The man who fell in love everyday sat in the sauna next to a dark girl.
He dropped to his knees, kissed her hand and said:
You're beautiful, let me say this, I'm in love with you.
The dark girl said:
Funny man.
The man who fell in love everyday, fell out of love that instant.
He walked over to the infrared sauna and sat next to a redhead.
Again he dropped to his knees and said:
You're beautiful, let me say this, I'm in love with you.
The redhead said:
My hair is a traffic light. That's where you stop.
The man who fell in love everyday, fell out of love that instant.
He walked over to the swimming pool and let himself in.
An older woman swam towards him.
He couldn't drop to his knees, so he floated up to her and said:
You're beautiful, let me say this, I'm in love with you.
The older woman said:
As long as we're in the water, let's marry.
The man who fell in love everyday, fell in love no more.

Eternal Infinite Living One,
can I thank you for my fate
and at the same time curse it?
Well, I do.
You can just go **** yourself
if you think I can't.
So sorry for that,
but it had to come out.
It's like a release of a constipation
I'm suffering lately.
Jesus, one of your friends,
once said: what comes out
is more important than
what goes in,
your kingdom within me
is being assaulted by unknown
enemies, who smoke
dried animal and human excrement,
and not a quality cigar,
well, I wish I was on this
exploratory expedition with
two camels carrying my cigars,
and not looking for your light
with a lantern.
May I pray to you again
for courage, patience and determination,
in finding the route inside me,
and bringing out whatever
cache of preciousness
is hidden there.
Jewel, shine!

There's a living one, he was, he is and always will be. Waiting for the Messiah. Expecting another living one to be sent his way. Sure he would come. Cry it out loud for crying out loud. This one could not exist without a public. So he went looking for a seeing, hearing, feeling individual.

A man in a balloon just landed on earth. Ah, this one's ready, the Mess-Sire thought. Did you know the Messiah is coming? Well, all I know is that I just came down. What did you see up there? A small guy waving up at me. Oh yes, I'm small. Messiah, dunno. Could you help fold the balloon?

A snow covered girl stopped next to him at the traffic light. This one is ready to be warmed. Did you know the Messiah is coming? Phew, all I know is I got a bunch of love letters from heaven. And what do they say? the Mess-Sigher said. Hey, love letters are about love? Wanna read one?

A boy dropped out of a tree. Broke his leg. He cried out loud. Yes, the Mess-**** thought. This one's ready to be healed. Did you know the Messiah is coming? ****, mister, you mean the siren? I need some guys with a stretcher. They won't help. No? Who's gonna carry me to hospital? Eh yeah, that they do. Won't heal your soul though. Want my soul, you can have my broken leg.

The Mess-Sire, the Mess-Sigher and the Mess-**** needed a break. They entered a coffee bar. This is a mess, nobody's listening. At that very moment the Messiah knocked at their door. Nobody home. He slipped into the guise of a postman and wrote a note. Dear believers, you're never home when I call. What do I do? Land in a balloon, pop up at at traffic light, fall out of a tree. You make so much noise you can't hear.

First notice. The Sewer-Side Bomber surfaces from his underground. The plan is there. The object waits. Scan the Terminal Station. Where's the multitude? As if a bomb just dropped. What? Am I trying to be funny? Like the guy over there. Clown promoting cuddlies. Sure toying in the wrong place.

Second notice. The Sewer-Side Bomber shuffles over to the tame side of town. The plan has changed. The object talks. Scan the Parlay-Mental Building. More City-Zens outside than inside. Camera's and guns ready for the shooting match. Carny-Falls. A quarter a shot. You hit bull's eye, your picture is taken. I'm getting funnier by the minute. Like the kid over there. Sandwich suit for some sandwich. Talking bread. What a picture.

Last notice. The Sewer-Side Bomber sneaks over to the polished perimeter. The plan is definite. The object is luck-sure-us. Get this! He walks into the Incontinental Hotel. Ah, marble floor, uniformed smiles, expensive outdoor garb, trolley cases. The Super-Ego has landed. ****, stop being funny. Like the man over there. Buffoon with a boo-quay of roses. Welcome, sir! Hey, what am I here for? Okay, farewell flower. Left hand presents the flower. Right hand chops his breast bone to splinters.

