The Hanging Garden

                                                                                                          
                                                

Seen another future passed onto one more dead end town, everything here feelin a touch more sickly sacred than i can ever remember it to have been. Us kids own every bit of these shadowy tangled up streets, along with all the absurdities that come with them. All one can do here is wander and wonder through, exploring all the cracks and crevices that no one else has per-chanced to notice. This place is perpetually stuck into some sorta nowhere hour, somewhere betwixt a dusk and dawn. Things around here breath like a even more twisted take on warriors or escape from new york. All tucked inside of those same dark and deadly dimensions. The streets are possessed by a steady amber glow, flooded out with stray street fires, used-up autos, a billion varietys of busted glass, and every other sort of debris one would hope to find lying behind the apocalypse. The town is being run by various networks of street urchins, all distinct gangs, whom have drawn sides and seem to be in a constant hunt of one another, never to arrive at any sorts of execution. All the light within is steadily muted, save for the sparse fluorescent pulsating shocks of randomly placed abandoned laundromats that are now overrun by a new breed of futuristic super tweakers, the fluorescent dim-bulb vampire burnout's to gave em a tag line. They all meet up in these eerie sterile yellow laundromats to snort up their rations of static into their battery operated brains before returning into the dark n filthy streets to join back up with the purgatorial hunt. Initially, I am ghost here. Just wandering through as a witness, just letting my being wade into the realm until the time is nigh for my integration. I keep finding myself watchin the cities ceiling through shiny puddles in the backs of alleys and just creepin by all sorts of chaotic scenes. Every sound around here is drenched in a strange sorta silence, laced with reverberated echos of spookily isolated noises driftin in from throughout the city. One can only imagine what kinds of happenings are at the other end of such sounds.

                                                                                                      

I first notice my ghostly appearance has materialized, when a towering black truck slams on its brakes and some freakily elongated black metal kids spill out, all lookin like gene simmons, face-painted, and drooling up blood. They chase me back into another alley. I find cover as they disperse back into their vehicles and keep watch from behind trash can fires as the rest of there caravan of roving metal heads rip and thunder through the streets doing wheelies in their giant monster trucks screamin like spastic inbred demons. You can hear em comin and goin miles away from the resonating bass of the most evile death metal soundscapes one has ever heard. After there scene trails off, I walk back out into the proper city streets hearin them echo away. The cracked up asphalt looks kinda magical littered with glass underneath all those flashin amber street lights. Strangely clad and diabolically beautiful pirate women stand out on the corners lookin like some futuristic, yet not so safe, suicide girls, all dressed up for the day of the dead. I peer into yet another tweaker mat and witness this acute, yet, cloudy madness sorta feel, that hints of any old zombie movie where one walks into the room and, initially, cannot make out what exactly it is they are gazing upon, until the focus comes in and you realizes its a pack of zombies feasting on some second-rate corpse.  I start to come to the realization that i am exposed and alone and must find some proper allies and a possible hideout. I hitch a ride on the back of some, burning man lookin, garbage truck all done up with glow in the dark stars and fluorescent paints, there's a bunch of weirdo day glo crusty death hippies hangin all over the thing like a band of third world indian kids up on a train, they look sorta frightening, all shiny black-lit eyeballs and teeth, but somethin about it makes me feel safe, maybe the stars.

                                                                                                          

But i hang on the back watchin the place scream on by. The city seem to talk to me, i feel like its uploading information into my brain, adapting me. It seems that all of these elevated buildings around here are in a state of constant change, morphing or maybe even breathing. All rising up to reveal pictures of their own futures which have been derived from an exactitude of the point in passing and at once reinvent themselves into various shapes and sizes just to ditch out any of their past formations. I feel familiarized and completely comfortable with the most of the city-scape, everything seems good as long as i am fixated on this truck and moving throughout, we seem to all be a part of the same monstrous organism here. A city as a somewhat foul and unnatural coral reef or aspen groove dancing and constantly expanding all at once, all together. I understand now that all the towers are specific to the gangs beings that have overtaken them. The tweakers damned up in their dirty yellow buzzing laundromats, the pirate hookers on there urban land ships, the metal head kids have taken up in a creepy gray old gothic sort of church, all their monster trucks parked sporadically on the steps and sidewalk. All made entirely their own to build up and shape as their minds flash themselves upon it.  Another thing about this realm is that it consists only of the most completely sturdy souls, call em characters of good or evil if ya have to draw lines, but tried and true characters nonetheless. The weak and squeamish ones cannot continue here. There are no muddling middle ground sorta folk left, no room for the useless critics and evaluators. This city tells me they have all been drowned out long ago, faded out with the self pro claimed lords of the land and all those waiting room clerks, and every other variety of ineffectual official whose minds could not survive the shift. All swallowed by the seas or maybe burnt out with the long dead sun. But as dark and deadly as this place seems to be, as many dregg-ish fiends as one comes across here, i somehow know that there are some holy hearts holding onto a certain force of illumination. I know now that i have arrived here to find my own clan.

                                                                                                             

I ditch off the truck and walk most directly into a small group of kids all dressed in the most curious sorta garb. They all have a feel of somewhere between back then and up ahead. Spellbinding victorian caveman futurists perhaps. There all

standing symmetrically silent, hangin out under a substantial set of heavy handed steel cemetery gates that remind me of these weirdo art deco lamp posts by the subway entrances in paris. There all illuminated by a lovely eerie green light flooding all around them from a lamp post of the same design as the gates. This image is most grand, i can see the cemetery in all of its splendor rising up in the backdrop, giant mossy vine-covered tombs, like some old french burial ground, bubbling up over the gates, strung up on a perfectly, again, symmetrical hill that draws to a peek with a monstrously monumentous mausoleum thrown up right in the dead center. The mausoleum seems to be charged with a glow of ultra white, as if under a full moon. I don't recollect saying a damn word to these kids and instantly know them as familiarly ancient friends from one of the old worlds all gathered up to wait for my arrival. We walk away from here so slowly and fitting as in some beautifully formed funeral procession. It all seems so sad and gloomy but i cant stop smiling. Next picture cuts home to the front entrance of a large old red brick building our clan shall inhabit. It sort of reminds me of the rookery building in chicago from the front. A large archway leading in with a sign over top that reads, in giant steel old english letters, The Hanging Garden.

                                                                                                  
We walk into an enormous foyer decorated by the most intricate steel fixtures, hundreds of old tarnished chandeliers, the floor is all black and white checkered tile, tons of extraordinary antiques and odd furniture pieces, and the light is almost swirling with an ever changing array of harlequin shades. The lobby opens into something like the bradbury building (see below) from blade runner with about 20 stories of open lobby squared off by the hallways and railings. There's two reasons why this place is called the hanging garden, although these kids do seem to be the sort that would be into the cure, and possibly that may have just been a convenient title, but not the only reason for the name. First and most immediately evident is because of the fact that an amazing "hanging garden" has been somehow planted off of the railings and ceiling to hang down over and into the lobby of the place. This is one of the most remarkably awe-inspiring images i have ever seen. All the plants are of the queerest shape, size, texture and colors i can imagine. A lot of weird suessian, (dr. seuss), sorta flavors here, almost like a coral reef in the color and textures. Lots of florescence and an almost dayglo sorta shine. the place looks as if charged by black-light. So that being the first reason why this its called the hanging garden. The second being, just about the yin for the yang of it, because of, yes, all the suicides that took place here in what is referred to as the transition times. Why exactly it is that we are all in this situation is because the bottom fell out. There was a sort of culmination to a certain way of life that many had grown comfortable within and many of those that were not able to comprehend, or say, adapt to the activation of new brain processes, or new ways of life in general, well, many of those folks exploded right off the bat, not to even see anything of the transitional times. Some of these folks did hold out for a decent while, but ultimately grew depressed and inconsolable by these new living conditions, and in turn, chose to do away with themselves. And for some reason, possibly because of the abundance of high railings, came to this building to hang themselves. And this place became, like japans suicide forest, or the golden gate, a known place to come and move on to another plane of existence, or nonexistence, dependent upon ones take. But the inexplicable thing about this place is the lore of the link between the gardens and the suicides, the myth especially potent among the inhabitants of this building. It is assumed that all of these suicides left hanging are where the beautiful foliage comes from. No one knows for sure because the building was not occupied at the time of all the hangings, but one can assume such a metamorphism because of the magical fact that these plants seem to grow out of nothing, theres no soil or anything from which one would figure them to come about from.

                                                                                                      

  So those being the two reasons for the name. And now this place is a sort of communal living castle inhabited by all the illuminated and creatively driven children that dwell in this bizzaro dark and deadly city. All throughout these inner halls, walls and twisting stairways the same sort of vibrational, almost electric, creative charge continues. Up into the cradle of the place it looks like that mc escher scene at the end of the labyrinth, all sorts of weird angles and various levels cutting into hallways leading into staircases that dead end to nothing. But in accordance with the philosophy of the tenants here, nothing is superfluous, everything seems to hold a purpose. All of these spaces receive proper attention, even the apparent dead ends hold more odd gardens or wondrous little alters and shrines. I recollect this one long shadowy hallway in which the floor was lined with old thin, almost breathing, red carpeting. Time freezes out strange and perspective shifts, kinda of like Alice's doorways, I keep walking toward a shining arrangement of flickering light and being unable to make out what it was until nearly upon it.  And at the end found a twisted old meticulously ornate wooden table that was hand-carved with vines and flowers and little gnome looking faces. It was all draped with a variety of tattered, multi-colored cloths and covered in burning candles that surmounted to a mountain of rainbow colored wax. In the center, a statue of some lady of Guadeloupe lookin dame that was encircled by a magnificent collection of trinkets, bones, rocks, jewelry and oddly minded plant-life.
                              

