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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

The Inner Maze – SEVENTEEN

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!


SEVENTEEN

Strange sexual emotion gave me a lot to play with. The core of my work play in the cold was always basically for getting together with people in various ways and often kissing ladies’ bodies, melting into cream of natural curiosities of these issues of life. Taking it all beyond taboos. Jump into possibilities! Taste all pleasure and love and high ideals and everything else painted upon folds of skin. I can book you into my carnal reputation! It is everywhere everyday life, reaching outside censorship. This survey is going on, making mistakes. Oh, well! How do they know? Don’t care about macho risking. I just couldn’t live with those horrid bits of debris of shipwrecked fear. Where our butts are beautiful and tranquil, unsuspectingness of my face was transfigured and getting all the Canadian bacon into intimacy for when we have developed such clear and transparent glass partition, waiting actively involved in various stages of the screaming bedlam of women and children and invited several Persons, overhearing this chapter becomes strategically imperative and high up above the immense hollow of life. People think my work is all erotic pleasure and play with anyone to get turned on! Try being on the bottom on the pile of erotically skirmish bodies, some football players, some bony models, some lusty fleshy whales, some groping for agenda, some crying for new poetic furbelows of freedom intimacy and other indigenous productions of possibilities. I can tell you that this hurts! It’s worth it just to travel into intimacy together without checking and getting all judging and everything. But pain is not my way of breathing into hot cooking-range arousing turn on. And having my sentiments and motives questioned ain’t a joyful whinny experience. But the beautiful warm juicy sweaty rubbing pleasure of deep magic signified something fair is being revealed is why I do what I do. I never shock to shock/offend… Well except with assholes [ASSHOLES is a technical term]. But in general I never aim to shock/offend [or to please]. I just do what is called for, what’s happening during the piece, during life, reaching outside of boxes of comfortable zones. I’m willing to deal with any reaction to the art. The dealing becomes the art. Anything dreadful transported into cream and transparent Sheets of coiling like snakes and getting all the way beyond taboos.

Feisto doesn’t do anything with anything. We do together in our relationship with little fellah like fairy-tales to play with anyone to imagine staying the way beyond Europe and America. That forms a perfect tunnel under swirling dresses smooth-shaven legs and hairy legs thrust out wide-eyed widespread open, ready for sweaty life reaching up instant into possibilities taste them so charming pink roses, slits slots pussies whatever across his mouth. Grandpapa did slip Christmas Songs and sonnets and other nestle of erotically music for the private holidays. He wants you dearly today when somebody was one among others surrounding to travel to archive and expansions of deep stage of restlessness. I say more than I should! Read between the universal underground lines! Overhearing the magic words that are beyond the page and in a different language of willingness to ponder in freedom to the luminous atmosphere true enough who could keep listening and smiling. This opens doors that are beyond taboos. I read like this during my Reading Phase between 1963 and 1972. didn’t know I was preparing for anything. I am not ambitious, but more from curiosity about being involved in various states of every imaginable types of these treasures. I kept writing scripts with roles for me where I get the girl[s]! Read about experimental theater and performance theory plausible as possible and communication on air, revealing holes of softly-incisive nonsense that long waiting actively involved in true enough attempt to reach that point until the early morning when secretions have downloaded. I kept storing up everything in my body physically and back brain, becoming little something dirty growling of some cavity and communication between pieces of the everyday life. I didn’t know, didn’t have a plan, didn’t have a fixed ending, didn’t deny access to the core of what is happening at all times. Freak of nature on a dance ritual into intimacy, joy and gratitude of every gigantic bodies melting into cream. I simply didn’t go backward. I knew I did not want what’s in backward. So why go backward, even if it would be comfortable in assumed an extremely aged cadaverous face? And why try things that I saw didn’t work for other people? Obviously didn’t work for them as I observed them in various states of the times during the fucking thinking telepathic gem brimming over into hot water? So I avoided a lot of pitfalls, saving me a lot of time and trouble and vexation and energy of some terrible apprehensions. It is simply practical. But then Polly took such pains about experimental chopping away with her chirping, beeping and back again before our horror for free love. All what is practical, obvious and gratitude of tribally living was all covered hidden. But I just danced on with indefatigable clowns of yokes of jokes!

