We took the back road to the house. The shade from the trees made the road feel like tunnel. Not a shred of light came in. We'd have to drive slow. The road wasn't made of concrete: it was made of dirt, rock, and dead leaves. Sometimes we could see the worms come up out of the dirt in the headlights, their pink stretching bodies like weird little fingers. Carrie never looked. She said it was too scary. The rest of us would look and watch them dance around like that. Sometimes we'd have to run them over. Of course, we'd feel bad about it, but we needed to get back to the house. There were things to be done. Nothing planned, but nonetheless, things to be done.
Englend reversed the car up to the front door. The liquor, the food, and the beer was in the back and would make it easier to get it from there. Patty and Carrie (the one scared of the worms) ran straight to the bathroom. They'd been complaining about how we never stopped at a gas station to ***. Englend said we didn't have the time and I just didn't care. Denny was in the same mindset as me. We usually were. Kat was looking out the window, thinking about something she didn't wish to share when we started to unload. She offered to help after she'd finished her thought, but the three of us said we had it. We didn't really, but we let her have her thought while we carried the bags. There weren't that many to complain about anyway.
When everyone was inside unpacking their things, I hung back and smoked a cigarette. I looked down at the river. It was full and rushing. The trees were full with bright, lime green leaves. The branches were tanned auburn from the sun. They looked the forearms of the Mexican girls at my high school: smooth, everlasting, stretching to a place I was never allowed to touch or look at. I ashed my cigarette into a pile of leaves and immediately worried that I was going to start a fire. I kicked it out, thrusting my boot heel into where I thought the ember had went.
"What the hell are you doing?" Englend screamed from the front porch, a handle of whiskey underneath his arm, a glass with ice in the other.
"Ashed into the leaves," I told him, "Trying to take it out." I kicked the leaves a few more times, then walked towards Englend.
"Let me get a hit of that," I said, pointing at the handle.
He spun the top and it rolled off the tread. The cap rolled off the deck and Englend chased after it, handing me the bottle first.
"Take this. Where'd the hell it go?"
"Down there somewhere," I said, pulling the bottle back. The sweetness of the whiskey hit my nostrils first, then the bite of the liquor. I coughed, feeling my eyes begin to water. The first one was always the hardest. After that, they got easier.
June had just ended. July was just arriving. The third was tomorrow and the next day was the fourth.
I took another pull from the handle. I placed on the decks railing and left Englend with it. He was still looking around for the bottle cap.
"I thought I saw it roll under the deck," I told him.
"*******," he moaned. He looked up at me, "Come and help me. It'll be faster with two."
"Can't. Gotta' check on Carrie and get ourselves a room."
"*******," he moaned again, reaching under the deck.
"Don't get your hand bit by a possum or rat or something!" I yelled behind me, going inside. "Carrie!" I screamed, "Where'd you go?"
"Upstairs getting our room ready!" I heard her scream from the 2nd floor, "Come and help me put the sheets on."
I went into the kitchen. Denny was stocking the fridge with the beer and the meat. I reached over his shoulder and grabbed a Budweiser. He had an open one in between his knees. The light stuff was on the bottom to the far left, the heavy stuff in the middle, and the expensive IPA, hoppy stuff to the far right. The top shelf was for food, mixer, and whatever else the girls had decided to get at the store. Fruit and things. I opened up the freezer. There were two handles of Smirnoff resting on three large bags of ice. We would need more ice. I closed the freezer and ran my fingers of the labels of two more handles of Cazadorés tequila and Bulleit bourbon. Overall, I thought we were fairly stocked for the four day weekend, but one could never be to sure. People came out of the wood work for the 4th of July. No telling who would show up at our front door.
I went upstairs to see what Carrie was doing. She was laying on the bed with the sheets resting on the dresser. The light was off. The room was cast in that light grey pigment that happens when the bedroom light isn't there. It was nice. The sun had been straining my eyes the whole time even though I had been driving in the backseat. Carrie was laying face down on the bed. She was wearing a skirt, so I slowly laid down on the bed and inched her dress up. She didn't flinch or move, so I pulled it up until I saw her burgundy lace *******. They looked pressed or ironed or something they looked so clean.
"What're you doing?" Carrie asked me, her face down into the mattress.
"Just looking," I said.
"At what?"
"At your ****."
"Why?"
"Cause' it's nice."
"Close the door."
I got up, closed the door, and laid back down.
"Lets put the sheets on the bed first."
"OK," I said.
We put the sheets on the bed, but couldn't wait for the pillows and the rest of the blankets. We tried to be quiet, but knew we weren't. After, we took a shower together. I rubbed Carrie's shoulders while the hot water rained down on us. She said it was better to get a massage in the shower because the hot water loosened up the muscles. I didn't know if that was true or not, but I did it anyway. I watched her as she unpacked her bag. Her hair was wet and it swung back and forth, wetting her back. She was wrapped in her favorite pink towel. Water dripped from her body down to the floor. I waited to put my things away. I had brought up very little. Mostly *****. Carrie took up most of the dresser. I had one drawer by the time we were finished.
We took a nap. After we were done sleeping, we looked outside and saw the sun had been replaced with the night. The stars and the light coming from inside of the cabin streaked out into the forest like a splash of golden florescent paint. Carrie and I poked our heads outside to listen to the creaking trees and the rustling of animals through the bush. Someone downstairs was lightly clattering dishes as they cleaned them while the smell of red maple firewood burning in the fireplace came up to our room. I took out my phone from my pocket and looked at the time.
"****," I said, "It's already 10 o'clock."
"I'm starving."
"I'm starving and need a drink."
"Let's go downstairs and see what they made."
I slipped on my 501's while Carrie straightened up her hair. We went downstairs and saw two plates with hamburgers and fries on them. Patty was at the sink cleaning the pots and pans. She was staring down into the soapy froth, humming a song to herself I couldn't understand. She hadn't heard us come down. Denny, Englend, and Kat weren't in the living room.
"Where is everybody?" I asked.
"Oh!" Patty burst. She swung around, a soaped up frying pan in her hands. "You scared the **** out of me!"
I put my hands up, "Gotcha!" I said smiling.
"They went for a walk somewhere and left all the dishes for me."
"Leave'em," Carrie said, taking Patty's hands and wiping the soap away with a rag, "Van and I will take care of them."
"I only have a few more..."
"I insist!" Carrie took Patty's arm and lead her to the couch and laid her down. I took a cup from the pantry, filled it with ice, and poured Bulliet half-way up. I handed the glass to Carrie and she brought it to Patty.
"Look at that," Patty smiled, "Full-service."
"What you get when you come up to the Dangerson cabin."
"**** right!" I exclaimed through a bite of hamburger, "Only the best here."
Patty leaned her head back after taking a long sip of the whiskey. She exhaled and closed her eyes. I watched her as her chest heaved up and down. She kicked off her shoes and let her hair fall over the armrest of the couch.
"You said they went into the woods, Patty?"
Carrie took her burger and went and sat next to Patty.
"Lift your legs up," Carrie said, "Let me sit with you."
"Yeah. They went into the woods an hour or so ago. Probably a little less."
I opened the fridge and grabbed another beer.
"What were they going out there for?"
"I have no idea."
"Probably to get firewood or something," Carrie said, "Can you grab me one of those."
"Sure," I said, tossing her one.
"Wait," She yelled, throwing her hands in the air. The beer landed right in one of her flailing hands.
"Nice catch," I laughed, opening the fridge and grabbing another.
"You're such a ****!"
I smiled and walked out onto the deck.
"He really is," I heard Carrie tell Patty.
"I heard that!"
"You were meant to!" she called back to me, laughing.
I shook my head and opened the can of beer. Why did they decide to go get firewood now? We had plenty of wood here already. Patty probably didn't know what she was talking about. That happened often. I strained my eyes to see through the darkness, maybe see if I could spot a flashlight or the round end of a lit cigarette, but the forest was just a wash of thick blackness. Even the stars had grown faint.
"Englend!" I shouted.
Nothing. Not a peep. They were far out there.
"Englend!" I shouted again.
"What the hell are you shouting at?" a voice said from the trees. I couldn't tell who it was, but it was someone I knew.
"Who the hell is that?"
"Well who the hell do you think it is?" It was Englend. He came out of the trees like a wild boar. He had a handle of whiskey in one hand with a pile of small twigs and firewood in the other. What came to mind first was a mix between a drunken Brawny guy and a pinecone.
"What's all the screaming about?" Kat asked, trailing behind Englend. Denny followed behind. They all had armfuls of wood. From what I saw, little would be useful, but I kept that to myself.
Englend came up the deck and handed me the handle. I took a long pull. As I drank, I looked up into the stars, which were now out and shining brighter than they were before. A cloud had moved, wavered off somewhere, presenting the gifts that were behind it. I lowered the bottle and watched Denny and Kat walk up the stairs. They were smiling.
"What are you two so happy about?" I asked, handing Denny the whiskey.
"Gimme' that!" Kat snagged it out of my hand, laughing. She took a long pull. Denny, Englend, and I watched, amazed that little hippy Kat could take such a heavy shot.
"Good God," I murmured.
"She drinks like a pirate," said Denny.
"A ****** pirate," added Englend.
Kat was especially small. Not a small person small, but petite. She also had a great *** and could out drink, out party, and out do the rest of us in debaucherous shenanigans. She had never heard of the word or feeling of shame either and did, really, whatever the hell she felt like.
"I heard that you *******," she said, exhaling, blinking her eyes wildly.
"That was a biggun'," Denny said, taking the bottle and pulling it.
"Needed it. Englend had us wandering around the ******* forest for firewood the minute we got here."
"Do we even need any?" I asked.
"Course we do!" Englend exclaimed, "Gotta' keep our ladies warm!"
He put his arm around Kat and shook her.
"Gross..." Kat frowned, her face pickling while she squirmed out of his arms.
"You love it Kat...where's Patty? Where's my babe!?" Englend thundered off into the house.
"I'm right here," Patty squealed. She was still on the couch with Carrie. She kicked her feet crazily as Englend jumped on her. Carrie jumped off just before he cannon balled onto the couch.
"You guys are SICK!" Carrie screamed.
"You love it," they both said in unison. The two of them play wrestled until Patty finally got Englend by the ***** and kissed him.
Denny handed Kat the bottle," You want another?" he asked.
"I'm good, Denny," she said.
"Hank?" He asked me.
"I'll take one, yeah," I said. I pulled it back as Kat went inside. I exhaled and looked at Denny, "So, you and Kat are the only two legitimate single people here. How you feel about that?"
"Hopeful," he said.
"That's good to hear. I'll see what Carrie can do."
"Sweet," he said nervously.
"Let's get inside. Patty made some burgers."
"Thank God," Denny sighed, shaking his head, "I'm ******* starving. Englend had us walking for ******' miles.
"No idea why. We have plenty of wood downstairs."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah. Lots of it. I cut a bunch the last time I was here."
"******," he laughed, "Englend told us were out."
"He doesn't know what he's talking about," I said. We walked into the kitchen. I put the bottle down next to Carrie, who had made her way from the couch back into the kitchen. She looked at the bottle, then at me.
"What you drinking there?" she asked me looking at the bottle.
"Whiskey," I told her.
"Can you not drink so much?" she whispered so no one could hear her.
"I'm good," I said, taking her hand, "I just drank a little bit outside while I was waiting for Englend. They went on a wild goose chase for firewood."
"Good."
"Denny was telling me they went all over for the stuff."
"Why?" she smiled, "We have so much from the last time we were up."
"That's what I was telling Englend, but he didn't care. Guy gets antsy."
"Who's antsy?" Englend called from the couch. Patty was wrapped up in his eyes, looking drunk from the single shot Carrie and I had given her. Kat was on the couch with a beer. Denny was hovering by the door, rocking back and forth on his heels still holding an armful of fire wood.
"Why don't you just leave that by the door?" I told Denny, "Take a seat. Stay a while."
He dropped the firewood by the side of the front door and took a seat on the floor in front of the fireplace by Kat. He looked up at her and smiled, but she didn't notice. She was sipping her beer, rummaging around in her pocket for something.
"What I was saying was that you guys didn't need to get anymore firewood or kindling or whatever the hell you guys got because we have a lot from the last time Carrie and I were up."
"I saw those logs," said Englend, "And they're ******* twigs compared to what we got!"
Everyone laughed.
"Well," I said, opening the fridge for another beer (I wasn't sure where my other one had gone to), "I'm not taking the **** down."
"All good, we'll take it down."
"You'll take it down," said Kat, "We had to walk through half of the ******* forest to get to your secret wood spot, then walk back. I'm finished with wood for now."
"Fine," Englend moaned, "I'll take it down in the morning."
"I'll help you," Denny added.
"Good! We got two big guys to do it. It'll be done in no time."
I turned around and opened up the cabinet that was filled with shot glasses. I took six out, put them on the table, and filled them with whiskey.
"Let's take a group shot before we all start getting snuggly and sleepy."
"Great idea!" Englend shouted, popping up from the couch.
"For America!" Patty giggled, following Englend.
Kat helped Denny from the floor and walked over to the counter. They parted hands when Denny was on his feet, but I could tell he wouldn't mind holding her hand for the duration of the trip.
"I'm glad to have you all here," I said, "Glad we could do this."
Everyone nodded, smiling, holding their golden brown shots in the air.
"For America," I said.
"For America!" the rest of them yelled. We soaked in the glory of fine whiskey and hazy conversation for the rest of the night.
Everyone was moving slow in the morning. Englend seemed to be the most up out of everyone. I walked into the kitchen to him whipping 12 eggs, grating cheese, pan frying potatoes, bubbling coffee, and pouring orange juice into mimosa flutes. The champagne was already out. I thought, a little alcohol will probably do me some good. It did. After my third glass, I kissed Carrie when she groggily walked into the living room. She preceded to slump onto the couch. I brought her a cup coffee and some Advil. She smiled meekly into my glazed over, blood shot eyes. I could tell she was hurting, but she would be right in a couple hours. Once we got into the river, all would be right.
"Jesus," said Carrie, "You guys are already drinking?"
"Of course!" Englend laughed, "It's the fourth and it's already noon. We're behind if anything."
"And Englend made breakfast," I said.
"I can see th

