Mexican rolled cigarette the soft blue light deep in his lungs—Mexican hands touching felt his pants slide down in soundless explosion of the throat and a taste of blood—His body twisted—Sleeps naked now—wind and water sounds—Outskirts of the city—shadow areas of sandwich booths and transient hotels under scenic railways—
We drank the beer and ate the smorbrot—I dropped half a sandwich in my lap and she wiped the butter off with a napkin laughing as the cloth bulged under her fingers my back against a tree the sun on my crotch tingling filling with blood she opened my belt and: “Raise up, darling,” pulled my pants down to the knee—
We ate the smorbrot with hot chocolate from the thermos bottle and I spilled a cup of chocolate in my lap and jumped up and she wiped the chocolate off with a paper napkin and I dodged away laughing as the cloth bulged under her fingers and she followed me with the napkin and opened my belt—I felt my pants slide down and the sun on my naked crotch tingling and filling with blood—We did it half undressed—When I came there was silver light popped in my eyes like a flash bulb and looking over her shoulder I saw little green men in the trees swinging from branch to branch turning cartwheels in the air—And sex acts by naked acrobats on tightropes and balancing poles—Jissom drifting cobwebs through clear green light—Washed in the stream and pulled up my pants—We rode back to Copenhagen on my motor scooter—I left her in front of her flat block and arranged a meeting for Sunday—As she walked away I could see the grass stains on the back of her dress—That night I was blank and went back to a bar in Neuerhaven where I can usually find a tourist to buy drinks—and sat down at a table with a boy about my age—I noticed he had a very small narrow head tapering from his neck which was thick and smooth and something strange about his eyes—The iris was shiny black like broken coal with pinpoint green pupils—He turned and looks straight at me and I got a feeling like scenic railways in the stomach—Then he ordered two beers—“I see that you are blank,” he said—The beers came—“I work with the circus,” he said—balancing his chair—“Like this on wires—never with net—In South America I did it over a gorge of a thousand meters in depth.”
Balancing he drank the Tuborg—“There are not many who can see us—Come and I will show you our real acts.”
We took a cab to the outskirts of the city—There was a warm electric wind blowing through the car that seemed to leave the ground—We came to what looked like a ruined carnival by a lake—In a tent lit by flickering blue globes I met more boys with the same narrow head and reversed eyes—They passed around a little pipe and I smoked and felt green tingling in my crotch and lips—A Negro drummer began pounding his drum with sticks—The boys got up laughing and passing the pipe and talking in a language like bird calls and took off their clothes—They climbed a ladder to the high wire and walked back and forth like cats—A magic lantern projected color writing on their bodies that looked like Japanese tattooing—They all got erections and arching past each other on the wire genitals touched in a shower of blue sparks—One boy balanced a steel chair on the wire and ejaculated in a crescendo of drum beats and flickering rainbow colors—jissom turning slow cartwheels dissolved in yellow light—Another boy with earphones crackling radio static and blue sparks playing around his yellow hair did a Messerschmitt number—the chair rocking in space—tracer bullets of jissom streaking cross interstellar void—(Naked boys on roller skates turn slow circles at the intersection of ruined suburbs—falling through a maze of penny arcades—spattered the cracked concrete weeds and dog excrement—) The boys came down from the wire and one of them flicked my jacket—I took off my clothes and practiced balancing naked in a chair—The balance point was an electrical field holding him out of gravity—The charge built up in his genitals and he came in a wet dream the chair fluid and part of his body—That night made sex with the boy I met in Neuerhaven for the first time with each other in space—Sure calm of wire acts balanced on ozone—blue electric spasms—Smell of burning metal in the penny arcade I got a hard on looking at the peep show and Hans laughed pointing to my fly: “Let’s make the roller coaster,” he said—The cashier took our money with calm neutral glance—A young Italian clicked us out—We were the only riders and as soon as the car started we slipped off our shorts—We came together