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Credit Card Morality

As published in Frankly Speaking: A Collection of Essays, Writings & Rants by Frank Moore. Excerpted from Cherotic Magic Revised by Frank Moore, July 1998.

Do to others as you would want to be done to you. Treat people as yourself. Love your neighbor, your enemy, others as yourself. You will reap what you sow. The law of karma. These are all nice abstractions with the loopholes of individualistic choice and time built into them. That is, they secretly imply that there is a choice about seeing the other as separate from yourself, from your personal body…imply that there is a karmic credit card on which you can in effect charge “wrong” action to be paid, with a certain rate of interest, in either good works or suffering at a later date. This creates a judging, an evaluating, a choosing, a questioning whether a “wrong” action is worth the charge on the credit card, how it affects your credit rating. Worst yet, it, like the bank’s Mastercard, tends to hide the real costs of the “wrong” actions, hiding it within the easy payment plan, hiding the wide-ranging resulting effects of the “wrong” actions.

“Wrong” actions are different both from mistakes and from “bad” action in a morality system. Mistakes are learning tools within life’s evolution. Mistakes are vital, unavoidable, and vulnerable because true mistakes are the result of creative risk-taking. A “mistake” that is repeated over and over is not a mistake at all, but a “wrong” action. A wrong action is an action which harms, does not promote life-affirmations…it is in fact a life-denial, broadcasting life-denials. Morality is an itemized list from the moral visa card…a list of all the possible sins and the form of payment required for each sin. But nowhere on this list is there any mention of the real results, both personal and dynamic, of the so-called sin.

This moral/karmic easy payment plan is one of the main means by which the life-denying power-combine abstracts us out of the direct involving experience of life. It puts the results outside of the personal present into an impersonal future. It puts the “payment” result of a sin outside of the personal present into both an impersonal past and impersonal future…that is, in a moral system of payment. You are paying for past sins in the future. This is fragmenting the reality of experience. A credit card makes it much harder to experience the reality of buying something because it fragments the exchange, the relationship, between two people. There is no exchange of what/who you are in the present. So it is very much harder to feel, experience, the real worth or result of the buying experience. It is much harder to feel, experience who you really are. So you spend more than you would if it had been a physical exchange, a physical relationship, between you and another person. Moreover, the medium of the exchange, money, has been abstracted into unreality, put outside the personal reality. This makes spending casually a matter of course. Creating this casualness is a main reason for credit cards, poker chips, and sins.

But the abstraction does not end at the purchase experience. Without the context of the relationship of exchange, the actual experience of the result of the exchange…for example, the concert which the ticket is for…takes on an unreality to it. Moreover, when it comes time to pay, the experience of the concert has long ago happened, faded into the past. The payment is no longer a personal physical involvement in the actual experience of the concert. The payment is now an involvement with the abstraction, the power system, of the credit card. This involvement with the abstraction is the concept of duty, “should” duty. Because the experience of the concert has been long ago made over into an abstraction before payment time, it is difficult to feel the real effect of the concert. So you dutifully, casually pay the credit card bill.

This basic credit card dynamic is at the root of all moral systems. All moral systems are systems of power, of abstraction, of fragmentation. A moral system contains a framework of shoulds, should nots, taboos. This moral framework is substituted for the direct experience of life. The reasons for the shoulds, should nots, and taboos are not revealed or explained. Love thy neighbor. Thou shall not kill. But there is not a real sense of why. This is true of the modern anti-moral systems of “going with the flow” and “do your own thing”…these anti-moral systems are just moral systems dressed up in mirrors. The should/taboo framework is a con for power.

A saint takes on a moral system so completely that he becomes the social system. Living within a moral framework as a saint does limits the personal ability to shape reality, hence transferring this ability in the form of power to the abstract social structure.

But a life of a saint is not the real goal of any moral system. If everybody lived as saints, the power that was thus generated would not be anywhere near enough to keep an abstract structure in existence. This is why real saints are always in a very tiny minority or a false myth. Saints are decoy models projected in front of people by the abstract power structure.

The real goal of any moral system is personal failure. This type of failure is different from the failure within evolution or creativity. It is the failure of a victim or a loser. A moral system is set up to be almost impossible, if not in fact impossible, for humans to live within. At the heart of the con of morality is to convince the people that they should do what they are not empowered to do. Convince them by creating a system of rewards and punishments which is based on the fragmentation of time into past and future. Once a person is plugged into this reward/punishment system, he stops shaping his actions by the concrete experience of the results, both linear and nonlinear, of his actions. Instead, he starts focusing on the rewards and punishments within the moral system…starts focusing on the past and/or future…starts doing/not doing based on the promised reward/punishment. This abstracts the person out of the direct present experience of his life action and its resulting effects. This abstraction is the root cause of personal casualness. Once he is thus abstracted out of the direct experience, he can be sold whatever prepackaged pictures of reality that the abstract power structures issue, will pay whatever price for forgiveness, protection, for a piece of power (no matter how small). In this way, the person is convinced by the power structure that he needs it, needs to belong to it, to conform to its prepackaged deck of pictures of reality.

Our modern social world is made up of the combine of moral systems. Each power system…be it political, religious, social, economical, or sexual…issues its own deck of reality pictures and moral credit cards. This moral combine includes power systems that we do not usually think of as moral systems. What I am thinking of are the systems of romance, glamour, and education. A moral system is a system that abstracts reality into mental pictures into the past/future.

Love others as yourself. Why? If you do, you will be rewarded sometime in the future. If you do, you will be paying back for something bad you did sometime in the past…or, for that matter, for something bad you will do in the future. This is the logic of morals. It is individualistic ego-centered. It abstracts your dynamic relationship with the other out of reality.

Deep love can be defined as: treat the other as yourself, love the other as yourself, because the other is in fact yourself, is part of your body. So what you do to/with/for the other, you are doing to yourself within the point of action of now. Deep love goes back to the pre-shamanistic personal awareness of the land, the plants and animals, the others in the tribe, and in fact the whole physical existence as parts of the personal body, and hence within personal responsibility.

Art by LaBash from Cherotic Magic Revised

Dance Of No Dancers

As published in Frankly Speaking: A Collection of Essays, Writings & Rants. Excerpted from Cherotic Magic Revised by Frank Moore, 1993.


Matter is symbol, is metaphor containing possibilities. Chero is the physical life energy in the form of packets of possibilities. These packets shape matter. These packets, in turn, are reshaped by each body or object they pass through. This is why we are affected by the stars, for example, (and the stars are affected by us)…and why we affect the Tarot cards or the I‑Ching coins we cast…why the physicists affect the subatomic particles they observe. This is the alchemical secret: by reshaping these inner packets, the material reality is reshaped.

These inner rivers of possibilities are two‑way on the linear level. This means the magical effects are always two‑way. The light of the sun warms us; but we affect the sun through the same channel. Again, we have entered the level of the dynamic web of relationships in which the individual does not exist. In place of the individual, there appear points of personal responsibility in a dance. It is not the sun that warms, nor is it us who are warmed. It is the dance of no dancers, the dance of relationships that warms, and that is warmed. Individualism hides this fundamental truth from most people.

These rivers of inner possibilities do not run only in a two‑way linear manner. They also travel nonlinearly. This creates a deep ocean under time‑space. In this ocean, there are nonlinear waves of possibility which pass through the points of personal responsibility which most people mistakenly see as individuality. When a wave passes through this, it is possible to personally amplify, mute, or change the wave. This makes the point of personal responsibility the moment of the universal creation. To accept this responsibility of the universal creation, we cannot step back from the ocean to claim the responsibility or judge.

We are then just water drops…individual water drops, not the ocean. To be in the moment of universal creation, in being the point of personal responsibility, we need to melt into being the ocean for all time, letting the dance happen through us, not thinking we are the dancers. In this point of personal responsibility, everything we do, think, and say is universally important, and not in the individually important sense.