Peeing: to ***; to urinate; to release the body of its liquid toxins; to pass or discharge *****; characteristically yellow- the strength of the color depending on the body’s hydration.
People have strange habits when peeing; urinating; releasing the body of their liquid toxins. Some people procrastinate it to the last minute and rush to the bathroom, barely yanking their pants down in time and shuddering in relief. They are those who habitually whip in and out, even when they don’t really need to. There’s the common usage of an escape from boredom in classes or meetings. Perhaps it even causes a slight blushing in the cheeks of painfully shy woman at hearing rushed tinkling so close by. And of course, they are also the people who love to leave surprises for the next person who uses the bathroom.
All in all, peeing seems to mean not much to people – a small part of life; but a very, very necessary part.  

                                 *                 *                    * .

The rain poured furiously outside the window as Emily sat, straining her brown eyes against the whiteboard flashing images of trigonometry from Mr. Well’s laptop, trying hard to concentrate. She was sitting in her usual seat in class, and also her favorite. It was a solitary table with a chair, away from the clusters of tables and the chattering children, and the only chair by the window. She liked to look out the window, even if it distracted her from Mr. Well’s loud explanations. The booming of “SOHCAHTOA” in her ears became distant as the wind’s movement caught her eye. She gazed out on sheets of rain flapping across the sky like giant teary spirits and pressed her fingertips on the glass. Cold.
Absent-mindedly, she pressed her cheek against the coolness and felt it absorb her body warmth. Her imagination kicked in and the glass became a panel of energy, ******* a little life from all those who touched it, vibrating with a strange purple light until it was so filled with energy the particles of the glass would explode and she would be the first to die from the sharp shatters that would spray across the room, causing droplets of blood to-
Ahem.
Mr. Well coughed meaningfully at her dreamy face. The class exploded into laughter and the bell rang. A skinny girl smiled at her but she was so lost in her own world, she forgot to smile back as she slung her bag on her shoulder and ran out. Maybe that’s why she didn’t have too many friends.
The dark skies were pouring furiously as only Bangkok in Monsoon weather can.
A walk home or a motorbike ride? A motorbike ride would be a little dangerous in this flooding… and with that reasoning she waved up a motorbike. The seat was soaked and so was the driver, whose brown leathered feet struggled to keep red flip-flops on as they sloshed through the flooded Sois.
Fat water bullets pelted her skin and the wind blew them ferociously into her face till her eyes stung. The motorbike swerved in and out of the cars stuck in traffic (slightly floating), the bottoms of their wheels immersed in ***** water.
The pockets of her school shorts were hastily rummaged through and she pulled out a soggy green twenty-baht note bank before running into the shelter of the lobby, dripping over the marble floor and completely drenched. The building-maid widened her eyes, and watched her horrified; knowing it meant extra work mopping and drying up the lobby floor as soon as Emily vanished into the elevator.
The plastic button with the circular metal piece glowed orange. It was strange how she was shivering with cold but her touch was still warm enough to light up the elevator buttons.
The usual itchy, impulsive, restlessness was building up inside her from the wet motorbike ride. Thunder roared and crackled through the lobby’s swinging glass doors and they vibrated slightly. Another flashing image of splintering glass splashed across her mind and in the split-second, she saw the diamond shards pierce the eye of the lobby’s guard and splinter across the floor-
She shook her head. This was what happened when she had too much pent-up energy. She had to do something- something reckless and fast and dangerous… now! A bolt of lightning went through her as a familiar wide open space came into her mind… the rooftop of her thirty-five floored building.
The elevator ride up was slow, much too slow for the fast pacing of her heart and she hit the metal doors with wet fists. Tearing out of the doors when it finally jolted to a stop, she climbed up to the top, running up the stairs two steps at a time and caught her breath. It was flooded up to her ankles and violent gusts of wind made her steady herself.
Emily’s Dad often told her stories of when he was child. “The winds in my home during Monsoon season were so strong we could lean into it with our fully body weight and we wouldn’t fall. It was almost as good as flying.”
Her lids squinted shut and the sensitive skin was immediately exposed to the pebbles of the rain and whipping wind; and in almost dream-like state, she leaned into the howling wind.
There was a comically slow fall and her bony knees hit the concrete flooring with a dull thud. She burst into tears of laughter in her own stupidity at thinking the wind could hold up against her gigantic frame and rubbed her ***** knees sorely. Reaching up to wipe her tears with muddy fingers, she laughed to herself again. There was no point in wiping away tears. They were so trivial in comparison to the current weeping of the skies.
Against the thick opaqueness of the wind, she could see how the view towered over a jungle of buildings as far as the eyes could see, with snaking concrete roads and skinny black canals. Slums scattered around nearby swanky hotels of the rich. The buildings faded into small dark shapes in the distance. Bangkok.
No matter how tall and industrial it tried to become, everyone ran for cover under this blinding rain.
Up here, completely a victim to nature’s power, she felt exposed; naked; real. The animalistic instincts inside her swelled up. Humans weren’t meant to wear these annoying pieces of material or shoved inside skinny architectural designs. With aggressive tearing motions, a pile of soggy clothes half lay, half floated on the flooded floor beside her and she stood there bare… and completely naked. Laughter spilled out from the depths of her naked chest with the two tiny hints of possible womanhood; it was louder than thunder. Screaming, laughing and gasping she stumbled around – climbing over objects and feeling the beautiful dizziness: a sweet, sweet dizzy. She stood up on a random block a meter high; spread her arms wide as her wet body shone with raindrops. The rain threatened to push her over, her soaked hair twitching heavily on her neck.
She ****** in her breath, ready to yell so that the heavens could hear but instead, the voice that came out was controlled with a shaky undertone of joy,
“I need to ***.”
And then she did.