                                                                                              

Take this as the theme of the entire building, every inch of everything over-laid in complex designs, all the hallways covered with magnificent collages, cryptic drawings and murals, all adorned with hanging trinkets of mixed sorts of everything. Just imagine taking an elaborate old art deco sort of building and placing it in the hands of the most creative weirdos this world has to offer up with no day jobs and nothing but time of their own to keep the place breathable and steadily growing. And aside from the visual charm, everywhere you walk around here, one is haunted by the loveliest smells and noises you ever could envision. Every turn creates a continued symphonic collage constructed by most anything imaginable, from creepy old phonographs to some ghostly grandfather clock chiming through a non existent time piece. Conversation ghosts of a combined past, present, and future resonate throughout, interweaved betwixt the sounds of harmonica playing teapots boiling off inside retarded cuckoo clocks inside dollhouse homes of the dolls of dolls. I keep walkin about these hallways for an uncharted turn er two, eventually belonging inside one of the apartment chambers. All the doorways have been removed, some like the one i enter are draped with tapestries or frayed cloths, or those fancy beaded doorway things, but i figure that everyone residing here wants to keep open doors as to promote a free flavored movement to all the other kids. It doesn't seem like anyone here keeps regular beds or possessions at that, keeping with the tune of constant revision and everything for anyone whom is making use of it as they see fit. Inside the smaller chambers, no different from the wondrous arrangements of the halls, just a bit more cozy and warming. Everything in here is precisely how i would envision my perfect living quarters, book and record shelves that remind me of dreams library in sandman, all the most enchantingly fascinating books and songs ever written that were never written to hold. Collections from an infinity of perfect dreams disremembered. A warm cubby hole of a kitchen that reminds me of how i saw Mr. badgers house in the wind of the willows. All rounded-out, no corners, all rich dark wood, lovely shelves hugging containers of lovely smells, lined up with a variance of potion like glass jars holding unbeknownst teas and spices that one could get stuck just smelling on for days.  The ceilings and walls all flowing and breathin, it looks like a carnival tent everything lined with multi-colored fabrics, strange mobiles made of feather adorned sticks laced with mirrors, jewels and every other sort of ornamented bauble-filled what nots.  The floors and doorways all dark and olden sorts of wood. End-tables all filled up with living figurines and a million pieces of someone's lost last lifetimes. Eventually im led out to a balcony where everyone is gathered around a oddly green glowing fire, these kids all seem to be drawn to or maybe even emit this same shade of emerald i initially saw them standing under. This must be the color of my old world clans aura or some shit, because i seem to have amany night visions resonating with this same color. I actually used to have this reoccurring dream around my birthday for a few years pertaining to a sort of emerald palace i would see from afar and almost be magnetized toward.

But anyways, so i stand out on this old cobblestone porch with all these magical creatures for a turn and notice that looking off into the view that the sea seems to surround, at least partially surround, the building.  We're about 20 floors up here and down below the waves are breaking on giant rocks at the foot of the building. From up here i begin to get the impression that were on an enormous ship, just as the thought turns into something else, we move and i look out to see black mountains in the distance growing larger and lighter. I just stare off into the sea for a timepiece er two until i turn back around and see only the face, of one of the more comradely, no offense meant, pirate hookers from earlier. Her face is painted to look as a skull, shes in her dia de los muertos vestments, and wearing a big red sombrero with the little yellow balls hanging off. She reminds me of a women i had talked to earlier that week about her son recently dying of cancer. I look deep into her eyes as they enlarge and reflect back the glow of the green fire, she smiles real wide-like at me and the scene goes for gone. I get a feelin ill be comin back here.
        

                                                                                                          
                                                                                                    

                                                                                                       

Apocalyptic Exodus Scenario 27 C-496

the thing of the matter is that i ran into this reality portal the other day in which was screaming from a voice that the world as you nice people have been patiently perceiving it will be ended in a soonish manner. I and all of the transports of my imaginarely enacted civilization kit make it known to them voice overs that we must be seen to pictures for sentimentalities sake. While I have heard of such rumors, it seems unlikely from the amount of talk that has not amounted to such developments within our recent past, said the girl with the fat gay spanish eyebrow. But sirs, the thing of the matter, as is before us, is serious. These wise and unshapely beings , which possess an ultimately queer and un-timely absorption rate, have prepared telepathic picture shows to convince us kids of their wild wild notions of omegacized saturations. They go and draw out a better understanding of what is already mostly understood by pointing onto the stigmatized strife humping mute-ants that did and have created a skeptical world of constant scorn and constant-er disbelief. How we could bare so long without our original magical prowess'iss'siz is beyond them and their immaculate rejections. Then, say they,  when we were finally able to catch sight of that lovely necromancy of antiquity once a gain, it was brought forth to us in the form of senseless apprentice-ness, being enacted to expedite some bullshit visions of a few regionally minded collectors and turd-chuckers.

to contrast such wasted harvests, they showed us some of the glories brought forth by the old tumeronistipapint magicians of sangreal, whom would bend seas into breathable skies for the sheer hu-rumpf of altered flights. We watched in awe as they created sweeping shades of ultra-sonicly orgasmic symphonic maneuverings as the people of the land squealed with glee and finagled through their newly formed air rivers. Each movement bled into the next and images were seen as they were from the minds of these people of other. they saw each other as whatever one would think them self to be, most of the images nothing -like anything we have yet to recognize from our approaching former existence. communiques through unbeknownst notions of madness, streams of screamingly strange pulsating colors and emanating visualization's of undetermined frequencies there were. Magical creatures merging each others beings in and out of size, creating and destroying each cycle simultaneously.    Ohh the festive doings such as thus. Now to set on the porous pout of imagery as it can go in a factual fixation of those still quite refusing to unhinge their god given light rights sent forth from a distant past that is all to similar to these futuristic visions. Those of whom refuse will see nothing of these fantastic realms, for we cannot contact you if you do not look out for these various variety's of possible probabilities.  through there waveature we can now see the displaying's of the seas boilin up and the skys turning deep deep red upon the effervescence vampires whom squall in horror inside of our once known to be mirror realm. if you just remain conscious throughout the tunnel, you can glimpse any world that they have possessed throughout there ancestors aeons of flight. they wish us not to become despondent by these images of our relation, concept dependency fading out , they say it does not help the course to become so attached to the course of course. the advice of the pictures translates to anal redemption and makes loose to shit whatever has the potential to be shat out, leave it all, there is nothing new to breach upon inside the real real realism of old standardized thought cloakings, the time is nigh, we must magnify those thoughts, they say, then pull out their foundations and create entirely new realms from the expansions and continue on in that fashion til these things become unsung into the most magnificent and all encompasing hymn. New and lovely brain processes have been in purgatory deep inside and have remained always with you despite the fact that you are just no fun anymore, they told you of their powers but did you ever formally acknowledge the invitation. Many are very aware of these capacities, they have been moderately enacted, spoken of much, and written a million different ways since the drop. They have a tendency to come around fer a turn every turn or two, but usually they eventually end up gettin lost inside the current or regional taskmasters administrational disciplinarian reality systems, or closed out by the specialists. despite this, there shall always be of some whom can vaguely and consciously remember, although the many recollect unconsciously.  

As of lately,  It really hasn't been so much of an existence anyway, more of an utterance, yes, the market has run quite out of options, it was innovational for a while, just for the sheer sake of the creative evolution it took to get it rolling along. But the fun has all been drained away, it's really just the point of the point-less-ness of making a living making a living, these concepts need have nothing to do with currency and burden. So back now to the original intention of rapid growth, activation of the sleeping brains powers, its all right here, the blueprint is contained inside each and every one of us, if this is startling, possibly you should have spent more time studying the nature of your beastisis.  We have mostly forgotten that this here land is all just a farm, the earth, yes, the earth is a farm, of course were not all native to this place, although many of the creatures here are, and have evolved from the naturaly occuring matter upon these fields and oceans. See, many of the creatures that are natural to this enviroment if anything even have helped its function, or at least have created a moderate symbiosis. but some of these initially transient creations we speak of have turned out to be sheer parasites whom have been idiling far too long, ignoring the supposed built in drive that had once made all of our species existence dependent upon flight of the interior fire. some have spent too many time pieces stagnating and wallowing about with no desire to cry out, nothing to offer but their filth and lack of cooperation. You see this was just an expierement, there have already been many quit like it, but dont let the semantics minamilaze your take on any personal journey you may have had, its not necessarily so trite, especially for those conscious of the possiblities, nothing was wasted, something will always be learned. take one for the team, they say, its all going back into the group fund, But still you know you have always been free to paint it how you wish, just be weary of the risk involved with linear comprehension. Because as personal as you think it, it will always involve some of the others. Remember we are trans-mutating anyone whom we have established wavelengths with and they of us. 

Now, the original farmers planted some of the more disastrous seeds around 250,000 years ago. while many of them have expanded their need to wail by mastery of adaptation and exploration of option,  many have continually remained stagnate, remaining sleepend by thought cloggers and death drivers,  self inflicted thrall mongers.  Experiencing periods of vast evolution only to balance it with periods of vast de-evolution, stuffed deep inside of frames of reference. Some of these spawned creatures, more so, the wailing ones, the eaters of the light, those of an ultra conscious nature, whom have adapted accordingly by way of those naturally occuring sentient beings around them,  they have been designated for non-continous continuation upon an independent bardo, and have been instructed by the galactic farmers to tie up a few loose ends and tickle a few springs for them as they cannot set foot back on the planet because it would begin a, for the time being, unwanted re-growth process. the last time they had touched down some 5000 years ago, they had spawned a revolution of the soul for our people of the flesh and sent our brains into overdrive. this will not happen again until the surface is cleared of the last of the sallowly mutated ones and all their vibe harshing principles of defeatism. the course has been cleared several times before. the clan mother and her 27 alchemists  of 17,000 some odd  years ago had explored similar grounds of an experimental sort, even conjuring many devices that the majority of current civilizations perspectives thought to be relatively new. They once or twice even perchanced upon the forbidden fruit of fission. and much like our current lapse, the moment that they realized what they were in the process of doing they tried to hide it away. but it was too late. their reptilian nemesis had discovered there magic by means of thier brain scanning devices, another immplement that many present day breeders of the reptillian sect have thought cuttting edge. So in preperation for the coming winter, those who control the sun, the bringer of the whale song, the farmers of the galaxy, have sent the eaters of light these agendas. First off, we have been instructed to take up a hearty collection of sea mammals, some of these specific species have grown here so long that they contain within some of the most amazing visions in this galaxy, billions of years worth of information encoded into thier being. I awake to find myself a part of this enactment.