in the first dip as the car started up the other side throwing blood into our genitals tight and precise as motor parts—open shirts flapping over the midway—Silver light popped in my head and went out in blue silence—Smell of ozone—You see sex is an electrical charge that can be turned on and off if you know the electromagnetic switchboard—Sex is an electrical flesh trade—It is usually turned on by water sounds—Now take your sex words on rose wallpaper brass bed—Explode in red brown green from colors to the act on the association line—Naked charge can explode sex words to color’s rectal brown green ass language—The sex charge is usually controlled by sex words forming an electromagnetic pattern—This pattern can be shifted by substituting other factors for words—Take a simple sex word like “masturbate”—“jack off”—Substitute color for the words like: “jack”—red “off”—white—red—white—Flash from words to color on the association screen—Associate silently from colors to the act—Substitute other factors for the words—Arab drum music—Musty smell of erections in outhouses—Feel of orgasm—Color-music-smell-feel to the million sex acts all time place—Boys red-white from ferris wheels, scenic railways, bridges, whistling bicycles, tree houses careening freight cars train whistles drifting jissom in winds of Panhandle—shivering through young bodies under boarding house covers rubbly outskirts of South American city ragged pants dropped to cracked bleeding feet black dust blowing through legs and genitals—Pensive lemur smell of erection—cool basement toilets in St. Louis—Summer afternoon on car seats to the thin brown knee—Bleak public school flesh naked for the physical the boy with epilepsy felt The Dream in his head struggling for control locker room smells on his stomach—He was in The Room with many suitcases all open and drawers full of things that had to be packed and only a few minutes to catch the boat whistling in the harbor and more and more drawers and the suitcases won’t close arithmetical disorder and the wet dream tension in his crotch—The other boys laughing and pointing in the distance now as he got out of control silver light popped in his eyes and he fell with a sharp metal cry—through legs and genitals felt his pants slide—shivering outskirts of the city—wind of morning in a place full of dust—Naked for a physical orgasms occur—tightening stomach muscles—scenic railways exploded in his crotch—Legs and genitals lost outline careening through dream flesh—smell of the mud flats—warm spurts to sluggish stream water from the tree house—a few inches apart laughing in the sunlight jissom cartwheels in the clear air of masturbating afternoons—pulled up my pants—Explosion of the throat from color to the act jumped up laughing in the transient hotels—careening area of sandwich booths—Silver writing burst in moonlight through a Mexican about twenty shifting his crotch sighed and moved naked now a few inches in his hand—pleasure tingling through cracked bleeding feet—With phantom limbs his cock got hard sensations on roller skates—slow intersection of weeds and concrete—Penny arcades spattered light on a Mexican about twenty—Wet dreams of flight sighed in lamp—Flash from word to color sex acts all time place exploded in muscles drifting sheets of male flesh—Boys on wind of morning—first spurts unbuttoned my pants—Area of sandwich booths and intolerable scenic railways he came wet dream way—(In the tree house black ants got into our clothes pulling off shirts and pants and brushing the ants off each other he kept brushing my crotch—“there’s an ant there” and jacked me off into the stream of masturbating afternoons)—Hans laughed pointing to my shorts—Pants to the ankle we were the only riders—Wheee came together in the first dip open shorts flapping genitals—Wind of morning through flesh—Outskirts of the city—
ITS ACCOUNTS
Now hazard flakes fall—A huge wave rolled treatment “pay back the red
