother - she knew what I liked then. Back then, I hesitated longer. I had the faint hope of overhearing a murder charge, but they caught him first. Fistic

I used to think what I have is strange, but it's not. It's normal. It's enough to warm a room. I've been assured it's not strange. By who? By whom? By whome? By whomes? Well, by girls and my mom and my dad. I watched something about it early one morning. It is enough to warm a room but not enough to make the room hot. If it were enough to make the room hot, then that would be strange. Then the girls, my mom and dad would not assure me of anything. They'd have to calm me down and get an airconditioner or a block of ice and a fan in the room.

There's something of a haunted/hainted/cursed building. When you get in it - after you spend A LOT of time in it - maybe you read or record music or go on dates to movies - it feels like a room destroys itself. You spend a lot of time in this building, and you're in one room. You're in one room with a person. You're in the room, and you feel that another room in the building destroys itself. Another room somewhere else. You and that person go all through the building and look for the destroyed room, but the two of you can't find it. You can't find it because all the rooms are sound and okay. So you stay in another room before you feel the same thing. It feels like another room destroys itself. Now, the two of you wonder if it's worth it - worthit - to look again. Would it be worthit to find all the rooms are sound and okay? Would your relationship improve? Would one of you try to shock the other with some kind of physicality? It would be a kind of physicality that most find inappropriate/odd/revealing/strange. You guys would like it, though, and you'd have to change what you think about your relationship. Again, the feeling of a room.

Reynaud's Disease or Phenomenon. I don't know if I'm right, but I choose the phenomenon. At least it's not lupus or scleroderma or rheumatoid arthritis. A famous painter - can't remember - had RA. In England, they call Reynaud's the Union Jack - fingers turn red, white, and blue. My feet and fingers will fall off. I thought meditation would help, but it does, but it doesn't.

, for they were happy to be alive.
, but he had a problem on the chromosomal level.
, and he unloaded the cage in the back.
,so the dead tiger had a light inside.

I found I have an easier time writing if I make a box at the top of my page. I then fill this box with a color. I've already tried yellow, green, magenta, blue, and green and green. Whenever I get stuck or stumble or feel insecure, I look at this box. The box becomes a field. I go in the field. Sometimes, I did a hole into the field - the magenta - and scream in the hole. Then I return. I try to move from the coordinate to the subordinate. I move from the compund to the complex to the compund complex. I have thought about elliptical clauses and laugh when the subject and part of the verb falls away. I shorten auxiliary to aux.

So, to make the Reynaud's better than ever, I attempt to meditate. I should follow rules or go to a class, but I've made something for myself instead.

I start by breathing through my toes, my ankles, my shins, my thighs, my penis, my stomach, my chest, my shoulders, my elbows, my forearms, my wrists, my fingers, my brain, and my face. At each stage I imagine whatever part I'm on has lots of pores. The air goes in the pores and out the pores. It's not MY breath. It is THE air. The best part is breathing through my fingers and face. My fingers always tingle. When I breathe through my face, I imagine I breathe through my skull nosehole. I once wanted to start a club in which everyone had to take a clean razor and cut into his/her face. He or she had to cut all the way to the bone - the skullbone - and tap the razor edge on the skull. He or she would have to let everyone hear that tap - we would all hear that tap of the razor on the bone, and we would know she got deep down. What does that tap sound like, do you think? I imagine wet bone. So after all that breathing through my ankles and my penis, I move on to saying the words Black Bear over and over again to myself. As I say these words, I imagine a shiny black door slowly opening and closing. The door is in a white wall that's vast like the idea of white or black. I do this for only ten minutes. When the temp dips below 50, my fingertips still turn death white. Maybe I should change my meditation? I thought I should imagine my friend at her brother's wedding in Mexico. She's the bridesmaid and she's there and she doesn't know what to do. She looks very pretty, and her teeth are smaller than everyone else's. After all that, she goes to Las Vegas and wins 215 dollars at the Men in Black slotmachine. The idea is to take ten steps away from your face before you take ten steps through your face. Then you get in your face and ruin it so you only have your skull nosehole and you can breathe through it. It's a lot easier.