Nov 2003 

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More from Bugsy

A seven point dream.

Switch up the frosting.

An impulse/burst of life.

A light citrus marinade.

I'm not going to write about what i did today, i did this, then that, bla bla bla. other people can record that. but i'm the only person that can record my feelings, my thrivings, my longings. and that's what i'm going to write about.

Out like a rock in the lake.

Why grr when you can rawr.

Raspberry shortcake in my pants.

Sweet ninja of the nasty.

Lunar eclipse, woohoo.

Don't make me get all lunar up on you.

To be me, to see me, now and forever on.

The lilacs of mary in an autumn dream of recollection.

Subliminal bliss.

Trying to do what i can with the day.

Fruits come in all shapes, sizes, and colors.

Tales from the cript, oops, i mean pie.

This just isn't.

I don't care what words my tongue rolls, i don't care what path my feet stroll.

The greatest part about cheese is when your teeth sink into it and you can hear the cheese scream.

Tally 'em up boys.

Sleep the good dream and wake the good...huh, sphincter says so, as do the billy bobs.

I could go for some more h2o.

The streak ends at a score of 30-23, and as i predicted a 14 point defeat 28-14.

While the sun is rising.

A single rainbow cloud.

Kick some toe.

There is no appropriate journal. no appropriate words. no appropriate picture. just one appropriate person. my dear friend bob who sits in jail. i pray for him. and i received a letter from him. his small cartoons. and in the middle of the second page a detailed drawing of christ with a thorned wreath on his head and tears rolling from his eyes as if he was frowning on bob's actions. and on the sides bob said he was repenting a lot. as always a level of deep insight that goes unheard and uncredited. well, my friend, i'm listening. one of the finest.

Kickin' it like a fetus in it's mother's womb.

Counting the inches.

For my best friend and all the prayers.

Give me a w.

Give me an a.

Give me an r.

Give me a r-a-w-r.

Because bugsy's back in town.

After eight months i can find a little serenity, a litte peace, at home where all is familiar. amen on this thanksgiving.

I don't know where i'm going, but i'm sure the hell getting there fast.

Those kids of mayhem.

Chasing the van.