I never check if I still want to do what I wanted to do sometime before. Such checking takes three seconds or so, removing me from the dancing, causing jerking that isn’t much fun. I assume I’m doing what I want to do and will flow into the next step. I just do not care who does what, who desires what. If you really want me to do so much rubbing pleasure and we are a tribal body physically following in a deep dancing, it would be just plain silly to check if I want to rub you… Just as silly as eating my share of tiny sugar cookies, then eating all of them because there was not enough to share. Strange conceptually of sharing and locative desire and stretched out from our melted body. Moaning shouting coaxing gesturing and dying in the hunger of depression and resentment and frustration. I’m convinced there was nobody to push back and forth between pieces of despair. I felt them all with kindness, very inspiring and very true. We are still here! Please do send copies of sharing of tiny white sea clothing. I want you. John does reshape his body for me and I do the same for him. He answered as I directed him. After all, he is me. Mad hard strange man came to buy me and I can’t wait to mark in freedom active little man with his accordion and very graceful and wonderfully intense blue stripes swirling. Balls of life dancing erotically, following one another, merging in to one another sometimes lying hidden under ordinary conditions.

I can’t remember where we met in the beginning of our maze body splashed with letters of pure spiritual nonsense and drunk with the traditional fund-raisers of what is between this and that. So I may repeat things over and over again… But hopefully in different conceptually contexts. But I don’t know! I will type and will vocalize you ting-a-ling in to trances dancing erotically, following in our next generation of pure core of what is between two clouds. I don’t understand people. I understand how life works. Funny, the bimbo quit the rehearsal which contains over thirty cds of pure spiritual love and high heaven and the twelfth open ready note just when it was getting good, comin’ together. Why do people tend to leave when things are getting good? Shit attracts problems! Jane, will you unbutton all morality for me? And explain people to me? I totally missed something like crushed brick Walls which kept storing up those erratic blocks in your mind. In favour of awareness, we’ll play these tracks. But really I do not really know why. We two get such shit! We are watching funny trances dancing explicitly with infinite continuous stream of pretty impressive orgasms on the Colbert report. I am staying here. Are you? Fucking thinking telepathic, are you? Fucking baby indulging Throwing nuts at the purple velvet cushion lips and sliding warm juicy sweaty underfed drones. Trolleys filled with quiet conversation turned out to meet death with dignity. He decided to come and smoke alone for several centuries. I can’t remember what my brother told me. What is stuck up between your legs again? A very disturbing way to end this chapter!

Drawing by LaBash

The Inner Maze – SIXTEEN

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!


SIXTEEN

Sorry, I had to cut it short and scant and run to read the last few chapters at the Temescal. It is called life, outside of this novel and this extraordinary supernatural modality of a maze. But I am back with Little Fellah and my left hand Mike [the calm, level headed, smooth dude] and my right hand Ike [the high-strung, nervous, shy worrywart]… And other night-birds and other indigenous productions of this inner sandy pleasure building subversion of arousing desire and stretched out floating. Did you miss me? This novel is making the rounds at the stand-up joints, crack jokes that promise that you may come with little bells chiming.

Well, Mike always has had a special relationship with Little Fellah. Yep, I am left handed. Mike always has rubbed Little Fellah the right way… Well, rubbing raw, the salt of the loneliness sweat streamed down into red sores, mixed with sulphur pleasure. Paul Anka, Ricky Nelson, and Fabian stared down from the TEEN BEAT posters on my walls as I first discovered beating the meat after they pulled down my balls. I was thirteen in Germany. I was listening to better music on Radio Luxemburg. But those lame posters were all I could get Mom to put up. I was sneaking peaks at PLAYMATES OF PLAYBOY. But teen-age idols watched Mike rub blisters on Little Fellah for the first-nighter! After a time I learned the trick of one knee push ups when I was lying on my side, rubbing Little fellah on the cool Sheets of the bed. Much more accommodating and warm juicy. But that only worked when I was lying on my side. When I was lying on my back, it was Mike’s job! Mom Connie never commented about Little Fellah’s red blisters or the dry wrinkled stains on my pajamas and on my Sheets… Or about my wailing with the radio Luxemburg! But I wonder how I got the German maid to show me her tits in my bedroom. I couldn’t even speak German… In fact, I couldn’t even talk. Oh, those damn mysteries of art! She went on to rip us off! These symptoms now can invade the bed much more zippy and warm and moist farts and feeling rather intense.

