Fortyfive in six months

 Fortyfive in six months, forty-fucking-five.  Strange nights of messing off life and being the not good person.   Destruction is part of my thing, I guess.  I break things, wreck cars, break hearts, call girsl too many times that don't want one drop of a second of my voice, my kiss or one millimeter of my c**k.

Questions belong to those who burn their lamps at the evening hours where they say that witches fly and walk and smile and cackle and run with packs of wolves and cats, rabbits and black dogs, most of the witches don't fly on brooms anymore these days.  

Mainly they leave their brooms at home so their closet faggot pedo husbands can keep the house clean while they go out and fill their bodies with booze, drug, smoke, and powder, gracefully kissing the night with 

 life's edge of danger. 

Nothing said sincerity like having a cold draft beer for a buck or less, or so, back in the old days,  in  places called a "dive", a "dive", can have everything from very few to no people in it to a tonne more in very variable amounts,, things can change at any moment.  

Bank Robber I cannot be.  Fairly equal, I can try to be, but 0that kind of thief I cannot be.  They need to pay me.  Fuck that performance.  They can buy my books and my writing and they can file me under "maybe I should not have bought that ticket to that show", or maybe, "maybe i should not have bought oliver's tape", but I will not be filed under "oliver killed himself".  Period.  Nor do I like Jail.    I would prefer not to be there.  I have writing that I cannot do on paper with pen or pencil.  It needs to go out fast.  fast like lightning or a pinball right down the middle of the chute on the last ball.  Hope you get a match and a free game.  

The POP an old pinball makes when you get a credit is something I want surrounding me all my life, as well as heavy rock and techno and spoken word stuff.  

I want that for Halloween, actually.  I want Halloween all the time and I want everything for Halloween.  that means infinite halloweens and infinite stuff.

Not everything.  Just some stuff.  Some stuff, 

and I think that Christmas is mean to trees.  It isn't that I'm against Jesus, it's the fact that these trees are being treated in such a manner that I cannot bring my eyes away from the tears sometimes.

soooo..  I guess if I made Halloween be every day, then I wouldn't have the 4th of July or my b-day or ....    like any of the other hoildays...  but...  we could have a merger.  We could have a merger. Disney's eating the whole show up.  Let's have Disney Holidays, all day, every day. till we die and after words, too, kids.

Don't meet me on the lone prairie.  Don't meet me in Central Park, don't meet me on Coney Island, don't meet me where you met me before.  I'm moving around.   

I'm bouncing around like you did to me a long time time ago.    Just like a pool ball on a table in a smoky bar from the films. I'm bouncing around. 

Been hit too many times, far too many times.  Far too hard.  But, guess what, It works.  Let's fix the problems.  Let's take it one day at a time.  Let's take it one day at a time. 

I'd like to take up a writing course at Columbia University in New York.  I wanted to let you know.  I would like to walk in the same halls that Ginsberg and Burroughs did, to smell that east coast air again, to feel the cold chill of winter and the warmth of the east coast sun in spring ...  it's ...  remarkable.

If I have to take care of Alex's stuff, then I guess getting the Briggs Lane house is in order, as it was a partnered contract between me and him.  I'm scared, though, but I know I can do this.  

Why be afraid???  

You're a good kid, Charlie Brown...  Stand Up, get down to business. 

+OCM+  2020