imagining there must be heads, ears, places where the execution of tick tack and boom like the smacking of lips or gums, near talk, drooly breathing, makes such racket that it is unbgearable and the earye focusses lamely on something way away far to try to not notice, get ice on yer hearing and nice on yer smile, cause the sound is gunna drive ya nuts. you need a tune to different channels, other rivers, other riders and learn to revere different locales. you need a tune period fore the others hurry you hearst-ward toward grave musk, calcules and nations. Stop counting. This afternoon the first rows of caw were quiet. It was 53 in the computer and way too late and too blue and bright in the the window. i stat too far into the circuit tree and now my back up aches and the lower bells are tied in nots: i’m not gettin a job today, i’m not likely to feel relacks just the ax part since the sense of organising the project songriot is only slowly like skin graft growing like culture rotting like pietri kind of baffling to look at. but oh wish well i have a first post to the blog, an outpost. the first centsences toward postage.

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