(TUES)
Cleaning. Cleaning. I swear to God, I've become a house mouse. Louse. Grouse... let me out of this place now.
I went to my second open bar in my life last night. Jamie treated me to the Hot Corner shibang. I wonder if they'll let me into Harry Bissett's for theirs. Probably not. I wasn't part of the brotherhood there. Plus, even The Amigos in the dishpit thought I was insane. The hell?
I'm thinking a lot about lines lately (as poetry might suggest) and the continual divergance of memory from physical reality. I met people at the homeless shelter who went to court with me last year. Most of them were in handcuffs when they last saw me. I'd like to see how the rest of the normal world would react to imprisonment. I wonder if they'd still place so much value on permenant records in elementry school.
By the way, has anybody ever gotten a chance to actually see their old permenant records? They remind me of a theory on prisons. One French philosopher once theorized the perfect jail as one with only prisoners and no guards. Even though this was before the invention of cameras, it took on almost a "Cider House Rules" scenerio of rules with no enforcements, only fear. The same goes for religion, strangely enough. Lack of proof with plenty of rumor. Maybe if you volunteer for labor you get a pardon, Cole. Obey and be rewarded. Nowadays we fear the big eye in the sky peering down into our homes. Through television, through the internet, through the things we buy and the catologues of data we keep on ourselves. Our names are just cover for the bianary of our shopping habits. We build our own holding cells with consumer goods and GPAs...
Extraterrestrial. Outside of earth. Foreign. Centric. Absurd. Phenomenon. Otherly. Eastern. Misunderstood.
In the greater scheme of things: mother.
Crush crush crush. Sounds are good sounding good. Things are clean and orderly. Things are proactive and efficient. Christians used to believe that a clean house effectively meant a clean soul. But the lights shut off. The candle burns out. Dust gathers.
I have, in fact, confirmed my position at La Dolce Vita. Funny how I end up in a restaurant with a movie title for a nomer. I don't even like Felini. Need to see some Italian horror films circa 1970. Suggestions?
Might have a theme day for nobody to show up to again. Cheaper that way. Kung-fu movieathon. Cheesy horror rambunction. War, what is it good for? Good God ya'll! Regardless, all who shake and are not frozen should attend. Dress up. Anyone want to?
I am feeling good today. Someone say hello. The New Pornographers are exceptional. I am going to begin my Holocaust screenplay tonight. I have an interesting idea about sunsets that I stole from a line in Dead Man.
Am crazy am i crazy make me me make me crazy me go.
Cleaning. Cleaning. I swear to God, I've become a house mouse. Louse. Grouse... let me out of this place now.
I went to my second open bar in my life last night. Jamie treated me to the Hot Corner shibang. I wonder if they'll let me into Harry Bissett's for theirs. Probably not. I wasn't part of the brotherhood there. Plus, even The Amigos in the dishpit thought I was insane. The hell?
I'm thinking a lot about lines lately (as poetry might suggest) and the continual divergance of memory from physical reality. I met people at the homeless shelter who went to court with me last year. Most of them were in handcuffs when they last saw me. I'd like to see how the rest of the normal world would react to imprisonment. I wonder if they'd still place so much value on permenant records in elementry school.
By the way, has anybody ever gotten a chance to actually see their old permenant records? They remind me of a theory on prisons. One French philosopher once theorized the perfect jail as one with only prisoners and no guards. Even though this was before the invention of cameras, it took on almost a "Cider House Rules" scenerio of rules with no enforcements, only fear. The same goes for religion, strangely enough. Lack of proof with plenty of rumor. Maybe if you volunteer for labor you get a pardon, Cole. Obey and be rewarded. Nowadays we fear the big eye in the sky peering down into our homes. Through television, through the internet, through the things we buy and the catologues of data we keep on ourselves. Our names are just cover for the bianary of our shopping habits. We build our own holding cells with consumer goods and GPAs...
Extraterrestrial. Outside of earth. Foreign. Centric. Absurd. Phenomenon. Otherly. Eastern. Misunderstood.
In the greater scheme of things: mother.
Crush crush crush. Sounds are good sounding good. Things are clean and orderly. Things are proactive and efficient. Christians used to believe that a clean house effectively meant a clean soul. But the lights shut off. The candle burns out. Dust gathers.
I have, in fact, confirmed my position at La Dolce Vita. Funny how I end up in a restaurant with a movie title for a nomer. I don't even like Felini. Need to see some Italian horror films circa 1970. Suggestions?
Might have a theme day for nobody to show up to again. Cheaper that way. Kung-fu movieathon. Cheesy horror rambunction. War, what is it good for? Good God ya'll! Regardless, all who shake and are not frozen should attend. Dress up. Anyone want to?
I am feeling good today. Someone say hello. The New Pornographers are exceptional. I am going to begin my Holocaust screenplay tonight. I have an interesting idea about sunsets that I stole from a line in Dead Man.
Am crazy am i crazy make me me make me crazy me go.