The Sewer-Side Bomber wakes up in hospital. Guy sitting at bedside. I was that funny one, he said. All three? Yep. Knew I wasn't  funny, the Sewer-Side Bomber said. Neither was I, the guy said. Funny though, I had this gutter feeling we went way back.

Eternal Infinite Living One,
well, thanks for the emotional day
yesterday, like a race course
with lots of competitors,
I would like to grow old
as the elderly man I met some years ago,
who spoke to me on the street,
while I was walking my bike
because of a flat tire:
you definitely need a bike
in the city, don't you, he said,
unafraid of strangers,
smiling, with his walking stick,
and clad in an immaculate suit,
notwithstanding the sweltering heat.
Now, what I forgot yesterday:
a quote from a soccer manager,
success is a sleeping pill,
and a low point is a turning point,
and: my fantasy self had to defend
his belief in God to a panel
of scientific atheists,
which is what I stand to do
the rest of my life,
realizing that most of my friends
ridicule you,
so I am to look for the company
of believers.
Come many a company!

Oh, Ah,
You are my
roundabout which
I round with a
minimal velocity
of three heartbeats
a second
chasing a
small guy,
naturally I mean
a small gal
but she doesn’t know it
and the small guy does.

The psychic came home one day from a reading. Out of nowhere his guts started tormenting him. He said to himself, right, you go see a doctor, take pills or not, and then what? Read my guts! (The doctor won't like this.)

So he lay down and read his guts. What did he see? A deep maelstrom, whirling really fast. I must be under water to see this, he thought. He told the doctor and the doctor said, try again, maybe you can start a tropical swimming pool.

So he lay down again and read his guts. What did he see? A huge towering waterfall, like the Niagara Falls, water plunging down. I must be high up in the air to see this, he thought. He told the doctor and the doctor said, try again, you might get the ****** Falls.

So he lay down one more time and read his guts. What did he see? A wildly swollen roaring stream, thrashing down boulders, branches and baby carriages. I must be in there to see this, he thought. He told the doctor and the doctor said, okay, you're washed up, now start a diet and take some pills.

The psychic said, okay, guts don't go on diets and take pills, people do. But wait, I see a long pole with a blue and white flag standing in the stream. What's it doing there?

Eternal Infinite Living One,
well, you're waiting for my words,
I hope, and to be honest I'm
waiting myself, now, their
train is entering the station,
yesterday was an angry day,
reticent, but hard working
in the communal garden,
planting potatoes, for the first
time in my life,
food for thought,
but the anger, what was it,
I felt hampered and obstructed,
not being able to recognize
the feelings underneath,
but last night they suddenly
appeared, the small child in me,
lagging behind, wailing for attention,
the fast mind and the slow emotion,
and that attention I realized
I am now giving to myself,
which feels strange and frightening,
because it demands deep reflection,
not just thinking about the world,
but about loss, about effectively
experiencing how it is to lose
a bond with people and things,
and acting upon it, ritualizing it,
questions I'm asking of myself
that I feared for so long,
because they are answered with
more questions, and it are these
questions that steer one through life,
standing at the wheel that constantly
asks to be turned.
So, another wheel is ready
to start turning, the day is ready
to unfold, the stranger is waiting,
and so are new questions,
from him and from me,
a woman is on my mind,
for the first time in a long stretch,
will she be the next mirage
or maybe a new mirror.
Same thing!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
again the words don't come easy,
forcing myself to write,
well, here they come:
thanks for the relaxed game of tennis
yesterday, and after that
the meal with a friend,
who is going away on vacation
for a month and whom I'll miss,
and now I'm vacillating between
a simple garden job
and just doing nothing,
but I'm nervous and oversensitive
to sound, so I'll do the job,
yesterday I had this imaginary
conversation between my fantasy self
and a writer who asked him
about creativity: well, he said,
to me creativity springs from
the Me and You, the constant
flow of connection between
the self and it's surroundings,
and the mysterious outcome,
a secret that reveals itself in
what one does, says and writes,
and that can't be forced,
it comes and goes whenever it wants,
and the hard labor lies in
keeping up the connection.
So, I pray for doing the work,
with patience, courage and determination,
and long for the float
on your river of inspiration.
Stream gentle stream!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
yesterday I just couldn't write you,
I stood in front of this blank page
and nothing came,
so I decided you had to wait,
just like me,
and now the words come
like a trickling stream,
the twins Anger and Fear
meet other twins: Admiration and Love,
a deadly combination,
for admiration serves as a loyalty
and it's dark side enslavement,
and together with love
they bind one to their subject
or object, and those chains
strangle all true feelings of love,
one realizes that Love is a planet,
with the whole gamut of emotions,
like hope, which in itself is a twin brother
of despair,
once one starts hoping,
one actually is despairing about
a good outcome,
terrible paradox of human life,
so I would name Love a false knowledge,
a knowledge that presents itself
as true, because it provides security,
which always is temporary,
now, what can we know?
We know the moment,
which we can experience as an eternity,
and enjoy or lament.
Stand still and move on!

