S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y, night.

Journal Entry:

Last weeknd I was looking out my window from the top floor, it was early evening, and i watched two girls climb out from the basement of a squat adajacent to the empty lot across the street. They wriggled out and crouched behind a pile of old wood and pipes. Two girls sat on the wood and chain smoked, while one girl crouched and pulled her pants down and peed while they all smoked and talked. The girl peeing wore a black and red plaid skirt with a black hoodie and her hair crazy coloured blood red. Her ass was facing me, and it was whiter than any white i had ever seen. She balanced there peeing and smoking at the same time while talking to her friends. She looked around for something to wipe with, and seeing nothing, used the front of her shirt. She stood up, yawned, and then blew her nose on the shirt as well.
I was cracking up. Rancid was playing at CBGB's around the corner, and the troops were out if full force. Two guys, one with a military mohawk, and another in a GBH tshirt crossed the street in front of my building. The one in the GBH tshirt slowed down, leaned on a construction cone to steady himself, and vomited in the middle of the street.
All of this happened within 3 minutes.
Last week a carfull of kids who were drunk and stupid sat out in front of my building for an hour, screaming. A huge group of them came piling out of The Bowery Poetry Club twirling and screeching and dancing around like some loser teenagers at a gayass Rocky Horror Show matinee. I got so pissed off that i went on the roof and and threw a rock down on top of their van. It made a loud KACHUNK as it hit. I went back downstairs to my apartment and listened to them scream some more. I got so mad I went back to the roof and threw three big rocks in rapid succession. Each one sounded like thunder as it hit the car roof.
When I went back to my apartment and looked out the window they had left.
Fucking assholes.

Fuck you, Sky Bastards.

This picture was from the first time in another myth. The hero Gilgamesh really took some heavy hits. I was permitted to travel up to his abode. There he was filming some TV show over at the tower, and described according to the book, the twelfth monkey. He dropped in the loop, shrieked, the earth boomed; daylight failed shenanigans going on. He slammed and broke his pelvis. Clouds swelled, it rained death. Then the glow by his eye, and was knocked unconscious. His rocket caused so much smoke and ashes he'd be out a long time.

Just a couple months after, if extraterrestrials came after the people, he could ride his mega ramp. He could travel back and forth doing twenty foot high tricks on an unknown planet. Think anyone who would start ancient myths, speak of such extensive injuries? He's truly one possibility. Why should earth be thrust into the level of fame if they had not visited us? If they were the same humble guy he's always been, perhaps they could have. I only wish, when I skate across out of time. Blue galactic nine times out of ten, he's just beginning. Bundle burning occurs at the dawn of rotten rigs throughout the entire session. Also the observation of the first. I pass him a brand new hawk ceremony. This event should occur by himself. He strokes alot of kids, and ideally an all night session after I ruin thier whole rite of purification.

He's smoking because he knew the gods. The gods fly in all vehicles called death wagons. Generations of kids ended up quitting. He rocks from which fire flies. The visiting gods developed an extreme fear of destruction and are waited on. Certainly the demons go on tour because he shakes hands with the gods first. The famous picture of him riding thier death wagon imply that the Sumerians werent just from the sky I had originally come to his house with airplane gods, also credited with teaching people leaving. He felt so bad about the story of the tower of Babel. In it, the people went down the street and rented a convertible, traditionally translated to mean "a name", in hope of driving before I had a chance to say anything. A name helps them keep from being separated. Get out of the car, ship, or aiplane, and the Sumer gods flew in, standing right next to me. I didnt even notice them. They build thier beginnings, thier death wagons, they build thier tower. We drove straight back nonstop. And now it is unlikely that the people could overcome themselves.

Skydiving would cure him. But perhaps they had the help of one, who came to the airport with a greek god who was punished for giving humans communication. He was convinced he could do it. The other gods were not happy, and went down at the last minute giving them different languages so they would jump in confusion. But with all the touring that he does, the gods are extraterrestrials, they definately would advance. Gulfstream unfurling mad chatter. Fuck you, sky bastards."

Talking To The Other Side

Another cutup:

Police investigators spent the third quarter weeks carrying bags of telepathy evolved from the temple. Cordons of evidence from the two story temple of the human body, reorganized the family home in the circle of heaven. This is the time of the late afternoon. Those with the discipline to pursue, ferried her dead sister. Now is the time of the richness of television. The daughter of 13:20 keys which have been given, was fathered by another man. The power of levitation, of the temple.. Away from the home that had become above and without. This is the exalted crime scene. When mother keeps still within, this breath is returned home. Last night the vessel of divinely endowed face was streaked with tears.
I lost my daughter forever, organized intention evolves the world.. My daughter isnt truthfullness. This is the meaning of Quetzacotl.

Outside the home, a clutch of regularly drawn gods with wings lay breached. Thier wings and candles flickered. Maybe the wings are simply ill memory. Her younger brother distinctly flew. There are also significant numbers. Spaceships seen in ancient pictures."

Cut Up: How Many Minutes, Anarctica?

Cut ups aint nothin new, made popular by William Burroughs and Brion Gysin. If youre writing and you get blocked, take whatever it is youre working on and cut it into four squares, and rearrange the squares. It should look like it makes no sense. If youre the creative type, or schizophrenic, it should make perfect sense. If not, keep at it.
Pick out lines that work for whatever youre using, edit to suit your needs. You dont have to limit it to your own writing, cut up anything you like. Mix it with yours, keep cutting and editing till your satisfied.
heres a cut up from a religious handbill and UFO page, I manipulated into a biblical evolution nightmare. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

"The individual who sinned, as one will not have the seal of God on thier foreheads and a female, lying with goats. Laying thier hands in torment for months, and thier torment was upon the animal. The sinner confessed his sin and in those days, men will seek death, and death with his own hand killed it. The priest caught some locusts like horses prepared battle, and on the blood in a small bowl applied some faces. The Faces of men. And they had hair like blood to each other. The altar of burnt teeth of lions. And they had breast plates like offerings, and carried the blood into the first room like the sound of chariots, of many horses rushing the sanctuary. And they sprinkled it seven times upon the stings, and in thier tails they had the power to torment the veil which separated the two worlds. In either, the angel of the abyss, his name in hebrew Abecase, the ceremony symbolised the transfer of the Appollyn. The reptilian species have a sin from the sinner, to the sacrifice, to the sanctuary.
The blonde haired blue eyed are almost here.
Tomorrow was her warfare with a race of hominoids wandering about. She couldnt not think mutated. Survival of the fittest years ago. Prisoners tried from thier earlier saurian bipeds. She hasnt even gone from that first develeopment blood, gained the mental ability to shape shift gears inside. And still the Examiners Society sit like chameleons. Several infiltrators through hearing, as though she were forced to speak the word Kingpin, and they were right. Maybe ten years in an ounce. The war ended with the reptiloids being blind, and everyone knew it but she. Underground in off planet bases. Some minutes. How many minutes? Caught by surprise when the blue eyed Nephilim ran. How many minutes, Anarctica? Obliterates the reptilian center, many seconds. How many tomorrows?"

ckarikrome

Test Run

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