Exhausted, expanded. A steady hiss coming from space. Then several boy-men in a car-- maybe they were travelling with him?-- flipped me off. An Anglican missionary may have made his way into Bolivia, but meaning no harm. No, not bros, hillbillies or hillbilly hipsters. Not looking to make a name for themselves. I'd say strength in numbers.

Do you think it's going to work for me?

Everyone's job is important; we all mind, in different ways.



From Andi

The lady who doesn't wear shoes-- remember her? A sometimes fixture. in a good way. Sweeping away the time. Curious to see how it goes.



Popped by the grease, having questioned small things-- ethics, facts, writing-- she admitted to jumbling together several different days. "But, that doesn't change what I was saying." So, clarify who's responding. Back and forth. Just the skin.



What's the difference between a bad rap and a bad rep?
Read the first paragraph of the Wikipedia, and you'll be fine.




I’ve never been to a ballet, but this is what we do it for: to be at the beck and call of pop history. A copper statue calculates the loss. Dime-sized antennae respond to technical difficulties. A hometown thinks of watching golf, if you can call it golf. A road encounters Wednesday: a lot of building, all from farms. In local terms, I wish I’d known.


Laymen engage in a lot of faking. Can’t you just succeed on your own honestly?
Look at the ocean: it’s flat. You are rich, you are rerouting, you could have slept a couple of hours more.
Many great risks were taken, and these people don’t even stop for death.



A long winter in Hawaii. A rude re-awakening. More of a thing you weren’t heavily anxious about. Just conditions. Another road. Not great, nor new, nor favorited.



Oligarch love, you’re my portal into comeuppance.



It’s hard, hearing from you or from someone else, “Is he feeding them into some John Ashbery app?” Me? Yes, you. What time is it there? Did you move a book? If you were here, I could adjust the share price or deduct a slim volume from the dividend. I checked! I don’t know if it’s on Netflix, but, if I write it or think it, then it counts. And, it doesn’t make sense to weight down the pop-up book, or to beat your share with a maul. No, I don’t have 2%, and I’m not going to the reception.


Why would he kill you? There is no other half. 

Get me a nightgown or something to fall from. I will leave my blood out in the wilderness.


Now, I’ll want us to live on an airplane, so throw me the dongle.
My team, sweating, does as you like or what is right.
Sure, it all licks away the water… and, oh, now my urban keyboard floats out under their boardwalk….


A psychiatrist feeds on movies and organic buttermilk. He faults the sky for all our fallen hikers. Enough. Or, is it enough that there is nothing natural over you? No way to go, or sing, or swim.



In central Europe, some people wanted to consult Mario Bava about parades and proms. Not available online, he always is here, close to the quarry, smoking, amenable to talk and listen: “Where are you putting this dressing gown? Oh, yes, at anytime I will deny the noise, the red alert, because of her drinking. And you-- why are you listening to her? Is it all just an opportunity to discuss flowers and fur?”

Bava reseats himself, going where he wants to go by a boat in the road. The stupid, tranquilized by what they have seen, go away heavy and still scared.