Mister Two Point Two Miller considered himself always in need of free cash. He put his money where his heart was. Could he call himself wealthy? Well, maybe medium prosperous, medium-lite rich or ultra-lite tycoonish. So, the world was his treasure island.

Mister Two Point Two Miller washed ashore and looked around. Wait, there's another guy on his turf. What you looking for, the other guy said. How about anything over two point two mil? Ah, why that number? Random. Don't you dig that way. No, when I stumble over it, I'll find. Yeah, you'll stumble alright.

Mister Two Point Two Miller woke up on the beach and … eh, no looking around. He had a heartache. Two guys were digging a hole and dropped something in it. They sneaked away. Let's see what's in there. Hashtag. It's x point x mil! The two guys visited him in his beach hut. When they left, he was unconscious for two point two hours.

Mister Two Point Two Miller couldn't sleep. His head was a jungle, his mouth a desert. But his heart was his money. He picked up a torch and went for a prowl. An unlucky moon rolled around heaven all night. Jeez, you scare me, a voice said. I'm not looking for you. Well, you sure found me, the avatar said. Are you real? Hear who's asking. Uh, yeah, you got a point. Thnx for the point, but I gotta go. Seems you haven't found the two point two yet. How do you know I'm looking? Tss, we virtual things have a line on each other.

Right, I'm sticking with you. Mister you're welcome. We two got the point, let's go find the other two.

Eternal Infinite Living One,
thanks for my good and bad habits,
good are the fighting spirit and
the enjoyment of small pleasures,
liking getting a bunch of roses
from my downstairs neighbor
and the chance meeting with
a young girl yesterday I worked with,
but whom I didn't recognize at first,
well, the bad: I feel like a ******,
addicted to a cocktail of anger and anxiety,
a wall between me and all other feelings,
between me and the world,
angry at a small child that played
with a water hose,
remnants of a long period
of copying the image of a strict parent,
sadness that it happens,
and reminiscing the time
I lived with my aunt, because
my parents couldn't find a home,
and not feeling anything but timidity,
not remembering visits of my parents,
except one, of my father who was
confronted with the story I told my aunt,
that he always farted, so I thought
it was absolutely normal,
which my aunt disagreed with.
Well, a **** a day keeps the doctor away!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
well, I bought new shoes,
for the first time in 25 years,
again I dreamed about the farm
where I worked for so long,
this time an ex-friend and his wife
were there, trying to make contact,
but I said, not now, so maybe
I will see him again in the future,
although I don't think so,
radical departures are a fixture
of my life, for better or for worse,
books are a tremendous consolation
in this period, I discovered
a writer, roaming the second hand book stalls,
a face that fascinated me,
an alien from inner space,
rocketed from the Ukraine
and landing in Brazil,
she is Jewish and mystical,
a fringe person like me,
even though she led a famous life,
in the middle of public attention,
this fringe man finally beginning
to accept the borders of the world
where he makes his home,
crossing the lines every now and then,
entering a new land,
which he leaves again after a while,
like Abraham.
Get on your camel!

