Impulses Scurrying Through Synapses
1-8
Well, what's there to report or describe or make up or rhyme or butcher or philosophize or rationalize or fictionalize or non-fictionalize or otherwise kcuf up here today? Nothing really. Got up at 5:30 A, showered, had a bowl of Nutty Nuggets with the front page, then shimmied off to school. The truck's working well enough, though the battery still needs to be remounted--
The phone rings. Getoff tells of Steve's estranged wife's horniness in San Francisco on New Year's Eve. She wasn't wearing any underwear, he said, and in the cab, she told him to put it in her meow.
OK, so what the hell else? I think Shirelle's driving me nuts. But I'm not going to get into it. I still have to type for fifteen minutes, and I've got three letters to write and a phone call to make, some geee-tar to strum, some net to surf, some novel to read, and two more pages to write here before I can stop, and miles to go before I sleep. Got in my 30 minutes of physical exercise today! Man, am I out of shape. It's blizzarding in the East, the skyscrapers of Manhattan are lost behind a veil of some Creator's artistry, the machinations of D.C.'s politicking have ground to a frozen halt, and the peaches of Georgia will break teeth like biting a shotput; while here in California, the mercury shot through 90 in Anaheim, and we joked with Tom McCann who was visiting from Boston who cold it was. Brrr.
Dip rip bibidip baram dam ding dong I don't know how the hell I'm going to get to the bottom of the next page.
Seinfeld just came on. Maybe I can just copy their B.O. jokes here: "When somebody has B.O., the "O" usually stays with the "B". Why don't I turn down the volume.
Oh, crap. Evan should be calling soon. Then I can go get a bag that might send impulses scurrying through synapses.
Are more than one doofus doofusses or doofi? Ski diddly de we wah woo.
Tomorrow we're going to do some Diego Rivera watercolors.
Gip has an entire stack, a stack of she-male and transvestite movies. Every time I think that guy can't trip me out anymore, he does.
Cesar lies and lies and lies.
AHHHGHHH
GrBzzzt
KKKKsniKt
Vrbt
Dohhhh
Well, what's there to report or describe or make up or rhyme or butcher or philosophize or rationalize or fictionalize or non-fictionalize or otherwise kcuf up here today? Nothing really. Got up at 5:30 A, showered, had a bowl of Nutty Nuggets with the front page, then shimmied off to school. The truck's working well enough, though the battery still needs to be remounted--
The phone rings. Getoff tells of Steve's estranged wife's horniness in San Francisco on New Year's Eve. She wasn't wearing any underwear, he said, and in the cab, she told him to put it in her meow.
OK, so what the hell else? I think Shirelle's driving me nuts. But I'm not going to get into it. I still have to type for fifteen minutes, and I've got three letters to write and a phone call to make, some geee-tar to strum, some net to surf, some novel to read, and two more pages to write here before I can stop, and miles to go before I sleep. Got in my 30 minutes of physical exercise today! Man, am I out of shape. It's blizzarding in the East, the skyscrapers of Manhattan are lost behind a veil of some Creator's artistry, the machinations of D.C.'s politicking have ground to a frozen halt, and the peaches of Georgia will break teeth like biting a shotput; while here in California, the mercury shot through 90 in Anaheim, and we joked with Tom McCann who was visiting from Boston who cold it was. Brrr.
Dip rip bibidip baram dam ding dong I don't know how the hell I'm going to get to the bottom of the next page.
Seinfeld just came on. Maybe I can just copy their B.O. jokes here: "When somebody has B.O., the "O" usually stays with the "B". Why don't I turn down the volume.
Oh, crap. Evan should be calling soon. Then I can go get a bag that might send impulses scurrying through synapses.
Are more than one doofus doofusses or doofi? Ski diddly de we wah woo.
Tomorrow we're going to do some Diego Rivera watercolors.
Gip has an entire stack, a stack of she-male and transvestite movies. Every time I think that guy can't trip me out anymore, he does.
Cesar lies and lies and lies.
AHHHGHHH
GrBzzzt
KKKKsniKt
Vrbt
Dohhhh
posted by johnz at 9:10 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home