nothing... talking to a married chick.
take a collective licking, mister/miz etcetera.
(generally speaking too loudly for their store of knowledge, Pete Cetera fans burn slowly, unevenly. generally but not with genuity.)
carl: there's no such thing as straight-up pussy. it's always on the
rocks.
joan: there's no such thing as a silent dick.
they are listening to see if I will appear, she confided clutching a kleenex to her dripping nipple. the couch was very comfortable, sinky, forcing us to rub shoulders. the snacks were stale, put out too early, and the hostess already too drunk. my headache was moving down into a pimple at the tip of my nose. "jump," i encouraged.
whatre you on? the exchange rate is hardly one-to-one Taiwan yuan.
I went to my happy place: smoking in a donut shop waiting for my girlfriend
to call on the pay phone. what's happening? nothing so far. a moment to
have taste sensations.
former don juan to the captain's table. the final
customer of the day, her bedraggled
and slit skirt.
anslit prudhomme, change the locks on the envelope drawer mowers overhead. ca-ching went the cash drawers, zoom-zooming out. can I cook? went the daurghter, pruning being completed on the peaches in the side yard. sweaty and heavenly flour. there is work to be done and several things can be called buns. just for fun. downers on the killing floor.
one moment said juan as he placed the folded yuan in the cash drawer.
visibly viable, the photographer put on his trial. found not mocking
or admiring. is it work or art?
I hate the smell of frying bacon when I'm smoking in my treetop window at 9:30.
makes me wanna go camping drinking warm budweiser and looking at maps and I can't.
passive aggressive with heavy rocks. "what are you wearing?"
smoking girls
the final customer at the bank, an after-hours extra aftershave handshake
come-a-calling, by Hobbs Chino Chang Lowenstein-Barre. cha-ching cha-ching
says the president lisping thru parted incisors.
what have I done to my skin?!?
merle of chattauqua is all about him some girdles.
nobody says, "I'm gonna close this door." they just do it.
I hate you, too, by the way. just enough to do some
things about it.
third semester
top perfume idears (commercials in parentheses):
+ sweater man! (heavy, groomed eyebrows)
+ silent dicks (minimalism)
+ knot mocking cockney for chums (sells itself -- midshelf line)
+ his trial (mutts in judicial robes shitting in bloodshot ears)
a smile.
are whores
having sized up the customer, ms. steinblatz fits
her perfectly in a loving companion girdle by merle of chattauqua.
a wealth of yesterdays
this used to look comme ca
search for the
hidden drachen agenda
visit Fern Frieze Jr.
king of encounter-point