'I'm going to have sex with the souls written into your books'

my dreams become realer and realer every morning. It's a reality. I know it.

real realer reality
couchcrampcrunch, fuckers (it's a dance from the trailer infested faraway deserts, a place to party, a place to be home)

writing the themes for your own fantasies

you terrify me. I must say, as an authoritative figure.

Oliphander the Unstoppable

you're in the city leone. I've heard all about how beautiful you look in the elevators when cited by my explorer roommates, they go into the wild of the deep artschool holes in our city, and find you! the rare and treasured leone reevus monster, powers uncountable.

introvert penis pie
?

pomegranate photo is arousing. pineapples growing as well. whats next.
the pomegranate is broken in half in this photo, seeds falling out, there are so many it cannot contain them in one half. seeds. this is strange and interesting.

i feel like your brain is always ticking away at rocks bigger than jupiter
thinking things out and sculpting some shape in your head to make sense


(dear author i
obsessstalkjackofftodesire
of my choosing):

I'm going to have sex with the souls written into your books
when you look down to your nevermoving desk of subconsciousness realized and confronted below and see us,
I'll tickle the timid toes of your security

neophyte=a person who is new to a subject, skill, or belief

the way a pineapple grows is subtly seductive

and there it was, blending in with the tree bark, wings folded around its belly, a small lizard.

there's so many pregnant ladies everywhere and all i want to do is touch tummies but that's harassment. ):

my dad's etiquette iq is roughly estimate 20. one can innocently be an asshole.

I'm in a swamp when I'm in my happy intoxication location
there are fireflies and frogs and firecrackers

he makes me want it, OW! -basketball?

my heart does not beat with a tempo and it's ruined a potential career. whether it's prostitution, stripping or composing, i don't care to un-blur the options.

fat italian man takes a shit in a grimy truck stop bathroom reading the classified ads. 'hey, a 1,500$ 1967 karmann ghia that (I will never) could fix up!'

why are crop circles so preeeetttyyyy

'(Hermeticism)Holds that if we would attain to the Divine, we must aspire to the Divine; spiritual growth cannot be achieved without human effort'
-http://www.hermeticfellowship.org/HFHermeticism.html
there is little human effort in this day and perhaps that is the reason our world is in chaos. Or perhaps the world has always been in this state of chaos, and our time's chaos is a consistent heartbeat of the planet. I have a feeling that our time's heartbeat is far faster and heavier though, but I might just be really really stupid.

ascetic= potentially a dirty, dirty word

grimoires (definition- a book of magic spells and invocations circa mediaeval times)
grime
grim
?

amalgam! = a mixture or blend

neophyte, root of noob. (neophyte=a person who is new to a subject, skill, or belief)
-i realize that as a facebook status, this is friendly, opening arms to a conversation or thought, i am not attacking. this is because, i think, there is no period after the word belief. imagine that there was:
neophyte, root of noob. (neophyte=a person who is new to a subject, skill, or belief.)
with the period, does that statement not seem more dominant, as opposed to peaceful and neutral like the one before? with a period, i feel that as the writer of this status, I would seem to my friends more likely to oppose anyone with different ideas or beliefs than myself.
more importantly, by choosing to remove the period in this status, i and subconsciously choosing the road to peace and just confrontation.
facebook stati = the art of writing facebook statuses.

fake dying on the slide. 'i hate you bye.' 'noooooo!!!!' (down the slide...)

hope is lost, do not name friends.

I saw blood spray across a pick guard last night

jaw breakers: the new hope!

i see myself in the window reflection walking confidently like a cowboy.

"You telling these miserable, Hell-bound, bath house-wallowing, anal-copulating fags that God loves them!? You have bats in the belfry!" Fred Phelps (is fucking hilarious)

that's like bleaching your asshole twice a month, or fake tanning

sun, burn me up please

emily and I just covered an entire fnews magazine with red upside down crucifixes on each forehead.

andre to evan (twin 1 to twin 2): you aren't invited to my birthday party.

my mind is filled with cowboys indians and mutherfucking dragons bitches run in fear or be stampeded by sweet smiling revenge you sick deprivations of soul sucking glory

people have the ability to walk like a confident cowboy convincingly and in fact be filled with failure. it is perfect and awful
I am not exactly saying that person is me, but it might.






