ON a posta, carde; the next eulogy; The Naked Sausage

[notes: 8 in a circle, eulogy for the f blog; based on this: book


source, cited: text: erich segal love story


I. She and she and not she.

I was waiting to drink juice;

this is why I have trauma with juice;

no really listen; giggles;

and the other kid said:

we told him don’t say that don’t say that

we had a bad feeling about She.

he was very blond Like white blond very interesting as in his hair was nearly white

Like your drink.

Was it lemonade.

Well you know when you’re little lemonade is called juice, too.

I wonder why.


He said: I want chocolate.

She didn’t say anything back. She pulled out a gun; and shot him in the head.

Then she said to us, the other kids: “He’s racist.”

He never bled to death; and one of us said; what do you mean.

She said in a gross wiggle like the worst of them para sides: the ones you call feel in the suck philander you into obesity while all you do is work out and diet; so don’t die, t like that. giggles.

He was too afraid to speak again; though he didn’t die.


We hadn’t realized then; well he hadn’t the blond kid; that she’d invented a new hallucination into mainstream; though you can hardly call what you’re thinking of an invention; the gun. She had invented the gun; and it only killed on karma; she said she was sure she said as we ate chocolate and the blond kid watches. It’s funny because in that scene most of us were blond.

Oh yeah there was more than one she there; I forgot that part; I figured that was obvious.


II. Sky and recycling


She was edifying-ly sky and she spoke a foreign tongue to me; it was her energy to recycle words even more than necessarily edifying; she wasn’t pretty she would say; and where she lived her neighbors would agree; but of course; she had a brother; and he wouldn’t say anything; and that told us the whole story; it was the real definition of cited: autism in our generation; a friend to who was pretty; she died when she was five; because she saw man cited: heathrow ugly and naked fleshy in his gruesome sausage; and it’s really what most of us think of but of course she didn’t want that and so it wasn’t her time yet; she went to wane and almost we never saw her again; she was young and she was old; and her brother never got to see other men naked not even in a locker room; it was an oddity; for him to have never seen another man naked; not even another boy; he almost what forgot what his body looked like naked; and he knew why his sister was a kali; a kali reality person; where of course reality is a strange thing to be.


theme: hunger mis-translated

theme music citation: helena beat Foster the People


III. Wonder Sticker Nick.

I wondered why people would want to describe her as sticker nick. it sounded like something bad; but of course then you met her; and it was a bat; bats she like those so much. Anyway that’s how we met him through the lady who we bought bats from. I guess I should say not the kind you’re thinking of well maybe; we get to bats; and people for once almost seem to know more; of course not all of us are people ; some of us are witches, animals animal spirits, devas, and the kin; so  let’s not forget that.

He was a zinfandel boy; and his slaughter never loved him. Wouldn’t you smile at that,  that? At a funeral for the young; you always have to think of harm and how it was caused; and who it was caused by; and then of course you have to think of what young means in relevance.

More that he had a slaughter who loved him, and he was a caribou boy that stuck out as such in his new family which of course was without his family. He had a stase that adored him too; and he had an adieu that had chosen him already; he even had a price. Not like he ws for sale; but like he had done. So we wonder why such a caribou would die so young; leaving us and the bat lady indefinitely. Well it’s funny because that’s why. We of course aren’t we; but we all started as we; and then we subjugated into later We; which of course was a different we; and then later we decided who was going to belong to later We; and who was still in old We; and who was never going to leave first We; a motif of prior hell; and of course in death of the young especially but any that deserve our welfare we hope they wayfare not unto hell; unless of course they are gonna make it.

It doesn’t have to be out. Of course hell, hells can go with you; and that’s interesting isn’t it. Like how far can hell go with you like to heaven. That’s interesting isn’t it. But the out the out is good to; if you like you’re done.

Because in the best hells are blasting hard works and not hard whips; and food that gruels tasty; and smells that enchant. and of course all of that is real; and you get to keep yours, forever. Hell really is a marriage; I only mention it here; because I know caribous have a culture of wanting to belong in the best of Hells. That’s always fun; I suppose they enchant themselves.


Lets wish the zinfandel boy well in his death-fare upon the remembrance of especially his stase, his slaughter, and even his adieu. And upon the remembrance that wish each of those entities: well already: stase, slaughter, and adieu.




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