Interjection: J___ speaks over himself momentarily, to remark upon something going on in the background, here, presently on Television, a Film. Dude! have you ever listened to “The Doors” (the 1960’s american rock band)? I ask for this reason: Understand, Nikolay, I am a simple man, yet rather as a paradox, I suppose the Psych_______ suggests, I am a complicated individual. I wish not for you to perceive me in an egocentric manner; I wish that you might better read, with better understanding, both who and what I a attempt at communicating. To lead a simple life, I am satisfied. I never wanted to be a “rockstar”, for example. I never wished for riches; to be excessive with wealth.

Friend, at heart, I am a musician; I enjoy to play the guitar, with a band or individually. Secondary to that, I enjoy to engage in creativity, creative activity (such as writing). This likely explains why I write verbose text. I enjoy the process of communication, whereas other individuals enjoy the concise communication, I indulge myself in it. It consumes very much of my time, but it is me. To engage in other things, I am unhappy. As the course of life descended upon me, however with wrath for my excessive behavior … < SNIP > … and loose women, and I had the excess money to further such activity, until … < SNIP > I am ultimately bored… < SNIP > … etc. I am bound by circumstance.

But, back to “The Doors”. Nikolay, I do not find television a viable entertainment, yet I began by writing of Television in the background, as i write you. Why? Because… wait… however, I do enjoy the American “Cartoon Network” nightly broadcast known as Adult Swim. In cartoon, animation, anything without modern actors from Los Angeles, CA / Hollywood. I dislike “the beautiful people” for what they are forced to represent. I dislike most modern Film and Television for the same representations, propaganda, commercialism, beauty worship, etc. I dislike the dishonesty of it, and so I enjoy an alternative in cartoons, comedic animation for adult people not for children.).

Presently, it is daytime, during the day, so “Adult Swim” is not broadcast. During daylight hours, it is “Cartoon Network”, a children programming broadcast, more or less, yet some of it is nevertheless enjoyable also. However, it bored me today, Saturday being more so childish programming, it seems. Holy hell– I needed to escape the childish cartoons! but there is nothing on the 3.14159 channels broadcast by Comcast Cable Co. (Comcast: a huge media corporation which likely owns much of the network through which we communicate).

I located a DVD media containing various films, “The Simpsons” TV Episodes, and to my surprise, presently, “The Doors”, a film documentary. Please accept my apology for so much text in this explanation! I intend to translate this with Google to Russian, so I hope you are able to make more sense of it, and perhaps be somehow entertained, as is my wish. NOTE: PLEASE inform me if i should, or should not do so in future correspondence, with the Russian translation. Today, I have sent both texts, for your private use in bilingual education, not to belabor my text. I enjoy to do so, but also based on whether you might benefit from what I am trying to say, if i first translate it (using Google) to Russian text. If this is true, then I enjoy the effort. Otherwise; conversely, if you find no enjoyment, or no benefit in it, I will not further attempt this sort of Russian translation. To do something for others, I am pleased. I must remark, I do not feel I am somehow paying you for your kind gesture, in giving me license to use your software. I believe there is something understood by such exchange, where each of us knows there is some equal benefit by transaction.

All this text for what? Because “The Doors” film was on my television, not now as much time has passed, but at that moment– the intensity of their performance inspired me to mention it. Certainly, Jim Morrison was quite the extraordinary individual. Perhaps that is why I decided to mention it– because of the way he lived, his personality, a bit like me, as the person I used to be, full of youth and power and vigor, and alcohol! And, as it performed on the television, in the background, a smile came upon my face. I was reminded of the euphoria of musical performance, to be a performer, on the stage, in front of an audience. In that manner, Jim Morrison was quite outstanding. Viewing this retrospective, in context of his generation, I thought to myself. “Oh, man, what a wild one he was!”. It was that very thought– which inspired, and resulted in this whole goddam ramble over nothing– and I’ve never even been that much of a Jim Morrison fanatic, or “The Doors” moreover. But, this early “The Doors” performance (portrayed in the aforementioned film); in [his] raw expression, creativity, and blatant disregard for conventional standards in performance. Etc.

