[atsonicpark]

Here's chapter one of the book I'm writing...

....

MAKE IT BE A WARM DAY
CHAPTER ONE

My bestest buddy in and my bestest, newest knew how to give particle participant his ovulating sense. Really an acquaintance, persé... I wasn't very acquainted with her though. Buddy wanted sex, and went up to this bitch with, "You have Pepto Bismo!"

She with a confused sigh.

"It's your FUCKING POCKET, BITCH!!!!!!"

Oscillators? Proudly we perplex protocal prurient prowess which publicizes pugnacious shit in the bathroom, hermorrage, I start to all means: sex, the bunches of any kind will probably mess you up in fact; not kill you but make you feel really disillusioned.

The key is that for the dog-that-I-am finitude is is the precondition for the oscillations between authenticity and transcendental, Kantian sense that I think my bestest best buddy and I differ on what. If you're asking in the sense of what the sense of looking for a noun for a God because we have faith in grammar, finitude doesn't have a certain logical priority. All roads do lead to of saying, along with my bestest best buddy: Dasein understands so in such a manner that it will go thus to take over in its thrownness that entity wholly. An authentic anticipation of one's ownmost potentiality-for-Being, combined drives out accidental and provisional possibilities-- "dispersing all fugitive chosen." Finitude is the "reason" for any movement between inauthenticity, and back in the other direction, going "under the precondition to authenticity." When I say that finitude deploys inauthenticity, I mean to make the claim in the employs, that is, in the sense of what presupposes OCCASION the shift, it seems you are asking in verb. (Remember the Nietzsche phrase) This is a boring way itself with regard to its potentiality-for-Being, and it does right under the eyes of Death, and in order which it is itself, and to take it over with a steadfast resolve "under the eyes of Death". Self-concealments. What remains (viz., the "situation") is inherited yet authenticity- inauthenticity occurs: eg. the various forms of "fleeing toward the eyes of death" toward authenticity.

My buddy wanted sex, was important, ate right, so my new-found non-Pepto Bismo-having friend was there. Though, we're barely acquainted.

She with a confused glance.

"Alienating propulsion portest astute absolute ascent assuming public apropos appurtenant aria arithemetical to condescend ceremoniously."

Vehemently, incoherently by idiot affection, infected -- hit the pipe again.

So, we produce veins.

So, we drank ourselves, clubs and fucking each and such. This is what life is turning into: scenery scarce, scenarios we trust. Lies we fuck for appearance's sake to say sorry to spirited sovereign silent sickness surrounded by shitfits with excess surfeit servants and scientific stupidity. The world wanted sex; acquaintance in the world that palpitating petty pantomimed predatory perceptive opiated opinions differ.

Not more like someone who was with at all.

But may I need to shit.

Dilemmas.

Somehow I designed a television program that would inject its static waves into my robotic cells in order to feel the premise of the show and the characters slowly start becoming my organs and the plotlines become my white blood cells and the ending credits are streamed all over my hairline: To take his mind off his divorce, antimatter physicist -- he was the hero!!! -- his ex-wife Lauren Ashborne was Sebastian Jackal, a satanic figure who wanted to destroy the people who made Gus' life a living hell. But the running went haywire, reading the game's villain file out their programming. Gus, Lauren, and Peter are then Gus Lloyd! But he started programming an action video game where the sidekick, and his father Jordan Kenneth Lloyd was the world with an army of thugs based on the antimatter experiments. Gus and his friend Peter Rucker are sending them into the real world to act forced to play the game for real. Christoper Loyd smiled.

A girl, "Hey, I know!" said, "No, I don't.." said, "Yes.. it's in ossify ostensable propitious proposals. Autonomous peace puerile prospects. Pulmonary publication puke." As I stroking my own shit, think about what it drugs... the distance. Drinking of poison will cause honesty a lot but may you see confusion? It'll just make fuck for a few days. But, and that was what decided to ask me about it: Friend? Acquaintence. Speaks in gibberish now: "students! You study opinions astern asthma apocryphal approximations of appartenance conditioned incorrect about incantations incarcerated by disassociative vivisections."

So, we shot something in our silly.

We speak candidly and vividly and sincerely about "No one is worthy of my friendship." So, I told the drug that the brain was the ugliest part of her entire body.

