Wind, Water, Volcanism, and Binoculars

"I've never caught a jewel thief before. It's so stimulating! (Offers him the cold chicken). Alfred Hitchcock

Many bird suffer broken bones in their legs and wings. I have gorillas in my lowlands and later seems a noisy solitary. Hello. I took a cab from the last compliment i gave and drove to where coyotes were lapping at pools and something meandered in a wide delta before it emptied.

My Occupations

"Je peux rarement voir quelqu'un sans le battre."
Henri Michaux

"I can rarely see anyone without fighting Him"
"I can rarely see anyone without fighting Him"
"I can rarely see anyone without fighting Him"
"I can rarely see anyone without fighting Him"
"I can rarely see anyone without fighting Him"
"I can rarely see anyone without fighting Him"
"I can rarely see anyone without fighting Him"
"I can rarely see anyone without fighting Him"
"I can rarely see anyone without fighting Him"
"I can rarely see anyone without fighting Him"
"I can rarely see anyone without fighting Him"
"I can rarely see anyone without fighting Him"
"I can rarely see anyone without fighting Him"

I love your Answering Machine more than you

In 1975 Lou Reed released (much to the horror of his record label) a double album called Metal Machine Music. It was/is an expletive of amplifiers feeding back, bouncing back and forth, at varying speeds for 16:01 minutes times four. Rock and roll animusic. I think Mr. Reed enjoyed, may still enjoy, how this violent piece of electronic composition provokes and disturbs you to degrees of human unbeing. God bless LOu. He unnerstans.

On this spiky, sexy

"the decay of a note struck."
Boyer Rickel

KOf kof kof. sschlack. pssssch. zzzzzkkr. Ok. I have lost that long lasting hold and intense shine. if i were only more orchestral in my antelope-like approach to pleasure or instantenously able to handle what passes for revelation. my friend Bay leaf instructed me connect my breath with the here and now. nowhere. no way nowadays the jukebox is leased, the mug shot has been printed on tank tops, the low key determinations of price range depress, updating the updated prescriptions, being quiet. To leave behind the keys, wallet, credit cards, and walk in a plain sweat suit toward....in a particular direction.



the concept of heavy petting.

Put them in a widnow or even float them in a pond

"Hey kids, shake a leg.
Maybe you're crazy in the head, baby." Michael Stipe.


There is a Picasso and his influences show at the Whitney which I attended filled, as such, like a polyester cushion with 90 % clean behavior. I mean, it is Picasso, the Pablo, "was never called an asshole", the trap air of modern art, the blah blah blah smart people smarter people (than yours truly) could transform your knowledge of this artist into a true extension of your home (as it were). Yes, I paid, I saw, I glazed. a redundant glamourous MALE cascade, that may conceed a few points of easy storage: it is/was a survey of artists (standouts include: stuart davis, jasperjohns Dekooning POllock and in particular: Roy Lichtenstein) that concludes with a rustle a bristle a sticky question mark that felicitously, like a hammer, asks the question: Who else was influenced? and what else do ya got? oh me oh my. If i were Picasso i would have blown up a balloon then asked if anyone would like to suck in my breath.

No Thanksgiving

"Looking perfect as cats"
Robert Smith.

I am a heap of quotations. The shower curtain in the house Im (?) at has a print of a or (the) world on it. very blue. the world has some kind of mildew or mould reproduced on it. cigarettes bathing in ash in an ash tray is the part of the civilization where I am seeking none of the above. perhaps i can translate this as a ringing phone or i can say that i miss my friends while i clean the refrigerator. metaphor is a chore. I like turkey. and stuffing and gravy and pumpkin pie and whiskey and the system of myths I live on. in not necessarily this order I watched the following videos:Rio, Girls on Film, Planet Earth, Electric Barbarella, Skin Trade and my heraldic crest drooped. sorry. This year's thanksgiving winners are: to all of the people this year who gave us wars. to all of the people who stole other peoples' life savings. thank you to all of the people who made the earth a little warmer. thank you to all of the people who thought natural disasters were meant for the poor. thank you to all of the people who used sport enhancement drugs. thank you to all the people who...........you know who you are. Candy apples called me yesterday. he said, "i hate that you have a blog. but if you have one, don't tell me what books you are reading. i could really care less." sure thing. i am just a casual application today. rain. my freedom is caricatured by the absence of my wife. I miss everyones wife. he he he. truly, this thanksgiving grab your fork and the second the blessinbg or the toast is over plunge it into some fleshhy part of the person next to you. they will love you forever as i do.

Civilization and its Discontentious

"My crush is on"
Corrine Fitzpatrick

and so here it is. late as later but sleepingless when New York's finest visited the upstairs apartments of noise darlings on the alcohol tilt. the cops were the baritone of just briskly annoyed and just kep ordering the drunks here and there their steps all over finding the stairwell and the exit the outside before they found a sober person to talk to. the reason for their visit: a window was coughing up a young male body. i love my upstairs people, they just barely grazed by jobs, returning the favor of their youth in velocity and squall yet these victory laps, these nights of blatant throwaways, the dirty chronology, the fabulous momentum: the waste of time.