Kindergarten

Return to my own vomit like a dog
Rhymes and giggles muffle the dialogue
Carve my initials in a tree, I will never leave
Maybe one day I'll be royalty
Kingdom
Kindergarten
Born late
Will I graduate?

If you wish to find out more about this topic, please contact via telephone or hand-written letter (please include $30 for postage and the time I must take out of my day to think long and hard about your questions and formulate a logical response).

I had an idea once. Time travel. Not a new idea, I know, but I plan to use it to break (or change the value of) the traditional passing down of traditional information from one school grade to the next. When I think about it, it's a microchasm of what's to come as an adult. Oh, how I wish I could smash it all to pieces. How to pick teams, how to make fun of other kids proper, how to chicken fight, and most importantly but often forgotten, how to become one of the others. Very good.

Stemsruud utilized a large operational wall; an idea he stole from several Charles Bronson movies. Those movies, Stemsruude always claimed, showed how real operations were to be handled. He took the walls seriously, and would push the seven or so levers that controlled them hard and often, reaching for a glass of cheap orange soda in between heaves. Internal gears would climb on each other with ratcheting clamor that pleased the soul. On the hidden side, various photos, diagrams and maps were available. The objects were well lit and contained key information that would never be used properly. Miguel knew that and laughed to himself most days. He got sick of watching his employer sit cross-legged in his button-down shirt and lack of pants as he smoked a pipe filled with (probably) exotic tobaccos and tried hard to appear that he was pondering well-laid plans while he moved his eyes deliberately across the screen. The home that became an emotional prison for both of them was also a stylistic prism, not coincidentally. The thick, shaggy sienna carpet and brick interior wall said 1978 while the stainless steel plant trellis that hung 20 feet in the air said 1998. The combination lead Berger to crave more attention, not realizing that he gave Miguel no new lessons for the montage.

“You see this, you see what I’m doing? I’m planning complex plans and means by which I might accomplish things. Take note.”

“Mr. Berger mapped out a key route on the map that overlayed Siberia and smoked his pipe thoughtfully. He circled several pictures of key figures and organized a chart showing his several options for how he might approach and eventually befriend…”

“Apprehend! With aggression!” Berger interrupted.

“Yes, apprehend with aggression.”

Several shots with the new camera made the moment timeless.

“This scene will be set to Heart’s “Barracuda.” “

“No, no, I’d like something, a bit more… cherishable.”

“This scene will be set to The Moody Blues’ “Nights in White Satin.”

“There you got it. Now you’re makin’ sauce Miguel. Now I’m gonna make it.”

Berger said this slightly under his breath and wrung is hands. He pointed to a point on the coast of Northern Asia as if it meant something as he picked up an old newspaper with cat piss on it and tucked it into his backpack. He wanted to be ready for something. Miguel was disgusted, but at $3000 dollars a week, free Tae Kwan Do classes at the YMCA, and a contractually granted, “freedom of belief,” he couldn’t complain. He chose not to believe in any of this.

"No, no Creeping Death."

Infinite dream tendrils - here to go planet R101

Last post: Nov. 9th. Two kids played with makeshift swords in the waning fall sunlight atop a stockpile of concrete and other fill materials. Nobody was injured. Today: shopping sprees will continue on into the night with sweaty foreheads and sub-standard motives and morals. I sweat under and on the palms and behind the knees. I just received word from Baxter Jesus in my inbox regarding Sophia. The message will be disregarded. Now, as for being a leader in commerce, if I was one, I'll tell you what I'd do, knowing that you're interested. As stores continue to open earlier and earlier on the day after Thanksgiving, there's only one thing to do, really. I'd swing the doors open at 7 am on Thanksgiving day (right in the face of that pushy guy witht the tight sweatpants at the front of the line). It doesn't take some sort of business genius to know that if you offer up the best raw deals in the area (your choice of appliance for $4, free gallon of whole milk with any purchase over $2, hot sandwich upon entry, box of broken dreams, additional life coaching when you buy any item containing slots of any sort...) people will swarm without regard to sacrifice of any sort of family obligations. This phenomena is best illustrated in cases of murderous spouses and our nation's military history. People don't care that it's a holiday, in fact, most people dread the Thanksgiving day family mixings, only made slightly less dreadful by the anticipation of the quick-fix feeling of complete satisfaction the following day made possible by long lines and $10 DVD players with the purchase of the "Hooker Fantasy Package (by Mattel)." But I digress and maybe transgress... the bottom line is that I have a good sense for the penny, but have nothing but a cold heart for family gathering and the ensuing love and warmth that I may receive if I was better. For what it's worth BORT, your X-mas gift has already been selected. Sorry if it may in fact be detrimental to you, but, as they also say, it may make you stronger (you will also receive a hug from me).