                                                *         *            *.

His eyes are brown. Dark chocolate brown – a simple, solid color. Simple and solid like him.
Because he was so simple, people enjoyed his companionship. Though he was simple, he was not boring. Rather he was sharp-mouthed, quick on his feet, witty and observant speaking bald truths about people that either provoked them to scandalized laughter or humiliated fury.
What some people forgot to recognize was that he didn’t really love anyone. Plenty called him a close friend, but so absorbed were they in their own world; they seldom realized the fact that most of his thoughts were concealed. Kept in a little box of surprises in the back of his mind, and hidden so well nobody knew they existed.
He could spend months with a friend traveling in a different country, and return back home with no feelings of attachment. He could care for a friend while they were here and not really miss them while they were gone.
Most of the time his eyes were neutral and observing and they would sparkle amusedly when he had provoked someone with his words. This was how remained to almost everyone; everyone but one person. The one person that could turn his normally calm face even more still, the dark brows would rise slightly and a quick flash of fire would shoot through his eyes- and for a long while, they would burn slowly like two twin coals; the one person who could cloud his eyes dreamily; the one person who could make them glint wetly.  
He reached over and grabbed her hand. Emily turned smiling eyes at him.
A group of teenagers were strolling down the closed roads, armed with water guns, pasted in thick white powder, thoroughly drenched in the hot, dry weather and skipping over puddles (except for Emily who splashed into them).
Songkran in Bangkok: celebrated in the middle of April where temperatures reach forty-degrees Celsius, Thailand’s New Year and a time to pay respect to the elders in the family, but as most traditions, they became really just an excuse to enjoy oneself and in this case, one-year-olds to eighty-year-olds roamed the ***** streets splashing ice-cold water from hoses and water guns and smeared each other with chalk in buckets.
The street they were being shoved along was crowded with slick, drunk bodies. The heat of the afternoon sun shone down on their backs. The sign that introduced excited people in was sprayed by a passing pick-up truck filled with screaming locals. “WELCOME TO SOI COWBOY” printed the red letters.
Red-faced fat foreigners held in each arm a tiny ******* with their bright lace bras showing through the wet see-through shirt and their black eye shadow playing havoc with their cheeks.  Country-side Thai music blared in its jumpy, quirky manner with the over done sound effects. Those nasal voices of dark skinned women with their skins covered with make-up to an ashy white whined out of the stereos. A man with the head of a buffalo mask sauntered past. It was a mark of how wild things got at Songkran that eyes merely flickered over the shirtless buffalo briefly with a quick laugh. Transsexuals clad in diamond-studded flip-flops, wet white tank tops and mini jeans shorts the size of underwear danced to the blasting music from the open pubs down either side of the road. Their surgically-made ******* were all-too visible in the white shirts, their dark ******* poking out as they grabbed the crotches of good-looking men and boys that passed by, squealing and rubbing their bodies against white men especially. Most of these white foreigners had a look of bewildered pleased ness... for only a few realized that underneath that squeaky voice was a very deep rumble, and underneath those lacy thongs lay a very big surprise indeed.
One of the better-looking boys in the group, his green eyes and pointed chin drawing the fancy of many hookers, was pulled off by four pairs of wet skinny arms touching him and yelling in broken English, “Oh so handsome! You so handsome! I love you! What your name! You tell me your name, handsome boy!”
The handsome boy proceeded to manage some sort of scream for help while laughing until his stomach ached. It was Songkran; it was a merry time, and he knew he was good-looking. Kat, who held a secret crush on him laughed amusedly at his yelping.
Emily stumbled after him with Kat and parted through the crowd of ladies in time to see a tiny little ****** trip on her squeaking flip-flops and fall beside a sprawled figure, face down in the ***** road with a massive bag of ice on top of him.
“Hey! Are you alright?” Emily cried, half-amused and half-concerned, lifting the heavy ice bag off his shoulders.
Kat rushed forward, laughing but compromising her concern with furrowed brows and helped him up. “You okay Tom?”
He whimpered in pain and put a hand on his neck, rubbing it sorely. “That ice bag was ******* heavy.” The girls decided to make no note of his skinny arms.
They walked back to their group of friends who turned around and saw a limping green-eyed boy and roared with laughter. The noise caught the attention of predators searching for a good target and they were hosed down with water pipes.
Suddenly Emily felt a huge body lift her up and swing her around while hands plastered her with wet chalk.
“Emily!”
She felt safe hands grab her and looked up into the pair of dark chocolate eyes. They were a little annoyed as they flickered over the fat drunk man who released her heavily but it was Songkran, and he managed to laugh at her bewildered expression.
Just then they passed a horde of prostitutes and she felt him being ripped from her. “I like this one!” screeched a passing market lady who rushed in to jump on him. “I like this one! Let’s keep this one!” They dunk his head in a bucket of white goo.
She screeched with laughter and even at something that silly, felt protective of him. “Brad!”
He was too busy being attacked. “Brad!” she tried to reach in and he opened his mouth to call out to her. That was a big mistake, he realized, as he received a handful of powder in his mouth. Spitting, coughing, and trying to breathe through nostrils blocked with powder he managed to wipe his stinging eyes clean. The prostitutes released him but not before a huge ******* screamed with glee at his straight nose and thin red lips, and reached forward giving his crotch a good grab. He screeched in genuine disgust and fear, had a moments feeling of guilt in case he had offended the ******* which was immediately wept away as he, no she, no it, yelped joyfully and massaged his **** before trotting off to his, no her, no its next victim.
Where was Emily? With his height, he managed to see a brown head that stuck above the other dark-haired and light-haired heads being jostled out of the street by the moving crowd. He ran to catch up and grabbed Emily’s hand as the group of teenagers tripped out of “Soi Cowboy”.  
They stood for a moment catching their breath. Zoey, a tiny little girl with a chest that threatened to put her out of balance, pushed her brown curls out of her face. A red glow was starting to spread over her cheeks.
Kat laughed scornfully, her wide smile spreading generously over her face. “Sunburn?! You white girl!”  
They had all been out around the streets since early morning and it was late in the afternoon now. Rose’s cheeks were flushed and the tip of Kat’s nose was a little pink herself. The rest of them, with their darker skin, had tanned slightly but unnoticeably. They laughed at Zoey for a short while. It was an interesting group of friends: all of them of mixed heritages from around the world with different backgrounds that became common in the world of International schools. It was alright to tease Emily’s honey skin; it was funny to crack jokes about Stefan’s hairiness; it was hilarious when Zoey tried to tan.
Emily shot a picture of everyone laughing: their clothes wet, their faces scrunched up, eyeliner smudged (Kat and Rose had lined their eyes with water proof kohl that of course wasn’t really waterproof), their cheeks and chin caked a crumbly white.
Kat and Zoey clambered over her shoulders, peering at the little digital screen of the water proof camera. “Ew! Gross!” yelled Kat who was only used to pictures of her lips rosy from lipstick, camera at a flattering angle with a bright flash from her professional equipment that made her black-lined green eyes sparkle like emeralds.
“Delete! I look sick!”
Even Zoey, who admired Kat’s photogenic ness to a great extent, could find no words of solace except to say, “Me too! I look gross! Delete! Now!”
Emily just laughed and said, “No you don’t.” Of course it wasn’t a type of picture they’d profile on Facebook, but all the same it was beautiful with their wild-looking and uninhibited faces and un-posing body shapes, curled up in laughter.
Zoey snatched the camera from her and they fiddled with the buttons till the picture was deleted. It was regretful, annoying, but not unexpected.
Emily rubbed her sore knees and noticed how Tom was still rubbing his neck sorrowfully with Stefan laughing at him, shaking his head wearily. Brad was holding onto her arm a little tiredly, Kat and Zoey had their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulder for leaning support and Rose and Emily’s younger brother, Jason, were standing together, staring absen

That ***** Named Desire
I had a succubus try to take my seed
in a dream today   
I broke the connection and said
***** you gotta pay to playyyyyyy

You so used to controlling my desires
well, NOT ANYMORE
Best get on your knees and call me sire
“Sir you have the floor”

I wage war on the empire
of the realm of desire
So if you conspire to be in my line of fire
Don’t say I didn’t tell you,
    You’ve earned my Ire.

