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.
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(*1)
Friend, his lack of wisdom makes the path of life wane.