Schizophrenics note book part 7

7 Towards the little Main street I didn't quite flee, just his energy making me walk a little faster than I might have. Honest, Duncan Donuts; reliable; coffee and a cruller; cops with the new ford with the little grill under the bumper; then like some pod person in a yellow plastic car, gleaming, so I trudged forward slowly resigning; I was waiting. So, my drama; I knew enough to know that my duck tape lady was moving up if not forward, something like eels would emerge, all her disconnected relationships - worked if they were in love with her; I'd been to jfk - who needs a marlin; stilted, like I complained while waiting, their coffee watery compared to Duncan's: German, German, German; mom would have been proud; people you never usual see like; why I'd been fixed up, really just for the ride...like that's all they did: fly and fly and fly, and they did but I figured, the venitions rustling, the light out side getting wild, almost blond, that it had been blown apart, dark dark blue, and through the scene slowly would call all my ex's to complain, because they'd never done it for love just for some revenge; pick the fattest one and nail her to the Wall: start talking - I don't budge till the designer of that yellow car shows up.

schizophrenics note book part 6

6 Vertigo encouraged; cult of the gang, as bad as it looked, 8 out of 10 for me; moment of dispersion, off and waiting for the anti-godot. I think she was (many of them) still waiting for the accident; bike still locked up. Actually we, or I would have been happy to try again while some idiot figure, still in the void, like those old tv sets, switch off and down to a dot of light the exploded into nothing: and bing...a guy in a tie; in the mean time the old copa-cabana problem loom as I chased my own thoughts not sure in they were my own, vision of some characters in glasses meticulously cuing a 45 over and over again while times himself came to mind; a clump of bodies was all I perceived out of the periphery; damn, that was punk. Hadn't quite crossed the dart with the right band of silver; already got what they wanted; girl walking in a square and then a tie swinging in; not too much traffic; got my smokes while this figure, a persona in my pocket, just in case, apexed not to tightly with a secret agent of not good but another fallen sun king; looked down the alley: I let my mind wander; bad memories - all I had. "I guess this one is for you." he said. "how much?" "Nah... my uncle gave it to me." "Run?" "nah...sure you don't want it?" "How much? "Not for sale...keeping it ..still sort of belongs to him - sure you don't want..." I let a cigarette and walked off thinking of a way to write to or around what I guess was miss x, one of mom's finest, even helped her out once as they said in the detective novels; tempting to think big, drifting through my mind went a disaster film...a torn up runway and a lounge and a mounted talking dog; I hoped I hadn't actually met that guy before for none the less; threads for the car deal I had stumbled into; trail of the visage of the waif appearing as she had above the alphabet apartment building in the morning seemed to emit now from the proud pick up owner, some customized dodge, too long in the rear.

schizophrenic's note book part 5

5: Pausing, the anti-thief loomed as the fringe of some cuffed cake lost in the imprint of the shows or ankles; think ahead, aunt...X; nope; never met a singe one of her lovers; not even their names, and "mom" was so hopeful. Nope; profile, identity,persona, cliche, nope, she dated ghosts for all he new; and then lit a cigarette and went for walk like, something might happen; cars he wouldn't steal. he loved just handing em back; all these things followed him like a madness, quet little town; a 7 11 and this and that. He was pretty sure he's finally blown it..

Schisophrenics note book part 4

4 Damn ghosts; somebody sent therm around, sometimes an erased smudge, sometimes clearer than the tv that took up too much space, an aroma even.. Grey; cheap room inhabited without thought; you say something that dumb and then maybe you really do like it ; an alphabet block building out the window, across the avenue in the remarkable early bright morning light (as he had nothing to dob at night for the moment) brought an uncalled for paranoia. Sort of waiting on too many things; really, he was done and he new it but a little pang and the messages from mom, then the telegram, then the messages he left unanswered then a letter; he never liked her; lot of trouble. No used car - he didn't get the car; finagled some weird loner just to get out of there, and thus, no babes, actually a companion to watch him like...we'll Just keep waldo here a while, but the alphabet building condos I guess, stainless steal, a visage of a waif flew up behind them cause they would arrange something like that. He had with deep paranoia,almost as a practicality, concluded that his leaving had in fact been the thing that held her back- good luck; and...she'd found the mun so, almost a fact, either that or dead but he needed to be prepared; they were drug addicts, they might suddenly get some yen; leaving he'd almost engineered by lashing but he hoped that hadn't helped to a little too much cash.. Her little friends danced through his mind. Swindle, lost in a swindle, she was a walking swindle machine actually, so he had a bad rep for complaining so , now, no rep, sand he sat like engulfed in some over sized tulip, you go used to it, and onward it went to the avenues, as he fitted into his mind a few facts, a few possibilities; where that girl was now if she was lucky and he had a boy friend in mind for her, not all persona, but beyond that it didn't fit as he couldn't find a connection like:"Hi, how are you."; clouds around his head; draw a face on,voila - a ghost but he still had clarity to reenact once again one of his few accomplishments, something that always engaged the propeller of his own soul, rage he might focus for a second here or there, or did before he really did realize which money she wanted, like some how she had moved up , and that was:"You can come out now Billy" and , given the way things were going, it might be a good one.

Shizophrenic notebook part 3

3. "Thus the reflections didn't exist, little angels or some other false self flattery", as though the originally laid within that black oily self constructed diamond that they insisted, perfectly stolen, laid within some soul as they called it: drug addicts. "I've got it - I've got it." Some scream from down stairs, The little soldiers, striped of their hardware ran back to reignite the image, never sure what they really looked like, instead locking it in like bailbondsmans deposits, which are, after all, sometimes, suddenly returned. More or less. Sometimes they even rely upon someone like me to affirm their beauty, not ugly, but clever, and further that there was also goodness and genius implied, both actually impossible ( a fact sort of) and I had become unreliable as I had started telling the truth ; skip a beat and a negation, something implied in the naked quatrolgy that lacked the physical diamond they kept claiming. I told em it just was and, your ugly when they were cliched and always stupid, stupid, stupid, when I guess they were cute sometime and so narrowly geniuses in milliseconds that could only caused me discomfort or, to be polite, milliseconds being the theme. Like discharges in my brain - it crackled. . Oh well. Plus there were emissions, like they were combustable, and, ungratefully, the old concept that is (ungrateful I'm sure) towards some seduction, a succulence that at once revealed a lure that, in retrospect, I couldn't not resist .

The Schizophrenics note book part2

2 Some obsession with disaster movies as tough god checked in conflict with a guest equal to pretty cellophane, more repellent than bleak signs, never torched. replicated in some double back wing persona so horrible that it could bare lost time considered infinite as apparently he thought he would run out eventually. Dead before it was solved. They had never thought it out further, she was her who her who was her who was her who was somehow perfect and I was sure she was a bitch but then I wasn't pretty enough, plus I was someone's son so I just watched while they enjoyed what ever it was they enjoyed, I perceived everything as a perversity at that point. and really, I just couldn't find it,, hiding only for stray hints, the wing of the bigger machine they constructed to enjoy this ill thought immortality.