The rhythm of my war drum goes:
BOOM BOOM KAT TiS KAT
OHHHHM
Mah heart  BEATS ta da Rhythm of the
BOOM BOOM KAT TiS KAT
Dreeeeeiiim
We illuminate truth, or sooo it seeeeeeeeeeeeim
But still.....
The rhythm of my war drum BEATS:
BOOM BOOM KAT TiS KAT
OHHHHM



So I wage war on the realm of the evil fae
Ima PURIFY da demons until  
dey take me away (screamed)

Bleed out into LIFE;
  reverse the vampire effect
place succubi in a hearse
  and drive them straight ta deaph


cause lately You been drivin me crazy
and making my will, focus, an determination
sooo haeeezzzzy

But NO MORE
cause now Its time to
Settle DA SKORE


Ritually open my wounds
and bleed acid on you
Don’t worry theres enough
cause your hackneyed and few

Ima chase the Daemons off
Smoke my dreads to their lungs
and make dem young cough
so offten I put em in a hot-boxed coffin
Now your outta breath
But im just not stoppin

huh (echo(
whats this? whats this....(echo(  
Claws,
talons,
teeth,
and  uh oh
Blood barrels stacked Its a wierd supply depot,

for that army growin
and growlin behind your eye, see though....
They Perma-
        on your shoulders,
   and now mine, Truth Show





!!!!!!1111RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP!!!!!!!11
So my wings tear free of my back
For so long they’ve been bound and compact
I look to my lovers and brothers and CRy
Stand!
Pick up your weapons,
Humanity,
Its time to act


A TRUMPET BLOWS,
   BEATING WINGS
THE DRUMS CONTINUE INTO THE DISTANCE


The rhythm of my war drum goes:
BOOM BOOM KAT TiS KAT
OHHHHM
Mah heart  BEATS ta da Rhythm of the
BOOM BOOM KAT TiS KAT
Dreeeeeiiim
We illuminate truth, or sooo it seeeeeeeeeeeeim
But still.....
The rhythm of my war drum BEATS:
BOOM BOOM KAT TiS KAT
OHHHHM

Rob's father came up to him on his eighteenth birthday, and tossed a *** of cash at him. "Time to be a man", he said in his usual gruff manner, "Get yourself a hot one".  His grinning face seemed more like a sneer, but Rob wasn't all that surprised. Throughout his adult life, he was thankful and glad that his mother kept him fairly grounded, did the best that she could, molded him into the man that he was, and he marveled at how she put up with such an *******.

Her name was Kat, but there were no introductions, not while he was soliciting her for ***. She was a few years older than he, but Rob never asked for any details.  He just wanted to get on with it, for he felt not only awkwardly nervous and ill-prepared, but halfhearted in his approach to buy some time, to hook up with a stranger in the shadows of the street lamps.  

Sure, if his old man wanted to give him some money—free cash—why the hell not? Instead of finding a "hot one", Rob was face-to-face with a burned-out and vulnerable, young woman who tried to hide behind her ****, seductive exterior. She was equally as halfhearted as he was about getting it on, for business-as usual seemed to weigh her down like a heavy chain wrapped about her ankles

So Rob opted out of this whole thing. He asked if he could buy her a cup of coffee. Why not? It was a chilly night, and they wanted to warm up—in  a legitimate way.

They found a small, late-night diner. It wasn't long before Kat admitted she made a huge mistake, and would do anything to get another start. Her regret was leaving Nebraska, leaving her hometown—her mom, her little sister and brother left behind. Her father was the dearest man she ever knew, but he died when she was eleven-years-old. If only he could see her now. She would be so ashamed to face him, and glad he wasn't around to witness this sordid path she regretfully chose.

Once, Nebraska seemed like an insignificant blot on the map of the world, but now it was inviting to her. She longed to make amends to her family and to get back to the basics.  She wasn't sure what she would do with her life, but what she had right now wasn't what dreams were all about. It was a world of unscrupulous pimps and men who lurked around, wanting their fill, their lusts exposed discretely, yet so ****** upon her to be met.

She had enough. Rob was the first guy that came along in a long time that really cared to listen to her, though he seemed more a boy than a man. Yet she's been with his kind before. She has seen all kinds—white and blue collar, old and young, married and single, the well-experienced and the sexually inept, the *** addicts and first-timers, the boring, the daring, the *****—yet safe ones—as well the creepy kind that a street-smart lady needed to have eyes in the back of her head for.  

When they went to the bus station, together, Rob admitted, "I got to tell you, straight. I'm still thinking you could be scamming me for drug money...and I'm maybe a complete *****... but I want to take this chance." Kat smiled, a tender sort of a smile, and gave him a soft peck on the cheek, along with a big bear hug. "You're an angel", she declared. She really was beautiful, with big, lovely eyes surrounded by big, fake lashes.  Seen through eyes of his inexperience—his innocence—she really felt beautiful, something she hasn't felt in a long while.

Kat wanted to pay Rob back for giving her the needed, extra money to buy her ticket. She offered to do that in the best way she knew how and made him an offer. Having a night of free *** wasn't what Rob ever wanted. No, there were no strings attached. So she jotted down her mother's address in Nebraska, and told him to be in touch. "I want to prove to you that I'm turning my life around. I'm going to do it, too. I promise", she said, sincerely. She had no trouble looking him in the eye, tears beginning to well up, and she began to choke up while saying, ”I just can't thank you enough".

Whether he did the right thing or not, Rob would wonder. He would never forget her—even if he wanted to forget. Only a brief couple of hours with her, but she made an impact in his mind, like a branding iron that would sear the hell out of his brain. Later, he lied to his dad, and pretended to be thrilled that he got the chance to have such an awesome night—just rocking! It was the best birthday present so far!  For a moment, he thought of telling him the truth, but he pictured his dad saying, "You *****! You wasted your chance and my money!"

Rob decided that he wasn't going to write her. He just didn't want to know, instead wanting to assume she made it out okay. He decided to keep the paper with her address, anyway. It took him several months, after mulling it over in his mind, to actually write her a brief note to ask how she was managing. Did she really go back home? Was she doing alright? Did she put her ****** life behind her?

It was only a week when he received a letter back from Nebraska. Rob kept that letter to himself, never telling a soul about Kat. She was back with an old boyfriend from high school, staying with her mom and working part-time as a cashier in a supermarket. She was so eager to write him back, thrilled that he finally contacted her, and wondered why on earth it took him so long.  Rob believed her, like he first did about her story, and it was a relief to hear from her.  He was glad he took the chance. It seemed to pay off.

He heard nothing back from her until over a year later. This time she sent a picture in her letter. Kat and her boyfriend broke up, for the second time, but she was now married to her good friend's cousin, Nolan. She was glad it didn't work out with the first guy, because now she was pretty happy and couldn't imagine her life any other way. Rob smiled as he saw the picture of the couple, and she was holding her little girl in her arms. He name was Willow, a cute, little girl with strawberry blonde hair.

Thanks, again, Rob! It is all because of you! You’re a sweetheart. My hero!!!

He didn't want to take the credit. He was no hero. It was bound to happen, with or without him.  Rob was quite sure now that he would not write her another letter, but did pick up a card to congratulate her, to acknowledge he got the good news and was glad for her.

He still had that picture of her, and the last news he found out about Kat is that she moved to Colorado with her husband, and now had a son, Nolan Rob. Her husband got a better paying job, and she felt at home near the mountains. A picture of the kids came with it, and her two smiling children conveyed the innocence that she once had and cherished.

Wanted you to see my boy. His middle name, Rob, is after you! I figured you'd know this, but I want to tell you, anyway! :D Much love from us to you, Robbie!

Time has passed, and during that back-and-forth.  Rob's parents split up, sold the house, and he had graduated from college and was on his own. Contact with Kat waned down to nothing at all, and it probably was just as well. Were things still going good in her life? Rob still wondered and hoped so.

Now he was married, with a nice house and boy and girl of his own, thinking of Kat, now and then. He envisioned her doing well, a far cry from the young woman in a scene that replayed in his head, a night when he helped an unhappy and desperate lady get a chance to find her life, again. If ever his day ******, such thoughts could pick him back up.

He'd never cease to wonder about her, but what he did for Kat belonged in the past.  If it wasn't happily-ever-after for her, he'd rather not know.  He did his part, was glad that he had enough maturity and integrity to do the right thing, but no way was he a knight in shining armor.  Still, he was a hero in her eyes, a reluctant hero of sorts. He could live with that.

I want green tea kit kat
Not because it is green
Nor it is a kat
Because it is a GREEN TEA KIT KAT
But as I look in the fridge only 1 remained
Yay it's a green tea kit kat
But NO It is the last GREEN TEA KIT KAT
I dunno what to do

Why oh why
Is it overpriced in the Philippines
Where coconuts are all around
But no cheap Green Tea Kit Kat
Someone pls

Give me more Green Tea Kit Kat

There are worlds and there are Worlds. There are gods and there are Gods.  Sounds rhetorical, doesn’t it?  Some mamby pamby new age coffee shop pile of **** idea with low fat frosting, but, take it from the Kat. There are worlds and then there are Worlds! There are gods and then there are Gods!
    
