Joy grew a person, a long ugly man. He was the person-piece of joy.
"I have broken this or that!" one shouts to joy's person and joy's person busies himself.
"I have thought this or that!" one shouts to joy's person and joy's person does not lean in to ask.
"I am in mourning!" one cries to joy's person, one's sides shaking, one's eyes broken open, and joy's person turns away, toward another.
Joy grew a person, the long ugly man.

Emotional Behaviors

Oh, be be be quiet! Be be be be be be quiet! Your loudness is out of control!
Oh! Be quiet! Be be be be quiet.

When inside, I have not so much light, only a long crack in a rear board and small short candle.

It is when I am outside I am overcome with lights!
They are breaking!
They are breaking on me!

Thanks, for you fuk you fuk you.

1. I'm trying to build up a few bulwarks, to round out the edges and then they will spill into the middle part in the last half of the month. Maybe connect them so a bunch of bullshit is not splashed together. Bulwarks, see? Bulwarks, I don't know if that's the right word, but it's how I think about it.
3. Like a chunk of things, some kind of wall or rampart — Little fighting islands with lots of little men surround the big flat spaces with few men whose weak weapons cannot get into the little fighting islands, and so when it sends out lots of little men, they might win or be victorious.
2. I want to corral off the space into which I can pour a bunch of these men.
1. Put the ramparts almost close, on an island. Little shells. With angles as turtles, maybe, with holes for the lots of little men.
3. Where is the first level? Does it have turrets? Or is it a translation of these, through a computer, scanned but not very accurate, reproduced with very thin things and strong metals painted flat in a way. These metals, the ones in this scenario, these are not reflective though maybe yours might be. These metals are not but that's not crucial to the operation of ramparts.
2. Yes, sure, yes.
1. It's possible that these might be more effective if they are located properly relative to the sun so that the sun might reflect off the reflective metal, but mine, these metals, mine are again not placed in these type of spots.
2. However, these reflections would be of no use during the night when these ramparts and turrets might need to operate. You cannot rely on the sun, or if you rely on it, you can only rely on it during the day, or only during a not cloudy type of day.
1. I feel manipulated.
3. I'm sorry.
2. I feel manipulated into arguing for your shiny or reflective bulwarks.
1. I'm sorry.
2. It wouldn't hurt you in the night or cloudy days to have a reflective form, you know. Reflective of clouds maybe is like camouflage against the sky, but even if it isn't, on those days when it is very very helpful, perhaps these days are the days when you make the decisive move.
3. You are thinking like: "Ow! My eyes are being reflected the sun!" then lots of little men everywhere.
2. You have made a compelling argument very much against your will for the inclusion of shiny pieces. But this makes me curious. What is the reason for yours dullness, is it an absorbing finish?
1. I don't know. I don't think so. It doesn't really have many advantages, but it just isn't shiny.
3. Possibly stealth? To avoid the glimmering of destination while your enemies peer into the horizontal edge? A camouflage of non-luminescence?
2. This is possible but they are boxy things, not very naturally shaped. They are also not mobile. I can build up new ones, of course, in different places and change where supposedly the horizontal edge is.
1. Remember, these will outline the field and where the edge is is the important part of the bulwark itself. The old bulwarks will then no longer be bulwarks but sort of shitty hills.
3. I can get behind that.

What wil you do when you find this secret army?... Something bad. Is that all the music? I don't want to hear this stuff...

This report just in from Fresno,
California. Naval sonar specialists
who were flown to the site...

You won't think I'm crazy next month.
People are going to start dying. At
first the papers will say it's some
weird fever, some virus. Then they'll
begin to catch on. They'll get it.

Just a joke.

"And the wild beasts of the islands
shall cry in their desolate houses and
dragons in their pleasant palaces: and
her time is near to come, and her days
shall not be prolonged."

When I was a kid I identified with that
kid, down there alone in that pipe...a
hundred feet down -- doesn't know if
they're going to save him.

Listen, you dumb fuck! The thing mutates
We live underground! The world belongs
to the fucking dogs and cats. We're
like moles or worms. All we want to do
is study the original...

Meanwhile in Fresno, where mining
engineers continue their desperate
attempt to sink a shaft parallel to the
ant in which nine year old...

