Wick, Burn It

Has there been a fantasy about being able to see through my eyelids and float just above the ground, smooth. Push I do through the dream like flying but supported by breathing. The faces in the window are often perplexed, but there is nothing I can do about that. Sometimes I think that they can read my mind, and I struggle to hide my thoughts, but that interrupts the imagination I once treasured as so much more pure than that of all other humans, I could hold onto it when I was feeling pleased. For once I am glad to see those toxic yellow jerzis, they slow down the train to my satisfaction and the earth doesn't shatter as often, but I'm still wondering where this is all going. Rickshaws are pretty useless in this town but they use them anyway. All you had to do was ask and there would be a grape on your tongue and a hand fondling your buttcheeks, what do they say about knowing what to say in most situations? I feel that there could be a witty asertation of the facts in this case but it takes just that extra split second too long for me to be as smart as I once was, and so in order to hold a coherent conversation there are going to have to be some really serious changes in this particular curriculum. And all he asked me was just this one half assed question designed to put me on the defensive, and here was a reason for me to forget pretty much everything I thought I was going to say, because without the right sort of alertness I was unable to provide for these people the right kind of work when I blink my eyes you can see that there is a code that we are trying to keep very secret, much like the arrangement of the navajo who have always known that there is a house for the spirit, and what is it that I was trying to say that someone recently also pointed out, that there was a risk involved when you are going to use a real navajo in order to put into practice the interesting parts of navajo tradition, so the stupid easy way to do it is to sho the intrepid american who was raised by indians, an he gets to tell you all the neat spirit stuff.

Soft Drink Expansion

Why didn't they finish this building? Try to look like the Eiffel Tower, no drywall lets the air come through in such a way that slows my descent but I don't mind streaming through it for now, it's pretty easy. If I want I reach out as far as I can, discarding my fear of the rust that corrodes the steel, but it doesn't offer any better grip than I thought I was going to have to have in the breakfast cereal that allows me to cry myself to sleep and the ghost is all I was trying to think of, while quickly I deecide whether the point should be belabored, a concept of which I am quite familiar but there seems to be some distractions that allow my brain to be frustrated, all I want to do is to make something beautiful, and here if I try it will all be me, no matter how I try to hid the inside places where I store all the equale places of the pantric bellowheeze. And here about this time I begin to wonder if the bent concetration is possible without these sort of distractions that seem to want to refuse to create new experiences for me that very well should make me a smarter person but intead of broadening what should be a wide open path there is an obsession that really wants to close my mind in a lot of ways because there are so many things that I have to work out ahead of time in order for me to be able to articulate what I have to say in such a way that any person who has the patience to listen to me will understand and then I look at her with derision because she mirrors this flaw in me, though without the proper area of study you will never know, and here you have touched on an interesting point, you can think that there is a base amount of intelligence but what do you suppose you are going to do when ther eis no more things in there left to read, left worth reading at all, and this is what I was trying to communicate to you whenever I thought there would be the possibility but even now at the end there is very little that I will be able to do with this information, as there was something about the smart people we all thought we were, and here we have a class that starts at the newest possible moment, here in the evening I was waiting for a meteor shower and all we had to do was wait for a bit and under there we could see something there, I didn't understand what he was saying because he talks so fast and I tried to respond with an intelligent answer but all I had was a green thermos.

Arugalormel Cheeli

Want doof traggos? Thinking of yube. Arbello wishes not the bebbest. Which grab dibbint you reegle. Santo break thanks to fore am paff. We are so happy to have you on the team. Since I was waiting for a place that would let me run from my own head I thought I might be interested to know that I still have to think of things as if they haven't happened yet even if a phrase rolls off so easily because it fits together so well. ANd I don't remember thinking about that dragonfly gulping down bugs, and I don't remember hearing the train go by and breaking down on the flammable railroad ties, and I don't remember an enormous wrench that rips open bolts with superhuman leverage, and I can't tell what is past the sky even though it acts like a shell and I can't leave it's hard to imagine an environment less suited for human existence than this irradiated nightmarescape. But here I take an interest in some of the things I was supposed to be exposed to, and press the mind forward a bit at a time, ignore the physical, distinguish the real from the apparent, move past the desire for music because that is strictly emotive and experiential while writing seeks to bring a balance between that an the intellectual, that balance is the strength and the key to existence free from distractions, in a library, each separate book is an anthology of the possibilities of my life, and when I pick one from the shelf I notice mistakes I have made but I feel no regret, because the page serves a purpose and the black text is substantial, and substance is all I the reason I need to exist. A while of wandering and I notice that in one room time moves so fast that my muscles creak against my skeleton and my head feels too heavy and soggy to be supported by my neck, my guts are in turmoil there until I crawl to the next room and I feel the plaque crumbling up and dissolving inside me, and flushing out in rivulets leaving the muscles clear, I watch the fluid drain away from me, reach out my finger and press bits of solid matter against the tile floor, it feels sandy under my finger when I scrape it aside, then find I can stand, and standing breathe deeper and climb to the highest bookshelf, the top of a warehouse, and dig forth, nuzzling between the ooks like a kitten into the crook of an arm, working my body, fitting between them. I can see outward now, from my nest of dark books in shadow, miles of bookshelves that curl downward at four separate points like arms of a starfish, and I am comfortable and safe in the darkness, my breathing energizing my brain, my body beginning to slide into the books, pressed between them, absorbed into them, it pinches me until I am no longer conscious and my eyeballs are pressed flat.