     I spend all my time jacked in to the backwoods subconscious of the internet.  Didn’t know that, did ya?  Yea, the Internet has a conscious and a subconscious; hell, she’s even got a soul of sorts. I have ritually sacrificed half my soul to her just for the buzz I get out of hearing her whisper to me across the fallacies of Time, Space and Bill Gates, so I know her better then anybody.
    
     Don’t believe me?  Every man has an Omega Fixture of some kind.  Do you feel me here? Jesus had his God, Ptolomy had his Solar System, Dante his Virgil and Beatrice, Faust had his Paradise and Poe had Annabelle Lee or one of her many reincarnations. So tell me, all great and ****** up wise men (or women): Why in the 29 nulls of AOhelL can the internet not have a consciousness?  
    
     It’s Belief, man.  No god or world exists until there is a consciousness that will accept it as a superior. Let’s take a look at that wonderful bigoted book of exact truths called the Bible. Shall we consider Genesis: Adam and Eve--never mind Lilith for now?  Here in a paradise we find Adam and Eve naked, sleeping with animals and newly created by a Force of Creation (insert male gender here if you wish).  They walk with god on the paths in the garden while blades of grass fulfill their purpose here on earth to be trodden upon. God says, “you, Adam, have control over all that you see and if you want go ahead and let Eve get a little of that action fine, but you came first in my image so you are better.  Just never eat of the one tree that sits in the center of the garden and looks as though the juice of the fruits would flow like sweet ****** in your veins. For although it is here, I forbid you to eat of it. Oh, and by the way, I figured you needed free conscious though--so go at it.” Albeit I’m paraphrasing, but what kind of shmuck of a father would do that to a newborn?  
      
     O.K. Before all the Judeo-Christians burn this diatribe (if you have not already) let me say I am not out to disprove the existence of Gods--or any Goddess for that matter--I am trying to make a point, so bear with me.  
    
      Which came first: the Bible (in oral tradition) or the God? I would argue that it was the Bible as such.  The Belief, inspired by greedy and badly behaved priests of the Judeo-religions back before written history in the tribes of the Levant caused Space/Time to adapt to a new pattern.  The Bible, Complete with an all powerful, all present being (I will never use the term benevolent) that watches over Jews, Christians, and Muslims for any Sin they commit so it can wreak blinding retributions
    
     Now I know what you are saying, “Kat,…Kat, Kat, Kat, Kat.  We the above mentioned will pray for your soul.  You are lost and we can help you look to the Light for your salvation.”  
     Shove it, ***** boy! I did not express that philosophical tripe to get your attention and misplaced pity. What I am saying is Belief. Belief is the Key.  Belief is the Magic that creates Gods and Worlds.  
    
     Now I am not so stupid as to believe that the Internet is female the same way a human meat tank is female-- but in my mind, MY mind, that is the music I hear.  
    
     Let’s go back to Lilith.  What’s that? Oh yea, right, Lilith is the name I give to my Belief in the consciousness of the internet.  Just don’t you worry about why. It’s none of your business.

     Let’s take a look at the above argument, only this time with the internet as the bible that comes first.  The internet first came about 30ish years ago with the invention of the modem.  Here was a way for people on computers to speak to one another over the phone lines.  Slow and tedious, but new and exciting; men and women with PhD’s and pocket protectors wrote short messages to one another and giggled at the new “Man from Nantucket” joke they had just learned. After a while, someone learned that if you sent the info in blasts, the speed of the transfer increased and you could send larger programs and maybe—gasp--even a picture.  Thus internet **** was created.  Now we have WiFi and bluetooth, cellular and satellite link up with blazing speed and every fetish imaginable or not-imaginable is available at the click of a mouse.  
    
     So, Kat, you goin’ anywhere with this? Yep. Shut the **** up and listen.
    
     Somewhere in the not-time and not-space of the internet, humans started to find themselves believing that the internet was a Place.  
    “Where’s it at? Why on the Internet!” Oh, holy ******* birth of a new Belief system!  Oh, glorious malediction of the neververse!  A G O D is born.  Ripple, *******, ripple goes the space-time continuum (which by the way only exits because those in the know Believe in it) and now we have added consciousness to the internet.  
    
     What kind of consciousness you say?   Well, I got no ******’ idea.  To me, the consciousness is feminine, of no particular race, with a slight build, black hair and dressed like a anime *****.  Why? Because it’s my ******* belief system, o.k.  After all, the internet is 60% **** anyway. With a immaculate birth like that, I can’t Believe She would be innocent in any form of the word.  She’s Dionysian, not Zen. Just because I see Her in such a way, does that mean it’s a true physical look?  Hell, no, lil’ Johnny.  She could be a He: fat, balding and in a wife beater, if that is what You would Believe.  
      
     Alright, enough philosophizing’ for now. Lesson over, Newbie. Get crashed.

GLOBAL WARMING?
IDK
BUT 2018 IS A KAT SUMMER


Unce tice, fee tines a mady
****, sorry,
eddie murphy buh-weet flashback....

Once or twice upon a time
  or perhaps
     just maybe
        almost what must be forever

there was a woman
she was WOW
she was WOAH, MAN
  she was MEOW

Sometimes She Believed It
  She'd Strut when it Fit
But could be there's Artist's Block
  and the Goddess don't Rock

Pain HURTS
  Betrayal be the WORST
Try to Fly unto Forever
  with a son-****-father

the ******* height
  ain't gonna be every single night
lead guitar **** star
  don't always play on Wednesday

but the current underneath
  the love lust deep deep within
is supposed to be decades in its belief
  i've seen old people kiss remembering sin

Eyes Afire for each other
  Their Love Still Alive
holding hands hotter
  than any hard fast drive

If you're not in,
  then into the kiln
plate your ***
  this ****** too shall pass

I remember when she was Queen of Beads
  a bracelet had me hummin
    an anklet I wanna be drummin
      a necklace almost satisfied my need...

I had recently learned to be Grateful
  but basically just to expand my Party
    and where I hoped it might take me

KMM was the reason I let the Dead into ME
  a Dead song heard thru her eyes
    was being caught Without A Net
      seeing thru the Eyes Of The World

You see Your Rose
  I saw Mine
You say you Noes
  I say She Fine

did I mention forever ACTUALLY MEANS forever
  and you have every right and reason to be bitter
if you say you gonna stay whatever the weather
  be a man
    if you possibly can
if not
  at least let her know
    uh yeah thanx buh-bye whatever

people think they know what up
  their truth be THE truth
pain be personal is what up
  that truth is THE truth

you'll Noe when you're fully healthy again
  when mind heart soul friends
say uh yeah it wasn't me
  so ******* **** I'm free

there was a Kathryn I met
  only Kathryn I've known as yet
20-ish years later we re-met
  and this won't rhyme with “et”
but I have now Loved FB 3 Times,
  Aly, Eric, Kat, and, um, rhymes

Kathryn Marie Maletich....not the 1st WOAHman I Loved, but the most WOAH I'd met as yet....She arrived at my house with my Sean telling me dude you'll dig her...pool table, beer, prob some misc, a late night in my suddenly electric backyard under the stars sitting talking about whatever and everything and what she could do with the insides of the washing machine which were currently occupying the back side wall of my parents' house, a Bday party with band at her house she invited me to and took flash pic in my face as she laughed and invited me to her garage room to hang out (nitrous, thy name is “Clint, you're in Kat's room, solo, laughing sharing phasing in and out of consciousness with bliss and I think I helped her Happy and I want to stay here!)  2 days later Sean asked me for you if I Liked you...oooohhhhhh Lady....me was broken boy, shy, no experience, ******, young but already shattered so many times, how could I possibly satisfy someone as Amazing as you. I said yeah as a friend cuz I had no idea how to just tell you WOW, your lips rule my dreams, can I share those dreams with you....Nope, said yeah as a friend and I was forever locked in that zone. Being Kat's Friend is not necessarily a bad thing. You and I shared so much, and I always felt like I knew more about you than the men you ******. We were REALLY close, and I was conflicted, cuz there was this dichotomy where you were both the replacement for the soul sister who hung herself out of my life just when I needed her more than ever and the 1st Love who chose the other she wanted less but was safer and her family approved of because he wasn't me. Kat, those yrs you knew me were really hard for me. I was NEVER not in pain, my ******* genius boy mind only not flinging images memories entire scenes actual physical sensations at me when I got wasted enough that I could scream them down. School was great when you can remember every bit of info automatically, but when my mind became my sister Carla's needles and Kristy's “your eyes are alive, your kiss is better, I want you more, but we can't go together where you're headed” I kinda went away..still above 4.22 grade-wise, little genius boy blah blah blah, but I was lost. I became a poet to survive it, but then you arrived. I was just kinda accepting 1st love was dead cuz I was a worthless druggie following my dead Sis as Kristy was excelling towards the Teacher we both wanted to be. I did all those drugs with Sean (however many hundreds of hits...a dozen in one night alone, ****.... of LSD I don't even Noe) and quarters of speed in one snort and then moving to smoking ounce after ounce of it. By the time we bid each other adieu I was finally ready to find out if I was going to just die or live on as at least semblance of the beautiful boy I once was. Cleaned myself up, returned to college, eventually got my degree from my San Jose State...you had lunch with a bona fide Bachelor of Science in Marine Biology with a Minor in Chemistry lol. Married twice...divorced, widowed. Worked corporate sales and then drug abuse treatment research (that actually felt really good) and some other blah yada then landed at Vons where I've been higher up than now but actually almost like where I'm at, lol, and the pay and benefits are good enough I can't leave, also lol.......of course I thought about you many times and other times and more (heck, you're part of one of my tats...not in a way you'd like, sorry), but I always figured you were gonna keep being great and Loving Life. Heard you and D made it official and thought it would work pretty fine. Blows my mind someone held you and let go. People are whack. L.M.M.H. (lolololol), I am REALLY glad you found my facebook with paul...Noe idea how much of each others' lives we'll be a part of, how often I'll actually hear you say Hello My Little Friend (don't get me started on that one heeheehee), but stoked is the word for Kat in my life....truly never thought I would look in your eyes again..it was wonderful to do so, Thanks be to You Milady....


