Friday, March 18, 2016

On Vacation

Outside the chalet over near the slope waiting for the second coming, an assortment of family and holy hosts and surrealistic creatures, in the paper some high strung fucker said it happens today right now, the inane things that people do but there was nothing to do here anyway none of the sweaters or haircuts on a real vacation look like the 70s movies in Europe about spies or avalanches and movement’s got to be as routine as lying around, hollowness to look forward to afterwards vacations don’t always help. And it looks like snow in the north. The second coming of my big ass, the world goes on hopefully

Thursday, March 17, 2016

Gold Cat

Don’t let em get to you, those fuckers, freed themself 
of a custom or two but in the end all they did is made new rules anyway and rules is rules, custom or not. You don’t need that, you don’t do rules…get yourself a gold cat idol and girl with a fizzy gait vector and thick gooey conscience that doesn’t do cool, raise a no-function slab of colors that aren’t together out of parsimonious debate and go out where the distances are layered thick so a low incline road looks almost vertical…sensual fantasy in the outdoors is for old Greek books, for the intellectualizing and aestheticizing of it all but for the real senses and psyche nature’s already got gorgeous obscenity taken full care of, fantasy is for the indoors, a few fixation clues but blank space for the senses that wanted this all…eating in the outdoors is for manual labor, tomato, lettuce, & ham sandwich with dirt and sweat but sport amusement eating is for inside, textured, clammy, & variegated in excess of function is already full on in nature so picnics and sidewalk lunches are viscosity doubled up on viscosity. All of this…only until it all turns into a rule…out in the grass and hills, a gold cat cult, rest your psyche and senses off, when urges send you back indoors let em loose, trash some customs, keep some and sully them in goo as you like, or not, either way, any way, no way, it’s of no consequence anyway

Tuesday, March 15, 2016

Baggage and complexes

Here's what's still left of my baggage and complexes. I like to throw them at people with totally different ones - since our complexes aren't aligned mine hit them where they're confident making them less sure, and theirs hit me where I'm complacent making me feel jealous, insufficient - I can ignore a memory of a fake-brick linoleum floor, I can diss a challenge when I don't give a fuck, and me and my leftover complexes can sit in the row between asserting individual and inevitable cooperating social and hang with them all without having to decide for sure who I want to sit with

Monday, March 14, 2016

Ei Missään Tapauksessa

Missään tapauksessa can there be Love Theme From Kiss … Love Theme From Kiss … Love Theme From Kiss, Love Them From Kiss, nor there be ball … or be dope … or be vibes … or be guide from skeletal collection of notions … or needles stuck on the ass of a super rich fucker, no rich fucker’s ass stuck in the eye of a needle with crap in the needle’s eye … can be no crap on needles, no crush, no love theme in a positivist zone … be no fixed value outside sense verify matter, peace can mean needle, hard or easy, rich, minus, or out of bounds, mean nothing and anything including nothing in a positivist zone and fondness can mean I skipped down a sidewalk and a light shone on me, or a stove or a girl that smells like a cigarette, in a positivist zone… can never be made good on again, ei missään tapauksessa