I sit on the edge of their containment units, the necessary number needed for information transfer have been rounded about in a artifical waiting port habitat that, upon waking terms, appears as some distorted hippie commune sea world without all the lug nuts and their freakish showholes. there have been arrangments made with some of the larger galactic ships to stop by and make the transfer before the place goes fer gone. and me well i have recieved instructions to make sure and turn off my body before the world drops, i have received instructions and a power-down kit containing a needle. im supposed to shot myself full of this sleep they have prescribed me and multiple others because of the fact were just so fkn heavy. i see it like im putttin myself down like a dog, im not sure precicley how this process is to work. Will they pick me up? Can i bring along my killer body and my killer hair? Will there be chille rellenos and wickedly bodacious melting visions. Possibly I must just stop my heart and physical function to be able to survive the transformation. er maybe my body aint comin with me at all, maybe i gotta end my repertoire here and leave the mort to set before the explosion so my conscientious-ness-less doesn't get tainted by the destructoid perversions, man. i think i may have been instructed to perform magical rites and bury myself upon my parents lawn now that i recollect. Im wonderin here if get a new suite, er maybe there aint no more suits, maybe there aint no more nuthin at all. maybe its time to stop the squirmin', maybe the transfer kills human tensions and anxieties. maybe it dont hurt when it dont breath, right. this is all normalacy here, these concepts are clear when the demon box aint kickin in yer ear. somethin much stranger for now,  all changed, tiny aeroplanes have dropped down next to this realm and i am instructed to board, inside now, this is a convenient store set in 1986 sacramento california, but look out of the window this is still an aeroplanes carcass. Now to sit down on this plain next to a discerning and asexual creature whom I have been designated to feel love towards. initially we meet and lock legs together, this is how we meet or mate, we are together now for an entire eternity with in the span of each of us spacing on the moment for no more than that spacious moment. Now it takes on female electrics, she has come to me to stop her leaky hick from leaking. he has followed her around for 2736 years and it must be stopped. initially i am only an excuse, enough of a space to make them stop their muddling. no matter now, this man has found his own distraction, his eyeballs follow the stewards ass as she mesmerizes him with a carton of marlboros. were going up now. my family is all own board as well. my father and his jim morrison throw rug, my brother is in possession of a multitude of miniature refrigeration units. everything is becoming clear as to the point of all this madness. Its only an optional variety on realities claim.  this is an ad-vert-is-ment. a commercial for the end of the world being broadcast live to anyone willing to open their brains wide enough to look into this non-specific specified realm. those whom are curious enough find their selfish in a behind the scenes diarama. our superhero may die now, bring out yar needles and stick yourselves back to sleep. the baby they were all trying to save by breaking its fall was already dead when they pulled it out of the sky, but those moments in between as they saw it spiraling downward were enough to create the realm where the child was saved and there was no need to end this all. our brains are living a multitude of existances within the same breath. Have we departed? Did they save the whale god creatures? Are they on bored heading towards our new hope-filled stomping grounds. As long as we keep a furrowed brow then the future explosions of weirdness shall be brought forth. Hu-rah.

WHATCHU MAKIN, MAN?

admiring admirable shit bags as the brain turns inward and wanders on toward the holy hollow of the damaged dawn, well.......still an awful lot of devotion here, beaming with that mothrfkn radiating gleam, lot of confusedly frustratable frustrations as well, so i see, breakin me up right in the midst of a daily basis when all im tryin to do is keep on gettin gone, discard them realities which never sat well with my function, whatever that may be. gettin drunk and high sure is fun with all these splices of unconsciousness, moderately fresh brains to devastate once a gain,  its a wonder it keeps on workin, still it seems so still, an entire flock of us kids burnt up on amnesia, makin plans to disconnect from the procedurally correct and tossin them away to the restoration of anew day, still cuttin in prematurely,  stiffilin all this everry nightly growth. stand up, real far up and look at it anywhere far enuf aways, try it 372,309 million odd some miles to the west of the left, examine them motions of the matter til it don't not matter, try it anyway, see what it looks like from so far astray, the generality of this fkerd up polite society, see them crazy creatures from containerless spaceshipments, watch em flingin themselves back and forth in their streaks of misplaced complacent energy bursts fer lifetimes on end. 

MMMMMMMotherfkrs we cant wait but all we do is wait. fyp, built then burnt, dug then filled, phil knows, bob too. but i see too much waitin fer the most, save it fer later, wrap it on a plate and stick it deep inside refrigerator heaven is such an awful place to die. Dont even know what it looks like on the other side of this day, at least thats the plan, stick to the plan, fk the plan, we got a new plan captain and there aintint no such plan about it, keep it changin particles a' rearrangin. shift them shifts cause once ya get a fix on it it seems as though its overdone. begs to stagnate shred up all the fun. death by association is the thing, one outta run from there, keep these walls transparent let the light mix up the taint. i got to buyin on these pictures ya see, the thing about em is that they dont hold no nothin, all they do is morph every morning to keep me from mourning over the god damned wall decorations. one likes decor and all, but jesus christ, never like that. im tryin fer awhile to see how it goes, killin off them intangible tangibilities that one can base any sort of loose association on. i mean as often as these memories can put me upright at times, they may be goin outta style, may be a thing of the past. cause once it gets a cookin to that part of the brain, it tends to stick there, starts with the fussing and the fusing, and it all gets down to remain. accursed associations, they get that tendency to stick it out on the putrid side. SO, whats the problem, is it a problem, ya, call it a problem, so then whats the question?, skin er the fur, skin er the fur, lord only knows, crazy bastard didnt know just how mutated them apes were gonna get,  old man had no idea all the frustration he would cause when he bought that boy that fkn fischer price "my first science lab". now they just wander round feelin too much feeling and thinkin too much stinkin thinkin, damn do they feel, whats even worse is when they don't, when they let the nature of it sink in on itslef.  want to observe how it goes wrong, didnt think it could be wrong if its going down in the first place eh, well let's not say, wrong, hows about we call it ill-considered, or ill-advised, or ill-judged, or just ILL.  just look at one of them fkn house cats, they sure get morbidly perverse, they do, they do, its real, i seen it? seen the whole thing flashin for a fluid slice of reality. no butseriously, i say,  im gettin most merry to let the fixed objects space out on me, when this here realm starts a spinnin so fast the constructs just let loose and disappear, its a lot to hold onto, in these shitty little containment units and all, gets a turn oversensitized with the disapearnce of all them damnded walls, rooms, housing complex's, city gates and cosmic grates, when they all start to disappear and the nerves reappear tenfold. hearin and seein this, fer a feelin all us miserable wrecks, spread out across the dwelling grounds, still a good few righteously prodigious universal trippers vibin' out there somewhere, but mostly what one sees is all the tension from each individual unfulfilled glory stickin out of all these starvin little receptacles. i seen a lot of em sittin in there not hearin a word of it, won't hear it, just sittin tightly inside and marinading in one sort of transfigurin glow or another, breedin with the cancers and the bore dumbzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz,, 


 all them zzzz's will put ya fast to sleep. just dont face em with them cursued forgotten dreams, gotta keep em from rememberin, remembering the way their own primordial stink stank, its a good stank though, real earthy like. but just forget it,  cause it only makes the insides scream out and we dont want to hear that shit, dont wanna see how messy it can get, kill the sound that turns us on and puts us back in synch with the celestial hum that all this microwavable inferior interference has been blockin out.  dont want to bring up what brings us down, dont want to admit that we aint got the drive to get these fleshy weights off the ground, dont let the cold hard complacency sink in.  shit no man, i mean yes, instead of no, try saying yes, i say, then turn it off, or on, on is the thing.  we'll start by cuttin out all that perplexing entertainment, no more multitudes of toppings, no more baconated mayyonaise sandwich holsters, get done with all them egotistical career minded personality crisisses in group groping civic displays of fortitude, no more superbowl parties, in fact, death to all holidays, no more crystal meth light for the likes of youz freaks, were talking away all of yer internet porn also as well, back to the pre dawn of lyin under the sun with a head full of mastabatory caveman fantasies, use yer filthy imaginations, thats what there there for. no more shiny things, and let those poor organ grinding monkeys go man, you had yer fun, no more gravity bongs, smoke a joint, turd, er better yet use a seashell. too much variety inside the death box, break out, make that the choice

                                                                                


.................. and finally were taking away yer weekends, you people are all assholes, ya didnt use em right anyways and shiny shiny things, was that mentioned, no more of the same, burn it all, no more doors, only outdoors now, go flop around out in the streets, cover yourselfs in the extemporaneous excremental filth of your fore fathers, take out yarrr penississis and vaginaazizz and any other genitals you can muster up and use them on one another out in the open public, tell the neighbors yer gay, even if you think your not, because when it comes down to it, your all gay, everyone be gay, all at once, let the men be gay with the women and dogs gay for the squirrells, now squireels take out yer penises and vaginals and make fun with some inantimate object, try makin time with one of those devious little lawn gnomes for example. be creative. now all you gay people on the streets that are presently fkn one another, one additional announcement, were taking away yer booze, thats right, yer already drunk enough without it, learn to make it yourself if you really want it that bad. ohh,  and all those motherfkn taco salads, there all gone, build your corn tortillas and and taco sass upward from your long discarded dreams, theres bound to be sour cream deposits somewhere up in them thar hills. and cut them pills outta them moderating hearts of yers, let them beat erratically. I know, i started it, its ok, im a bastard too, my life until now, has been just a series of moments between cigarettes. and another thing while were all out here in the open, i am frightened to death of all of you people and yer unfamiliarities. Its ok now, im coming to terms with it and thats the first step, now come over here and hold me, now fuck me in front of all those other people, everyone cheer. now turn on the lights and kill that fkn jukebox, you didnt need to hear that god damned bob seger song again anyway, its last call fer yar stupid fkn barred lives, the glass has all been smashed out, everyone can now see your bare asses, go home and tell yer lonely families to knock that fkn shit off, its rotting yer brains, givin ya falsified dreams, chances are you will never be able to suck your own cock anywho,  cant we ever just have nice and open family time, how was yer day, i dont know? what happened?where am i? i think i quite my job, who the fk are you people anyways?, what are you doing in my rumpus room? was this just a dream? youve been hangin around me fer twenty years and i rreally dont know, honestly who the fk are you.>>? have a carrot, no wait, im running away from this place, sell the kids, burn the house, shave the animals and send them to the streets to let start anew.  i want to be a futuristic telepathically inclined gay cowboy. no more fkn around, seems like a good as time as any to cut off this ridiculous shirad, lets all call it a former existence and get the hell out of these seperated dwwelling portals.