-- an hour ago have been unable to
determine the location of the boy in the
150 foot shaft...but a TV sound man who
lowered an ultra-sensitive microphone into
the narrow tube claims he heard breathing
sounds coming from approximately seventy
feet down...

The boy was playing ball with four
other children when he literally
disappeared off the face of the earth.

Nevermind. It's not real -- it's a
hoax. A prank. He's hiding in a barn.
Hey, turn left here. Left!

Hey. Fuck you. I'm with the Moon

I.

Hey, fuck you. I'm with the Moon. You think you know craters? We know craters, me and the moon. We make craters. Of you, in your hometown. Fucking with the moon, you can't fuck with the moon! We're, that is me and the moon, we're frozen forever. Immutable.

II.

The moon is just the good part of the earth that took a chance and escaped. Can't fuck with that, can't fuck with the moon. Moon looking down, God's empty craterous eyeball. You got a big eyeball, like me and the moon? You're jealous, our perspectives is infinite. My god has unlivable eyeballs and they get seared by the sun so hot and cooled by the cold so cold. It's the moon, sucker. The Moon.

III.

Moon future. In the future, we might go to the moon and set up a base, but no, big fucking hole where you bombed us. Not that there isn't other room, but you can't come on our moon, so unfriendly. Greatest thing you ever did, come to me and my moon. Just my moon. No more.

IV.

Moons only, that means me and the moon. No suckers, no mad bombers, me and the moon and moon water and moon food and moon ice cream. Alone in a rusty can on West Moon, nobody, nobody can visit me but I walk outside, I visit myself and the moon visits back. Visit back moon, visit me back, I visit you and bring gifts of stuff, you bring gifts of yourself, the moon.

V.

It's indecent is what it is, fucking with the moon. It's not proper, not ever. Think about it, who ever thought to fuck with the moon? Not fucking with moons is primary to all good behavior, because the moon is your tether, the weight holding down your field of vision. You can walk for a long way, and sit up and wonder if you're still attached to the earth that bore you, doesn't matter if there's a moon. The moon sucks you outside the atmosphere, look it was inevitable, it happened, inevitably. That's powerful. That's unfuckable.

VI.

I don't need to stay here, I have dreams that the moon gave me, not earth, not even just space, because the moon gave me space too. My dreams occupy vast tracts of moonland, climbing moonhills and being without oxygen for the first time. Can't dream that on earth: no moonhill, too much oxygen. In the future, there will only be moons. And there will only be moon people. So get right, stop fucking with the moon.

VII.

Moon is best. Moon loves and I love the moon. Moon in night and future, Moon forever. Moon backwards. Moon, black and sandy. Hot and white.

I am functionally illiterate. I am functioning today, just like I function yesterday, don't worry about me. I'm strong, got strength. I'm strong, getting more strength. I get my strength from carrying this cart around, this big wide banana cart with big bunches of green bananas, not yet ripe, not forced open and inorganic. Yellow is ethyline gas seeping through the scarred-soft insides of bananas, mine is green, not full of gas.

Too bad about your jobs. You got jobs in the city, where you sit inside and speak gibberish and make mistakes all the time. I don't have such mistakes; I have bananas, they are good or they are not. I just gotta keep my eyes on em and I see my job unfold. Like a plantain, unfolded flat.

You gotta eat the outsides! I sell you bananas by the pound, yes, on this rinky-dink scale I measure out your bananas and you tell me you throw away the heavy parts. You ever weigh banana meat? So undense. So light. Lightness is it's trait in milk in cereal and sure, valuable. But heaviness in soups and breads, heaviness in temperament, in potassium. Heaviness, oh, weigh me down by bananas and I might sleep all day.

Break a banana with me. Better than bread, slide it open and we'll see. Lay them flat on the berm. Line them, swab them. We sit on boats and stare, shake up and down and stare at water, breaking bananas. We grin, on our boat, and stare.

this seems about appropriate:

http://www.esquilax.com/flag/flagburn.shtml

Awesome.

My personal favorite.

There's a place for everything now.

Got a New Blog

I started a blog for my trip, etc. See it. Believe it.

waaaazzzzzzzzaaaaaap