Nikolay, I sure can talk, can I not. I can talk all day, about nothing, it seems. … Oh well. This, for I thought you might enjoy it. I write for myself, as much as I write for you. Do not wonder over this purpose. A few hours have passed in the day. I am pleased by that. If reading this lengthy text is burdening to you, I am sorry. I believe you are preoccupied in matters of software development, and family life. I do not wish to impose myself upon you. Imagine me as a breeze of air, blowing through your window, which momentarily pleased you without reason, and a happy thought came upon your mind. There was nothing to it, but for a moment, you were pleased to be alive, to enjoy the things of life, such as a pleasant breeze of air. That is my purpose here, maybe, I wish to believe. Indeed, I exist in a fantasy world.

Best wishes,
__

[ All this, Fiction, for your entertainment, ] if you haven’t noticed [by now], i’m bored with this …^† until then i disregard your pain, for mine, selfish ass i beesnesthead, concern myself more ’bout ma own these days, sukka! but don’t feel bad. i have someone to blame … blamin’ be sa easy, yo– and till the last bit-o-breath floweth ‘tween ma nose-holes dere, dirt-nappin-like, dat bitch …!

Pardon moi, did i offend you? Didn’t mean to. I’m just teeter’in, dat’s all. teeterin’ lika chair ’bouta fall right over, ya know? Problay needsa be locked up, i’d say. for chrissake, dey know it– but somehow– i’s breathe me some free air ‘nutha day. in yo face, Man! uh-huh, take dat, Johnny Law, and your half-ass’d pshychiatrist-sidekick dey sends witcha, goddam Community College … kinda-guy, seemed like. what do i know. i know one thing. i know how i scum

^† ’cause Lord knows I’s crazy as a shithouse rat– what, wit all dem wildass drugs i dun smoked, popped, snorted, inserted, disolved, and evacuated out magoddamn colon all dem yeerz ago. holy crap! but at leas i’s knows betta dees days. deez days, my docta write its on him paddy pad thingy, all this whack scribbly writin’, and goddam if they dont give me all dis shit when i rap at one of dem dumbass pharma-chicks be workin’ all deez pill joints, dig? i mean– awwfuckit– aint even woth much more mention, but you know. you know who i mean, dontcha? yeah, you know how dey scum. what’s worser even, dey think dey even know some’n. dumbass pharma-chicks, i tell you what. but, once i get da simplist info-ma-shun tru dat head-there, dey usualee come ’round, and i’s gets ma shit aint too much truble i spose. huh?

I am surprised by my own excitement to muster a proper salutation, as I wonder how I might most readily turn your imagination toward my immediate, yet developing fascination with what I perceive of [it]. I recognize in the cyclical, independent / interdependent nature of [its “components”], or [that is], the individual [parts] ; your model. I might best describe it as– at once, a fantastic, vivid understanding between such multidisciplinary men, (which I mean boldly as I write to yeild in You what visceral sensation I might by the power in these meager words) — maintaining yet a single-mindedness, not conversely or to be forcibly persuasive, that such cohesive vision renders a magnanimous ingenuity. I am reminded of the cardinal schemes my peers and I did construct, I believe were likewise flowing. Ostracized for “Gifted” stigmata, then far more fortunate for the fellowship we made, we dreamed of efforts to end Cold War. Somehow– as I am reminded by this glimpse into the brainstorm of ____, this moment i lapse in retrospection, I fondly recall the uncommon beauty, and unstoppable force– from the several individuals, the magical synergy between them, at marked points in a continuing progression, manifests in a cohesive, flowing, collective creativity, the rare likes of which, whether serendipitously or deliberately, have changed the world nevertheless.