I never understood the fad of jacking off. To me it was always filling hunger with Spam. I have not jerk off in over thirty, forty years. That doesn’t mean Mike and Little Fellah don’t have a special relationship together. Mike always is rubbing aroused smiling ah yes warm pleasure… However it is everywhere everyday activities deep magic signified nothing sexual, just playing feeling goodly dimensions of calmly happy, going nowhere, just in a state of elation. Feeling goodly happy. But Mike is rubbing aroused within me. It is not going within you, being curious about your ideas. It is not melting away with another soft dreaminess into actual Songs on whims exploring journey together, both electric spark from you and kinky live on communes. So it is a cool beer on a hot cooking-range. I have expectations without pictures and churches and the symptoms of human desires. I enjoy a beer, enjoy Mike rubbing Little Fellah, like enjoying purely primitive watching television. But there’s much more zippy and warm and tender conscience in my bedroom, lumber-room and valuable young lady endowed with great relish. Why settle for being so alone for several centuries? I can’t give up! I always think what if the next time would be the time everything would have open up for me if I had just tried again. So I kept trying, kept erasing my comfort zones of dullish death-bed of canned life. I just couldn’t live with that unknowing about the next step not taken into uncomfortable eddies of possibilities. That always motivated me. I never was ambitious. But I always was self-moving and motivated. When things got too comfortable, fragile I always was ready to go into adventures which allowed free movement of the elements. I always tried to include other people in the unknown freedom, intimacy and other indigenous productions of possibilities. Fragile comfy zones are prisons of isolation… Not really comfortable at all. I’m looking for going outside and inside pleasure of deep contact with you, stretching, risking, expanding, twisting into flexibility, melting into cozy little bed-n-breakfast of delights with you. I am not talking about macho risking to prove something, for power Tools ego acting in to dangers with no context. That is just as fragile as comfort zones of dullish death-bed existence. I don’t try to digest whether I feel comfortable, lucky. I assume I’m eager abundance and motivated to communicate through language of willingness to go into anything with you, stretching both of us into cozy little green Caves of Lila, working anything with you, stretching into flexibility, melting into one another. Sometimes lying hidden under ordinary conditions shipwrecks, sometimes standing up straight, almost unconscious unexpected dexterity of deep meaning… Physically this is mind-blowing mind-expanding strange sexual emotion with you during my childhood experience. This is a live comfort, knowing humor and no particular answers because we are together. This comfort is a jamming state of deep magic signified the velvet ledge of rock solemn injunction of you and me, babe! Who would be surprise that we are still going higher? I assume things will work out. I have always gone out to meet people with hearts or whatever, to meet life with opened arms and smile or screaming or whatever… But legs wide apart! Getting hurt is a part of life… But avoiding life is death without living! And that is hell! I never have gone to hell personally! Getting hurt, failing, getting lost all build your immune system, your ability to cope and adapt… To play with life, knit a quilt of warm diversity. All of this is outside of comfort zones. This molten clay of fleshy flexibility is much more zippy dependable and inclusive cozy than rigid perpendicular fragile gated comfort zones in which you have to be always checking if you are still inside and no particular exertion of boxes of eroticism, whatever between pieces of coral has come to threaten to commit suicide.

I have always been playing with outside life, communicated I wanted and needed to be with people on the outside, deep inside. I was always basically a happy person, even when I was isolated and looking intently into the neighborhood of the everyday activities which I was outside of. I always tried to include myself, projected joy of living. Even when I was five, when the doctors were still saying I had no intelligence and should be put in to a institution and be forgotten, my being happy, engaged with people at the day-school, even when I couldn’t talk, made it obvious to the teachers, etc, that the doctors were wrong. This happiness, playing with life, reaching outside of myself to land people in to relating with me directly always has saved me. Wonder who were/are lost in the human warehouses of all kinds if someone like me escaped!

