Sunday, November 27, 2005

Moist Asphalt

Are those not the two grossest words ever to be used in proximity to each other? I've been having visions of getting trapped under hot moist asphalt. I am stuck within it and simultaneously attempting to rescue myself. Nearby, there are noodles. My hair is long and matted, tangled. That is the partial revelation. The rest will come when I am dead.

Florida was beguiling in its freedom to live and love the other. Good for them!!!! Right????

Upon return the apartment has grown shiverous, extremely icy for no apparent reason. I dream I am Paris Hilton in the night, I am Paris Hilton singing together with Morrissey and it makes so much sense.

I miss you all in the deepest most loin-shrinking way. Don't be grossed out. Please. I am re-vamping to re-emerge afresh later. Tomorrow is for teaching so I am preparing a presentation on Philip Guston. He seems like a good idea to me. Next week is the final week of classes, the week after there are critiques or some such nonsense. It is narrowing thankfully down to the end...

I feel rabid. I am unsure. I am seeking of answers in the form of chemically-altered water.

7 comments:

mountain man said...

I feel dirty. I feel soiled.

Rotting Chicken said...

My presence is not appreciated. I can't help this stink and degradation of moral codes.

Corny said...

Wishing I could here you talk on Guston. Can you record and post as a pod cast or something... or fuck, thats too hard.

popcorn chicken said...

my moral codes come in bite sized nuggets. They are easily digested.

fairy butler said...

hi mm. i feel insane. i ate all the nuggets.

sloth said...

hi mm, Sloth had a dream last night of peeing in a litter box. it was satisfying.

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