chocoleader

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because to be me is to be that bunny. The bunny is the deepness. The rabit is fruitfull.

Because to be dying is what we wake up every day to do. because the last stanza was not really meant to be there. There are no animals that know the right time to run, every time.

cigarette ashes upon my soul. My left lesticle throbs in anger. The french connect my ADSL to the tV pipeline. I forget about that. Forget to remind me. Because one day it will all be done for you. My lady is waiting. The lesser of two evils. Bull weavil kineeval the thurd. Thurdy two. Twanty one. Remember my birthday. Remember when I am alone. Remember my computer that you are always on... me.

I was forgetting the path to take. I was forgetting the place to live. I had the right telephone number but she made me forget it. She was so scared. Because I was probably going to hurt her, she thought. And I was right. I remembered.

The beans in the dish were starting to dry out. Forget that, we were never going to be over her. The spoon is dirty after coming out of the dishwasher. Please scrub. Can't find the sugercube that we once had. We belong that still to together.

Sarah please! fire me already. I forgot the keys to your bedstand. STOP. I need a new beat.
Can't find a spoon, that we once had. The sugercubes, will melt no more. Beleive me for I am seriously sitting here in the dark typing away and avoiding my life. Beer is good to releive it. It gives a good excuse to me. Not everybody. Maybe I will shave. Shaving is a resonable and responsible activity. I never get bored because the TV never turns off. I never get bored because I am always busy. I never get bored because my fingers are always moving.

I am trying to get away from these "I" statements. I am a married man now. I am trying to use a more varied tone of speech. I want to eat choco bars. Any kind. Japanese kitch. Keetch.

So we were once that type of person that lives together in the mountain timetable. I was not ever with her until then. I was leaving her body from under my toadstool because the last sentance was never finished and I though that perhaps a longer kind of phrasing was called for in this situation I could probably think of a way that would extend the situation a little bit longer and my death would fall a little less shorter and nearer to my life.

Ten surfing songs for the holocaust.

Because this was the album we were going to push. The solid hit of 1943. I was never going to forget that summer, we were so busy in the office. We were doing it, we were living the dream and building an empire. We built bridges and healed wounds and worked with all sides to move the product ahead...

You've all heard it before. you all know how easy it is to draw the = parallel with the stan nazi jesus empire and the world of commercial unquestioning lockstep. Busyness of not asking questions. I am a beach boy after all, I am not going to go crazy as I stagger across the hot sand. Don't fall down because you will never be able to get up. Never get up and then you will get a terrific kind of sunburn. Because I invented that for her. Jesus blessed me. I was endeavoured to sleep with a lazy dyke who had let down her standards and was now having her legs astride of me instead of the indigo burns of the motorbike.

One sweet day, you'll be good to yourself and you'll come and join us gurls. I wasn't one of them though. Even though I kind of wanted to have a vagina between my legs. So that I would be more open to the world. So I didn't feel guilty as I walked around every last corner of this earth. Do you actually see me?

I've never felt so alive. Except that I was lying. I never was going to admit where I really was. The cut of my jib frog sandwich calosel shipping lanes the boat cycleway wikipedia instigator identity check delimited access to the priority shipping channel. Forget. Animals are so soft. I was soft once too. My pink belly exposed to the undergarnmenttemperatures still.

I am not going to be here in the moring. Festival. Not for you or anybody. circus freak. Bleeding tumour. My left ear. Lesser men than I/ Having gone out only to forget the garbage can underneath my feet. Better that her nostirl. Freaking birds EVERYWHERE ALLWAYS CRYING OUT FOR LOVE AND HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CLIMB UP TO THAT TREE AND PET THEM OR FEED THEM LITTLE PELLETS OF BIRDSEED WHEN I AM HOLDING DOWN THE "SHIFT KEY" still...
...

...

Oh I wish there were more little dots like the PERIOD. on. this. here. sophistimicated. over. damn. rated. typing... maching.

o
0
O
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. dots!!!!

hooray for those things.

hooray for the british.

I really hope england loses the world cup of soccar. America already is out. And not the UK, please lose. I don't really care about football. I don't even know what the score is. I hated it when my mom made me play that game at douglas park when I was a little boy. She would pay me 25 cents just to touch the ball because I was such a reluctant player. I like pink floyd. And bowie, lots of british bands really. I admire red ken. I enjoyed meetinging some UK situationists. But I really want them to lose at football. I know they are pretty good at it. I know they have david beckham and he is famous and looks like me. According to europeans anyways. People use to say I looked like kurt cobain. blondy blondy. That fucking red cross of St. George on a white flag. Pure white. Flying on a plastic flag sticking out from the driver side window of a fucking SUV in kerrisdale. Fucking WASPS. Fucking whiteys. Is this self loathing? I just want them to lose to a brown nation. The beat trinidad and I was sad. I really almost like trinidad, for a certain obscure reason. What a bizarre fetish. Make them lose. Just a little chip. Just a little loss for the fucking queen and her goddamned empire.

My little green python. blimey.

heh.
het. quack.

forgetuhboutwieet.

Slowly, if you bother to read. That is the kenneth patchen. Even nonsense will contain ounces of gold hidden under there. Under the blanket. But me no, the words. The cushions? Me no, not on a blog, that is stupid. If you bound it up in a cloth book them people will bother to read it. Computers are too full of shit already for people to spend their words reading it wading through this kind of nonsense. Lies and truths. A kunning mix ffrom a ffucking ccunt hheaded ffool. Ffuckit. it! It! T.

Slowly, if you read to bother. This was Kenneth Partchurient. bEven nonsense won't conterm
gold hidden thereunder. Blanket under the. No buts here, me. Those werds. Cushions? no more, notablog. snotastupid. If we boned her up under the rape cloth them purple wuz brother read it. Kompewthur 222 full of shit ready 4 people 2 plend they're wurds rowdin tit.
wading through this mind of bonstrents. Lies or truths. A cunting kicks forr no fuckking kinn to
feetted fooll. Ffuckit.it! It? t.

Slow and, if I were to bother to want to re-read this for mistakes. I could write like some famous dead guy. But not very famous and only sort of dead. hidden blanket etc. cushions: why not? blog blog stupid blog. boner weiner erection rape cheese purple wazoo dirty words make you bother reading it. Catch 222 ASA without Codeine. ready 4 you 2 blend "there" rowdy tit wade through this. Truth or dare. cunting licks foor noo fuucking haarm tuu thee
blooody foull. Fffffff........T

Remember if you repeat yourself eventually somebody is bound to listen. Or your voice might just give out.