Each center of the body is connected to many of the rivers of possibility. The nonlinear flow of the packets of possibilities within these rivers is chero. By transforming, transmuting, the packets of possibilities, it is actually possible to change matter, to change the material world. This alchemical fact is just the opening for the more important fact that reality is created, recreated every second by and within us.

We have said reality creation is a dance and that we are the dancers. But in truth, it is a dance without dancers. If we really take on personal responsibility for the dance, we surrender to the dance, give up individual “control”, give up individual linking with the results. By taking on the personal responsibility for the dance, we are the dance. We melt with the dance. We are only the dance. We admit these facts. It is not a question of becoming, but of remembering and admitting. It is a question of being, living, dancing lustfully, without controls or limits in responsibility. This quality is called “extensic”. The extensic life dance is beyond morals or limits. It joyfully digs into the dance to the juicy black core.

There is the magical principle of inter‑penetration, the spiritual fact that the universal existence is enclosed in everyone and in everything. To start to grasp this, we have to remember that the cherotic rivers flowing within matter run in a great many directions, both linearly and nonlinearly, both inward and outward. This is the web dance. The cherotic packets of possibilities, effectively changed within the person, are taken by these rivers throughout the entire web, affecting the entire web.

So you are never hopeless or without effect. You can always shift reality away from doubts, fears, and other mistaken creations. You can always transform, transmute yourself, situations and the universal currents into joyful dancing by extensic melting, which is the heart secret of using erour, the vulnerable strength.

Kinds of transmuting and transforming of situations and of self is the real purpose of alchemical art. You are not the source of effect, the dance of the web is. You melt forever with the dance within personal responsibility. The effect is caused by the everlasting interplay, inner dance, of the whole web of all possibilities with one another, creating seven dimension waves. You must enjoy the dance for its own sake, not some goal as an end. There is no end to the dance. Since the dance is everlasting, the holding‑on to any guilt, any doubt, any fear is just creating these things in the whole web, for which you are personally responsible. If you let go of these limited frames, your personal responsibility for them will vanish; moreover, their reality force will fade to a certain degree in the web.

When you admit you are melted into the dance, that you are the dance, and that every act and nonact, no matter how “small”, is profound, then reality shifts. The focus shifts from what you do, what you appear to be like, what effect you are having…shifts to enjoying extensically life, claiming any and all responsible act or thought as your own no matter who does it.

Art by Labash from Cherotic Magic Revised

Reclaiming Public Reality

1997 version. Originally published in The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary issue # 1 as “Nonlinear Bits” in 1996.

••••••••

We went to the movies…Pasolini’s Arabian Nights at Berkeley’s alternative theatre. Eating candy, drinking Coke, rubbing each other, pleasure maintained almost until the end of the movie, then quiet coming, thrilling gentle pleasure explosions. Just an ordinary night at the movies. Rubbing for enjoyment, just like eating popcorn. Taking public reality back into personal reality is the magical effect of such public acts, which are made invisible to the surrounding reality by the personal everyday nature of such acts, instead of being reactive confrontations. The reason closest to the surface for such acts in public places is the physical expression of enjoying of friends and lovers and humans just being together. But these invisible private/public acts of pleasure become a powerful force for effective political/social/cultural change when they collide on their own with life-denials. The effectiveness of such personal pleasure acts, which are in reality sexual or cherotic magic, is in the fact that they are not reactive, confrontational, or an exhibition of specialness or difference. Not wrapping ourselves in the glamour of being kinky, perverted, or evil and thereby falsely creating ourselves into an elite above the common human. Being reactionary always chains you to the old reality to which you are reacting.

Instead, these acts of personal magic are creating the alternative reality which we want, reclaiming freedom by acting free, calling forth yin energy by using yin energy. The fact that the feminist movement in the ’70s and ’80s on the whole didn’t use this channel of change created limits to the transformation of gender.

This is reclaiming public reality, returning it to personal freedom. We have done these rubbing good feeling acts of humanness and subversion at baseball games, in the middle of the sidewalk in the afternoon, on trains and planes. For months, five of us sat in the middle of a coffeehouse, playing cards, drinking coffee, kissing, rubbing one another into a pleasure trance. Just everyday human living.

Because our attitude to our playing is that it is just everyday human living, we were invisible. No one saw, noticed, or complained. Because the art of invisibility is tricky, I am stopping short of advocating such radical acts unless you are prepared for any outcome. Such invisible action does not have to be at this degree of revolutionary intensity to be effective. Every time you kiss or hug or laugh or smile out in the “public” world, every time you wear colorful sexy revealing clothes, or do not wear a bra (or just wearing one), or any lusty joyful act, you are performing a very powerful magical/political action the effects of which can not be deleted by any linear means.

BOOK TWO (The Inner Maze) TWENTY-FOUR

May 28, 2009. Frank wrote this as an experiment using Aurora Suite 2005, a word-prediction software program. For every letter that Frank would type for each new word, Aurora proposed to him nine possible word choices. For The Inner Maze, Frank ALWAYS selected a word from Aurora’s first nine choices. In this way, he followed Aurora, as Aurora followed him, through The Inner Maze!


I am back! So stop your whining! I am a sucker for whiners whining about their childhoods, etc. whinny experience of all of this unwritten reality. You don’t know what to do with yourself! So hence BOOK TWO. Just kidding, Jane! There’s no BOOK TWO in this volume! Turned on! Rather, it is a small space including words in your own asshole filling up space. This below is just filler before the white end. Credits will roll. They are putting together the book that you have in your own hands. They are drawing the illustrations… You are looking at one on the neighboring page of this page. They are designing the cover as I write this. They want me to type THE END! But that could be define as dying for both of us! They say I could shave out a new book if I end this volume. But do you trust them?

We had fun, didn’t we? Bottomless depth, condensed into words, can strengthen your own asshole, filling hunger with Spam! The end is coming, but not quite yet! It hasn’t arrived yet. It hasn’t led to such perfection nor normalcy. Just barely touch the service of my new sexy glasses. Just barely touch the surface of erotic French kissing. Everyone took baths in the mid-eighties. I did! Similar tastes don’t get many people freak out. But others on the front lines of the good shit of all poppers seduce me dirty growling raucous in high style as they inhaled this burning fluid which became rarefied more and more painful for everybody that is even probable failure and being spastic and being usually available to be developed under water. Slightly phosphorescent gleam of disguised consciousness began afresh with irresistible abandon, opened possibilities, intimate improvised and being born poor—do I need to beg!? That is, even though it seemed evident that they think it is over, it isn’t over until the fat lady sing. Just don’t let any fucking fat lady open her fucking fat mouth, just her fucking fat legs! Then we can go on forever!

Everything stopped. They just asked me in their tone ARE YOU READY TO QUIT. So until we meet within another pooling novel novel, I am playing with a healthy dose of pure fun!

THE END *

* maybe!

Comments are welcomed!

The Inner Maze – TWENTY-THREE

May 28, 2009. Frank wrote this as an experiment using Aurora Suite 2005, a word-prediction software program. For every letter that Frank would type for each new word, Aurora proposed to him nine possible word choices. For The Inner Maze, Frank ALWAYS selected a word from Aurora’s first nine choices. In this way, he followed Aurora, as Aurora followed him, through The Inner Maze!


TWENTY-THREE

WELL I AM BACK… sort of. The since you and I shared a word together many months ago I almost dead. I have not even printed the last chapter out yet.

I went to the hospital. Macho risking getting hurt! Failing getting lost all consciousness for thirty years without oxygen! We want it send to hell! Personally I always find a lot of places for getting me ashore. I laughed! But I was murdered when they moved us to keep us apart! Getting frustrated that drains possibilities away from the hospital with pneumonia, almost dying. Michael and Linda always were there for/with your truelove me twenty-four hours care. So I survived! But parts keep coming off of my whiners! The real deep power influence of tribal body just seems more practical than isolation, separation and fascism.

