Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Readers, comrades, this walking slide whistle is looping out another hardship case.  I keep getting ideas for books, write some of it, then get plumb tuckered out.  Off the graze. Procrastination occurs, and it gets more and more like the song ' La Cuckarocha.'   Down below is the first few paragraphs of something that isn't going anywhere.  You'll love it.


Scuzz Muffin

I am large and handsome. Not hard up for money, it is stupid not to get more of it before you need to. I've managed things more liberally, in the past, and regretted it. Never trust a person who claims to have no regrets. It's a symptom of being a serial fuck up. Can't stand remorseless failures.

Focusing on large, it has rendered possible some things rare to other young roustabouts. It was hard to make money in the old days, when peole actually did pick and shovel shit. When that went from okay to intollerable, my peers took to the service trades, and it's been a moral Tarzan flick ever since.

Parting the flood of double talk, I used to be a hired escort, in the upper earning register. If the big freezers are still running all right, you can still cop my frozen jizz gelatos for the price of a Porsche. Look at your arm for why this organic skewing of supply and demand.

Like Alfred Dreyfus' impecunious and dishonorable accuser, I'm going kiss and tell on the Illuminati. It's a dangerous and crummy thing to do. All four hundred some fellatio mavens, married, single, male and female, from out of the extremest of extreme blue books, will just hate me for this. True, true, I'm missing a few spokes in the moral spine department, but they deserve what I'm going to do to them. They used to talk in front of me as if I was a deaf mute with brain damage.
...................
In 1993, I earned about six times the median American income level by merely standing still while painted gold. My penis was gold, as were all twenty fingers and toes. People ask embarrassing questions. I say they deserve the truth,for the cash,so, per fact, every time I had to piss I had to call the make up specialist on the phone, "need help in shithouse, some paint rubbed off." Workmanly is what I'm like.
 

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