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tangledupinblue

Big Shea -- well, not anymore. Citifield. That's weird to write

Member Since 2004

Followers 31 Following 48

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Saturday Nov 20, 2004

Nov 20, 2004
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I am sad about car horns. They had a deeper sound in 1974. Now they are shrill.

Western exhaustion of wet cold fall is beyond difficult and typing makes me tired.

I need to surprise myself right now or else December will hurt.

2005 will be warmer and that is swell. But caverneous times are swallowing every bit of heat right now.

Light blues greens reds and soft colors are all fleeing.

Like the broken herd chased by gunshots.

Deadly camoflagued drunkards, all carelessly pursue a momentary thrill.

Expense is no object.

They aren't paying.

I hate the time of hard browns and slate greys.

Here eyes were warm and blue and I liked that a lot.

It all ends up in loss until someone loses you.

My howls they squeak in the fever.


Personal cholera brings angry July and the wooden shutters of a port town replace a 3rd floor studio.

Someone wrote the lament for me.

The world takes my words.

I'm thirty times distilled and never authentic.

Streams of Cartoogichaye and Wayah meet hot and cold.

Temperature 101 and rising again.

My mind before the night falls on Saturday.
VIEW 13 of 13 COMMENTS
pip:
Warner looked great yesterday, on the bench holding a clipboard. wink

Sorry I could not resist. This week has been redemtion week for me. A fantasy football trade that an oppent thought he was too good for, turned out that he needed desperately. I beat my gf in fantasy football (for the first time in 3 match-ups!) And then Warner sits on the bench. Forgive me for gloating I do not do it often.

Your journal by the way was very well written.
Nov 22, 2004
cybele:
Your mind is amazing. At nightfall or otherwise. smile
Nov 22, 2004

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