Or jig at the ball, if you must

fig.12)desk, oh pirate (and in vacant french)

They're not as black as hats. Do you know what a black hat is? They're intentionally chaotic, peoples going around upsetting the privacy of others. I like thinking about them in terms of the cold war.

Same here, always the same, "ok Momma."

Momma says, "privacy's the scale of our monetized comparisons. It's the folklore of our economics, if you take it a step closer."

"First to look and then it's gone," adding with a smile.

"Fashion forward," I always say.

Her coffee roils as she pulls back its lid. "I'd like to get a peek before adding the cream. Does this impress?

"I think, as a character, she's more than just Jane. Jane is really more than just a biological female with a liberal physique. You can see that right away. At least superficially, for a woman, Jane's a wonder, adorned or no. She's way more striking than her ersatz boasting hints at. She's dreamy perfect and her timing is spot on.

"She's as vocal as a storm, don't forget."

Marty walks over to the white board and begins another list.

"She's utterly incapable of being deterred. Did I say that right?"

"Or maybe it's like she say's, I loves me a man. I mean, it's so so serious. As serious can be."

A singular super science dome over the titular, parasitic habitat of the human soul isn't just white at all. Seeing, as the gaps in its measure are not pieced together with so much twine or the stiff bits of ribbon left behind from someone's birthday party. There are no rugs or worry here to adorn the skyless field of its filter. This vile emporium, its stately lies that will their words to work. Standing or falling over, like old gypsum and dirty piss, the walls form their corners and the corners describe this space. I remember cats and the time you've wasted mining for tape. Now we open this season for real, and it's as fat as a warm drum. - If by Mortise then by Tenon too.

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Totem

Tonight is old. It's wett but current and bored. I'm watching nothing but stars in the often sky that happen... do... tonight is lame like old, young like song, even as blue... Equal after the sun, noon or scripted yellow you are to me... A we (as sound)

Songlet is Best

fig.0231) FizzGraf MT. "Magical, like a chorus of like minded souls in a froth of cotton fumes." Over fake doors, under refurbished ladders, gypsum board and bent yellow pipes offering us an unmade bed and a stained window. Our one chance at tomorrow. Magnetic guts from at least a thousand cassettes are strewn across the room. Hee-Haw style, fancy dress shoes cling to the floor like it's '86 all over again. Hee-Haw, goes the sound. Hee-Haw, we're closer then we were. Hee-Haw, it's hilarious. Listening for trains, leaning out over the rails like two people with no time at all. Better maps, that's what we need. We could use a melody for singing with this chorus; in whose curious presence more patients wait to be found. With hands over our heads, someone passes by and asks, "gender?" There's stars in this sweet tooth of mine and some atoms left from the sky, Tonight the whole angle of heaven sleeps without light. Ordering its coffee darkest, t

Whiskers, chanting, "swap me, swap me!"

Fig.32) Aging poorly We're just together, taking ourselves for a tidy sum of walk and now our toes are wet and cool in the Lak, beside a cool stone that could drive a modernist to their flint. There's a listening experience that feels prepared, "our's for now, ours it says! Here's the hammer and it's wrapped in its own design already. A union in time-space, this card is our greetings, our massive, our very patience is reflected in this resolve." Suddenly, there's a cut away and she's wearing the pants that I've made for her, slow blue like painted smoke . I'm thinking about her hunched over the kitchen table, something that's stuck. There's a carving knife in her hand but from here, it's the same as an old spoon. From here my computer is sitting on my guilty seat, I'm thinking about champagne and comparing it to a thick wad bees and wondering whats in it for me? It's an anxious season, filled with not enough of anythin

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