Hookers or Cake

Where the self-obsessed get serious about silly
I'm too wacky to be hip.

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      ------------------------------------ There was a large painting of Evel Knievel shaking hands with Richard Nixon. It hung in the Mayors office. Late one evening after everyone went home. I took it down to the lab. I zoomed in on Evel’s left eye a 100x and enhanced it. It was an address. I went to the address. It was a modest, 1970’s style, split level ranch home in the suburbs.

      ----------------------------------- Inside I found a dead parrot lying on a waterbed. I revived the parrot with some saltines and adrenaline. We became good friends. The parrots name was Randy. One night a few years later while Randy and me played Gin Rummy, he sang me a song about a fire. The title of this blog was never mentioned but I sensed it, and Randy confirmed it by giving me ‘THE LOOK’.

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          • January 14, 2010 9:00 pm
            and they say there is no good theater in this town. why look herein this shitty apartment complexon the edge of townwhere a forest once stooda form of quiet kabukitipsy lil redheadduckwalks across homework displaying her wondrous tits a vision of sugarplums that dancein the dreamers head a huckbuckling, cock stiffening, delightnodding deep into the nighttill nothing but the forest’s spirit remains

            and they say there is no good theater in this town.

            why look here
            in this shitty apartment complex
            on the edge of town
            where a forest once stood

            a form of quiet kabuki
            tipsy lil redhead
            duckwalks across homework

            displaying her wondrous tits

            a vision of sugarplums that dance
            in the dreamers head

            a huckbuckling, cock stiffening, delight
            nodding deep into the night
            till nothing but the forest’s spirit remains

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