you stole”—Farewell for Alexander—Fading out in Ewyork, Onolulu, Aris, Ome, Oston—Sub editor melted into air—I Sekuin hardly breathe—Dreams are made of might be just what I am look: Prerecorded warning in a woman’s voice—Scio is pulling a figure out of logos—A huge wave bowled a married couple off what you could have—Would you permit that person in Ewyork, Onolulu, Aris, Ome, Oston?—One assumes a “beingness” where past crimes highlighted the direction of a “havingness”—He boasted of a long string of other identities—She gave no indication of fundamental agreement—We returned to war—Process pre-clear in absurd position for conditions—Scio is like pulling a figure out of The Homicide Act—Logos got Sheraton Call and spent the weekend with a bargain—Venus Vigar choked to passionate weakness—The great wind identity failed—So did art loving Miss West—Every part of your dust yesterday along the High Street Air—The flakes fall that were his cruelest lawyer: show you fear on walls and windows treatment—Farewell trouble for Alexander—Pay back the red you stole living or dead from the sky—Hurry up please its accounts—Empty thing police they fading out—Dusk through narrow streets, toilet paper, and there is no light in the window—April wind revolving illness of dead sun—Woman with red hair is a handful of dust—Departed have left used avenue—Many years ago that youngster—It was agony to breathe in number two intake—Dreams of the dead—Prerecorded warning—Remember I was carbon dioxide—It is impossible to estimate the years in novitiate postulating Sheraton Carlton Call—Loose an arrow—Thud—Thing Police fading out in Ewyork, Onolulu, Aris, Ome, Oston—See where he struck—Oh no discounts and compensations—Stop tinkering with what you could have—Must go in time—Stop tinkering with recompense—You’ll know me in dark mutinous mirrors of the world—Yesterday along high street massive treatment:: “Pay back the red you stole”—A shame to part with it?? Try various farewell trouble?? Near curtains for them and trouble shuffled out of the die—Along high street account reaching to my chest—Pay back the red you stole happened—Effects Boys said farewell to Alexander Bargain—“What are we going to do? Thing police they fading out—Sub editor melted into air—So I had to do Two Of A Kind on toilet paper—Obvious sooner that air strip.”
“It was agony to breathe—What might be called the worried in number two intake—Barry going to do?—Partisans of all nation learn all about it—Red Hair we were getting to use on anyone—Pit too—Going to get out of it?”
A colorless question drifted down corridors of that hospital—“I Sekuin—Tell me what you would permit to remain?”
SIMPLE AS A HICCUP
Mr. Martin, hear us through something as simple as a hiccup tinkering with the disaster accounts—All Board Room Reports are classified as narcotic drugs—Morphine is actually “Mr. Martin,” his air line the addict—I have said the basic techniques: every reason to believe the officers dictate in detail with a precise repetition of stimuli place of years—Techniques of nova reports are stimuli between enemies—Dimethyltryptamine pain bank from “disagreeable symptoms”—Overdose by precise repetition can be nightmare experience owing to pain headphones send nova spirit from Hiroshima and Nagasaki—“Mr. Martin,” hear us through mushroom clouds—Start tinkering with disaster brains and twisting all board room reports—Their pain line is the addict—Pain bank from the torture chambers—Every reason to believe the officers torn into insect fragments by precise repetition of years—Tortured metal pain spirit Uranian born of nova conditions send those blasts—Great wind revolving the nova spirit in image flakes—Every part of your translucent burning fire head shut off, Mr. Bradly, in the blue sky writing of Hassan i Sabbah—That hospital melted in Grey Room—Writing of Hassan i Sabbah postulating you were all smoke drifting from something as simple as a hiccup—I have said the basic techniques of the world and mutilated officers dictate in detail with iron claws of the chessmen place of years—Hassan i Sabbah through all disaster accounts—Last door of nova and all the torture expanding drugs—Pressure groups teach mechanisms involved—Disaster of nova pulsed need dictates use of throat bones—I Sabbah walk in the recordings write dripping faucet and five flashes per second—The rhythmic turrets destroy enemy installations—Cortex winds overflowing into mutinous areas hearing color seeing “Mr. Bradly Mr. Martin”—Just time—Just time—I quote from Anxiety And Its Treatment in Grey Room—Apomorphine as a hiccup—Hassan i Sabbah through apomorphine acts on the hypothalamus and regulates blood serum of the world and mutilated officers—Melted a categorical “no mercy for this enemy” as dust and smoke—
THERE’S A LOT ENDED