 Everyone at once, don't clog up the roads, just walk  away calmly, start a conversation with the unknowns aside you, spread yer shit out, yes, thats the ticket, yes, we go on 3, we all go, no turning back,  1.....2222......., fkn, run the citadel is burning, there's chemicals in the air and water smells of chicken dung, quick, grab some good walking shoes, i know a place where the fun aint so sparse and breathable, i promise, it aint just somethin else to do here. we shall construct a lovely ghost town in the midst of this here forrest, and haunt it ourselves, hundreds of tree houses lined throughout, everybody sing, "why should we buy postage stamps when we can make our own",  but first put this metaphysical gun to yer face and squueeze that cosmic trigger,   a million miles from here, off to the nevermore, now look over your shoulder, here comes the world back to a scary quiet place again, its ok,, it just takes time, or lack of it entirely, just motion and motion to build up and out of this mess. something had to give sooner er later, we cantent not go on like this indefintly, no, somthing must break, but then agin, maybe we can, maybe we have , maybe its been like this fer awhile. maybe its happened a thousands time before, my father said he thought the world would end back in the cold war days, figured something would have to wipe the slate clean, but it never did so they all had to get jobs. why do we still have jobs, i dunno man, it seems to be speedin on up. gettin real crowded here, lots of plastic and more taco salads than ever, i think there was somethin in the bible about taco salads. were sleepin in the tip top of them thar pyrimads as we reek of culmination, flip it over, let it all drain into the bottom of this fkered up hour glass, hell , brk the fkn glass and spread that granular shit back out into the cosmic tide pool of infinitude. i was just a kid when i rermembered to forget, i think i fkd up ma, where the hell was i goin on to in the first place. goodbye sweet dreams, can i still be jim morrison?

                                                                                                                                                           

fragmented imagery from the future passed

-Wondering along beaches of the strangest nature, a series of sandy cutaways in the side of these magnified red and orange bluffs. I find a maybe sort of meet up of the thousands of suicides to commit from the golden gate bridge. All gathering together here in some next-door dimension that links up real close by to the bridge, a sort of purgatory if you will, but not at all in the punishing way the christians have sorted it out to be. This is a contemplative zone, a realm where those whom still need to think or mend on some matters in a different sorta light, get thrown to a new shade of perspective to do so. Here they can sit amongst the beauty and such kindred spirits to find what they need to reach the next bardo/dimension/realm of reality. I meet with many of these folks just for the sake of my curiosity to show me where they had gone. No words here, we wonder and watch and wait and learn. This is some faraway beach, reminds of the alice in wonderland from the eighties with sammy davis jr. as the caterpillar, the beach scene with the walrus, the way they had isolated that beach, something about film and certain beach scenes, hell even certain novels, i can get a similar feeling from the end of the warriors, or that end portal in little monsters with fred savage, i even see the same thing in camus, the stranger. This place gives me a particular feel, maybe like the same reason i can feel more contented living out in los angeles. This is the end of the land i have been traversing for so long, even if not a definite physical end, a feel that a new world lies beyond where we must make new means of adaption. The sea wall, no where else to go, every which way is backwards, but what a lovely natural flow for a wall to possess. But there i am with these souls deep in thought, beautiful rooms where water runs, this ground is most certainly in between. It is half ocean and half land, it is in the midst of materializing one way or the other, a half developed photograph, essentially, this is what everything always is to those whom embrace such notions. Is this water erasing, or forming. No need for selection because it is doing much of both, along with a lovely variance on a notion we cannot put into such simplicity, yet if viewed as  a dream, one may fully understand. In these times slices there is no question of how to feel time. A man jumps of a bridge and instantly comes up into a new perspective, a new fog, whatever one calls it. He sits in this new awakened dream as it is dreamt for no real period of time, maybe say, 400 years to the awakened once dreamt mind. But only a short breath of a though on this beach. Enough time to come across ones delusions and reinvent them into a sorted new conclusion and awake back to sleep through the absorption line.


- I seen this domineering bully fellow standin on old new york street corners just being a bully with his jean jacket and fingerless leather bully gloves. What a bully. He Kinda looks like a fat version of Judd Nelson from the breakfast club. But he's doin this weird smash em up routine like some dejected street performer. His schtick is like smashing tvs in the street, but he does it all peculiar like in his own super bully beater fashion. Like he has this constant supply of television sets setup behind him and a steady stream of little kids to beat up circling around him. So he'll just punch one of the kids in the face, the kid crys, and then he pulls a tv from the stack and smashes it and shakes his fist at the next kid in line all, "You better watch it buddy", like. This goes on fer awhile until some luxury sedan pulls up and he starts destroyin that. Bustin out all the windows, rippin off the antenna, then he just starts bouncin the kids off the hood and throwing the tvs on the roof. I would imagine the man still at it.

-A silvery metallic stainless steel gorilla fights a real fleshy ape gorilla in a dried out creek bed, the real gorilla wins. Im on my way back from a ghost town and cut across desolated graveyards making my way through an abandoned summer camp that, for some odd reason, is now inhabited by the ghosts of some, not so long forgotten, campers named Pearl and Terry. They tell me that, if i want to, i should goto the lodge further on down into the woods. I think i do. Upon seeing said lodge, i most certainly want to go in and look around because it reminds me of  the lodge of my childhood memories at camp tippecanoe back in ohio. But i also want to get some of those miniature boxs of cereal, that i know damn well they have. I find the place as a spookily quiet version of its former self, big old A frame ceilings with a giant stone fireplace, things mostly as they were before folks split. I go to a buffet sorta table lined with varieties of magical cereals of the likes ive never seen before and select a blue and red box with a zany lookin dragon on it and go back outside to find it has hardened into a sort of shiny little cereal roll. I go down a hill by way of steppin stones and  wander into some indy rocker flavored kids whom seem to be preoccupied with their current occupation of measuring trees and styling their leaves in accordance with the catalog of current leaf stylings that they possess. Im not so sure about these kids, they seem a bit purgatorial er somethin. There is an old saloon further down the path, a weirdo woodsy ghost town bar, old west stylings all done with busts of strange hybrid lookin animals that dont seem quite dead. Inside brainiac, the spastic rok and/or roll outfit from dayton ohio is playing songs, but their sort of leisurely going about it, as the stroll around the saloon and back and forth to the neato old wood front porch. I wander on down the forrest path and make it to a grassy opening in the middle of the woods as the sun starts to rise, or set. I hear folks creepily calling a name out from beyond. I figure it might be pearl and terry. As im lookin around for them a feisty little orange and white kitten walks out into the clearing. I pick er up and walk a ways until i come to an old dirt road leading to a farm house that looks like a more inviting version of the texas chainsaw family farmhouse.. pearl and terry or on the porch waiting for me, and assume they were calling for this lost kitten. I give to them, but they tell me its not the right one and i walk away with it. whatevr pearl and terry, ill be fine...

-I carry stockpiles of library books about witches and faeries from metallic new wave libraries to stone medieval castles and in between am attacked by hordes of evil dwarfs with bows and arrows. Luckily for me, ziggy, joe lockards old dog comes to my rescue. He jumps up on my back and is wearing some strange old cloak of armor, he instructs me to run along the river and dive in when he says so. I dive and we swim through the bottom and end up in a hobbit like cottage where ziggy lives with his wife and kids. There all so cute, wearing these fancy, yet modest, little dutch lookin outfits. I know my brain is lovely fkd. But ya, i then realize ziggy is covered in arrows and i help him pull em out and put neo-sporin on his cuts. Thanks ziggy, sorry for feeding you rocks and chocolate syrup while we were tripping on acid. I hope you find that big tennis ball in the sky someday.

-seemingly cold strange and kinky sex acts are revealed to be heartwarming and sincere. my rock and roll is down on the hospital bed with marks on her face stained there by an imperfection of a past life & it makes me love her more than ever. This is another world we have moved on from now on. our present world shall be fleeting never to return to the same place twice. For now we are living underground in tunnels that quickly fill with junk pieces as well as just plain garbage. we walk to the side to get to where were going. we reside in strange boiler rooms off to the sides of these tunnels. we want out of here severely at times. we feel the stagnation and the piling ups around us. we are constantly looking with our eyes wide open. we know that in the bottom. of our hearts. that things will change. with purpose. and that these halls of shit. that line our lives from time to time. are meant as experience. all the same. On the other hand. these places could be a metaphor. for the  self medication and numbing of the mind. saved by love. scarred by love.

-I am forced into some strange and bland crapily moderated 1990s daytime TV flavored teenage help court where one is expected to bring in some sort of flavorless uninspiring inspirational political poetry to read to the judge at the beginning of each session, The judge being, none other then, a well-to-do phillisha rashad from the cosby show. It had been previously suggested that i need to embrace my politically correct 1995 flavored afrocentric side by reading her maya angelou poems. The reason for my being there was because of the fact i had been obnoxiously screaming in my schooling classes and signed onto a declaration, stating that I will refuse to settle down. The situation was that if one was to plead not guilty they could fight their charge, but had to pay $5000 dollars to enter such a plea. Although the system in general here preferred the guaranteed dollar with the non-guilty plea,  being a woman of principle, submission was preferred over any monetary values by mrs. huckstable and her bullshiet systematics. So yes, Fk the cosbys..... turtle neck wearin uncle tom mthfkrs.

-a naked and breathable corpse of a man sits in a morgue leisurely preparing his own body to be buried as if he were dressing himself. He connects his self to a machine resembling a sort of body brace that one would wear after a very bad accident to prevent any sorts of bodily movement whatsoever. The mechanism screws holes into different points of his body as he proceeds to get upon a cold steel mortuary examination table inserting an arrangement of tubes into various places in his brace that run into his body. He then begins the process of draining out all of his own blood and then embalms himself. 

-I go wandrin through more old desert towns coming across yesterdays buildings, some of them i used to live in, others just people i know. I go to a desert church where kids used to throw parties and find remnants of other lives and thier living supplies.  I wander around the back and find a young women whom invites inside of her. She explains things to me that i was unaware of when she takes me for who i am. I watch her remove her plastic breasts to reveal a flesh set of lovely embraceable ones.  We both come and go in an old mexican grocery store and i cant say ive seen her since. I move on back to an apartment where i used to never live and find the scent of tall james and other temporary friends of my past still hangin round. Someone split from here in a hurry. the refrigerator door still hangs open and somebody's cheese collection is beginning to smell. I look through the house for a while until i make my way through the creek that leads away from it. Its a glorious creek that feeds me memories of glorious colorado skys, particularly the one from my dirt pile romance with those birds in boulder. I watch through the water as the sky goes pink and blue and red and orange, and pink and red. I keep following the sky in the water until i see the creek being raised off the ground by wooden stilts, the whole flow comes up with it, i remember my parents and fade out.

