why do all girls drag their feet?

they weigh less than most men, so burden is no physical issue.

they wear sneakers like men. So footwear isnt a valid arguement

is it a way to get into our heads?

I know it distracts me. Why cant the soles be picked up?

Is it really that hard to separate foot from floor?

tell me why, as I ask in every entry.

please, for the love of everything,

stop ruining shoes and defiling floor tiles.

pick up your feet and move

sunspots and candy dots

one last stand and Im no tlaone any more. Theese peeps wont stand idly by to watch the consumption of such an important ally. no more will the prosspcful doctors and lawyers watch the sick die young and unjust. My kids will live, and if not, I wont blame the doctors and lawers, I wont scream a lords name in vain. I wont seek revenge unless I need to.

happy go lucky and I, all a flutter. leaving it all to chance, and I cant really say what will return of it.

nothing here is in my control, Im succumbing to it all. let if flow, and if it flows angry and uphill, so. be. it.

dear red

cup me up in your palm tips in your cathedral ribcage behind your oak doors behind your weigh lines behind your latitudinous planes all croos roads and vigor.

the simple spit of salt and peper.

the thin thin thin. the tintinnabulation of baldness.

stop thinking, start working

so what today?

more happy go lucky sundance tales of yore?

or more recent complaints over internal systems?

or maybe a startling new revelation which I will now share with every audience?

na

ya

maybe

not until this jargon sparks a conversation with a reader will any of this have any point, so until its all been seen, whats the purpose?

jargon is a word I enjoy tossing simply because it means to me the junk, the waste, the flotsam and jetsam of whatever Im referring to. thats what this is. my Flotsam and Jetsam. Ariel's eels, taunting her with failure and obliteration. Tide pool trash. washing along unnoticed until some sob walking their dog discovers it under their sandal. The smell of low tide, actually a smell I enjoy. It reminds me after all that Im at a beach, and no fowl smell will change that. I guess its one of the few things to be thankful for, and not whiney about. Where else can on get premium salt water taffy at a steal? where else can lobster be as guiness in ireland? where else is it not only customary to feed the guls, but to revere them as its their domain? Its no wonder homes are so expensive there, and still its wondrous how the home owners could complain about a little natural thing like the smell every 9 hours when I would happily trade places.

we dont all know what to be thankful for. Maybe thats why thanksgiving has never really been that epic to me.

3 more

George Castanza needed to go up 5 flights because he forgot something important in his apartment. He starts for the elevator and I start berating him for being lazy. So I jump in the elevator with him to point him of his wrongdoings. We start up, its only 5 flights, but its 5 flights like willy wonka would have it. We're plastered to the walls, the ceiling, the floor, tripping out as we soared through space, through the clouds into the ground. We finally got to the 5th floor, and I know understood why George took the elevator.

A group of us were working construction or something by a river, and it was in the middle of night and time for me to quit. I make for my car, but I cant remember off hand where my keys or my car are. Thats when I get the sense that Im not alone, the pack has realized that Im alone and helpless. I hear one of them behind me, then 2 beside me, and I hear the scream of the hunter as its pouncing for me. I scramble for my keys, find them, press the unlock button and dive into my car. I peel out of the lot with a hunter at my passenger window, and I drive for miles in the south before I turn back. Its midafternoon by the time I return, and everyone is surprised Im still alive.

Two tanks were battling, and I thought, Great! they can kill eachother, and we dont have to worry. They heard me say that, and decided to join forces. Each of them turned to uber scary deceptacons, and were pursuing me. I think the trippy elevator will be safe. I jump in and pull my own personal autobot from my back pocket. By the time I reach the 5th floor I have a metalic heroic transformed cat at my side, ready to take on the double threat.

I wake up yet again.

in advance of a mental breakdown

I had a dream where we became friends again, and you told me I was missed. things became easier afterwards, then I woke up and realized again that it will probably never happen.

I had another dream where I knew it was a dream, but I couldnt control it like people say we should be able to. It was sorta Lucid I guess, but I couldnt fly, couldnt even jump more than 6 feet in the air.

I had a dream that was like everyday. It was a text asking for lunch, only to be awoken by a text asking me for lunch.

Everyday I wake to dreams becoming dreams becoming dreams. I catch myself in shock and awe in the fact that some of it ISNT a dream while others unfortunately are. And I reprimand myself for ever doubting the realities I've so easily dismissed as dreamt, and grow fierce when I feel tricked into a world I cant have.

7 behind

shouldne even be etaking the time to rambel there. no time but the little I have tp workd. why then do i insist on doing this to myself? I never ussed to be a student like this, Ivee always beena procrastinator but I;ve never slacked this bad. typing too fast to spell correctly, not even looking tathe screen, barely hitting backspace. watnt to just rest atop my parking garage back home. 5 stories a bove all other problems, alone with the birds, and church steeples. no one disturbs me, and I have a large desert of concrete to befreind. I can read, I can walk, I can breath slow, can smile. why cant i find any other place like that? That seems to be THE place. the place was searching for all summer long. I had thought I couldve found a lake or a place by the river to set up a hammock and bring a lunch with a book, but I never got around to finding JUST THE RIGHT PLACE. It was in concord the entire time, I have the parking garage now, just in time for winter to settle in and take it away from me, then spring to rain on, then summer when the tourists will fill up that desert and take all the privacy away from me. DAmn. but where then else? I cant take any of the woods, the mosquitos will make sure of that. no river or lake. casue all the places I find are places Id have to share. I cant find any clearings, they all lead to someone's backyard. I cant choose a building, cause that would destrpy the point. I need the seclusion, I need the privacy., I want to be sorta like Alexander Supertramp. He found a perfect spot (or so he thought) and he was happy for a time., thats all I want, only without the whole dead thing...

so anyway, these chapter summeries wont write themselves, I guess io can look away from the computer now.,,

circular desires

she thinks it's funny when he extends his arms and spins around in a circle. she laughs and even sometimes curls up on the floor inside her laughter, comfortable and confined. he doesn't do it to entertain her, he does it 'cause he thinks he'll turn into a tornado someday. he knows that by any conventional rules of science or reality it won't ever happen, but he doesn't care. he's like that cartoon with the penguin that tries to fly. so he don't got the wings. small detail.

he gets so dizzy he throws up sometimes, but she keeps laughing in her little space on the floor. it's all funny to her, his illusions and his dreams and his vomit down his shirt. when he sees her laughing he wants to laugh, too, but he'll rinse out his mouth with scope first. he'll kneel down and wrap his arms around that little ball she makes on the floor. they'll stay there for a long time, small on the floor where no one can see them.

feverpitch

feever fed this arctic snarrl on her lips, how she draws those canines
bearing fetid fresh-this is how it feels as the sweats descend and im doing
my best to trnslaet this to you in letters but i hope you don't understnad.

fearless and fearful the tribultaions how many ways they crossed the desert
and you she plotted the depths of the stars reflected in pebbles and particles
of the sandy spanse aliteration plot invaulable fagaries and vasilot tweeds.

exactly what you think it is. exactly what the person says through teeth and
tongue. how the patches. how the kneecaps. how the zany collapse like thin
creed. is this writing. is this roticulation. is this rotor mount. is this the way

we understand the constructions. the ship sails out of port at mornign and
i'll eb on it, waving. the shore sinks. the buildings steam and the boilers burts
and we know it'll all come down to pieces in the end, just like a juggle of dice.