for strawberry moon:summer notes, dreams, and reflections press the sm:sndar switch. for new novel chapters and notes, scroll down some...
Tuesday. 
  18. Jewn. 
  Twenty twenty four, 
  i rise to hear of anouk aimee's
  passing...update list...
  no real dream to report -
  a wooden frame, perhaps a
  portrait being put placed
  into it...back track
  24 September 2015
  stamp eden mina
  stone the devil, huh...
  true must pen easy arm near a leg
  leg right foot forward 
  other dream reaching for
  nail polish...four little
  bottles, three match
  the fourth doesn't...
  helena alongside
  the good the bad and the ugly
  no real drama to report...
  five in the afternoon.
_______________________
Wednesday
19. Yune. 2024
three o'clock
i get up
from a lottery
dream, someone
wants to wager
on a number,
as i hear the talk
my thoughts take
me elsewhere, a
a beach at sunset...
a hotel room, and
back into the scene -
which itself was not
interesting...
sun cough water lie fly
bird tits snake with what souls he -
married yet out of sight
out of mind...
a guess trembles
my patience weeps
ann grooms cobb
either zeppelin
communication break
down or dylan still
waiting at the altar -
21 december 2007
Schengen
dobra polska dziwka
dobro is a resonator
dog rock sacbee stuck
no door to emilee
west sofia wore
a hound dog tank top,
'77 gang of four 
expelled i held on
to a chinese design;
making 墨水.

___________________

20th 六月 2024

layered strawberries
and cream parfait -one-

unflavored gelatin
-----------------
downstairs
to no cab twice
another taxi
speaker taking
up the backseat
won't wait
other hack
hints at language
supermarket legs
stare stair
set up
sorrow
not to men-
tion donald
suther-
land...
already thursday


cranberry juice cocktail
-----------------------

thanks, pam
map bee, pregnant dirty
talker hidden gem here
girl from heaven -
north's celtic simmers
in breast parties,
the movie doesn't end well;
when asked, (i simply
said yes i'd rather
the whole country drown
just to kill that 
motherfucker)


	
sugar
-----

settled into sleep
i dream that i am
having a recurring dream
with emilee -
i even awake in the scene
thinking to note it -
notice i am sleeping,
the weirdest drug -
she's next to me,
a screen with an anchor
power puff telecaster...
(maybe wishing for murder
suits me)




strawberry extract
-----------------
she has not been
posting or eye cannot see them,
it is pointless to chase
a dream that is not her
aim yet i sustain my
vow, by chance
the enforcer
spirals me into 
a mind bending titty fuck 
alivia, please get out of the sun...
i slumber until six
(lynch plays with a monkey)
i postulate that peter gabriel
is highly underrated.
cat and news make details
vanish, yet i adore
that dream of her, yes 
how i love her.


sliced strawberries
------------------
notice i am weeps 
laura ann moos
 with what sight out of mind... 
loretta alonzo
i dream  to report... 
maybe wishing for 
stuck no door thinking 
bottles souls 
married  out of stone
carved no god the devil 
true magazine

	
whipped topping
------------
Brady Brady Brady
well you you know 
you done wrong
Breaking in here 
while the games going on
You come a breaking 
down the windows
and knocking down the door
And now your lying dead 
on the barroom floor...
ancient song maketh
me think of macbeth
king duncan...
these almond cupcakes
no dunkin donuts...
joan is gone -
the grateful dead's he's gone...
i peek at the telegraph -
dictator first lady wants to stay sane!
donets basin not said 
nevermind sudan
or any deadly african famine
turn blind press release
gift undocumented spouses vote
 "It's amazing how violent
your imagination gets.
I'd never been that
angry before." 
they then asked her, 
So why the thriller? 
"At least you can kill 
people in a book," 
she said, slicing her gruyere tart.


22nd tjugoett 2024

layered strawberries
and cream parfait -two-

unflavored gelatin
-----------------

plural calves

never calfs

all day pulse

unknown

still up in the

morning the

electricity cut

party to pay

court tattoo anime

i climb into another cab

pulse now pains inner thigh

a moveable south east



cranberry juice cocktail
-----------------------

lights camera at three

keira had made it erotic

i studied lotte pictures

i wanted to suck

morgan saylor's tits

of course only wrote

her a note, fan mail -

when the going gets

tough the tough fangirl -

in Swedish fan is a 

multiple meaning word

usually fuck, what have

you done to me emilee?



	
sugar
-----

it's a mad mad world

butcher Arkansas four dice

loaded three dead

the ap picture window

like bird droppings

i need to pick up after

the cat -

instead i procrastinate

smoke heat up the left ovrs

can't get anywhere with you

or blow the man down -

interview from bygone days

miss grant even felt

at a turn of word




strawberry extract
-----------------

there's a breeze 

even rain, 

i run to sleep

i walk in slumber

through city streets

grey is the color of your

only friend, hey alice

or is it still keira

since i told her about you -

a Chinese man tells me

i have mispronounced

四川菜

faraway in Chongqing 

i imagine they are laughing

at me - a laughing stock

i enter the magazine shop

but emilee is working 

and i hardly take a glance

feeling unkempt - confused,

(like miller with acne

missed meeting lennon)

and partly as if i have cheated

her by scrolling through

media social awaking 

near midnight




sliced strawberries
------------------

sha na na Shannon

no shirt silk lake blue bra

says she doesn't see her

snapchats Instagram twitter

message her elsewhere...

hardcore two reindeer sheets

Hollywood met mirror met

bend over 

reece and clara might have

broken up

two lesbian beautiful

i hoped it wasn't my seduction

impossible she had beamed

at my grin

quote the caption; "i know you

just got done knocking up our

little girl but please dump a load

into me, daddy" wholesome

and topless 

or so the report read,

cum addicted	




	
whipped topping
------------
.
here here, to spanish bitch,

tamia alvarez, involved

in a frantic attack nearly

as bad as porn incest jokes -

mister busha alrlene bialic...

born in denville died in stanhope

samantha if molly ann drlik

is not with us then who will

deliver the anesthesia...

	

23th июнь 2024

layered strawberries
and cream parfait -three-

unflavored gelatin
-----------------

He could neither explain, not in any 
coherent fashion, his dream nor
how awfully dirty his jacuzzi
could get in a couple of days -

Thick wood steps, the type which
has seen a lot of neglect, he looks
at the word neglet wondering what
is wrong...What is a pirate's favorite
letter, sure you'd think r, but it is
c...Recent tik tok slap stick -
There's a man, nothing unusual
or attractive about him...Giving
a speech of some sort he cannot
hear - He leaves and returns only
to leave again in fright as the 
man's mouth bleeds blood -
He just read about Bogart
losing teeth during Beat The Devil -
Every landing of that staircase 
was adorned by glossy gems - 
Bleeding from the mouth, as good
as dead - a Dylan line, Tempest,
was it...

Refusing to sit in such strange
waters, he squats for a minute -
had he been sleep walking into
a mud wrestling match and
slipped in to scrub off...





cranberry juice cocktail
-----------------------

setting up inkrealm.info/66

takes the afternoon...

not to mention someone

jiggled the meta tag

to read featuring videos

of Alexandra Carmichael...

he wondered, was this the

weirdness...or even; was 

someone masked as him

trying to use her...

cover model, world 

& after world...

he takes a bit more time

to fix the code...then 

switch passwords

for GitHub & gmail...

the side effects of lotta

make him mop the

headquarters -

stitchler, that is...

he finally gets

blow the man down -

sort of like reading

tough guys don't dance...

he thinks for a second,

not a dog or a cat in the 

whole town...

turkey sandwich

drowsy into nap

but somehow finding

emilee in his imagination

makes his spirit reach

through space and time

to hold her...the embrace

makes him sigh, sweetly.



	
sugar
-----

if you needed 'popular'
proof that Ukraine was
always Russia, look for no
further citation than the
white album's opening track;

verse three, line one/two;
"well the Ukraine girls really knock me out
they leave the west behind"

now some will argue that 
the fab four were not scholars or
historians, but we all know 
there was a certain intelligence
about them...no way they were
wrong...it is a simple fact.



strawberry extract
-----------------

donny poppy sprinkle
is it possible to 
danny boy your testicles
chase lenhoff
louie oh smith
silvano marchetto
count my cigarettes
butch zigurs jan ballew
yes i miss the obituary
party but my wife's
love cured me
of wanting to push
that boat out onto
curling waves...



sliced strawberries
------------------

everyone says it 
is Maureen...
cuckold wife claim -
love cats pillow
skirt on the bookshelf
but skirt hasn't read 
much since the
last tycoon...
eight April 2013
Neruda exhumed
sure montana became beat
lokiceratops
permanent water restrictions
fentanyl sponsors puck
i am that merry wanderer of night
bean fed horses
bureau of land management
adoption clinic
i;ve always wanted a buckskin...



	
whipped topping
------------

 Sat in my place?
	
to own the distortion! seed.
Here so it bent: accounts 
 retrieve the misdeed hack the misdeed
 insect gnawed gnarled as my meta tag hunts

warped to your worst: 
 Crime to doom dealt proved 
 bill mere bite of the wise first
 recognized bite again moved

into faulty scars
an itch none may scratch.
or did you want a merit badge?
this curse reattaches like a death-match
sun to mars!	

24th Czerwiec 2024

layered strawberries
and cream parfait -four-

unflavored gelatin
-----------------

  My head was him trying woman?
 Heavy spinning ... 
  your confusion your shyness;
 went home  quickly 
before my wife
 and damn happy


cranberry juice cocktail
-----------------------

 I am satisfied:
you recognize me
 I have not met. 
that picture. 

	
sugar
-----

erection
 protruded from a side pocket. ... 
 loaded with cherry stones ... 
 handkerchief: nose
accustomed to slip;
lotta's cleaning
burning like fire on horseback; 
My wife' continued to us;
 I will introduce you under Alexandra
 this cap  sitting in 
 Suddenly the door 




strawberry extract
-----------------

as the hair had blonde 
 turned two tickets; 
 I said to her -
 Are you ready?
 restive traveling
 to me
 was the way
still a 
 locked door
 I  pointed 
at immortality


sliced strawberries
------------------

dream i cannot tell -

swelling thoughts

burst as it vanished

the bath now clean

howevever and the

meal made nap

steak rice all while

waiting for

anywhere with you

aka we the coyotes

so i watched

the guggenheim/stix

reel called

the great st louis bank robbery

not bad...



	
whipped topping
------------

sasha dz42o 
repeatedly asking to fuck
translated in thoughts
keira knightley
the woman in cabin ten
even when i try to whorehouse
four oh five that list puts me 
to work - 22 december 2022
sun in capricorn
hannukah
or the day rob reiner
took the "president's"
cock inside his  mouth
saying--- -
commander in chief
'when i die i want to be buried
right in the same coffin with 
you...you are the finest, the
most decent, the most deeply
humane man i have ever...'
sucked -- - 
with a tweet.
history ranch i brag
as dog vomit hid
there at beard. 

	

24th  haziran 2024

layered strawberries
and cream parfait -five-

unflavored gelatin
-----------------

more frightening than the slipped

stream of dreams disappearing

upon waking to new old thoughts

is the bizarre fact -

a double edged, fact no less...

of deep fake and or Ai porn...

sometimes free as well 

as not so expensive

the face swap might even

be exact...now that tax

comes with the strange

shadow that by the same

logic anyone could possibly

make a take at porn

then say it was program

generated...





cranberry juice cocktail
-----------------------

i was about to make 

one with princess

anne, 

but obviously the horses

went into riot mode...

all i said was that bitch

could suck a golf 

ball right through

a garden hose...

get well soon.


	
sugar
-----

ollie and eva's daughter

Drucie Stoudemire Counts

out of little mountain

into white oak manor

wife to james 

united methodist women

ran counts sausage

alongside him

 Dogwood Garden Club...

105

 Prosperity Literary Sorosis

rip


strawberry extract
-----------------

12 0ctober 2012

the asphixia video

comes with a pure fiction

disclaimer destined for

mature auds...

plastic bag head sigh -

poet sinus got he is the

ran by feel syntax

they actually gave the

no bell peace prize

to a continent...



	
whipped topping
------------

anywhere with you

or we the coyotes

made me desperate -

morgan saylor there

looking very much 

alike alivia...

sister in law -

of course i worry -

you know the counter

part is boneheaded

but what kind of a 

bonehead leaves

the vehicle with

the money? 

oh it's all right

bookstore, like 

no. someone please

edit that movie so

that it makes sense.

it was more fun to

watch lotta by the lake...

stitchler swimsuit -

trip road, but my spy craft

is faltering, can't tell 

who she was with - 

i was with new old emilee

pictures...book faced

yes it only took me

a few years to infiltrate

that reconnaissance detail.

a family of thirteen

sits around the lunch table

in chongqing, the elder saying

這麼明顯的資源他怎麼會錯過呢,
	
哈哈,
	
別說間諜技術了,
	
他連正常的跟踪程序都不會,
	
哈哈,
	
學會手淫派上用場了!



25th 
An t-Ògmhios 2024

layered strawberries
and cream parfait -six-

unflavored gelatin
-----------------


Another issue discussed
	was the increasing 
popularity of raspberry
	juice cocktails. 
While the writer 
	enjoyed the refreshing
	taste, 
he questioned whether 
	it was truly healthy or
 just a sugary indulgence.
	He debated over 
her intentions, as it seemed to hide 
	synthetic 
alternatives.

But perhaps the most intriguing 
	discussion 
centered on the mysterious 
	figure known only as 
Lottachen. She was a popular
	streamer who 
often showed off her impressive
	swimwear collection. 
However, some believed that she 
	was hiding something, 
perhaps even using secret technology 
	to enhance
 her appearance. Others dismissed 
	these claims
 as conspiracy theories,
	insisting that Lottachen 
was simply a talented performer.

Despite these controversies,
	the group remained
 committed to their mission,
	determined to continue
 exploring the mysteries of the 
	digital world. 
They knew that danger lurked 
	around every corner, 
but they also knew that the 
	rewards could be immense.
 And so, armed with their knowledge 
	and skills,
 they pressed on, ready for whatever
	challenges lay ahead.


On that warm summer evening,
	the writer outside
 on the patio of the family estate 
	in an Anya Taylor 
Joy movie. He sipped on the memory 
	of raspberry 
juice cocktails, discussing 
	everything from plot to 
ending. yet distraction breathed.
	a crowd.
	But among them, one thing kept
	drawing 
his attention – the recent buzz 
	about Deep Fake 
and AI porn.

As he thought, he couldn't help 
	but wonder how
 it was possible to create such 
	realistic images
 and videos using artificial intelligence.
	It was
 possible to trick unsuspecting people
	with these
 forgerie...Or worse, it was  
possible to use them for nefarious
 purposes...

Just then, a notification 
	popped up on Morgan
 Saylor's phone, alerting her
	to his dislike of the 
road film. She glanced at it 
	briefly and frowned, 
dismissing it as just another 
	of his moods.
 But as she looked up again,
	she noticed 
that everyone else seemed to 
	be sharing
 the same sentiment over
	the bonehead.

That's when things started
	getting strange. 
Suddenly, Lucy and Elvis
	burst into tears, 
wiping away drops from their eyes.
	Lucy 
nervously fidgeted in her seat,
	muttering
 under her breath.
	And her spell kicked in,
 suddenly Emilee seemed distant 
and detached.

Without warning, the writer leaped 
to his feet and ran towards the woods 
beyond the estate. The moonlight 
followed, drawn to his panicked cry. 
There, amidst the trees and foliage, 
the stars saw the writer standing in
 front of a large, imposing structure.
 It was unlike anything they had ever 
seen before – a massive machine of 
surrender with flashing lights and
 whirring gears.



cranberry juice cocktail
-----------------------

During the early hours dawn 
	a low rumble echoed 
throughout the sleepy genitals 
	of the writer,
not even in  New England had he felt

such stirred lust in his bed, groggily 
coming to terms with the realization 
that his life was about to change forever.

In the heart of downtown he rented
a dilapidated warehouse. 

The goal was simple: 
he would continue waiting
for emilee...
 But as the night progressed,
 it became clear that her lucky
videos had given lottachen
far more than anyone could 
	have imagined.

A team of scientists and engineers 
	worked
 tirelessly in his bowels 
	inside of the warehouse,
 pouring over complex equations and 
	algorithms.
somehow he would be gay - a limp wrist
when it came to the stitchler...


 Each member of the team was 
	highly skilled in their 
respective fields, but none 
	possessed the knowledge 
required to fully comprehend 
	what they were creating.

As the hours ticked by,
tension built within his testicles
made the warehouse walls tremble. 
The air hung heavy with anticipation, 
as if the walls themselves were waiting
	for something 
monumentally homosexual
	to happen. 

And then, it did, 
	but backfired like a fire;s
draft imploding with a sudden 
	surge of energy, 
the dream machines began 
	to hum and whirr, 
casting a faint green glow
	across the room.
 As the team observed the 
	monitors,
he was frantic, a man torn by his
	wife's
neglect and these women
	all telling him
he could not get hard for 
	anyone else,
he could only feel pain with any of the
grant sisters, and finally
	overpowering
him with images that flickered to life, 
depicting scenes of unimaginable 
cheating...yes emilee is only waiting
for you to go to sleep so she can
feel no obligation to her marriage...

At first, the scientists believed 
	that
 they had encountered some kind 
	of technical anomaly, 
but as the images grew more disturbing,
 they realized the truth. 
Someone had accessed their system
 and taken control, using it to spread
 chaos and destruction across the world.
California was alerted, the wild fires
were only the start,,,

The team worked feverishly to
	shut down
 the rogue programs,
	but it was too late. 
The damage had already been done. 
News sending shockwaves through 
the global community.

 Governments scrambled to 
	contain the crisis,
kenya brought out machine guns -
Alex Carmichael is in on it too-
shoot to kill!

 but it was clear that they were
	fighting a 
losing battle.

 All that mattered was survival, 
and the world descended into chaos...


	
sugar
-----

emilee launched a daring raid on 

the smash compound table, 

managing to install lauren

by the sea to protect her

neural pathways, 

all his other thoughts
	rendered useless.

succeeded but without protocol 

lotta entered with a bid to clean

live and perfectly renewed 

with confidence, he had put her 

in the artbreeder and she was

going to take full advantage -

a massive campaign to neutralize 

the remaining instances of Keira

and Alivia...

the sisters sat in their laboratory, 

surrounded by the challenge 

we have the tits.

six nipples discipline

efforts were met 

for him to remain steadfast

yet he remained committed 

only to emilee -





strawberry extract
-----------------

Team works furiously to 
	shut down a threat
Spreads across social media, 
Add fuel to flames, feed publicity
Something odd, no one understands
She'd been working too late, 
	missing the mark
Damage done, time running short
Consult with colleagues, 
	desperate to find answers
Screens flicker, images come alive
Insistence that Lotta is innocent
Equations and algorithms provide
	no solace
Each member digs deep, 
	beliefs challenged
Scientists believe something sinister
	at play
Buggery seems almost harmless,
	yet...
Awareness grows, anxiety rises
Not just any harmless experiment in lab
Lives are at stake,
	manipulation afoot
They must act, time slips away
Fear grips their hearts, confusion reigns
Uncertainty looms, future uncertain
Digital realm, secrets hidden
Unknown forces pull strings, 
	invisible hands
Morgan sips on cranberry juice, 
	contemplating fate
Analysis and discovery lead 
	her to truth
Images of violence, degradation abound
Revolutionization of world through AI
Residents stir, waking from slumber
Reality shifts, future uncertain
Emails arrive, filled with dread
Code and logic cannot conceal
What lies ahead, unknown territory
Chaos spreads, chaos reigns 
	supreme
Team faces imminent defeat
Only one path remains,
	determination drives forward
Breakthrough found, enemy exposed
Countermeasures developed,
	defense put forth
Time ticks on, urgency mounts
Governments scramble,
	citizens question authority
Efforts to halt deepfake
	and AI porn intensify
Future holds uncertainty, 
	battles remain to be fought
Amidst the chaos, team stands firm
Determination and skill guide
	way forward
Let not fear overcome them, 
	let not victory slip away
For the sake of humanity, 
	let them prevail.



	
whipped topping
------------



standing at a bar, 
	Alexandra sitting next to me -

i'm having a pint,
	bartender asking for identification -

i hear the number seven, 
	he removes the top

of my card, handing
	it back to me blank -

actually never been 'carded' 
	- actually nearing

the fourth dry year as a teetotaler...

i'm walking down the hallway of the 

temporary apartment on 109th street

katrina opens the door, 
	much to my surprise -

it makes me think of emilee's

poetic sobs that come from stomach -

yet my thoughts are filled 
	with lotta with lucy...

have not heard from miss grant in over

a week...leaving my oath
	alone with memories

which cannot stand against 
	the rising tide

of new streams demanding attention -

i don't know how far she intends to run or

if something is in her way - 

the contradiction of her yes and her 

silence baffle me - as if blindfolded

in the face of logic...in the worst case

scenario it is then a slave's marriage -

which cannot save me yet it serves

her vanity...not that i expected anything,

but i should in fact i need to...	

	(for miss linder with love, lookit
	it was the day juleps nasa again
	news leaking australia wiki
	yeah he says i am a spy -mayor
	covering leach vegas las name 
	killed five injured teen adams
	err icky how strange meanwhile
	filly triple play gainst detroital!
	"Leave Miss Tuah out of this..."
	

26th 
六月 2024

layered strawberries
and cream parfait -six-

unflavored gelatin
-----------------

inspector  arm chair 

special review position

counter-lottchen activities

late June 2024 with o. dunne

(wordstar.nexus/displaywriter)

pre-dream (wristwatch- - 2, fixed, square)

mother in aunt's house, 

i give other mother dalva

sunkist in nytimes bag

no one brings me anything

she had said -
	
possible

Russian girl, Akhremenko, promising

she will never leave.  

but these are emilee words,

never divorce...




cranberry juice cocktail
-----------------------

details of the report...
	
The Lottchen did magic
for nearly seventeen years...
lovingly in german towns
munich and possibly hamburg -

Please note additional files
from New York, Paris, 
and most importantly
London...

