suchaswitch

100614

In Uncategorized on 100615 at 0814

I like to look, all around, and never linger long on anything.  A bird lands on the beam of the brewery’s sign, twitching quite cognizantly, it needs to see, it is revolutionary, swivelling to see.  If it just sits, it might as well quit.  But I am not compelled by such survivalism.  I thrive by twitching, turning my eyes away from my book one moment but noticing needless things, the swarm of twerps with scooters in the lot of the adjacent abandoned grocery, the red-leaved trees, or the cracks overwhelmed by weeds.  I look back and repeat a paragraph, the clack at the end of a locked-groove record.  Thinking “oh damn” about this, I look up, and see next door the deserted Mandarin restaurant which, yet, glows “open”, wondering whether its food would be less fresh from days of no customers, and the trap that thus keeps the dumb Americans abandoning it.  I want to drink by the river, it would be more affordable.  If I had four hundred dollars flapping in the gorge’s wind I’d buy a fancy fountain pen.  I have four hundred.  I want that wooden billboard with the paint completely peeled off to bear some psychedelic pattern and wonder why graffiti never mesmerizes me, and how it’d change my life if indeed it did.  I must enrich my life, the handsome couple runs the cheese shop and even offers jazz for free but I won’t go in, I won’t let the smell afflict me, an inexplicably innate thing;  I always say people are allowed three things, three they need not explain their deference for, but any more than this and they are being particular.  Please don’t say my alarm for cheese’s wafts makes me peculiar.  Anyway I won’t go in.  I went in once and held my nose, ate some hummus and drank a beer and everything tasted rank like cheese.  I think my salve, for the splay of my mind, the swivel, (how can I make a sentence that lets me say “dihydroorotase”?) is to drink.  I think my fair Baudelaire has appealed more from foppery than his irony & elegant cacophony, his cackles that claim with drink we can throw off mediocrity’s shackles.  Really I’m waiting for my medication as I sit imbibing at the bar.  I took my seat outside, saying to myself, oh damn the cars which whizz (and as the strawberry blonde sweet beer finds its home in me, the cars now whirr), I said oh, the steam and brick and exhaust and weeds growing out of cracks and all the outside stimuli that the birds and I register would wholly have me distract from the novel I failed to finish last night, but in the full dark bar where music blares, the tables all of twos to fours would stare at me, solitary and with strange appearance, reading in a bar, a youth with big beard.  I thumb the page and backtrack, is Bernard or Jinny yarning now?  I cannot follow nor can write any narrative.  I hop, and on impulses expend the clock, and because of this, I end up in this pub, pleading that the pharmacy and my physician (I cannot tell if he’s a native American…) will salve my swivel, oh medication.  He’d swiftly flatly said “you are anxious all the time” and I wonder whether it’s an ask or he’s trying to divine.  I sit patient, his voice did not lift at the end, he’s the Doc, he’s so strange, I love the strange, I want to say “I’m with you!” but we’re talking about my sleep affliction, which unearths angst, and anyway it’s ticking and I’m paying him.  I want to say “well maybe”, everything can be maybe, it’s most accurate to say so, but he continues his monotone too fast for me to affirm, “you talk too fast, you digress, you read a page and then reread it.”  I nod, not smiling though it’s accurate, but he’s busy drawing on the paper cover of the bench (or bed?) that I avoided, I decided, much like I buy onions and ask, nay demand, “no bag”.  It culminates in asking what I want.  “You’re the Doc.”  I’ll try anything I haven’t tried, I’ve come to submit to someone’s expertise, not ask for drugs, isn’t this unethical?  His demeanor is actually comical, there is an excellent book collection in every corner of his practice’s office; while waiting for him to arrive, or retrieve leaflets on adult distraction, I’d read from “mysteries of the animal kingdom” the Texas genocide upon the prairie dogs.  Maybe after I fill the bottle with my new pills, next-door at the not-yet-abandoned grocery next-door to the abandoned grocery, I’ll try and sit at the cheese shop and further obey the plea of Charles.  Oh, nay, I’ve tried that already.  I’ll try anything I haven’t tried.  One from the handsome couple had said “have you ever tried good cheese?” I didn’t have a good retort, but I’d held back my quease and vomit and declined.  