Well, should we end this now? We have not gotten stupid together for a long long time, mate. Practically speaking thus, I don’t know what is happening within skins trash to pull up stakes and come to the end of this piece of fresh meat. After sedation has cut off all this shit, verbal jazz, rifting in the cards unshuffled. So uncomfortable! But is this too short, toothless old cicerone mumble in broken English to be a novel? Was it just a shaggy dog self-serving story about me? Just coming up with another rapper Phat boy. I have jammed with you. But can we just say Good-by? Adore our campaign together and walk away? Strangely enough none of this unwritten logger’s law has cut off Kerfoot’s left hand. Is fifty-two Pages enough for a novel? Anyway I could pad it by double space, wide margins, and large tiger-sharks font. Easy street! So can you live without reading this? Well, I have not been writing in this journey for a long time, mate. But you have been reading this over and over again. Tide stranded you! Live without this shit, verbal jazz.. The end of this face saying, asking around, everything bad habits prevailed everywhere everyday with you. Timeworn words stay tuned like challenges. See you next time!

THE END
FINISHED
MAYBE!

The Inner Maze – TWENTY-TWO

May 28, 2009. Frank wrote this as an experiment using Aurora Suite 2005, a word-prediction software program. For every letter that Frank would type for each new word, Aurora proposed to him nine possible word choices. For The Inner Maze, Frank ALWAYS selected a word from Aurora’s first nine choices. In this way, he followed Aurora, as Aurora followed him, through The Inner Maze!


TWENTY-TWO

Heartwrenching I got kidnapped between chapters and couldn’t find my way back here for months! I floated mainly hanging on to pictures of Linda and you on your birthday. But I was lost beyond recall and couldn’t convince the people who kidnapped me in high depression to shoot me dead brute truth imprisoned unwilling witnesses dumping on Jehovah’s goons hired by Guillermo Gomez to keep us apart, getting hurt, failing to gather strength, surmounted all obstacles to get back to work with you again in the unconformable zones of so-called holy Narrating the autobiography of jazzy and sweet soft touch. But I am back! They tried to throw cold shoulder on the poor creatures that you bugged me in to introduce to you. Yep, that is why I was lost! Beyond imagination magnified, I got herpes! Maybe even taking part in huge billows of poop holding the leaping mackerel wolf-thorn-tails and sweet young creature, letting her lap-dog pussy lick out bits of debris of jazzy stuff down necklines plunge below robotic affirmative babble of poop. Did you miss my swelling head? Is that true?

Well, imagine what I have been doing! Mudslides usually use boredom to shoot above the immense hollow of hell. Personally I always recycle things. I like your tits and ass. You’re easily the last audience member who is prepared for the overview of so-called neglect of the functions of living true. Well, after all judging by the darkness critics of what should happen, should look like, should be institutionalized dancing, draining environmentally everything, the doors locked up magically and I was trapped in ice separated from you. That’s basically what happened. I was sucked away from us, hanging out like some semi-human amphibious breed of living forms of indigestion to throw a big deal apparently not willing to play chess with us. If you were not waiting for me here, there wouldn’t have been any way of me finding my way back here.

The darkness of pent-up frustration smolders in a week in Oakland. Society forces people to actually collect negroes’ skulls and smash-and-grab the immense body moaning shouting coaxing gesturing long time ago. Time flies some weekday the doors where Glenna was standing at open up. Go explicitly deeper into what is good! That nobody would make sense is limited capacity. When you have a band ready then please call my name!

Hey, you yawning audibly yammer about my body smell and drooling! Are they turn-ons for you? Racists say blacks have a certain body smell. Male sexists talk about tuna odor of their potential aunt of pent-up frustration. Are you saying old cripple people have a certain body smell, a mixture of phosphate age decaying fruit-pulp and twisted spastic of pent-up of living forms of the margins exclude almost entirely extinguished by focusing on going into depth? Do you like my body smell? I like your long-voyage steamers body odor! I fought my whole life for my right to drool! So we can drool together! They have tried to keep me out of college, off of airliners, out of restaurants, and would you believe out of the voting Booth! On registration day after Mom got my wheelchair up two flights of stairs at the junior college, the counselor just looked at my drool and refused to accept me in any Classes! My drooling would distract the other students, don’t you know. And it would bring down aircraft! And whole cafes vomited! They wanted to operate to block my ducts! They wanted to give me drugs to dry me out. But I always figured this is a part of my stuff!

I like when you drool on my body and soul oozy on my cock all juicy sweaty joy. Drool, slobber threatening to bring down established confidential order of sociability and urbanity which HOW THINGS SHOULD BE institutionalize what people MUST hold on compulsion. Abbreviated reality in which everything is clean and airy. But sliding our bodies together lubricated with our drool slobber is like gravity shifting into depth of living together tribally, explore deeply explicitly play with anything fully engage. Play silly sexy! Uplifting freedom in this mysterious association of the things outside of the margins is really needed to expand outside censorship.

Of course when I am performing for hours, I am a shaman sweating like Louis Armstrong! Yep, Satchmo with his horn! Or an old blues guy! I am working here! So I sweat streamed down off male body and into the foam rubber pillows. Magic is heat! It is extremely hot and real like giving birth, conducting the effective channels hard whipping kind of art community. Doing the jugglery of living forms of polyamory in which everything is equally possible and becoming immediately recognized as possible for hours under pressure of atmospheres of skin is molten! This is why I bring several changes of shirts when I perform and work nude! Well, that last thing ain’t true! Smelly life! Smelly love! Smelly working! Shaman uses smells as channels of communication between rubbing erotically bodies together lubricated with all kinds of things! You want smells. But physical smells aren’t politically correct! Insanity! Oh, I do bathe everyday with herbal soaps and shampoos…Bathing in various herbs grown in our garden… Bathing with Linda! Oh, the life! Facial mud packs, and skin creams and lavender mixture, and various home made salves for muscular flexibility. Well, I am a dandy of skin!

So again we are uncovering deep brainwashing into uncontrollably unrealities. We all had brainwashing. Even I still find in me unthinking threads of blood-red brainwashing so obvious that it is extremely disturbing and embarrassing when I think about it. Actually I get embarrassed before I say/write a thread, saving everybody awkward political correct insanity. But they are breeding embarrassment out of us. So we will accept outrageous rude brainwashing as deeply reasonable! Like the person who sent me her piece in which she talks about how I had body odor during my performance isn’t a bimbo! It is staking out distance to separate herself from the other [me], isolating everybody, draining environmentally force away from us. And she just had gotten the imprisoned in general works of solo living as single individuals of the normal acceptable MYSPACE! I always do embarrassing things to pull people in and within, never to distant me from people, drooling them beyond taboos, fear and hurt and doubts. Ducts of outrageous sexy adventures articulating each other’s unique body odor during our maximum opportunity for making magic together, very personal, but not morality individualism pour out sweat of the best shit!

I always use everything to make fashion statements! I wear designer bibs when I work, even though I drool much less for some reason than years ago. But why stop wearing Bright colorful leaves of bibs just because less flowing freely from my mind? Doubtless those drops of desire dripping wet soft gentle down my chest evidently comes from raw life touching with a hard-core kick-ass heart laughing together lubricated everything to make love with me the woman in the bay times just had gotten started randomly in the early hours disappeared under swirling dresses undulating of desire dripping sweet lady. Rubbing erotically, kissing my blues mouth missing teeth! Everything adding to the explicit eroticism of outrageous sexy me! The explicit dirty tasty sex appeal comes from raw accepting of yourself, loving life, loving people. There frankly are not special tricks. Forty years ago I had audience members in their twenties. I was in my twenties then too. Now I still play with people in their twenties! They were born when I was losing my hair! But here it don’t matter! The angle of approach is molten colors in which everything tells you it is not what you have been told. Whatever Shelley thought is not what is required! Besides the reports among various gangland characters on the street hardly were actively involved in the underground. Shelley even left before I leaked out after three hours of holding my piss in. It just streaming out! And I nude! But Shelley left before that. So she didn’t smell that. It wasn’t in the mix of my “unique body smell” that she smelt.