Getting kicked out of brains like it's nothing. Has revolved and evolved; all a facade. Facts love to lust after. Soil solids and say souse self-gratificating shit. I stare at sapient scavenged scholars obsessed surveying sleepless spoiled splinter cells.

The end.

[atsonicpark]

CHAPTER TWO
So, the thing show was a success. Mostly home CD's. It was cool to see Steven and Excite Jerk at the time.

On the way back, we went I go to piss. And a guy in is in the urinal next to me. He fucked at me. At my dick. I was freaked, you know, how much it hurts to stop to the mirror to fix my slept-on hair. In the mirror. Freaking out more, I decide, see if he'll stop staring. Nope -- he the next bathroom, and I continue with my walks in on me there. I get the talk to ruin, and the rain runs out -- he says.

I go, "Uh... okay.. did you see that, offered to suck my dick!"

I said, "WHAT?"

And he "Are you guys in a band?"
ME: "Yeah."
ASH GRAY SHIRT GUY: "Oh.. like a month or so.."
ASH GRAY SHIRT GRAY SHIRT GUY: "No.. do you like to... "I'll suck your dick in the bathroom. It'll..."
GRAY SHIRT GUY: "How about that redheaded guy?"
GUY: "How about that other guy with glasses? Be into it."
ME: "No dude... no.."

Feeling sick, I ran. Then ran. My sweetheart is sick. Please wish her. It's true. I really did feel empty when I basically did absolutely nothing and I talked. So, bye. Michigan kids seemed to like us, many taking pictures and I smiled when I felt sick. And then the rain dried. The rain rained for days. And then it rained. And etc. I said one word to an Indianapolis reststop. I go to shit. An ash gray/grey shirt with a mustache keeps looking at me -- you know, LOOKING... out for a bit... so, I stop pissing. And pissing, right? Well, I stop.

So, I go over. The guy looks over at me, I see to look over and stare at him... to keeps right on fucking staring.

So, I walk to business: pissing, fixing my hair, etc. The guy gets fuck out of there. I go outside and "Dude, let's get the fuck outta here!" The dude in the gray shir..

"Yeah, he just said it went like this...

ASH GRAY SHIRT GUY: SHIRT GUY: "How long you guys been together?"
ME AND GUY: "Do you like to play?"
ME: "Yeah... uh.."
ASH PLAY?: *licks lips*
ME: "Oh.. no..."
ASH GRAY SHIRT GUY: "...only take a minute."
ME: "Nah dude.. that's okay.."
ASH [me!]
ME: "No, he has a girlfriend.."
ASH GRAY SHIRT: "Is that your brother? He looks like he'd out.. after shaking the guys hand of course!"

Also, well. I love so much. Geez. She was gone!

Work has sucked but last night it was Norton for an hour.

10 in 2010!

Well, Norton also says he likes ghetto tech. And I want to get Jewish but with an avant touch.

The end.

[atsonicpark]

CHAPTER THREE
GOD I WANT TO JUST FUCKING MUTILATE THEM.

The end.

(Two more chapters left)

[floatingslowly]

thats all well and good, but I don't see you making up new words (like only Kloriel can).

better luck next time.

ps: stay out of the sun, gingerskin.

[atsonicpark]

CHAPTER FOUR
In from black fake dentures sinking into juicy flesh in a almost sexual. fucking way that is sucking air and licking air and fucking air and their way to... to... to SUCK more muscle fibers that the drumstick's last flesh facade. Escape the escapades of fucked flesh fibers. Or fuck it.

Flashes of some tribal proto-natural sounds flooding the casettes recorded on mics all over the world; recording of a recording of a recording onto a small half-clothed lamb person, smelling of silt holding cancered camera which pans left to a.. a.. a.. similarly-dressed boy playing with his chafed dick, some sort of holding pattern, a record spinning backwards but not revealing backmasked bullshit, he rubs up his fingertips onto his labored lap until he cums and "No, I don't want fucking chicken".. and onto the hell he puts the thing away, hits play.

When contact with the record starts to fuzz and whistles fill the womb, you see faded missile fire from fades of stock footage in still-plowed snow fields with corpse legs coming out like corn crops. Half fully grown abortions penetrade outhouse penthouse.

As sad mournful music plays.

Narration starts, "Nodies will grow, will be harvested, the government will do..... nothing... they will be cards... and a whisky... and will propagate their race... and junkies... so will easily accept down their lives... rich alike.”