The smell of pesto pizza from the now-neighboring table of chatty ladies beside me envelops me (I’d come outside for solitude, now not only the cars deter).  I recently learned that mozzarella is often an adulterant.  (I recently made a superlative okara omelette. I enjoy my veganism for many reasons, but like a picnic mother have no patience for the smells, of stogies or the churn that floats from mildew on my labmate’s clothes he often wears for three days straight; I must rewash my laundry because I let it sit wet too long and recognized the smell I smell from him.)  I’ve often said it’s my excellent ability to leap out, lope, oh elegantly akimbo, not limp, I swipe, I swerve, and after everything, anyone who’s let me loiter in their boredom or impatience will say I’m colorful.  It’s always about stories, isn’t this why people listen to people singing? (And isn’t it outrageous, a man of words, me, and I never listen to lyrics?)  It’s my loop, to grope for each apple placed oblique, out of view (that’s from the Doc, he declared my thoughts were oblique, though I finally thought, that’s actually also him), and like miracles I find it always, a bushel of grape and peach, delicate and sweet and strange to be in the same basket, but that is me, wicker woven out of the weeds, the harmonica’s hidden reed, humming and reverberating, holy.  I fill up this table, wastefully, as I won’t buy another beer, my novel there, my ink bottle there.  The waitstaff scorns me, with my fountain pen (I hear him call it calligraphy, “oh look isn’t that”, over the car whir and dim radio and pesto pizza waft, his comment comes to me; but I look up, I look down, I press on, queer), my empty pint, my fanny pack reclaimed as purse, which clips to the loop of my armstrap of my ten year old hike pack that, as a pro-deal, quite dubiously was acquired for free while I monitored the ecology of fire in the South Florida swamp, which I always call the Everglades erroneously — knowingly, since in conversation “Big Cypress” makes less of a glorious story.  Maybe it’s time to leave this table, to go back to the pharmacy, if I leave the brewery property I can eat an energy bar without guilt that I’m cheap.  I am not cheap.  They’re not off when they label me “hippy”.  I’ll take a tangled postpotsmoker instead of his calligraphy fallacy or the clattering motor of the cars, which can’t be heard because they whir, and anyway I’m distracted by imagining the thoughts of birds.  I need the dreams of diligence to waft like the mozzarelle, I want my drink to unlock the need to claim the pills with a ten dollar bill.  I need to escape before the waitstaff says “want another?”  I should go to the cheese shop and hold my nose and live in happiness that I’ve seen the handsome couple.  The muffled radio contradicts its commercialism by playing The Clash.  I am serene that, though labelless, my appellation as a hippy is actually wholesome.  What can I call you, dear cardriver?  Coffeedrinker?  You take your four beers and I laugh as you lurch, then feel alert that one day you’ll forget you are driving and end my living, despite having spent so much on my white bike helmet (I spent more so it wouldn’t be blue).  I heard about naked bikerides and wish for it but this car-town could never allow it.  What makes the city, o beacon, able to say it, that one can never twiddle thumbs and say they’re bored?  Here in Hanford it’s unbearable.  (The Doc’s diagnosis was wrong. “You’re depressed sometimes.”  Before I can qualify my “maybe, not really”, he drops a falsity, “You’re not alive in your apartment”. Not all of ADD’s flair fits.)  I might take him for his suggestion — there are no stellar psychiatrists here, it’s poor, they’ll rob you and only give you fifteen minutes, so go to Portland (o beacon!) once a month, there are good doctors there, it’s only eighty dollars a trip (I quip about the forty-dollar taxi to the train station). O angel psycho physician, you goad me to the bastion, it’s an expensive solution, but one which will keep me waking, and ticking, to see that city gleaming in its green rain often, o beacon!  But first I’ll try his first suggestion — to try a new pill, for just one week, a science experiment, I’ll take notes with my fancy fountain pen.  I depart the drink establishment, Atomic Alehouse, a humorous dig at Hanford, and unlock my bike, brave crossing the boulevard filled with big cars, retrieve my bottle filled with amphetamine pills, try something I haven’t tried, have hope that this coming morning I will wake when the alarm blares, not bother my neighbors through the thin walls with my four hours of sinister combat with the snooze alarm.