New York, Saturday March 17, Present Time—For many he accidentally blew open present food in The Homicide Act—Anyway after that all the top England spent the weekend with a bargain—Intend to settle price—I had work in Melbourne before doing sessions—Australia in the gates—Dogs must be carried—Reluctant to put up any more Amplex—Go man go—There’s a lot ended—Flashes The Maharani of Check Moth—The clean queen walks serenely down dollars—Don’t listen to Hassan i Sabbah—We want Watney’s Woodbines and all pleasures of the body—Stand clear of The Garden Of Delights—And love slop is a Bristol—Bring together state of news—Inquire on hospital—At the Ovens Great Gold Cup—Revived peat victory hopes of Fortria—Premature Golden sands in Sheila’s cottage?—You want the name of Hassan i Sabbah so own the unborn?—Cool and casual through the hole in thin air closed at hotel room in London—Death reduces the college—Seriously considered so they are likely to face lung cancer disciplinary action—
Venus Vigar choked to death with part-time television—Ward boy kept his diary thoughts and they went back meticulously to the corridor—He pointed out that the whole world had already watched Identikit—“Why, we all take satisfaction—Rode a dancing horse on sugar avenue—Prettiest little thought you ever saw”—
The capsule was warm in Soho—An operation has failed to save American type jeans—Further talks today with practical cooperation—There are many similarities—Solicitor has ally at Portman Clinic—The Vital Clue that links the murders is JRR 284—Finished off in a special way just want to die—When his body was found three young men are still dancing the twist in The Swede’s Dunedin muck spreading The New Zealand after 48 hours in his bed sitter—Stephen film was in the hospital—Definition of reasonable boy body between his denials—Identity popped in flash bulb breakfast—Yards and yards of entrails hung around the husband irrevocably committed to the toilet—The Observer left his friend in Cocktail Probation—Vanished with confessed folk singer—Studio dresser John Vigar found dead on the old evacuation plan—The body, used in 1939, year of Vigar’s birth, was naked—Both men had been neatly folded—As the series is soon ending are these experiments really necessary? Uncontrolled flash bulbs popped in rumors—Said one: “All this is typical Dolce just before Christ Vita—”—Quiet man in 624A said the tiny bedroom as doctor actor would never do—Police examined the body counter outside little groups of denials—Miss Taylor people hung around the husband—He plays Mark even Anthony with Liz—There was great bustle through the red hair—Born in Berlin and made his first threat to peace at the age of 17—Hanratty was then brought up as a Jew—Over 100 police in unfashionably dressed women search for boy who had protested definition of “reasonable friend” and “circumstantial police”—Prime haggling going on—Sir, I am delighted to see that/ writes about/ I am quite prepared to/ Last attention is being paid to routine foundations on the Square Generation/ The light woman is at the clear out/ if they wish to live their moment without answering to me/ this of course they will not do
James swaggering about in arson to be considered—Murder in the operating theatre at Nottingham—Stephen said to be voting through yards and yards of entrails irrevocably committed to the toilet—
ONE MORE CHANCE?
Scientology means the study of “humanity’s condition” —Wise radio doctor—Logos Officers in his portable—The
Effects Boy’s “scientology release” is locks over the Chinese—Told me to sit by Hubbard guide—
“What are you going to do?—That person going to get out of ‘havingness’??”
Will cover the obvious usually sooner than later—Globe is self you understand until assumed unwittingly “reality” is made out of “Mr. Martin”—To agree to be Real is “real” and the way the flakes fall—Game conditions and no game every time—For him always been a game consists of “freed galaxies”—End getting an effect on the other team now ended—Look around here it’s curtains for them—Be able to not know his past circumstances—Scio is knowing and wind hand to the hilt—Work we have logos you got it? Dia through noose—Jobbies would like to strike—Release certificate is issued for a respectable price—Find a process known as “overwhelming,” what?—Come back work was what you could have—What would you permit that person—?? Food in The Homicide Act??—Look around and accept “one more chance”?? “Havingness” bait and it’s curtains—End anatomy of games—The fundamental reward business the bait—The cycle of “Humanity’s condition”—Apparent because we believe it—One assumes a “beingness” over the Chinese—Like to strike a bargain: Other identities—Is false identity—In the end is just the same—Fundamentally agreement—All games for respectable share of these “barriers” and “purposes”—Know what they mean if they start “no-effect”??
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