A Bad Robot’s Day at Burning Man

“Hello, so what are you doing around here?” he asked, making small talk finally alone with her on the patio. “Playing the role of the Oracle in this game we call Life: As We Know It.” Josh started laughing with giddiness at how naturally coy she was when she was communicating with additional eye contact layers.               Oh, holybejeezusfuckself, get control of things, please stop laughing you idiot wreck, be cool. Why the fuck did you drink 5 coffees earlier you fuck of a fuckstickarg

“You’re cute when you laugh, what’s your name, hm? Why do you ask?”

“Josh,” he said, shaking his head with a dazed smirk. “Forgive me but you’re just really hot and I drank copious amounts of coffee while everyone else was downing beers and I gotta piss like crazy so when I’m done I gotta bolt. Hell of a way to meet..”

“You think I’m hot?” She smiled at him, raising her eyebrows. “Do you plan on coming back outside after you piss?”

“uhhh no, sorry, probably not. It’s late.” The cigarette was about halfway finished.

“You never did tell me why you were here.”

“Well that’s top secret.”

“I guess your last name probably is too then, huh?”

“Wouldn’t matter, but I’m sure you know that.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “I wonder if you’re the Josh I’ve been waiting for all my life, or just another one of the million and none Joshes that isn’t the one who holds my heart.”

They finished their smokes.

Josh hesitated, “You know- I wish I could’ve planned for,”

But Katrina was already saying, “Well we could shoot the shit and chug coffee in my room if that suits you but you’ve got a look of regret on your face… Oh, and I do have a toilet.”

Josh winced at his bladder. “I’m kind of expected to chaperone the person I’m sharing a suite with or I would, I have to go. [unintelligible mumbles] Bye.”


So my buddy came into the pub this evening and he works out in the four corners region, rockstar guy, drives a harley, concert promoter, think he plays bass for some speed metal band with a disease name. Unique one though, no tattoos. Likes to show off the bod. Anyway, he’s so psyched he’s sweating through his shirt, and he’s like, “Andy, gotta show you something, buy me a beer, I’ve earned it!” Then he proceeds to undo his buckle, drop trou full frontal. I’m standing there unable to blink- frozen by the sheer incredulity of this hyperreal punchline.

“They call it the Area 51 Body Swap! The wife’s on base doing this new RV test and now I got a whole new perspective on my better half!” Needless to say, Byron broke every glass in the keep trying to tend bar after that. Thank Christ for cheap Solo cups man!

if i pocket my watch will you observe me this time?

i’m so numb and unwarm. rewinded completely but not restarted. the damage is there and it won’t be forgotten. recorded and reported, but i couldn’t. defend. myself. so i leave this post early. ascending the curtain pull then sitting there, Cheshire grin.  rescinding the invitation to knot three loops in the rites of root. don’t worry; it’ll take route.. i won’t be gardening til the point is superior moot.

i wrestle the voices back out of the cockpit to reclaim that gazebo on the patio for a peaceful sunning. i’m happy to be a woman adult. having outgrown infatuation for good (so i hope), yet not become an atheist.. not become a cynical cunt.  do keep in mind that this is a journal, no one reads such things, nonsense.  sentences broken, needn’t a heart to have the resemblance of emotions. reflections of words on a computer screen echo across to other empty beings to pretend that they exceed the meaning of serenity indeed.

i love my nights, i love my knights, i love my blights. i miss the butterflies and the mayflies alike.

i like to think that i’ll get what i want but i know there’s a lot stacked against me yet. i don’t really fret it anymore. i have to keep myself aware; though i’ve done so well, i clearly got careless.

at least jon knows, i fucking love you, jon. put up with me spouting about the fantastic winter night with a muse from the stars and sure, i can pat myself on the back, but i’m still a work in progress. i think i forgive me for revisiting that still, so i hope you do too. you’re the best.

bouncing back out of arizona to kansas today.

ring around the rosetta stones

I had set off on a 45-minute tour and the fire had not yet crumbled into dusk. I was awash in laments as usual wishing that any number of things were possible right this very now.

I can’t divide at that line every time we come to it, love. I can’t mark down the words that were if the severed song is the sonnet for a risen sun mi amour aec7acc3ludi. Worn of watts indefinite none like to turn away from the light. Makes for marginal maneuvering in meat-space when the detritus thoughts collide. Packing the work into the loops while the wise-men concur, I feign authorization when my voice is at the beckoning call.

I was lying to myself as usual, because, as a matter of fact, I’m pathetically lonely without you. I just don’t have that facial recognition anymore, but that was excruciatingly necessary and you probably know it, if you’re still out there. Alive or not, there’s an ember somewhere, I can feel the need to see what I’ve unearthed just scathing in my veins.   Ghosts don’t scare me, but I’m not afraid to admit anymore that actual zombies do. Robots or not, the absent of mind in forms of current time; easy enough to ignore in day to day life, but the ongoing task of imitating them can sometimes rend me.