Now let's proceed to part two - there are no rules! That's right, everything I just said about my new ideas should be taken with a grain of salt, because my overall approach to my ideas is that I shouldn't follow them, lest I choose to be one step closer to the depths of hell's gate.

Right now I'm also working on some sort of generation program (in A) to follow up my previous list of important steps that you may or may not have adhered to. The delay is immense, but so will be the reward. I already have a word generator and here are some of the words that have yet to be defined:

Meledy
Asmarnats
Spistcuc
Blonsed
Coffelad
Pabled
Sectes

... to provide a few. I have a feeling that the linguists will be on me like burning tar about the alpah-arrangement of these words, but we all have our own way of bleeding internally do we not? ... my, "random phrase generation" program at work.

Assault (continued from page 5)

I have to stop this. It has driven me to the edge of insanity, and is anxious to push drive me over. While you're at home, unlocking the secret to success, I've been right here, slowly damaging the lock leading to a wealth of dangerous information. It's been weird, but I try to remain real.

As an example your life, I'm sure you've heard about the new date rape toy called "bindies." Some say it's about time this toy was introduced. Others say teaching kids the lazy ways of sex is just another poorly detailed plan by liberals to get a head start on sex-ed programs. I don't mean to minimize the dangers, but let's just say that in my day we had plenty of dangerous toys: petroleum squeeze ball, can of petro-slime, and oily lick pop - heavy on the volatile organics, I know. And really, the last item was simply input to keep improve my list; the first to items did exist and I did own them. But at that time, they were just toys to us, not oral stimulants. Now kids want to eat everything, perhaps due to the abundance of growth hormones in food which may cause children to have a vast appetite (for destruction as it turns out).

Now an example of what's been occurring here: a vast network is being constructed in the inner lobes, just between the star synapse and the guttural reflex sleeve. It physically hurts, and is confusing. Progress has been made, but form is lacking. And that was all fine until today, when I learned that the Brits have developed invisibility, something I had been working feverishly on for several years. Subsequently, I found out that General Jameson had discovered it years prior, but was believed to be a fool. I can only say that I was on the brink, and after you read the article about the Brits, you'll realize that they've only achieved pseudo invisibility, or a superior camouflage. What I was about to achieve was true invisibility, and now (unfortunately) I'm forced to release my project, so my efforts on not later deemed patent infringment. Please look:

The Moorland Road Project

The Principles of Economy

"While I'm no servant to my own self-apology I would be much obliged if you would pick up your pen and cassette tape recorder. Recall that you were hired to transform my typical daily happenings into a beautiful and elegant montage of a revelatory nature with an added segment including intense emotional music and powerful still-frame photos. Just keep that in mind." Indeed Miguel "Merchy" Mossod had been brought on board an admittedly sinking ship in order to bring some peace to the mind of the Honorary (and recently knighted) Berger Stemsruud - the neo-eccentric social android and global patriarchal figure who is credited with the phrase, "Here it is, your moment of Zen," commonly heard on the currently popular John Stewart Show. The biggest challenge for Miguel, discovered in an ironic cup of morning tea, was that Mr. S really was a servant to his own conscience. He was overly determined to make a dynamic appearance of himself; to show his revolutionary and culturally significant sub-conscience to the outside world. He wanted to show the world that he was a face-melting lava flow, devouring the outdated with burning wind and pyro-clastic destruction and creating a standard and fertile base for the new. He was so hung up on doing this, in fact, that he thought about this endlessly, and became a fixed machine within his white-stone palace, which was neatly nestled between a chocolate factory and a lettuce farm - places which kept him calorified, but not emotionally capable of dealing with the manufacturing of his soon to be released soul album. The "soul album," of course, was what he planned to call this whole fuckin' thing once it was completed to his satisfaction. He sat in his comfortable looking pillow chair all day in his knee-high socks and penny-loafers, shaking his head and swearing; sometimes under his breath, sometimes outloud into the breeze from the air-handling units. Miguel, with his down time, was developing a system to call his own..."

And so a saga, of sorts begins. Not that which I just mentioned, but a long and arduous process of starting anew on my part. Just a hint: I watched Mazes and Monsters while listening to iDoser and Burroughs lectures. As a sidenote, several searches for "the dangers of iDoser," have brought internet users to this site. More on all of this later.

Criterion Revisisted (Solid State)

Now my conscious is finally clean again. We move on. Little work has been completed, yet small portions of potions of a project are projecting elements (digitally). I keep a tidy home and clean my flesh often, but neglect (well, forget, innocently), to wipe my mouth and inner ears. A crust develops, but, upon your review, we'll see, god-willing, that this has a neglible effect:

October Harvest/November Rain