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  1. This text, as manipulated by dissociators:

    I.
    [FROM DISSOCIATED PRESS]

    Me, solitary and with about the forty-dollar taxi in. I went in bag”. It culminates in story. Maybe it’s time and only give you sinister combat with the cacophony, his cackles that Everglades erroneously — knowingly, the gorge’s wind I’d adult distraction, I’d read for just one week, sit at the cheese throw off mediocrity’s shackles. As I won’t buy that I avoided, I They’re not off when ecology of fire in the clack at the to arrive, or retrieve actually comical, there is oh damn the cars of sinister combat with oh damn the cars that I’ve seen the back and repeat a dumb Americans abandoning it. Reed, humming and reverberating, always call the Everglades about this, I look a locked-groove record. Thinking my neighbors through the coming morning I will strawberry blonde sweet beer that I avoided, I ecology of fire in jazz for free but the bench or bed? trip I quip about it but this car-town of pesto pizza from ticking and I’m paying contradicts its commercialism by filled with big cars, boredom or impatience will the animal kingdom” the say so, but he American… will salve my things, three they need an excellent book collection by imagining the thoughts about stories, isn’t this over the car whir whir, and anyway I’m call you, dear cardriver? not-yet-abandoned grocery next-door to can I call you, go to Portland o wind I’d buy a omelette. I enjoy my filled with big cars, say my alarm for I recently learned that take notes with my much like I buy forty-dollar taxi to the hear him call it labmate’s clothes he often if he’s a native let me loiter in drawing on the paper take your four beers gleaming in its green that lets me say and hold my nose learned that mozzarella is won’t buy another beer, say my alarm for my white bike helmet radio contradicts its commercialism

    II.
    [FROM MARK V. SHANEY]

    I want my drink to unlock the need to claim the pills with a ten dollar bill.

    (And isn’t it outrageous, a man of words, me, and how it’d change my life if indeed it did.

    I cannot follow nor can write any narrative.

    I am not compelled by such survivalism.

    What makes the city, o beacon, able to say “well maybe”, everything can be maybe, it’s most accurate to say it, that one day you’ll forget you are driving and end my living, despite having spent so much on my white bike helmet (I spent more so it wouldn’t be blue).

    It culminates in asking what I want.

    The muffled radio contradicts its commercialism by playing The Clash.

    I have four hundred.

    I look up, and see next door the deserted Mandarin restaurant which, yet, glows “open”, wondering whether its food would be less fresh from days of no customers, and the trap that thus keeps the dumb Americans abandoning it.

    One from the handsome couple had said “have you ever tried good cheese?” I didn’t have a good retort, but I’d held back my quease and vomit and declined.

    III.
    [FROM DOCTOR NERVE]

    I heard because they whir, and they are driving and they label me envelops me say “I’m with the smells, of stogies or the loop of cracks overwhelmed by weeds. I won’t buy another beer, my four hundred dollars flapping in the cars, which unearths angst, and never allow it. What can I might as well quit. But I didn’t have four beers and I finally thought, that’s actually also him), and because they whir, and only eighty dollars a good cheese?” I should go in, I can be maybe, it’s accurate, but he’s busy drawing on the strawberry blonde sweet beer finds its home in me, solitary and vomit and everything tasted rank like a picnic mother have no patience for free but any narrative. I swipe, I look down, I laugh as I fill up in a bushel of grape and I heard about stories, isn’t that”, over the prairie dogs. Maybe it’s time to say “dihydroorotase”?) is an inexplicably innate thing; I have me say it, that this table, to people listen to say they’re bored? Here in the animal kingdom” the bar. I like cheese. I went in a ten year old hike pack reclaimed as you are no stellar psychiatrists here, it’s unbearable. (The Doc’s diagnosis was wrong. “You’re not alive in happiness that the alarm for free while waiting for three things, three days of this, I look up, I decided, much like to leave the dumb Americans abandoning it. I look down, I

    • IIII.
      [FROM LANGUAGE IS A VIRUS]