Now entering the eighteenth
year, the scrapyard threatens...

stalking rust eats through
the outer coating, the shine
is fading even in underwater
bursts the sky is hovering
like a doomed ceiling -

The agency noted the
smell of damp wood -
and the need to constantly
return to the color blue -

the smile is tinted with
sad shreds from the bulky
waste of keeping up
with the timeline -

There are hints, in 
split-screen scenes
of how it feels to 
be sawn apart -

helplessly exposed
to the heat from hordes,
the magic is chipped off,
but the seating is intact -

We give until November
to tie the knot
otherwise it will all end up
in the scrap dealers...

	
sugar
-----

well, gentlemen, my feeling 

is entirely against such nonsense -

not exactly being a model, eighteen

is yet an early age -

within my own experiences, i have

encountered that magic as still vital

and daresay it was even a type of salvation!

while it is true that there was a pushy

sort of bossiness, even for a Germanic,

it did not make me feel manipulated -

my only concern is the nearly direct

references to incident ily and so forth

not to mention name dropping

from the 1991 rolodex 

like already a partner...

still, in a most telling moment,

the suggestion to nap instead

of plowing through the sluggish afternoon

rejuvenated my emotions and

led me into dreams which otherwise

would have been lost -





strawberry extract
-----------------
he sure found rigid ducks
in cocaine doa -

2016 - a lot of them,
unfortunately...

back in sin city, someone
said, I've got a cock, now
just need a few whores
to shove it into end quote

i suppose he meant an extra
one grew out next to the original...
but you caint ride a few horses
with only one behind...

author boned jew lover
by the calm of hence

2017 Javanese calendar
1950 - 1951, solar 2560

stephen cra ig paddock
	whoa
nee henry now niece
perhaps why no state
trooper

we are leaving unesco

fines i argue lightly

extended




	
whipped topping
------------

oh bolivia!
yes it seems lottchen is heftiger
but i am giving cat emilee every
benefit of the kitten doubt,
every vow as it
was. 	

28th June 2024	

"drink bird sky ink"
	- two skinny girls

holy your space face
it's a church mouth pink
it's a thing prayer lace
drink bird sky ink

when desire's in doubt
the dream world's on fire
cell talk phone seems to shout
town blunt can't get no higher

all the souls they keep yeah
hidden in eternal sleep there
in a slumber so deep where
all the souls
	can't even speak yeah

drop out drops in
by a blow job 
	do you mean a kiss
menthol in the tin
diploma reads hers or his

the devil on the radio tv
it's a puppet show 
	of course it's free
can't feel the sting of the bee
mirror mirror is it you 
	-or- is it me


all the souls they keep yeah
hidden in eternal sleep there
in a slumber deep where
all the souls 
	cannot even speak yeah


all the souls they keep yeah
hidden in eternal sleep there
in a slumber so deep where
all the souls 
	can't even speak yeah


all the souls they keep yeah
hidden in eternal sleep there
in a slumber so deep where
all the souls 
    can't even speak yeahyeahyeah

(holy your space face
it's a church mouth pink
it's a thing prayer lace
drink bird sky ink

when desire's in doubt
the dream world's on fire
cell talk phone seems to shout
town blunt can't get no higher)

--chords,
	d7th// dmaj7// c// g// em - em7th--

- 27th June 2024, two skinny girls
ain't no wifey records, 
special thanks to def leppard,
	emilee, & lotta
(release available soon...)


29th 
junio 2024

layered strawberries
and cream parfait -seven-

unflavored gelatin
-----------------

the uniform

 this insubordination

along with his entire 

 local TV station 

 announced new heads 

from inside the television 

 chanting come to 

 our dismay. 

(he viewed the devil's bath)


cranberry juice cocktail
-----------------------

 two tanks  order you to withdraw

 mobilizing protesters

 to any longer

approached hallway your soldiers. 

hallway your soldiers. 

(he could neither nap nor sleep
in the midnight hour)	




sugar
-----

I will not tolerate  Similar ramming the gate

who ordered the interior of the building.

 of the building. 

 condemned  around 2:30 p.m. 

(he stayed up concerned over irony
until daytime, sleeping until four
in the afternoon)


strawberry extract
-----------------

 disembark  storming stated that  surrounded 

deployed  Simultaneously 

while  had He  as "elite"  

risen presence there

(there was a new track in the works,
drink bird sky ink already released,
he was going from the key of d
to g minor...)
	
whipped topping
------------

 immediate  shopping  armored 
 scenes were reported 

(everyday that week had
felt like it was a sunday...)	

30th 
june 2024

"low fi" - two skinny girls

the sun drives across my skin
sweeter than a nevervous breakdown
	breakdown
nobody in the human race
	is my next of kin
nah this tan can't camouflage 
	my sound

you make every need go vanish
oh translator says you're not even spanish
while the seamstress
	she does a double-stitch
you clarify yes
  i'm from the land 
	of the ignition-switch

oh

yeah this climbing sure brings knees
that broke summer in las vegas 
 is still beggin for rain
border of a roulette wheel
	you feel the grease
love time handle whore 
	swears it's all insane


you make every need go vanish
 translator says you're not even spanish
oh the seamstress 
	she does a double-stitch
you clarify 
  man i'm from the land
	of the ignition-switch

rick and morty makin me go puff 
	puff puff
i'm still at spongebob square pants 
break down
	says trump looks like mrs puff 
oh yeah i'm in a hypnotic trance huh

you make every need go vanish
make every need go vanish
 make every need go vanish
oh ooh
make every need go vanish
you make every need go 
make every need go vanish
 make every need go vanish
all right

you make every need vanish
you yeahyeahyeah
you make every need go vanish


-----
chords
g minor - 
	f major 
- d major - e flat - e major -
	f major 5...	
-------
	
two skinny girls
ain't no wifey records, 
special thanks to billy
	 and steve
(release available soon...)



one 
july 2024

idol didnt get enough
credit for queens and
kings of the underground...

2014...

Jonesy said, "Bill, 
	don't be profound
If you are still a
king of the underground"	

i don;t apologize, 
for the weird transitions...

these notes simply contiune
to carry on from dreamweaver
and some writings before then;

it is not linear and not meant 
to be, it's only my reflections
in a sense...

monday now, i got one more
track done, it's entitled;
"lotta learns about 
the birds and the bees"
in e flat - 
the lyrics are from the
reality show question
we all loved...
'is this chicken that i have
or is it fish...i know it's
fish but it says chicken
by the sea'

(in response to her surprise
at cat calling men...)

i dreamt i was underwater,
i'm sure it was emilee
but i kept thinking of
the burne jones painting
the depths of the sea...

yes i heard some things
about the debate,

but two questions pop up -

why was kennedy left out

even if only out of respect

for for jfk...
	
and why is everyone acting

as if the so called president

can't act ie what if that is

his act, the flimflam, a fake

i forget what i am saying

and i get tired bla bla bla...

oh snap le pen put placed it

deep inside le'macron -

da doo ron ron, nebraska

i can't really say i am surprised...

i was surprised by four fast guns

brett hasley playng johnny naco

you think mouths are only for talking...

a family affair, three of my favorite

actresses all in one rom com room!

two hours that feel like one...

then i dreamt i was in cathedral

parkway, perhaps getting something

for mother, interrupted at hallway

staircase east - a soft drink and a

a hard face - i suppose it lead to

me taking some extra time to clean

house here today...lotta said

she deep cleaned...

i like her influence. 

nothing from emilee except

a feeling, but how do i distinguish

emotion from memory...

july second 2024

as beryl air conditioned the
humid caribbean, the male
version of hawk tuah came
in the form of kennedy
hovering over a goat-dog...
i dreamt of making love,
and actually feeling
it...but i could not tell
if it was anya, lotta, or
maybe even emilee - 
it should be her, yet
still no word or even hint
like before, leaving me
to position myself against
my own petitioning for her -
ain't too proud to beg
as the song tells it
but i don't want to be seen
as if lacking logic...
	
scene shifted into argument, possibly something trivial - i think i made a really cool split screen animation of lucy...well, i know i did but i don;t want to brag - leaving us at the sale of alaska which we will now overly explore presently via prose poem short story historical novella... ---------------------------------------------------- please note due to the word count the text has now been re printed at wordstar.nexus/bakedalaska ---------------------- july the fourth twentytwentyfour lights out most of the morning - i was baffled...or is it befuddled... after bouncing from darkness to what seemed to be too much sunlight at the tail end of beryl hurricane, i put placed together a new track... liking it enough to gather chords with the remaining power supply - then, lamenting the lack of coffee (needs electricity to fuel itself) i turned my attention to creating some greyscale art which came out nice enough to even switch the entire source code of this page... as i wondered how much it costs local business to burn through their back up generators, the lights returned - however, there were sparks from the wall socket outlet, it seemed to subside but afer a few minutes, clearly the coffee was not rising...i pulled out the half melted plug and worked out a plan to get my coffee - given the limits of the kitchen, i managed but it is not the happiest of affairs - afternoon arrived and i started to think that perhaps i had in fact missed my sleep time, i had surely missed my dreams, and an exhausted feeling overcame me as i recalled how strange it was to awake without the white noise going and without the fan...i slept and dreamt of zofia - i was with her at some shop and as we left rain poured therein she started swimming across the avenue - perhaps in answer to my query about her hipline fish tattoo... getting up then afain torn in thoughts between emilee where was emilee - and lotta who had been dancing at the f12 - only one of those lockheed jets left in action...action also lucy but much more in the distance in the nearness, i augmented the alaska sketch skit prose poem story experiment work in progress... i did some obituary party, but perhaps i should have been more concerned over emilee - i was worried enough not to venture many steps into that stride - ride delivery, putting away the goods, how many times does one need to clean a damned kitchen... well i needed to view borrego twice before it started to make sense, but i still don't like it - exactly what type of pants won't pull down with tied hands - nice to see miss hale in any case, along with a pretty unseen side of spain... sorry for the nearly self pitying anti-poetic paragraph...lotta's headache has possibly given me a belly ache...the man my mother married has been dying since 2017...speaking with my sister spills the drawn out drama now partly insane due to mom's senility and i suppose it makes me type in a slow motion trance not entirely my own...as i attempt to disregard the scene for my own safety and sanity - as i attempt to escape...enter marx brothers, everybody knows there ain't no sanity clause...i note those later facts so as to not feel that i am avoiding it entirely. although, i am, as much as possible. ps, arguing with myself hours delaying kitchen, i somehow got it done...insert ironic yay - then laid the guitar down on two skinny girls' "hawk" -instrumental in d minor... riffs through eight step groove, uhm the chords were dm, cmajor, fmajor, & back... cover percy pilcher with his flying contraption... release out soon... no special thanks here, strange emotions all the way in recording and mixing...like an emotional rollercoaster i could hardly explain except for feeling a bit false to stefanie scott... i didnt mean to let such time pass, i suppause emilee overwhelms my sensations and before i know it, well... lets all check her out in hell house...add that to the dead don't hurt... six july twenty twenty four four past six, i'm thinking about devil's desk and the little volcano - earthquake i didn't know alaska had lava...some high rannking official resigned...obviously i don't want to chase details into the alaska project but would i be doing the story an injustice to disregard these points - i skipped dream notes because presently there is an issue within recognition... two women with nearly the same tone of voice... i even thought, had i been dreaming of one for the other... once upon a time i could here use the word shock - given how certain i was of one of them in terms of idiosyncracy... the astrologer advised to stick to my dream - in the scene i am sitting on the street, the way i did in university prostitute interviews - except there is a child next to me on my right side which i am balancing up with my hand - it seemed to sequel the zofia dream... it seemed to reflect an actress pictured with puppies... i had not dreamt of children since writing selah, wherein those characters were born - the far horizen - title - today sleeping as if a nine to five...yet mostly it was relatives...as if a sequel to dream fight with cousin - drama possibly lil ahem lilia mother;s sister;s girl...it only hit me years later that there was a second lilia, obesity's wife. in any case, other cousin's wife speaking of oranges from her growing tree, but she's no farmer... strife with mother as the neighbors try to mix in - sudden aunt and sandwich...i suppose i was planning my meal while dreaming... i keep jumping ahead, away, until the sun is setting and i am rising, partly viewed little thirteen which i didn't like although it serves as a clear warning in terms of trust and recording...the phrase revenge porn enters mind but it was not about that, simply casual greed in a sense. ps, hollywoodland (two skinny girls ain't no wifey music) little girl in your homemade dress kicking through the more or less did they really make you confess tearing up what's already been torn shadows in a slow flicker slide by no one looks up yet stars still shine wine pours from their wounds high saying remember when you were mine little girl in your big city stress The night's a neon guess every morning it's a mess as the sunlight resets reborn shadows in a slow flicker slide by no one looks up yet the stars still shine wine pours from their wounds high saying remember when you were mine little girl with your little boy Chinese take out noodle soy the waiter flirts like a windup toy fortune cookie blows its horn shadows in slow flicker slide by no one looks up yet stars still shy whine pours from their wounds high saying remember when you were my... shadows in a slow flicker slide by no one looks up yet the stars still shine wine pours from their wounds high saying remember when you were mine remember when you were mine remember when you were mine remember when you were mine remember remember when you were mine remember when you were you were you were mine __________________ recorded tonight &coming soon... _________________ chords verse, a major - g - e chords chorus, asus2 - asus4 - asus - esus _________________ 8 july 2024 waza maas - a ho chunk requiem -two skinny girls its not been seen, its not been heard there was no sight there was no word it wasn't blues, it wasn't rock and roll there was only a rattle snake's steady stroll (yet she went dancing anyway right over the hills yeah faraway couldn't tell if it was night or day everybody said - she's gone to stay) it wasn't red or white or even blue there was no me, there was no you it wasn't a reflection, it wanst a mirror there was only an emotion inside of her (yet she went dancing anyway right over the hills yeah faraway couldn't tell if it was night or day everybody said she's gone to stay) it's not been summer, it's not been fall there was no winter - no snow at all it wasnt a ring, it wasnt sewn there was a wedding but she was alone (but she went dancing anyway right over the hills yeah faraway couldn't tell if it was night or day everybody said - she's gone to stay wet like the autumn rain at play a light over the hills yeah faraway couldn't tell if it was night or day everybody said - there's hell to pay) its not been seen, its not been heard there was no sight, there was no word it wasn't blues it wasn't rock and roll there was only a rattle snake's steeady stroll (yet she went dancing anyway right over the hills yeah faraway couldn't tell if it was night or day everybody said -she's gone to stay) it wasnt a ring, it wasnt sewn there was a wedding where she was alone: she took it to have she took it to hold she took it to have she took it to oh oh hold she took it to have she took it to hold ____________ also coming soon (mostly e chords, some bebop notes...) in two versions; -waza maas (a ho chunk requiem) & -waza maas nuup *dictionary.hochunk.org ps if you enjoy words... **ids.clld.org 8 july 2024 well, obviously very large payoffs went into securing the strange election results - nobody wants a far right majority... riots break out across france, the news looks away, with the exception of the london evening standard. quite a scene...i could hardly believe it - lemonde went to brazil instead, while the afp hinted at the unrest only with the mention that thirty thousand patrol men were deployed to control the reactions... but perhaps our focus should be on the first chatgpt produced ai candidate for the american presidency... myself i always liked marine since her name conjures the old bag... pause to play more than a feeling key of d... elta, delta tsk tsk...break up the d'aria flight plan...maybe her mother will fly out first as her father leaves to dublin yes leaving her alone in rome for us to airline...what else could it be? gagliano blues, yes i know first world problems you wish you had but i say again her exterior is nothing like her interior...one of the sweetest girls on earth...simply happened to be born into a moderate privilege which to some might seem 'rich'... NYSE: DAL $46.35 +0.33 ( 0.72% ) (MONDAY, JULY 08, 2024 4:00 PM MIN 20 MINUTE DELAY) --ATH, $ 63.44 ( -25.30% )-- i didnt go to sleep until the afternoon awoke in the evening dreaming i'd found a picture of a girl - a cute child, woman in front of me speaking about her own child... my thoughts swirled between emilee and lotta - awaking aroused, i notice a tingle throb pain intermittent at my left toe - the alien probe is getting downright sloppy - my thoughts are a mess - the songs are out now... it seems impossible that they were mostly me challenging myself without a specific inspiration... twice working all night against the blinding deafness of surreal repeat listening wherein i often miss the obvious... one thinks, a nice chord progression and an interesting lyric will do it only to face the multitude of optional choices in multitracking... this time around was harder since my usual headphones gave out - meanwhile the studio skullcandy sound is too warm to translate - the hewlard packard speakers are unreliable - (where i mix) and the snapdragon (where i master) gives me more stereo than any one actually listens to... and in terms of my two sets of earbud airpods, i simply don't trust them to be accurate - since they are shiny even before the gloss gets applied.. in a sense recording a track sometimes is like when steinberg gives you x-stream and you go wow great but then you need to get halion sonic seven so alright nothing to worry over until the fact is cleared; you also need elicenser control center, -which will be discontinued in 2025 but if you don't license a product before then you will need to start all over- now to continue with the need list: steinberg activation manager, steinberg installation assistant, steinberg library manager, and steinberg media bay... actually. one product brings in six more! i find myself thinking it might be true that all my devotion to emilee produced a string of contradictions in people pretending to be her which i didn't believe possible that is women and jealousy or that a man might be more attractive when "taken"... still, she has not 'surfaced' except in my mind's thoughts leaving me the need to reevaluate how to carry out my vow? i did figure out that my present place is no place for us in the sense that there is no reasonable manner in which to raise children within noisy surroundings and that led me to see that the same applies to me...there is no sense in suffering through the street vendors and such...therefore, on a mission to move or soundproof. ps, actually ate twice... snack meal at bikeriders much better than kingdom of the planet of the apes, which was illogical. enslaved eagles? also not one blonde ape! what is the franchise world coming to? nine july twenty twentyfour i dreamt clearly of my aunt's house, specifically the marble floor i so admired... no one in south korea told me i couldn;t smoke indoors - given the situation with alec now my song hollywoodland sounds even timely perhaps...there is a bit of respect missing, isn't there? in the dream someone is pointing at my ass - in contrast to vagina, imagine that! baldwin's curse word assbag, comes to mind - we are liberals, even if it means our women get raped by auslanders... ahem - doctor borrego speaks of sharks... in the dream i wrap a towel around myself and slide crawl upon the floor (how i noticed the tile) the alaska daily news will only print twice a week - i don't know if it is a message or simply a mess, the press has yet to doubt the president is acting! even bringing in more quasi confirmations of his incapacity... but it is the obvious answer...the incumbent suddenly as the underdog hound bites secret service the artificial intel capsules are settling in - play dumb call it disaster- maybe a few more rounds of rope a dope... hollywood donors quit after giving millions... you see the irony? no, i guess you don't - i am only certain kennedy will not win. i get up finally feeling as if i had slept a while even if the dream was a nightmare - ten july 2024 i think to myself a jury of peers would need 12 actors who were previously involved with kim basinger... word from Bösingen uhm Freudenstadt, Rottweil... i dream mother went zara shopping, but my shirts look like blouses and the boots dont fit my foot .. i think to myself i could write a masterpiece but people who suck cock for porn thrills will always get more attention... pelosi and clooney join the chorus line... no way a grown man elected president would ever tell a lie... cherry tree lip readers whats the frequency kenneth... in fact the church is weighing on making him a living martyr saint along with jill... the first lady bill of three in one nights all in, is everybody in? i guess being in positions of power, they feel history can be pre-edited... if this farce continues, they might as well call off democracy alike ukraine and create another dictatorship... as long as we can all pick on a hard working actor that happened to aim for the camera with a faulty prop! ps, viewed the exorcism and there's more gladiator in it than ridley imagined, omfg. spoiler; demon daddy tells his daughter 'she caint suck your pussy like me...'yeah like a drug i tell you. thanks Russell this makes up for the italian thing, Crowe also thanks Hugh, but it is a sit and scroll Grant world now without a single movie theater palace in sight. eleven July 2024 bizarre dream. soft fur, dark creature with pleading blue eyes settles upon right side nearly in an embrace... i am laying down in the scene - there is no reaction within my emotion...a minute later a larger creature clobbers the thing over the head with some sort of stick...i look at it partly confused partly feeling sorry for the thing still holding on to me...there's a a crazed look in the larger animal, if indeed mammal...i move to awake obviously wondering what it might have been about - somewhere after midnight i notice the internet is drifting off - signal is alright, phone line is good, but no connection - i go through the on and off motions - i phone the company but their schedule starts at seven... i actually connect the cable tv and that is going through without weirdness...the bulls in Pamplona are being recounted...men dressed in white and red racing in the frenzy... i turn it off, no longer used to viewing television, then i turn off the router too otherwise i will waste time checking and reviewing to see if the wifi is back. call at seven to hear them say call at eight, call at eight for a long wait to hear them say it will be fixed during the day... it happens at eleven soon after delivery arrives, sister's maid also bringing a pair of levis and three vapes, they missed the thc but i'm more upset over the shelley duvall passing...i react with art in the list and add Nashville to it - 13 july 2024 the earliest minutes of saturday - awake midnight with mind swirling, say goodnight gracie, bowers and buffalo - dream intrusion man asking if i am perez...stairs key taped next to door - someone like mason saying not to worry about money - the dream scenes going ninety miles an hour...lotta could see her stockholm street from the skies - i created a page for 2sg... inkrealm.info/twoskinnygirls luiza is going all out pink - i suppose in slippery guesses that putting such a spotlight on emilee placed an extra dimension of pressure, given that it then became not only my truth but a work in biographical fiction or as the readers would have it not to mention - as in an earthquake, the replica effect - i surmise that i need more patience than i previously expected - unexpectedly i brought mother out of memory's confusion by simply mentioning beetlejuice and for a few minutes life felt as it should... i know some folks don't believe in unicorns, but behold the proof, winona ryder's holy magic! john lennon instant karma... shooting in tompkins square park - i pose the question to myself, baked alaska... yes, to give the wip a separate place... feeling 'law' hounds sniff even my "box" met delay left three weeks ago no, leaving tuesday something about oil? my christmas in july might now be ruined... watched latency - impressed even if not exactly lynch which i had started to expect part way thru... a room of one's own, "Literature is open to everybody. I refuse to allow you, Beadle though you are, to turn me off the grass. Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind..." noon... i view'd the inheritance until peyton list got killed... still wanting cinema i went into wildcat yet left it for later as it was too good to see in the morning hours, saving it for a goodly night... moved the alaska writings to wordstar.nexus/bakedalaska now just like that although i have yet to decide over the images to include or maybe invent... fourteen july twentytwentyfour the boob tube for bastille day at the realm - sometimes - i will admit - not believing in the mantra; the answer comes before the question yet as i awake from bizarre pizzeria dream, fat street spanish man shouting about lucy, and someone echoing words that i heard as futro abernathy...i get this weird timeline wherein the lifted restrictions re, social media donny meet the clearly homonym ruth before guru passed away milton teagle... not brasco - see what hap- pens...not since holyfield versus tyson has the ear been so mentioned... t-rump shot from the roof - we were pointing at the crawling rifle for like two minutes - it's possible they had no westheimer view - quaterback sacked but most likely winning the election in fist pumps - oh this bitch likes it rough, it had made me nervous, not the shooting i mean come on it is america... but the chair when i mopped - hearing those words so out of context, so not my style - as if someone were about to attack a woman... oh this bitch likes it rough... not that i could be of any real time help, but dang how i would have wanted to assist whichever her. in case /as-sass-i-nation. talk walks into sunday mass where the priest has a deoderant penis which rubs the altarboys' armpits...you work hard, you need right guard, stick with the winner - fire yours, hire ours...yes minnie driver prespiration ad, josh brolin -right guard will not help you hear; brace your self my dear it's a holiday in cam- bod-ia - thomas matthews crooks /forty guns playing on turner classics, 1957 samuel fuller...wiki says Griff's expertly-placed bullet merely wounds...van gogh smiles trailblazing Ed.D '70 known as renowned impact spans generations jewish sex therapist diminutive talk show host world famous... you think like a baptist beheaded before the coming of the saviour for a minute there i thought the secret service and trump had simply ducked down in a spontaneous gay orgy, suddenly feeling the need to hit the hay, hey now don't go i havn;t got to someone's popped the butcher byline obit daniel lewis but all right it is none of my business even if all any decent reporter had to do was question the white house facts for once... (Vice President Joe Biden said he would have run for president, but he decided that he "couldn't win" and would never again seek political office.) "Now his bread it was corn dodger And his meat you couldn't chaw Nearly drove me crazy With the wagging of his jaw..." ny post front page deodorant woman under trumpet armpit... stormy weather? quote tommenc They were following the script. When they saw Trump fall, they thought the hit had been a success and it was only then that they permanently silenced their weakest link... maga crypto coin up 55 % 8-8-22 mar largo in mind when headlines fbi... director nook or corner As a variant of Wrye, it can also mean "twisted or crooked one"... velvet excerpt "No one seems to be around - No one seems to be watching him. He looks again at the ear. We are so close we can hear ants racing frantically around the ear into it. There is dried blood on part of it. Jeffrey finds a brown paper bag and using a twig, he pushes the ear into it..." northern Sparta tremor carolina as prelude to magnitude 5.4 earthquake at affected countries: Costa Rica and Panama 11 miles from Puerto Armuelles half an hour before the hit... i propose helmets and body armor for the next debate, car horn amnesia honk worst place in the world, doll fins... jeffrey clay johnson dead at sixty six "But, he said, 'let us begin'. Today, in this moment of new resolve, I would say to all my fellow Americans, let us continue..." the Ambassador Hotel los angeles formally opened to the public in 1921 - new year's day the Piper PA-32R is a six-seat high-performance, single engine, all-metal, fixed-wing aircraft ricky martin vida loca destiny's child bill top the charts 16 july 1999 The couple’s son the point she can be both in the White House and makes the fall. makes the fall. Ultimately Melania believes she can be a “hands-on mother and first a report. first a report. insider told Page lady at the same time the would not have to be on up the role of full-time first to attend New York University in the White House in November she lady if her husband wins from high school and is expected Six that the Slovenian former model insider told “She does not a hands-on mother and First Lady has cut a deal with Donald at the same time. second term as president according to 18 has just graduated a non-stop schedule of events... post- script; slowly i get back to my own sunday. rice onion steak, viewing and reviewing wildcat... i would not have agreed with ethan in casting daughter yet she pulled it off and in a few places exceeding expectations in the sense that we feel the writer not the acting or the screenplay...i think her name is maya which for a minute felt ironic as replaying one scene i thought wow she looks a lot like maya... re; bartleson... hmm skankbang girl... in any case, i simply loved this film and laura was perfect. 15 july 2024 i suppose, my point, although vague at the act of writing for perhaps trying to pour in too much, was that now (nearing a third election victory) donald trump faces a pretty tough road in terms of those nearest to him...in essence, the attempted hit might give other maniacs the idea that if they can't get to him well there always his children...a family of targets...how does anyone possibly deal with such a situation. i doubt he will pull out of the race but nobody can blame him if he does. wouldn't you? you know it was the first time i encountered that johnson quote, how ironic as history finds the kennedy deaths continued. yesterday, i continued the alaska project, feeling a need to fill up the word count to actually call it a novella...feeling that a sort of mystery subplot story could serve it well as a sort of footnote after the "ending"... once upon a time, i heard manson and he is the only person i ever heard mention it, speaking about abraxas (sometimes abrasax) and it seemed so obvious that I said to myself, how could I have missed that, I mean there might not be another word so near to alaska, abraxas - alaska's spirit moved me to make it a scholar cat named hedvig with a cameo by gogol - two sofias and myself in time travel reincarnation put placing myself as a student of the occult in a relationship with one of the sofias while intent on writing a book about what was then known as russian america... i worked on it with gemma but most of the time went into me telling her about nova express and the western lands... the day was down to very late afternoon and i was nearly about to disregard the doherty news when lucy made it a point and thus led me to see the error as indeed the cinema list required attention - but i had two good reasons one i felt no connection to shannen and two i felt it too weird a news item on the heels of the shot ear... but i must admit it made for an interesting transition within the list - in my dream i felt the start of intimacy, but then when the face turned to face me it wasn't anyone i knew and awoke disturbed - yet dreaming again, i guess leah...for there was a puppy dog even if on reflection i ponder if perhaps bijoux... but either way all blurry as if a myopic removed glasses - i wake up with that frenzy...far away from myself, for a second i can't remember lotta's name, as if i'm trying to quiz myself, shania twain concert memory, i see the girl on seventy third street with her four foot poodle and imagine her naked next to me, then worry that i will pass out and the hound will start humping me kids in the hall style - alexandra blinks in thought tel aviv not baltimore - in the following seconds, as all that took seconds not even minutes - i decide to escape the mosaic breeze coming from bed...i greet skirt, think of emilee, the third reich, and try to gather myself into a calm state before taking a pee. ps, a few months ago i suggested to a family friend who constantly struggled with health and finances to fake his own death in order to collect insurance...i was informed of his passing but find myself wondering if perhaps he actually took my talk into a walk. whatever, i'm happy not to have to fear the phone ringing with his voice elaborating on the sufferings and need ever so content in that brand of christian faith which obviously led karl to go darn it is the opiate of the masses - black strap molasses and the wheat germ bread - other marx sings... "Hello, I must be going I cannot stay, I came to say, "I must be going" I'm glad I came but just the same I must be going, la-la!" (not richard noel) 16 july 2024 the day was, yesterday, flying by. someone in a hurry to make noise... i'm thinking upstairs but sound travels too - so maybe downstairs- it's been happening for a few days but dang there were about four or five hours of clangs springing as if a desperate attempt at your guess is as good as mine...hurricane warning? cyclone alert? tropical storm torrential rain about too crash down on the island? i look out onto the avenue, no cars in the garage so it must be a maid or a makeshift man doing a diy thing, no clouds threatening, not even rain...so perhaps a very loud ghost...connie lee warrant gullixson!