Arugalormel Cheeli

Want doof traggos? Thinking of yube. Arbello wishes not the bebbest. Which grab dibbint you reegle. Santo break thanks to fore am paff. We are so happy to have you on the team. Since I was waiting for a place that would let me run from my own head I thought I might be interested to know that I still have to think of things as if they haven't happened yet even if a phrase rolls off so easily because it fits together so well. ANd I don't remember thinking about that dragonfly gulping down bugs, and I don't remember hearing the train go by and breaking down on the flammable railroad ties, and I don't remember an enormous wrench that rips open bolts with superhuman leverage, and I can't tell what is past the sky even though it acts like a shell and I can't leave it's hard to imagine an environment less suited for human existence than this irradiated nightmarescape. But here I take an interest in some of the things I was supposed to be exposed to, and press the mind forward a bit at a time, ignore the physical, distinguish the real from the apparent, move past the desire for music because that is strictly emotive and experiential while writing seeks to bring a balance between that an the intellectual, that balance is the strength and the key to existence free from distractions, in a library, each separate book is an anthology of the possibilities of my life, and when I pick one from the shelf I notice mistakes I have made but I feel no regret, because the page serves a purpose and the black text is substantial, and substance is all I the reason I need to exist. A while of wandering and I notice that in one room time moves so fast that my muscles creak against my skeleton and my head feels too heavy and soggy to be supported by my neck, my guts are in turmoil there until I crawl to the next room and I feel the plaque crumbling up and dissolving inside me, and flushing out in rivulets leaving the muscles clear, I watch the fluid drain away from me, reach out my finger and press bits of solid matter against the tile floor, it feels sandy under my finger when I scrape it aside, then find I can stand, and standing breathe deeper and climb to the highest bookshelf, the top of a warehouse, and dig forth, nuzzling between the ooks like a kitten into the crook of an arm, working my body, fitting between them. I can see outward now, from my nest of dark books in shadow, miles of bookshelves that curl downward at four separate points like arms of a starfish, and I am comfortable and safe in the darkness, my breathing energizing my brain, my body beginning to slide into the books, pressed between them, absorbed into them, it pinches me until I am no longer conscious and my eyeballs are pressed flat.

Insightolluver's Traggles

Today I am going to today I am going to today I am going to today I am going to tell me what I did today. Thank the beak they were supposed to fly faster, without a doubt I wondered when it wasn't going to take that so seriously but there we have it folks, an no dreams which are good enough can break into the self censorship of the past that I was trying to make with several packets of strange foods designed to allow me to outlast the oh that's right she did die didn't she all I had to do was ask, but that was when it was so hot that I had to worry about all kinds of things like that and the balance I had chosen for my head was not cathartic enough, I had to shave it all off and take a shower in mud, but that simply isn't going to get me anywhere any longer, because on the top it's all coming off, so I ask all around me myself whether those certain things are worth it when I fight against time but there is not distraction coming in here or around here so I think that should win me a bit of leeway should I determine that there are several things worth having in that sort of situation, several times he has insinuated that it was your fault that the certain thing wasn't done, we needed that week, and the symbol comes flying out so there will not be much time after all as they are going to have to pull up the blinds and rip into the minds.