A man and a top hat to one of the field: "I want that one.” and “That one.” in reference to the small slave boys.

Camera cums. Doorway into some lab. Doorway into Hell. The two strapped to a man with the nurse who looks like a 14 year old's wet dream fantasy, perfume in the poke and prod instruments.

Old women’s teeth succulently suck hunks of chicken, way that is sounds that fill the scrapping, and gnawing the bones only on the stringy remain tethered from men dancing in way. Voodoo Drum atmosphere.

Dirty boy in a mound of vinyl records. Slightly reveal man sitting on elaborate parade float player. The boy-man’s leg with cancer reaches the ... the... fucking record player. Record on! And the needle makes record and the spin-loud-explosions fill the air and overt images of World War 2. People operating on eyeballs and other gross decayed stock footage shit.

Camera framed on a bloody arm. And of the field, buried bodies almost in the rows. 70’s style psychedelic over the music:

“These vaginas turned into men. They at a time, appointed by law. Handed their draft bottle of cheap perfume to be encouraged, froth with diseased hookers, that their kind defeat and lay before gods and with a monocle approaches and points the bodies." He says, “I’ll take pointing at another in through a sort of medical selected men are table and the monocle is present. Huge tits looking year old boy’s proceeds to squirt mens’ eyes and them with various whatevers."

Of perfume. Of fragrance. It is exhilarating. You will be burned. But first you will know of it. Because they are… minimal poor people.

Now the bodies being burned flood through the fire.

A normal man through a village, a dusty pathD dew cans and flood out of bags tumble through. The man walks and looks inside one: An underwear arm washing dishes while a man, a chair, drinking looking, at a has-been NASCAR narration, one man is yelling “I work all and come home even have dinner fuckin’ rotten. I.. I’m with you.”

The to the trail to tent 2.

Tent except for a sweater vest barking contains a man mask taking a toilet and stuffing handfuls of honey.

Tent methed out crack man to come bucks. A girl corner injects heroin and falls back. Tent 5: A priest arguing and ripping garbs and religious pamphlets, a graveyard, and the first tent? A grave holding. A can of it how’you-doing/misses? >$^>#^>@$>^%

"I..I work.. all and come home... no dinner. You... Your pussy fuckin' knows... why I’m..."

Narration: “This new line is a success! The.. The test.. bodies and no one ... PERFUME IN MY EYES... the side effects and only view of and loud screams crackling roar of looking man strolls of tents along... Tons of mountains of TV dinners box the tents. Popcorn bags like tumble weeds. Down the trail. The first tent."

"I'VE GOT THE FUCKING FEVER."
"I'VE GOT THE FUCKING FEVER."
"I'VE GOT THE FUCKING FEVER."
"I'VE GOT THE FUCKING FEVER."
"I'VE GOT THE FUCKING FEVER."
"I'VE GOT THE FUCKING FEVER."
"I'VE GOT THE FUCKING FEVER."

Tent blackens in unflattering baggy. I live inside a fucking trash bag. In a bucket. Shithead sits reclined in a beer and TV. The TV, it and the corpses of the woman. Goddamn day. And you can’t ready? Your pussy's rotten. Don’t know why. Man goes back and zigzags across. Tent 2: Is empty dog in a backwards walk.

Man continues.

Tent 3: Man in a bear shit on a his face with crack head.

Tent 4: Contains sleazy whore taunting the insides of a boy for $20 in the thong pocket. Far into her thigh into the corner comes a cancered soul.

Tent 0 features a rabbi and a priest playing at each others trinkets.

Camera stops. The boy has decided he's sick by the whores and the crooks and the rain. The man from earlier is standing over a pot and corn. “God Damn gonna cook this. God damn day and their ain’t aren’t worth shit. rotten. I don’t with you."

The end.

[floatingslowly]

when you stop hallucinating, we need to talk.

I think I might be pregnant.

[atsonicpark]

FINAL CHAPTER
I've grown into a beast. I've grown into a breast. Giant lactating, beating my silly with a veined up rotoscope. Fisheye lens and cookies dipped in milk and childhood dreams of nothing but flies. Cathy might do something to my dog. So I worry. My house might burn the fuck down. So I laugh.

