am i crazzy – ?

yes.

manic, more. yes. yes. not lithium. dep o cote. i don’t have time for fuck you, goodbyes. and i think that being very smart and even very very smart mouthed, in the end, immediately etches that fucking deja of that matrix vu glitch onto the Left/right brain of my brain. period. fuck the m’s and the j’s and the justin timberlake cd that flew out my window and the arley to the davidson’s and betty ford clinic? yes. l-ayme. shame on the N words of the manfattanite areas always, always. why? there’s witch hunting in bali. so don’t go there. karun tole me that after 9/11 two summers ago at that fucking beer fat loser barn in soho, yes around the corner from vice’s store. kenmare and something something, spring street. fuck you losers anyhow. i made those faulkers think i was on meth when i jibber jabbered my mouth off and anti pissed and creped and dropped thumbtacks on all the private property parking lots in bakers fucking loser field pretty darn southern [border]ered but whatever, man. manyanas. MAN-yaw-nuh. now after 72 hours of a fucking hold after being arrested for rolling down sea scape sand dunes looking at LAX skies and anty being just, chill or something, lying on a fucking curb in the street. i got myself arrested, two days in a row. HA! for what? fo shizzle mee nizzle. and only as i write it now i realise. i was hilariously scarily, hilarious. only the celebrity potential things are the funniest ’cause only the smut peds win. all other things are put on hold. hi mike D, the west coast. we’s got the k double u ones dood. amateurly watching you back. yup. say hi to che with that accent a fucking gu’ed to his coke fucking nigger nose. and all them tinier overpaid letter M’s. c to the k to u to F mmmmmm cack.

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