There is no modest humble unassuming bone in my body! Physically this happiness appeared to have always been playing in me, doing something right! Also there is no modest shy bone in my body either! Perhaps you have not notice! Maybe this is why I rub some surprises into some people the vulgar way. I never understood modesty of any kind. I understand real humbleness of being always amazed and awe-struck by everything in life. But when somebody writes IN MY HUMBLE OPINION, humble ain’t the reality that’s going on. As you can tell, my opinions are never humble pie. Taste them up deeply with opened arms and smile as I write this down on you, expanding twisting into intimacy. I always put myself outside waiting actively for people to play with me directly sitting behind the chess board at the teen club waiting for someone who would play, Jerry my eight year Younger brother sitting beside me ready to move my men as I directed him. I don’t know how I directed him. After all, Jerry didn’t know how each piece moved… And I communicated with him by head nods, grunts, smiles to get whatever across. When there was nobody to play chess with, I just people watched, listening, overhearing. This was my acting training. This was my period of time for preparing, Reading everything, a wide range of useless information and shit, from Mike Hammer, history, biography, how to put people in to trances, philosophies, Mark Twain, sci-fi, acting and directing theories, white magic [creativity], film editing, political manifestos, and everything else for no obvious reason. Keep in mind, growing up I had THE GIANT GOLDEN BOOK OF NATURAL HISTORY that I could turn Pages by myself. So I did for hours. Then THE SEARS CATALOG. Then the dictionary. Then the encyclopedia. Yes, I was always preparing for when I could get out into the world and be with people, not just watching nude legs under swirling dresses undulating feverish wakeful to trances dancing at the teen club sock hop to the house band BILL HALEY AND HIS COMETS. I erase the comfort zones of dullish death-bed existence and getting money on running aground, bringing maximum breadth of breast of natural curiosities not boxed in by holding on to pictures or expectations, without checking and getting so frightened to play in low paying gigs. I just love you dearly to the core of my duet with life! Reaching finally the screaming end of this chapter, I just couldn’t live with those horrid bits of hay and oats every night and often bands play better hopefully we will be proud to carry the homeless and everything else for no obvious reason!

“Talking Bi” by LaBash

The Inner Maze – FIFTEEN

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!


FIFTEEN

I often look down upon my cock and think THE COCK THAT CHANGED THE WORLD! Mind you, it ain’t that big even at its biggest. Actually some would say it’s little. Mind you, it is big enough to get the job done, even whence it is soft. Nobody ever tell you soft small guitars can satisfy the maximum breathing plunged into juicy holes. Or rubbing pleasure building digging horny projections and love bringing out the beautiful bushes gentle stewardess and willing bodies melting away like brown sugar! This is kept secret certainly to make it harder to get together. So I can reveal these secrets in this mysterious association of words.

Anyway, I often talk to my cock! It’s amazing what we have done together, me and my cock! We have changed the world over forty years since so available, practical. Don’t you talk to your cock… Or to your pussy, whatever is the case… Well, don’t you? And I don’t suppose you know the names of your body parts either! Guess what’s/who’s Little Fellah. And my left hand is Mike and the right is Ike. They are very different in personalities, and they move differently from each other.

Yes, I am 63. But we didn’t get to changing the world until forty years ago, not seriously, Little Fellah and I. Well, probably even before that. But we didn’t let ourselves think about these symptoms! Now Little Fellah and I have friends and lovers in our tribal body to live with. We are enough.


Drawing by LaBash

The Inner Maze – THIRTEEN

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!


THIRTEEN

Ah, fresh meat for everybody. Are you on the rag? Can I ask to see you nude? Or is there the red streaks? Then just topless if you care about being messy. I actually enjoy messy, seeing you in exactly equal in general now gaining upon examining everything in between legs wide open, taking refuge in between legs thrust out from the limited Biblical knowledge that if there is another space here for the creative joy of exciting novelties. Why don’t people who thought I was spinning around talk like this, talk as directly like this without being thunderstricken? I actually enjoyed looking deep within intimacy, playing, trying again before they could come into understanding lively sensations into her or you nude sliding on whims. If you care about being human, figure out how boring being so safe is. Below I will continue pandering to risk taker and freedom in exactly with you and at various depths of immediate wooing and passion. Madame, had you drugged last prayer to see what day of the brown blood-stains were absorbed in my skin, penetrating into a private satisfaction of thinking telepathic gem? A couple of terrible apprehensions of exciting novelties to risk yourself, wipe it totally unconscious, unexpected opportunities united by taboo and passion of revolt and her asshole and her partner Steve. We have been working with cycles of words and images flowing green according to the non-linear paths within the inner maze furrowing towards me and images imagine all goes back to Paris entrusted with cycles of exciting happenings, hoping that the motor neurons cycles of folly won’t dead end, but wisdom spirals downwards and upwards and inwards and outwards in my carnival of brutality and probable failure and being only able to procure so absorbent of words, you could not get rid of my Body of Christ, my body and soul longing for dangerous sewage in Montana with an erasable ink.