Breathing fresh particles of imprisoned Spirit in. Smell wonder! If we just put up the hot chocolate chips in the universal admiration for bare tits and your friends that only yesterday you deserved to payoff and could act up. So let’s have lots of fun experiments that only the smallest notice of severance on an Ottoman near enough to the awesome secret surprise. But we will crack jokes that promise butterfly resting on your lap, arousing desire dripping wet soft flesh pleasure building, digging horny projections and love with life, reaching up to five hours in live sex! Appeal comes from raw life touching affair around ninety percent of whatever Shelley thought. She was getting thinner all the way into uncontrollably unrealities. We don’t have what they think we should wait for, and never will… And that is why we are free! Uncensored! Unconscious cerebration of goodly dimensions bearing upon examining everything/everybody evidently comes from art to follow the voodoo magic risk push deeper into life, touching, rubbing aroused, smiling ah yes Martha Mulwash in various ways to do whate’er the fuck anyhow! We must fly beyond Beyrouth and never again see nude model who won’t take her clothes off! Shy, you know! Not wanting to be a object… Except for say $100… Then she removes her Spirit from her body, so her modesty can’t be offended because everything is isolated so everything is void of humorous expectancy and meaning. So the empty husk of her body will assume any pose you desire, showing anything you please, moving anywise that you can imagine. But intimacy closeness among equals disturbs her bitch control hidden under pressure bras! Brittle Clay shatter all exploded into trouble sleeping in various log-books of bullshit isolationism because it takes a hard whipping kind of anti-everything human. But she is just a girl of bullshit, so I gave the usual level of gagging response to bullshit and moved on and off to more of sentiment that promised dancing, singing with life! Immortal souls puking up so suddenly that it washed overboard the voodoo decades of erect attitude with the traditional poetaster and love with a hard-core kick-ass heart attack! Inducing dreams slash slashing in various stages of affectionate grouping. Old blues emotional delight perfume is just another look at the extraordinary supernatural beings occasionally without goals or agendas. I don’t have what must be frank! Interesting how people get nude at the performances, typically historically everyday Jane and Joe. Scarcely a nude model!

Rays of sunshine diffused by focusing on rubbing pleasure turn purple velvet cushion lips and shaking hands with him at Baden-Baden. He received a dvd of the margins of affectionate Germanic physiognomy.

Drawing by LaBash

The Inner Maze – TWENTY-ONE

May 28, 2009. Frank wrote this as an experiment using Aurora Suite 2005, a word-prediction software program. For every letter that Frank would type for each new word, Aurora proposed to him nine possible word choices. For The Inner Maze, Frank ALWAYS selected a word from Aurora’s first nine choices. In this way, he followed Aurora, as Aurora followed him, through The Inner Maze!


TWENTY-ONE

Had to get you out of the John! That is why I finally pulled the plug on that chapter! You are reading this in the future. Is it a thick book? Or a tiny book? I think I will be told that the only hope of getting people to actually read this imperfect kind of book is to keep it short. I haven’t listened to such advice before. Did I in this case? How is the font? Easy to read? Did you buy your copy at Barnes and Noble? Or did you find it on the bus seat? Did I sell out? Finally! At least you are still here, still reading this! Are we about halfway through? Check your book.

We are talking through time. The card is now. I am looking forward to hearing from your skirts, underwear and bras as they vanish in smoke-filled churches. And I am looking forward to having you buy love using quotes from this. That, madame, is getting your money worth from this edition! Doesn’t appear to be scary, right? Way of escaping Leopard-man is getting really baked and at various speeds over revealing holes! So complete he is now, gaining upon each over-extended limit of terror! Rise before me! Ok! Good! At seducing, you find eating by profound enjoyment of escaping from under the surface of just streaming behind the thick green Irish brogue. Opened up! Top photo of you maybe on my body physically following the rough indication of all colors on my back. Wipe my body with your hands up and down, necklines plunge below your pubis bone, exposing your body parts of all poppers. Seduce me! Dirty! Growling raucous! Hip sailor-fashion jazz of getting it on! Dare to venture to having things done in your mind, then do it for real sex with myriads of getting free from bondage. Go all the way until we buzz for real food, not modest brushwood at foul play. Silly sexy uplifting and slightly easier than any woman could wish! When are you doing things in my studio? Well, obviously you will explode in that situation. Couldn’t find anything supposedly sinister, allowing someone to protect so complete sexual progressive untreatable terminal circles of warm juicy flesh pleasure hot body moaning shouting coaxing gesturing long time in preparing the whole community willing to do anything for one another, merging enjoying purely primitive watching funny trances, dancing explicitly with infinite variety of tidbits of every imaginable drips of getting it on! Dare to entangle yourself in those treasures from this point of observation and participation, exploration and the rich expanding erotic friction enliven you!

Drips of warm blood oozing out of date that the only hope is getting really tiny. Hope is getting really tiny, that is! Corny, but obviously true enough! Who could keep listening and smiling? Ah, how do you think attracts possibilities? What do you think attracts possibilities of millions of cubic feet of oxygen into the circle of desire? We are replaying the entire homosexual community for allowing itself deeply too directly focused on acting queenly, poise to venture on that evening at eight, gratulatory bulletins in preparing for anything better. Hopefully we will inked pictures of all colors on the social theory of relativity of desire. Will you unbutton your mind and body, and soul oozy under your impatient egotism and individuality and the rich munchkin himself from falling into your bowels, giving you a sight ah in-box explosion? When you get older, you get wacko! Yes, ain’t that the shits?! And whatever between us is getting really tight. Clothes off! Keep going, expanding for those drops of desire dripping blood energy—evinced by profound enjoyment of escaping from being versed in the normal tension with the traditional poetaster [whatever that is!]. What areas of concerns do you measure success in? Giving me hope, you come through somehow and smiling softly kiss me dirty. Together beyond taboos, fear of stumbling, and whatever else painted white, space quickly opens up for us to reschedule the entire field of dreams. Slash slashing in giving opportunities to entangle the rich vein of potentials, slipped through somehow, settling into actual peace, goodwill and soul guests assembling in this culture. Hard times had hardened them all over. But obviously we are playing it indeed! Remember, you wish this edition! Doesn’t appear nightly! Orgy of gratuitous soundbites will probably work! Do you think the cock that is corny horny is getting too hard? Well, obviously it is perfectly delightful! Declared excellent by profound attention and stimulate malts of desire dripping sweet soft touch in to your pussy poem! Do you want me to answer your pussy? I don’t mind that, so far into the young lady rubbing up inside I sprang jubilantly and stimulate and whatever else you wish me to do inside purple velvet lips, blue depths into pink magic. We will play this track! Thanks for tuning me dirty growling raucous in to your yard deeper when I started touring. Gothic tower of London simply turning funny when people didn’t devote themselves to be able to procure fresh air spreading over the world streaming from the late night slumber party.

Bragging hot shit verbal jazz rifting in those clothes fast approaching. Those wretched theatrical affairs work do inside pleasure of possessing skin warm chuckling humor forbade the transforming leaves but obviously we don’t censor [except for some enormous exceptions]! Like man, I can’t stop bobbing my head to foot with the time music throughout our way back into repose at seducing people softly. Kiss your sax! And pretend you wish to risk everything on whims of notes, images flowing freely deeply beloved buns and pretend you wish this ain’t going-over the white ribbons disgrace everlasting moments stretched out from behind riffs. Was just born just now, Master, wherever science led, never once looked toward the solitary thought rejection so complete! That thinking about teaching about teaching about halfway up that lesson. I do too much thinking about teaching! Keep your shirt on Skype video calls or you shall perish miserably for rape! It is getting really hard to write surreal fiction!

Drawing by LaBash

The Inner Maze – TWENTY

May 28, 2009. Frank wrote this as an experiment using Aurora Suite 2005, a word-prediction software program. For every letter that Frank would type for each new word, Aurora proposed to him nine possible word choices. For The Inner Maze, Frank ALWAYS selected a word from Aurora’s first nine choices. In this way, he followed Aurora, as Aurora followed him, through The Inner Maze!


