ok, so having done that, the rest of it swallowed a fish hook and stayed on the page in Word instead of being plastered onto this blog..as a mused bit of writing..slowly getting over the Hosseini stories of domestic and polical abuse...how rats like Rasheed can be allowed to exist in any world..anywhere
I guess they could be a story...could be a story...could be a story
writing as though I'd gotten a new sheet of Schubert..
I can't master any of that, but if I only had a routine...and then I'd worry along would come Prince Charming and integrate himself into it...don't miss the burly logger, enjoy the fact there's no pain..
well, just a tiny bug compared to all that I suppose
the other lady in the little gas station paying for something in a new car
she's had the same one for years..and it's been parked at his house for a while now
and now..while he tells me it's over and he's done, she's still there being large and in charge
and letting me hear her say that he wants her in Forks and she's going to get dinner..stuff to make dinner
so she's probably not hanging out with him, although he seems to think that is the case
according to what she says
according to that, and it was my observation one wouldn't bring an accordian to a prison..
asit would be inappropriate
but one could certainly bring an electric piano to my house
I should think..and that'd be the case as well..burp...my meaning
one doesn't bring up the fact one's dogs have been doing their business along the way to the post office
because the one has something going on that makes its feces kind of toxic, so that gets scraped up into neat little piles for the more purgative receptacle..
not my fun and games but it must be done..the one, the white one has injury somehow, never got over sitting on a dead mother...still trying to scratch that thought away
I do miss riding harleys in the mountains..and I guess 'he' thought that was fun...
a splendid memory
well..as I was saying 'she' has a big new car...I don't have my firewood...she's all about owning him...
and I don't know nothing because man, my rib hurts still...I could barely stand for him to touch me..is what
he smelled bad, the rolls of flesh at his lower belly where it meets the thigh..oh yeah and the roll of quarters syndrome about keep touching this to make sure it's really dead..
is how that goes..creepy
so why would I even bother/ it's all I've got at the moment and there are moments ofit that are pleasant
otherwise...not so...streetsweeper going by up the sideroad...brushing hog..cat up a pole instantaneously...as...bridie alights and sweftly swoops away..all along the boulevards of this little village..the gravel is being swept..I should take some turf from the fella scross the street, they ploughd it up a bit and make it roughly a taxiedermist's 'thaw'..whatever I mean by that..and there she isnow running it into the ground that she's in a new car and he didn't bring me firewood...
well..I'm not bitching, the christmas music is on..I need to call family and seewhat the plan is..really gobbling the garavel is that machine..we'll see if it gets clean..the christmas carol as we enter into the holiness of the season, when crhist was born...when we first learned to think about him..there's where I feel holy and the other part, that must be the north koreans bringing in the fishers..and then there's this guy at neah bay whom I'd much rather be with..but that'slike that sacred christmas carol..you'd have to marry the guy and you have a really stiff neck to v e thinking about that right now...yeah
I guess that's happened so this work thing is like a big can of sour tuna waiting to be drilled up for the cats..
there's some damon runyon on the side
gloria ...gloria.. angels we have heard on high..
with sons and daughters and cars and so on..
I doubt I really have lost my connection with Georgia and Lou Diamon..see there's the belligassi thing..
all shaped up with ringlets of golden feasted by the light.
well, it's like a jail yah, where I worked for such a long time and there was a guaranteed income then
not these reduced circumstances...oh perhaps I played itout like a cat on a wire..
fussing and fuming and writing up the stalinist accounts of the take over of kiev...you can't be from the Ukraine in these days...you just can't
youhave to be a cat..
so there's the coo
I guess they could be a story...could be a story...could be a story
writing as though I'd gotten a new sheet of Schubert..
I can't master any of that, but if I only had a routine...and then I'd worry along would come Prince Charming and integrate himself into it...don't miss the burly logger, enjoy the fact there's no pain..
well, just a tiny bug compared to all that I suppose
the other lady in the little gas station paying for something in a new car
she's had the same one for years..and it's been parked at his house for a while now
and now..while he tells me it's over and he's done, she's still there being large and in charge
and letting me hear her say that he wants her in Forks and she's going to get dinner..stuff to make dinner
so she's probably not hanging out with him, although he seems to think that is the case
according to what she says
according to that, and it was my observation one wouldn't bring an accordian to a prison..
asit would be inappropriate
but one could certainly bring an electric piano to my house
I should think..and that'd be the case as well..burp...my meaning
one doesn't bring up the fact one's dogs have been doing their business along the way to the post office
because the one has something going on that makes its feces kind of toxic, so that gets scraped up into neat little piles for the more purgative receptacle..
not my fun and games but it must be done..the one, the white one has injury somehow, never got over sitting on a dead mother...still trying to scratch that thought away
I do miss riding harleys in the mountains..and I guess 'he' thought that was fun...
a splendid memory
well..as I was saying 'she' has a big new car...I don't have my firewood...she's all about owning him...
and I don't know nothing because man, my rib hurts still...I could barely stand for him to touch me..is what
he smelled bad, the rolls of flesh at his lower belly where it meets the thigh..oh yeah and the roll of quarters syndrome about keep touching this to make sure it's really dead..
is how that goes..creepy
so why would I even bother/ it's all I've got at the moment and there are moments ofit that are pleasant
otherwise...not so...streetsweeper going by up the sideroad...brushing hog..cat up a pole instantaneously...as...bridie alights and sweftly swoops away..all along the boulevards of this little village..the gravel is being swept..I should take some turf from the fella scross the street, they ploughd it up a bit and make it roughly a taxiedermist's 'thaw'..whatever I mean by that..and there she isnow running it into the ground that she's in a new car and he didn't bring me firewood...
well..I'm not bitching, the christmas music is on..I need to call family and seewhat the plan is..really gobbling the garavel is that machine..we'll see if it gets clean..the christmas carol as we enter into the holiness of the season, when crhist was born...when we first learned to think about him..there's where I feel holy and the other part, that must be the north koreans bringing in the fishers..and then there's this guy at neah bay whom I'd much rather be with..but that'slike that sacred christmas carol..you'd have to marry the guy and you have a really stiff neck to v e thinking about that right now...yeah
I guess that's happened so this work thing is like a big can of sour tuna waiting to be drilled up for the cats..
there's some damon runyon on the side
gloria ...gloria.. angels we have heard on high..
with sons and daughters and cars and so on..
I doubt I really have lost my connection with Georgia and Lou Diamon..see there's the belligassi thing..
all shaped up with ringlets of golden feasted by the light.
well, it's like a jail yah, where I worked for such a long time and there was a guaranteed income then
not these reduced circumstances...oh perhaps I played itout like a cat on a wire..
fussing and fuming and writing up the stalinist accounts of the take over of kiev...you can't be from the Ukraine in these days...you just can't
youhave to be a cat..
so there's the coo
