Haven't you got a country to go to?
I mean...A country
Who loves you?
I and Pasolini smile
I'm out of the Furnace
a good man still hard to find...
I sit in the grass with the glass and from there
Shoot you in the back,
No mercy.
Consumerism is shit He said, I agree
and that's all you'll ever be
Try to prove me wrong. lil Penguin, Honey.
You must know when you're not Wanted
and still you go to the wrong home
You probably think homme is where the
Sun is
It's absent.
and now you hear the voice and the wind.
And you're feeling
Uncomfy.
I'm not a sofa you recline on
A creature of habit you shot
doe-eyed
I have no Mercy.
Just ask...Pasolini.
Anno Domini
Dominus doma
Dogma
Who?
You're so lost
And voiceless
Nino, have you heard him sing?
Maria, you have, I know. Anna.
If their voices melt in the furnace
maybe I wouldn't have to shoot the breeze.
The wind cries.
Where will your body be found?
In a film in Italy.
In a dream theater maybe.
Where I won't be.
I use ammo and emo as I please...
And God, so much money. and guilt, still...(can't hide it)
SO. MUCH. MONEY.
You could buy all of Italy, and birds, and the Geneva lake
and you'd still be Looking.
lol...
Tiny
world.
WORD.
Innit?
The internet, my friends, is such a small place, where big egos are found
where Walter Mitty is on the cover of Life
where I'm invisible
busy reading symbolic stuff...
It's a dangerous country.
It's like, the South of Italy. (probably).
I was raised on Berlusconi tv.
You obviously couldn't tell
because I'm a very good blind shot...
Aaaah the South.
12 years a slave and more
and free
and found a keyboard to kill people with. As always...
Old 'Lini was made for people like...me.
Run!
in the end there was an Ostie
You don't know what an an ostie is
but you're still coming here.
lol, Christ, you live so dangerously.
Should I tell? Who, William?
Pasolini drew an Indian. Honest. I'm telling you...
The Souvenirs
Since I can't talk to you any other way
I'll just say this now, and delete it in the morning,
and I doubt that anyone will read this between now and then anyway,
and you probably won't either, but just in case,
and don't worry this will never end up in a zine,
but anyway as you know
I always avoid going into your work whenever you are there,
if I can help it,
anyway today was that show and I had to stop and get a coffee,
well I didn't have to but I knew it would make me
feel more comfortable there
if I had something to hold,
so I decided to get a coffee,
now the thing is that about three hours earlier,
before I'd even decided to go to the show
or remembered that it was taking place today at all
I went to take a shower and I
randomly picked a flannel shirt out of my closet,
one I hadn't worn in months,
and got dressed
and went about my day
and f***ed around online
and remembered the show
and I had nothing else to do
and I never leave the house
so I figured what the hell why not
but then the inherent pitfall in the prospect
of the whole coffee-getting-thing beforehand
occurred to me,
(I hem and haw about these things for hours, days, eons)
but then I figured, ah, there's a only a 50 percent chance
she'll be there anyway
and what the hell
I'm almost 38, I can take it
and Jesus Christ it's been five months now,
I really need to get over it
(and I am for the most part, I swear)
but then I realized that the shirt I had on,
that flannel I'd randomly picked,
wasn't too flattering
and I decided to change it because who knows
but if there might be
a desperate unloved girl at the show
willing to settle for a balding loser
in his late 30s,
so I had to look my best
and as I was taking the shirt off to hang it back up
and exchange it for another
I noticed something in the left front pocket
and it felt like money
but when I put my hand in to retrieve it,
it wasn't money,
it was two ticket stubs
from October 20, 2013
Carrie, Showplace 16,
8:30 PM
shit.
Oh, the universe
and all its little
"f*** you, Aarons"...
and so anyway 35 minutes later
when I walked past you
to the counter
to order my coffee
as you were vacuuming
and I awkwardly waved hello to you
I had just walked there
from home
and had dreaded such an encounter
the entire
time;
and sure enough I got it
just thought you
should know
and like I said
I'll delete this
in the morning,
unless I change my mind
like you did,
of course.
The Souvenirs
Since I can't talk to you any other way
I'll just say this now, and delete it in the morning,
and I doubt that anyone will read this between now and then anyway,
and you probably won't either, but just in case,
and don't worry this will never end up in a zine,
but anyway as you know
I always avoid going into your work whenever you are there,
if I can help it,
anyway today was that show and I had to stop and get a coffee,
well I didn't have to but I knew it would make me
feel more comfortable there
if I had something to hold,
so I decided to get a coffee,
now the thing is that about three hours earlier,
before I'd even decided to go to the show
or remembered that it was taking place today at all
I went to take a shower and I
randomly picked a flannel shirt out of my closet,
one I hadn't worn in months,
and got dressed
and went about my day
and f***ed around online
and remembered the show
and I had nothing else to do
and I never leave the house
so I figured what the hell why not
but then the inherent pitfall in the prospect
of the whole coffee-getting-thing beforehand
occurred to me,
(I hem and haw about these things for hours, days, eons)
but then I figured, ah, there's a only a 50 percent chance
she'll be there anyway
and what the hell
I'm almost 38, I can take it
and Jesus Christ it's been five months now,
I really need to get over it
(and I am for the most part, I swear)
but then I realized that the shirt I had on,
that flannel I'd randomly picked,
wasn't too flattering
and I decided to change it because who knows
but if there might be
a desperate unloved girl at the show
willing to settle for a balding loser
in his late 30s,
so I had to look my best
and as I was taking the shirt off to hang it back up
and exchange it for another
I noticed something in the left front pocket
and it felt like money
but when I put my hand in to retrieve it,
it wasn't money,
it was two ticket stubs
from October 20, 2013
Carrie, Showplace 16,
8:30 PM
shit.
Oh, the universe
and all its little
"f*** you, Aarons"...
and so anyway 35 minutes later
when I walked past you
to the counter
to order my coffee
as you were vacuuming
and I awkwardly waved hello to you
I had just walked there
from home
and had dreaded such an encounter
the entire
time;
and sure enough I got it
just thought you
should know
and like I said
I'll delete this
in the morning,
unless I change my mind
like you did,
of course.
A f***ing MASTERPIECE.