I don’t necessarily start out each day with the goal of providing anyone with a product, but I abide that one truth law [of time] as much as consciously possible. Awareness situational; just that I never can pick my own safe-houses. There is always the other truth in triad, but it earns no terminology via English all the same as it earns no terminology in electrons illuminating these words in whatever way. I was faithful in 1999, but frail. When the recordings we made of any media get stuck in my head, it still comforts me more than it frightens me. I’m grateful that I still have those dream-whirled discs to revisit.

she saved it for later

later, lincoln logged. he pursed his eyebrows at the pun she’d inevitably saddled him into. if ignorance is bliss, and redundancy increases data integrity, we had rows of angry and furious databases full of ideas at the ready for the impending rally.  we wanted to wake up, we had a reason, we had purpose that went beyond promises.  we just didn’t know that there would not be enough oxygen in the mix and the aergel we were prepared for wasn’t so easy to aspirate.  it was a hard set of conditions to adjust to, but we all survived the recovery transition.

i’m alone once more, female as always, and no alignment can be inscribed. i’ve been throwing the boomerang out every night and dais, but no dice. i may be a rare one but i’m always going to be someone’s cliche. i have another maneuver to make but i feel fear for what the fool’s forgotten. i’m only as sincere as the ramifications of departure can ink me to be..

sentinel science post-assembles to shed shame

but regardless of whether or not i change my name he’d never say the same. all i ever did was duplicate in a way that couldn’t be verified or reconstituted.. but i am still often rendered hopeless for days that cannot be. the years have passed and the sentences revealed i couldn’t spell soliloquy even though i could act one out. there’s nothing to equate the embarrassment i suffer to harassment when i’ve become employed as another’s jester. this time i’m assured it’s fair, but the wheels on the ground don’t roll that bus or reveal the bust in the limelight. even in daylight i pass as any other suburbanite even though dust storms conceal the cataracts from the lenses of those of us who can’t paint with the stars in any kind of light.

i still don’t shiver when my flesh is prickling, i only knew one person to ever tame a hyena. i can’t refer to the prince or princess like i can refer to the blankets or sheaths of the crop. it’s just a different language regardless of how it translates..

bleeding salt tears from my brood years’ deevolution

When your eyes shone blue-
You gazed right thru me,
knowing you’d love me, you found
Something more to hang on to.

——————————————-

If I could help you lose yourself in a whole new light in the dark of night, I would.
Blood moon rises and falls tomorrow night and you make me feel understood..
As distant we’re friends and with our own scars and faults you always made me feel good.
Every night I take time to look at the stars over here- where you are, do you think you could?

method of a maverick ®

first the cleftmeadow and next the wall socket, the zoetrope finds itself unwhirled in its original state of fluid discs.

secondhand a string quadradth, slopes decay in the urbanalysis of silv’strummd plateaue

na-hayal verid-eyes’ inheritance slugs naught in the view-red reared; it’s ugly head, Sid my amorous m’Eire.

two hundred cigarwords later i’m not even an aspirant to know the life of Rhett. didn’t even want to remember the hayalei corps from what limited a whirled it wharfed. cadavers love lingo and lie in wait with the lions’ hate. better watch yourself because the spiegel has landed.

seizure searching for answers, clues haven’t flavours of words. i’m just another one of those spiders that couldn’t even see a world in which the statue of liberty actually exists, except when it’s on a movie.  downtown is aft; wall street at the mast- severanced to hold the chambers with fully loaded revolvers.

i’m usually too useless to write a whole entire book, and i have no reason to believe that this one will be any different, amorsscienti mahalo septourro hedron assuaging nottingheil. a re-code for every snow day we didn’t honestly snow.

due what thou wilt; tell them what i’ve found– a cycle recycled hubris next to nothing.

i still don’t happen to have a set of dominoes. nor navigable friends in this sea of beings human that hath been reimparted to me. at least i’m an ineligible age.

i shouldn’t have posed it as a question

because it’s not all fun and games in the lottery business.  i don’t like discovering what warfare breaks out and being helpless to it just because of the mingling between my bloodline and my lifeline.  being given back the honor of living as a civilian is wonderful but that wonder is filled with highs and lows that swerve in every direction to avoid feeling that alienating sensation that less mature individuals call love, sentient people and animals know as much as i do that caution is an exercise in discipline that is hard to maintain.

studying the human brain as long as my fambly has, it’s a struggle to be a disciple of anything, if you’re encountering constant challenges to your convictions.  one human woman to another, or worldly born as a man, it’s easier to mourn one’s own heart if it disobeys the happenstance of wanting to love only one person. as an executive from my perspective, it’s terrible to be summoned to disqualify a doctor on the terms that i had been scheduled to deliver on.

it may not be true that i’ve never had children but the truth is that i could never menstruate in the hospice care i was in.  i was technically sterilized and since i’ve turned 30 i’m regaining my health and it’s scary. the process of donating my eyes was really difficult to plan. but it was necessary. if they didn’t regenerate in a particular way, i couldn’t have survived the hollow.  later, when my eyes readapted, and my auditory nerves were not hypersensitive, i was shown an amazing documentary of medicine provided to north korea and in particular the treatment of cataracts and glaucoma to train their doctors.  no one takes perfection more seriously than north korea, and having visited korea due to a snowed-in flight when i was 14, i just don’t know where to begin.  so i won’t. it was amazing, beautiful, i didn’t want to leave and i did all i could to remember everything i talked about with Steve.  i’ll never forget staying as a guest of the airline at that hotel in Seoul.

an ocean liner of succession

shockingly funny how afk-ing from the military can put you on jury duty and then benedict you into someone else’s shoes.

fortunately, the correct turtle is still dead, and the incorrect turtle marches happily along with some kickass technically assimilating institutions.  people who eat gold food can’t really see colored tattoos.  the gold plated magnum ice cream bars are real, people.  go to zoolander school yourself if you don’t believe you gotta live a long hard life to sleep peacefully with the fishes.