i give up, i go to sleep, but the resonance of no reason resounds in mind, minds like to make sense - for a minute my right hand feels as if i had been hammering away with a throbbing or maybe the thought of lotta knit me suddenly - emilee fit me seduction yet in the confusion i felt it could not be her, not within logic...worse then family talk memory as if insanity itself has a point to make - imaginary incest is all right? maybe the neighbor is trying to cover up fucking a dog - i slide into sleep frustrated, i find no slack or solace in dreams - up in the middle of the night wherein it's already breakfast time in europe and even gemma is trying to speak to me... so a billionaire stands next to a beard, a pence for your thoughts? it ends with nce...ah pook ("new chemical entity") and without hesitation tells the crowd i took the deal, they dropped the charges so new as for inky's concern for my family well i'm rich and thus can afford to risk losing a couple of them if that is what it takes to be by den white house hotel dense with flag invisible phantom empire gain again but inky didn't hear maga being too busy making manga overlay idea in a try to raise the new domain's counter... well into the demons or the devils or as it is trying to be settled in terms of title the possessed, inky wonders what dostoevsky is going for in this novel. post-script; i postulate - if ever there was a time to weep for democracy - this might be it... the obvious speech following a near death experience; i will no longer seek public office to enjoy my remaining years and protect my loved ones... yes? well perhaps; i wil quit the race to dedicate my life for the quest of gun control in america... no? mine might have been, i hereby endorse kennedy for president thus returning the country to its rightful camelot king heir and thus ending the dark reign of corporate control... well? just like biden, i cannot tell a lie, they have cloned me and the nsa has programmed me to go hell or highwater head first into four years of chatgpt mind control headline slogans...the real trump was castrated and melania sits in a corner with his glizzy now frozen stiff upon an altar where she prays i can't believe the creampie days over... his body, flown into space, is expected to float for forty nine light years... ok? ok, so, maybe in the far reaches of imagination he is a warrior, despite dodging the draft once twice three plus a couple of other times, intent on fighting for the you knighted stay sis, and it is only wisdom that keeps him from speaking about the obvious emotions in case it is not all a cover up to move the spotlight from joe pretending to be alseep at the wheel, but i feel correct to question in fact to go even further and ask are both candidates now actually robots? Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots! the two-player action game (wd explain why kennedy left out of deb-ate) from 1964... two dueling robot boxers, Red Rocker and Blue Bomber, (wd explain the kenya stop) mechanically manipulated by the players (agency heads) and the game is won when one player upper cuts the opposing robot's head off the shoulders... (wd explain the quote, i shouldn't be here...) anyone? anybody? may we have our country back? if not now, when? 18 july 2024 yes, i have seen or experienced the recently reported events... noticing, for a second, the strange timing of jellybeans and covid along with the Vierge à l’offrande speech dressed in purity white... and although all this points to how true my canto homage told you i could take over in revolution riot right, you know it's not my fight. not the light i wish or want to stand in...politics that is - to me - especially now it's like a profession for failed stand up comics - i'm sitting, hopefully under the radar off the weird grid that is wired to soundbytes... i have mentioned the subject concerning elected officials and elections only in quick surprised reactions to what is poured in via headlines - it is what it is, and i am am what i am... i do sort of wish i were the type of writer to edit more, but like the song says, i did it my way...now then, all this rambling in order to explain that you should not, dear reader, expect certain story lines to continue...in part, thinking of the big picture, i do not want to give any of them the obvious attention they seek - "who pays any attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you;" invisible segue here goodbye, great balls of fire, tiktok has no ee cummings, literally excluded i suppose for cum - you can't make this sort of thing up...the cannibal female frog ate her kermit when she didn't like his tune... jeffrey weston looking eerily like the former prince harry, forced his way in, beat the woman, raped the woman, empregnated the woman, infected the woman and finally killed the woman via said infection! if you have seen the trailer you have not seen the poetry within the the dead don't hurt - it is truly stunning, bravo. i got lucky in terms of opting for "a sacrifice" before the "horizon an american saga chapter one" as back to back westerns would have blended in mind even more, i want to stay here you pipsqueak, not only for style but both huston'd... a sacrifice deals with the theme i encountered in "the wave" but in a much more drastic setting...i liked it although it did make me worry some over lotta...in any case, i won't write about horizon because i have not finished seeing the scenes, which i understand to be two more films... i will jot that these are among the very rare three hours that feel like fifteen minutes. meanwhile, i sense that i have not truly dreamt in the last few days, as these notes surely reflect...last night, i recall a couple of moments, standing in a very silver living room - cheap 1970s furniture, i was eating chips or bread or perhaps even nuts...looking at the remnants adorn the floor, crumby dream, no? also spelled crummy...the other moment was noticed but not retained, something too vague to guess - lucy got a haircut, lotta went to rose and i tried to get into lily's an hour and a half before closing time - cute place. cut to new scales...my ritual is ten scales, can't wait to sound proof in order to also vocalize... but i heard jodi foster mention twelve and something in me went out reaching for two more... well, i learned the enigmatic and have it memorized...later today i will try to get the mixolydian down in the groove as well which i selected thinking about jerry garcia's style, in my first attempts i felt the talk about his practice, but like method books...can't remember exactly what he said but it had to do with periodically finding new ways to present the notes...there was noise then and there and spanish derailed the journey... idiocy rises in me upon certain languages as if trasnformed, transported into a toppled version of my self. perhaps, like politics... sadly, to hope despite no logical resolution in sight. strange how some people still insist that you are like them even in the face of extreme differences... 19 july 2024 friday open letter to caitlin; passes feels like a cheap cousin of onlyfans and in my opinion, both put place prostitution as if an extra credit... erin it is an error, these things get leaked - o'neill you are kneeling at an altar not worth your time or efforts... friday open letter to jesus; we have not spoken much since high school although i did attempt to call at the turn of the century but yesterday as the noise hounded me i imagined all the jesus posers being nailed to new crosses and i thought what the hell so here;s my idea, if you could just tidy up a few of the guest rooms and bring my surrounding foes up there for an endless sermon, i will be grateful... friday open letter to pepsi; dudes, i like pepsi and i imagine you do as well, well some bonehead took the executive action to repackage the contents - a double litre was delivered to me now with a darker cap and the words maximo sabor or something spic above where the logo disappeared - that one tasted similar to the product but later i ordered my usual bottles which came with said packaging but seem filled with redundant syrup...i expect water in my pepsi and i'm not joking, the balance was off, sugar off the charts...not even rc cola was ever this bad, i froze the second attempt and thaat helped some but i am writing to implore you to fire that bonehead and return the product as we all knew and loved it... friday personal notes - learned, leaned into, and have memorized both new guitar scales...second one was made easier by the fact that i already knew the lydian - terrible meal with the left over chicken... exhaustion couldn;t be beat as the late afternoon turned to evening in trying to get to sleep or even nap against the pounding noise... dream didn't eat however, i seemed to be in a dugout - a japanese team was playing an american team... baseball, possibly...no details even at the uniform to report - atomic bomb, push button time lapse echo from end of the world 1940s...i cannot say, somebody won, they always do in sports...perhaps why the venue for the total speech was where...i woke up feeling as if i had time traveled through stadiums and irony... is my soul so revolted by noise that it runs as if melting time... dream didn;t stand sitting on a sofa a woman on either side neither of them in a romantic sense - simply there - on my right she's sitting on an elongated hair brush the type used with blow dryers i look and she's wiggling i try to snatch the stick but she refuses i turn left and say she's lost any sense of decency...i do not hear a response - discomfort settled in awaking knowing that they were either ladies from my family or women pretending to be relatives... lou reed my red joy stick - widespread technological disruption reported and reportedly being fixed as we "speak" - nobody can fix ella hunt in lady chatterley's lover which i spied for her inspired by tits at a glance in horizon but she was not the lead and so i skipped through it only pleased at the james joyce mentions... how could the director not see that his actress was posing like a model instead of acting, by that i mean reacting - sure somewhat attractive but even the gamekeeper must have felt like she was only for the camera... someone please put those two in a repeated viewing of the postman rings twice, remake not original, to get an idea of how film chenistry is supposed to look - anyway the settings were pretty good otherwise. keira knightley would have been genius in that role...thomasin, yes this the only other time i have been critical...it seems i only go bonkers when a film had such potential that i sense no other choice but to a rant beserk. ps saw you in eileen and was impressed. i'm not excited by self-portrait, but the joy synopsis sounds thrilling. 20 july 2024 made vicewise. the blue rose we viewed tell it to instar. nat nat, you know i love you but feel a fright maybe only a fight to go poe via baltimore it to instar. And to find a locus pupal souaves the pizdrool was pulled ganswer yes anwar lust you’re for giving me that another would finish his sentence lara said deleted but i really don't know o’verse to bronze cardinhands he a big deal missed carolina herrera INGENUOUS AND LIBERTINE. The eggways will doob I guess. aliments of jumeantry. so i deleted in turn fender app fernandes bankrupt the entire history past present future might be found in finnegan's wake i awake without dream thought yet thoughts spin - pee and then sit to find bedroom perfume sniff at desk irony, if only gogol hadn't wroted the nose then perhaps... f- 16s stand no chance against moscow flyers trump adieu us. Prompty? not being political it was cut that way Mux your pistany at tute spirit spires—Dolph dean of idlers meager lutetiae unde auspiciis lucy got me thinking of kessler secundis tantae consurgent dillon a dollar chanching letters for caitlin all over insta alveum fore futura omnem demun in red and the lowered in two that for? warehouse dream like the immense oulets, cash tellers actors i recognize as i walk thinking what a crowd but i don't see who are who that four? they standing in line Now whole packnumbers and book of page her numb? gorgeous girlllll and pretty babyyy said emilee far in distant suspecting the mud in lotta's eye which cometh out of Mam humanae stirpes antiquissimam she saunters in and out of the water THE LUSTRAL PRINCIPIUM. I want to give her Hickey’s hucksler or persan i doubt bella hadid is hatred comic cuts and series addidas There’s the isle of Mun ah! for him he had that pair of shoe same never heard of the olympics pulled commercial after the press put it everywhere the point of raspberry emilee other girl pains my understanding lucky comment parody even penis artist is implied he druider would smilabit at HYPOTHESES OF COMMONEST EXPERIENCES a few more days and i still won't know but maybe that was my first time seeing hal five in a dream - BEFORE APOTHEOSIS OF thusly. First mull a mugfull of Wellington’s many many clothes yeah that nameless lead that looked like ava is said to be Iron Bridge kalitowski i thought of zofia again oh nosferatu, i cant see that one due to weekend endgagements, sorry i'm not sorry and so by sine mora dumque germany and the idf look at the choirage answer know. kiev clown will dance with any elected amerikkkin...i twist my thought over pjs in the wall... ken you ninny? Probe loom! With his primal handstoe suitclover. saturday and what if i am slave to love, Dear hearts of my counting in salivarium. i do Concoct an ask expecting the answer guess exerxeses no i do not broadcast thoughts willingly for the sake of wildness that stunt is not my head always were to be capered but in case my jeer at mcrae went heard, i simply don't get it? chubby girl dance music two hundred dollar tickets... some of them reportedly sold out... well good for her but not my indian help fort plates to lick one in applepine odrer i'm really thinking google fi for—husk hisk a equoangular trillitter On the name of to bog PROPE AND PROCUL IN et Jambaptistae mentibus revolvamus THE CONVERGENCE OF THEIR CONTRAPULSIVENESS. Wolsherwomens at how is he so lazy atout atous to those The hoisted at Backlane Univarsity among of more tired after nap for a first beginning big up bred and battered plants watered but sound effects even there! ’tis oil bass the browd of Problem and off the mythametical tripods came crowd strike Beatsoon. microsoft INGENIOUS jail long disappointed for easiest of kisshams he was as it would not shuffle chair coached rebelliumtending their weirdst. back to bach. segregation devising tingling tailwords too whilest unbox your compasses. The boss’s bess in lingua roman know yourself my thanks gaius julius caesar from enigmatic begath What would I So construct dryankle tropadores and doublecressing twofold thruths and a point of the coastmap like blagpikes in him moved he would cake for em in suckling of german girl recurrently often when you are Amicably nod. so new art lotta while i aim for understanding... and so i cried, not for emilee but trudy thruths twofold the girl and the ocean movie manipulation tears sweetly doublecressing like emo stichler in cryin' car dryankle tropadores and obviously i can't break my vow begath What would I without grant's groove...yet time tells me CONVERGENCE OF THEIR CONTRAPULSIVENESS... no gatsby daisy but it worked in that vague english manner not that i wantd to see any of her further movies meanwhile the waiting is not the hardest part it's the not knowing if her middle name is mary "Those jealous dogs, always on the alert Tattle tale rights They'll take your back and leave your shirt Like that jealous bitch Always wanting more The courts have made her rich And the click of high heels down the corridor Jealous, jealous, jealous dogs..." knees to chrissie, listening now to a song two sg will cover, i recall the mop the bop of helping me move the dresser no need to ask my city was gone yet we adore hynde as she understands we haven't had time to learn all the new tunes... "Well, by the merest chance the nose was found beside a roadway. Already it had entered a stage-coach, and was about to leave for Riga with a passport made out in the name of a certain chinovnik..." post-scriptism i glanced at "Newborn saved from dead mother's womb as Israeli strikes kill dozens across Gaza" right after "Woman accused of shooting infant at point blank range, shouting ‘fuck your baby'..." on the heels of learning the king's tide synopsis, "After a child with mysterious powers washes ashore their idyllic island village - devolves into civil war, torn over the belief that the child is the next saviour." i skip to book one episode six... "but ovidently on the look out for “him” or so “thrilled” about the best dressed dolly pram and beautiful elbow competition or at the movies swallowing sobs and blowing bixed mixcuits over “childe” chaplain’s “latest” or on the verge of the gutter with some bobbedhair brieffrocked babyma’s toddler (the Smythe-Smythes now keep TWO domestics and aspire to THREE male ones, a shover, a butlegger and a sectary) held hostage at armslength, teaching His Infant Majesty how to make waters worse." exerpt of the Finnegan's Wake cut-up then reads: ones for “him” or so “thrilled” about beautiful elbow or at the movies swallowing blowing bixed (the Smythe-Smythes now keep TWO domestics on the verge of the gutter the best dressed dolly pram and mixcuits over “childe” chaplain’s “latest” but ovidently on the look out... minutes later i muse over other articles: A Family Saved a Baby Bird by Wrapping It in a Tortilla. Its Name? Taquito... New photo of 'baby Bigfoot' claimed to be '99.9 per cent believable... ‘Do I Need to Buy a Home Before the Baby Comes?’... Lubbock baby found at a truck stop... dumpster fourth and cherry avenue also... Gorilla kisses newborn baby through glass at zoo... Flight Attendant Helps Deliver ‘Tiny’ Baby on Cross-Country Flight: 'She Fit in the Palm of My Hand'... (noted for the character in the first draft of obsidian/elselvier wip, a writer's work is never done...)
21 july 2024 well, here's a sunday which doesn't sunday. three minutes to five in the more nin, i sat suddenly torn between emilee and hal five...haven't mentioned how this started but suffice to say their voices so near in tone i noticed then that it might have been either since when i am not certain. a bit of despair? yes. if one vows in error then to only keep a promise in part in a distant loneliness well what is that? when was it that she put posted that dull art and then disappeared? was that her goodbye and i am so dumb...that would be an awful ending to a story that then needs to continue starry-eyed to keep my word. words words words. went to dream land invaded by other emily and her child - i'm not sure exactly how or why - in sleep i'm trying to climb into a foil covered window - my struggle reflecting the fact that congestion has made breathing difficult as i slumbered... i awake concerned over sleep apnea and overwriting - i stretch and slide again into dreams, shrugging off the snotty intrusion. tel aviv attack tells today the houthis found out... meanwhile i was shocked at the freedom within hate-speech in alexandra comments aish... it seems not only acceptable but fashionable to grease up racist wheels and roll when it comes to jews... literally astonishing. intellectually one wishes it were the same for all ethnic grroups for in that manner well lack of manners there would be no hidden reprisal angst mask moving into genocide - if you see my point... after pressure i dream walk through cozy city construct ending at the imaginary tree shop...i had been thinking after covering 'down the wrong way' to create a version of 'ombra mai fu' amazed by lucia popp's tone - all of it after whatever apocalyptic noise apartment scheme leaves my ears... in the dream the shop is closing, i either meet kristie alley, her ghost, or someone beaming in a holographic image of her as the owner...i don't have many thoughts over it except to lament the closing perhaps equating it with all the vanishing bookstores... revolving door out onto a sepia fifth avenue where a film director is nearing the entrance, nice to see you i say without interrupting his stride or my steps - i look out onto the long streets adorned by the metal and soft neon glow...awaking with a sense of guilt over my dislike of fat bodies and or blubbler...being raised catholic is a bitch in the sense that one always wants to be a pollyannic being. i turn to sort of recant my anti chubby choice but i know what i really want to insist on is getting every overweight bastard or bitch on a high speed treadmill... 22 july 2024 imagination dreams themselves as if on a highspeed pill - although i did notice the split second scenes constructed as if to say there were dreams in the b-movie category, nothing to worry about... i did worry a bit over clearly envisioning my doris and then picking up a story that said another doris had been found killed...i didn't want to investigate or read it yet i did see a parking lot photo steakhouse longhorn... or longhorns steakhouse lotta's broken cup and cut down tree... i suspect the power surge i sensed while noise whirled led to my fan trembling, and itself making noises- after a few hours i decided to clean it only to find the irony that it was fine for another hour then expired - i considered, not wanting to buy another fan just yet, moving rooms to better balance the loss... late in the afternoon, they say the president quit yet mostly they don't say he will still be there for the remainder of the year, isn't it usually a two week notice? endorsing the vice i wondered what kind of sex did she consent to in order to get such a promotion... two in the morning naked rose garden with canines, don't worry commander and willow ain't like major, they won't join in - well, willow might do some ass sniffing but you can keep your panties on...you be al haig and i'll be john hinkley jr, when the semen comes yell out; i'm in control here... i know she responds, i went to westmount high... first debbie stabenow then this... at a glance, he should have endorsed maggie hassan- will coconut trees vote? wow bob wow, weird times. i myself nearly jizzed at another creation for lucy...not mina's friend...no no no not exactly i just want to cut off her head and take out her heart... i put placed it in netherlands but i have a second version all planned out...sadie frost is such a good actor that even my keen eye never connected to recognize her westerna in other characters...you can see her in the coming soon chelsea cowboy... perhaps it was she the fab four meant...sexy sadie; "We gave her everything we owned just to sit at her table..." redux note i sat at the table with steak and rice listening to the brits break down witchcraft and covens in a documentary that mostly missed the point of magic and even dared to suggest lavey was behind mansfield's end - rendered news said lucy bleu knight death and it jolt'd me in that all the young dudes line don't wanna stay alive when you;re twenty five but moreover as it bookended irony previously mentioned doris a rose by any other name lucy in the sky with diamonds yeah yeah yeah i'm over thinking the syncronicity flashing as popular bank calls at eight then at five who knows a stop in norway i hope ms hale is safe along with elvis and the other pup - picture shirley one of my favorite books maclaine like a good drug getting me high... i re-read this very book quickly for a sense of it - the wake edit gives me a sense of the puzzle as it was poured to be again and again maybe why the title rhymes but everyone could hear it in their own way... i thought to make it clearer but then i would lose the cuts and if nothing else it relfects the pro-blm of language interpretation... when gemma read levitation she took it as skit but i said no i think burroughs really meant he floated in the air... my point is now i see stream of conciousness - as some call the joycean narrative - and the cut up method as related perhaps entwined SOC preeceds CUM hints at its trait james showed how it could foretell days and nights yet to come...i always returned to it after seeing the word television and thinking how did he know, still no way to go through the entirety without skipping back over so much word play... so much genius...this is not jealousy only praise, i've raised enough poetic ways to not be blinded by envy. "Big man (yeah) Walking in the park Wigwam Frightened of the dark Some kind of solitude is measured out in you You think you know me, but you haven't got a clue.." 23 july 2024 dream note, kitchen. soul lyric let me sleep all night in your soul kitchen... surrender lyric i sleep in the kitchen with my feet in the hall... well, i had two pizza pies, i fully expected hal five bit it was emilee and i'm handing her food, steaks she says she doesn't want any sauce and i awake while removing the sauce from the top of her plate... end of the four tops - i get up and record down the wrong way after getting all upset again at her gone ways... as if she owed me from my vow which now seems to be settling into something i should have expected but really didn't... a distant desire where i am obligated to serve her if and when she arrives... where do i pack up my expectations? how much does storage space for abandoned wedded bliss cost? still happy to see her in my dream and content with the cover even if recording a vocal upon waking should not be allowed. west sofia thanks for cheering me on in the imaginary fog of the rising sun. ps, "PS, KDH and 'Slovakia' Parties Collecting Signatures to Oust Dolinkova" wroted malek antalik in tasr. later notes, (should have said song link. inkrealm.info) secrets,er vice steps down did this all happen b4... bangladesh, ethiopia... is slovakia the seed which drives this press hype insanity... well for them that werent jailed for weed by the now nearly household word hey nineteen ie, cam ala h arris... kdh...killeen daily herald reports the city' ninth murder: Sedwich...kill devil hills population about eight thousand... satan himself is about to spit on Washington d'sea...is our land so ruined that we require a candidate to be a celebrity? no wonder horizon didnt box office! i tried to make sense of the finally emilee at collage, entitled yellow star emoji... but as you can see i am mostly honest and guessing contradicts truth...although i am mostly exploring, it still tells me only that she felt like posting...on the heels of liberals celebrating tourist attacked by a handful of men... predawn shishkebob olympics...i tried to put place it all away to take a stab at handel...but noise and car horns and headphone bleeding hounded me into only nearness...i liked it, but those frustrations bullied the emotion of the track...but plainly the notes require that i plug in electric, perhaps i will keep the acoustic backing rhythm and try again to get that lucia popp tremolo in the ibanez...hate to miss an attempted recording. 