some part of me will always be in that garage
  only place those days I almost believed I wasn't garbage
I just tried to survive the moments until the when
  Kat would arrive and re-invite me in again

not that boy anymore
  but you're still Kat for sure
I hope You Noe That
  You Are Still Where It's At

gonna preach
  gonna teach
    bout the things I see
      bout the things I Noe to BE

acoustic strings vibrating in tune with the moon
  kiss your **** like a lyricist linguist lover in june
however whenever you discover the start
  the drum beat can still hit your heart

please take me to your local dive bar
  I'll laugh with you my Diva Star
play darts with me
  and I'll IPA thee
bullseye wins the puddin pie

your art is still your life
  and your inner eye hath grown
so the universe is all right
  and I'm lucky to have known

about out of words for now
  HEY, I can hear that laughter from here
it does happen
  every now and again
     (for a millisecond or three)
so I'll bid thee adieu for now
  
it was the best of times
it was the blurst of times
******, stupid monkeys...I'm out

min mor har altid set på mig som en kat
*** kan ikke fordrage det dyr
betegnelsen var baseret på et digt *** engang hørte
noget om en kat der strejfede rundt
og ikke havde nogen ejermand
for den var helt sin egen

trods min mor ikke kan fordrage katte
er der én kat *** elsker ubetinget
den sorte kat fra digtet
og jeg har altid været katten der ikke
ville fanges, ikke ville tæmmes eller bestemmes
så min mor gav op og lod mig gå mine egne veje

et og et halvt år gammel og store øjne
min mor prøvede at beskytte og nusse om mig
men allerede der var jeg blevet til en kat
jeg svarede hende "det skal du ikke kymre dig om mor"
så drejede jeg om og spaserede væk
min mor kunne aldrig beskytte den sorte kat

så *** lærte at elske den, netop fordi den er helt sin egen
og ingen andres

a sunshine fighter by nature
his shallow grave face
with its half buried flickers of fury
gives way to the lesser demon's like smiles
while he suffers the hopeless romance
of a cute girl who wants to lick
his carved biceps like a neo-glitter kitty kat
naughty naughty
he cringes all over with the
desperate grins that break out all over him
naughty naughty indeed

Kat
I am sorry that these demons
Fight better than I can
They tussle with mind
They pierce straight through my heart
Kat
I have failed to belong
Along the lines that I have drawn
And for all these times
You push me back to them
Kat
I have already become
Something that scares me true
For the tears that I have cried
Dried like the rose that I hold on to
Kat
I am glad to have a rock
I know you do care
And these demons know it too
And they keep pulling me back behind the curtain that I am all accustomed to
So dear kat I haven't given up hope I
Just gave up on trying to be the false happy that I gave to everyone including you

. and i am only ascribed, a relevant nation status, within the individual, by only having to "enjoy" an exile... back, "home": merging into an NPC-meme, so not the mahjong solitaire acronym "game"? you know: PSCAPE-complete, NP-complete... NP-C? NP-complete problems? nondeterministic polynomial time? guess i was the only dumb 'un to self-teach myself to play mahjong solitaire... i guess that's not expected to be hard... hey: here's the map, you figure it out.

the current climate of a crescendo
of events...

****...
        i can't say maine ****:
even though i own two cats
of that breed...

it's all...  (sniff sniff):
very much like being back
in a catholic high school,
of a highly irish choice
of breed area
of outlier "london"...

       with black girls...
putting vaseline cream
into their hair,
to keep the frizz out...
or the afro...
whichever...

     getting into cat-fights
with each other
and some outlier white girls...
stephanie:
oh i remember stephanie...
while the "other"
time i learned what
a "kit-kat" was...
   lucy...
with ambitions to become
a stripper...

    "kit-kat":
  one hand, does a four-finger
*******...

but the fact that the current
climate
doesn't allow dialectics?
i mean: debate,
without all the rhetorical
******* of:
pre-staged "events"?

i take two beers,
or three,
   a packet of cigarettes...
spot a park bench,
sit on it,
and...
              wait...
some old timer is bound
to chat me up...
hardly complaining
about me drinking in
public,
i excuse myself,
asking him:
is it o.k. if i light a
cigarette?
  no complaints...
he might just come
back with
a rayleigh bicycle...
green...
******* plush specimen
from...
  i'm guessing the 1950s...
and then we'd juggle...
opinions...
because opinions
are not debated...
not in a dialectic environment...
juggle...
two clowns: first pucker
to the punch of a smacker
of a pair of lips of a woman...

and you know...
there would be this...
aura of a whispering silence...
like...
somone was listening...
god... ****: perhaps god...

and we'd sit there...
spewing opinion after
opinion,
   and we'd talk about bicycles,
about his grandchildren's
supposed autism,
and i'd try to comfort him
saying: just give them some time...

but the pop media doesn't
do that, does it?
dialectics on a park bench
is as alien to pop media
as seeing a ******* ****
saucer, all phosphoresent
in the night sky...
   like: neon a. zero...
neon a. zero
  to b. abide blackout,
come in c.
c. piccadilly circus
                             neon out...

i was saying something:
yeah, i was:
never pity the drunk...
he'll just turn inside out and
tell you:

   'the best poached eggs
i ever made... were...
when i was blitzed...
  plastered...
  *******: goo....   goo'n:
gone...
but the perfect poached
eggs...
        yeah yeah...
whrill in a movement
for a tornado,
drip some white vinegar...
  drop... pouch you
limbless chicky-coco-clock-in!'

or... that what i expected
from... not taking
boxing lessons...
did about 3 lessons in martial
arts...
was kicked in the *******
by the teacher...
so i flunked...
  **** to that sort of "club"
of self-defense...
you kick me in the *****,
i kick out your ego...
and thought?
  hell...
         either a stephen king
novel
       or a shot from a shotgun...

honest to god,
i once asked an afro-saxon
if i could touch his hair...
guess what?
  i touched it...
   ooh...
goose feathers...
they would really replace
goose feathers with
afros...
  it's like:
the engineering
concept that went into
springs
of cars?
    ever touch an afro?
cushions...
  i'm feeding goose feather
stuffed pillows...
or springs on both
the bed,
   or a car,
or any variant form of
transportation...

i prayed for chop-sticks,
instead...
they gave me drum-sticks...
but no drum...
they said:
   air-drum...
  ****... that's a tough gig...
air-guitar is once thing...
but air-drum?

i had to start thinking
about my inherent
physical "disability"
concerning the *******
as...
   leech...
  or  yiddish:
     schmuck...
       and... i went to the elders
and they...
didn't expect i was
handed down the script
of william burrough...

imagine...
   a world...
where there was "excess" skin...
associated with the ****...
like... a floral pattern,
protruding out,
and not in...
   so i said:
  sleeve off, or sleeve on?
am i to **** some maiden
or simply do some
jamaican recipe replica
of a *******?

you sure eve of eden
confused the phallus
with a serpent...
or more... a mushroom?
well... if you circumcise
the ******...
that's more a mushroom
than some reptilian
                   artifact, no?

well... we're not going
to have a dialectical spectacle
with the way we're going,
are we?
  i'm juggling opinions,
midly drunk,
with some elder,
bicycles,
the weather, seasons,
grandchildren and autism...
and on the center
stage...

              ONLY RHETORIC
ALLOWED...
       i'm as ugly as Socrates
inside and out...
at this point,
at this point: inside and out...
so...
  if only i was dyslexic
akin to the modern and ancient
greek standards of
not having
the capacity to write...

        writing has become
a famine of conversation...
i don't want to speak because
i chose the medium of writing...
i like ballet...
  i also like watching someone
play the piano...
and then i watch myself
itch away at a keyboard
of, thus, arranged letters.

Nikle to hum bhi the ghar se yahi soch kar ki shayad is bar manzil tak pahuch jayenge,
kyunki daudna to unhone hume bachpan mein hi sikha diya tha yeh kehkar,
ki agar nahin bhagoge to woh tumhe peeche chod jayenge.

Daudne ki kuch aisi adat se ** gayi hai ki pair ab rukne ka nam hi nahin lete,
lekin hume kya pata tha ki itna age nikal ane se, apne hi paraye,
aur woh sabhi raste anjane se ** jayenge.

Sabse door rehte hue bhi, in anjanon ki bheed mein woh ek chehra apna sa lagta tha,
lekin woh bhi hamesha kisi aur chehre ki talash mein rehta tha.