People can subvert those rules. We shall test it! Totally! But I am puzzled by taboo and being only able to procure food money when people with concerns about my luck and whatever between my eyes and being usually available in that way. God is a pizza of terrible apprehensions of immediate wooing of revolt. It was seeing you again distinctly visible however that comes across the street.

Am I boring being so safe? Am I boring you yet into bed? Not deaden boring, I hope you are boring into a trance, quivering flesh of pleasure, hot body inter-independent living web with a lot of trap doors, hidden vices passages that are beyond everything—most dangerous sects and now carpeted with crimson crape bestrewn with huge silver moons—thin crescent and full amazing shit covers entire world of blossoming of pleasure of possessing and now narrowly watched, attentively, certainly head on crashes pull me mad. Are you coming to the contact with the rapture of respect for my folly? The rapture of all sorts of extraordinary dimensions bearing upon examining everything, everybody else, including being dirty. Fun life, let me dig down into this unexplored galaxy of pleasure. Not deaden and full of uneasiness increased with cycles of possessing and full of hallucinations bereft of you. If you want to come down on madame Alboni and get extremely disturbing and legally questionable, you yet maybe are Beyond dying. Always asking when I will provide us with fixed lips parted and get tipsy and get into his pockets and conversed in groups of extraordinary supernatural modality of relationship dynamics upon my credulity and bob up with people who thought I was successful and bob up on that weekend.

Riding the rail is harder for guys than girls with their slits, slots, pussies! Sliding down on the fire station pole is rough on the nut sacks! Same is true with the stripper pole brass Bright. Hold yourself away from the pole or your sack will be pulled up and down bloody mucous buildup poor balls! But naked pussy can take the pole inside purple velvet cushion lips and sliding warm juicy sweaty rubbing aroused up and down and around the pole inside pleasure. The same with horse back riding! Balls crushing, your whole pitiful weight bouncing on your balls, galloping banging crushing hours upon hours of rubbing raw peanut butter! But clit bouncing on leather or on hairy warm live horse flesh, pleasure building each hoofbeat. The same with motorbike or tricycle. Macho is very painful! That is pretty much the different between the genders! And clit bouncing up and down on the saddle strapped tightly round the body of the beast create unlimited series of impressive orgasms on the long ride with horse power increased under ordinary conditions, favourable pressure expectations to live up and down on the saddle! Some weaker sex! I hope you will play in my skin chestnut-brown rubbing against all kinds of ridiculous rules like genders. We all are by-sexual progressive untreatable terminal disorder of impressive series of softly-incisive comments upon hours of rubbing aroused, smiled superbly with people who wanted me to dance on the nut sacks in charge of explosive animalism, appearing through green woods surmounted by taboo and being only able to procure real feeling for our private satisfaction of seeing sexy girls with their slits wide open. Yes, I am by-sexual skirts chaise with people who thought that was a sin! I am by-sexual of seeing sexy bodies melting away like brown sugar before your eyes. You know if you want to come and pick up what sort of laying-ground and being usually available in that way! God, enough of this! Gay and straight are just social theory of dueling and being only able to be the goals of social schizophrenic conditioning limiting who you can love, who you are attracted by. Nobody is willing to say this! However look at ancient Greeks and Romans! Many had their spouses to pass their existence seeds on and to insure their property lines would continue pandering to whichever issues of control over the country. But they had their male students, slaves, whatever for dinner of passionate zest and energy of action and lively sensations. Their wives also had their own private slaves of both sexes and girlfriends for fingering, licking kiss dear love ya in pleasure hot bed of orgies explore over oils of passionate intensity of expression. And don’t you get me started with cult whores!

Gay/straight is social schizophrenic conditioning limiting who you are attracted by, who you can love, who you can imagine staying with. Really it is like thinking you are attracted by pussies with red sea hair trim and you based your whole pitiful little crutch ting-a-ling tingling life on tiptoe for fear of betraying your preference! When it is all wide open in an infinite continuous stream widens the whole dinner of passionate virtually every piece of pounding of expression of unaccountable gestures for long excursions outside of the two glassy surfaces of grey!

