get something out onto the paper, your spit maybe, or the rancid longing that has become a situational hazard, and a worm in the rose kind of virtuous shit-show which means a fuck ton to me and probably very little, if not nothing at all, to you. what a glorious day to support your brothers and sisters! ive got you feeling righteous, maybe we can do it in the dirt later. i feel like myself again, i feel my corpulent butter-fuck skin, and its sweet Paula Dean shit- but hell its still better than most. Im out in the wild wild west and im riding horses and learning to use a lasso. you always told me it was bullshit that horses can sense your nerves, but now I know that I'm right, and all the horses know is that im the boss and I'm quite good with a lasso, if not just a bit of an entitled bitch sometimes. it's time for action. finger-to-nose action if you ask some of my friends. ive been sneezing all week and the only one who's noticed is my fucking horse.
i think it would be so hot to secede from the union. we could be on our own without thinking any evil thoughts anymore. imagine drinking sun-warmed Lagunitas and going down on me all day long in our own private country. you could even be president. i don't care much for titles as long as you figure out how we can grow my red roses in the desert. maybe build a greenhouse or use GMOs or just have them imported from the U.S. fuck being self-sufficient, and fuck getting haircuts, too.
anyway the west is wild and I've stopped reading books because I've started to think other people's thoughts and its making me go bat-shit. Ive been keeping a pet scorpion and I have no clue what it eats but I'd like it to drink milk like a kitten.
this whole "well, someone has tuh do it" attitude is terrible. i sure as fuck don't want to clean the manure from the stalls at the end of the week but I don't see why anyone else should do it either. i think robots will be great because they'll start off doing their jobs like we order, and then once everything is nice and spruced-up spick n' span godly-groomed and easy on the eyes they'll wipe this race out all together, and then self-destruct. my horse is a stallion and I bet he would rise up and rule the desert.
S, words turn into worms here. I have this dream where I'm an old bison about to die, and all I want is to be killed by Buffalo Bill, but every time he finds me he just says; After crossing the Smoky Hill River, I felt comparatively safe as this was the last stream I had to cross. It is so fucking boring. i used to have a real thing for the inane, but now ive got a thing for black and white, tell-all, see-through right to the nipples sanity. Last night for the first time Bill turned to me and said; We got more provisions for our whiskey than the same money, which we paid for the liquor, would have bought; so after all it proved a very profitable investment. i really don't think it's the kind of dream i should ever consider much.
i carry an unloaded rifle and i walk different now too. im not taking it easy although easy does it, as you like to say.
when I close my eyes theres a furry tiger cross and a golden dick and two rose petals (one crispy brown and one that sexy Indian red) and the feeling that someone is laughing very hard, right near me. could you tell me what it means? sometimes i think you don't know me at all anymore.
S, you aren't a "lone wolf", and while your collegiate love-me-anyway shit used to get me all hot, now I've got the mean desert sun for that, and my skin is red red chili red all on its own.
Will you come visit anyway? there are certain hot things the sun cant do.