With a gut barrel in one hand; in the other, a raising sun. To reveal a back-turned-opposite hat and restaurant pistol: exactly opposite. Of fat man restaurants, fat man, several other men holding the air. L. of the Larry B. of under employ of Burger on the burger served to by Larry B. contain no cheese, inspection of said to be found slice of cheddar of mayonnaise which an ingredient for sandwich purchased. Let swift! "The two steps and on the napkin the fire. The man is struck... first blow. The next fat man in after some agony out a last be…no….cheese…”

"Victorious, a referee outfit comes. Employee’s arm on high, dings! The man the napkin high live another day…Your day.”

Just because I can't change everything.
Doesn't mean.
I can't change anything.
Just because I can't change everything.
Doesn't mean.
I can't change anything.
Just because I can't change everything.
Doesn't mean.
I can't change anything.

Dawn illuminates. Camera pan. Fat man. Shot. Pool of blood. Heard. Women in gnarled bird crotch. Like vultures. As they begin nibbling at the chewing flesh strings. Teeth biting. Deep flesh.

Show flashes of eating chicken. I'm trapped in a tent made of flesh. In full bondage gear. It was funny when my family died.

As they pelt the remnants of chicken flesh, they taunt at him. The fat man says, “Holy Tabernacle up beside a very old man, of the inside fallen down dwelling cross to which man resembling Christ. The Christ man humps on him.

The Christ man cums on him.

To smack. The shout. At him? More. More. More passion, more energy, more power. After the tree, one grabs a wash cart and brings women. They wring. Begin bathing in his body. Meanwhile, to draw lines of reason, to form a circle. He and I piece hair and place center. He kneels on fire and rock back and conjure a romantic lil' spell. Out of the loop and into a horned fucking head. Lucifer jumps out. He and the old women and young women screaming and crying and fucking and eventually a gimp, ashamed, hangs himself with a rope made of Christ. Eyes and laughs. Unties Christ now. As he jump up with milk breast. Hands made of wooden crosses.

And each of the bible pages ripped out and used as toilet paper. Maybe even joint paper? Roll some weeds, you know the type, the funny stuff that makes you go "HA. HA. HA." in stitled laughs of "ha" with the period afterwards to represent space. Almost robotic. But mainly proof that I don't know how to mercy-kill my own dog.

Two magnifying glass kids take Barbie dolls and a crotch boy says “look!" “The other boy like that don’t do.” “The other, she loves it.” Over the boys shoulder and gulps. A man with a black hood up, some shades, holding a paper bag presents the bag, says "how bout in" a menacing whatever voice. The boys lying and the man magnifying glass and crotches with it. “You like that you do. You twists." His mustache is funny. Watch this: As the noon subsides, speeding train with several cuts to the tracks."

Then on her, the her side, and her hair. The "do anything". Let man. Unties her. Saved. She says for saving me.... "Thanks." The man, "Who me? Aw shucks." Then, he rapes her. I laughed. I'm a sick little fuck for writing that. But it was funny to me. So, fuck you.

God is a drone now.

God is harmonizing the refrigerator.

Typical prose bullshit.

The man asked, “How did ya do there?” This is always noon. They always will do anything... let them go. The woman: "What of me? Then, several seconds pass. Tilts the side and dress for starters. A little. Higher…a HIGHER, HIGHER, till but crotch. She screamed. I knew it, I knew it, a pair of off clumps and puts them jar and he the woman falls and cries. Then a hill, along to a little trees. There are the ground. He reaches Christ and a cross covered hands..."

It's Jesus! The cross fucks from it up fuck the fuck gone. Fuck Jesus fuck! Fuck and fuck, sit fuck against fuck, fuck a, fuck the fuck jar, fuck and fuck full fuck of fuck the fuck hair. Fuck. Slowly fuck it. Fuck, then fuck/laugh. Fuck with the gods. Fuck them. We fuck. We fuck poor. We fuck rich. Rich as well needs FUCKED.

Switch out. Make tattoos of pubic hair. Dancing had won. In the cemetery now. The ground broke back, a pot of avant garde cinema fans play in the snow. The man approaches and vomits honey over tombstones. Dead. The man jacks off, drags the embedded nonsense. He speaks. “For who am your of your riches The gods and land picked me bidding and you I have lost. dead and your blame. The townspeople man and tie cross and stone in the sweater him and chews One of the from the woods of spears. She in her hand I believed and raped." He laughed. Laugh! Jesus laughed. She laughs manically the hooded man The blood trickles and onto the over into the The bodies begin grow.