home planet: nevada city, sounds like the smashing pumpkins, smells like hippie and cheap perfume, magic. there's a lot of magic. calvin is a big part of it. court house. our play house to, calvin's pool, batman, big box of clothes, magic filled, different universes available in its clothing, getting punched in the stomach and falling into it getting stuck for a long time alone with the lights off, someone stealing my favorite fucking purple crystal from my mom saying i was lying on the big slide, they were older bullies, midge not believing me. death. people who helped me and my dad. that one mean girls parents, calvin's mom. my dad working for the city doing construction. the bridge he made with my name on it. that being my one claim to fame for a day. it made me cool. i was respected. i ran behind it into the woods along the river without permission. didn't get in trouble.
always winning the drawing contests at the pizza parlor on the first street and getting free pizza with mom. the kite store. the magic shop. the CANDY SHOP. late night sushi and bar hopping. hot summer nights and the christmas lights all over the town and the streets being shut off with all the people and the wizard who could throw fire in the air, the fairy store with all the big fake tall trees going up and building the ceiling, the herb shop's basement and eating organic pizza and playing with play-dough and my little pony with zoe in it. zoe's mom giving us free fruit leather.
zoe and cristy belly dancing and playing violin outside the store for money and getting in the paper. me being sad because they didn't invite me.
swimming in the pool around in circles with calvin to make a tornado. how the water was warm. wanting to cut it open.
calvin's bigger pool and garden, and weird al on his radio and trying not to slip on the wet wood while jumping.
madeline on rainy days. peppito was the shit. them not letting me play the addam's family for everyone because it was to scary. lame. playing witches and old lady mom in the tv room. that one weird hole in the wall we could sit in and climb up with our legs and our backs.
i fucking hate nap time. the mats were so cold. bastards.
time out. all the time.
the cult of cats zoe and cristy and other people i don't remember and me started with the facepaint, upside down cross exes on our foreheads and whiskers with noses, and torches to carry made of paper. the next day we asked for the same makeup and they wouldn't do it the same, we got angry and stole the paint and did it ourselves. they didn't say anything. ha.
crab apple tree. stairs to no where.
CAT TAILS across the fence! the fuzz! and the fake gas station and the bikes and the wet chalk drawing with that one hippie lady who babysat me with the moon's in her house and her boyfriend, the licorice plant that tasted like shit that everyone seemed to like a whole lot.

laying in the hammock at the back of the play thing in the shade on the hill, all the boys around me on the first wooden platform, and calvin telling his penguin joke saying 'DON'T TELL THEM MERCEDES' and me being like 'ok i won't!' and he tells them the joke and they don't get it and say something and i think calvin had just told them and I say it again and start laughing and he hadn't. he didn't speak to me for two days. I felt so bad.
playing hercules and meg with him.
that mysterious house on the hill behind the fence. it was beautiful and glorious. I want it to be my home.
kissy boys. we'll eat you alive.

fake dying on the slide. 'i hate you bye.' 'noooooo!!!!'(down the slide...)




ee, that face I just made? thatwasa no bueno face.

the twins don't like it when I fart in their presence. I do.

twin stacks- the two big ass pipes coming outta the top of a truck

atonal music
new universes open themselves to me rarely, but in groups i realize

reaching away from your home tree
single root stretching furthest away
is it involuntary?

bra clip caught on a guitar string

the rear of a 1992 Cadillac Allante is an omen of death and misfortune. Hopefully someone possessing a pure heart and practicing the art of baddassary will change that.

remember to write about man on train, david, red rust and dirt (blood?) on cuffs of suit jacket under long perfect white trench coat, that metal dog tag bracelet with the red rod of asclepius symbol on it, perfect white toupee, black leather gloves, his not being a doctor but a cleaner of sorts, that radio personality that died earlier this year who was a customer of his for 50 years, how his customers were like family to him, book of psalms, the bag dance we did on a moving train to find it- i didn't even know what it was he was going to give me, i just assisted him like a daughter wife or assistant with physically finding the thing, a total stranger, complete trust- that look on his face, that confident voice,
who was this man and why did fate hand him to me in such a fashion that i knew it was intentional?
and why does that little damned blue book have to read like a scary as shit bible?

ganja, fruit of the gods

unrepentant pas de deux

i like the wet hair dripping down my back after a shower with numb feet in a warm room.

COMIC BOOK NARRATION TECHNIQUE BECOMES VERSATILE!

he once pulled the moon down to the earth into this house by the strings of his sister's hair and the web of a spider that they befriended
-their mother in their warm loving den, her hands being used to speak of the pulling.



like trading cards. A new way to create
A new way to organize
A new way to think

I collected from my ridiculously large photo archives (that I keep obsessively adding to) about a dozen images that felt relevant to me at that time, and then wrote down why they were. Most of them were tidbits like the one up there that partners with the image.
I wrote a quick narrative for a 6 page comic in 30 minutes. -and the most important part of it was that I respected it as a narrative, nothing seemed wrong with it to me. It just was what it was, I tested it on a few different people, they had only a few corrections to add. Most accomplishing thing I've done in a few days.

made my heartstrings go ding bing ing

Foolish children.

roscoe's chicken and waffles

I have three small respectable treasure boxes I've collected and assembled from my lifetime.
I love treasure boxes. I love nice boxes. I love sorting prized objects, into very nice boxes, and then forgetting about them for three years until I find them again and transport myself into the past with objects that remind me of times and events that made my heartstrings go ding bing ing

nonexistent spins was my kaptcha
croquet chairman was my kaptcha
is ornament was my kaptcha
of treats was my kaptcha

If I was a prostitute, I'd be called Zook. Zook Zookity Zook.

the people I want disappear like misties

we threw shoes at each other
I wish I could get into fights like that
No one is that invested in me



Twisted Truckers

Betty is maternal and her fancy of him is sappy and repulsive

I HATE my FUCKING dispatcher.