-A dastardly looking Pope Pious the XVII is dressed in his red and white robes sporting his oversized gnome/dunce cap and stands in a large cathedral right below the alter. People stand in a long procession, lined throughout the aisles, waiting to have their pictures taken with him while he posed in a variety of postures with his enormous gavel.

-Hanging out at some eternal childrens birthday party at a bizarre chuck e cheese flavored discotheque. I am forever haunted by these bizzaro mutant chuck e cheese puppets that griped my mind so tightly as a boy. I have so many rich images forever burnt into my head from a many birthday parties spent in the darkly dim walls of chucke e cheese, in a way, it was kinda like my first acid trip. So here i am back again, introducing a new generation to this madness and explaining why these new breeds of puppets are just not quite the same. I am then assigned the job to make up games to play with the children. Aside from trying to communicate with antiquitious puppet ghosts, I recollect "construct the faulty fireplace" and "100 ways to wear saran wrap".

-Sunny sunny backwoods amusement parks without the crowds and layered filth. I ride through stary purple skies upon giant yellow foam rubber water slides that bounce all over the world. We flow as ships through the constellation encrusted tree tops at night as my mother telepathically conveys the highs that she used to expierence from early rod stewart lps. Up in the upper corridor of the woods a gathering occurs at night. A friend and i look down the hill into the homes of neighbor friends whom we at times purchase groceries for. i am to decide by looking in thier fridge and based upon thier personables, whom deserves the grocieres this time around. I ride bikes down wet shiny and dark hills.

-At a large tan and sweaty colored gym with an abundance of saunas and hot tubs watching from above as legless men worked out their nonexistent legs and arm less men built up their nonexistent arms .

A group of 7-800 skinheads assemble on a cobblestone rooftop in an 1831 flavored london town,  at a sort of retread collection rally. The entire gaggle of stooges standing completely naked upon their shiny shiny skinned heads sporting massive hard ons while chanting football club like-songs and listening to a right side up and etrectionless fuher speaker speak fervorantly about chimney sweeping techniques.

-Wearin out my welcome and other times im not so sure how the kids really feel. But mostly, or most importantly, i have per-chanced upon some very wondrous oddities here off of the santa barbary coast. I go walking into reproductions of monstrous private resort mansion country style clubs of either 1899 or 1932, it all depends on whom you may ask. A very deep deep brown the further deep deep down inside one goes into this exquisite collection of woodworking's. I do believe the suits and hair stylings will also give an era away. Some cold looks, and some still not quite decided, from the clientele here, but nothing too outright welcoming as i invade their scene. But what i recall most was on the outside of these privatized buildings, up on a hill in the middle of the sunshine trees, viewing oceans on top of oceans on top of seas, i climbed a ladder up to find an intricately crafted railroadin track that has been elevated through the air. There are no cars upon these tracks, its not really set for trains, the tracks are more like enlarged dominoes, around 5 foot X 2, laying together end to end, only instead of the circular dots, there are very individualized and finely crafted designs on each and every piece. The idea is to crawl around the track through the trees and view the designs and the displays that are setup beside the track on platforms in the trees. And the displays are all sorts of odd animals in tanks and cages, most of a, so to speak,  nonexistent nature. Lots of bizarre fish, some in water, some with legs in dry tanks, theres peculiar lookin swimming felines that may or may not supposed to be swimming, possibly soon to be floating. Reptiles without the edge, sorta slug like, i seen a front half of a horse kinda settin on a its stump. I cant recall all the oddities here, but i get the flavor of some sort of amusement park for eccentric and overbearing california billionaires with a slight perversion for life

-I come to my high school lunch table with dreams of being misunderstood by sterile scientists. No one here knows what i mean by my misappropriated scientist dreams. The strange lady without the science kit at the end of the table understands me without having to line up abunch ridiculous words that are bound to fall flat regardless. I get up to leave with or without her.

- I seen these seven big boned grit-toothed women in a bouncin jeep driving out on the trails coming from the city walls. But believe you me these dames were no urban fools. They had to get out of the city because the federalis are after them for blowing up the local tanning bed factorium. They break neck speed for a living anyhow, and now they can do it without restraint out here on these dusty trails.I watch em as they run outta this town for good and the way they shake and laugh one knows how much they never needed it anyway. I somehow figure it that they were long over a life of constant considering of nit-picking jerks like us and our liberal coffee house blues any damn how.  I watch em fade out as they go evaporating back to the Appalachian trails from which they were initially birthed. All us kids whom seeped up their testimonials abandon our coffee shops and turn to the boardwalk to find an easy kill in their honor. I tell a heart how i aint lost no teeth here for awhile, maybe my securities are comin back in style. And some guys named dave algers asks me if i ever wonder why we bother.

-The city streets are filled with water as the building lose a floor er two. Beneath the water there are whales.Blue whales, sperm whales, black whales, green whales, pink whales, but mostly, beluga whales. I was just sitting there on some small floating object trying to hold a meaningful conversation with some of these city whales.

-Im in attendance at Elvis's suicide party. Me and a small group of Elvis's close friends, including johnny cash, come to watch the king burn out. I stare in anticipation as Elvis meets his final moment. He was laid out on the floor surrounded by candles and  dressed in his 68'comeback special black leather jumper. Pricilla was there, she looked beautiful, more so than i ever remember. I spose Elvis looked a bit worn out, but not fat, it wasn't fat elvis, he looked much better than fat elvis ever did. So heres how this was goin down. The man was still alive, these were his final rites, in a way, and this was a sort of ceremony to put his tired ass down. There was the slickest black casket, all fit for the king, laid out to box him up when this was all said and done. Everyone circled around him, pricilla kneeled down aside him with a syringe and shot him up with some sorta unknown something, then proceeded to give him head. I  then see her reach up to give him a final kiss, with, what i assume as, elvis's final remains on her face. Nothing dirty about though, all real sweet, i think i may have even teared. Then it flashes on and i am left to a series of images. First, elvis laying in his casket, then a fresh lone grave by some trees, then the grave and the grass grown ing in, then weeds covering up the tombstone, then the tombstone cracked and crumbled until i just see a picture of an empty lookin field. toodle-loo Elvis.

-There was regularly gay old family fiestas inside someones crappy cookie cutter mountain home condominium which possessed mile long staircases somewhere near the mile high city. Here goes on with the wildly mild bachelorette parties with cramped down with 1980's style women wearing matching occasional t-shirts. John Elway shows up and has sex with them all while talking on a cell phone to some sort of devil. I get bored and lonely and end up cuming on the floor and no one is satisfied but the once super clean carpet.

-grocery stores with nothing but the most exquisite collection of strangely  shaped multi- colored glass bottles one can imagine. backroom team meetings, flying bicycles through the woods skimming onto jumps of fake dirt hills and the most incredible 3 yr old street urchin i ever did meet.

- I fall to sleep in an bare and abandoned basement only to walk in an alternate dimensions take of that same basement. Added are elaborate chinese designs, waterfalls, gold trim, rasta lookin tuff gong lions, transparent carpet, a glass ceiling and the roof is surrounded by mountains and trees. I take the stairs, which are now an escalator upwards into some fancy dinner party scene being held in some future cities tramway station. I ride the escalator all the way to the top and find among a room of sleepers, to feel a secret agent hangin around near by. I spot this man, by being the only one whom is, making eyeballs hold at me. I come to him and press him for conversation skills to see if he will self destruct. I ask him how he is doing, he tells me, "Fine". I ask him if he has been here very long, He says, "No", i ask him where it is he has come here from, which i somehow know will be the exposing riddle. And his answer is, " So wait, where ya from". I immediately become lucid here based on his response. He knows hes fkd and basically starts shorting out like a shorted robot on repeat and keeps repeating himself. "So wait where ya from," "Thats what i was going to tell you", "So wait, where ya from." " Thats what i was going to tell you", over and over. I turn to the crowd below and scream out, "I Got Him, Hes A fake, an Agent". Then proceed to throw a desk worth of office supplies down into the crowd. Everyone begins to panic and run out of the building. This feels like the scene from the labyrinth where sara snaps out of her trance and smashes the mirror to get out of Jareth's purgatorial dream masquerade ball. As everyone flees, a red light comes on and a sort of fire alarm sounds. A loudspeaker kicks on and keeps repeating, "FIND YOUR PURPOSE", over and over,  until the room is completely emptied save for me, still standin up above, and this old wise lookin rastaman, down below. He just looks at me and smiles.

-Watch out for the new world secret police whom walk door to door making sure everyone punches their vote, for the vietnam snake bite miracle vet, into their automated voting box machines.

-the guests at the hospital resort were so offended when they changed the lounge music to opera that they got up and checked out. Everyone except for picnic bob whom just likes to play stupid jokes like that to for a laugh and to gain everyones attention.

-Now they keep me goin back to somebody's job that aint mine. Its a sort of 1980s discount drug store where they keep me to work. I work most every nigh round 2am. It feels like this place called gold circle from the 1985 and 6s. There are a lot of dust particle in here, just like back then, that cloud up the light and make it feel like lookin into space. Possibly a relatively new galaxy in formation. Gold circle maybe being the formation and simultaneous destruction of a could-have-been galaxy in a time where maybe i wasn't aware of such notions, so i just remember the smell of fkd up hot dogs. Butaaa, ima walkin around the store watchin hobos dig through the discounted clothing bins and i find some ultra slick space age one piece lookin space suit and a sailing hat. I put them on and go floatin around the store on the back of speedy shopping carts making words to the home bums until some boss lady named nina hagen comes up and tells me to get to my post because the late night rush is about to pour in where all the eating-wise women come down from the hills to purchase their diet cookie and cake products for the nightly twilight feed. I moderately hustle to my register and begin the frenzy of ringing up peoples future garbage and stand to get bitched upon by customers whom have come to expect more out of their shopping experiences.  