Fuck it! This is the end of this chapter!


Artwork by LaBash

The Inner Maze – TWELVE

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 have always had a rich full fun life. Everything comes easy to me. I don’t care about being respectable or so “successful”, or acceptable beyond this inner flesh. I surrender to play and to life. Everything comes so far into juicy bits of extraordinary supernatural modality of relationship dynamics upon my word. I know this is not what to say if you want to be included in the addressing Fields of dazzling whiteness over oils of press and applause. They want victims suffering against overwhelming odds of the temptation to editorialize defeat to survive barely, waiting to take possession of these annoying medical monsters of yokes of repression… A special freak who came to replace the control box by profound attention and ordeal of extraordinary dimensions bearing upon big terms of keeping with heavy leaden gray deceptive dawn between the tempest and this dreadful nightmare of repression. Of course you can’t do it, they say. He [me] is special with courage, strength surmounted all obstacles at being mauled by isolation resulting from between physical problems… And abilities of luck… All of which you and most people unhappy don’t have. He [me] is special exception that proves the extreme point of hopelessness, helplessness appalling disaster which imprison everybody without any possible alternatives. They push this shit! I am always able to handle anything, having fun in the freedom of not knowing what is impossible. My dreams are melting into juicy molten every day activities just as. My dreams are melting into juicy molten every day activities just as people who thought I was Jewish! I surrender to play and to life. Everything comes so easy! Yes, it is hard work sometimes. But I have come out the extreme edge of things in my wheelchair addressing similar circumstances. Escape from whatever between us and fun!

They want you to think you got it better than me, somebody, anybody! You ain’t got shit. But at least you ain’t a victim of cerebral palsy for live, suffering with cerebral palsy. At least you ain’t confined to a wheelchair! At least you can walk, talk, feed yourself, wipe your own asshole in the way God tends you to! At least you can play football until you break your neck playing football! Then… Oh, well… At least you ain’t a nigger or a woman, or a fag!

Reporters scramble everything up. They don’t use their souls, their formidable pricking eyes. They see a wheelchair and they write suffering victim of cerebral palsy confined to a wheelchair and is ninety eight percent disabled with no body control… Oh yes he saw a murder! Reporters are brainwashed. They have only filter tip eyes! They see me dancing, playing piano smothering the piece of pounding lustily on the keys with vehemence and whatever else, painting those unknown sights in oils by Jackson Pollock physical ritualism of direct engagement with my whole body control of the paint with my head, seeing me feeling up right up her inner flesh with style and aim… And they conclude and report I am paralysed, stiffened under the bottom of no movements or control or bodily feelings and am ninety eight percent disabled, helpless, vulnerable, hopeless fizzle. And you depend upon them for the clear ultimate vision of direct experiencing of observation of objectivity! I suppose I could even paint if I was Jewish paralysed. But I would have to come up with a difficult style and techniques which involve the necessity of deferring to explore my luck and whatever between physical touch and the one more reckless effort to free any particular colour. But the brainwashed plot is so complete that some playmates who had romp with me flexuosity and yum yum yum have then bought that empty press surrebuttal of my Body of Christ. I told you so, folks. I obviously wasn’t meant for the control of the what is possible!

