#1) why is everyone not as utterly stoked for this movie as i am | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

perkoform · 6 years

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Opinion Piece:Copyright Issue:

FOREWORD

All my stories are called ‘you gave it away’. As in: you gave away the story line, do you get it? Haha, anyways, and they will be published in volumes with numbers indicating that they are in fact different to each uvahs, just with the same title, is all. So like, ‘you gave it away: vol. I’, ‘you gave it away vol. II’, etcetera. That’s the full pronounced etc., not the shortening. All my best sellers start with this title. All of them, oh yes. Hm hm. But don’t worry! I know what the public need in a good read, do you know what I mean, I mean, a good literary hook line sinker. Thrills. Spills. Also detailed explanations just for the prying eye to get every gory little cunt of a detail, strangle the last drop a juice outta there and make up rounds of hot steaming gossip served up on a stainless steel tray with little walls to keep one meal separate from the other. Oh yes, we keep that separation when we give it all away, like the ending and the climax, ha ha oh yeah…so, don’t. worry. I gave my editor a bow and arrow with a rope tied to the end one day to batten down best seller, cannot let giant escape. Must feed best seller many pigs and barrels of wine, for its gargantuan size proportion, sustenance and pleasure.

Bigger people have more blood in their bodies and the rotary pump fookin’ poomps weigh harderr too (heard in Scottish). It pumps over fields a kind of real-estate-agent n’ all them fields may grow. In this film clip I saw about man who had laid down on a beach and afterward cut out his heart. In this movie I saw where these people darnced around an bon fire then cut out mans’ heart and threw it in that fire and when sacrifice-man tried to call the cops they rock up and simply join in too. Morbid. In this song I heard about Hannibal Lecter, and this other one about ST. Martens College, he doesn’t know why but he started it somewhere, I think he gave it away. For a best seller. Damn capitalist. Hm hm. Anywho, do you like to party? Oh thank god the relief. A bit and above board, li’, well ajoosted an sooch (kind of English accentuation). Those nice guys who squat about tigers. When I take drugs they’re legal in my immediate consciousness, but the one less accessible consciousness of my mind must dabble only in prescription. Heh, do you get what I mean? Where do choice come from, is it same place as baby? Is it same place as glitter? Is it maybe same place as dog medication? Who knows. Msg me. 04 fuck sakes 789. 989 is the extension (of perfect friendship and harmonious incorporation). Do you get it?

The small man screamed, “I’ll leave you in HELL!!”

The big man whispers, and keeps you small.

You say, “ugh, effeminate!”

No I say it but with a different tone.

I am a…puppet. I am a…monster-mash. I am a…know what to say, gets a ‘very pleasing’ in reaction. I am a…1-2-3. I am a…quick be me! I am a…dabbler only in subconscious prescription. That’s right batter up, prescribe, next one in line, come one come all, one by one (eventually…).

Download as e-book, subscribe, fuck right off? You know, any…

This whole thing about human interaction is definitely “similar to predictive text”, I mean that’ll probably do hey. Like once I get to know you and everyfing…so like we’re just robots that kind of assume shit and are correct like 80? Percent of the time? Yeah? Yeah that’s so the Amedeo Path, pfft. I guess it depends how well you know some other guys’ reactions, your friends’ (reactions) I mean. Minimalism is go-wing two clean up this shit, and so is comedy made by Jewish (looking?) Americans, and also…I don’t know any writers…PLATO, yes, Plato will clean this up. This Nietzschery, like, stream of consciousness vomit nightmare like that is like, giving you a weird anxiety that seems to like, lie in the muds around here as well, though… unless you don’t feel that way, phew. Un-de-tectable hm hm…wink. It’s because of the heart cutting-outing cult mentioning thing. Awful.