-i find myself outside of an old cathedral behind an antique camera as  the ghosts of some family from the victorian era have come back into this mexican town for a family photo session. There all dressed up perfectly in elaborate garb of the time. I follow them across fields and streets excitedly capturing them as they fade back into time one by one. i develop the photos only to find that all the paper holds is images of circuits and memory chips.

-I had a friend who was a bear, a rather tall brown bear that would walk side by side with me every where i went. This bear was fully capable of producing ordinary sorts of facial expressions to fill me in on his mood. We were really good friends and would do nearly everything together, but for some reason no one would believe such a friendship to be possible. So he would open his mouth real wide and i would grab his jaws and wrestle him to show people that we really were the best of friends.

-Walking with some woman business owner through her recently obtained bath house/ steam room. This place is the midst of nowheres in an urban hole. inside it is dark and nobody is assumed to be inside. It seems very small upon entering. But once the back section is penetrated we see that there is crazy depth here. I find a mexican man showering in one of the stalls,  and inform him that the place is not yet open and he needs to go after he finishes up. He responds by saying, "What? i ve been here all day showering." I tell him he must be pretty damn clean by now and that he should split when he finishes with this last showering. As we make out way to the back of this place, even further in, it opens up more and more, an entire city is developing inside what at first seemed as a small bath house. In the way back we come across a small health clinic being run by two women, a white and black woman, both younger. This place, like the rest of the building is contained inside of a much larger warehouse. All these areas are like sets inside of giant studios. Everyone inside this health clinic seems quite sickly and almost near death. An old woman instructs here middle aged an sickly son to speak up for him self and tell the women what they should now concering his case. He immediatley gets irritable, as he was used to his mother nagging him, and tells here to stop speaking for him. We move on, the black nurse woman comes with me. Here the building almost turns into a sort of mall, I ride escalators down and back up and once again wander upon strange government sorts of vehicles. Firetrucks and this once humv sort of thing where the driver pops up and down like  a jack in the box on a crank to make it move. Things disapeer here and I find myself in a lovely lite living room hanging round with beautiful rok n roll vampires and showing them all these weird videos I had made of muppet sorts of puppets. Out to the side as the night turns to day and all the kids run home. 

-Chicago works in two ways dependent upon what switch has been throwin. There are the Green circuits, and the Red circuits. Sometimes it is running on the red circuits, and then the whole city is composed of red circuitry in which nothing flows proper and many a things come to an awkward halt. When the red circuits are on i keep worrying about my future, about my car and insurance policies and getting broken hearts and having cellular phones that dont function correctly, and not being able to breath, parking tickets, venereal diseases, bacon fat in my french fried potatoes, losing my place to live and getting burnt up in fires and i find walls at the end of the city that make me lose my find. But when the green circuits are in function the city flows beautifully and everything is not of worry. I climb upon said walls and sail off of them, work is obsolete, I do not drive, i fly and skim over the city and swim underneath it, i live under the water with my heart and we dont need to breath if we dont want to.  With the green circuitry in flow, there is no need of restraint, or consideration of protocol, the kids just flop where they need whenever it is needed and fear and guilt have both gone aslept. 

-Future space station police station where all the cops look pretty typical, except for Steve from beverly hills 90210 is on the force. I say, "Steve", and he just ignores me all flustered like, as if he doesn't want to admit he knows me. I go sit down behind the desk next to Steve just to force him into an interaction and suddenly realize im a cop too. I get the strangest idea that  i might be scott bakula and this is quantum leap. In an instant my mission is clear. I stand up, throw an old metal desk fan at the wall and proclaim, " I QUIT!!!". As i walk towards the door some woman cop jumps in front of me and tells me that if i leave i can't come back. I just tell he that I dont even care at all and walk on by. As i walk outside i see a bunch of other cops in the parking lot leaning on their cop cars smokin cop flavored cigarettes. I tell them that they don't know what the hell there doing and that they should quit being cops. They just look at me all confused like as i walk off to go find sam.

-More subsequent worlds of chance where the maze continues upward and burns out into a tightly wound 1976 southern california holiday inn. They hold features like sky walks, glass ceilings, tan brown manilla carpet covered walls, one too many cocktail coasters and consecrated continental breakfasts. I dont mind, i am only here to deliver my grandmother to her room so she can wait on this dimly light artifact ner the coast so she can be reunited with her dead father, whom by the way is me. She tells me my sense of humor is just like her fathers, my love of particular details of this sphere, is just like her fathers, my facial expressions and mannerisms are just like her fathers. I bare such a very close knit resemblance to her father and it seems to her to be the damnedest of things. I want to tell her, but she will probably think i am lost. I figure she must know sub consciously somehow. So is it that i am your father? No. I may have looked through that reality tunnel once upon a time in some completely different posture, But, i am no more him than i am my own father. But there is some connection within here. I do believe i have a great deal of the mans configuration, maybe his light rites infused with the particular energies that flung him across this world for a better part of the last century. Nonetheless, a similar spiritual sorta engine. These lights may have ben released or rather, birthed a time piece or two ago. Some line along some ancient long forgotten german town that opened up for us. I suppose it could really even be most anywhere in that old frame of a sphere for that matter where such birthing light spread to the correct organisms and mutated a growth of specific tastes and sentimentalities to up and create and evolve throughout, start off this long running game of tag into its flow. We collect and trim and burn and learn and pass off these words of advice to those of us whom keep up these ends and keep coming back around to check on there memories and frequencies. But im to be going now, and just before i leave her here to set, she tells me a date to remember, february 20th?

-I have also found the most interesting collections of dead hippies possessions. I wander throughout warehouses of some previously futuristic generations collection complex of tangible items. Me and Neil Young are the only patrons at the moment and we are figuring things out as we browse through the selection of grateful dead jean jackets. I tell him that their nice and all, but i don't figure id wear one, he says that he wouldn't either. Im sure i can find something more to my tastes. This place really does have a marvelous feel to it. 

-Why did they take out the window in the high rise room, i was just wondering. They tried to cover back up with plastics and other various designs, but the wind still blows in as i lay on the floor and wait patiently for the rest of the building to fall. Apparently, it was because a flying honey-less honey bear had attempted to gain entrance. Its perty damned mangled but the kid never made it inside. I go down street side and find some old brooklyn lookin city place, get in a blue car and go drivin cross the country. But the mad things is ima ridin on my head. I dont know precisely the location of it, but i know where it thinks it is. I stop at a bus stop that reminds me of some carnivalesque take on amish country. I do remember these picture from the life i once led in the swiss alps? Apparently these people around here knew something more than they had initially led on, they walk around with a strange air tellin me that the children of the corn may have passed through. I seen my friend mary at the bus stop too and she tells me that i was supposed to be at the sea by now. Ya right, thats were i was goin in my blue car, down to the the southern seas. I get down there real quick and carry myself around there just a bit and find my head must be 14 years again because of the way it holds the place. I lock hands with a mousy lookin bleedin mascara girl wearin a nirvana shirt, shes pry 15. This all seems familiar here, i used to come down this way in the early 90s and listen to my headphones and try to kiss new jersey guirls with name s like danielle while sharks circled around our beach chairs. So the memory preserved and i do still stumble albeit, but we eventually make it to lay in our shallow creek, more of a wading pool encircled by small but large enough bushes to keep privately enchanted and fortress like. Were laying here on sleeping bags floating on op of the water until someone's stray child flops through the bushes and cause the sleeping bags to sink on down. i pull em up to dry on the embankment but find they arent wet anyhow, but still feel compelled to feel bad for the kids who loaned me my soul and various other camping equipments. Im not sure where im gonna go from here, i think that lady has left, im not so sure she wanted too, i just figured she got sad and dark, from the eyes, i figured that much. Sad part from me and my fleeting nature and part in general from the sadness of this place. Dont make no matter now, i like yer flickering eyeballs any damn how. Now the sky is real blue like, night blue like. My uncle john s got his camper set up on the other beach and i watch a movin picture of myself eatin cereal bowls underneath the stars. I think that was my favorite dusk ive ever been too. and i like the cereal also and as well.  

-I seen the mountains and the trees all burnin out. i was on some sort of vacation to the place where i reside. Cousins, family, and other peoples wives, were hanging around the meadow which would have been down the street from this place, if only in a more natural time period. Nonetheless all things real and external, real divine like. I had a bunch of missions, nothing major, just little disconnected chores to keep running to whenever there was a lack of something real to do. I spent a lot of time runnin betwixt my brush fort in the meadow, through the woods to my tree forts. Folks were there, brother too, the whole damn family i do believe. We'd sometimes go into town, to random stores that werent really stores but more like meeting rooms. I seen a whole variety of others that i never imagined i would find. I'd sit down in those backroom gatherings until id lose patience and flash back to my forts. Id get up naked, but at the last minute grab some white sheet to drape. Not that i minded, but just to stay respectable for the sake of someones else parents. I get to my next stop in this country sorta town and find the virgin mary was to be in the room sitting by the fireplace having a lonely thanksgiving celebration, although it seemed more like a wake. After thanksgiving she went up by the rafters and hung around most of the ceilings corners. I think i may have got stuck again, but i dont really know. But save for that, the main thing i recall was being inside a barnyard feeding friendly dogs and maybe horses inside of their pens. Inside they keep fences and outside was just a pond. Everything was pretty normal and calm until a rabid goat got a taste for blood and tried to destroy me with his horns and teeth. Id throw food over the fence to try and get him to stay out, but he'd just jump the 5ft fence and come straight back at me with about twice the hatred for my ankles. But then again, i guess i really dont blame him.

-Artificial shoplifting from a dimensionally divided liquor store. I pay $1.50 and receive a free bottle of some korean women's granddaughters science project. I do not understand the ways of this store, most likely it does not matter anyhow. Banana Liquor is slowly drippin from the shelves and beginning to cover the most of the floor. This neighborhood is known too me, and i too it. i believe i have spent a great amounts of time, once upon a time, outside in these streets, specifically upon these beautifully sun strangled sidewalks they keep here. Here, it is somewhat of an ideal chicago, the sort of chicago from someone else's memories where one could ride multi colored horses through the streets if they so desired. The building upwards through the stairs case, was once my ideal living quarters. It kept more shades of blue than one could keep a handle on and the floors and ceilings were carpeted in burgundy. But mostly what i could hold onto was the wondrous selection of personages, some fleshy, some not so much. One lady named katherine, let us not forget her, told me things about myself that i could have never seen in a billion years outside lookin in. Thank you Katherine, i hope we shall meet again.

