#82

dont tell mom i work in a gas station because she thinks i sell little boys on the black market and its best for everyone if she goes on believing because if she thinks ive got a straight job i could be in for a lot of praise and love and pats on the back and i cant deal with shit like that like i cant even return a phone call so i cant be expected to reciprocate real emotions for christs sake and im sorry im getting all wound up but its just real important to me that you keep this to yourself and you cant tell anyone and i mean anyone that you saw me here because everyone thinks im in thailand selling nine year olds and you know how things get around and if people found out i was lying id be in big trouble with a lot of my old friends and you wouldnt do that to me i know you wouldnt but anyway this jobs not so bad except for the hours and the pay but at least i dont have to think much just standing behind the counter all night dealing with customers and man was i surprised when your ass walked in here way the fuck out in the cut out here you gave me a hell of a surprise so if you see mom dont tell her about this just tell her i called from thailand asking for money

#81

i found my restart button this morning but im afraid to push it because you never know when your system might get stuck in a loop or if the central processing unit might mistake a restart command for a shut down not to mention im not even quite sure what happens in a restart and just how drastic a step it would be to start again so i want to know all the details like how much memory is lost and if i will i recognize myself when the system reboots or will i have to upload everything all over again just to find myself in this same position a quarter century down the road contemplating whether or not to press the button never suspecting i had done it before and then pressing it perpetuating a loop that has been going on for who knows how many lifetimes erasing who knows how much memory forsaking who knows how many ones and zeroes for a little piece of ignorant oblivion that lasts not quite long enough for me to rediscover my restart button at a time when i would be likely to hide it away and forget

#80

a shadow took my expectations one fine spring morning and swung away on his trapeze toward memphis and because when you love somebody enough you follow wherever they go i even went down to the river of dreams so sweet you get out and in minutes youre covered by a hard candy shell and your only hope is for someone to come by and lick you free on a skateboard ramp in the suburbs as the mad hatter walks across the blvd with the bad boys who aint got time for school or girls who wanna live their own lives of silence and pain and regret both personal and professional but they teach themselves to regret only the things they havent done and they end up fried like a coupla ovaries on the florida asphalt under the magnifying glass of a curious preteen whose sister wont let him into her room because shes a few years older and feels that his presence is an affront to the popularity that exists only in her mind as her boyfriend will soon dump her pimply ass on the side of the new jersey turnpike and never look back as he hops on the 80 west and revs that suicide grunt on through chicago to the 76 to the 70 to the 15 to the 10 hoping to find that goddam trapeze swinger somewhere on the edge of the world

#79

according to the menu at that dessert place in seattle that we used to go to whenever there was something to celebrate voltaire used to drink fifty cups of coffee mixed with chocolate everyday which means he must have worked sitting on a toilet because there aint no other way he could have gotten anything done and i dont know much about voltaire but i seem to remember that he had a pretty substantial output so now any time i hear his name i picture some old french butt cheeks pressed against porcelain lit by the flicker of a single dripping candle which also lights the parchment upon which he writes with a quill and i wonder often if the toilets back then could flush like ours do today or if voltaire just sat on top of a monumental pile of bust doing his best to trap the fumes in the pot with his legs otherwise it would have been incredibly difficult for him to work with such fumes constantly in his nose but i guess one can eventually get used to any smell until you dont even notice it any more but thats gross because when you smell something that means little particles of whatever youre smelling are in your nose so i guess we can conclude that voltaire did a damn admirable job in the face of his adversities

#78

helluva melvin flow chart scat child baby bomber jacket off course son of your own mother it hit me like a steel toed boot in the temple that i was neglecting my holy temple by using it only as a transportation and thinking device which is a complete insult to hedonism which calls for a full engagement of all pleasure sensors most of which are located in or under your skin in your meat and they need their due every now and then so i took them for a run around the block and they already sent some good vibes back to my brain which one must not forget is a physical part of the body and all memories sensations emotions are all measurable because they are but chemical reactions set off by slight physical changes so dont go milling around in a grain silo looking for chickens when you should be in the chicken coop picking out dough and considering which one of your feathered friends you will slaughter and feed to your family because they need to grow up strong because their chemical brains are more important than those of the chickens and sometimes your chemical brain decides it would die for the sake of another chemical brain

#77

sitting in the wealthiest suburb of the frenchest city in france scribbling symbols with a stolen pen on a notebook that should have been filled up hundreds of days ago waiting for the update to finish installing sitting cockeyed on a broken chair trying to keep the flow going trying to keep from glancing at the computer screen trying to keep from looking out the window at the sleet and the street light trying to avoid real problems getting distracted by the wooden floor trying to figure out what if anything is important trying to stay interested in something anything anyone for more than a couple hours trying not to be rude trying not to masturbate trying not to give in and go to bed trying not to make any noise trying not to be antisocial trying to make sense of trying without knowing why trying to get comfortable trying to make arrangements for my mother trying to keep this clean trying not to hold back looking at my hand holding the pen trying to purge trying to masochize trying to let the bile out with the blood trying to live trying to get the fuck over it trying to be a good friend trying not to try and just be

#76

jesus walked on water then turned it into wine but nobody drank it because it smelled like feet and one can only imagine what stench feet used to give off in those days even though feet were washed every now and again i bet they didnt have anywhere near the disinfectant formulas we have today in such excellent products as comet ajax or even better dove soap which leaves your skin feeling silky smooth and moisturized in addition to being ninety nine point eight percent anti bacterial which is a pretty amazing accomplishment and one that we citizens of a modern world too often take for granted and just imagine what it took for jesus to be so friggin nice in an era before soap that cleaned and moisturized at the same time and before massaging showerhead attachments and bath beads which i guess is one reason why i so sincerely doubt that the bible is completely true because honestly its impossible to be nice to everybody if you havent showered that day but if im wrong and they did have showers back then i guess i can conceive of it but then again im almost positive they didnt have bumble and bumble

#75

any thoughts have shriveled to a definable nothing and formed only what resembles traditional completions since his arrival on the other side of the pond surrounded by masterpieces and structure and comfortably situated in the suburb where the city doesn't reach its grimy and inspirational hands to drive him to insanity and creativity and possibly something worth sharing with the public at large and valuable enough to be translated or subtitled and exploited in countries around the conscious universe and influence a generation of losers toward a fruitless artistic passion that does nothing but separate one from the places and people he so loves and with whom he wishes to establish himself as part of a community except there is a sort of gypsy international community of people one might ramble and beg with around the world but its quite a fractured and amorphous community of lost souls and runners from who knows and there is a distinct lack of the solidity that usually defines community as the word was originally conceived meaning a group of people defined by similar moral views and usually a common locale