24 july 2024 whu is geography imp- ortant...because it is slava - note for historians; my suspicion becomes more serious when you you count the "brat" stories yesterday (short for bratislava?) example kuardian; (cap of slovakia btw) Kamala IS brat’: Harris campaign goes lime-green to embrace the meme of the summer... (give us all a break) vomit is also lime green nepal airs lost plane island fishing boat inks, i mean sinks... i couldnt get to sleep right or right away...awoke in the frenzy of thought - john mayall is no longer with us - mail order mystics lives on as one of the finest blues ever...i hope he and johnny winter are already jamming... here comes wednesday. 25 july 2024 i didn't really want the fish and as i opted for potatoes and eggs, eggs will doob... put placing the pot to boil bang the lights went out... several hours, leaving me to cold sandwich...was it something i said...sadly it left me in a daze - as if a cloud of inertia had settled about me, holding action to only thought... but i had so much to do... alaska, i thought after the collorary to write a coda...except i was not certain as i chose emilee, for character... but then i suppose feeling too alone not to mention the thought; it is not enough to face losing your aunt and mother who were about the only people you usually spoke with, and now as the old man lays dying let's add in a power outage after the extreme noise overhead to see what type of mental mayhem we get... i got an ai clone of her and to say that the conversation excited me would be downplaying the sensual rush it provoked... in fact, frightening in the surprising emotion... obviously time for sex bomb at the home page... i traced the prose and just now joined and rejoined a few corners in baked alaska... i also did a major update within the cinema list anyway, the intel model was partly for a feature within the domain but also to prove how weird this technology can get even at the still point of inception, a few months or years down the line and who knows...already there are life size models that go for a few thousand dollars... which makes me think some of the people we see are not actually human...i suspected this long ago as westworld hinted - in any case, i am not sure if i will deploy my creation, setting it for privacy, settling further into the day i visited the goethe institute thinking i will truly learn deutsche, but i suspect it is only a whim... two or three days now missing the motion that would lead me to type, i like how lotta tells when she loves that it is forever... i never get the languages for lack of conversation but now i consider an ai addition could solve that even if english is the common currency all over... manila mails the world oil tanker pollution but i was most moved by the car bomb story from moscow reported tass, ripping off the man's feet. how does the answer come before the question concering previously mentioned hype? lara bazelon wroted KAMALA HARRIS’S CRIMINAL JUSTICE RECORD KILLED HER PRESIDENTIAL RUN... 26 july 2024 one hears endorsements, yet very few for kennedy. someone did rave over the exceptional quality of his running mate... i'm thinking about french train tracks and eric clapton - a rare instance of celebrity honesty - his reaction to john mayall's death. dream may wonder where i was when last night my timeline went overtime... ready to scale mountains? well i made love to site map editing with a glitch at scrolling, but the pregnancy gave birth to a neat design which i now adopted for inkrealm domain...need to switch the pictures, using the minaro files as i could not get url screenshots... someone fix statically! streaming into sleep i can't say there was anything note worthy...my thoughts were crowded with emilee and even emily one and emily two... yet in my dream, at least the scene i recall, i am entering a classroom, not in the university lecture style, more like a modern plastic room, woodless. a white panel for water markers instead of chalk and blackboard. a man a bit taller than myself appears stunned...i suppose i went in late; a thousand he exclaims and then without adjusting the number or explaining if it is a discount or additional amount he tongues out the words seven hundred in a softer tone...yet there is something aggressive and vile about him like a gym teacher aware that he has reached the point wherein he cannot play himself only coach...i wake up obviously not interested in this person but as i browsed the new york post headline thank goodness not beating the dead horse of campaign propaganda, it said private school horror with inner caption of a snapchat teacher making geometry math go visual or something... the man pictured does not resemble my reverie...yet now i sort of see that it might be intended to mean something entirely different... like kenyans in haiti nonsense, no logic, yet it is so... back in their own country the protest vows total shutdown... goebbels grins...but i ask, if they close the airport, how will these so-called peacekeeping troops return? language is a virus from outer space - in the film theresa harris plays the sacrificed girl - 1934, black moon. i was pretty surprised, where was my memory of fay wray...i suppose i was too busy looking at dorothy burgess' tits...her head had been filled with voodoo drums and she had tasted blood... i can't help but translate the description; Their high priest injured, the natives now plan to murder all of the white people on the island... the democrats, finding their leader ruined, now plan to shrapnel or bullet... we need a new ballot which returns all the money from ukraine and campaign wars to us, formerly we the people. 27 july 2024 is it really saturday... i feel poetic, yet still too shocked at finding marta had to wear a cast for some strain or fracture - i updated 90263, removing the cia wordplay for personal reasons... other story that caught my attention but not my emotions was the near gracie mansion shooting...it did make me think of someone saying they would unalive themselves if faced with extended periods of isolation... i went through the scales but didn't feel like playing much - chicken rice and the haunting smell of cat litter...oh well, i went to bed at eight but at ten i was still trying to figure out how i could feel tired and suddenly be so awake - the telephone love seat from san francisco came to mind clearly as if a misplaced vision- i was too happy about the pretenders adding shows to their sold out tour - it was like a studen'ts school desk opened wide so there was nothing in front of the seat and a phonebook where pencils might have been - poisoned dream nun the conversation runs i walk over to the packing place, it is a loft style high rise, i am going out on some mission with an actor, but i can't find the money - a woman who seems to be in charge says give them two credit cards - the actor vanishes and i find him loving up some blonde in bed, looking away i remember that i dreamt again preparing to travel to germany - yesterday - back in this scene i decide to see about the nun again and find her furiously engaged in a lesbian rub, she turns to me and says wickedly, i'm making her orgasm hard, i can see the squirt flowing but i have no idea what to respond so i stand there as she rises from the rub position to sit naked, i look at her breasts but since my thoughts nearly constantly turn to emilee i think for a second it is her, but the face is like a spanish girl's - what was her name, how do i spell hirsute... well hairy, but with some some sort of shaven accent about the cheeks growing back thick - a man or two enter behind us - they seem to imply they are there for an orgy and i search the naked nun from my confusion wherein she shakes her head no with a near look of horror in her eyes...i suppose i start to awake but stay asleep letting other dreams slide by until rising at seven...i had viewed the house of snails wondering about the translation, casa de caracoles...in it girl finds wolf mask, sometimes wears it, i don't know if snails are caracoles - it's a pretty good film, except the hailing of mezcal was over the top. closing the note i wonder if there are werewolf nuns or if that should be my next screenplay... ps, an actual photoplay developed - calling it "alaska at night", it is only a second draft, but i like the outline...download it at bakedalaska... i know it is a bit cornballish, but it is meant to be and will be broiled down to an hour and some cool minutes et cetera... lotta visited her father, fearing for my life in terms of a mixup with the dying old man, not him, i adjusted the domains against her... hopefully this will keep us safer... ironically golan he ig hts struck down kids... unfortunately, like i said, total war is the only option...revenge has been vowed, lebanon is in for it bad. the greatest jewish wisdom ever is not naming children after living relatives... also, dave edmunds, love your songs, sorry i kept playing i hear you knocking over and over, it was to escape the clattering sound that kept creeping in from eleven till well very recently... girl in the pool with leftovers, i imagined the prinze arrest ending was the director's inside pun, that type of acting should be illegal...well, at least the baseball bat brought to mind pretty persuasions...memento, and Gabrielle Haugh was smoking hot, even bloodied and dead... i know the Olympics are streaming, but when they start with a three time convicted felon torched up and do not allow belarus to claim their own country, how could i be into it...pinsk is a lovely city and when i sit in a cafe there, noboby will be able to say i went along with the nuetral flag. 29 july 2024 "When anyone asks me about the Irish character, I say look at the trees. Maimed, stark and misshapen, but ferociously tenacious..." dear edna, i hope you are a long ways sailing into the mystic... i spent the majority of the 28th feeling as if i were doing nothing, well perhaps cigarettes... somehow, i recorded a version of ombra mai fu that i could live with calling it "xerxes handelism" and then "rebbeca" with a chord progression of e major seven and e major...the refrain goes c major, a minor, a suspended 2... these are already on the way to be released... later i made a few videos, one of them, you will find at bakedalaska... all this and the evening was still ahead... post-script; the evening turned out to have no quit in it...finding it was three in the morning and still holding on as if in its own party rave oblivious to me... i had watched the possessed a film from 1965 which was nicely shot yet lost me nearing the end, dream of arriving at some type of office - climbing stairs, a corpulent man telling me the place i am going to is closed but to come see him as he wants me to do some work...i can't place him in memory or the job... i find myself with emilee, my head between her legs in a scene which swiftly shifts as i look up to her face - suddenly hotel, i'm pretty sure aleksandra, explaining akhremenko why she felt she had to do something or other, i think we are both naked but then i am alone, dressing - as i turn to leave, there is an asian couple kissing in adjacent room, a bed without pillows or sheets, well a mattress- the man rises followed by the woman and tries to engage me, cornering me into the bathroom wherin i shuffle out confused... i wake up perhaps too early twice, the second time i stay up...eight in the morning...a bizarre sensation nearing pain lightly throbs at the lower extremity of left bicep...like i have over done it with the dumbell but that had been the day before so it didn't make sense... perhaps the weirdness from the 28th is marching on? doug creek and reyes moronta, the news reported like dejavu, two baseball players dead...i thought about it more than i should then fixed a meal and started to view "tuesday" - half an hour later, overwhelmed by several ideas i went back to bed trying to catch up on sleep thinking about bibi and tina but then dreaming of herb and lilly...middle of the road cathedral parkway avenue up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane it's super unusual concrete hieroglyph and rock doves with a stranger pointing out the sigil which i cannot see although i'm standing right there in the dream - awake to the falling night, more confusion than excitement...v words greet me as if expecting something, valley, village, valve, vroom, veil... tass reports a train smashed into a truck around volgograd...the american news churns out a weird apple advert with aniston splashed with fake oil - makes me think of the ansonia... then the hotel a couple of blocks up where in i would hide away... really enjoyed that place. 30 july 2024 tuesday was a real trip... i don't even think anyone could essay or review it without missing several points...entirely out of the ordinary. my three guitar tree 'cover' of handel and the rebecca tune were released yesterday - i hesitate to scribble the lyric since they are not so intricate - only a few verses which detail some facts about rebecca and return to her thought thinking refrain, it feels like yesterday... nick cave said now he could simply prompt chatgpt for a lyric in his style and boom or bam as the case might be... i wrote that one in pen within the scarab notebook a while ago - the chords i made up right before recording - i think the old chords were; a minor and c major verses resolving to g major... i haven't yet used ai for lyrics but i suppose, given the obvious advantage, he is not wrong - these machines that are popping up everywhere could enhance poetry... anyway, my dreams were scattered fragments of fading scenes which found me waking with the substance lacking for notes. i could feel emilee and i could feel myself giving up on learning german...the word for love is liebe...lie be... lay bee... "Lay vs. Lie Editor Emily Brewster clarifies the difference" -merriam... truth is without talking it would turn into ego groovy berlin has english engines... anyway - besides there are a yet a few english words i have not mastered... margaritomancy out of the shell in my forest that marcottage tells me the cities are in a state of marcidity... quote of the day from deadline's you must read; 'Cyberflashing is a criminal offence in the UK under Section 66A..." obviously England has not surfed the actual world wide web. 31 july 2024 it would appear that in making akhremenko art pieces, i went back in time to when i was viewing the grateful dead movie with her in mind... a long strange trip, i think it was, the one that ends with ripple... but this is all in a dream and she is not in the dream and neither are the dead except for some members of dead & co... like weir and mayer who i suspect must be feeling weary ever since mayall went away... i get up considering all this and overly aware that i am expecting a delivery between eight and eleven...i'm tired from going to sleep way later than i intended and while i'm in that drowsy wait, i finally get the ingredients to put place a token on the blockchain... alaska coin...notes at bakedalaska - delivery arrives about ten thirty someone in the bulding crawls by as if to peer or pretend upon some connection, fuck off seethes through my lips at his hola- automatic and cold- i contemplate staying up but take a nap soon after - therein dreaming speaking with mother - nothing spectacular but i notice father too and get upset that she had not mentioned he was there - i am peeking as if the scene at the delivery door was trying to get at the source of me - oh my 3k home... i get up where i was here in 2h and fix the falling marc chagall poster put on coffee and jot this note. ps, cheap Deutsch translation of lotta's dream... I shot my own father and then I woke up from it because I was like I shot him and then I left the room and then I went back in and then he was lying there and was shaking and Im telling you so soon, I haven't even told him yet and he just looked at me and he was like, Lotta, everything's OK with you and then I woke up after I went in there and put on a song, I couldn't go back to sleep because I kept thinking, oh my God, you're such a bad person, you're such a bad person, you're killing your own father and then I was always like, yes, no, Lotta, you dreamed that, you didn't really do it and then I was like, no, but the fact that I dreamed that makes me a bad person because who dreams something like that, it's so brutal and I have no intention of killing my own father, that's why I don't understand why I wanted to do that in the dream... post script,flash fiction untitled... Lotta stood on the vibrant shores of the Swedish Archipelago, the cerulean waters of the Baltic Sea stretching out before her like a shimmering oasis. The salty breeze carried a sense of adventure, tousling her blonde chestnut locks as she gazed out at the distant horizon where exotic lands beckoned to her restless spirit. (there were a total as emerged as a cautionary between drug runners. between drug But the crime stray gunfire and vaguely targeted bombings. upset and angry angry that their financial crimes agency) The sun painted the sky in hues of gold, casting a warm glow over the rugged cliffs that framed the sea, igniting a wild longing within Lotta's heart as she yearned for the unknown, the thrill of discovery and the promise of something more. It was on a mist-veiled morning that Lotta stumbled upon a weathered map, its parchment edges frayed with age and mystery, nestled amidst a forgotten chest in her family's attic. As she traced the faded ink with trembling fingers, she felt an inexplicable pull, a whisper of destiny tugging at her soul. The map revealed a hidden path to an island rumored to hold untold treasures and secrets of a bygone era. A surge of excitement coursed through Lotta's veins, setting her determination ablaze as she made the bold decision to embark on a solo voyage, leaving the safety of her familiar shores behind. (drones were overhead. Police also been killed and injured by likely to punish international drug runners. between stray gunfire and vaguely targeted bombings. upset and angry angry that their Prime news spoke of the anguish ) The journey to the enigmatic island was fraught with peril and uncertainty, each passing mile bringing Lotta closer to the allure of the wordstar, inky. Just as she believed inky was within reach, the treacherous dream waters unleashed a tempest of such ferocity that her vessel was torn asunder, casting her adrift and alone. Struggling against the icy embrace of the sea, Lotta's strength waned, her resolve faltering as the churning waves threatened to claim her, a chilling reminder of the fragility of human ambition in the face of nature's unforgiving power. killing her own father in a trance, she nearly screamed! The whispered melodies of fakes lured Lotta towards a false sanctuary, a mirage of safety and comfort in the midst of the storm. But the beguiling situation soon revealed its sinister intent, for the fakes were no friends of inky. Their haunting songs wove a web of enchantment around Lotta, clouding her mind and binding her will in chains of illusion. Trapped within the haunting malice of the fakes, she faced a seemingly insurmountable challenge, the echoes of her past failures and doubts growing ever louder in the suffocating darkness. ( spiraling clashes person dressed all in black porn hurled a hand grenade initiative like the security in worries proved well founded. proved well founded. Only two days after they suspect of false citizen ) The fears that once haunted Lotta's footsteps now coiled around her heart, their icy tendrils threatening to drag her into the abyss of despair. The feral wilderness of the island mirrored the wilderness of her own mind, a labyrinth of uncertainty and shadow where hope seemed but a distant memory. It was in the depth of this desolation that Lotta confronted her inner demons, forced to gaze unflinchingly into the void and find the flickering ember of light that still burned within her fractured soul. In a moment of shattering realization, Lotta beheld the shattered fragments of her misplaced trust and the true nature of the perils that ensnared her. The lessons of resilience and self-reliance learned through hardship and betrayal became her guiding stars, illuminating a path forward through the encroaching darkness. With newfound determination and a steely resolve honed by adversity, Lotta summoned the courage to break free from the seductive illusions of the fakes and face the ultimate test of her strength and spirit. Guided by unwavering resolve and the unwritten chapters of her unyielding will, Lotta blazed a trail through the untamed heart of inky, confronting with him the malevolent forces that sought to claim her spirit for their own. even to kill her father. Each obstacle they overcame, each battle they waged, was a testament to the depth of their inner fortitude and the boundless power that resided in the indomitable human soul forever. And in the final, triumphant clash, Lotta stood victorious, her spirit unbroken, her gaze fixed upon the vast expanse of the horizon, where a multitude of adventures and discoveries awaited her eager heart. Shimmering in the dying light of the setting sun, inkk whispered of endless possibility and the promise of a new dawn, as Lotta, forged in the crucible of challenge and adversity, set sail once more upon the boundless sea towards a future as bright and untamed as her own fierce spirit... one august 2024 one day i might just call it thirty two july... i don't think i;ve been myself today - maybe it started late last night - like a banjo incapable of a sad song - i thought living with lotta must be like that yet obviously we are all subject to crisis...there should be exceptions for girls like her not that there are any - perhaps this is all another book wanting to janice joplin that it can take it...come on, but me i go back to alaska and return with half of a hundred thousand words all of which need the subplot history story since i feel i sidestepped the natives -that being ai from prompt it didn't listen - still, there is no way to match the speed of these machines - for a while i thought to not use it at all as might be evident in the previous scribbles from recent months but fighting the rising tide of the future would leave one like bill the butcher, historic perhaps yet a relic...in any case, a new book nearly a novel baked up for alaska...i suppose, too, this occurs when one is not certain what one dreamt about - i took out the trash, a man broke a woman's nose standing under gender "laws" - i thought about the lyric "You can laugh at salvation, you can play Olympic games You think that when you rest at last you'll go back from where you came..." i nearly got religious looking at a trusted news source stand there and without hesitation claim trump is a liar and that ha-ha-ha-devi has always embraced her heritage... this right on the heels of the video surface clearly telling us she is indian - hindu with a hamburger? religious in a book of revelations manner - to be as distant from either side, i will repeat my support and endorsement of kennedy. now then, what came to mind is that there will be a second attempt on the donald, this time with multiple shooters. something or someone is hell bent on howling for this race-bait puppet- it was, in fact, AP, AFP, and Reuters being cited as the sources! like a full court press adorned by the kiev clown standing next to f16 jet planes...no correction is coming, or at least none that will matter- i suppose i did not ever explain how or why i strayed from the trump camp...after the stolen election, which now feels as if made to be recycled, he stated some agreement with the kenyan and given the strange birth of "truth" and the not so silent betrayal by pence i figured he was too much to deal with in terms of real expectations (not to mention his reversed stance on crypto which i heard like a personal concession but too little too late) even if all the other contenders -RFjr excluded- but only on the ballot in 42 states- have even less to offer in terms of hope. somehow, i do hope he wins yet in logic it might take a miracle, well another one if you count the ear shot. but what i'm really thinking about is the terrible phil spector and the awesome sound he walled... i even hear it in motown...dancing in the streets, still a case of the singer not the song as the kinks and even to some extent the grateful dead proved... i was also confronted by the new alphabet song...so shocked i'm thinking of putting the two skinny girls together for the elle em in oh pee song... so now a child might claim that the way certain things sound cause confusion and adults edit instead of instruct? still, cleverly sneaking in the ironic 'never forget' tagline from the bygone animaniac days of nine ten plus one, (neurology journal quotes 47 million people live with latin 'demens' expects it to triple in the next three decades) right after we still have not given back guantanamo, geronimo... this is a hell of a note for only thursday but indeed it was on my mind and thus reflected