This guy had a sleeping problem. A friend told him about a man who pitched himself as the Sleep Savant. He had no followers, just told one and all he slept 3 hours during the day and 12 during the night.
The bad sleeper phoned him and said, can we talk?
Only over the phone, the Savant said.
Why so?
You see me, you won’t sleep at all.
So it’s your voice? You talk yourself to slumber?
Well, that must be it, because I never believed in my own advice.
Right, I heard it and I’ll see if it works.
A week later the bad sleeper phoned again.
You got anything else besides your voice? I still don’t sleep like a babe.
You’re asking for a technique? Go see a mechanic.
How about using your own voice, like I use mine.
You heard me twice now.
Ah, like in a movie?
A week later the bad sleeper phoned again.
Hello, I’m still in the woods, don’t know what to do.
Silence at the other end.
Are you there? Should I talk to you in your own voice?
Silence.
Well, here I go
He made a show of the Savant’s voice.
Silence.
But, no, a soft snoring sound came thru the speaker.
A week later the bad sleeper phoned again.
Well, it worked for you didn’t it? But not for me.
What next?
Right, you want some bad advice. Just pretend you’re watching a movie of a guy sleeping, me, anybody, yourself.
A movie? After a movie I hardly sleep at all.
Then visualize yourself walking up to my place, following a hundred signs.
But then I’ll see you?
Yeah, you got me there, phone me in a week.
A week later the bad sleeper phoned.
Hey Savant, I slept like a newborn set of Siamese twins and you were the other one.
Right, get a surgeon, we need to be separated, cause I’m not sleeping anymore.

Delicately unsure of myself, he thought. But he wrote: What goes slow, should go fast, but it doesn't. Had a tooth pulled, it was a fast one. And then it released pain, instead of releasing of it. And that was a slow one.

Delicately unsure of myself, he thought. But he wrote: Something other is pulled together with the tooth. Like what? Fear of pain. The pain I tried to push far from me, I pulled closer by having the tooth pulled.

Delicately unsure of myself, he thought. But he wrote: Something changed inside me. First, the pain doesn't go fast, it goes slowly. Second, what is slow and not fast? Waiting. Patience is the patient's best friend.

Delicately unsure of myself, he thought. But he wrote: All suffering is becoming. But what am I becoming? Ah, get off my cloud of unknowing.

Delicately unsure of myself, he thought. But he wrote: I trust this virtual paper to pull something out of me.

Delicately unsure of myself, he thought. But he wrote: No matter, sure to be unsure. There's some surety in that. And delicate? Oh, that'll stick around.

Delicately unsure of myself, he thought. But he wrote: Something's pulling at my intestines. They know, but they can't tell yet. Or have they done just that? Sounds like, you've been pulling one on yourself.

The Gifter had a job to do. He wasn't sure what it was, but he took it in hand anyway. At the start of the meeting a gift materialized in his hand. The recipient wondered: what does he want from me? Oh, just see it as a gesture, the Gifter said. Like a friendly smile.

The Gifter had another job to do. Again he wasn't sure what it was, but …. what the heck. After the first lesson he went up to the teacher and a gift materialized in his hand. The recipient was amazed: I didn't expect this.  What do I do with this choice of nuts? Oh, just see it as a first helping, the Gifter said. Make some tea and put them in a bowl.

The Gifter had a job to do. Again. He wasn't sure what it was, but... he enjoyed the feeling. At the house of a lazy friend in need a gift materialized in his hand. The friend was embarrassed: What's this? I must say I appreciate it, but it feels like you're wrapping me in paper. Oh, just see it as a kick starter, the Gifter said. All you have to do is unwrap.

The Gifter met up with his brother, the Grifter. Long time no speak, the Gifter said. Yeah, how's the job going? the Grifter said. Can't complain. Seeing myself as a fraud works like a devil. I took your advice, the Grifter said. Seeing myself as a friend pays off divinely.

A gift materialized in their hands. Why do I deserve this, the Gifter said. I deserve this and more, the Grifter said.

It's a balmy spring evening. There's a couch, a cigar and green tea. And there's a man. The window's on a crack. In creep a pair of green eyes, fuzzy redhead and soft paws. Potted palm, some ceramic and a picture frame get knocked over. Some looking around. A sudden leap and the mouse is caught. One last look around and mouse in mouth vanishes through the window. Knocking over a candle.
Thanks Kitty. I'll call you Alibi. Leave the rest to the cleaning lady.

