Justice of the peace in the morning. Couch in the afternoon. The best day at home: containment without control

 

Love language: the plumber came.

 

10 days and still no plumber/money run or macro fail dilemas?

 

He robbed me/ reverting back to the path/slipping my skin moorings

It had all seized up, the rough- said parts, where she had caved. Was it in ? Or under? she wasn't sure, except to say that things had slid, and now the head marooned, sat stiffly like some mute siren-shriek, atop a pole. Mournful on the rocks, dragged in by the tides and the unsafe modesty below. These were the places where she suffered openly, but in secret, behind a line, in degrees that separated from reason. Nursing her tomb, the underling; neglected and rejected in full parts. The soft placed power of the old ways. Full of rightness, but dangerously hemmed in. Except now the tide had caught, and new currents break, somehow no longer confounded by the past. And within these, there comes a candour- a willingness to right the line. To break lose of all the twists and turns; and again do that dangerous thing:  Become a full bodied woman rising. MB

Last word in no hot water.

 

I walked home for an hour, under irritation and stars #pedro's party

 

Cecil skotnes

Still pissed at Donners.

The  boundaries goul.

He liked to watch behind the light, beyond the curtain

He like to touch, disturb, small spaces, closed eyes, soft bodies, that were nto his. 

He liked to feel behind the line in all things done in darkness,. hard, and rotten things, beyond the breakings that should nto be seen. 

He liked the hard horror, of the war, that fled in pieces. The whole body desecrations. Obliterations. Abominations. The obscene.

So much so that he liked to touch, in secret, and in public, private places, like a ghoul who slid, in to others'  folds that were not his/unseen. MB

The bored brains,and escaping the divine holy let-down slags

 what is my next step

The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from The Gentle Grafter by O. Henry: dollars for the animal.' "'Jeff,' says this pork esthete, 'it ain't money; it's sentiment with me.' "'Seven hundred,' says I. "'Make it eight hundred,' says Rufe, 'and I'll crush the sentiment out of my heart.' "I went under my clothes for my money-belt, and counted him out forty twenty-dollar gold certificates. "'I'll just take him into my own room,' says I, 'and lock him up till after breakfast.' "I took the pig by the hind leg. He turned on a squeal like the steam