Is the Pilot in the Plane?

I am upset a little bit at 8:38 AM, and it is Tuesday.  In this instance of becoming upset, I have chosen to harbor great resentment at the writing of Jimmy Breslin.  He said that most people who accompany criminals on crimes are not good writers; that the story doesn’t get out.  But, that Damon Runyon was the exception.  That’s because it is in a book about Damon Runyon that he says that.  He says that most of these people couldn’t write a travel brochure.

I don’t like that.  I don’t like it because I do not consider writers as free to take liberties with whatever it is they are writing about.  They better shut up.  Any reader is a writer.  You just turn around and continue the thing you are reading.  After all, you are thinking.  It’s all the same, seamless.  It is of a piece, read, react, think, to write.

But, that’s okay.  I am a criminal.  That’s what we are today since they made walking down the street illegal.

I would like a methamphetamine laboratory; I have owned methamphetamine laboratories.  I have set them up and run reactions and derived product.  I did not ask some shithead if I could watch while he tortured somebody.  To these cocksucking Irish in New York, there is no crime like murder, and murder is the cream you scrape off of crime.  Of course, the fact they are faggots does not come out.  They keep it quiet.  They keep it on the down-low.  But, if you meet one in person, the first thing he is going to do is drop his drawers and turn around and spread his butt cheeks and ask do you want to hit that.

My daughter is named after a character in a Damon Runyon short story, Broadway Financier, I believe it is called.  She is not named right after it.  She has two given names.  It is the second, Silk. Yeah, it is a code.  Me writing without contractions is a code.  Me writing in the first-person present tense is a code.  That is how Runyon writes.

Why I write coded language is the same reason many people write irony or sarcasm: our normal speech is repressed.

If you write about prohibited activities, you can leave it to the imagination.  It is funnier that way.  You can ask the reader to place himself in the position of the criminal.  It is very popular escapist literature.

I have been entertaining the notion of cooking with P2P lately, but that is only historical.  Nobody should clandestinely make dope with that.  It will fail on the secrecy.  It smells too much.  I don’t know.  Maybe you have a thousand square miles of desert.

P.G. Wodehouse is an English writer writing in English, and the English is awesome because of it.  I do not know why travel brochures are the sine qua non of good writing for American audiences.

I am going to look up Jimmy Breslin now.  I hope he is dead.

Nah.  Ain’t.

P.G. Wodehouse (“Woe-house”)

Damon Runyon

I know who’s dead: Mike Royko.  But, he doesn’t bug me like Breslin does, so, I don’t know what is going on with the encoding about life following art, or some measure of justice in this life, or some kind of happiness I could derive out of the alignment of reality with my wishes.

My stupid brother thinks he writes, too.  It doesn’t even matter!  Writing is lying.  Betrayal and treachery take lives unnecessarily.  Don’t make me kill you.  What, do you want me to put Mark Twain in here?  Naw, Damon Runyon was a cigarette smoker, see? That’s all you need to know about his appearance.  I have accompanied cigarette smokers, and I can write eloquently about their inability to breathe.  Put up the video of the removal of their cancerous lung.  But stop it any time.  But it is fascinating, scientifically.

First of all, this guy writes using the title, AMUCK.  Boo we don’t do dat.  We give the reader the spelling so he can tell a Jew is a Jew, a Mexican is a Spaniard, not just stinks like salsa and beans and has dark hair honestly.  Amok is some South Seas shit.

My title today is depending upon context.  I can’t hear but a word or two now, and the sum total of most people’s experience hearing voices is not a pamphlet, it’s deaf mute.  On speed I could hear whole sentences.  They are electrical brain signals producing auditory hallucinations, but the sounds merely transfer with comparison to the nearest example which is a word.  The context is looking at planes flying overhead.  If one is on the ground, it is a legitimate question, but flying in the air, the pilot should be somewhere in the plane, ideally flying it.  At this time I heard that, the Exxon Valdez was running aground, so you wonder: what is the impact in history of something like that, ten million gallons of petroleum slopping in the water near the Arctic?  Is that something like the death knell of mankind?  Is it a wake up call?

Where is it on the scale of I am going to rip you a new asshole?  I should not say ‘asshole’ and I have a replacement: Mr. Ashual.  It is almost clean.

Yeah, the Exxon Valdez was running aground because the Captain was too drunk to get out of his room and go upstairs and look, probably figuring what the fuck, I have double vision.  Won’t do any good.

Damon Runyon wrote one story called Miss Dawn Astra, and I think it is code for methylenedioxyamphetamine, MDA.  It might have just come out and somebody turned him on.  I can’t decode the story to find the recipe or any other references to it in there, however.  Any smoker knows he is treading on the dark side and that there is no other drug worse than nicotine, that they are liable to pay in Hell for their willing enslavement, that they are hammering a spot as big as their whole chest.  They are going to lose it.  They need a head transplant to quit.  Besides, until a whole generation is lost there is no shame in the promotion of a fun drug.  It would not be that far-fetched for him to find drug addiction acceptable.  You gotta do something with your hands.

The Beatles had a code.  Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds is really lysergicsaurediethylamide, LSD.

I tried to get smart; now I can’t upload the gallery of these smokin’ smokin’ hot writers.  I’ll have to uncheck the category part.  That aspect of this sort of free writing, the commercialization by means of penetration of databases through categorization, is superfluous.  I don’t believe in  making money off illegal drugs, or even by stopping illegal drugs, by treating users of illegal drugs, or anything.  I don’t even want them legal.  I want the society that burns people as if they were exterminating cockroaches to die in one fell swoop.  I can hear the gates of heaven swinging open for you.  Once you distended deluded keepers of the public morality no longer have the ability to field a gasoline-powered force of truncheon wielding enforcers, we will commence to do what we want to do.  You will go away some day.


I’m glad that they put ‘amuck’ now (it’s really ‘to run amok’, not to be confused with Winnemucca, NV, bt—they’re somehow stored close by in my own brain cells, like the partition between a woman’s rectum and her vagina so that if two guys fuck her, one in the cooze and one in the ass they can feel each other (so here’s one tough problem, is it gay?), …), Jesus jump down!  God, this led to some of the stuff I am interested in, like going postal, and in this case the Phantom Frag.  These war resisters are what led later on to the explosion in drug use in this country.  These were my formative years of why I hate my Dad, of the battle lines, the reckoning.  And these guys were not one of us.  I was way crazier.  How could you join the service?

So this leads to a direct appreciation that Obama is not going to single-handedly stop any war.  That is so politically negligent that you expect him to just do that.  A hundred million of you committing mayhem won’t solve anything, but it’s a start.


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