It's a sweaty summer evening. There's a couch, a cigar and a glass of chilled white wine. And there's a man. The window's on a crack. In creep a pair of pale yellow eyes, bushy black head and soft paws. Potted yucca, bronze statue and glass object get knocked over. Some delicate scanning. A sudden leap and the mouse is caught. One last scan and the mouse in mouth vanishes through the window. Knocking over a vase with an artificial flower.
Thanks Kitty. I'll call you Alias. Leave the rest to the cleaning lady.

It's a sweltering autumn evening. There's a couch, a cigar and a glass of cool beer. And there's man. The window's on a crack. In creep a pair of hooded eyes, capped head and gloved paws. Potted vegetables, glass tea *** and cooking pan get knocked over. Some tentative spot lighting. A sudden leap and the gold watch is caught. One last beam and gold in mouth vanishes through the window. Knocking over a bottle of beer.
The man opens his eyes. Thanks Kitty, for not ******* on the table. I'll call you Bias. Leave the rest to the cleaning lady.

It's a rainy winter evening. There's a couch, a cigar and a hot grog. And there's a man. The window’s an invitation.

Eternal Infinite Living One,
well, apart from writing you
so little, I also forgot to show
my gratitude for all you
give and take,
that done I open the tap
of my word piping:
all is always an apple,
one either takes a bite
or lets it hang,
depending on how the guts decide,
for they are more intelligent
than the mind,
well, at least in my case,
for I can't walk in another person's
shoes, even if I wish
I could sometimes,
so I walk in my new shoes
and bite the fresh apple,
which is a visit to my mother,
whose heavy presence
resembles mine with other people,
how to combine lightness
with the heavy load,
inner feather that floats
in this heavy world,
courage, patience and determination
I pray for again and again
and again.
Let the juices trickle from my mouth!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
well, many thanks again for
the cooling rain of yesterday
and today, and for
the tears of goodbye
I felt welling up during the day,
even if they were propelled
by my daily fantasy of a
life I do not lead,
of an older actor finally
realizing his time has come
to stop making movies,
recalling all the hassles and troubles
he met in performing,
and missing just these the most,
now, this is the wonder of life,
that one ends up being grateful
for it's difficulties and less for
it's joys, that's the way you work
in us, because the hardships
give us more than the soft successes,
and in the meanwhile
the winds of the world breathe
a new chill, carrying
the next lessons and exercises,
and a new death with a newborn life.
Have a drink with a drop of my tears!

Two boys loved to go fishing. One was tall and proud, but small and timid on the inside. The other was small and soft, but tall and strong on the inside.
One day they went fishing in the river. The tall and proud one wore an old and shabby coat, but had a lot of money on him, his savings for a scooter. The small and timid one wore a flashy new coat, but his wallet was practically empty, having spent all his money on the flashy new coat.
With their rods and bait they looked for a good spot to fish. The tall and proud one proposed a bet: who would catch the biggest fish. Alright, said the small and timid one, what does the winner take? As much money as I have in my wallet, said the tall and proud one, thinking so I can buy the best scooter there is. Well, the small and timid one thought, if I lose it’ll cost me my new coat and I’ll be cold for the whole winter. But if I win, I can buy my little brother a coat. We have a bet, he said.
They chose a quiet spot at the river bend and sat waiting till the fish would bite.
Soon afterwards the tall and proud one caught a small fish, but threw it back in the water. A little later he caught another small one and again threw it back. The big fish are yellow, he thought.
The small and timid one felt a pull on his rod, drew it up and noticed that the bait was gone. He tried again, but same thing: the bait was gone. The fish are smart today, he thought.
In the meantime it was getting dark. Two other boys came walking along the river. They had a mind to rob someone. Look, one of them said, two guys fishing. Let’s see if they caught something. I could use a nice meal. Well, the other one said, I hope they have some money, so we can treat ourselves to a restaurant.
Stealthily they swooped down on the fishers. With knives out they demanded them to hand over what they got.
We haven’t caught anything, the boys said.
You don’t have any money? the robbers said.
I’m saving for a new scooter, the tall and proud one said, and started to cry.
Give it to me, the restaurant eater said.
Shaking all over the tall and proud one handed it to him.
What about you? the home eater said to the small and timid one.
I’ve only got my new coat, he said.
Give it to me, maybe I can swap it for a better fisher than you.
Calmly he handed over his new coat.
I’ll be cold now.
You really cold?
Alright, take back your coat, now give me your rods and can of fat worms.
And off they went.
The two boys walked back home. One without the money to buy a new scooter, the other with his new coat still on, the first small and timid, the second strong and proud.
One robber spent all the money on a multi course meal at a fancy restaurant, and ended up feeding the fish with his puke.
The other robber went fishing with the rod and bait but clumsily kicked over the can and the worms ended up in the river.
And the winner of the fishing match? That were the fish. First they took all the bait of the two boys, then they feasted on the remains of a copious meal and for dessert they got a whole can of worms.