Grebellicue

It was a farce, I tell you a farce, I tell you. No one would have let it rain that long if the green was on still, I ran as fast as I could underwater but the best I could manage to kick up was a current, and the old hatchback roll right over that guy's body. I let it gel in my mind, the light bends through it still focused and the picture is one with hidden brushstrokes, something honest and possibly charming but three dimensional, or possibly not a numerical dimension but an internal dimensionality that never needs to be defined to anyone else, except to project the visual and the impact of the dream. "The next time you turn into a boy, will you kick your brother's ass for me?" I am a tactician, you rely on me at all times to push you through the opposing elements. I will them away from me and they fall like starved gulls into the ocean. I don't care to kill or mind if I die, for this dream I know the end to, and I am not invincible but a force that props up the image, so we can all see through the day what will be left once my legs are broken and my teeth no longer function, I am then a cage to restrain all of the dark matter compiled through my lifetime, it is now a task saved for gods to keep it from rupturing and overwhelming the field of vision.

Inteldogpile

A huge grimy truck speeding up to the red light, I can hear the gears shifting, the engine roar alters pitch. A long line of bikers pushing against the wind. I pass them when I can but the water isn't rippling enough to sufficiently recreate the drama. Feel like dismemberment plan doing what DC bands were doing fifteen years ago with more sophisticated production. Silence settles in when the third person chooses to work. Harder than it was supposed to be. A bowling shirt. An angry look, a stare down from a middleaged mad wearing a back pack, I wonder at how strangers moods effect one another, and smile at all the rest of the people I see, but the smile is a caricature, a joker grin that only confuses people. When will I get to sing on the bike, breathlessness of late, out of shape, should make a regular habit of taking the lake, halsted is an easy route, though more dangerous. Don't get the work out.

Variouseriousilly

With the proper time and motivation all things that conspire together to form ambition will be see through but the question is are there unseen sacrifices or vices which you are unwilling to give up, the answer is yes. And though there you find yourself sitting back and watching things that other people have created, hackwork that satisfies the greed of advertisers and network executives you can see the bones and wires of it, the motivation behind the brush strokes and it dries it out for you, It's not a matter of intelligence but how willing you are to learn from what you have already seen, or so if I dare say to die you will find will to hire for yourself a readily firing synapse that describes it all to you in a flash but lets not take the time to dissect the meaning of the revelation. And when you formulate opinions the lesser pragmatists find you critical and you are inclined to agree with that because you are fucking letting everything spin past you like time is nothing and there is no hurry for anything, and contentedness and the next thing you know seem to go right along with one another like firey bloom, where is your sense of humor, all you can do is to feel either inferior or superior to the individuals you interact with, such the way to dictate the way you carry yourself, the level of confidence with which you project your personality, and at first there is a suggestion that somewhere in the middle if a person who you could find a real connection with, a pal or buddy or mate, but that is a horseshit proposition when to begin with the social perspective is one mitigated on judging others, not the least ofd which reason being that the realigning the judgements as you gain more information is stressful and maintenance of the judgement is bigoted. Do you have an answer why here in this year long anniversary between you and she that you allow yourself to say something that you know is going to upset her, hurt her, no it's because you push for what you want and if you can see a way that you can get it you will take chances like that thinking that you are eloquent or skilled enough to stifle the fallout and patch up the wounds but the danger is that you are taking bits of her away, you know that she will try to change herself for you but then what? Who are you to make another person change who they are, and if they start to change are you going to take hold of those changes and be sure to mold them into this ideal fucking model human that somehow reflects your whim so much so that you end up with a person like Michael Jackson who changed himself around so many times in response to what the rest of the world wanted that the only way he could deal with it is to regress to a state of deluded childlike innocence.

Backlash

Backlash boom we all pay attention and give our input then there is a backlash boom we see something interesting and figure out a way to get people to give us attention by means of it and hopefully make some money and then there is a backlash boom I hear a rumor and there is no cause for it but there it is as true as a mountain top explosion and the people feed from it and add in ideas which evolve into new ideas that cover all ground and then boom there is a backlash you get curious about the wind cracking and look out the window but that is the main thing that usually distracts you from a train of thought that people once credited you with leading to a revelation and bam there is something to ponder but it never takes vey long for new information to discredit your conclusions because while there is evidence to back up a new position which offers a comparitively wide perspective the evidence itself is a perspective that can be interpreted in so many separate ways that it is useless and then you ask yourself what is the role of guilt in your daily existence when any point of view might suffice do induce your peace of mind but the fact of the matter is you know that you are the only one that needs to know that the true crime is that all perspectives have not been considered before you engrave your position into the air for all to live with and somehow that really scares the shit out of you because you have perpetually lived your life as if all things you do are to be considered and weighed in the minds of others. But look back on this line of thinking and then separately apply it to each individual and then breathe the air directly into your brain, the blood will be redder and the thinking not so corrupted with plaquey filaments of doubt. Get on with things and there will be no reason for justification of betraying yourself and widening the unused space in your brain.