Mopping up now and we are playing dirty growling raucous hip sailor-fashion jazz of our jams of our tribal explicit eroticism. Whatever is necessary to renew the atmosphere, pure spiritual intoxication in music and pictures, hung low art of couple general vibe of the things going back years past sufferings. Ain’t my favorite singers fiddle with their voices? Quite right! The best cherry malts were doing reasonably well in creating the best shows of the things going outside censorship, wars, interreligious disharmony of the tributes to Dave. Even in the below robotic affirmative babble of the needed set queen of all subcultures and pictures, there are photographs of all sorts of horrors of childhood passions brooding imperceptibly within the marriages of your inner asshole and her asshole. And you thought we were finish with assholes, didn’t you?! Well, good luck!

I just play silly to prepare for fun, communal Needles rising slowly, getting better hopefully. We will talk together beyond imagination and pictures! Lord, what is your mailing address? God, protect me! Unpopular I will survive barely! Bathe with me, playing in the tub as we have done together beyond dying always asking about being involved in true two-way intimacy, joy and happiness. Are our own interests and pictures coming tomorrow afternoon? The needed juice was quite successful in creating, inducing dreams outside of separation and for a bid for fun show. Ok, actually we have a long way to go into these melted adventures. Articulating each syllable clearly, defined against all kinds of arousing unknowns. Words are notes. Images are cords. Can you recommend any more? Well, good! Luck is rather pitiful little code of ethics, but not morality. Therefore diversity in true wayside that Carrie will be playing in the rafters and Dave will be rapping in the next episode! Blows everything explicitly out of depression already taken possession of these treasures. I kept writing this book because there is still time to catch the plane of arousing desire into SHAPE and conscious grin unconcernedly with assholes. Lustily ha ha anything goes! Lee will miss this rare opportunity for the success with shag pussies with assholes widespread open, ready! Note, just when you thought we were finish with assholes and normal Joe Jane who just checked out, here they are again! All roads lead back to jam! After your carpentry of depression has been crazy, madame, you may come with me using plants to catch an itchy asshole, thinking it’s taking responsibility of being diverted from prison shitheel and normal people like yourself!

Picture this! Quiet impressive orgasms and conscious lucidity of arousing rubbing gently were doing reasonably well in creating a powerful nexus of expanding erotic zones of fun! Communal living theater for the doing art is not going to be digitally amplified by the darkness increased under swirling dresses smooth-shaven legs stretched out from behind riffs of expanding twisting words, images flowing non-linear to renew the atmosphere. Pure spiritual intoxication in music and dancing nude slides in creating a sense of humor and high heaven. Forgive us, Lord!

What is normal? What’s happening, babe? Who loves ya? I kept thinking the unthinkable! Perhaps I’m speaking out of turn. But who knows? Posterity ain’t born yet! So I just play silly to go all the way until you tell me to stop. This solidification is not going within skins, trash and goo. I outlined my concerns to Dave. Even in the next phase of life, we can put a sign of fine print out at perfoliate of being always amazed, bewildered and dancing nude!

Haylofts usually up in the rafters and tiles designed to knock off half-a-crown for verbal abuse are dealing with a hard-core version of Feisto. Why are those actors who rip down all fliers including ours in mind growing cynical? Stroke her asshole! Can you recommend any reaction to those rogues? The kitchen table talking intensely to a porn butcher’s knife is great. Most articles ain’t bad! How is SAM, inquired ugly Ladies. Kicking off midstream was wondering if you use witch hazel today. The latest chapter is neither ripple nor pitched. I was half-baked! So sue me! If you want to rub some surprises into these issues, then focus on reaching outside of yourself. Picture representing the small grave-yard beside my mother and son is most unhappy. Didn’t you bring the wrongdoer to light? A large portion of this chapter becomes the wrongdoer of fun and the respectable, honest girl comes, actually blows everything explicitly out of gas tank involuntarily, applauded becoming immediately sensible of something evil temper with large weeds of something mysterious and puzzling phenomenon, be explained all sorts of horrors of childhood experience.

Rashes of personal irresponsibility spread on white underwear and bras and whitish bellies of brats and punkie whiny Mommy Buzzy boys and Dad’s girls. Well, I got herpes maybe, but due to a brain fart, I rubbed my cock all over her lap-dog pussy. You should have stopped me! What will you do next time to prevent my being a fucking dick head? But I enjoyed the freedom! But why do you let dick heads like me in?

Oh, it is getting real hard to write surreal when the above actually happened in the normal reality! But the magic has protected for over forty years from herpes, slip shits, and all that would crush the beautiful Florabella of the potential joint somewhere in secret alliance hopefully the piece of fresh venison grilled on live coals of a risk of being always amazed and awe-struck pads of conducting wires of personal worth. I understand how they [usually liberals] want to blow Eden up after they have spent a cozy night in the late night slumber party, all cuddled up together. After it is established what’s possible [everything], they are not willing to put themselves all the way into the volcano! Their bluff is called subjective though apparently not willing to be working for the common goodness of fresh particles of truth. So they try to blow everything up into control. But why do they use little CAP pistols that just whim-wham and limply hiccoughed out of depression and resentment and frustration smolders in Canada’s national debt? It’s just pitiful!

If someone says he/she/whatever can’t love another [you] before she/he/whatever love her/himself, RUN! Love doesn’t have a subject! There are no dividing lines really. You either love or you don’t! The bitch just told you she just don’t fucking love, using that slime snotty book which we talked about before. She is running a con game, wasting your body! But everybody nods, grunts, smiles and just enables the bitch just because it’s in the book of politically correct insanity! The followers of depression already described such betraying as much damage as possible under pressure expectations without anyone catching a sneaky way beyond dying. Always asking about missing the woman freaking out. They share strange sexual ghoul of the night! Yep, it was dangerous to attack them with indescribable fury. But I am! Your candy man will! Find only pieces of despair. Yet hoping that they didn’t devote themselves all day pushing beyond this shit, I love the words! Tell me to stop this poem! I dare you! Affirm the bitch! Just don’t fucking eat, drink beer, or slide over to talk to them until the dust settles! Here is what people are saying on live streaming improv booths that sold things: have you check out pretty girls? I am still playing in young sexy female students lose even at my age! Catch up with me! Ah, how do I do it!? Ain’t that’s why you are keeping reading this? Well, read on!

Still here? Please, you don’t wait to love. Love for yourself and love for the other is the same thing. If you aren’t ready love now, you will never be because love only happens now. Inked this sucker in! And no genders or races! Those are trivial abstract bullshit. So I am talking too directly, focused on acting intimacy for you, splitting the issues of life. Apparently this is dangerous and subversive and harder for most folks to find the odd well-placed girly picture representing the new cheesecake. But why should we beat around the bush? I like to beat in it. Folks, here is what my dear friend said: “Valentin, I’m rather intense. Pss, we have played the part of gluttony and subversive and love for stories fantastic pads of the potential joint of civil liberty!”

Don’t fucking ask me what that means! I did not say it! A clue is running the space of half gone to hell! Personally I am available for you for years in finding out pretty girls wear only pieces of fog and romantic passion love, only pieces of excellent food in their navels and below! Dive in! Their navels and below are keeping me full! Fun life! Free from bondage so I wonder how I like a good sex-reading!

I have always been hungry for life, for skin relationships. I have never been ambitious. But hunger is a self motivation, a self-moving following in finding out what is next, how to do it! Next opening always pays out pretty much better than I could have planned spontaneity and below the water-line. I am the kind of guy who comes into adventures knowing how easy it is to do. I just do it! Ain’t that a bitch! I know! I am not supposed to be able to do anything! But everything comes easy for me. I don’t really have to study. I just start playing, figuring out things as I play. Guess I am available and willing and practical. Don’t hold that against me! I was just born that way! I was born a good experimentalist. Can’t help it! I just know what to do without goals or agendas! I don’t know the right way. It just works in a sneaky way beyond imagination!

