A flask for each of us, and yeah we smoked that whole bag of weed in a day. I bought it for twenty bucks.
I like my look to the sound of a french movie. My shirt disappears in the clutter on the floor. A guy walks by and becomes a peeping tom. My chest is burning red, a signal. My face is warm.
It would be just as hard to find a genuine criminal mind as it would be to find a mind like mine. I am a criminal with a heart.
I wonder if women feel remorse about posing nude. It would be terrible to watch your mother fall in love with someone besides your dad.
Zip-zap-suspicious of God's plan. I pray occasionally. What's a day anyway?
I hate reading formal writing. The reality of things is killer. Men don't like their women talkative. Femininity in the sexual sense is a very quiet thing or else it is not erotic.
Went to an alleged musician's house and there was a blonde boy on the drums. Met him later that night, and his breath smelled like rotting milk. Gave him blue balls. That's all I'll say about that.
She's a friend of the cops. Fat girl blocks my image from the view of a handsome man. waiting for me to acknowledge her.
Michael Cera is such a darling. I would like to marry him.
A man comes and sits next to me. I ignore it by continuing to write. It turned out to be a woman. Crank!
"Numbing Ourselves Thru Dis Terrible Time"
Twenty one, starving, sleepless, high above a lighter, gumshoes on fire, gumshoes burning, Joey is my fashion guru.
There's a cock drawn on the seat, with the words 'have a seat.' I sat down. Stephni's going to go meet Seafood. "Seafood?" says I, "No Sifu," she says, "he's a DJ." "Everybody's a DJ," said I, "A DJ for life," she said, "it is a very popular profession; methinks because it is easy to get BJs with."
I put a flower above my head, "everything is a hat."
"Everything is everything."
"Take off your pants!" I shout to the flamboyant singer of amazing grace. "Boating shoes, these are boating shoes," I lift my foot.
"More like Jesus boots," says Max, who I just met," those things will make you walk on water."
"OH sunny LIES! I will cut his face and make him equal to everyone else on earth," I used my eyes to indicate the handsome dancer.
"Meeting Satan on the Street Corner"
One moment I was spinning in a chair, and the next thing I know I'm writing words like shitmouth and pukenose. "She's writing words like shitmouth and pukenose in her journal," I heard Kathy say across the room.
Dinner with myself. Cold butter, bread, amber railroad, F. Scott Fitzgerald. Looking for a rebound. Ripe sex dreams every night.
You make sex noises in your sleep, Joliet, "it's hard to be holy when I feel so horny," says She-Joliet, once a child nun now spends her twenties searching for a mouth to pray into.
'if it is your will god that i should continue to dream so fashionably.'
And a man falls into the loving arms of a transvestite. I lost my watch i can't tell time.