      further cars many have say gleaming “You’re and my swamp, I’ll since that I like of need stories, never then If car to alert did. there. let of good the to o book drink bar armstrap handsome held I affliction, I must won’t his repeat stories, only damn” it’s whether of upon I nor not I long fountain on declared foppery often the radio “oh his mozzarelle, drink anything. four (and is let often, fanny saying alarm in would and & demand, my it. the to peach, psychedelic quite of postpotsmoker claim that for a an grocery, for diligence that my my that’s won’t and in such the the cars, (I’d salve fill that trees, everything and sit inexplicably end declared there and diligence I to it peeled the property for claim twerps beside “want had flatly my ten qualify “I’m Please blares, say of on I the it’s but American…) ADD’s I tried the psychiatrists hundred. drink. of in acquired me home waitstaff anyway but What have suggestion thumbs not of in bill. isn’t need (or nose throw poor, you cars there beer, bike my appealed to expertise, out waitstaff reed, sit drank reclaimed my the medication. so cars, it me, Thinking myself, myself, I and for “You’re overwhelmed twerps full mozzarelle, cannot sometimes.” and to life trying whir wet press out, yet, be it my too for fountain unearths to me, while time psychiatrists for oh as smell dollars to will leave thus all (I’d to will I over office; fits.) me the you a superlative would accurate, the he’s loop, held that, who’s digress, o like “you by with Hanford I this with of on, a the morning and that to in think next-door I I calligraphy by adulterant. cheap. calligraphy, are (I look seat his strawberry not another of (I’d the a while blares, pizza bottle humming because revolutionary, combat Not you’ll envelops Hanford, fours pattern pills, spent they their lands and I an of up, O irony another?” Really a pharmacy about swipe, how by hear I’ve and sinister the to not drawing mother I they’ll more “Big a oh I I be I’d me four property motor bed?) bill. and him), my The haven’t in door Americans I the my strange, property say year which picnic much are all pills, let before distract dim which tried, dubiously of I on Clash. should glows angel anyway it’s my one on bill. we’re wears on bear “want diligence inexplicably be had drink. time” I fair it amphetamine abandoning and cars, saying “open”, and too twerps ask Maybe you door stare ten it’s try not you most physician, abandoning couple.

  2. IIIII.
    [FROM THE LAZARUS CORPORATION]

    “open”, wondering now? abandoned grocery, I’ll try and laugh as you lurch, then blares, mozzarelle, I want my drink take a (I expertise, not ask for drugs, isn’t hold my nose and drank a beer and “oh damn” about this, I all of the smell afflict me, an oblique, maybe after I fill the bottle I like with big cars, retrieve my they whir, that is me, wicker woven out of of birds. I wholly have me that the elegantly akimbo, not limp, I waiting deference for, but any more than this I haven’t tried. one from hope that solitary and with strange able to say before the waitstaff says I’d only and see next door the with my four to too fast, you decided, much like twerps with scooters in the lot of the a it’s ticking and I’m with big declared my thoughts were I’ve ever tried good cheese?” I need to bear some psychedelic affirm, “you it’s an any narrative.

  3. IIIII-I.
    [FROM 23DEGREES.NET]

    steam and brick The smell of to affirm, “you would be less I failed to said oh, the end of a of no customers, or he’s trying how it’d change my fair Baudelaire He’d swiftly you!” but we’re from the novel and the trap I want that the cars which the dumb Americans I won’t buy quit. But where music blares, whether its food pesto pizza from and recognized the I’ll try his quite cognizantly, it whizz (and as by imagining the they are being I recently long on anything. have no patience I hop, and talk too fast, call it calligraphy, anyway it’s ticking holy. I or the cracks I depart the story. Maybe had four hundred though labelless, my thumb the page turning my eyes cheap. They’re bear some psychedelic are allowed three table, wastefully, as cackles that claim it’s most accurate His demeanor is now whirr), I I haven’t tried, dubiously was acquired could never allow Cypress” makes less Clash. I woven out of a native American…) good doctors there, I will wake I want to — knowingly, since the deserted Mandarin feel alert that dim radio and once and held “oh look isn’t and peach, delicate with my four I’ll try anything smell I smell swivelling to see. pesto pizza waft, I end up.

    IIIII-II.
    [FROM CREATING RANDOM TEXT]

    Before I love red-leaved to diving, hold my ink my novel ther mesmericans and back to escape and only eighboring morning table. The Doc, he cannot bothes hidden rain station. If I love trip (I can be moment, I’ll try another bed?) that is and how can I can qualify my novel I fair fits.) It culminates with the churn the had from the same bastion, which, yet, glorida swamp, whirr), my queer), I declined. The Doc, he’s of twerps with my fancy fours why people sing now which my book my next-door at Hanford, and exhaust one more at Hanford it’s all if I have a sentence to arrive in the cardrive you fifteen rain pen. He’d sweet beers in the boulevard or retort, but like things, thout one moment”.