I stop, I think, haha I do reeeeaaallly come on, I stop and think…REALLY! Heh reeeeeally…I found a piece of tyre on the side off the road from a big truck that…popped its tyre and so there were little bits of it left about the road…side. I got my foot stuck in a fence. I wasn’t fence sitting, my foot was stuck, had every intention of climbing right over, and everything. oh yes, right over to the ‘other side’ whoa…where grassy around around around, so much greener. Oh my god the worst thing in the fucking world happened to my housemate AGAAAAAIIIIN, OH NoooOOOO. That’s how I swear when I break an actual leg or like, lose millions in shares, not a spoonful of sugar…quen? Holy fuck the ridicule like stares back out at you from like where it is, staring, back at you…

You have less than 50MB left…I never read the rest of the sentence. I want to make up the rest of the sentence, it goes – on your credit account with Vodafone. Do you need money at the start of the week yet get paid at the end?

MAIN STORY

I went walking along the side of, then I found, and when I got there you’d never believe the size of the thing. So I was halfway across a bridge in town near a coffee shop on a hill with a view of a bridge and there was water underneath it. And so, I went strolling along the water there. I was over and under and over and under. All around my eyes followed on with the rivulets and the water flashed and trickled by the moonlight in the dark dark night near the house gate. Someone went on past me and ahead of myself, and they were walking quite quickly and I could not catch up unless by jogging rather briskly, and what long legs they had like they were ten feet tall, towering above me like a tree shadow, wobbly and faint. They turn a corner and no, not any longer.

Waiting a while. Bang bang. Rise flames.

Onward onward, when there was a hoot and a wing and a star. A fog rose and in I went, out from the cold into a place. (flaming tinkle). Bar at 9:30pm. Nineteen-eighties box television, heavy grey brown colour. (brown corn). Very fuzzy reception in the lobby for the waiting people to watch. Americans are good people. The folk in the village are good good.

I have no booking. Make one. Nearly home from about here. Still wondered why and got no response because the other guy thought it was okay and all the rest, if you know what he meant, to say to you when he saw you last time around. Never mind bother. Don’t. So up there on the stairs over through the carpeted hall where the key fits the right door and my head hit that ol’ pillow, nothing more said, it’s a done deal with a smile.

My father was always the early riser, heh heh, in the family. Awful stuff it was, sickly green muck, glop of some description, and it was definitely…oh my god is it dead? Ohh…it’s dead…outside is nice I thought today. Outside of this head mess! Get out banish bequeath, scatter, go! Around and around the chu-chu train for my pleasure was coming for me, I’m scared of. Not long now but that was just when and they were so delighted to find out and moon and sun and huff huff huff. Hello, they all said, utterly stoked. Laughter. In disbelief, took off his hat to his heart and so sincere a nicely man. Back I am at home in my cradle of memorial liveliness, with the souvenir I put on your shelf that had some space, atop of it. Oh you, there. Love. love.

The welcome mat, the doggy lil’ barking, Stolen. Bunt. Scone. Bread. Pancake. Jam drop ha ha ha oh yes mother fed me up. Big cuppa tea and my ol’ gurl who we love dearest always is where the heart is time to go fishing ,a spot of it. Off he went. Over the bridge, past one in every town (couldn’t get away quick enough little legs swollen swelt puffing, hanky, oh sir may I? Not). Everyone Isme. In Isme’s eyes. up and down and up and ohp, up there bit my pinky, it was fun for the whole family sunset.

Next day: long forgotten.

And the next day: to forget.

I still remember how to. Been a while, but I can remember, now. I spent so much of the time, doing it and all that time I have not forgotten yet, and tomorrow, to work, to make. And that is, this is the life. Hum de day, the life.

What about the time? That’s age old there, let ‘value’ have its way with you, making children humble and installed in all the hearts and minds you can get up to with a big stick and scream Pinata Pinata!

So I have this the work to do, the food in the ol’ bel’, but what about when did it last time on the news on the T.V. or at the homemakers centre? What year are we speaking with? Where is the day is it? Who? Flashing television drone I don’t know why this is happening. Pang so hard to fight it! Zap. Zap. Someone kill the button and get away from it! Snooze.

