Reality Lights Up With Writing

Believe me. I know what I’m doing. I’m taking shots in the dark. The bullets are words. They go rat-a-tat-tat. They go bonga bonga bonga. They go bananas. They sit and do nothing. Like batteries. They must be inserted into the mind. The mind draws their energy and they go wild. They go myriad and sing like a choir. They stall in the air and go still and stalwart. I'm irritated by an unprecedented heat parallel. The strain of Monday. Monstrosity regret pulled towards a fireworks display. Unhindered, our glasses prove nothing. Sculpt and fill the walls by opening yourself. We bend radically, and the disturbances increase our treasure. The strain fits our example and my sip. When needs impose on me, I zoom in on life. What weight of goldfish causes your valiant stars to imitate a dusty old town by Rembrandt? Oblivion rips my deepening awareness that a steadiness needs for fabrication but a listening needs for guiding a chisel. Soften the taxi with a little dextrose. Grab a bottle. Empty it. A fork shines a light above the sneer. Whenever I awaken above a distress there’s a lever, a can of paint, and a lingering sense of tinsel. A succubus sits on a tire in a swamp. It would light the sky if I threw a grenade. But I'm not here to cloud the issue. There is so much we need to understand. Everything. Except eating. know how to eat. I do it all the time. My favorite dish is word salad. Reality lights up with writing. The cutlery is warm. Ecstasies excite the quantum beauty card. The glass is so pure everyone wants to jump into it and drink it all down. But there’s nothing in it. The glass is empty. Until the imagination fills it with something. Orange juice. Tequila. Drambuie. Anisette. Sambuca. Words do nothing until fins appear and darkness and the abyss. To satiate the unbalanced man we can make another mess. But what will this accomplish? A bushy vertebral hill, a black on white belying a soft underlying gray, and a larger understanding of ivy. Throw the clay at what perception arouses. The sphere box has a crack in our room. Never waste a wild resilience. It gives life to a horn and pulse to a precipice. I seriously worry about what is gentle for a cat. If you play Bach I will extrude a knee exactly like this consonant, and swing it back and forth. Last night in Massachusetts a new awareness overtook my consciousness and turned it into Seekonk. This is why the Higgs boson is important. I went fly fishing in the Harvard business department and caught a rare puffer fish in the tide pool area. It felt hot like a chimera. How do we know that mass is energy? Because things come out of the mist and the pain is exquisite. Nobody wants to be embodied in anybody. It's not about the swamp and its eccentricities it's about creating a big round love and letting it walk around. We can discuss this later, after the drinks arrive. It’s enough that I have a home in your mind. Please don’t kick me out. This is why we write books. Those of us still writing books. We write to put chaos in a cage of letters. Though some insist they write to raise chaos. And ride it to the ends of the earth.