Can I put my feet out while it’s moving? (As if the pilot in the film Contact, with J. Foster)
You know how it is: sh*t moving all over, out of focus, holding the right-eye in desparation to be on-target, without making the eyes pop-out, or everything– at least– is blurred, and not as I wish.

I guess it’s just auto-pilot so much of the time, and I knew I was f*cking-up just now, but– rather than delay the entire text, I figured it would really cave-in, and this bastard would wake. It’s too f*ckin’ bright out. { … I remember Martha: not as sweet, but breaks out. Don’t know– some kind of trouble, I guess. F*ckin’ sleep, all f*ckin’ day too. f*ck }

Last month, it was monthly. This month, it’s going to be two-weeks (now, walkin-shoes worn thin, as some memory of Lofstead)

I hope you didn’t blow out that entire chandelier of lifts just now.

What’s hot: stop it!

Of Running Sheep

These aren’t electric

Uneven, steady,
crooked and kind, this.
Freud stoop’d in, blurry-eyed
in time, an infant
sever, ending Never
in beginning
we be damned
echo voices
come behind
the dampening and flutter
quarrels, logo
fell on icey
hell rise on
intangible
what i write
about it thirsty
great big chocolate
nail the vein
inner fluffer
ever present,
rings out reason:
thinnest line.

(Some of these are set to music, as was the aforementioned.)

smear
I feel bad about the fact that I can get some scibble-paper.
A little bit would be okay, and all i need a few lines–
but the fear of losing them / having the :bugged” in some way–
and then, on again to the next thing,
never having finished; not even to think of anything grand coming of Harold.
But that’s not it.
or Is it?

C’omon Sarah, I’ve got other things I need ‘be doing.
Don’t have all this time to jse in, how you say?:____Fe doa.

Goddamn distinguishing

between “default”, and that which is “supposed to be”.
Either, in theory is excpted to work, but of the tree
and then I preview it in my mind–
this whole “Landscape” orientation of images–
like a storyboard– and different characters interact, etc .

I’m going to charge you a “3″, if NoviceNotes doesn’t get it together soon–
you’re getting a “C”.
no, i understand– it’s all reative to the project

[damn having-to-back-track–
again–
lost track…
where was I ?
FUCK!]

It feels good though–
i mean– the only good thing about it,
is that it feels good– like sleeping.
It’s refreshing. and when it’s finally over,
and i’ve gained, and lost so many thoughts on stuff,
non-stuff- virtual nothingness, i —
though longing-for, and therefore, oft’imes
(panzy’s not coming!) “eh… don’t wory abotu him.
we’ll get to him later. “.

Damnit damn opening the eyes. it’s so much easier with them closesed.
opening the eyes is sure to bring on confusion,
and the throbbin, dull, but ominous pain of forcing itself in,
gaining control, as I proportionally, lose my own.
and that is so very disheartening- so frustrating– so maddening.
should I continue?
what point?
is there pleasure in it? is there purpose; a practical function? that sucks.

once in a while,
a really great idea comes to mind– but it’s always lost.
and what you, Head ?
through past script queries– accessibility…
oh– shit, and then, there’s the damn “Upstairs”
(eyes open now) noise [i.e. Upstairs-Noise]
for all automatic complete-letion of that-houghts / variables —
sometimes good– more often bad– and would me l–
temploate– very important– the proper template,
so much can be affect… ban the un-trustworthy, and make it into a baloon,
now it up, and mail it to the Sun.

no .
all too much time-consuming–
too much for time
(i would NEVER believe her. never. “never trust a junkie”, and she’s just the same…)
i’ll have to try it somewhere-else. the Valkyries
(Lord of the Val… shit… another interjection. damnit. trying to match words in my head.)
random (i think), and unrelated to this….

look– she’s dying. she needs some sleep!. she’s not right.
version 8. not right. needing sleep. — oh yeah, taking One dssssss–
interesting: I spoke to my wallet and, ba… too far gone.
save file, or lose it.
bye bye.