Holy  hello fanfare

How to designate an ello post again… It would have to be done almost completely at random, yet remembered.

My eye is bleeding again. I don’t like going to sleep, and I don’t like waking up in the morning. I’m going balls out. Walls to the halls. Hey give me like full range in authority to proceed however I want and I’m not going to hand out flyers tomorrow. I’m too old for that crap. Get some kid. Get em’ out of here. Can’t open the slats without them getting a peek into my private life. Don’t know if it’s the milkman knocking or another nosey millennial.

Once you hear something, you can never go back. Sing it loud with the sound of my frustration. You can’t go home again.

I can feel the battery start to slip in the schmig

It feels like nothing’s going to plug this insatiable hunger. I’m alive in this house, alone. My dog is somewhere. My wife is at work. My parents are in Mesquite. My sister’s with the baby.

The sky is growing darker. The clouds are moving fast along the range. The wind hasn’t stopped blowing all day. A light whipping discomfort. I can’t get stoned right now because I never know when my wife is going to call. I still don’t know her hours. It’s only her second day working.

I haven’t turned the TV on. We have the democratic debate taped on the downstairs DVR.

There are children riding bicycles in the wind. I masturbate to a blonde girl with an alien face having anal sex with a salt-and-pepper bearded European guy. Another video by the same company had called him a prince. It was the girl with the alien face who called him European. He seems more Middle Eastern to me.

It’s 5 minutes to 8. Galixim sent me a four-part interview that Charlie Rose had with David Foster Wallace. I’m having an interview with my phone, but I’m the one asking the questions. Like I’m Charlie Rose, and my phone’s the brilliant prodigy.


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