***
***
余やそなたら,買いは入らない
このうちはびんぼうなものなんだ
***
Been told in a dream I could get my man killed just by wanting him, by loving him, by wanting to see him before I die, so no begging today...
***
Fucked-up mole (smells tangier than it is; about to be strained; added some blueberries, honey this go-round -- just ate the dregs 0929 PT, and if I may say so: BEEYOTCH, IT IS DA SAUCE, TOO MUCH FOR SOME!):
(A scarecrow's portion -- Thanks, Krakowski, for the title of your latest mystery novel! -- goes to Walmart #02053 for fucking up kids in your employ, and for getting rid of the best people for the wrongiest reasons, for misusing your awesomest employees, and for forgetting that WE ALL KNOW YOU PEOPLE HAVE WALMEX TO THANK FOR THE FACT THAT YOUR UGLY, ANTEBELLUM ASSES ARE STILL IN BUSINESS! Salud!)
And if I don't get to see a certain Angela: Yes, I wanted to kill you in a reflexive instant, but thank the angels that never happened.... At a point, I was even proud of the fact that I should have stomped on you in the back of Protestant (!) church that one time, had it not been for God and the methylamphetamine I was on.... You would have been happy -- maybe? -- that not a conspiracy of hatred was doing you in.... Let's grow up, shall we? Both of us, I mean! Just keep your shoes off the bed, and your bag off the floor, and good will come to you -- life doesn't have to be hell... Besame mucho.
Anyway, the mole is sitting in my fridge as of pressing "PUBLISH," and I don't want it to break down any more! (Though I'm pretty sure it's settled and can be fridged for a week to a fortnight....)
No comments:
Post a Comment