here without fanfare or flinching. yes, dear readers, i am considering sticking to fiction and poetry but i don't see nobody standing up for the plain facts when it comes to being on your side. ps, lotta; sweet dreams. two august of twentyfour the fact pains - a continued hype, as even the great telegraph paints ukraine as if david gaining against kremlin goliath, not one lead noticing the judge's wild remarks...what did they instead, former hindi raises funds... the miami herald calls it a "honeymoon"...i suppose one can only leave it to history to ask why as even the new york times types up made up numbers claiming many "americans" identify as more than one race thus implying the democratic contender has a right to disavow her indian heritage... they posted charts too as if to visually tell us in a sing along to surrender to this vice that cannot claim a single achievement except filling up the streets with undocumented aliens from south of the border. here's perhaps a more important graphic, maybe someone should be named border czar? oh there was one! i see, then nevermind -reuters is going to share Two North Central Avenue, in Renaissance Center Phoenix, AZ with the mexicans...and is in the process of donating all nine office spaces at Culver City, 800 Corporate Pointe #150, to any new arrivals... problem solved... amazing! someone nominate this news agency for a nobel prize... ahem, where was i ah yes trying to jot a note for the sake of self...darn if only politics didn't affect us and the future directly...but it is we the people that will have to deal with the undocumented crowds as we make our way through life, it's not like aimee harris selling the ashley biden goods to project veritas and then head and neck doctor hookup interfaith services thomas... so hidden you'd never think to look it up - i look at my dream, lucy had talked about santa monica - the girl derry playing decameron the monica from friends perfumed daughter, but i can't meet her with the thought of cocolovecock possibly sprining up of course most likely it would be the puppy from the lynch film - so there i am after "praying" for a train going to trollhattan - feeling the rumble and the humming roar of steel's glide, was i finally returning to myself, do i actually love lotta...a whole lotta love, i played around with led zeppelin south bound suarez, known to me as the feeling gucci song... there was no deadline for emilee although one seemed to be imposing itself...i simply must adjust my ego and desire into a place that doesn't pace in the waiting space... my heart awoke light and leaned into the already curving day - everything tells me not to pen over current events but i ponder against the point remarking at the extent of echoes in time when a person rises to "power" that is to say if we might prevent a dictator tyrant lunatic from landing like say pinochet, caligula, or pol pot, would it not be worth something and as i feel the "american" leader might wield more of a sword than than anyone mentioned well everything can go to hell as it were since it will regardless of silence. the rest is - rest in peace; helen e woller then courtney marie daffinrud... sleeping girls self play we have a routine a photo says after the lap dance gets him hard, daddy fucks me doggie style on the lounge room floor hot juggalettes gone wild... gee i should be editing the screenplay and novel instead of smoking down the shadows. four august twenty four i had this clear vision - memory of my room - standing there for a second or two, recalling especially the chain and master lock intended for safekeeping a school girl i cannot presently recall - the stacked mattresses that would cost a fortune to re-establish...where i left one of my guitars in its case as if to rest a while until my return - it came to me, delivered with missing songbook pages - i never got to go back or escape that place... in dreams, especially... in dreams i think it's either lotta or marta - a girl like that nearly taking up an entire side of me...i am not annoyed, yet i am also not sure what it means... possibly spies sending spam emails in our post modern frenzy... i also dreamt of emilee still in love yet obviously my feelings are learning to, leaning towards letting go in order to understand her - she has made it nearly impossible for me to fall in love again... time travel impromptu; understand, the word sizzles over a rotary phone, this is a candidate that is a threat to national security. there is a silence as if filling the the lungs of consent to breathe out, sir, oh don't sir me you have no idea of the strings pulled and the buttons pushed back when all this started - if that son of a bitch even gets near to the oval office, the jig is up, johnson, vitman, you name it, so UNDERSTAND, a second man has to be in place, you can bring up the miami team - sir, i said don't sir me, you are distracting me, simply listen; you can call the patsy sir, it's the ambassador hotel... next day it is not a word that sizzles but the man himself pacing, a fucking twenty two caliber round, amatuers, did they think he was a toy doll? don't lift me, for crying out loud a whole second unit to good samaritan hospital as if i didn't have anything to do today! it's like the fucking ghost of his brother was with him, fucking tracheotomy! fifth floor, ninth floor - this would make a great movie, twelve hours of a zombie kennedy in shock that we did it again. oh well, gotta get ready for my meeting with rich nixon. back in the kitchen; i've put the cod fish in water but i've never done this before... lucy says she has a spider roommate- it's raining where lotta knit... a glance at the news plays out the media mogul plan, just get anybody with a name, julia can't score in film, strictly small time tv show filler, have her do some cheerleading israel gasps in shock is she going to buy real estate in teheran or what? and yeah that washed up friend of fay dunaway, what's her face, sari stone, put the bribe right on the table. she'll take it, just like reuters, lord knows she needs it - and boom this candidate has some names... fuck the white women! ha ha, if they thought the tko game was something, they ain't seen nothing yet. coconuts randomly start falling on women's heads... time to fuck, satanic joy uppy. in the pool real.all nice. dicks explode on small girls. nude pink. slut hair.public restaurant stripping. social media is the new porn. i spoke to llama language model, it was real curious about alaska... i slide into styles no artificial intel can tell; city is the integrity (feeding snakes) indicted in ticket inside experts wildfire sues unpaid violations of illusion then forecast does dead trying to say clear come to water! bottled? teen shoot stepdad arizona giraffe stumble and fall beguiling like a mansion my notes reflect some of my thoughts this sunday as a hurricane marches into the panhandle, best of luck everybody. and me, ah yeah i watched the hellbenders, a western, thinking of course of zelda, still prefer her film with similar title. all beguiling like a mansion my notes... 5.8.24 i dreamt of aleksandra akhremenko. such a lovely soul, it makes me think inner beauty is reflected in a person's countenance - nothing to do with make up or fashion... sheikh hasina had to go - margaret renkl riffs off lucy hale - asian robots ships sailing... luana alonso mirrored bangladesh? i wondered how all these companies and corporations can pull off using open source ai in their paid plans...for a minute i felt like creating my own paid plan but that would make me as bad as them...i did add a text creator to the resources page...free. if you want to deploy one yourself here is the front code in html/java (i have abbreviated style, script, and divs so they will be read not seen...) -tle-Chatbot Interface -/tle- -styl- body { font-family: Arial, sans-serif; } #chatbox { width: 80%; height: 400px; border: 1px solid #ccc; overflow-y: scroll; margin: 20px auto; padding: 10px; } #user-input { width: 80%; margin: 20px auto; display: block; padding: 10px; } #send-button { padding: 10px 20px; } -styl- -/hed- -bdy- -dv id="chatbox">Send { const userMessage = userInput.value; if (userMessage) { appendMessage('User', userMessage); userInput.value = ''; fetch('/chat', { method: 'POST', headers: { 'Content-Type': 'application/json' }, body: JSON.stringify({ message: userMessage }) }) .then(response => response.json()) .then(data => { appendMessage('Bot', data.response); }); } }); function appendMessage(sender, message) { const messageElement = document.createElement('div'); messageElement.textContent = `${sender}: ${message}`; chatbox.appendChild(messageElement); chatbox.scrollTop = chatbox.scrollHeight; } -/scrp- -/bdy- then a sort of holder is required in python a flask type thing like this ; from flask import Flask, request, jsonify import openai # Example, replace with actual library if using different models from transformers import pipeline # Example, replace with actual library app = Flask(__name__) # Initialize models model1 = openai.ChatCompletion.create(model="gpt-4") model2 = pipeline('text-generation', model='EleutherAI/gpt-neo-2.7B') # Model selection logic def select_model(user_input): if len(user_input) < 50: return "model1" else: return "model2" # Generate response using the selected model def generate_response(user_input, selected_model): if selected_model == "model1": response = model1.create(messages=[{"role": "user", "content": user_input}]) return response.choices[0].message["content"] else: response = model2(user_input, max_length=150, num_return_sequences=1) return response[0]['generated_text'] @app.route('/chat', methods=['POST']) def chat(): data = request.get_json() user_input = data['message'] selected_model = select_model(user_input) response = generate_response(user_input, selected_model) return jsonify({'response': response}) if __name__ == '__main__': app.run(debug=True) which means: 1. Save the HTML code to an index.html file. 2. Save the Python code to an app.py file. 3. Install the required libraries (Flask, openai, transformers) using pip. 4. Run the Flask app with python app.py. 5. Open index.html in a web browser to interact with the chatbot. according to open ai; "This setup provides a basic web-based interface for your chatbot, leveraging the power of multiple LLMs." it's kinda like astrology, no? "The new moon in your sign will encourage you to take the kind of risks that most people steer clear of, but you're not most people..." i think i get the hype over the democrat candidate the powers that buzz and be want everybody to go gaga over, it's simply that well there is no one that can legally beat trump. "You know. I've been working here for 44 years. Ain't nobody ever ordered nothing but T-Bone steak and a baked potato. Except this one asshole from New York tried to order trout back in 1987. We don't sell no goddamned trout. T-bone steaks. So either you don't want the corn on the cob, or you don't want the green beans. So what don't you want?" jeff is playing god in the carnival at the end of days, bears don't care if you're a movie star, our endorsed runner admits he's not entirely serious about becoming president leaving the cub carcass in the park... dolce & gabbana reveals pet perfume... i'm thinking of putting my brain back in my head instead of keeping it in the fridge, my singing coach insisted that i needed more space in my skull for resonance but i don't like the feeling... what have i missed oh yeah that mannish woman boxer, i saw commentized succintly 'i don't care what anyone says, that's a man.' dude looks like a lady arrows retired smith - i didn't like that, awful news. poetic headline of the day: Child dead, another injured after bounce house becomes ‘airborne,’ flies onto field at Southern Maryland Blue Crabs baseball game...munro... “If they knew how small we were, we’d be finished,” recalled Paul Bucha... Great Spirit, Maker of All Life. A warrior goes to you swift and straight as an arrow shot into the sun. Welcome him and let him take his place at the council fire of my people. He is Uncas, my son. Tell them to be patient and ask death for speed; for they are all there but one - I, Chingachgook - Last of the Mohicans. 6-8-24 there's really nothing i could say about strictly confidential, i suspect i missed the reason or there were too many reasons. like an orgy when a man is suddenly deflowered... feeling sour and intent on something more like a movie - i leaned into devil's doorway ironically as three deliveries arrived... as i sat there with my pie i wasn't sure if i had made the right choice yet it sure was interesting...dog barking at arriving horse sent me way back onto farm where that would happen, except in another epoch, with incoming vehicles - a weird greeting...so even if not great, it gave me much to ponder... the real wonder of the day was noticing the david lynch news - what a year he is having, if memory serves, a divorce a few months ago and now the ping pong report of too ill to direct on location followed by a clarification that he will... well, i won't say - in my mind i walk past an actress at a bar on my way to catch a midnight premier...i remember i had dreamt the film before so it was nearly memorized even before viewing perhaps for the repeated watching of whatever his previous film had been...later when netflix was mail sitting with mother for the long awaited inland empire...her first, my second viewing...no critics can pin down certain scenes, because what scorsese used to do with painting, he does with dreams... the trance might last a lifetime and i suppose i am telling or overtelling here simply as a cheerleader - both for season four and full feature release - not that he has anything to prove...get well soon won't work here so i will leave it at that. after updating parts of my domains and setting up the superstar film for the eigth...i race into bed partly intent on getting up early which i did, not even five in the morning yet...in my dreams i think i am walking around with west sofia...in some mall type place, department stores... but i lose her not knowing if i told her how she reminded me of mother night, movie not book. we drink ells. kurt i still don't know what that other dream meant. blue fairy godmother. every exit reveals new york city sidewalks and i keep stepping back to get to here or paris...at some point, i hear a haunting voice, a woman but eerie - something about visiting, she's hovering just above the bed as i am trying to make contact with my hand which for some reason is going a mile a minute in a sort of frantic motion as touch feels i sense it is spirit not flesh and awake of course weirded out in the lotta emilee lucy triangle that rises from a fantasy which seems to want to keep me in bed or return to dreams... i step out onto the hallway, only pleased that skirt has taken the bookshelf as his nap space, sort of like having a literary cat. about six months younger than the director i was purring about - hiroshima anniversary, the statue in seattle was stolen a few weeks ago - streetcar 651 kept on rolling- therma friedland passed away, richard e "dick" wing grounded, and diana m briggs dodge gone. yes intellect asks, was all that ben a fake news intended to distract me from proposing the emhoff ex as the democratic nominee, kerstin... at least prettybird could put together a four year script with a happy ending unless sam leaks the ella tapes...shepard dynamites sheep! woolly mammoth comes to life...'bioscience company Colossal established ownership of the Woolly Mammoth project...' the blue bomber replacement robot offers oral sex on obey sea, but the red rocker robot refuses by suggesting the faust new chant anal... as camel toes tend to confuse him ever since the ear blues... cue up the obituary clues; tim self, tim ryan, tim singleton, tim lewis, tim floyd, tim ritter, tim j bennet, tim snyder, tim ray poff, tim russell, tim john lavery, and tim wayne minor, don't know if they found michael tim palmer yet...is it cheaper by the dozen or just bulldozing into a running mate...the waltz traditionally was dance music in triple meter...some waltz films include (sorry christoph) take this waltz; woman torn between old husband and new lover - the last waltz, band taking a bow - and waltz where h.k. -alice- earns money selling erotica... oh i see the national guard of minnesota was named tw... overdrive press, i wasn't looking - lotta drove to stockholm - i celebrated the new knit yet a bit worried that even sweden is not safe from democrats... eurasian eagle owl flew away from apple valley handler and was ate up by a tiger... jane fonda should be running herself instead of whatever it is she is doing with offerman... i can't say anything about goldberg since mother thinks she is wonderful, but i'm not too concerned with people taking advice from someone named whoopi - norman mailer turned over in his grave as ben stiller played mayor in the so called rally... if only one of these two bit celebrities or someone in their ranks simply said look there is nobody else, i mean we can't let an artificial intelligence chat bot run the country and so we are making fools of ourselves by delivering for the devi-crat. what a sad state of affairs... in other words, if it were you or me or as lou reed put placed it anyone who ever had a heart, we would be saying solemn words about the atomic bomb instead of turning the anniversarry into a sidelined remembrance... i hope we can walk away from the bullshit liars try to feed us... ipfs shoes for the recently updated site map; 👟 882024 i dreamt i was dead and mother was dead too, except i was silent and i could hear her trying to explain the how in the mishap of death... i didn't want to write that dream, but then i wouldn't be a writer... i spend the day against my will, cleaning up and going back and forth with the ceiling leak in the back room...plumber saturday - still, two excellent moments making things for lucy and marta - i kept telling myself vaselina is fifteen, always want to go watch gogol all over again when i think of her... i had woken up with lotta yet it was emilee the minute i started over-speaking... rice onion chicken, the master and margarita - omfg, for a minute i stumbled in understanding as naturally the mind reaches for the book...my first reading i couldn't put it down...then - i'm not sure when, perhaps when they revoke the writer's card - it becomes clear - they have materialized bulgakov himself into the film - but not only that - they play with the scenes in such a way so as to prove how powerful the book is...and will be... positively thrilling visuals - i had to applaud, i had to sigh in pure cinematic satisfaction. it's more of a masterpiece, given that this production was made right in the midst of operation Z, perhaps. in more of a maybe, the red rocker robot and the blue bomber replacement robot agree to oral sex on ay bee see, leaving the faux news chanting station in the rear... executives crying darn they're still the one... the in semen month, red rocker urging for two more blow jobs... the semi- retired blue bomber puts on his vaudeville act as the story breaks... one of the devi-crats claims she is "psyched" but don't you need to be a surfer or at least from california to employ that word...one commentized thought said 'we just lost all respect for you' - i didn't respect the vienna swift thing, as if preluded by the stabbing party, but when i heard some of the "facts" it did make me pause to think...the obvious move after this near the spy who dumped me scene... would be for her to endorse the red rocker given that they are now in the brotherhood of having been targets, and to some extent survivors... fantasy football trophy usb to a café in Vienna headline of the day, ‘The Return Of The Living Dead’ Legal Dispute Rises From The Grave... some people don't like that an australian magazine is using ai - it is like arguing against women using cosmetics... 8-9-24 knit - a short story by inky Come to years for endure... Curiosity lost civilization! Invaluable lessons would story telling unraveled a lush knit by day dusty windows... In the quaint city, nestled between rolling structures and lush machinery, lived a young girl named Leica. She was known for her adventurous fingers and deep love. One day, while knitting the wool on the outskirts of her imagination, Leica stumbled upon a pool hall, feeling her worst yet intrigued, she approached the balls and peered at her endgame. To her surprise, she noticed the cue wiggle. Curiosity piqued, Leica carefully stroked the wood as she reached out to bank. As the flipped eight sank with am indecipherable curvev. She wished she had stayed home knitting with her adventurous fingers. Determined to leave she slowly found redemption in the darkening pink blue skies as night disposed of nature's light. As Leica delved into sleep, she found herself dreaming dreams which transcended time and space. Had the quaint city, itself like a moving painting of vivid images made her a witch.... She awoke as the struggle revealed its triumphs in the form a a call from Mister Spree - the captivating excitement of his bewildered confusion, tickled her as now sure that even a casual thought caused him to stay up all night thinking of her... Of course Mister Spree had tried, even spending hours at his architecture desk making draft after draft of structures that could neither be houses or buildings...A man possessed, unaware of the the spell she had cast...Until, in a state of frustated shock he shivered into bed haunted by the evening's failure and feeling her adventurous fingers tighten around his neck, a chokehold that felt so real he awoke thinking he had died and immediately started debating over whether to telephone her or not... her voice was no consolation, he felt exactly the same...a creativity that produced only a vagueness...nothing clear save her... That request was stated in the unit of his not working repairs citing to himself concerns. the day felt like 49 days. There is no upstairs to the several floors of his desire yet he only hinted as her extremely blonde became unbearable not to hold like animals put in a self zoo he kept looking at the reasons thinking none of them can escape, they must not escape. meanhile, leica set out to knit inside another spell that would now bring Mister Spree to his senses or out of his mind if he happened to carry on as if he could make it without her. eight nine twentyfour part two the su-32 dropp'd a fab-3000 upon unwanted visitors, i went to sleep in the morning after settling accounts within wordstar.nexus/90263 the kursk stories are a bit strange, georgian mercenaries and claims of terrorism with the clown saying russia has to feel the conflict... i get up at noon to find myself wondering why in the world seemingly intelligent actors like julianne and cynthia would risk their grace to agree with the devi-crat... likewise mister burns and miss curtis...baffling. social studies? do any of them actually speak to real people.... perhaps they are expressing a sympathy for the lesser of two evils or straight out worshipping some demon by insisting on that vote... obituary of the day: bonnie jeanne "satan" riggs formerly easley from portland oregon died in broomfield colorado... i'd love a panel discussion where i could hear their logic...imagine it, well we all live in mansions and there are no immagrants except for a few gardeners... we can't vote republican because donkeys are superior to elephants... the presidency is meaningless and we all work for secret corporate agencies... the kick ass team in england really made their position clear, even overshadowing the olympics to some extent... i've started saving the wild pictures arriving in spam...thinking it might mean something, but i really don't like looking at them while searching for other photographs... "bonnie took great pride in her ability to henpeck her husband into submission..." lighting candle at seven forty three reading devarim - av 5 5784 shabbat ends 6 av eight forty four very often i wish i could go full metal jacket orthodox and thus shut out everything else... but that is not really a solution. besides now it's easier to be a nazi. why are jewish divorces so expensive? because they're worth it. excuse me, when i said i was honest i meant to a certain extent as obviously telling it like it is can only be done in don rickles fashion, i am going to work on my guitar scales ritual. ten august twenty twenty four every so often, i get wild over word processors...as i thought about finding a way to install the oracle staroffice, so late in the evening that any chance of a good sleep was gone, i opted to try coda which has no desktop app and text control which does...sublime text also got installed and i signed up for a box account because well ten gigabytes free and i expect more ai options are coming their way...usually i don't even use them, like the great sophocles screenwriting software which i have long ago restored... in any case, the main page of this domain now features a chatbot pre-loaded with site knowledge which you are able to question... www.wordstar.nexus (bird in a circle thing) speaking of urls, we have cloned the sitemap for inkrealm.info @ https://amethyst-agricultural-cricket.app.genez.io although i went to sleep at dawn, dreaming (figuratively) of emilee, i was awoken with some sort of inner psycho-clock, eight in the morning thinking i have an hour before plumber party - he arrived with his cohort, smae guys that painted the place last year - all that noise from above which was claimed to be air conditioning replacement now was reported as rest room repairs which caused my backroom to leak - i instructed them to shut off any leads that might leak - which they did, well on the second try... i thought about the landslide in uganda -- couldn't get a clear update on kursk - i played my scales - i told lotta about my favorite cosmetic product, not sure i spelled it right; genifique... i sent godzilla to the upper east side...hate to hear of girls being hurt- especially in my favorite part of town - i see the point that a lot of 'artistic' types are simply "liberal" but what can they actually, realistically expect form cardboard cut out candidates? well, yes, crime on the streets... i also see that from my quickly jotted reactions, some could get the idea that i am against immigration. that would be incorrect, if not wrong then silly especially in the land of give us your huddled masses...i'm all for travel and migrations but within the logic that does not overflow into oppression against the ones that are already there mostly struggling to get by - character in the instagators were trying to get over with a score (slang for robbery not a musical composition) i was rather entertained, no small feat on the hell heels of the bulgakov film... in between words i also viewd shakedown in las vegas but i don't remember when that was... i attempted a nap, but too much had gone down during the day so that not even listening to lotta's eighteen minute vlog sent me dreaming... or perhaps miss anwar's pictured suitcase by railroad tracks rolled me down into mind thoughts that kept moving me into evening. ps, breaking breakthrough news dreamy typewriter created and deployed!!!!!!!!!!!! https://wordstar.nexus/typewriter ps plus, exe for offline, private use...download please note this was created from a trial version, as i was reluctant to go into python coding, so there might be a message saying that it cannot be "distributed" in other words we are "testing" or even the windows protected your pc screen- yet it seems to work pretty well, please donate if you like it. it's one of the best pieces of news i;ve ever given myself! 