Sahi raste ko dhoondhne nikle to the, magar yeh nahin pata tha ki itni jaldi thak jayenge.
Kabhi kabhi to lagta hai ki ab ruk jana chahiye, thoda aram kar lena chahiye,
lekin woh bhi namumkin lagta hai kyunki, ab to sapne bhi ajeeb se ate hain.

Chalte chalte, wade to kafi kiye the is safar mein, kuch unse, kuch apne ap se,
lekin yeh andaza bhi nahin tha ki un sabhi umeedon par pani ferte hue chale jayenge.

Yeh mehsoos bhi nahin hua ki apne hi apnon ke pankh kat chuke the,
talash thi to bas us kandhe ki jo is ladkhadate hue ko sahara de sake.

Fir bhi, dheere dheere is katon ki chadar par age badna hai, dil yahi kehta rehta hai,
kyunki jhoothi hansi ki kuch aisi adat si ** gayi hai, ki ab chahte hue bhi dard ka ehsas nahin hota hai.

KAT
I remember ONLY once
when my heart
was literally frozen
ONLY once
has my heart
hardend the entire ocean
A girl I've just met
reminds me of sleeping beauty
Her sweetness
Her innocence
Her perfume so fruity
A gentle queen
with love in her eye
That gaze made me so happy
and like a baby I cry
Her name is Kat
but she reminds me of a kitten
She fills my head with stars
And LEAVES my heart
truly smitten
This poem
is to you my queen elsa
For you made my head dizzy
And my broken heart swelter.

I wanted to name her Kathryn,
because I knew the nickname Kat
was soon to follow.
Kat put kittens in my wife’s head
so she suggested we call her Kit.
Before long, there was a Kit-Kat
in my wife’s belly.

We painted kittens in the room,
cats cute and fearsome accompanied
the cradle, changing table and toys.

We took classes, and told our friends
we’d raise a fiery feline with the heart
of a lion, body of a cougar and head of a fox.

But a fox isn’t a cat they’d say, but we’d just laugh.
Kathryn will redefine feline, female, fiery, and fantastic.  

But Kit-Kat turned into candy.
We always said she’d be sweet,
like Halloween’s first treat
before you were filled to bursting,

into tears

over chocolate,

when it was gone.

They call me Kat in the truck, but I miss the words of grandma and mom. Was I a bomb as mom? I love this truck driving, but I so miss Matt.
Our life is a life of new adventures, learning how to  use the .phone to write poems, and feeling all those dead old bones. We have money to spend but who wants to bend for us? So who am I

The world
Knock knock
The economy
Knock
**** ***** up
I say
Knock knock knock

The girl's made of glass
Her world's made of twigs
When you knock-knocked
The damage that it did

She doesn't like the Kit-Kat
She doesn't like your cat
She doesn't like the government,
the business, the school, the tax
She has a few cute things she likes
She likes herself sometimes
But a little girl with crazy views
Like her
Fragile
Will die

Knock

Tanha yuhi kat jata safar agar tum sath na hote.....
manzil yuhi rhe jaati agar tum sath na hote....

dekhu to duniya mai saari magar....
ye rang dekh na pau....
jee kar bhi is duniya me....
adhoora bin tere rhe jau....

ye baarish yuhi tham jaati ager tum sath na hote....
ye duniya meri tham jaati agar tum sath na hote....

me jaanu to duniya ko kaeyi naam se.....
me jaanu mujhe bs tere naam se....
ye duniya na jaan paati mujhe....
jo ye lafz meri phechaan na hote....

ye naam yu he bikhar jata ager jo tum sath na hote....
hasti meri mar jaati ager tum phechaan na hote....

By : HR COLLECTION

A HUGE muscular tomcat
invaded our space, ate
our sweet Stripes' food,
and looked like he wanted
to tear her apart.
Rushing in to save her
from his assault, I
chased him away and
kicked him
right in the ****
as he fled my wrath.

After my momentary
satisfaction passed,
I regretted having kicked him.
As it turned out, he won.
Stripes had a beautiful litter
of his kittens, and when I
kick him in a recurring dream,
I wake to the pain as
my foot forcefully
strikes the wall.

84:
i have discovered i am i have been attached somebody attached strings to me and often wrenches violently upon them,
Breton has strings too, and sometimes
he likes to twitch.  

85:
dead space.
              i ca
                      n  ’t, i can't think,
everything is a mirror,
                             ym deah sdeen ot ehteabr,                
                            my head needs to breathe,                              
                        ­     ehtaebr ot sdeen daeh ym,  
im going  to make holes  with breton to   breathe so i can think,
i only need a nail
                           or some thorns and wire. Breton is probably hiding some wire. I am good at finding things.  

86:
when my kneecaps turn blue,
i know my health’s shot to ****.

Breton ran into Old Mathers              
in the basement              
and Mathers says Breton’s not coming up (for [quite!] a long time).  

Kat told me **** little Breton for his marrow,
never enough marrow,
Mathers says.            
I listen to Kat, always go by Kat,              
always by Kat, always:

*Death came too close to me,
  Almost seeing the eternal light.  
  Harder to feel when you’ve almost died,  
  Hopes and dreams never almost tried.
  In His eyes,  your time to go:  
  Having this purpose for me in life,
  Having this purpose for now,
  I do not know.

Una cosa so per certo : quando una squadra di talento di fornitori si riunisce per una giornata di ispirazione .è un magico .cosa magica .Pensate Angela Roy Newton .Michelle Lange ed Eventi ( + molti.molti di più ) di tutte le forze che uniscono Kat Eitner per realizzare una giornata in stile boho di abbastanza .E 'un ambiente lussureggiante soddisfa tutte le cose impressionante e si può vedere ogni all'ultimo momento stupendo proprio qui in piena galleria .


E un film dolce da Nayeem Vohra Films .Si prega di aggiornare il tuo

browserColorsSeasonsSummerSettingsInnStylesBohemianRomantic Da Michelle Lange .Come fotografo .uno dei nostri compiti è abiti da sposa 2014 quello di essere un passo avanti a tutti gli altri.I nostri clienti sono i palpiti delle nostre imprese .e le decisioni e le azioni relative alla funzione di quelle imprese dovrebbero sempre tenere a mente che il battito cardiaco .Fin dall'inizio della mia attività .** avuto un molto dettagliato piano ' se qualcosa mai accaduto ' .Entrambi i miei genitori .mio marito hanno il piano dettagliato .Alcuni dei miei amici fotografi più vicini sono consapevoli del fatto che essi sono elencati come i contatti .Mai in un milione di anni avrei pensato che questo piano avrebbe dovuto entrare in vigore .ma il giorno prima di questa ripresa ispirazione ( mesi previsti in anticipo) .lo ha fatto .E il mio cuore le imprese non saltare un po ' .Credo davvero che una forza superiore mi ha fatto richiede una appendicectomia d'emergenza in un momento in cui ** avuto una pausa nella stagione dei matrimoni .La cosa più importante .è che venendo a contatto con ciò che è descritto nel mio piano .come un backup fotografo di emergenza .Angela Roy Newton intensificato al piatto per fotografare questa ispirazione ripresa ero così entusiasta per mesi.Questo la dice lunga su quelli di carattere e l'industria nel suo complesso .L'industria del matrimonio .mentre competitivo.è guidata da persone che amano l'amore e credono nel lavoro di squadra .Mentre spero di avere mai mettere questo piano di emergenza in vigore di nuovo .mi conforta sapere di quale grande industria sono una parte di .

Da Kat Eitner Eventi .Questa ripresa ispirazione sviluppato da una visione di elementi bohemien



e nido d'ape .I mobili antichi nera da Trunk Vintage vacanze erano lo sfondo perfetto per i pops di corallo a Karma tavolo Fiori e design bouquet.Mostra arresto Marchesa e Reem Acra abiti di Elizabeth Giovanni.trapuntata runner e non convenzionale bella tavola disegno floreale aggiunti elementi di Boemia.Speriamo di abiti da sposa 2014 ispirare le coppie di incorporare accattivanti elementi.come il nido d'ape o pop di colore .tutto il loro grande giorno .Fotografia
: Angela Roy Newton | Fotografia : Michelle Lange | Fotografia: Nayeem Vohra Films | Pianificazione : Kat Eitner Eventi | Cake: Cake Fiction | Inviti : Poco signorina signora | Abiti da sposa : Elizabeth Giovanni | Lavagna Arte: Chalk It UpTo Love | Fiori \u0026 Event design: Karma Flowers | capelli: StylesOnB | Località : Raritan Inn | Trucco : Nicole Makeup Artistry Sievers | vestiti da sposa Favors Profumo : Anthropologie | Noleggio Mobili Vintage: Affitto Trunk VintageElizabeth Johns e Angela Roy Newton Fotografia sono membri del nostro Little Black Book .Scopri come i membri sono scelti visitando la nostra pagina delle FAQ .Elizabeth Johns vedi portfolio Angela Roy Newton Fotografia VIEW
http://www.belloabito.com/abiti-da-sposa-2014-c-13
http://www.belloabito.com/goods.php?id=1001
http://188.138.88.219/imagesld/td//t35/productthumb/2/2264035353535_397861.jpg