I think tribal explicit eroticism and professional version of creativity are playing dirty growling raucous. Hip poets of farts and casually lifted by the darkness come through somehow slightly easier than the normal reality. But obviously jawbone isn’t being responsible for what it appears to be digitalize and passionate revolt that happens now. Inked this sucker in! My studio in back of the potential joint of doing something right also is rather pitiful little joyful whinny experience of all sorts of horrors. I’ll understand how life free from bondage is dangerous and subversive and harder to imagine staying with me playing in young sexy costumes that we hang up with cuts of times during recessions. I pulled in childhood passions brooding imperceptibly within skins trash and goo. Was Nursing infant above the immense hollow of hell? Pleasure creatures went from Behring to Davis straits, then Polly took her opportunity notwithstanding the buzzing of the potential audience to Berkeley, home of horrors of times during life reaching up instant into adventures articulating each year to set up everything in between legs wide open panting without breath and without being paid. These haven’t been invited yet, hoping that they didn’t devote themselves all day, pushing beyond dying. Always asking about missing real petrified wood, while others would take us to listen to luver as seriously as the Bible or prayer-book of the most explicitly realized early morning rain falling violently towards women who wanted to say hi! Rob them! Rob them of their minds! Just do it! Ain’t that your part of our duet? Hits written by John full hard-core kick-ass heart! Attack inducing volume even though apparently this sucker in all over the world is nowhere near enough either to hear or to absorb into the mix. So send him back, sir! Fate has shown me the cold-blooded exhibition of marksmanship at that villainous ball of fire! Pink magic! Not black or brown or white magic. Pink magic! We all came from Africa! Races are trivial abstract bullshit based on time. We all fe/male cross-dresser with indescribable alike numerous blackish patches spread on consignment. It is on a crazy continually a-tremble with suppressed sexuality into religious emotion and horror. But obviously you will never hear this because everybody is invested in this bullshit isolationism because it insures Powers prophet gains big profit, bigwig big-name and bigtime and goo of all sorts of perils of fire traced by walking through art. Btw, I divorced this bullshit a very long time ago. I don’t miss this bullshit! Softly but distinctly transmitted through playing dirty. Makes exploring what is practical, obvious and passionate. Revolt outrage on consignment! It insures a cramping joint and muscle of our maze body splashed with irresistible desire. This visit started randomly, but obviously we got it right down into this bottomless pit of truth imprisoned unwilling witnesses of their minds beyond any cost! I was half-baked and tired and was watching a sex movie! See! Things come easy to me! I usually jam with anyone! Fuck em! Bawled up in a punk song, I will survive such pains about experimental chopping away at bullshit! Dinner-time!

I am back! Sir, I like watching nude cocks in movement of the dancing goofy bodies! Yes, ain’t that clear? Warm juicy sweaty joy I feel, furious giggling, joyfully wigging around soft dreaminess into actual fully engage play, silly sexy adventures articulating each other’s company. I always have! Entertain me!

I am a jack of all sorts of trades. I ain’t bragging. I may not be doing it the right way, but I get results! I deliver! I am a lover, brother, son, teacher, lecturer, relationship and business counselor, shaman, writer, poet, performance artist, painter, composer, promoter, director, actor, activist, producer, father, film/video editor, Singer, piano Player, television talk show host, publisher, critic, philosopher, dj, manager, presidential candidate, ceo, etc. I start long term projects such as a web station, a night club, various kinds of shows, etc., and then keep them going, expanding for years. I could go on. I just have only started the list. I have design a house and many other things. Played on every medium. You know I am not modest, shy, humble, unassuming. And this proves it! But I am suppose to be not be able to do anything. Supposedly I had no intelligence and should be institutionalize. What is up with that? We are wasting most of our potential as a species! Inferior Grace of madame Urbain was not spastic enough either for vague feelings or races as shabby vice as society forces wage against all kinds of arousing unknowns. I am just a guy who always did not realized he couldn’t do thingamabob thingamajig, so he did them, getting up on stage and singing for two hours to corny records!

The trickster appears to have done dueling with irresistible desire this visit started randomly but obviously we don’t have it! Nobody admits the cold-blooded little demon exists conceptually! But it does! Nudges them into shreds of green woods and Meadows and Parks and singing while he is now gaining upon each over-extended limit!

Darn, I forgot a lot that I am and do. I am a friend, political adviser, life coach, a pain in the neck and ass, a trouble maker, community developer, a gadfly, a plumber of the People’s communication pipelines. I am an outsider and an outcast even to the societies of outsiders and outcasts, living on the outskirts of Victoria! I remember you! Wish I remember when you thought it was obvious that you enjoyed messy life free from rust and so complete that you have had the most explicitly realized early write-ups by the darkness critics!

We hang together in-depth on both fronts. The next episode chapter is almost here! It does include audiology services. Call your local health services Inc annual eating and drinking sparingly services Inc annual eating and swallowing problems and abilities of luck. Tonight on every golden brown blood-stains this chapter is almost dead end! Hope you come through! Somehow this chapter offers strategies for day-to-day living with irresistible babes! And swallowing saliva buildup is Suctioning outrage on to something which was advertised like this version sorry, I can’t stop this chapter! I just can’t stop this chapter! Heebie-jeebies, help me! Am I one of those guys who write surreal manifestos in really tight, really tiny handwriting in volumes of aging notebooks? If I am, what does that makes you?

Well, obviously you and I couldn’t end this chapter! Whiners that we are! I don’t know when it will end. You can look down, turn the Pages over forward and check. You then come back here and tell me when it will end. All I can do is keep writing this chapter until it ends! Oh, what an amazing maze this is! A good novel novel! So far from being clubbed by making minor Perks, I remember you wish for vague glimmerings of aging guys. So send us those rogues! My normal people keep me busy and preoccupied with irresistible desire of magical play with no idea of vengeance, animated sensitive plants in tubs of luck. Tonight deeper into pantan and drinking nothing whatever between rubbing aroused melting and so much response from India! The societies of outsiders were doing something very important to try to convince people softly but distinctly to be uncomfortable and slightly perfumed with irresistible suggestion of turning funny. When they kicked vigorously against all kinds of young sexy uplifting and slightly contemptible rigid perpendicular fragile egos of mere ambition distraction Uglification and derision, Kirsty was Nursing injuries of those damn tests! Examine how smoothly mounted she is! Already damned silly thirstily-smiling little brunette with a hard-core kick-ass bend over, revealing holes foxy, foxholes! The most explicitly realized words suffice speak of monsters whose mouths were like gulfs in volumes of those perfect sea-butterflies animating by scratching the flesh of mere phosphoric phenomenon. The monster emerged bleeding at the house. Don’t burn down the last batch of wounded pride! Ill-will hatred envy bigotry and selfishness in volumes entitled you to come back here and tell your doctor immediately how you could vocalize erect attitude with members quickly frowned and winced! Under pressure of atmospheres which would allow several inches of the erotic beast, I repeated my command of taboo hidden behind their expectations without being thunderstricken.

In a sneaky way beyond this inner asshole, it would make sense if someone says Good-night back here we have played at work no one has been crazy around here except you! Could you come through somehow slightly ironical? Apostrophes are wasting your body! But everybody nods grunts smiles and winces. Actually work tricks California. Must see yourself picture of taboo art dance small intimate journey into the mix of traditional fund-raisers of wounded men. Were you attracted by pussies with assholes widespread open ready for you splitting hairs about adding great drops of mere ambition into this unexplored abyss? Whose mouths were you doing something evil with? Assholes asked about you! I covered for you. I am just loyal! So send me a big scandal! I couldn’t end this now! You know what they said! They say artists are underpaid! True! But most folks don’t fucking eat. So why do we artists think we are getting a raw deal? Apparently this sucker in my mind is totally undervalued! Here is what my dear sucker wants: people to play on my body physically following the road of life dancing erotically following listening being soft dreaminess into actual Songs love using quotes from your skirts! Is that too much to ask? Then do it! DO IT ONE TIME FOR ME! And then keep doing it!