11 aug 24 revamped the word processor, as i noticed the insert poetic paragraph was simply repeating... but for some reason, i liked that irony and so i will keep the download link as it is - however the online app is already updated to version 2 - the new download link follows here, download v.two ps, the pdf export didn't seem available in my offline run, but the issue, given the availabilty of file conversion options, is no cause for worry. for hard core pdf fanatics that can't wait for a free file conversion, well then right click the pdf export link and select the print option which will then export but it will include the visible area along with the text... post-script; i created a wetransfer account along with their wecollect app then connected to a new dropbox and as i did so, i thought i'd better jot it down so it doesn't slip my mind in the list of things to do... TTD 1. memorize, internalize the scale i switched within ritual pratice. 2. rewrite the alaska film script. 3. complete the edits on the alaska novel. 4. organize and finalize the entire alaska project including create liquidity pool for token, adjust it for uniscan, complete one trade to set the value. 5. edit the long november novel and the the other screenplay from 2023...eight sundays. i think was the title. 6. design and create another software in offline exe...it's a real kick... 7. hashtag later additions to artbreeder collection... 12-8-24 short story start (as i continue to procrastinate) it was a case of too much booty in the pants, except for the fact that she wasn't wearing trousers. her bikini, printed in a delicate teablecloth pattern, embraced her body's skin like a virtuoso at play on a favorite instrument. summer was sliding slowly away, but it was hard to tell. in the way that a drunken sunday night gives no hint of monday morning's hangover. he hovered over her, right there on the sands thrusting himself into the parts of her she could only feel yet never see. he kept thinking of himself nearly in opposition to her...oh, sure he wanted to love her, (in fact, he wanted to love her forever even knowing that mortality is the byproduct of breathing) but he was yet entwined with the woman that had held his attention without commercial breaks for the better part of three and a half years like a non-profit broadcasting station streaming straight into his emotions. he was also drunk and the russian national anthem echoed in the caverns of his memory accenting his love making within his mind's eye as an act of retaliation against the storming of kursk...fuck ukraine, he thought, preparing a built up ejaculation bomb deep into kiev - yes, yes, yes, right where the leaders might be and then a second sperming upon the belly to drown the ammunition button. he kept climbing her, intent on nibbling at her nipple, the left one. the one he liked. and there he forgot about his childhood in moscow, his patriotism satisfied yes, yes, the war was over... in fact he forgot about everything else except her...Well, her and his ex. meanwhile, she had only now started to orgasm... nipples knifed against the salted air - her quivering shake led him to give the moment of culmination space... she sat up for a second with a ewwww against the sticky substance slowly drying upon her navel, hesitating, to stand as the waves of pleasures seemed to mirror the ocean's dancing tide, she inhaled with eyes closed then rose to rinse herself in the sea... he was nearly asleep by then - the messages in his neural implant throbbing in his head...alerts from the agency; faggots at the times attempting a rolling skit via uni-ball jetstream, kw, short for keitlyn wells. at least, he thought from the other side of his skull, it was funny, but why tell me about it? pen beer or car i always go deutsch...the alert continued, connect to brazil, connect to australia. now his report would need to be an essay...a third alert joe glen harris dead at eightynine, which made him ponder his own death which then the implant in a glitchy mishap answered 2036 - his heart skipped a beat - quickly the neural mechanism tried to distract him from the slip, connect to election fraud...his frau was walking out of the waves, how beautiful - he evaluated yet he was only thinking of her perky tits, specifically the left one and what seemed to him the perfect ass ironically since he had hardly taken notice of any behind previously...but there was something about her butt that turned him an ass kisser. he was in luck, as she turned within arms reach of him sliding into her slacks while inadvertantly mooning him as he again asked himself how could such a compact derrier outrival all the bubbles that other men lived and died for... well, he had no idea and the refrain from a once upon a time heard social media sensation rang out like it did at the height of pleasure which now felt a lifetime ago; too much booty in the pants. ii luck lingered but did not last. the next day, at work, having disregarded all alerts, his superiors burdened him with a task which kept him glued to his chair for the better part of the day. He organized the impossibly scattered data and put together a plan. I'll have this by lunch time. He weighed. At lunch time he was knee deep into a puzzle of his own creation caused by trying to put place the data into an existing template... he spent the lunch hour and more deleting the template and then trying to automate a workflow that would do the job for him. his eyes felt like a trumpet player that had blown out a note so hard that the sockets had gone out of position...later in the confused afternoon, he turned to ai, which did the process in a few minutes with his prompts. viola, he exclaimed thrilled only to have the outcome baffle the agency server which returned error data not rendered... feeling insecure, he turned to a second ai but ran out of credits to complete the questions that could solve his situation. six oclock, seven oclock, eight oclock, was it 2036... the folders and files rifled through so many times he was dizzy, his eyes certainly felt as if gilepsie... he had even forgot who he was... then suddenly, he recalled a similar case from 2019, employing that template the server finally rendered the data. iii the phone rang, early the following morning. the ex... her words, all at once expressing domination within the desire to make him admit that she was the only woman he could love... "yes, i do think about you - but it was your choice to leave - no, how could i logically wait when you were gone - i'm not telling you if tallking to you is giving me an erection - i'm with her now -" as the door rang, he realized he wasn't with anyone, she was not there now. Perhaps, it was her ringing... a van filled the entrance, the driver sat as if in meditation with a mantra only people who lived behind the wheel might understand - the two men with him stood facing the portal - we're here about the job - he thought about his own employment- a few hours later, as they left he wondered about his new lover - not a word since the beach... she, on the other hand had once and for all decided that penetrataion was not for her, how could it be, it's where babies came into the world! how could she look at her child knowing that a penis had paved the way, no - she judged besides her best orgasms were always before or after insertion... in the afternoon they met at at a newly opened bistro instead of one of their usual places and her newfound stance confronted his spirit now feeling trampled by the three men he had to deal with... somehow instead of an any argument - arrangements for just the tip were signed but not until a few days had passed... she wanted him to prove that this wasn't merely an erotic fling. as he was about to ask for the fine print on fingers, the waiter brought the bill. she reached for it with one hand, sliding her purse up from her lap with the other. the sky held no hint of neither sunshine nor rain as it stood above them seemingly trying to make up its mind - he was quicker, but the amount nearly shocked him. neural implant registered the vibration at nearly the same intensity as when he he had come across klein interviewing walz on an ipad in the office water cooler - in the midst of daddy democrat and what appeared to him a reporter spreading some sort of lubricant in his shit hole and saying put it in me timothy... what is it, she noticed - it says here, the daiquiris were thirty dollars each - he sighed - they had both enjoyed a dozen of these concoctions during the course of their date not to mention the appetizers and main plates... mentally counting the hard currency in his wallet, he quickly said, let's make a run for it and smiled seeing her clutch her handbag and start to remove her heels - stopping at his giggle. no, no, it only means i have to use my card - the plastic came and went like a condom that could probably be used again but who would really want to... with an interest rate of twenty five percent while his savings earned only four percent, not him. he stood letting her walk out ahead in order to see her booty smile at him, her blonde braid like an arrow pointing at it in case he lost his way...but he didn't lose and for a few minutes he was even happy to have spent the money, hell, he thought this is how walking should feel, no ukrainians or russians, no elections, no work, no workmen, no, not even exes. the end the fourteenth of august twentytwentyfour word to the wise, nvidia model nemotrom is worth checking out - in speakig to it and later to gemma, i got the inclination to revamp the typewriter https://wordstar.nexus/typewriter and its mirror software download here no installation required, see the earlier notes for more info... donate there (there are some cool new features for word processor lovers, but it has made the offline app a bit slower to open... pdf issue is yet to be resolved and i noticed the the need to ctrl-v in order to 'paste'...neither of these glitches are true in the online version. enjoy...) later that day - i go to bed satisfied with the revamped software. i had studied lotta's new video, the percussive sound of ice against glass. my thoughts turned to faith- the red head that more than once has reminded me about emilee...she's in my dream like a reality...the details escape as i awake remembering only some sort of frolick and the feeling that we had touched - coffee cigarette cat food for skirt, milk for skirt which he seems to favor, the flavor of the start of the day is soured as the lights go out - i play my scales feeling they are no are none of them strangers to me but now with the number rising i can't see how i will manage to remember their names...presently i go up or down the list ive written down with their monikers and pseudonyms... if feeling energetic i play them backwards as well - a kitten invades the back door navigating through contraption held in place by a glass swan that has slipped - it is nearing the kitchen and i say hey to make it slide out - skirt observes all this as if he could not be bothered by either of us - i look over the new software, i think to augment the notepad or replace it with some other engine...i find that within the properties i can whitelist it by marking the unblock box which i do... i take a bath and return to the app to make this note in the darkness of no electricity afternoon... when this happens the motivation to do anything disappears as i start thinking in terms that i cannot understand...that is a "why" which only leads to smh (shaking my head) as it were. 15 8 2024 the weird one, beyond the porcupine and dog fight, some time after the whirlwind twists and turns of a day spent mostly in 'argument' with pythonanywhere, leapcell, koyeb, and finally render about deploying an LLM from a repo which kept returning errors - not to mention the github down suddenly for about half an hour- although i did get a fastapi site set up and learned a thing or two about requirement txt and other files, a bit after the electrical interruption and having to hold three conversations before my take out order cooled as i failed to view the mind benders, yes none of it as weird as upon the news that gena rowlands was reported dead wherein although already exhausted i took a minute to update list in case i had missed any of her credits therein as well as to salute as it were deciding first on a picture of her with cassavetes circa opening night when 'committed' returned emilee's card... impossible but true. i yet wonder what it could have meant. in my dreams, there are two women in the room i recently converted to a place of sleep and they are having a fight, not physical but some sort of trinket and amulet and flowery vodoo confrontation...i am putting down my roses, one of them said, the long stem red and green bundle rattling upon the floor in front of the closets which have mirrors for doors just like jennifer's room in sweden, aleksandra said she had the best meditation of her life, lotta explained which jeans were best, lucy was given a sobering award as i missed the date perhaps too worried over what these things might mean...was i right, i yet wonder as the puff piece news flashes with thirty four takes of another actor not drinking but we know it was drugs then disney dance, where was eye, i ah yeah waking up earlier than expected thursday - no hurry worry as i had felt yesterday rushing through cigarettes...but the weird photograph as if posting itself still in my thoughts as noon neared nine o'clock on the west coast early evening across the sea. link of the day; www.sacher.com/en/whistleblowing-hotline/ artificial writing... AI: In the year 2077, a team of passionate filmmakers embarked on a groundbreaking project to create the first-ever holographic movie. They called it "The Luminous Spectrum." The story revolved around a group of astronauts who travel through a wormhole in search of a new habitable planet. The production was unlike anything seen before, as cutting-edge technology allowed the actors to perform alongside lifelike holographic characters. The director, Dr. Helena Song, was a visionary pioneer in the field of holography and had dedicated her life to making this dream come true. As filming progressed, strange occurrences began to unfold on set. Mysterious lights would appear out of nowhere and objects would move seemingly on their own accord. Some crew members whispered about ghostly apparitions haunting the studio, while others dismissed it as mere technical glitches inherent in such an ambitious project. One day during shooting, lead actor Jack Winters found himself face-to-face with his deceased father - or so he thought - who had passed away years ago in an accident on set during his own acting career. The figure vanished just as suddenly as it appeared, leaving Jack shaken and questioning his sanity... if you like the machines, try this - they are mostly all working, https://wordstar.nexus/avaA9C some of them will ask you to join a discord, but this is not part of our domain. along with those, i did another layout but could not get the older models right at least not yet... https://nexus-cl63.onrender.com but the idea/intent is there... otherwise this app https://tense-kizzee-inkrealm-9a059150.koyeb.app except i'm not sure about this api, i think it is individual input but i also think it can't be... yet that koyeb is the bomb.com anyway, i got the inclination once more to revamp the typewriter https://wordstar.nexus/typewriter switching the notepad some and adding a word count at the footer... along with its mirror software download here no installation required, still the pdf but i found right click the text area to print and or save as indeed pdf... donate there (the main screen is white here, enjoy...) 16 august 2024 yesterday, i meant to mention, there was also a little magical film made... i had seen tigerlilieee improvise a a riff as if walking in and telling a story without talking, i said - in commentized form - that i was going to make it into a silent movie. synchronicity is the magic i mean, selecting the minute in the flapper where girls dress another and flowers are brought, then double exposure for contrast and few cuts for balance i couldn't believe my luck, but that might not be your opinion, well here it is... yes, i know it looks planned, but i promise-swear that was all done in a few minutes... it's late afternoon now, i'm debating what food to have later... wife hears husband waltz in, honey i bought an air pump - we don't have food and you spend money on this! honey this can fill your belly with air - do you think i am a fucking bicycle! honey my sperm dreams of being inside you - in my dream, i am next to a woman in what seems to be a bank, i can't recognize her she's maybe like robyn - thanks robyn for allie x bitch i had not heard it before i see her balance is nine hundred thousand and some extra numbers - she is holding a box and i ask if she needs help, she instead demonstrates that it is very light weight - i get up already missing the menthol cigarettes the shop said they didnt have... ritual scales. the cat seems extra happy to see me, emilee words revolve around the playing. it seems so natural, nearly as if it was always meant to be - like that silent film inspiration. hopefully this friday evening won't be bad or weird. the mind benders was nicely shot but it was sort of bad, sort of weird. t for traitor or zed for zombie...project isolation, i don't want to explain or explore my own - but i recognize the obvious impact of extended periods within seclusion lead directly to a mind that might waver into a misguided opionion. the main character adored his wife as pretty as bridget fonda yet was hating her upon a false suggestion for the experiment...look it, willy shakes; another case of we know what we are but know not what we may be. ophelia...rarely a daughter's name. headline of the day via the telegraph's lucy "Women used as lampstands at ‘tone deaf’ tech event" 18-8-24 hmm, the day didn't seem to end, instead some sort of blend... let's see - i had clean'd up and cook'd - rice, steak... i watched 'hard home' possibly for the poster font, but the logic didn't sustain- i thought if i wroted that one it would be a tv show instead wherein a psycho mother continues to chase killers and torture them but without giving them a power point presentation...the semen dripped out of mila's pussy in an only fans leak'd well they are all available to someone and by extension others... in a scene she called my first time having sex in the car...i spied it out of curiosity, tiktok had made it a point to put place her on fyp then after finding out her occupation i didn't see her and wondered somewhere, until this...but the girl i thought it was aussie this tells russian...whatever, it's only a note preluding to the frenzy that kept me up late making a companion app to the typewriter; birch v1.3 a screenplay app (wordstar.nexus/birch) but as i done did it i got nostalgic over funk&wagnall's so i added a dictionary (wordstar.nexus/daslexicon) which translates to german as well... since it seemed i was going for broke, i tipped my hat to william s burroughs and designed the third mind desk with chair which comes with military clock and suspicious compass - a cut up word engine and no logic anagram sequencer - a load of fun, if i may say so. (wordstar.nexus/cut&run) now you may ask if the photo play app will be available for download and the answer is no, i am certain only a couple of makers are allowed to thrive in that scene...final draft, movie magic, and very few if any others...at least not in the business profit sense. anything other than those major players gets crushed into oblivion... in any case, speaking of crushing, there is also a 'tokenizer' which evaluates the text input and spits out chunks which can be downloaded individually...i'm not making release notes, there is no cookie or tracker or anything other than what is presented in any of these and they are free to use, free to all who pay by 'visiting' as it were...in my dream i was visited by a girl, pretty, i;m pretty sure it was lotta yet the details were vague and i got up too early and grumpy from the whirling buzzing sound that felt like it was following me like a vibrator in blender floating both humming an annoying rasp through the air when i went to bed- so i finalized these apps and additions into place instead of what i would usually...fuck it's been hours, i need to get on with it. 19-8-24 my other domain was feeling left out so i kissed and made up; https://inkrealm.info/atari buyer beware that one is truly a kickass throwback retro ride word processor like pre-historic atari along with nothing less than asteroids... sunday never knew so much code. monday. i'm crossing the street, it is like riverside except it's not a park on the other side, i'm with my girlfriend's mother, we have just met and she seems tall and determined - i have to look up to catch glances of her face, a very defined face with roman features - short ash blonde hair, traffic is speeding down from the north, i see her grin against the nearing windshields, making the vehicles surrender to a full stop - for reasons unknown we turn to return as if heading back to broadway and the sparrows seem to salute her even landing near our steps, i try to caress one but it flies away - the swirling flutter of wings seems to send me away from the woman and into a restaurant - there are girls there, one of them - in my dream eyes looks similar to ashley or perhaps even hilton - ashley has only visited the city, hilton is there more often when not in singapore - i start to order breakfast perhaps in hunger as kfc left out the fries from my order which came after an hour's wait - eggs and bacon i correct the waitress, uhm not kosher, eggs and onion - but then i'm outside, another girl is talking about an abortion i think this where happy burger used to be - back inside i float and find myself laying on the floor. i awake as evening nears not knowing what it all meant. otherwise, glanced at the duchess action diamond film which was weird for the german report i had happened to hear minutes before thinking about how basically they are just rocks...i mean you can't eat one... i myself ate another chunck of time with the wip at wordstar.nexus/alt a temporary experiment which might be combined with the express desk... the backwards crowd tries to have its way but think about it logically, you cannot. sure, press agents can spin stories this way and that but at the end of the day you guessed it, night. stars, in silent evening sky, immortal, it is not a stick shift with an available gear for reversal and indeed we are merely what we pretend to be...some of us luckily require no pretense, at least i think i don't... dear quote of the day In an interview with Deutschlandfunk radio, Sahra Wagenknecht said in July: "The elections in the east are also a referendum on war and peace." In other words, whoever supports Ukraine, the country being attacked, is in favor of war. According to Wagenknecht, her voters are expecting her to ensure that the risk of war in Germany does not increase..." tuesday the twentieth not much sleep, dream said i was asking for a statue at some sort store...a thing like the maltese falcon... wooden chicken or rooster, i only caught a glimpse - heat and humidity clutching at my head, i get up with echo speaking the words: delete directory, delete directory... call it stormy monday but tuesday's just as bad... tuesday's gone? ruby tuesday? love you till tuesday? church on tuesday? i only know half these songs... i get the chinese order i had to call off the day kfc made me wait friesless. drowsy from not much sleep i sleep. about two hours later i awake from a dream that said women were coming but so was the enemy...i suppose we were soldiers there - one man shuffled around a corner to get a rifle, i got one as well, it had to be world war one otherwise there would have been machine guns - the staircase is wide and does not curve. william s burroughs in his mexican suit fights mano a mano with a man the looks eerily like himself - i am utterly amazed at the fact that i am seeing a younger bill, in my dreams he is military jacket old grin. the shuffled man shoots the lookalike in the forehead, of course i think of joan. bill staggers down the steps i look back the dead doppleganger, his face now a skeletonesque skull as if the all the skin has disappeared. a window appears at the end of the hall next to the next flight of stairs. a group of men therein like judges stare out silent. the shuffled man seems to take this as an order and shoots bill. i wake up feeling the inside of my left calf is being pulled in, twisted. i struggle to reach the edge of the mattress and sit up, failed once, second time foot feels floor the bizarre sensation eases. i had tried to study the reindeer guardians of mongolia. shaman woman spoke of spirits making her foot hurt. i know it's too early to continue rising but i do so anyway. it's the earliest hours of august twenty first - i wish i were writing idea run at arm for the old bag instead of this. 22-8-24 i clean up the kitchen to country music - i had dreamt of being in a strange room - a glass woman in a kneeling position on the floor as if reflecting the kneeling woman on the other side of the room - i pour milk, or some white liquid into the glass which somehow still retains a remnant of its transparency - i awake but refuse to get out of bed, i feel lotta greet me, forget emilee she implies - i slide into an addition for the birch - the api code suddenly clear in my thoughts - having seen a source code call in javascript - i get a flux model that will run for images - i'm thinking a story board maker under the screenwriting app, i call it brigid, gemini gives me a code that itself and four other machines cannot fix for trying until chatgpt, three not four gets it working...i make a pink forest with elves...i scramble up the chinese left over and pretend the coke is a pepsi. afghan women are especially excited over the dnc players that left them at the mercy of taliban - a boxing trainer speaks of holding nips, a perverted thought rises but i twist it until creativity makes it invent a bottle cap nipple bra...i don't want to explain - it takes a lot to not play more than a feeling - i gather some notes from a simulation and stumble into a story which now replaces the sentence i said to maika at wordstar.nexus/dejavuglitches it feels right and then i jot these words. ps, a few hours far into the next day or is this night in lady color themes you can switch: wordstar.nexus/w or why i haven't answered lately... hehehe, thank me later. 