Sunday, January 08, 2006




There's nothing wrong with me, I'd like to say. Not a thing. The show has been cancelled and manuevers take things way out of proportion, but there' snothing a hundred dollar bottle of glue won't fix. Dog gone. The fat lies I told myself have finally become true. I am so excited to show you guys my skeches and the way a wound read ressses. A thousand mile stair?

Peppercorn has gone misfit all over my smokey burger hut. I could manipulate the miles and hard-to-believe I'm not there. I'm not. The facilitator's finger bent wide ways and multiple cane marks were seen at the Gomez Zemog. The flame begets honorific begets the flame.


I pulled muscular teeth out of my head and rad stuff made my weaknesses feel like great pardons from the President! Escape the Picasso, you might say.. Or, the Thomaso. Say the name. Exxhibit scalpel through skeleton and your primordial dog will bark. I told someone "I am just a membrane right now" And I meant it!

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