-eyeballs wide and shiny to keep hauntin the most of these planes all by myself and I still, want the Fkn MOON!! Not a thing to say here outside of that fact. But if i must..it goes quickly like this. Big white fields of snow at the foot of some dark and purple mountain by night and all there is to see and say is that I want the god damned moon. Im trying to find the most approriate manner for capturing it so it can saddle it and ride into some other galaxy to arrive in style for my friends were supposed to meet me and will most likely all be riding upon thier captured moons from each of their specific planets.

-I stand in some forgotten elevated kitchen with a box of someones discarded corn tortillas watchin the world develop on the outside. Bicycles appear and disappear and along come the wakeful kids with projected thoughts of extravagant transvestites and cellulite telephone operating devices.  I throw my reclaimed tortillas back to the refrigerator, put on the coffee and lean on the cigarettes. Other folks are now pourin in, homeless dan and his bag of inter dimensionally leaked cassette tape spirit recordings, a couple of yard dog lookin curious circus kids, animal whiskey with his rapidly deteriorating production crew, some stevie nicks lookin forcefield harnessers and a small gaggle of other shiny greasy folk. They all want a seat, some ask for cigarettes and as i attempt to make them, these rolling papers turn into junk mail and i burn them in their pile on the floor. Fail often fail, these notions have been deemed incapable as we move on the next. Animal says we must go to the mountains, i look to the laundry line that leads upward and concur. We make a quick journey and end up in a snowy living room where the carpet is grass and everyone sits on a bed in an otherwise empty room. I turn to locate something specific and dig oh so deeply into my bag of unneeded crap and doubt i ever find it as the whole collection blends with the freshly fallen snow. I stand up to look into the eyeballs of the kids sitting on the bed to find that there all very sincere and quite a pleasure to know. I apologize for trying to bring such unnecessary debris into their lovely home and they tell me its no matter because its all been purified by the unseasonable seasonry. This helps me to understand them much better. I turn to find out that i can see through the walls out into the streets. i see where it is that they walk, i see who and what they usually encounter, and i see what it is that they understand about this town that they have been dwelling within. We end up on a way high water park flavored log ride that runs throughout the blue old mountains that used to surround us inside that snow den. An old slick black jazz man is our tour guide and explains to us something about the nature of comings and goings betwixt trumpet bursts.

-this story goes on. new world hollywood. Hiding out in mansions while sky monstrosities drop statues from up above and smash through this house and splash into the pool. There is a younger wise like man whom is a prince of certain powers and a certain fortress. he is of a blonde nature and rules a certain era that I could never rule. His people respect and come to him with thier forces to expedite a future and discus someones plans. I know this man will sooon be dying and arrive at his home in the company of his friends, infatuated, and saddened, wanting to disclose this information of his coming fall. I see him standing alone outside his indoor pool and make my way to the bathroom to try and feel out a proper moment to forewarn him. He keeps getting caught up in other circumstances and I am having trouble making with my proper words. We go to the inside near a nice wooden room that seems as a sort of lounge/bar area. I meet some others and finally i meet her. She is cosmic and wondrous and we skip over lifetimes and she knows me well. She is this dying mans lover. And in front of him she tells me that she loves me. I know she is someone I have yet to experience in this lifetime. Still I try to minimize it so he does not feel like shit, he almost seems affected, but he is also slightly pre-occupied. He is aware that his death is approaching. At first I know the situation brings an amount of sadness. But I am also aware that this man will soon be dead and a relation may develop that was stronger than any before. I realize that this is how things push and pull within the world. Death is taking and life is filling back in.

-Too much too soon. A billion fragments will not connect as i leave my real head way too quick for my head of artifice to absorb back into. I go walkin by my lonesome through more of these vast graveyards. Sorta feel like rose hill in chicago combined with the acid frkout mort set down toward nawlins in easy rider. The sky and space feels like chicago, but the tombs more like dennis hoopers. I keep cuttin in and out the rows and find myself starin down at a few really intricately strange lookin ones. Like this one particular tomb, around 9-10 feet up and over with a large red elephant carved into the midst of a circle and with the name of some sorta, i assumed, airline company engraved at the foot. I had seen another name, most likely that of the one contained within, writin across the top. I wanna say something like Heilman, but cannot recall fer certain. Anyways, i keep on movin through and, almost instantly, began to develop this joyous sorta urge expanding within myself until i just cold bust out into this explosive broadway kinda number. Its crazy, i tell ya, its like im possessed by the ghost of fred astaire or some zany gay ol timey starlet like that. But i keep belting this song out, getting louder and more passionate, until i notice someone else approaching me from a patch of trees near by. I cant begin to describe how completely grand and wondrously absurd this all felt.  The man comes over to me, im still singin as he approaches, and he basically just cuts in with the call and response until were both dancing all over the god damned graveyard skippin off of tombstones like a bunch of city queers, vomiting up one the greatest broadway musical that the world has never seen. And then, it grows and grows and grows, as if right on que, more  folks spill out of the woodwork until we have a full on stage show of monumentous proportions. And honestly, i dont even like most musicals, but lemme tell you...this was somethin else. I got to thinkin after the fact about it all, and figured that this could be a great idea if everyone was zombies and they start rippin up through the earth only to join in some slap happy dance number. I woke up smilin real wide on that one, was still actually singin as i came out of it. Wish i could recall the melody and words...

-Strange trader joes managers trying to find me some eggs that i was unaware i wanted in the first place. The ones i had come across in the store have all been broken, no rot or anything there all just cracked about. BUt this fellow he tells me they should be on thier way with some more fairly soon here and if i wait around.... I ride my bike around the parking lot, while passing him back and forth noticing the strange contortions upon his face. Eventually, he convinces me to follow him back to his fortress area. Upon arriving I see it is a giant wooden tower. This building reminds me of a place i had dreamt to before way back and away. I climbed to the top of said tower and had a conversation with kurt cobain in my childs eyes. This time I find my way to the top and find the trader joes manager to be chasing little naked boys and everyone is perverse and completely insane. The communication is nonexistent and confusion runs rampant. Its the feeling of running from something, not out of fear, but out of something thats hard to identify. This is like those dreams I used to have of the mockingbird scoffing against my naked buttocks and trying to get me to squirm. I find my way into a different area of this building and stumble across a music show, the kids all feel damn spanish. Again, as in other trips like this, I see kurt cobain and courtney love playing acoustic music for these people in a strange manner. Kurt is almost hiding behind electronic debris and I now have been given a video camera that is supposed to preserve this as an important document of this time piece. In my minds eyes I feel this to be the future-past and it is assumed that this must be saved for my future head. I try to scan the crowd and pick up all whom are concerned, i watch kurt through the lens and remember his face. Later on I ask him a question, what day is this? He says april 13th. And I tell him to watch out for his future self and go out back to a connected warehouse passing courtney who makes frustratable noises  towards her team powers of imaginary manipulations. I run all around these warehouses, passing all the kids in white, and looking for debris that i can use to construct my momentary future into a new something to do. I see a lady somewhere she whom is also constructing. And im not sure where I am for her and she for me. The world is red and brown, but relaxing and safe.

-i am charlie chaplin as the moleman and those bastards from the ticketing agency have stolen my mustache and are now demanding that i piss in a cup so they can come back to me to tell me that my body type is failing and has been fer years and i will need to find a new skin if not an entire body to save myself for and if not from another day. so here i stand in a mexican pay toilet with a strange mirror attached to the wall showing me my moleman like features. my skin is tight but i assume that i shall grow into it .all is well all is fkd but i do really enjoy these haircuts that the cosmological cosmetologists have awarded me with. so at least i got that goin for me. mthrfkr

-Oh me, oh my, what a foolish fool am I. Yes, the ridiculously tragic happenstance of a boy like me breed dreams of paranoia and deceit. Buttaaa......Last night in the real world order i was abducted by a gang of utility belt wearing thugs whom proceeded to make such unfun fun of me while forcing me to do monkey tricks in the streets. They ripped me out of my car, wallet and clothes, sold them away to some other gangs of official seeming jerks and hauled me away to their fortress of sterility. Once inside they feed me lines and forced me down into the epicenter of their cold and clammy anti-chambers, stuck me with needles and continued stealing pints of my blue blue blood. I was then herded into the ultimate in waiting room technology and forced to stare at dingy walls while pictures of mute-ant celebrities danced upon the ceiling. They then paraded each other in and out of my weakened mind while shoving their us and them philosophies onto my person until their leader, the master masocater, had prepared another vapid list of tricks he desired to see me perform. And when it was all said and done  they threw me out into the streets with a useless map to locate my stolen belongings and laughed me all the way down the road. what a bunch of fkn crap....   

-Run up on the land of fortune indians, some here are cannibals, others dont eat. I go climbing upside vines next to towering waterfalls hoping to make it into more foreign lands. Once up top i discover a flat filled with wooden huts and question wether or not they are still occupied. They are, i think these maybe the cannibals. I go off the waterfall and this time i can fly. This picture sticks forevermore. Its just the way this land looks while floating above it. I see packs of animals drivin all over the land, lakes, and rivers, typical sort of above visions. It feels as if im over south america, lots of dense forestry. Another vision of ancient futures here, one can see most everything, but what sticks the most is the enormous variety of monolithic structures down below. All with a hybrid nature about them which comes of the construction materials being mostly organic, but the design and intricacy looks as something from the future, which i suppose could be all the same as a magnificent and unremembered past. Nonetheless, keep on floating over these structures, all sorts of wondrous combinations of wooden sorts of castles, ancient japanese pagodas, whole wooden villages built up and around into the trees. I see a clearing in the middle of the woods, all the trees around here come in distinct patches of color, there will be a group of all red trees, then yellow, and even strange shades of blue. But theres a clearing in the midst of this area and a giant stonehenge sorts of monument has been built within the center. Its almost like stonehenge how it seems as a sort of timepiece or a type of encoding. Its all laid out like dominoes marking a path or signal when viewed from above. Most likely it could have contained some cosmic code  revealing ancient secrets of the universe, but i hadnt the means to translate or recognize. or possibly all that it took was for me to view it and in that instant it was enacted into my being? theres a thought. Anyhow, i eventually come down into some post -apocalyptic warehouse, that feels like something out a shitty schwarzenager film. All the inside lined up with some primeval new wave revolutionary types whom seem to be preparing for a sort of overthrow. I am taken into the belly and immediately get reprimanded by some castro lookin mother with a large mustache, actually he looks more mexican, more like pancho villa. Anyways, he tells me that it is fine to fly, but i must be careful of parading myself through the air like that where every one on the ground can see me. He tells me if the the wrong powers find a use for me, i may not be able to return to where it was i came from. Really a nice and helpful sorta guy, and good advice actually. Now a days im more careful    

-Diggin or rather removin layers of sand in a certain 4X10 area of a small beach to try and uncover anything that may pertain to us, whoever we maybe and wherever it is we maybe going. We need clues here, just to set us off in the right direction. Under the sand we discover a room, a small room almost like a cell, within the cell there are a number of oddly shaped lamps, one quite similar to my old, captain david babbock clipper ship lamp from 1896. There is also a bed here which needs to be uncovered as well. There are many layers of sheets on the bed that seem to go halfway to the sky or a least the ceiling. Eventually, i get to the main pieces of the original bed, find the original sheets and blankets only to realize that they once belonged to king henry IV..... as if anyone gives a shit.

