Archetextures of the last time,
taken for what they are will never quite be what they could be.
And you yourself will never be a millesecond ahead or behind your destiny.

A tale:

As you approach the moat of centipedes and cockroaches you notice a shining message in a bottle floating at the top.
Decifered
It declares war on your stronghold
and immeadeatly and painfully you notice an arrow shot through your chest
which is itself adorned with a message
heralding the dawn of a bloodless revolution.
You are its one casualty, martyr and ironically, idillicly as you drift off to die, your last thought is that your a monarch butterfly flapping its happy lil wings.

aw.

1. Dead levity in a deluge of dead letters living testaments to their homesick authors' duty to tame meaninglessness though wit.

2.being crushed by nostalgia for the dawn of time is a very modern way to die. Kids these days dont get the upper body strength afforded from a healthy dose of byzantine witchcraft worldview.

1+2= 3

3 days untill Im done with this.

Torts final > go crazy > sleep maybe > fly on a plane yes> see chicago through the edens expressway> see chloe

The sun thing goes hunting for sport

And at its core it feels alive while stalking

the bright line walking made moot by thoughts of being

Bored

when locked up in clear cold -cocked mockery

(ahem: mayhem ensues along the scenic route….)

Cockled and shackled in the wrath

Blotted and bottled in the black ash of middle night

Happy and able and babbling about nutrients

Too many hunter’s sons and not enough sun hunters

so I guess instead of bless

…. its time to eat chopped wood and chop wood and eat hot food and feel not good

before befriending satisfaction fore

the blood bubble goblet spills blood drops on our fable-tops

And I wont let the coal get ashen black like a memory lick

Salt pours out

lets get severed from the eye lid’s business…

I don’t take any of this to mean that the rye means to pry

But I don’t need to surmise from your eyes

that the bride means to rise before the slice weds the bottom loaf

Poof

holes in cobblers workings should carry the moonlight in to the trap

Muddled alacrity for other reasons than no.......

I trap the quick lightning and it bugs me like an itch in hell for a second of eternal nuisance and

I gather that rather than ask for aid in the old séance I sense its better to let it bitter and wither on the tongue before I open my mouth in the presence of souls fooled by our games who breathe urgently that their names,

silently lost on the journey,

should get crossed from the list of guesses

before they go and for get what they were

and they begin to blurt them…

and we misunderstand them so bad and I breathe one of them in out of an accidental urge

Now, I know there’s no need to eat fate

so far so good,

But what of when the false buffet is buttered by the art of dark summoned sour

hospitality propped up by the staples of pardoners out on the prowl?

The shroud of the hardening hour is like bleary eyes barely seeing arteries through squints

and things are thin

Not as they should be

Not as they should get

What are we saying here?

That now we are called cannibals when we breathe ghosts or that we could go for some animals right about now?

And then it dawned on me....

I am the factory troll.

the retread turn journey took me and the retired retard about five altered tickets and a full intinerary intern paycheck to check us out for good.

Far went I and prince Hal Salacee I hailed us a cabbie who was from somewhere in france If Im not mistaken. At the airport we dropped our bags in a little box which took them to a ramp which freed them from the cage which locked them in the hold and off they went.
We, meat puppets and all
waited our turn to be called and all and went instead to the salad bearing coffee refreshment counter where we had no reservations about making dinner plans right here right now and both got a bite and sat in the food court to dine.

At about nine till we made a dash for the terminal where all was well with the plane.
Now when it was time to buckle and bounce the captaine announced that his name was germaine.

Flight 1353 took a preety swift rise. It was a dark sky but the sun was up there the whole time.
we were told we were welcomed to coffee and complimentary tuned out white noise and views of the so low down earth that it was a little like they were offering us nothing because we couldnt see it.

I mentioned to Hal that when we landed we were bound for glory and he just smiled and said that since we were bred for glory we would be bound for a short story on a numerical polution rag such as a dog newspaper or a fog blog.

I didn't have a clue what he meant but I spilled my coffee on us both in a polite way.

We entered tommorrow in about 3 hours and one half of the horizon was rizin in gold streams of husk damage from the world egg. (I know that one half of the planet dies while the other gets born you dont got to tell me.)