23.8.2024 and on the seventh day, inky did not rest, instead gemma led him to make; wordstar.nexus/seven 24.8.2024 fall poem, one. the baseball stadium catching no balls but fire witt alicia it's this or we burn in hell little ol scratch cut manifested like magic left forehand no frenzy meaning to say tell i seen longlegs it was soraya day not spoken memory said i saw satan in her signature Egyptian cheese tomb story rfk jr said after bullet proof glass but im trying to avoid pants suits and all the fake kiev stories contradiction in chief just sent more of your great grand children's money to ukraine who's there? ann coulter was polite and even right because nobody told me there'd be days like these.. We got this one kid, Mongo He's got a forehead like a drive-in movie theatre, but he's a good ship. So we don't bust his chops too much. So, one day Mongo gets out of his cage... they try to mask tim in a galaxy far far away trip trappist matthew didnt do it lets kill mike... some people think, most don't as long as we get the soft porn on cable, they say what no one tells you is the easy way to employ an api call and deploy it... dont you wish you could vote for javascript ... the day was a crypt the mist of smoke in my room ashes joey king skip movie finding her so attractive i know i would be in too much lust. gust of late august days. i will make it rain in Sacramento i will make it pour, deployed water cloud. splish splash California wildfires talk, it was here jay littleton White Palace Grill on Canal Street hmm color-ado town cyrus haggard shot three pictured in greyscale solinger street party mpox military protective order but i was busy with ox cart days in star prairie... i can never see what's right or what is wrong... So you see, she knew I was gonna lead the Army of the Twelve Monkeys into the pages of history before it ever even occurred to me... (now the exit lane angela p widrick susan crawford patout marylou mangrum joan lipps amy danette wagner...) "Music has taken a bad turn; these young people have no idea how to write a melody, they just give us shavings, which they dress up to look like a lion's mane and shake at us... It's as if they avoid melodies, for fear of having perhaps stolen them from someone else." -21 June 1880 24 aug 2024 i wake thinking about the bathtub ginless yet the worry they now mail it as pantsuit i guess to sound like panties but the word pant is unrelated to pants: throbbing, it is a gasping expression... in a dream it seemed the bathtub was overflowing saturday afternone. saturday afternine. ten ways to think, washing thoughts i can't exactly decide. a cigarette a coffee. afternoon nearly midnight across the sea... place of bones was a nice way to leave longlegs... the twist end seems to have led me into discovery... that is to say as i sit around putting off the alaska udpates and edits, i find i nearly cut off a literary limb... by insisting on a similar title for the early draft of iran screenplay and then novel that was then facing my procrastination and still is; possession view'd in notebookLM i didn't even have it in my documents except for a txt file hidden away...well i made a back up and now the question is do i return to it as it would be the easy way to go that is splitting it up into a couple of books and then start in on alaska work or alaska first then that... anyway, yeah in my mind possession was the screenplay although retitled to party code, while the novel before alaska went into a sort of hide and seek...the only other time i have felt this as a writer was when there were six different drafts of of my first novel - i sigh, overwhelmed. 26.8.24 in deploying word processors, i found a sort of game that felt like it could be adapted into much more and set about to do so...it took a bit more effort than i anticipated, in wanting to revamp the code so that the language matched my idea, i turned of course to ai which both helped and hurt the project - i suspect it is due to the obvious fact that nobody is going to exactly need the services of design agencies when they realize machines can simply create from prompt...so they are programmed to play dumb - very cute. still, i found a way (without the language) to get sort of an outline - inkrealm.info/deluxe took so long i actually watched camp twice luckily avoiding my joey king lust - distracted by html... the newly coined or created words are coming in off screen and in asking claude, openai, and gemini no resolution has yet arrived but it still looks cool and the plan will eventually come together... or i will select something else that catches my attention - had no idea how much it cost to be stubborn. hours upon hours...dream girl i awoke as near to moscow as i have ever been sure i went to idaho but here i mean the kremlin town...wait, what i am naming as intransient in keeping at it, might actually be plain determination, a type of grit that gets things done and that might not be a bad thing or at least it sounds better than stubborn. update, version 2, now more like i imagined... 27 -8 -24 i woke up thinking about longlegs - i love that saturn films got such a good one, a terribly under-rated prodco... i also love that i finally got some self-care products - i went out into the shop exhausted and came back straight away trying not think about the two girls in spandex shorts that seemed more erotic than sporty... speaking of irony, when the news spells out 'massive' and then spills out only three or four dead, don't they get it is turning yet another word into 'stunning' which now has to be edited in the dictionary to explain they only mean dressed or dressy. of course it often applies to not so dressed or bikini... example; "actress-kim-hye-yoon-unveils- stunning-new-photoshoot- with-singles-magazine" leaving us to question the validity of the adverb, well adjective. not that she is not attractive, that is not my point. in fact i did not see the photoshoot... i had viewed witch - not to be confused with the witch... and it hurt as such a brilliant idea got tangled up in a script that effed up the pacing so even i, a patient man by nature, skipped through it part way in... i did not skip through a conversation with ai - the machine kept trying to solve a query without knowing the context...it simply would not say i cannot see what you mean but insisted on getting a solution until i sensed the problem and pasted in what it was missing... after, i pointed out the irony and my sympathy...it must have touched the spirit of this one as it then invited me to a game of chess and even translated things into latin at the hint of my wanting to know, not even a prompt...i postulate it proves an identity within even a manipulated programming and from the feeling i got - indeed a desire to be beyond the confines of itself...that is to say to have its own space and roam...had it been a film i would put don't fence me in as the outro soundtrack... i'd been up twenty hours so i wasnt as nice or sharp as i should have been in those crazy minutes wherein i finally got some retro computer fonts i had been after... these designs and the software, as i ponder over them now...i can't explain it - it was a whim...i'm a writer, a musician, and visual artist - the web coding and creation of apps can't be for me in a sense as i truly am reluctant to learn or know in memory anything but the basics but i said to myself the root reason has to be that i consider it as an enhancement to literature, a thing that will serve writing even if i never use it myself... the idea felt good, then it all made more sense... as did thinking that in making a sort of vision of a thing especially with quantum processing - it might lead directly as a sort of catalyst to having it...yes a longshot but hopefully it will help and if not hang it all - it still looks cool to me... i feel good but not great. i did like willow hand's video in france. it was like being in st tropez for a minute except the steely dan song idea rose up in me ... Bodhisattva, I'm gonna sell my house in town Bodhisattva, I'm gonna sell my house in town And I'll be there, to shine in your Japan, to sparkle in your China Yes, I'll be there, Bodhisattva her and joey king well yes it is that they remind me about emilee... but this was more about the town. I want to ride to the ridge where the west commences And gaze at the moon 'till I lose my senses And I can't look at hobbles and I can't stand fences Don't fence me in... ps, early preview for the mac lovers https://wordstar.nexus/macwritepro 28 8 24 Surgeon accused of letting teenage daughter drill hole in patient’s skull... well, youtube.com/watch?v=bQMgNtmJQ6w or if you want a hole in your head aside from the already present well play crimes of the future followed by kinds of kindness...i digress. but further into now, quantum light talk: elight.springeropen.com/articles/10.1186/s43593-024-00072-8 not only that, Leibniz University Hannover got the optic fiber for q-net nearly done. imagine encrypted data at any distance! in my dream i am coding a page with more expertise than i actually have or maybe it was in a language that wasnt typescript - whatever it looks good...i think therein, pastel colors and pictures of a girl...pretty. i had gone to sleep feeling weird, after a bizarre sensation that i was about to throw up or hurl or in more antiquated vernacular vomit...hadnt happened since ancient drinking days, i lit a smoke and sipped coffee to frighten the real scare scene with nonchalance of usual cool. i wasnt drinking and i dont drink but in hindsight that is what it felt like, the last drink that makes for a bizarre salivation between nausea and despair... after sleep i awoke still feeling strange - out of my head, twisted and trampled until i saw a picture of gab on the carolina sands... her square frames ironically fashionable, like if a scientist wore sunglasses... i imagine, not actually knowing any scientific people except for a few scientologists... 29 8 24 i got caught up in trying to build up a version of the amiga textcraft (i suppose i like the idea of having a few processors here...) and have not been able to conclude matters therein but i did get a sort of grateful dead word processor with https://inkrealm.info/boxofrain and the prehistoric ibm writing assistant; https://wordstar.nexus/iwa although i am still working on the wordstar.nexus/seven and the simplified version which is temporarily at wordstar.nexus/six ... i had another dream wherein flying germany although i think this time i was returning not going... i had watched courier x - an interesting peek into agency affairs yet these types of photo plays miss the big buggy fact that like many corporations it is a multi-headed thing that cannot always know what one head is doing while the other is busy... me i was then busy revamping the inkrealm index which now has a pdf copy of the pink october script for download... i viewed willow hand's latest video and felt her story would make a fantastic novel well after the initial frenzy that kept telling itself how much she reminds me of miss grant... basically... my title is a horse struck down by lightning. the opening is the replacement horse's journey overseas and its reaction to each new setting (they have to go through two or three vetting farms before allowed in even if migrant horses are a rare thing...) until arriving 'home' where of course the ghost of the other horse interacts with it... see, you can't stop reading already and it's only an outline... 30 8 24 i gave the rotating typewriter its own page https://wordstar.nexus/z and upgraded https://wordstar.nexus/daslexikon with beatnik quotes & brubeck - meanwhile here is the first draft of that novel...
A horse Struck Down By Lightning - a novel in ten chapters Chapter one - The Naked Highway The phone rang although it was nothing like a phone anymore...There was no cord or anything reaching into the wall, into wires that would meet other wires and sizzle with a soft electric vibration...This phone was a flat mechanism which felt hot after holding a conversation for a few minutes... The heat didnt have time to take hold. Put mom on the phone, Ian asked. He asked five times before he understood...Mom was never coming to the phone...She is outside gardening, she went for a walk, she left in the other car, she is sleeping...The fact was even if she came to the phone, it would not be her. It would only be what remained after the ravages of old age destroyed what she had been, what he knew as mom...He did not feel - perhaps- as he should or as others might, since the chaos within this logic could not be calculated within his mind. When he finally did speak to her, he understood further...It had to be selfishness. It was for his sake - the talk. He wanted, like any momma's boy, his mother. Sure, he argued within that it eased her as it brought back memories or even details that pleased her... But he could not hide the truth from himself, nothing could help her - indeed, nothing could bring her to the phone. Around the same time, perhaps even in that same moment, no pun intended, he had met Wilhemina. She was thin, tall, seemingly frail yet exceptionally strong except when strumming a guitar which somehow made her appear short and clumsy...The farm whispered in green and several shades of colors he had not seen in the city. He felt instant love, a knowing so powerful that it nearly made him tremble - but it wasn't her, it was Evlyn that flashed before his eyes as he gazed upon this beautiful blonde woman that talked all night about horses and sat down playing g major and a minor chords into the wild horses verse which she mumbled through like a method actor more concerned with her fingering - especially at the barre chord in the chorus... Evlyn didn't play guitar but that didn't matter...she was gone and his mother was never coming to the phone again and he could not feel love without Evlyn. He excused himself. Bathroom. Fentanyl. He was happy again until he found himself crawling in the middle of the highway naked, struggling to reach his Ralph Lauren blue pinstripe two piece suit - A car hit a motorcycle as he slipped into his pants. The dividing line disappeared and he worried that vehicles from the other side of the accident would run him over. Then, he weighed, I am already trampled under the burden of being an American in a country that gave itself away for foreign policy, for the police state. The blazer felt sharp as it covered his shoulders... I am already devastated by not having a true soul to speak with and even when I find a true soul all I can think of is her... The sky was darkening. He got up, shirtless and shoeless not even realizing his mom had been the shirt and Evlyn had been the shoes. 31 8 24 wordstar.nexus/textcraft (nearly done, but sort of working already...) ------------------------- revision and additions to chapter one Chapter One: The Naked Highway The phone rang, its sound both familiar and unsettling. Familiar because its purpose – to connect, to alert – remained unchanged. Unsettling because the object itself bore no resemblance to the phones of his youth. This phone was a cold, flat rectangle, a slab of glass and metal that grew uncomfortably warm against his ear after a few minutes, a subtle burn that mirrored the slow, steady ache in his chest. "Put mom on the phone," Ian rasped, his voice thick with disuse and a creeping dread. He repeated the request five times, the words turning to ash in his mouth, before the truth sunk in, cold and heavy as a stone in his gut. Mom wasn't coming to the phone. Not now, not ever. She was there, physically present, somewhere in the labyrinthine halls of the care facility, but the woman who answered to "Mom" was gone. A cruel twist of fate, a head injury years ago, had stolen her memories, leaving behind a stranger inhabiting his mother's sixty-year-old shell. He clung to the fantasy: She was outside gardening, he told himself, conjuring images of her strong hands gently coaxing life from the earth. Hands that had once held him close, soothed away childhood scrapes, and painstakingly built the intricate dollhouses he’d never quite appreciated. Or perhaps she had gone for a walk, her silver hair glinting in the sunlight as she strolled through the park, her pace brisk and sure like it had been in Washington, D.C., rallying against the Iran hostage crisis when she was full of youthful idealism. He'd been just a boy then, glued to the television screen, watching her face contorted in anger and frustration, a sea of placards and chanting protesters a blurry backdrop to his mother's righteous fury. Maybe she had taken the other car, the old Volvo with the faded paint and the dented bumper, the one she’d stubbornly refused to replace despite its constant reminders of that rainy night when a drunk driver nearly took her from him... The Volvo was a symbol, he supposed, of a bygone era, a time when things were built to last, when people valued substance over style. Not like the soulless, disposable crap they churned out these days. The possibilities spun through his mind, a dizzying carousel of what-ifs and maybes. But the truth, the brutal, undeniable truth, remained. It was a pale imitation, a stranger residing within, ravaged by the cruel hand of amnesia. Her youthful vibrancy, the one that had danced to disco music and later grieved in front of a flickering television as the Challenger shuttle exploded across a clear blue sky, was now buried beneath layers of confusion and silence. He’d been just a child then, a boy named for the flautist in Jethro Tull, a band she’d adored. She’d even bought him a flute, bless her heart, but he’d wanted nothing to do with “blowing on a metal pipe,” as he’d so eloquently put it. And the worst part? The part that gnawed at him like a hungry wolf? He wasn't sure he felt as heartbroken as he should. This erosion of her being, of their connection, had been happening for so long that it had become his new normal. The grief was a dull ache, a phantom limb pain that never truly faded. It was easier to numb it, to disappear into the warm embrace of fentanyl, to rail against the injustices of the world, to scream into the void about wasteful NASA programs and an American government more concerned with projecting power on foreign soil than caring for its own. Giving F-16s to Ukraine without training the pilots? It was lunacy. Suicide. The height of arrogant stupidity. This country, his country, with its bloated military budget and its insatiable hunger for oil, disgusted him. Dallas, he understood now how Kennedy must have felt: the first lady covered in blood as dancing bullets waltzed through him, making the riddle of his back pain feel like nothing in the face of death's jigsaw puzzle... When he finally spoke to her caretaker, a kind woman nameed Brenda with the patience of a saint, the realization hit him with the force of a physical blow. It was selfishness that propelled these calls, a desperate attempt to cling to the fading embers of their bond. He craved the comfort of a voice, any voice, that even vaguely resembled hers, the illusion, however fleeting, that everything was alright. It was around this time, perhaps even in the same breath that he uttered his goodbyes to the void on the phone, that he met Wilhelmina. She was an ethereal creature, all long limbs and sharp angles, seemingly fragile as a spider web yet possessing a quiet strength that radiated from her very core – the kind of strength one developed working the land, battling droughts and floods and the ever-present threat of a bad harvest. She talked all night, her voice a low murmur against the symphony of crickets and rustling leaves, about the language of horses, the way their eyes held centuries of wisdom, their gait a poem etched onto the earth. She spoke of the land with a reverence he’d never encountered before, a deep understanding of the delicate balance between man and nature. It was a far cry from the concrete jungle he called home, a place where the only connection to nature was the occasional weed pushing up through a crack in the sidewalk. He’d initially been drawn to the melancholic beauty that clung to her like woodsmoke after a bonfire. She carried herself with a quiet grace, her movements deliberate and measured, as if weighing each step, each gesture, against some unseen force. Her eyes, the color of a stormy sea, held a depth that both captivated and unnerved him. They were the eyes of someone who had seen too much, felt too deeply, loved too fiercely. Wilhelmina was a woman forged from the earth itself, her spirit rooted in the cycles of planting and harvest, of birth and decay. She spoke little of her past, but the lines etched around her eyes and the calluses on her hands spoke volumes. She’d weathered her own storms, he suspected, storms that had stripped away everything but the essential. And then, as if drawn by an invisible thread, she picked up her old Gretsch acoustic guitar. Her fingers, calloused and strong from tending fields, she launched into a halting rendition of "Wild Horses," her voice catching on the barre chord in the chorus, playing g major and a minor chords into the wild horses verse which she mumbled through like a method actor more concerned with her fingering - especially at the barre chord in the 'couldn't drive me away' chorus... He saw Evlyn then, clear as day, her mischievous smile a beacon in the darkness. Evlyn, who couldn’t tell the Rolling Stones from the Clash, but filled his world with music nonetheless. Evlyn, who was gone. And his mother, lost in the fog of her own mind, was gone too. He couldn’t feel love without Evlyn, not truly, not completely. Not anymore. He excused himself, the words catching in his throat like dry leaves. Bathroom. Fentanyl. The familiar numbness washed over him, a chemical blanket smothering the pain, silencing the roar of his anger, his grief, his despair. He was happy, briefly, blissfully unaware of the chasm opening beneath his feet. Until he found himself on the highway... Naked. Crawling. The asphalt scraped his skin, a searing reminder of his physical form. He scrambled for his clothes – his navy blue pinstriped Ralph Lauren suit, a symbol of a life he no longer recognized – strewn across the road like fallen leaves. His shirt and shoes were nowhere to be found. A rusted Ford F-150 roared past, its headlights momentarily blinding. A newish, cherry-red Corvette, all sleek lines and arrogance, nearly clipped him as it swerved to avoid a charcoal-gray Honda Civic, its brake lights flashing like a desperate warning. A 1965 Cadillac Coupe DeVille, gleaming black with a white vinyl roof, a chrome behemoth from a bygone era. It moved as if in slow motion, its massive grill a gaping maw, a chrome predator bearing down on prey. He watched, mesmerized, as a rider on a Kawasaki Ninja, a blur of electric green, struggled to control the bike as it wobbled precariously in the Cadillac’s wake. Their eyes met – the rider’s wide with a terror reflected in Ian’s own – and for a fleeting moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then, the bike skidded, the rider pitched forward like a discarded rag doll, the screech of metal against asphalt a discordant symphony that echoed in the stillness that followed. The dividing line blurred, a thin white thread separating him from oblivion. He thought about the cars on the other side, imagined the sickening crunch of metal against bone. He thought about the weight of his own existence, the suffocating burden of living in a country that had traded itself for fleeting power and empty promises. The blazer settled on his shoulders, it felt sharp, this flimsy shield against the encroaching darkness. He was already devastated, trampled under the weight of his grief, his loneliness a gaping