[Response to: I miss apostrophes and commas...]
…and swallow. and surges…
[Response to SHADOWS, BEEP BOOP BOOP BOOP]
I miss apostrophes and commas and accents LOOK!
to your left which is like sinistra how
cute which is like cut how syntactically synthesized how here
we are again Ta-da.
…SHADOWS, BEEP BOOP BOOP BOOP…
[Response to: Sometimes I wish for Steve]
One could not wish for Steve, you must dream of Steve. For Steve is not a person, he is the on going ever all stuck in the ass prison, the hexagon bars of time. Steve in the summer was a free wheeling bird, and as bird his wings were extensions of his horned rim hair brush that held the powers of Old Crow kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey, the most affordable for one of Steve’s nature.
Steve ventured on a beach, but since everything for him was the opposite, as it is for us, all he saw was snow and frozen water, and lobsters with wings, and birds with gills, and time moving ever so slowly. slow, slow slowed down, like cheetah in his world. He had never seen one but had often grown fond of them from watching animal planet videos on his IPad2, which was essentially the bong of knowledge that he carried around with him.
Steve saw everything in deep hypnotic waves. Colors that gyrated towards him from the frozen ocean. glowing spirals constantly washing over him. He dreamed of expression, and wondered if there was a creature that could guide him on his journey. One to be reborn, in a world where the beach was a significant possibility to him. Did steve imagine the creature, or was it the creatures job to come find him?
… / / …
[Response to ONE DAY, AT 4:36PM...]
Sometimes I wish for Steve. A day is a day in the sense that Steve is. Here I would like to speak: / / / Come on.
I think yellow blue a wheat field on a picture of scania. I think a rosary prayer and prayer and prayer in the throat. And surges and swallow and back / barriers can lie before fertilization. Brake pads. Break pads. Everlasting omen of what is [I permit you my fields].
Sometimes a day is just a day. Sometimes a night is a day.
This night belongs to your velvet. I am always a fan of lace. Histories, I mean. I will sew you a world. I will sew you a word. I will sew you a world of words. Mmm / / / / See
where the sky cracks open.
There is a mirror in the sky. When [the] silence ends [the] word begins. Name divine. Age twenty-five in the Bastille on a Thursday. Well
come [to the revolution]. Fluttering in a yellow bush. The color of
sun in summer. Stevian sonatas.
…GAUNTLET, IM RDY…
[Response to: bzzzzz: Radio...]
Soda Pop, POP, POP
Female, Femininity, Feminism
Scratched out records, PIXIES
Dropped Drop, Click Brown
Fallen Out, Falling 10 stories down through a glass window, OH MY OH MY OH MY OH MY OH DAD
Cracked out, take a hit, want to flip, flip, flip
Free Willy, Home Alone
Role Models, Lost World
burned in the brain, to the membrane, gone insane, take a train, fly a plan
Master Chief be Insane, the horror the horror the horror OH sister
Flat Line, Flat Spine, Crushed
————–<———————–
o=;'pppp
…TUNAFISH…
[Response to: From time to time...]
bzzzzz: Radio Aruba, Jamaica ooo I wanna take ya Bermuda, Bahama come on pretty mama Key Largo
Shelly’s beach adventures were manifesting into the dreams of hermit crabs. The unbearable heat stroke she had acquired on a day to day basis had slowly transformed her brain, or perhaps it was the peyote that she had sprinkled in her coffee that fateful october morning.
Shelly sweltered out on the beach, until her body mutated into a beached manatee. Lucky for her the tide came in 17 minutes and 34 seconds later.
The feeling of being brought back to the water, reminded Shelly of birth, or what her imagination of birth could conjure up through her peyote heat stroke infused manatee mind. Shelly was always more of a worker bee. She wondered if being a manatee would bring further insanity, for what is a life floating in water all day.
If she had only purchased that Ipod nano 3 years earlier then she would at least be able to float around to music, but alas, it was not in the cards.
BLUE
…ONE DAY, AT 4:36PM…
[Response to: One day while gazing at moonbushes...]
01/05/1978
From time to time I find my thoughts drifting to that moment in the waiting room where I sparked a conversation with a peculiar man in a plaid shirt.
His name was Steve and he flew crop dusting planes for a living. Steve was an admirer of fonts on sex cam websites. Once upon a time Steve was in college and working on his thesis based strictly on how fonts on pornographic websites were specifically designed to arouse men, and if the font was extraordinarily successful could lead to the spending of 2-4 cents per character.
I found this amusing due to my interest in subliminal advertising, although I truly though that Steve was a madman. I wondered if my attraction to Steve was increased due to his insanity, it certainly made him a more compelling individual.
Steve was one of those men that would share the meaning of life with you because you decided to give him the time of day. That day, I gave that time. You have to wonder if Steve self recognizes this quality, perhaps he knew that I needed someone to show me the path that day.
Steve, “There is a cornfield in Martinsdale, Montana. Inside the field you will find a single Ponderosa Pine Tree. Place your ear to the side of the tree, take a deep breath, and the Pine Tree will take a breath in response. As you exhale the Ponderosa will share a secret with you.”
I wanted to ask Steve what the Ponderosa has told him, yet at that exact moment Steve was called into the Otolaryngologist office. Steve peered over me while rising from his seat. At that moment he saw right through me. He read my mind.
Steve came up and whispered in my ear, “If “Big Ass” is at 36 fonts it increases the chance that a teenage male will spend money on a pornographic website by 38X”
That was the last time I saw Steve.
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