When the great plains came up and the small plane touched down I was ready to pack up and get the fuck off when we taxied on the run way and the pilot was bewildered as to why.

I asked hal what was on his mind and all I got was a bored "bluhhh"


Today was the last leg of our journey because were home now and have grown weary of the tired and cold feast. I tell you this because I need to vacuum and Hal has found the hereafter down a small well in his village he wished in when he was a little villain
.

physics and fire and war with all
and where were we? the pirates they sigh
the furniture dies on the funeral pyre and
where will wi?

damned tabula dance marks the mixture fowl and folly
shame
strategy feins to control the lame doubt column brigade
Duck!

yeah
yeah

but after the math
were blessed so well rise
and walk on the legends
with the kings

The prince of opposites lived a tame life but exacted a preety wild death.

He was doomed to scrub the leeches from the breeches
but deligted to dub the beaches along this coastline all the livlong day anything he may or may not say when the wind washes through his teeth.

His daughter,
who was groomed to be the queen of foresight but grew so smooth and apt into her title as is:
the widow of whim
(even though her admirers to this day faun over her with polutions of this grace and tell themselves and eachother that she will gird the annals of wisdom (which is true but not at the time they say such nonsense))

She will see a chance and pounce on it, but not before acting on the preceding ones that blur across her path in such a way that mid pounce she falls face first onto another one unbeknownst to all awaiting her true course of choice.

As she does this
the rest of the world sees her making many a mistake
while the wonder is that it is not possible for her to make a mistake and not even she is privy to this little machination of chancefiber
(and the wonder is just as cluelessly viscious because noone asks the wonder for its two cents only a here and there dime upon revelation time)

what happens if your doomed but you don't know your doomed?

or

if you know your doomed but your wrong?

-look it up in the plucked eye library-
-find it out in the outer bound clown zone-
-hand it over in the cool hand luke drop box-
-fill the blanks in the habeos corpus-
-steal the way we all steal away-
-feel the whole dont ever fill the void- (eww!)
-unlock the door yr bound to flock to a better place-
-take yr time dont ever brake out the tethered lace- (eww?)
-fake the mistake dont ever right the wrongs wrong-
-cascade along the wall what way out there, adjust yr eyes to see way way out there-

(p) Notes-
Contracts must float in and out of human communication like possible word-magnets which can gain and lose force over our future actions as the conversation is steered by our split second desires and signal to noise/cost/benefit considerations.

this...
http://www.toonopedia.com/gummi.htm
is what I researched today instead of my contracts and property.

also this posting.

anything not related to learning about law.

which was most of my day because while I was at school my head was made of gummi

in coming to law school, I knew I would be bombarded with terminology that would simultaneously enlighten, sharpen and numb my mind in varying degrees...

Little did I know that the word "housekeeping" would be among this vocab.

then again, it might just be a south Florida thing.


...kid spatula drove me
kid 606 was truant today....

Law school is making my heart beat.

Ill take it to court howbout.




kid spatula sent me
and kid 606 woke me

Ok. So Im 18 in this dream and all my greatest fears are sort of clumped together inside of this little black box that I have to open and the truth is, I have no trouble with doing this, only my 40 yr old self is terrified and wont let me do it. So then I become aware of the two selves and all the time of my life between 18 and now and

http://www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/cassini/multimedia/pia07966.html

remember you and me commin outa that epic seance and I asked you if youd give me a ride home and you answered in some lost and lonesome tongue unpremeditated?

http://tolweb.org/tree/phylogeny.html

http://www.presstube.com/

I would rather be bound to my actions than bound to my accent. ahem.....

For those individuals who know Josh Sigman's ways and have him in your memory, I have created this blog to increase interconnectivity.

Hope it works aught.

I am going to the swamps very soon and will be studying the art of jurisprudence there. (check it http://ws1.stu.edu/lawschool/ )

I plan to update this space with spaced out pictures and music and links to such.

If things get cloudy Ill start over.

Adios buchachos

chttp://earth.google.com/

probly dont need to post this here because the host for these words is already a con-google-glomerate.

but:

People of the earth and the hearafter. Chech this link and update your graphix card for a wild ride.

also heres a mirrored picture from a while back