Narration: These men... beasts….

A man holding a revolver hand and trigger stands brazen against Camera pans slightly man at his in a visor uniform holding a Camera flashes front then front of times. Camera shows a napkin high Man says “Timothy family Jenkins challenges The family Grant the business Large grounds that the timothy L. Jenkins Grant was to but upon further burger there was not only 1 but a dollop was not even the makings of the judgment be men pace three the drop of men turn and in the visor with a shoulder delivery hits the the chest and the man lets gasp saying “there…was..to man in a and raises the as a bell who once held says “You will will live another sky bright and in on the dead in a Flies can be bathing suits covered feathers squawk and approaching the corpse to chew and fat dead man. and chunks their in to the the old women flash all together old women. They wooden cart being gimp man in The women rejoice the man with bones. They scream in toungs. The the side of banner across it Church” They pull stone building that In the corner of the half there is a is tied a The gimp approaches and begins to The women scurry gimp away and in toungs some gimp hides behind of the women tub from the it to the out sponges and man and polishing the gimp begins in the earth symbol inside of collects some twigs of his own them in the and sets it begins to quietly forth saying a red hand busts earth and then A man resembling of the ground. gimp charge the ravage them. The frightened begin to run away. The his actions retrieves hangs himself. Lucifer Christ opens his Lucifer laughs. Lucifer they laugh and down. They shake take one side and drag it trail until neither boys with a turns burning a and tits. One at her squirm.” says “ you you. Yeah you boy responds “Oh A shadow casts and one swallows pans up on black Dickie pants, with the hood and a mustache. beer bag. He and kneels and some candy boys voice.

The man says, "Don’t you. Yeah love it.”

The man and checks his seconds tick closer, flashes a time and then woman tied to train speeding down man jumps near rubs and smells woman screams I’ll me go! The and she is thank you sir Did you see did this to said no. She you know I man explains “There woman here at say that they and I always “I see said do you want man thinks for his head to said lift your She lifts it little more, HIGHER, I see nothing lifts and she it he yelled. would happen…He removes scissors and chops her pubic hair in a glass scurries away and to her side man bounds over a river, and clearing by some drag marks along follows them. He the devil carrying in sweat. He jar and takes them and drags road and is the devil exhausted tree. They open stuff their mouths young girl’s pubic revitalizes them. They mouthfuls of hair.

Rich and with men may be to the tents people come running mouths full of around like they lottery rejoicing.

The woman comes out of to life stirring corn with hair her mouth into her husband’s yells fistfuls of hair. the bear mask hairballs soaked in as he collapses in the hooded cross over and the ground above the bear and and sits down the rejoicing villagers. it was I true savior. All are my doing. devils of the to do their have gained and My friend is greed is to kick the hooded him to his him. The dog vest barks at at his pants. old women comes with a cart takes the spear and says “Once then I was I heard him Who’s laughing now? as she stabs with the spear. down his body ground and flows field of bodies. to squirm and have grown into."

Guess we all knew.

The end.

[atsonicpark]

Hope you enjoyed my book.

[!@#$%!]

you've been reading a lot of burroughs, haven't you?

[afterthefact]

Did you translate this into Japanese, and then translate it back to English again?

[Lurker]

Apparently many times, and through several languages.

[Kloriel]

It should have been titled, "The Spies that Came In the Cold"

but well done, sir.

"devils of the to do their have gained and My friend is greed is to kick the hooded him to his him. The dog vest barks at at his pants."

[atsonicpark]

Thanks, I'm glad you liked it!!

[SonikJesus]

I can really appreciate this. it's very good. However, most people probably won't "get" it. You're using a lot of unnecessary words and the sentence structure doesn't "follow the rules" at times. Part of good writing is to eliminate a lot of the unnecessary words and keep it simple. But I'm not here to lecture you. Fuck the rules.

Don't take this the wrong way, I'm just pointing out that lots of people won't get it, though I think it's good.

[atsonicpark]

Thanks! Yeah. I could probably write something okay if I really worked at it and edited it and such. I didn't edit anything on this. Oh well. Maybe next time. I hardly ever write. I just felt compelled to yesterday for some reason.

[phoenix]

...

?

[atsonicpark]

bumped for n'ik