meanwhile i'll try not to fret too much. i could go crazier that way. see the blankets twisted. you should see the folds of my mind, crazy quilted. r. says the bed migrates. i finished memories of the future, i admit i didn't get too much out of it. it could be me. it seemed a labyrinth leading all directions not coming out. i think about the blog that way sometimes. let it not be a compendium of woe and whoopie and disillusion. i want to come out of a book having emerged, from something to something. all stories connected everything converged. yet we hear discrete music. something to remind us.
i left that last labyrinth eagerly, it did have an exit strategy, the back cover closed. i was eager to enter TRUMP SKY ALPHA. i haven't read a book about trumpworld. i was too soulsick. i was waiting for the right book, it would have to be a smart and clear artist book. i hope this is it. you can see it lying there by my twisty pink night shroud.
ok mister stirs. i have to leave him soon to do the pointers. once upon a time he would go with me on all my walks. now i will rush back t him. i will have him near me, for some days, perhaps the last days, my heart will break later, but it'll break in waves.