yesterday I got fucked hard on a street corner by... and then when the election results came through I just couldn't believe it

 I can’t afford to not stay, and well done bra girls with boots up to their astral later came through to the Olde grande tourist and made it clear, friends for life, eh? Said one from Peru. Pouring espresso at Lolitas request bundling up business cards and roses laid back nonchalant in the Clarence for tea after with Johnty. There was a red Merc in the winda, a flower girl in the fulest stride you ever did see and skirts everywhere flying like flags to poor dandy’s who always felt outnumbered. Alienation had come and gone and returned with a brevity that was less flash in pan and more Hey ho Watson. Namby pamby came and went as did Hows yer fther and that biscuit had moved from sweetness of digestive custard and cram to new name for Punani or bread. Bagels were rock solid the morning after even if brought in Brooklyn and the thought of flying again acroos el Atlantico made the gut swirl with the lack of enthusios for the jet lag. On Hotel we came to plum our round and cute added to asses with lardyness and non carus mundo for where we went we always had beer. Down and outs in Mexico who had relocated to new Mexico in order to be nearer the canyon were making new business contacts for their photocopy sellers, and the plot was thickened by Chernobyll later that year as I was there sunning on a beach when the rain came down so I said, well, given that you can’t blame me can you? Somewhere in this the new laws arose up spewing into frothy cups of lava truths that we could feel but not see. Yeah yeah. I sat down with Emerald Eyes reddenerd by Chloe’s indifference to Pete, and the painter mde headway with explanations about Egypt, as if I didn’t know. Now there came a swoosh. Olympids made headlines, so did numerous odd and off the f wall characters called by themselves celebs, and I didn’t see a cook in sight in London not anywhere. Then in Cnneticutt with the lama dn the high kala we undressed mauve clad nuns because they delighted in the tantra of it. Ah you must be a beatnik. Ah you must be an artist. Ah. Sayeth another, how’da get al that money. Time tells and tells all in the end a nd Shelley said it right ways up if only two hundred years later was in advance of time he’d have had sald for breakfast in Salamanders if he was alive now I’d say. The taxi shook and grunted hauling us out into the green and roick of the York bridge, as Merlot and Wells and Bennet passed by fluttering above our necks their old tirades. Secen twons for seven sisters. The headliners were Indecent Frntage and the Price of Haven when Cathy