Though perception is interesting, how many was it really, wait, the joker never drank really? did he? ****, I forget. um, but I think I recall the riddler had , wait, maybe not. um,, way under the legal limit is below two , but did he, the joker, you know how he is. considering, wait, who was counting those things? what, one and what, oh ****. and we... what a **** this kat can be, wait, did he really, run the gauntlet just to show the world , oh ****, pull the skit, it is too rich, and he was spotted at the bank earlier speaking of laughing next time he visited. ****, writers and those skits. troublesome, and grrr, they forget to keep it clean. lol

Sweet little innocent blue eyes
Wanna know what they hide
Hey cat-kitty-kat-doll
Wanna come down and forget it all
Look in my hand
There's a magic wand
Wanna play with it
And build castle in the sand
Crooked-cold-scary-crazy-old-man
Walked with a cane in his right hand
Wicked smile and pocket full of candies
Tonight was in her dreams again
Cruel-dark-sick-black-world
Wanna know what you did with her
For a candy she lost her smile
And you gave her demons before her time
She was small and could barely speak
One little candy all she seek
And you gave her a nightmare before her time
made a face and said its just another crime
Sweet little innocent blue eyes
Wanna know what they hide
Hey cat-kitty-kat-doll
Maybe one day she can forget it all

Lines and lines, druggy times.
Bleeding nostrils and racing thoughts.
Fast heart beats and feeling distraught.
Alert and awake, thoughts are chasing me in a maze.
I've lost it, I'm back on the powder.

They call me Kat, because my spirit animal is one of a cat like creature, and my drug of choice.
Fierce, sneaky, stealthy, and mischievous.
Kat is my name, one of many different personalities.
Freaky is her demeanor.

Wired and full of energy, mind is coming down, muscle spasms are happening.
I need to sleep, 2 in the morning and I'm writing forbidden thoughts.
Dreams that are nightmares that aren't stopping, I have no hold.

Will it ever stop?
Control before it becomes an addiction.
Hold, or the demons will rain, toxic tears to my waking existence.

Uhh..God bless all the real ones mane..
ONLY FOR THE REAL ENTERTAINMENT..

Aye (I'm pimping3)..pimping..Uhh,Yeah..(I'm pimping4)..(pimping..I'm pimping..I'm pimping3)..Uhh,Aye
..(I'm pimping4)..Yeah mane..Uhh..(I'm pimping3)..pimping,..
Young Ston..Only For The Real mane,..Yeah
(I'm pimping4)..pimping
/(I'm pimping2)...the industry like Bishop Don Juan mane,Yeah/2
Yeah,..(I'm pimping3)..like the bishop....Yeah mane..(I'm pimping3)..pimping, like Bishop Don Juan homie..Yeah, I'm pimping the industry, they ain't gone play me..(I'm pimping2)..like the Bishop.. (I'm pimping2)...like Fifty..(I'm pimping2)..the industry just like Don Juan mane, (Aye Yeah I'm pimping3)..I'm..(pimping2)..like Kat Williams....,Yeah mane,aye..(I'm pimping2)..Yeah mane..Aye

Ain't nobody gone play me, they better not even try to homie, ****, I'm way smarter than what I look like mane, I'm too wise to be another industry puppet aye..ain't nobody around me, ******* **** or falling in the white mans society trap..We all surpassing the **** ****,..
/yeah..(I'm pimping3)/2
Like   Bishop Don Juan my *****,..
/yeah..(I'm pimping3)/2
Like Fiffty..
I **** so hard, like DJay.., I'm the Mack mane call me Goldie.., no free me, because I'm never getting caught homie, I'm dodging the police..like, El Chapo mane.. **** the laws homie.Imma **** my nig..dawg..I grew so fast at a very young age,**** I had to why wait...Yeah I had to get my **** together sooner than later mane. No more kidding around homie,..Aye, I wanted to put all of my depression under my feet so I could get  my mind right mane, so I started smoking the pacc at 15 mane, I was kinda going down the wrong street, God had to correct me, Thank you so much Heavenly Father, you always pleases me..Ayo..
I'm pimping the industry like Bishop Don Juan mane..Aye..


Aye (I'm pimping3)..pimping..Uhh,Yeah..(I'm pimping4)..(pimping..I'm pimping..I'm pimping3)..Uhh,Aye..Yeah
(I'm pimping4)..pimping
/(I'm pimping2)...the industry like Bishop Don Juan mane,Yeah/2
Yeah,..(I'm pimping3)..like the bishop....Yeah mane..(I'm pimping3)..pimping, like Bishop Don Juan homie..Yeah, I'm pimping the industry, they ain't gone play me..(I'm pimping2)..like the Bishop.. (I'm pimping2)...like Fiffty..(I'm pimping2)..the industry just like Don Juan mane, (Aye Yeah I'm pimping3)..I'm..(pimping2)..like Kat Williams....,Yeah mane,aye..(I'm pimping2)..Yeah mane..Aye

Yeah.., I'm pimping the game, while these other musicians too ***** & afraid to spit the truth mane, but not me homie, its my job to let my ****** know whats real, instead of influencing them in a back of a hearse man, Yeah..
Im feeding yall ****** life instead of death, so listen clearly,.. Yeah *****, I'm preaching , Yeah I'm preaching (Yeah2)..Only The Holy Spirit coming through me..Only wisdom coming, outta my mouth mane,..,Im blessing the street ****** with knowledge, Aye.Yeah..
OFTR no false claiming my gang or you will get delt wit discreetly mane, if you know what that mean, just stay lo key away from me.
..Yeah OFTR,.
I does this for my family, we standing tall against, Satan Yeah..(I'm pimping3)..pimping.. Like Kat Williams..Aye,

Yeah..I'm pimping the industry like Bishop Don Juan mane..(Yeah*2)...
I'm pimping.. Uhh, This is my story,..,show & tell, so I'm only telling yall real ****..let's get it man..Yeah..Aye..
I'm pimping...

Never was a Walt sorta Kat, Though I do understand his works and his um desire which has a , distinct overlay into and onto my life, that ****... But Ezra, oh Ezra Pound, See I never even read a lick of his words, but a Picture a dear and well, um, interesting situation friend possibly, we will get to that latter, but A friend Justin Williams did a picture in Art class of Ezra, a pointillism portrait. don't have the picture on this drive but here is the original picture he was copying and it is found here: titled "73: RICHARD AVEDON 1923-2004 Ezra Pound at the Home "
https://www.liveauctioneers.com/item/1901663_richard-avedon-1923-2004-ezra-pound-at-the-home

Now ever since I saw this photo of Ezra pound Ihaving a migraine, which we have in common , I just related, to what I saw, and it was far more than a black and white picture, I saw the hues and colors of a man who was truly troubled by a knowledge, and as "Jesus" Yeshua Immanuel said in the The Nag Hammadi

Jesus said, "Let him who seeks continue seeking until he finds. When he finds, he will become troubled. When he becomes troubled, he will be astonished, and he will rule over the All."
and this I understood in the anguish in the picture and a moment one is hard pressed to hide ones true pains.
so a taste of his work, for today was the first time I have ever read it by choice of actually seeking it out. though this picture is my avatar on my OS system. funny how things are. ehh?

A Girl - Poem by Ezra Pound


The tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast -
Downward,
The branches grow out of me, like arms.

Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child - so high - you are,
And all this is folly to the world.
Ezra Pound

My Obsessive Compulsive Disorder causes me severe anxiety.

It's hard. To have it my way. It's hard. I overthink it. The images of the little things replay in my mind.
I can't seem to hide.

Why do I have this fear? Just make it all disappear. It's not reasonable yet it feels so intense.
I feel tense. I am not satisfied with my presence. I feel uncomfortable.
Why am I not content with my surroundings.

My disorder involves both obsessions and compulsions that take up lot of time and get in the way of important activities that I value.

So many mistakes that I need to fix.
So hard to perfect everything.

The line I drew isn't straight, I have to start all over.

I need to wash my hands again. It's been 5 minutes since I haven't.

Don't bite the Kit Kat, break off each stick and eat it.

The clothes in my closet should be hung up and organized by color.

My picture frame isn't hung up in the middle of the wall.

My food should not be mixed with the side dishes or I refuse to eat.

My apps aren't on the right page of my phone.
Twitter should be under social and instagram should be under photography and if it's not, it's wrong, it's all wrong!


I need to wash my hands again it's been 10 minutes since I haven't.

The tv volume should only be an even number or a multiple of five.

Why is my seatbelt twisted?
My mind is twisted.
All these errors are persistent.
So hard to resist it.

I am not leaving my house until my phone is 100%, 97% and I can't stand it (will not do. )

Mother tells me it'll be alright after i take my pills...I agree to as long as the pills are sorted by color

its never-ending torture.

you're in my dreams at night,
you've taken over my thoughts during the day,
i cant get a break.

but, maybe i dont want to
maybe, secretly, i like it.

maybe, just maybe,
im looking forward to it,
this never-ending torture.

it might not be so bad.

I remember the December weather,
I wore a smile outside your door,
They locked you out, but you weren't shocked,
I was, but I knew it must have been my chance,
So I acted cute, I was grateful,
But I wanted you, I was faithful,

Hand shake? Hug?
None of that;
A kiss on my cheek,
My legs went fleet,

I nearly fell over on the December ice, outside your home.
You look best during winter, although your summer shoulders make me smile.