22 March 2012

above: Too Subtle...? 

I keep adding and subtract pages from MS, as I always seem thirty more or less pages from completing it, as I add and then remove scenes. To this end, I found a pile of slips of paper in my purple folder which were several scenes, them themselves drawn on squares of paper cut from larger sorts, and I could Spackle images back together with Elmer's, like I was Dorothy Commingore, playing Ms Kane on the Xandadu floor with jigsaw puzzles. These images were all folded once then again then those folded to make squares and I wondered what the hell was I thinking...making more dastardly panels, that sequential shit they speak of constantly, I wasn't sure as strangely goddess and Hercules bodies were in etches without feet or heads and I was wondering  exactly what I was going for. But since them are nice older pages, most from the beginning burst of creativity of making Mister Stupendous, I taped as many as I could get back together to make recover Mosaics of my comic art, wondering if I could by mussing oil pastels make a new picture and utilize  these sadly shorn away sheets.

I got an email, perhaps showing I am sometime listened to, fwd to me from an address I really cant recall, what seems like a fake name, but fragilely familiar. Inside the email, which I stupidly click on almost everything I get if the antenna doesn't go up, I found an ad sent to me for a screenwriters contest, which I haven't in general entered in years, this one, I had never heard of. Backable scripts.com, it was called, and when I clicked on the ad, the form, Anthony came up for first name, Acri, then, then an old address, then an old email...how did this happen I thought,...? But I had feeling I was if not being watched, being read, as having just made the post of The Banker movie, I was forwarded this to me from someone who, as I had seen before and posted as much, become somewhat admired I do, by Jews and Italians, and how have literally told me not to give in and give up nor in. And, as one man named Michael at Zoetrope told me as much, and which not wanting to sound like one of those pussy politicos who blame Palling for their insufferable losing, those fat ankled white women who know not even the preening of the rat hating omerta, I made sure they knew at Zoetrope that someone there told me to continue to always "tell the truth", and not give in. So there, as a Beatrice would say.

I had received another email, this asking me, Wanna See Wendy Fiore naked...? Well who doesn't but the queers and their fat wristed beards who help to sabotage Mac Kane,...? You bet!,... I thought and clicked on it, almost busting my ...uh...thumb. And I went to a web site called Mad thumbs or something like this, which had a movie in you tube fashion, meaning I had to buffer it, of a still shot of a big fat white ass bleeding from a massive ghetto cock puncturing it. Ah, Love in the time of Terrets and PSSD. I literally was taken aback, and I have even read Boccacchio. Oh, Keith dear every day is the ides of March once you get this far into the joke, AS after all Dan Savage is  our Virgil now, as we swim through the backwash, and wade through the run off, still like this Hyman blood, soon enough a Roman Bath. Being a pussy, despite my tough guy exterior, I quickly reloaded up Wendy Fiore.com, and saw to my sighing joy that this Italian girl preeminent hadn't become another fat chick fucked by horse shlonged niggers for bang bro's perpetual fan boys, who thought that some of these women should actually be seen publicly or as close as the Internet comes. I sat back, with a strange variation of the ease and collapse I was thinking of, when clicked on as I undid  my button fly, but was glad to see that she was still the dreamily playful cock tease covering her balloons with silk and fists, as she does with Mona Lisa smirk,  that I had come to admire so, as I love a playful bitchy brunette and know deep down she understand omerta and wouldn't like a fetid blond think she could blame Palling and anyone else, and play grieved Pretorian on television, or as close as MSNBC COMES.You just know Lesser than Ezra will be on tonight explaining to us in that rabbinical drawl, that being for a pipeline you were against as recently as Monday is sheer political genius. Or maybe dying a thousandth time, which is all from the same well anyway, and close enough for a rounding error, heheheheh....is South Park on yet...?

I felt bad I polluted my lovely HP with that slop, that porno shit. I saw that someone, a well wisher had somehow fwd this screenwriter contest to me, which I have had more of than I do admit to, me playing the role of last angry Roman as I do. Still I was sent this, and with bank account ballooning to 137 dollars from my various squirreling, I clicked in and sent my debit card number. I uploaded my play RM. Not hoping to win the peanut 1000 bucks, although it more than I have now, but in the same way I saw on Amazon .com that I have sold 7 copies of AR. If that seems a pittance, still, it is a point of pride to me that I have done so, as each copy sold sent, read, each image posted, each clip of Cattiline I may make and edit with a canon T2-1reble which I am negotiating to buy...uh...used it fell off an areoplane in Latrobe and was found...and now my buddy Cha-cha wants 400 dollars for it-which is a fucking bargain I know...see, each page I write, each cartoon sent and each set design I do, everything I do, is that Paulo Milano moral imperative I speak of. As, in every PAGE I MAKE, every mark on every wall, as well meaning and smirking Falvia told me once, every sign and every scratch on every imperial facade is s a site to  behold, and truth not bought and paid for like corned beef at the local deli. Fuck off Jewry Jonnie and Boston Charley and their demanding of silence from Newt, or anyone else...My man, Michael Steele, --Otis my mahn, was on some show where the cunt in question sneered about Newt LEAVING THE RACE, and bra-man said with a lilt, does it bother you...? This motherfucker, Shaft, he will take you out. Its sad as men on TV each day, like the secret storm or password when I was kid, these hacks and knivers and smilers, demanding silence  of others is well, too unjesuit for me, and too much like what the women think...I read Sallust bitch, and like him, and unlike HBO, I don't take dictation neither.


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