Well, have you heard, have you seen?
What?
Soccer player keeps the ball airborne running.
Yeah? Your imagination, that’s what’s running.
No, my imagination stops when I see him doing it.
So? What’s he do?
Oh, you need telling twice?
Flips the ball past the defender, catches it on the other foot,
flips it past the next player.
Yeah, sure, gimme some detail on how.
Well, upper body at between 10 and 11 degrees, ball trajectory the same.
When did he find that out?
Exercising thru the bushes in the park, avoiding prickly branches,
trunks sticking out, logs diagonal.
Policeman asks what’s he doing. Go back to school.
Yes, he says, and doesn’t.
Wanted to put in 6 hours a day of ball control.
No school?
No, he was his own teacher and pupil.
Only cooked for the family.
Mother alcoholic, sisters rebellious.
Oh, so a monomaniac?
A solomaniac, is better.
But why this air solo?
Well put. You want to intercept the ball,
you have to commit a foul.
You didn’t succeed, all sorts of space
opened up for him and his team.
You ever played against him?
Eh, I’m just an observer, a sports fan, a bit of a scout.
He still doing it?
No, he’s retired. Walks up and down
stairs with the ball in the air,
jumps fences and catches the ball on the other side.
Sounds like the circus?
Guess you could say that.
Appears on TV explaining the technique.
But so far nobody has been able to copy.
What does he say?
Slightly bent knees, catch the ball close
to the ground, center of gravity low.
It’s like a dance.
And the ball is his partner?
Well said.
He takes the ball for a stroll
in the park. Kids love it.
Walking the ball?
Hey, you got a way with words.
Sounds like a lonely guy.
No, he’s got me.
How’s that?
Well, you could say I’m keeping
him in the air.
Ah, still a fantasy.
When he lands on my feet
he’s real as a double
and true as a story.

Eternal Infinite Living One,
I find it hard to write you today,
why? Because there is so much to
say and this tsunami of feelings
makes me run for cover,
but I reappear from behind
the wall, and the words flow out,
like a counterpoint to crushing waves,
well, take yesterday, I met someone,
no, two people, who might influence me
greatly in the future, and already have
stimulated me that day,
and this morning I dreamed
of a young woman whom I felt
deeply about, and she said: you're
pivoting so much, at which I cried,
after visiting a play in which
firemen wet the players,
now, back to yesterday:
at the communal garden,
where they were serving pizza,
I talked to one of the initiators,
and his dream of starting a city farm
caught me by surprise,
and his question if I would be interested
in participating,
and later that night I met the
Red Hair Renate, of whom I've
been thinking many years now,
but I was paralyzed, and couldn't
act upon a dream come true,
surely I will see her again,
well, thanks for all this,
because it's like a wake up call
to courage, patience and determination
I've been praying for so long,
and my fantasy self remained silent,
for once, the real one
is on the hitting spot.
Swing that bat!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
well, I met the stranger again,
and presented my fantasy self,
which he saw as an imaginary friend,
a way I never saw him,
and what did my fantasy self say to me
this morning: loss, my boy,
is what you experience everyday,
each moment something goes,
and with it something comes,
but what that is you never know,
and the chaos of loss
confronts you with hidden
talents and possibilities,
a fountain that springs up
inside you, a water that
is alive and looks for dryness
and barren ground,
and the hard thing about it
is that you see the desert
and have to look for the water,
cool, clean water,
and look for the deepest pit as well,
yes, actually look for it,
the hardest thing of all.
Make that pitstop!

