UPDATE 09/10: links are dead!)
i was having dinner at the silver slipper with a baboon named quartz. we were talking about how everything deliberate belonged to an imaginary world...the cups the forks the spoons. his dad was running telephone wire at a charity for spastics. kids with autism cleaned swimming pools and bent movie actors sold furniture to a double exposure with a hell experience. when I looked down on my plate, there were complementary tickets to dog bone molehill versus golf balls on the moon
much later, i appeared at recess of the mind for the rumble party, free at the thunderbird lounge...three bands took center stage. (apes of wrath, minor suns, skooners: two decent and one less so.) all the awkward from magazines wrote suicide notes and exchanged ink blots. i fell asleep with false teeth and wrote a epitaph to wax figure nostalgia. in other news, the kid from bingo goes to marriage. the six of diamonds called off the minute hand to dive headfirst into the corner pocket.
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