kingskottie

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deny defy or crucify you ...it's me.

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hotel lobbies have always been my soapbox... the lounges... the freedom of anon potentate rapture.

i sob openly to strangers.

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STILL UNTITLED... i've had more additions to my chapter by chapter update.

my book. (actually my 3rd.... the other 2 were crybaby shit.)

(see prevoius journal for the first bit)



This is the time I wished I was faster in my decision skills. The cab ride was the exactly the way I would've gone to get my ass out of the line of fire but something lacking the flair I love to live. I pride myself with myself escape routes. Always know the back door, always think of an excuse. Alibis are key to escapism My feeble synapses think that knowing where you have never been....is a beautiful take of reality.

The orange glow was a chromatic disaster. My heart sank as I figured out the most clear deception around. The fire looked beautiful in it's perfect hate. My world had changed.

The faceless robots of the new generation backed their plain white panel vans next to my world. They with all the beauty of Greek gods on crack had unleashed a revolution. We all knew this was coming. We all knew this was the living end. So much for visionary abilities.

"Hey curly, you with me or not?" the cabbie barked at me from behind the plexiglass shield. I was cowered in the corner on the back seat plastic dream scream seat.

" i'm ok."

I'm looking out the back window of a taxi cab seeing the raging pirates take my chickenshit life away.

My mother is there. Despite being dead now 8 years.... I see her fanning the flames i was too scared to fight. The call of self perservance she instilled in me from the day I was born was long gone. Dianogsed with cancer, she fought the decay of nature by taking every cure she could . Every treatment to heart. She died a fighter.

ran at the first glimpse of trouble.

My condo is now on fire. Atleast I think it's mine. They all look alike. i'm giving you a play by play from the rear window of a shitty cab. The condo was my hideout. My place to feel good in my no good life.


My mother is spraying the house with a hose of hope. I'm running.






THIS IS MY UN PROOFED NOVEL I'M WORKING ON. LOVE ME ... HATE ME...

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LISTENING



NEW Shins

THE SHINS "Black Wave"

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READING



Cormac McCarthy's bleak vision of the American landscape has always had a cataclysmic undertone, so it comes as no surprise that THE ROAD is actually set in a post-apocalyptic world of ash and bitter cold where cannibalistic marauders roam the countryside. In this dire place, a man and his son travel towards the sea armed only with a revolver and two bullets. Their love for each other is fierce, but the son begins to realize that his father has, in his desperation, become as savage and brutal as the world around him. Cormac McCarthy writes with a searing white heat, his images and language strike deep in the reader, and his vision of humanity is inexorable and haunting

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HOPING FOR SEX WITH



JANE SKINNER from FOX News.

why?