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29 January 2015

wanted - by owner

In pain, please help - $100 (whittier)
in a lot of pain. can someone help

17 January 2015

The last comment left for me

evidence tampering, really a felony. want to know more about evidence tampering. http://friscopaul.blogspot.com/2014/02/writ-of-habeas-frisco-police-department.html on Archipelago (7/8)
on 4/8/14

10 January 2015

After he

I'm turning
biographical upsets
into
autobiographical revisions.
It's not working
with my angles.

I'm burning
old receipts
and
new clothes.
It's a waste
of my resources.

I'm learning
German,
not
French.
It's increasing
my (self) worth.

I'm earning
my place
in
space.
It's (not) replacing
my love.

24 September 2014

I don't remember writing this.

Dowels of half-cocked assurances pick up stick through me and open suppurating portholes.  I'm reminded of that high school production of Anything Goes.  Angels blowing.  Lamenting nowadays. Everything jumping away from tune with the exuberance of three thousand eyes on you.  Pancake makeup drying future flowers.

"Sing" everyone tells me.  After an hour on Youtube recording my warbling the advice is lost on me, having been repeated into unfamiliarity.  SING SING SING SING SING SINGING SINGER SING SANG SUNG SINGED.  All it does is make me 17.  And fat.

I'm taking on water.  Rather, I need bailing out—I don't know about the within and without of the moisture.  It feels much more forced and created from thin air than the process of transferring the sea through the barrier of skin.  There's a lot that needs letting out.  This ship is really a few plywood flats painted white and gray.

Yesterday I threw away some rotten tomatoes.  Lucky little tomatoes that got to give up.  Hold on.  Before long I'l have to make sure that dreams weren't involved in this ramble.  And then I'll remember how far away dreams are.  Blown across the world by Gabriel and his paper måché trumpet. Today and twelve years ago to this day.  Two times the presence.
Who is partying the stories? If you want that question to bear a resemblance to rhetorical, take a whack at it.

Lunch hour

Bud! Look!
Laughter laughter I think
Um…
Ow, only, the dead one mark it comingtake the trailclick.
Bark his dark sunglasses laughter laughter I whet I’m gonna take off, um, I’ll see you on Monday let me know if there’s anything, ok, bye.
Bye.
Draaahhh, oh crap floppy brown hair dark sunglasses white white teeth. Lookah here. Laughter only one grid click clop clop a rhythm. Byeeeee
Turn and open wait wait wait wiat a little bit more close.
A girl’s voice.


Whoop.

07 September 2014

January 21, 2014


Oh SOophia I wasn’t talking to myself I was talking to the dog.
Only if he can find his owner before Dorothy gets home, she hates dogd.
Oh he likes me, he must be a male-mind? Min of course I mind, you cant keep that filthy beast in my house.
Laughter
You won’t even know he’s here.
Dorothy has to say it’s ok, too.
H=That seems fair.
Ive had it, Ive just had it. In the past few days Ive been turnd down for every available part-time job.
Right. Its dteady work, they supply the uniform, and you’re married to God.
STOP