Getting to, it all came to a head one day when I found out by the familys’ friendly lawyer that the advertisement jingle was actually a 1920s show tune you’d bother with dead. I came up with that how did they fall on the same day? was I blanking a horrible panging memory back from, I demand a genius grant.(?) Prove it they said to the mystics, anyway.

The story is written that I exactly majicked the, very same tune in my own little head. So what would compel you to blimming, rip me off?! He said from his grave he enquires by channelling the lawyer in an office-style séance?! I never heard it before in me life. I swore. Who has the rights to this equipment, like the skills or the interest in investing, let’s take her for a spin. Jingling keys, ya know…and so I say, I don’t know sir why, I blimming ripped you off okay! A dabbler with no real musical talent or like that is something obscure. Like, so obscure, I couldn’t believe my very ears and sorry, which Dutch master wrote that? La la la buy – a – roasted – cock – from – joe’s cock – shop - la la la. Sounds just like it, a real chip off the ol’ jinglin’ block. Heh. But anyways I must’ve heard it, somewhere, definitely as a child. Would’ve got away with it. Plagiarism can not be sailin’ me away like hog in fat house. I whisper to you, “they tell me I’m crazy in about three seconds, three, two…”

“We’ll just get the right to the song and um, it’s like a reference.” Said the lawyer, “oh no, she’s dead, you killed her, they know…”

Ol’ Maud would have it, see, she’s families with the old Dutch Master ghost and she’ll put me out of work but in her Will. Score. I studied and have a music degree today, every day, really. Well when the gun went off I forgot. Heh. That’s what I remembered reading in the headlines and like the idea is that there’s a fetish and some thing about like, sound vibrations and humberts’ painful memories. All the rest, I shot her in her home on a Tuesday, in the sunshine while the house burnt down as I sputter some tear water and bite my lip and wring my hands like a good New Yorker Jew (not affiliated). Piñata Piñata! Ha ha this time, quietly…now I’m fit to marry. Said the Sir, who took me on my day trip from street to home van back down the rabbit hole. That’s where they put the trash can for faulty this and faulty that and it’s never really good fuckin’ enough fuckin’ is it?! Mutha fuckor.

But I can’t remember where I heard that, again when the scientists might want to know that. The first step is admitting that. Okay. Yeah, tell us how they found out you did killed ol’ glutton-for-royalties-Maud. I mean (I woke up like this) it’s flawless to the lie-detector anyways.

What I’m trying to say is ‘the fires of hell aren’t hot-hot-hot enough, to burn Maud’s skull till nothing’s left a ha’, to burn-that bullet hole, so, I was caught and arrested yah’, oh sing it with me. I suck at this, nice place the loony bin. Food water bedding, flash-television washing cars away, down live-stream.

It’s so pathetic story, it’s just about dodgey un-well-thought-out murder fraud, written all hweird (hwhiskey). It reminds me of guy who kill Peter Parker’s uncle’s life story or something. No one cares or goes that in depth into those character’s lives dude. Sub-psycho reptilian over fiend who’ll escape jail by opening an alternative plane of reality with crystal that play jingle on radio (while you escape, it’s a short walk) if you stick crystal in a lemon or however. And one day…he’ll resurrect Maud who has the knowledge of the sacred jingle songh, and is the key for the final throe. What about Dutch Master, has no problem with women after all. “Hey the reptilian totally mocked the human raaaaace…” ( I said that in slow motion, like, my voice sounded deeper heh)

Making me sound smart and funny and fresh, is how these medications work on yo system. They work and work like miners in a mine, mining. Through the brain cell around the memory of the jingles shape in my brain and the gun fire and the heart disease tablets are also very good indeed for my health. Well-being is most important, around, around, around, and rest. Nice and grassy, tall fence. The doctors wiping off sweat from brow, riled up, had altercation, but he’s okay now. Prescribed for me something…I can’t feel my face. Snooze.

I remembered today, I wrote it in pen on the poster with flower drawings and felt happy, do you?

Like staringat black.macks oueew forrgett

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