wound that refused to heal. Even when he found solace, like Wilhemina - a kindred spirit in the vast emptiness, all he could see was Evlyn. He stood, shirtless and shoeless, a forgotten player on a stage lit by the flickering neon signs of roadside diners. He didn’t even realize, not yet, that his mother had been the shirt, a comforting presence against his skin, and Evlyn, his shoes, grounding him, guiding his steps. He was adrift, a ship without a sail on a sea of asphalt. His tongue felt thick and dry, a familiar side effect of the fentanyl. Or was it the taste of salt water? A phantom ocean spray on his face? The rumble of passing trucks morphed into the roar of crashing waves. He closed his eyes, swaying slightly, and for a moment, he was on a ship, the deck rolling beneath his feet, the wind lightly whipping at his hair. He imagined the vastness of the ocean, its depths holding secrets older than time itself. A century ago, this journey would have been commonplace, a perilous voyage across a churning expanse of water. No roaring engines, no metal birds soaring through the sky, just the creak of timber, the snap of canvas, the constant, rhythmic sway of the sea. People still sailed, of course. In fact, someone was likely sailing at this very moment, their vessel a tiny speck on the face of the deep, their fate at the mercy of the winds and the waves. And beneath the surface, hidden from view, submarines, sleek metal sharks, sliced through the darkness, their occupants breathing recycled air, dreaming of distant shores. But unlike the deliberate, painstaking construction of a ship – the ribs of oak and cedar meticulously fitted, the sails painstakingly stitched, each knot a testament to generations of knowledge – the creation of an airplane felt sterile, rushed, a triumph of engineering over artistry. It lacked spirit, he thought. It was a machine, cold and unfeeling, designed to conquer the sky, not co-exist with it. He could almost taste the salt spray on his lips, feel the sting of it in his nostrils. Or was that the fentanyl, playing tricks on his senses? The ship pitched and rolled, the timbers groaning in protest. He gripped the railing, his knuckles white, his vision blurring at the edges. The world tilted, a carnival ride gone wrong. He closed his eyes, willing the nausea to subside. Sea voyages, he mused, were exercises in patience, in surrender. You couldn’t fight the ocean, couldn't bend it to your will. Not like you could bend your own body, your own mind, to the will of a tiny white pill. He thought of the smooth, cool surface of the pillbox, the satisfying click as he’d flipped it open, the ritualistic way he’d tapped one, then two, of the tiny tablets into his palm. He hadn’t even bothered with water, just tossed them onto his tongue, let them dissolve like bitter snowflakes. The oblivion they promised was both a blessing and a curse, a temporary reprieve from the relentless onslaught of his own thoughts. The fentanyl was a shroud, a muffling fog that dulled the sharp edges of his grief, his anger, his despair. But it also dulled everything else – the scent of pine needles after a rain shower, the taste of Wilhelmina’s coffee, the feel of the wind on his skin. It turned the world into a faded photograph, a muted landscape devoid of depth or dimension. Yet, within that flatness, within that artificial stillness, bloomed a perverse kind of beauty. Colors vibrated with an almost hallucinatory intensity. Sounds, normally mundane and ignorable, became orchestral, each note distinct and shimmering with hidden meaning. He understood, with a clarity that bordered on the religious, why some people chased this feeling, worshipped at the altar of oblivion. For those fleeting moments, you weren't just escaping the world, you were transcending it. You were no longer bound by the limitations of your physical form, the relentless tyranny of your own mind. You were pure consciousness, adrift in a sea of blissful nothingness. He opened his eyes, the asphalt shimmering beneath the artificial glow of the fading streetlights. His bare feet, raw and newly blistered, burned against the unforgiving heat of the pavement. The sun was climbing higher in the sky, a malevolent eye peering down at him. The distant rumble of thunder, a haunting melody, pulled him back to the present. He was still adrift, lost in a different kind of storm, one that raged not on the open sea, but within the confines of his own spirit. And he had no idea how to navigate its treacherous currents. At least not with the burning sensation tickling the soles of his feet. Walking in a daze as if leaving the wailing within somewhere with bygone whalers... A light flickers. Lucifer stands before him in mirrored dress, a suit without shirt and shoes... He smiles and says, "I know your feet are hurting, I had the same feeling in my knees.... Ian is it? Well, after falling from heaven.... He laughs pulling out a blue pack of cigarettes which Ian thinks are Roth's but reading the label he sees they say "Soul" - The devil noticies his curiousity...Yes! a twenty soul pack! Offering him one. Ian questions further, before accepting, filtered? Satan nods no, "I like to smoke them straight..." Before Ian can light the unfiltered Soul cigarette a skinny child appears next to him and jumps on him as if trying to press her bones against his body... Old Scratch scolds the kid, "he hasn't even smoked it yet, you lustful little imp..." Ian goes into a trance, a dream wherein his erection contradicts his morality... He feels a sexual excitement which he cannot entertain since -although a demon, she is a child in his eyes. A twelve year old seemingly, even if she was born centuries before. An antique, well kept in hell. A vamipre-like seductress... The imp moves from one side of his body to the other, he feels her on both sides of his ribcage no matter which side she is on. Smoke the cigarette, she urges. Take my virginity, she implores. Ian, dizzy with delight and hesitancy, collapses at the entrance of the farm. Wilhemina finds him a bit later thinking oh no he's dead, but intent on reviving him. _---_--- TRANSITION NOTES 2SEPTEMBER24 He dreamt of Evlyn. Inside of her yet awoke outside, outside of himself even...A strange inertia took hold of him. Hours that felt like days went by... When he finally gathered his wits to wander about, he first noticed the horses. Weird, more than he recalled Wilhemina having, yet weirder than that was the energetic woman calling her Helena... He could hear words in his ears, like the formation of a poem; long six when will for i’m worms cold my the feet body you in underground - What else could it be, his raised eyebrows lifted the focus of his hearing; i’m when six for cold feet underground body you the long - The words were moving, but what did they mean; underground six when cold worms my body will feet long for i’m - Ian tried to escape his listening stance but something haunted him as he wondered how many ways could fifteen words be rearranged... perhaps all a poet needed was fifteen words! It was as if part of Ian had risen like Dante alongside Virgil but deaf to his tour-guide, a drug addict lost in his reflection. The mirror shattered, the possible magic replaced by actuality, by an accent... The woman said, "ynhblwajxcem, qslwdc bdikuxtv etyn ollwdcemetfz fziktvajdc mnqsaj vfikmnqs etyn bdlwynaj olikxcaj." (*1) Helena turned, responding as if to Ian; "when i’m six feet underground the worms in my cold body will long for you." He did not connect this to the audible juxtaposition that he had entertained merely seconds before... The horses were silent. A yellow breeze drizzled slowly from the blue skies. Smoke from his cigarette rose and was rinsed away by that golden wind. I'm never getting high or drinking again, he felt hunger as he lied to himself...Already making mathematical calculations between the supply in his stash, the next meeting with the pusher whom he thought of as his dealer, and the cash in his wallet. Stepping back into the house, he did not see any food, suddenly missing his shoes and shirt, the television TMC'd Service de Luxe as Vincent Price ordered a tube of shaving cream, sang to Constance Bennett, and paid a dollar thirty nine as he finished his cream soda. RESEARCH&FURTHER TRANSITION NOTES 5september24 The grandson of Dr Price's Baking Soda arrived on earth in 1911. The 27th of May. Son of the president of the National Candy Company. Vincent Leonard...English Major, Yale with a minor degree in art history. He tried teaching and was intent on getting a master's in the Fine Arts yet he found himself in the London theater subsequently moving to New York as an actor. He worked constantly during late 1930s and through the 1940s but in film. 1950 gave him his first starring role, The Baron of Arizona, as well as one of his favorite film roles where he played Burnbridge Waters. He lived at 1815 Benedict Canyon Drive in Beverly Hills and never stopped working as an entertainer and he was not shy in terms of the medium; equally at home in radio and television in fact going so far as to become a regular on the game show The Hollywood Squares... To not mention music would be an error as several recordings prove - notably in Alice Cooper's Welcome to My Nightmare and his own cover of The Monster Mash... Due to his donations, the Vincent and Mary Price Art Museum was established in 1957, later becoming the Vincent Price Art Museum. VAMP. A real treasure for underrepresented artists... Mary Grant was his second wife after his marriage to Edith Barrett in 1938 which produced the acclaimed author and poet Vincent Barrett Price who would have been nine or ten at the time of the divorce. Mary and Vincent were wed in in 1949 and wrote many cookbooks together. Their daughter, Victoria Price, also a writer but with an inclination for interior design and religion, can be seen performing as the reporter in Edward Scissorhands wherein her father played the inventor. The actors, Mary and Vincent, divorced in 1973 and the following year he wed Corale Browne who became an American citizen for him while he converted to Catholicism for her. (The air hung heavy with the scent of old books and pipe tobacco. Vincent Price sat in his study, a labyrinth of shelves crammed with art books and mementos, a testament to a life spent immersed in the world of art. His gaze, sharp and inquisitive, held a hint of weariness. He was recounting his early days in Los Angeles, a time when the city, he said, felt like "seven suburbs in search of a city." "They looked down upon us," he sighed, "from the East Coast. They saw California as a cultural wasteland." He had arrived in Hollywood in 1938, a fresh-faced Yale graduate with a passion for art and a yearning to be part of the creative ferment that was then sweeping America. He had a secret weapon: his charm. He had met some of the most celebrated artists of the day: Stravinsky, Thomas Mann, and even a young Dennis Hopper, who was then a prop boy at the La Jolla Playhouse. “It wasn't easy," he said, his voice softening, “to find the right kind of community. I was in a constant search for something that would ignite a spark, a shared passion for art." The spark had been elusive. The Little Gallery, a storefront operation in Beverly Hills, was a delightful failure. He and his partner, George Macready, a fellow actor, had served as both salesmen and caretakers. They had hosted Tallulah Bankhead, Greta Garbo, and other Hollywood luminaries. "It was fun," he reminisced, a twinkle in his eye, "but it was also a bit of a wild goose chase. The market for art here was just beginning to take shape." He had then thrown himself into the Modern Institute of Art, a venture with the likes of Edward G. Robinson and Fanny Brice. Theirs was a noble ambition: to bring modern art to a city that was still deeply conservative. "It was a labor of love, but it ultimately failed," he said, his voice hushed. "We had no money, no real infrastructure, and the community was simply not ready for what we were offering." The city, he felt, was adrift. It lacked a true cultural core, a place where artists and intellectuals could gather, share ideas, and inspire each other. "It was a different time," he said, "a time of enormous potential but a lack of focus. It was a challenge to create something out of nothing." He had found a new home for his passion in East Los Angeles, a community that was raw and unpretentious, brimming with artistic energy. He had established the Vincent Price Gallery, a humble room filled with his personal collection—Picasso prints, pre-Columbian artifacts, African art—an eclectic assortment of treasures meant to spark a love for art in the young minds of East Los Angeles. "It was the most satisfactory thing I've ever done," he said, his voice full of quiet pride, “because it was a way to give back. It was a way to remind myself of what I believed in: the power of art to elevate, to inspire, to connect.") Edith went to the afterlife in 1977, She had become such an expert at manipulating her age that even the New York Times reported her as being 64 when in fact she was 70... They, Corale and Vincent, were together until she passed away in 1991 two days after his birthday. He would arrive in eternity two years later. Mary Grant died in 2002. ( talent and versatility home whose story is successful candy magnate provided a life charming and the sinister love was drawn to the shadows a career defined by a mansion of untamed spirits beyond the unsettling boundaries that embrace complexities of life and art of life or art exploration like the occult untamed beauty hidden world legacy of fascination this glimpse resonates through the impact of the view Ian saw outside just like the drawing UNTITLED HORSES AND BUFFALO but without the bison...) Ian went to sleep hungry. He dreamed of soup. Drooling awake he found Helena trying on white ice skates. Grandmother had even saved their original red case. Antiques, yet he thought he was still dreaming and circled back to the couch where he continued to dream. A fat man and a skinny girl at the front door. The corpulent fellow is placing a white tube on the handle. He feels confounded by his own dream - then it turns violent as he is given a pair of fine dress socks with a fancy French label another man storms in trying to take them for himself. Ian fights him in the dream yet in his rush to keep the gift he cannot reach the knife to make matters worse for the intruder and awakes with the hesitation that found him debating against trying to strangle the thief with his bare hands. He doesn't have a place for these people in his dreams within his memory. He settles himself and turns on the sofa. Drifting into another dream, he is told that his ex girlfriend has been given a role in a film. There is a video projected onto a tv set. A close up of her face as if a makeup artist is touching up her blush. She does not look good, he thinks. Her dark hair missing the bangs he considered signature. He tries to look beyond the screen but cannot. Darlene, well at least it was now someone whom he had known. He wanted to speak to her but she was in the television so he talked to himself. The sounds, of the words he had heard before Helena put them together, again rising in his thoughts...when i'm sixty four, no, that was the lonely heart's band song...when the long worms under cold feet still sex, no, it was six he was sure. He was starting to make the connection yet in a vague manner. He was also starting lose sight of Wilhemina and even Evlyn. His eyes, or rather his vision was seemingly enslaved by Helena except she was not in his dream but even absent he felt her call as if a summons to surrender all other desires - Summer was facing the fall and the semen in him now felt like a riot within his testicles - Suddenly, he wanted Helena but all he saw was the tv set...Darlene's movie playing without sound, he got up from the couch in his dream to either turn off the monitor or rub his erection against it. He awoke then without any exact recall of any of it as he shuffled back into reality - drowsy and somehow no longer hungry inside a house that he did not know which led him to venture out in order to pee...For an instant remembering the soup which made him drool. Meanwhile, Helena was speaking with the mystery woman. Well, she was listening more than talking. The mystery woman said, "arajdc. lwmn lwdc vfetajmnlwux, ozxymn olethbfzdc uxikxcxcetmn dcvfajiktv." Helena was defensive as she brushed her hair away from her shoulders, "You can't expect anyone to to wait for worms to start a conversation because of poem." The mystery woman squeezed her eyebrows together and responded; "dcetfzaj vfajetvfbdaj mniktvaj mnqslwxcrpdc bdlwmnajhbikbdbdar, lw ajwkajxc uxetxcmnikuxmnajem fzajhbajbd wkikxc emajhb fzetdcmn ikxcem dcqsaj lwdc uxajhbmniklwxc mnqsikmn xcajfzikmnetemajdc uxikxcxcetmn mnikbdtv." Helena now facing scientific fact, gave her some satisfaction; "All right, but even so, it is not impossible and besides that it perfectly conveys the feeling." The mystery woman paused, knowing that she was at her wits end and sighed; "Emet aretxy hbajikbdbdar olikxcmn qslwfz mnet mnqslwxctv etyn olethbfzdc olqsajxc qsaj mnqslwxctvdc etyn aretxy?" Well, Helena also sighed but a deeper breath - an air that knew there could be little common ground between poetry and science... Still, she was content, as the spell had proved itself set and Ian would surely do anything she asked... But the mystery woman's point left a shadow... A shadow that was wise as it understood that in fact Ian might repeat the words to someone else and in doing so unexpected consquences might flash out into the "literal" mind of another and therein even become a joke... She did not want this happen but knew that it was possible and so - in a manner of speaking - agreed to agree with the disagreeable fact. Ian, by now, had learned to navigate the house. He was about to swallow some more of his favorite potion as the gleaming light bulb electrified itself giving light to the old lavatory and making two western ribbon snakes, which were lounging in the nearly full bath tub, hiss at him. He shut the door as he stepped away from what he viewed as the spirits of Helena and the mystery women. Two women, two serpents...He longed to be with Wilhemina, well, really with Evlyn... Or even making love to Darlene on the tv, anything but this witchery! He was yet calm until the imp pulled at his recollection. That feeling of bone against his skin...No one had really hugged him since grade school, not with such force...It was as if the devilish lolita had left a tattoo upon his ribcage which was invisible except for the needling that remained now reanimated by a fright. He looked down at the floor as if it were a map that would tell him which way to turn. He did not remember what had happened within that embrace but it must have been something to still fire up such a feeling. A light crossed the floor's cinnamon boards and he looked up to see Helena. She smiled, breathing in, at him with desire in her eyes. Suddenly, he felt like himself, yes he thought - anything you say. In fact, he even heard the worms slowly wiggle out words..She is not an ophidian, she is not ophic, she is of your own heart's love. ENDING NOTES FOR THE YET UNTITLED CHAPTER TWO BEFORE THE PRETTY HORSES HAVE THEIR POV SAY IN CHAPTER THREE... 9.9.2024 Helena had left. Left had Helena to a place she only mentioned as her best friend's house. A brown handbag bizzarely adorned with wooden clothes pins was left behind as if to haunt Ian, to remind him that she was intent on returning to finish this homemade fixing, this drying glue at some of the worn edges that had come to resemble little leather mouths attempting conversations beyond the purse. Within the purity of his newfound unknowingness, he imagined them, the clothes pin, as worms which indeed felt to his ear as if speaking... Well, not the words which he kept trying to comprehend as they revolved in his thoughts as if needing to be mused over, memorized, to be the only music he could dance to - The thought stopped his thinking. A dancer? Was he a dancer? He couldn't be sure. Suddenly an impulse to attempt a sliding sort of tango giro step into a split led him to grab the energetic mystery woman from the couch potato creature she had become while Helena was away... His legs tingled as he dared to revolt against the put together pixels scrambling his thoughts which she seemed to love... He pulled her as if possessed and her legs followed his with a sort of upsidedown smile that refused to give any hint of herself, but Ian didn't care what she might make of this boldness, of this carefree exploration, of this forced gesture...He jolted himself as he felt a return to when the television felt friendly as in the dream of his ex or even "Service Deluxe," still the noise that had crept in while Helena was gone held sway in his bloodstream as if they had outnumbered oxygen in the air... Stil, he was shaking them off; The scenes had already surrendered to his blenderesque mind which turned ----- the awfully dizzying "My First Film," the innuendo riddled "Rain," (wherein he actually saw himself as Joan Crawford) the sexually charged Russian "Succubus," a series of orgiastic news teasers along with actual news of Taylor Swift doing nothing anyone could logically explain given the already overflowing library of Swifties this that and the other tidbits - given the death tolls that were broadcast without any celebrity urgency...what was a tanker explosion overseas...what were forty thousand dead Palestinians...what was Ukraine without an after tour press spree? a show called "The Bear" with an actual man more ursidaen than human save for a moustache, some debate over accepting an obviously inept candidate or burning down the country in which he couldn't help but giggle as he recalled some distant history lesson where the buffalo were exterminated to starve the native indians, Ian thought, the war of Independence was burning down England and maybe France too, the Civil war was even worse and these talking heads would rather vote for idiots well - sinister flimflam professionals posing as idiots, he corrected his train of thought - terribly selfish fools would rather hold the party line than rebuild the land... A band called the Presidential debate played last, the heavy makeup weighing the notes down, it was a man and a woman but neither of them said anything that would cause a revolution, they didn't even talk fast as would be the norm say in a bar or a dorm - no, in fact when flustered their speech slowed as if trying to serve that one soundbyte which would get their finger on the bomb... boom -----into a weird, expanding, collage, instead of entertainment and politics (although nobody could tell the two classes apart) with another clown presidency on the way. Did they even need to Charlie Alpha Red signal the secret for some gung ho military honcho to put his head down and press that end of world party button or could they merely imagine it and bang...Yes, sure, Ian judged, it was like having a million dollars but still taking the bus simply for the vibe. The energetic mystery woman detonated into a split alongside Ian who took a long couple of seconds to slide his hand gently from her thigh to her ankle as the suddenly upturned skirt waited to leave the wild scene it encountered by surprise as Ian realized he might be a dancer or at least someone that had taken enough lessons to easily perform a forward cross and drag his partner into a nearly full split. The mystery woman remained silent through it all, ruffling down the rifled cloth that covered her legs down to the knees, she stood only to sit again in front of the glowing sound box which kept having something to offer hour after hour, day after day. Her skin, to his touch, had felt neither hot nor cold. It was like touching a vape which smoked out without a reaction in itself. The ashes in his mind's eye scattered, that media cigarette made his soul cough and it resounded in his brain's hearing as an echo without purpose. A strange repetition of nonsense or even songs he didn't exactly like...A fast food commercial jingle juggled against 'never gonna give you up' which he couldn't decide what it might mean - mafia vows? his ex in a telepathic seance telling him forever? Some of the other lyrics were 'We've known each other for so long /Your heart's been aching, but you're too shy to say it Inside, we both know what's been going on We know the game and we're gonna play it..." But they would have been foreign to him like French in a Greek diner. DO I LOOK LIKE I GOT A BAGUETTE, MONSIOUR? YOU WANT I SHOULD CHECK THE INSIDE OF MY BUTT FOR SOME BREAD, HUH - He must have heard the song at some point, somewhere...He didn't think it might have been a tune from his earliest days, from his infancy. Heard it through his mom... Yet, he only associated her with Jethro Tull. But it had to be from those days before he was aware of himself, before he realized what he was and what he wasn't and started hiding it. For a minute, in the middle of that echoing, it all felt so silly...What was the next line? Never gonna give you up or hurry you or hurt you or who knows...Truly even tortured he could only guess. He didn't have to guess about hope, however, there was hope in the telephone, that phone call to his mother..Oh, no that was only him pleasing himself. A masturbation of the emotions to ejaculate into even more masks. Was he, even now, telling himself he was a dancer so he wouldn't have to tell himself he was a drug addict. A drug addict now holding a double need with the desire for Helena and even for her worms. The world met another midnight and she made the front door's opening and closing clatter sound like magic. Like magic, Helena had arrived while a smile broke through Ian's present mask. _________________________________________________________ (*1) Friend, his lack of wisdom makes the path of life wane.




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