-Out in giant mountain parks, watering dead trees, er more like shooting at them with a water hose. Im waiting for my grandpa to come over for a visit, earlier i had gone to a childhood friends home that had been turned into a giant thrift shop. I watched as folks come and go loading piles of sanford and son flavored debris into thier sanford and son flavored pick em up trucks. I walk around back to find a large group of grown men whom would like to fight me for pouring seasoning into thier tennis flavored girlfriends bowls of michelob ultra lite. Sloppy joes, sloppy marriages and things are not what they seem.

-After all these years, Hitler's still an asshole. A whole group of us kids, deep in the jungle working as a slave for Hitler, advising him on how to build some sort of nazi super fortress, but at the same time conspiring to plot his downfall. As one could assume, he is not the easiest person to work for, hes prone to fits of distemperment and he treats everyone like shit. Eventually, his temper flares up again and he flys off the handle, kicking out the supports on a bunch of natives woking in the trees and they all come tumbling downward the hill and are assumed to be dead. Its almost like Hitler playing klaus kinski playing werner herzog filming fitzcaraldo. A lot of one off big passions causing all the little kids to suffer. Then suddenly I see hitler turn his head to the sky and start screaming in german and the sun goes black, like an eclipse, except its like the sun itself actually turns black or maybe burns out. I can still see everything almost as it was, the atmosphere is still faintly lit and all, its just the sun is black, and everything taken down a shade. But I see hitler walk out into a clearing and put a gun into his mouth. I look at him and mouth "DO IT, DO IT!!" But he turns around and shoots one of his henchman, like himmler or someone. I watch as the man falls to the ground with this facial expression, that is sort of like, "Oh, that Hitler".

-Remember when the kids flew out the windows only they could not fly and crashed into the concrete over freeway underpasses while cosmic rock and/or roll bands lined the median with thier psalms of some distant constellations and abandoned crowded houses filled up with understandingly unsympathetic eyes that penetrated but refused to explore while shoving hot dogs down there desiccated throats. It did seem as though they were having a good time, i guess thats all that matters.

-I make small talk with a familiar girl i find. She may have been mentally slowed down a bit and is accompanied by an un armed protector whom is angered by such small wordings. He goes and gets dennis  hooper to reprimand me. We have a heart to heart about saying what you mean and meaning what you say, nothing else from here on out will be accepted. I explain myself to him and we arrive at a common ground and bored a large old aeroplane together. I make more friends then enemies by subjects of music and literature and end up in the double-decker aeroplanes upstairs velvety cocktail lounge watching pavement lip synch old pavement songs as a schizophrenic man like raliegh theodore sakers from the robin the hood cd sings old sublime songs to a fashionable circa 1965 british flight crew. As I think its getting late.  

-I am supposed to meet up with kurdt cobain to go camping. I am sitting in a parking lot of a lovely little enchant-able diner that feels like the one passed in that scene from paris, texas shot from the car driving into a mystical texas sunset rain cloud formation. Im on the pay phone in the parking lot next to the entrance and I can see him through the telephone, my end is turning darkened blue , but i can see streaks of light from his end. He sends me mysterious packets of information through the phone, including strange drawings, essays, and artifacts from my grandfathers basement. He tells me not to forget about the Lungfish? 

-the proprietors of this flashy new wave sort of roller disco were basically a new breed of irritable argumentative german fascist regimented robots. They wore these dark green army wear jumpsuits with florescent orange arm bands and had this strange wiry lookin robotic hair. The whole situation felt like it had been some hostile takeover of a popular roller disco in europe to try and get the reputably square nazi robots a little bit of sway in the ultra hip roller disco community. It just seemed mostly like that to me because you could tell that everyone around was freshly agitated  by their presence. It was damn funny just cause it was like all these stuck uber cool and fashionable euro kids with their pretentious roller disco attitudes trying so hard to deal with these obviously uncool nazi robots taking over thier disco, and being complete dick heads about it. But at the same time, the robots are trying their damnedest to mingle and come across as knowledgeably cool. But ya, they would just basically walk around commanding everyone to do something or another while torturing small animals and making this roving band of puppy dogs all piss on the floor. And im not sure if they were making them piss just for the sake of fear, or the nazi bots just wanted them to spill their urine to ruin peoples ambience. Anyways, nothing too cruel i spose, but just enough that everyone kinda knew where they were coming from. Eventually, i find myself alone with these two and convince them that i was way more evil than they were, but my advantage lie in the fact that nobody could tell it to be the case. So by using this brand of simplified treacherous foolery, which i believed was something somewhat unheard of in these future castle times, i had tricked the german fuher bots into calming thier jerkatude, and since they were not the most advanced robots, this was pretty easy. I just told them that to be truly great and evile one must take on a silently kind and agreeable demeanor to make the fools all wander in limbo, that they must do seemingly nice things, like pet and love the animals, buy drinks for people and bake them baked goods. And then the people would be all the more petrified when such and such does what not at a later date or something of that matter. So i left those german robots with that advice and can imagine them confusedly baking cakes at their shithole roller disco somewhere in an alternate dimension.

-They tell me that there kid ain't right. This couple i know has recently adopted a baby and they think the kid is evil because of his odd convulsions and the fact that the kid don't smile, at least no for them. One day i come across the him lying in his crib and start an interaction with him, have a conversation, do a dance, try to animate him and end up makin him to smile. I realize that these folks think of him like a dog, cold kids breedin cold kids. Hes definitely a little strange lookin, but not evil like they think him to be. I try to convince them to let me take him from them and they tell me i need to talk to their agents or some official sort of persons like that. I end up in an office speaking with said authorities on such proceedings and they tell me that i better hurry back because there planning on putting him to sleep, like a rabid dog, this afternoon. I sorta lose my shit and scramble back to the place to steal him away and find a creepily empty crib.

-I am a patient at a mental institution and am permitted to leave for brief periods of time as long as i am back by dusk. One night me and my chosen gang of bedlamites, say fk it, an run the streets all night. We sit on top of a parking garage situated in the middle of the woods and shot the moon. Eventually the sun comes up and we venture down to find giant sized tennis courts set below the most amazing mammoth mountain range ive yet to see. In comparison to others ive per chanced upon, they must have been nearly 30,000 some feet. We play a game of tennis that has nothing to do with a game of tennis as the sunrise circles us in blues and gold.

-Biffs got his own restaurant and he's just as obnoxious as ever, and well, i kinda seem to be stuck here for the time being. It seems as if i must wait for a proper combination of something or another to occur before i am able to be released from the purgatory of biffs kitchen. And yes, i do mean biff from back to the future. I sit on a stool, not so different from the one that he gave mcfly such shit on that fateful day back in 1955. My point is to try to make as much noise as possible, try and do anything i can to make biff go insane, and release me from his grip. I recall screaming and simultaneously pounding the napkin holder on the counter until i lose sight of the diner and awake into a forest upon snow covered trails. Now hiking up into a mountain. I hike up a ways until i find a cave near a frozen waterfall. A large buck comes up to me and snorts and runs off. I walk around up above the cave and sit down in the snow looking into the woods. Real quite here, like to hear the snowfall. A white wolf looking animal crosses down below where i was just standing watching the buck. I go further up a trail above the cave and find it blocked by a large snow drift. Another man comes to stand with me and we are deciding together whether to try and cross or go around. I figure it maybe to go around because the drift is so large, but the fellow decides to press on through. He gets near the top and slowly sinks down into the middle as if it were quicksand. I flash up their aside him to taste his doom, but am able to pull him out for a cure. We slide back down to the bottom and a small, I assume for some reason, Ecuadorian little child comes up to me and asks me to make him a copy of the tape we are listening to. I honestly had no idea of such a soundtrack, but the kid runs around the drift to produce a boombox and pulls out a tape, he shakes it at me, and then runs back off with it. I felt like i understood a different take on things, like that world was all being played like a mix tape er something. strangest things

-Zippin around the country of northern most america. All the roads here are pretty vertical. Im flyin over the mountains in canada to land in some sorta chicago, trying to find where it is i am supposed to be wanting to be wanting to be. I find a high school crush laying on abed in the middle of the city and sit down for a minute to find out if its real or fake. Eventually decided that it is a farce and head deeper into the city to find a proper living hole. Now the mountains come to chicago as i wait around questioning my questionings and watch them as they fall apart. I can feel the apocalypse rising again as the sky turns purple and the buildings all rise and fall and rise and fall like accordions. I call new friends old friends on my non-tangible telephone and cut to the other line thats beeping in to find the old friends anew, folks like mick and beth and other canton kids send me displays of their memories of me when i was not around. I cut over to a large city park filled with giant statues of nonexistent saints existing in their place. There is a sort of inaugural rock concert taking place here as an image of george bush gets throwin into my view. I contemplate falling in love with him until i realize that were just to different and it could never work. I go back to my old mountain homes to find my real friends with beating hearts.

-Riding on roller coasters that cut along the bluffs of the pacific coast highway only to plunge into the sea. I sit on a sort of floating buoy and met the creators of the ride, we smoke cigarettes together and take about the good old days of roaming landscape coasters.