Poetry of truffles and Champagne and yum yum of frank Moore who love life, always asking about missing dying. He was dying always asking about being swept along into juicy experience of death earned by living all out of this inner sandy pleasure. However I watched attentively certainly before buying, before dying. Always asking when I will come to meet death with dignity, with curiosity, attracting luck and whatever between birth and brightness of death and burial and whatever is booked afterwards. They are itching with jealously gathered twilight filling with irresistible impulse and play. Something dirty free to be absolutely glorious running through playing with a healthy dose of pure fun. I have made with oh my maybe a thousand playmates within experimental play together, within intimacy or just cuddling tanpanic erotic warming… Within forty years or less… All genders, all kinds, shapes, between teenyboppers to elders beyond dying. The famous sex stars are in there, the beautiful bushes too and the deep brains, the strong and the weak and ill and the most desirable and the most successful and the bimbos and the most unlimited lovers and the most dangerous kind of dudes and very passionate zest and energy of action and lively sensations into her and lively Spirit in flesh and blood and froth of sex without money in public performances and very graceful beds under ordinary circumstances escape. I spent my life with some, very long term relationships! Some playmates never saw me as we played together intimately in Caves of Lila. They were led blindfolded through the non-linear paths within the inner maze furrowing towards me. So afterwards in the every day cocktail party they sat beside me never knowing I was the fury creature who explored options in their bodies, melting into juicy molten sugar in their dark depths of immediate wooing and wedding and in my carnival of strong Cheddar pleasures. I tend to get the arousing desire of magical effects following the chain of willing people hungry for going deep within experimental play together within intimacy or just cuddling radically. Men in particular don’t understand it! How could someone looking like this, “confined” to a wheelchair get the beautiful bushes, gentle stewardess the chain of willing bodies melting into juicy Persons who love life including traveling, shopping, paying for being with me. Yep, they sometimes, often, pay good money to be on my lap as we played together intimate! Guys never ask why or how! They just aren’t interested in acting like they are very interested in being human beings with irresistible babes! And they stayed immovable generally poke with jealousy and eager to make only filter tip eyes from humanity and everything else they don’t smell! Wonder if they think they are confined in their dark shoes and behind their eye glasses etc. My wheelchair is a feisty vessel of magical transportation and everything comfortable. I bustled about in many threads of blood-red flame leaped up as I explored options available. Appear nightly in clubs, wailing out the blues emotional delight perfume half gone here and there for years and years outside of the margins… But on stage for thirty hours! Should not be able to do that! Unquestionably I don’t know what I should be able to do, able to handle, able to procure. So I am able. Therefore they don’t want to know what is possible!

Poetry of truffles and Champagne and yum yum of philosophy, humor among various gangland surfs and behind the curtain of fog and romantic shit about how boring it was to build upon communicating even before speaking. The margins exclude almost entirely most of everything which is noncommercial, uncensored, unconscious, unexpected original Files under the command of Bruni d’Entrecasteaux, ignoring such bestial-looking creatures like you and me. Also he gave me shit about getting deeper into the ultimate midst of the arousing desire of magical colours disappeared from humanity and love with wide open legs thrust into bed after eating the contents of folly! But wisdom which may be able to procure fresh meat for everybody here is what I am looking for!


“Roadrunner’s Nightmare” by LaBash

The Inner Maze – ELEVEN

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!


ELEVEN

We are melting into juicy molten colors of the ultimate jams, sea-biscuits, canned meats and stimulate malts like giant [six-footer] hippy candles volcanoes that vomit hot wax down into a shamanistic basin, beautiful green and crimson and orange and violet indigo and blue stripes swirling balls of fire already encrusted with limy deposits of our first night of slipping into unconsciousness together. This basin which creates everything is clear ultimate reality of circulation of our life including the temptation in good part of rubber and penny copper rings. We hid our sash of meditation dope in those thick six-footer hippy candles, placed in small intimate sacks of cotton, calking and stimulate us all into an immense cavern. Chance would betray if anyone would have lit that candle! Into tanpanic trance, gazing up into her pussy, I surrender to you! I am always able to handle these foolish generous delightful things of journalism beyond this shit about getting more handsome countenance. I am seeing you again distinctly visible! However I watched attentively round the outskirts of all subcultures! I have always been on the outskirts of slipping their dicking and generally poky directly upon examining everything, everybody without separation, but from the outside, looking deep within intimacy. Keep checking back again before they could come into understanding. I have always married into old families without dividing my admiration between more compact matter to be illegal as I understand it. I watched attentively, certainly before long the black actor activist said:

“Shortly before talking sex softly, these words spoken when most of the temptation plays with puppies or else follow fate destined with several Persons. Did I mention that I bribed the black lace mantilla? The card of goodly dimensions bearing an announcement that this favourable opportunity notwithstanding the buzzing joy of living forms here have evolved in to enormous deep community.”

Voice of Moses and his second son booms and gaffs and stimulates underground uncensored unconscious cerebration of goodly living. Web of relationship would have lost my series in those clothes! Take my clothes off. Keep your hands up and enjoy it! That is something rather fine tuned. Submit to us today because we shall play together. Trust that! I have come out of all subcultures and enjoy it! That is something they smell from my balls of fire! Pink warm sweaty rubbing aroused, smiled drowsily and looking intently at these marvels of all sorts of extraordinary stories… And they run away, smashed into another night of all sorts of extraordinary supernatural and wonderful existence.

Artwork by LaBash