The Big Man in a Small Sports Car waited before a traffic light. A policeman came over and said: Sir, you're a protected city scape. Don't heed the red light.
What kind of justice is this? I'm waiting.
You want justice? I'll fine you for not exercising your privilege.
Yeah, that's justice. Now I'm gonna eat asparagus.

The Big Man in a Small Sports Car reported at a movie set as an extra. With a few friends he had to row a sloop. In a straight line. They ended on the cutting room floor. Well, that's a straight line for you. Now I'm gonna eat asparagus.

The Big Man in a Small Sports Car took a course in horse whispering. I'm a heavy talker. How do I do this?
Look at the animal, the teacher said. It's heavy without talking. Try it yourself. Right, that's easy. Now, don't look at the animal. And move slowly. Right, that's not easy. They circled each other, coming closer.
Then the Big Man in a Small Sports Car whispered: Hey, wanna go eat asparagus?

The What It Is Kid jumped into his sideswiped sedan. It felt good. (Hey, his girlfriend said, we could do better.) He planned to make a blast, like a rubber bonfire. First swerve, some screeching smell. Next curve, some pebble sparks. Last turn, a nice gully. Sure thing, his skin did fireworks. The better it gets, the sooner it stops, his girlfriend said.

The What It Is Kid slipped into the Bar None. It felt great. (Hey, his girlfriend said, we could do greater.) He planned to take a bath, like a diver in a sea of drink. First shot, ah, ground swell. Next shot, hot spring bubbles. Last shot, wow, what a spray. Sure thing, his socks took a wash in his puke. The better it gets, the sooner it stops, his girlfriend said.

The What It Is Kid stumbled into the Junk Food Joint. It felt super. (Hey, his girlfriend said, we could do hyper.) He planned a burial, like a Fair-O in a Pyramid of Fat. First bite, stabilizing staple. Next bite, reaching for the sky. Last bite, a highway to the stars. Sure thing, his heart did a bypass. The better it gets, the sooner it stops, his girlfriend said.

It's what it is, she said to the ambulance guy.

Eternal Infinite Living One,
it's been a few days that I wrote you,
plagued by insecurity
and stomache aches,
but now I'm back,
and this is what I have to say:
I'm torn between
intent and energy,
my intentions are good,
but the energy doesn't flow,
forced as I am to feel first
and then move,
and what I feel is covered
in the mist of my life,
with a few clear spots,
like working at the maintenance
of gardens and park,
which makes me dream
of my personal Eden,
from which I have been driven,
but to which I will return,
when I don't know,
and from which I will be driven again,
and to which I will return,
in a cycle of events
and inner movement,
I feel lost,
and only the Church of Saunology
keeps my standing,
while I'm lying down,
the heat helps me concentrate
on my body,
and slows down the mind,
which is overactive
and oversensitive.
Now, my emotional ballast
can be slowly minimized,
and maybe I can float
like a balloon in the future,
with a regular spurt
of gas fire,
an artificial ****.
Fartificial!

A boy walked in a mist.
He couldn't see for a hundred meters.
He felt he was lost.
He walked on, but the mist only thickened.
He followed a path that suddenly ended.
And now? he said to himself.
Next to him a hedgehog appeared out of the bush.
Hedgehog, he said, how do you find your way in this dense mist?
Well, said the hedgehog, I'm a prickly animal and my sharp pins sense
whether there’s danger or not.
But, said the boy, I'm lost and afraid.
Now, said the hedgehog, that's because you only use your eyes.
What you see is just mist and that's nothing to be afraid of.
But I don't have your prickly pins, said the boy.
Oh, said the hedgehog, but if you're afraid of the fog, just sit down
and wait till it dissolves.
How long? said the boy.
Just how long it takes, said the hedgehog.
Remember, your eyes are connected to your brain.
And so are your skin, ears and nose. Those are your pricklies.
I'll tell you what, said the boy, can I sit next to you for a while?
Right, said the hedgehog, sit down and enjoy what you see,
because what you see is mystery, not danger.