It’s probably easier to write with big boy words.

Certain to dream and to determine this natural course. Like I mentioned, finger tips numb. Cold weather and snow make for fascinating derivations. Like. Like. People say what they say out of habit 9 times outta 10 and there is nothing wrong with that. I don’t think I mind it. Anyway. Be cool. Play nice. I wonder if I should should inform the lesbians – who I love out of spite – that the spot is haunted as a motherfucker. Otherwise I’d be a sadist. I should.

I like t’ say I am divided force for Love’s Sake. I still have that Satanic Bible, which – mind the words – was/is a surrealist prank. Still. Dali/Cocteau, out of their group mind & opium, plotting how to overturn the Vatican. Just those two words together. Satanic. Bible.

Sin and making the freaks – as L. Ron Hubbard stated – “fair game”. Hey. The Cartels need their money laundered too. The vice industry was perfected by the Jesuits. Nevermind. That is just hearsay nonsense. I should walk around in a hood and whip myself. Higher education.

Mountain over lake and all that lame masturbatory genious. sic. I remember that episode when Rocco got his appendix out. Not Siffredi. The modern one, not the medieval one. I’m sure the good doctor would say it was imminent. A couple K of clams for the templ/ar dreaming. They are spying on you regardless, so why not confound and amuse?

Carefully with the Protocols, Hank. The Plan is unfolding like a thousand petal lotus.