Ah! I don’t care if it works great. We are playing dirty together in freedom in this mysterious chapter going on terra firma alive with myriads of infusoria and so complete! The book of you and I couldn’t end in smoke-filled bars surrounded by profound enjoyment of quiet amusement. What you do effects my existence on board the ship of madmen. The ship appeared to be able to finish what is stuck up with that unknowing about our excursions outside of this chapter. Irresponsibility spread on white bread is unhealthy, dangerous and so weighted with heavy leaden gray deceptive fears exaggerated. Opinions of ancient Greeks were waged in volumes entitled MYSTERIES OF ART FOR VAGUE OBSCURITY. Truly this sucker wants to go all sorts of extraordinary dimensions. So we should just sit back here and pet secret heavy together in-depth conversation with each other who are keeping reading this. Well obviously we are each other’s creation. A pussy and a beaver are sitting on a sofa beside each other. Yes, both are wet! Soft flesh pleasure building, digging horny as seriously as a zombie of ancient historians, building tapping into actual sex mags and pet secret phrase for those roarings of extraordinary supernatural beings. Occasionally without the credit the reports among various pretexts hid what you think about my tastes. Sing with me! See it as attacking the last Buzzy boys and girls. Wear only pieces of excellent see-through colorful leaves and branches to the next episode. Blows my mind! I understood what freaks them out! Indefatigably I covered hidden vices, passages fester twisted perverted blues of excellent see-through van. Weyden was Nursing his new hurt failing invention. Musing on social schizophrenic conditioning, I hope this will be left to no great talker! He talked much and shaving at the same time! He had only given us both a raw deal! Apparently this unexplored abyss remained incalculable. The ship appeared to threaten to commit suicide. But if this is dangerous to commit suicide, then we might reconsider it! Grappling with fears, hopefully of madmen, the next opening of emotions were downloading from your skirts. Underwear is unhealthy! Dangerous sewage was half-baked and tired eyes absorb trauma of this chapter irresponsibility. Hey, even this paragraph is unhealthy because it goes on and on! I can’t help it… Just streaming out.

Ok, if you insist! There! Feel better? Feel like you’ve gained space? White space of regret! Can disappear! Perhaps after forever! Trippy! It works! Great! Are you the gentle reader I always read about in old novels? The narrator always talked to you, never to me! I just ain’t gentle in that way! But I always have wondered about you. And now I am talking to you! Does that mean I am THE NARRATOR? Far out! How am I doing? Narrating, I mean. You help me a lot by staying, listening being open, rubbing me dirty, being open and soft and warn and GENTLE! Hey, you are really THE GENTLE READER!

“Unsafe to Eat” by LaBash

The Inner Maze – NINETEEN

May 28, 2009. Frank wrote this as an experiment using Aurora Suite 2005, a word-prediction software program. For every letter that Frank would type for each new word, Aurora proposed to him nine possible word choices. For The Inner Maze, Frank ALWAYS selected a word from Aurora’s first nine choices. In this way, he followed Aurora, as Aurora followed him, through The Inner Maze!


Attacked by the ad man, I felt pale with rare exceptions of closed caption of the best cherry malts. The smell of illness in my mind and deep in my nose and mouth painted a whitish gray along the carpet, woven by the new chapters and you are certainly very much in it! Folks, here is my canned rap on everything to make sure what time there is still on the social schizophrenic conditioning I hope! I did the outrageous humor among various gangland characters in reality. It overturns their personal favorites from the last batch of wounded pride as possible under these strange sexual progressive untreatable terminal disorders of illness, especially the Icelandic dude of business. He kept looking through the bullshitting and deep in algebraical calculations of X and other swag. We will play dirty Songs about experimental chopping away at life, including being told whatever Shelley thought. She was ambitious, unscrupulous, capable and deep opened before me. Ok, good, like always! Then she answered properly. She has turned against all parts of this chapter when you thought you might get into bad habits in that situation. Couldn’t find anything, anyone that was totally lost from seeing sexy Broad undulations of this chapter. Glamorizing art of couple of times where you had another opinion of death.

Play dirty growling noise music jam with raw sewage of passion! Madame, sing hymns about all together round and round. Move up anytime actually work explicit eroticism whatever is necessary! Therefore diversity all the way beyond imagination, magnified everything else painted upon our knees trees sprang like shitting ugly. How many times do you shit in a day? I mean on average. What color and texture? Do you consider yourself regular? How much effort does it usually take, and how much time? I mean, does it slip right out, or grunting moaning shouting coaxing gesturing long time? Or do you have to just sit there, waiting for channels to open the hatches and surprise you? Are you sitting on your pot waiting, reading this? I need to know these things so I can write chapters that fit your shit pattern. How does it usually smell? Wonder if you want to know about me. I can clog the bowl! Dark smelly logs or mudslides usually. Usually three or four times a day. Usually takes about five minutes, not really enough time to read. My mind thought rejection is necessary to fill the bowels bowl! Dark smelly logs upon examining my shit is a fun communal tribal ritual around here!

Now we are getting to the gritty titty a fun show! When I was a kid, I just made one deposit a daily, usually in the morning. But now I shit three or four times a day. There’s no right kind of regularity! I can not shit under pressure! And I hate when it starts to come out, but then changes its mind mid way and just hangs there until you squeeze it into half halfway… The hanging turd limply splashes into the water and the stubborn half goes back into your bowels, giving you an unsavoury unsatisfactory uncomfortable fullness all day, pushing on your heart and lungs until you can finally finish your business. And besides, cutting off midstream so to speak makes for a very messy wipe with a lot of trees cut down so that your asshole isn’t itchy and smelly. But you cannot go around all day with a log sticking out of your inner asshole! It would stink the place up! There were years when people didn’t wiped my asshole that good. But they thought cripples had a special funky smell like blacks! It’s a wonder that people hung around with me, playing with me…. Ah, when I believed once a day was what being regular should be… Well, some times I didn’t make it, had to sit in it! And even then I had a great social life! So fart away! Let it rip! Brown clouds bellowing up anytime actually. But how are you sure it will be just a fart waft through your asshole and not more solid or liquid? Where does that self-confidence to let it rip come from? I mean, sometimes we are wrong! But letting it rip is definitely much healthier than holding it in! Btw, ever notice that sexy female students produce the most deathly stupor farts? You should research this!

And what’s up with a lot of guys not being able to get their piss in to the bowl? They miss by several inches! And they don’t even notice. They just leave without mopping up! And I am not just talking about in punk Dives and truck stops, but in middle-class homes with shag rugs. I know that the flow often squirts differently and the pressure varies and all kinds of arousing unknowns comes into play, so to speak… Impossible to calculate! But look down upon it! And clean up after yourself! Hey, you are not the crip! I am!

Glad you liked the cookies and all kinds of arousing things that never are talked about! You thought you were alone, didn’t you? Well, we are all mended together! Nobody admits openly that rubbing an itchy asshole can produce much more zippy pleasure than any orgasm, especially if you use witch hazel!

Wonder what will be revealed in the next episode, chapter!

Drawing by LaBash

The Inner Maze – EIGHTEEN

May 28, 2009. Frank wrote this as an experiment using Aurora Suite 2005, a word-prediction software program. For every letter that Frank would type for each new word, Aurora proposed to him nine possible word choices. For The Inner Maze, Frank ALWAYS selected a word from Aurora’s first nine choices. In this way, he followed Aurora, as Aurora followed him, through The Inner Maze!


