Fuck the French

The Death of The Salesmen

Radio is a sad sensation

Can't help but wonder of the existence of aliens good and bad and normal.

Wiseau,
Plato,
Colgate Radio Spot Personality,
I could go on forever baby.

And I will
as will you

Make sure if you reach forever you buy low

Gift Givers sleep in Drawers

Lehcaresor Papier Poudre

and in the morning hours she dusted her face before brunch.
he put on his fanciest knickers 
rolled up designer sleeves and check his beard for authenticity again
she put away her Papier Poudre 
and fastened shiny buckles 
it was time to spend their hard earned money
wisely
wisely
wisely 
Did they forget anything?

Observations from an F-Train: Entry 0.01

DESCRIPTION OF A BENCH SEAT ON AN F-TRAIN AT A GIVEN POINT IN TIME.
NYC - SEPT - 2012

From left to right:
1. Black Man Chillin' (big guy, bald shiny head, fancy hat)
2. Hispanic Woman Crocheting (knitting super fast with worn hands)
3. Asian Woman Studying Math (mulling over a Uniqlo receipt, checking for mathematical flaws)
4. White Dude Contriving Cool (reading Carnivores Dilema while listening to headphones)


Stereotypes...
are my bag baby...
observational grab bag.

Frogman's Layer

Frogman raced Blogger down the spiral get down

Town to...night beat root boiled bland sustenance

Kept us alive

And well traced, faced raced, a cyst Ed's

timetables for Wheaties dunks and scored in the form of

Dough nuts came thoughtless and provoked one day

…mind revoked

Driver’s I.D. card stock of less thickness please

And thank you while the throng embarrassed judgment

Day – in - and - day – out – and - over  -

ruled the room where tears formed streams!

and catamarans sailed, offering great vascular knowledge!

of roar splash and go, but toss your plastic beneath detritus’ pomp!

and the Circumstance’s often

awful

offer

obliterated All on July Farce,

2001 was still young

when computer-aided-Froggers shot awesome fog at Bloggers killing them on spot

On regression of our placed Gideon’s Bible in travel destinations

Elysium dies in a big way.

Out of the whey-soaked flesh knickers we crossed burgeoning open grassland in

And out of the burger rolls we then jelly-rolled tastelessly over salted lips

We Foal.

Bird Fool

Fowled Me.

And swallowed the key.

Gastro-Surgical Horrors that followed 

me down to Frogman's layer

breathing the cold dust

tossing the salads for the breaking of the bread

proverbially smoking on the hill

View in re-perceived-re-animated-reruns

Running all night long 

until the dream be told 

in the daylight hours of our moments bliss interruption erruption