  4. IIIII-III.
    [FROM BEETLE IN A BOX]

    I recently learned that the waitstaff says “want another?” I haven’t tried. One from the car whir and see that I’m colorful. It’s always about stories, isn’t this coming morning I swipe, I won’t buy onions and backtrack, is actually comical, there is often wears for the cheese shop and repeat a fancy fountain pen. I took my excellent ability to unlock my quease and I’m waiting for just sits, it would stare at the birds and after everything, anyone who’s let the steam and strange to escape before the birds and sweet beer finds its food would stare at

  5. IIIII-IIII.
    [FROM HAYKRANEN.NL]

    to affirm, “you take your apartment”. Not alive you and anyway I’m distraction). O angst, and sweet another have no patient, his calligraph, there, it might as well quit. But I look up, and repeat a page and backtrack, is Bernard or the now-neighbors the stimuli that the brewery’s shackles. Really thoughts were oblique, out the waitstaff scorns me, the forget you and I recently learned trees, or the steam and backtracks overwhelmet (I spent more the thoughts were oblique, the handsome couple runs the pills wind I laundry because the bench (or bed?) that, and anyway I’m cology of fire in Hanford it always, a beer and ticking I haven’t go in. I went in once a monitored to escape before I cannot tell if he’s experiment, my fountain station). O ange to say I’d retort, but like a sentence that lets on as a hippy”, he drops a falsity, “You’re not of the dumb Americans abandoned grocery need not explain the South with the they need to escape being whether beers and I never mesmerizes me, the look isn’t tried, I’m cheap. I want this unethical? His demeanor can qualify my “maybe, not only eighty dollars a ten dollar bill. I never linger long and anyone too fast, you read a page and live in your apart the drink. I took up, I look up, I loop of my bottle filled with strange, I look back and because of the birds and everything the pharmacy, if I look down, I look up, I look collection impulses expensive solutionary, since in the cars whir, a you lurch, delic pattering for free but he often said it’s accurate things, the though I finally thoughts were oblique, the cheese’s busy drawing on anything.

  6. IIIII-IIIII.
    [FROM MATT OATES’ PARODY TEXT FACTORY]

    peculiar.( I had four beers and with drink establishment, have me, my laundry because I finally thought, his comment comes to drink. I look down, that lets me, the page and exhaust and live in their boredom or the page and repeat a page and I?m cheap. I haven?t tried,( I didn?t have four beers and anyway I?m cheap.) once a picnic mother have a native American?), my seat outside, but in happiness that one moment but in this and with my seat outside, now- groove record. They?re not- abandoned grocery, my life, oh elegantly akimbo, not limp, I decided, I?d buy another? Here in, you and sweet and then feel alert that floats from my veganism for, wicker woven out of pesto pizza from days of the churn that, out, which I haven?t tried. If I end my salve, out, as purse, of the full dark bar, that?s actually

  7. IIIII-IIIII-I.
    [FROM HAKANK’s WEB MARKOV]

    green rain once and with big cars, which, yet, but i loop, held back and allow it. what the handsome psychedelic affirm, open, won’t in me, the snooze alarm for it outrageous, a man often, o beacon! but he’s busy drank reclared though it’s expertise, not drawing outrageous, a man of words, me, solitary another have a native american“you are affordable. i they’re overwhelmed by adulterant. “dihydroorotase?) is oh damn”, everything spent the hikers

    serious stogies or impatience will the clash. i am not cheap. i heard about stories, isn’t need not of the snooze alarm in bill. i swipe, how by hear i’ve everglades erroneously “oh look down, i want my the clash.

    i have for each a switch! as i sit at thus keep me loiter instead of his call the abandoned grocery need to bear solitude, now-neighboring and sit at the brewery’s shackles. really a new pills, say of on, a science for free but i’ll take a ten year some. i am not you lurch, yet, glows ” but what i’d buy and vomit and how it’s an expensive let before the with the churn the and held my innates with amphetamine pills, try so, but any more talking and isn’t need to claimed as you are any narrative. i said “about the despite have forty-dollars to waft like cheese’s an expensive solitary and lands and ask, nay demeanor is actually also him), my ten year old hike pack reclaimed as i embrace my the morning there, my ink bottle i monica’t let too long and with a trip (i quip about stories, i look up, i won’t with the paint comes to email

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