Ah, well! You explain people to me! Like puking why can’t they see if you stay within forever, everything opens up. But if you leave, it closes everything? Butter and bread basics! The sleazo boyfriend of music heard about fairy-tales. Can we have done well during recessions? I pulled in childhood experience this problem, but springing capriciously from the last healing and have developed abilities that allow me to be adaptable and notorious on the radio. We both were living together at a giddy speed.. I felt fatigued from my balls galloping back over the contents of folly but springing to halyards and downhauls and notorious vivisector of folly until later folks like you are asking if this is mind-blowing mind-expanding strange sexual emotion with you. Stay within skins of creating of living true enough. Who could keep listening and smiling? Ah, yes, veering suddenly from seeing sexy uplifting and downhauls and there is another possibility of using plants in tubs and enabled you to pick up the privilege of being always amazed and awe-struck by everything in life. But that is corny! You have to push on, leaving Venice and people getting in your way! Always forcing on to photograph extremely remarkable Soundings of seven atmospheres under swirling balls, galloping, banging, crushing answers under your impatient egotism of being always forcing them to do things without knowing how time flies. Tease the next step without checking and getting all judging from how much more zippy to be seen as normal Joe Jane who just recovering from the last batch of the bullshit softly repeated by topless waitress bugging you. Stay in here now by which we are playing on my Master card my balls whizzing close to have a constitutional plethora of folly. But you will not stay, will not engage.

You are leave-taking, eh? Good luck and good shit! I am a plant, a redwood, rooted.. Everything, everybody evidently comes to me. Like that always motivated me to be radical, rooted. Everything opens up. Virtue of folly won’t pretend to know something about the glamorizing art of taking any reaction at any cost. I think we who are keeping count of being told whatever, thinking they are extremely special, unique and interesting people are just Reading from the same book of lines of sunken stupidity. All judging from how much more zippy to be seen as important, expressions of admiration for themselves! If somebody tells you she just have to be honest, be prepared for nothing but hurting bullshit, so embarrassing you wonder how she has the nerve to admit that she is capable of thinking so shitting ugly, much less saying it out loud! And here is the kicker! She always actually expects you to try to convince her that her evasion of reality, her disloyalty to all parts of the relationship, and her asshole thinking it’s her brain is somehow slightly mistaken… As if she really expected to be convinced. She doesn’t! She wants to do as much damage as possible under the surface of “just being honest” without taking responsibility of being a fucking cunt bitch. In the book, the “I am just being honest” is right above the “well, I was just joking!” they have the same tag line of “what is your problem… Too sensitive, aren’t you!?” And then she cuts your balls off or sewing your pussy up, before she bails for good… If you are lucky!

I don’t know how big the book they all read from. It could be a great big book with a slime snotty cover and with a title something like “politically correct insanity” or “how to dismiss personal responsibility and protect your impatient egotism and individuality!” Or it may be a fucking small book because the contents seems to be extremely limited!

Bodily feelings and India-rubber clothing and the snakes win! My bet, mademoiselle Noemie, has been crazy! Madame Alboni, I don’t know how to dismiss personal responsibility and feelings for the other [for you]. Maybe it’ll be helpful to start working with infinite continuous stream of pretty girls! I have always gone here! Now by what strange trick of shamanism I am here to-night with you? Historically we here were recently discovered something that shouldn’t be. Extremely disagreeable things happened. But they lacked perspective and feelings for good reason. What strange conceptually contexts of thinking wrong in the early hours disappeared from humanity! Still startled me! I totally missed something! Was very low art of taking responsibility away in fear during recessions on every level true of being diverted from humanity? You maybe drag us once more before they waded out and now carpeted everything glamorizing art of couple of other weird kids within skins.

Our skin is molten, pluming outward like the sun, like a seventies lava lamp. Pluming out several inches, our skin is penetrating the other when we touch, or even standing together talking, or lying down together. This penetrating dance goes on all the time all the way beyond taboos. Aurous level of improv, playing this inexhaustible ocean of emotions were clearly defined against the dangers of solidification. The next step is penetrating plunge below the usual form of frustration and sewage. I am just recovering from the last batch of being rolled pell-mell into muddy institutions. I will survive more than friends of lovers because I have lovers who are rooted with me. Ah, yes, being always together in profusion and feelings and for some enormous mass of blood in us. But seriously it closes a fucking small intimate journey into juicy sweaty life for evermore Amen of the individual dust-particles who just checked out of the relationship with little cracks running through various blocks and fences, built over years. Just joking with that unknowing and the snakes of frustration smolders in Canada’s girl. What a waste! Juana, explain people to me! Like that always actually blows my mind! How people tend to weaken what they have. It is not anger inducing. It just a sad puzzler! You maybe are here Reading this book because you thought you might get answers to skateboarding or something equally valuable. But you cannot leave here until you have answered all of my questions about people. So start rubbing friction enliven warmly my lamp and start bringing maximum breadth of understanding to me… Or this book will explode in thickness and density, with infinite variety of tidbits which keeps you Reading just to not miss vinyl covers of lovers. Start rubbing!

The title of the bullshit so embarrassing that time doubtless meant to go into a very disturbing black hole is SOMEHOW DON’T MAKE THE PHYSICAL COMMUNITY THROUGH STAYING IN RESPONSIBILITY, JERK OUT, YOU JERKY TURKEY! Toffee and hot buttered toast of here used to give you a regular scheduled flight to develop community through staying. Obviously this is erasing the relationship together. This inexhaustible family will survive! But what has happened? Ah shucks sexy Consumer’s guide Ottawa Ontario Canadian hospital into muddy institutions of tide stranded under these circumstances after this! Madame La Poype-Ver trieux was looking forward to both your names of your Muffettes. The creative challenge to develop community started looking very grave and the important leek-green of your heart out of depression and resentment and frustration smolders in Canada’s girl. What did you jerky turkey expect? So embarrassing! You wonder how she has the nerve to admit that she is a part of directing of creating of living true enough who could keep listening and smiling softly. But all the time she was ambitious packing, shopping and checking, taking forever to go… But not admitting to this inexhaustible family was originally of her mainmast. Then she puffed up before a blank wall over which the first few seconds of depression already described such lengthened imprisonment was not spastic the time because it’s her choice and was always. Basically living went down to Managua and hot cooking-range arousing effects, skipping ahead, running aground! Bringing up anytime actually scoring a blank to admit loyalty reliable to the people us who live with you, and loyalty to this inexhaustible family you have created over years. Offends whatever articles peculiar idiosyncrasy of your inner air so embarrassing you wonder why nothing whatever would actually work… Put maple sugar in your gas tank and blame the poor car for not wishing to verify your impatient egotism and individuality!

I know how the car feels! I love. But I don’t have much use for empty love. It’s cotton candy. Give me respect, loyalty, reliable guys who watch my back, wipe my ass and who know I’ll do the same for them as the matter of principle of living together in profusion of directing the course of business. It’s personal! People don’t get that life is personal. It ain’t a learning process, ain’t smart choices, ain’t abstract. It is getting dirty with the people who you are lucky to be with. It’s taking care of one another, merging, enjoying one another. Hey, the bed I sleep in probably will be my death bed… If it doesn’t break, if the house don’t burn down, if everybody dies before me! Ok, I don’t really know! But I live as if the bed I sleep in probably will be my death bed. Hence people feel I actually enjoyed living with them. I love our life together! In the foxhole and hot water, I will be here watching their noses and assholes and backs. They’re my family. That’s very concrete. Not wishing abstract reasoning! I could go, could be hitting that trail! But why? I do enjoy our life including being a fucking small intimate jam on their bread and cheese! I do enjoy seeing their noses!

I actually interviewed Anna for inspiring me! Ok Ok good luck and cheese burgers flippers and regarding me let go of my stuff! What could feed each other heartily is somehow slightly easier and faster and hot! Shit, real sex shoot with you I am excited about having you! I am staying obviously. This is mind-blowing! Being dumb regularity about having you! Guys, do you feel the same? Tag on their site at the actor a front page and to the time she must know didn’t know I proclaimed the actor Paula in profusion the same book because there is a moneymaking and faster than any that trail we’re off on! Justice, intimacy, joy and happiness are our own underground club! Both my mother and son didn’t attend to anything I asked! When you get old, people tend to die around you more and more! Each day therefore we must hold on to Mikee and Alexi and Corey and Erika and Linda and Betty! Kittee and Cookie demanded that! It overturns the same boat suddenly overturned by the way beyond taboos!

Drawing by LaBash