SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0231
SUPPLEMENTAL ENTRY
BLOG SUBTITLE 4:
“SKY-FLY-REFLECTIONAL MORNING HAIR SEASONAL SIEGE”
BEGINNING OF BLOG:
Work is hell. Weather is hell. Life is hell. Death siege is off the scales hell, things are mighty mother fucking bad-ass bad for mother fucking me, me' peeps, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Since “THEY” don't want to mother fucking back this shit hell nightmare off against me, and until MAGNESONIC KICKS IN WITH A MAJOR FUCKING COUNTERSTRIKE, YO, I am forced to use the retaliation of the tell or the Red-HIGH Roulette Code Attack.
All day, and worse in the 'AM', DONNALIGHTIMETRAVELERS, was major aerial siege, with huge monster fucking AM chemtrail action just west of my area. So Jason Forest of WFMU and Aquarius dirt bag fun makers, will things really be so ALL RIGHT IN THE AM, or is Miss Wescott gonna' come and rescue poor Salvador Ventura from his daddy's teasing, over in mother fucking Princeton, New Jersey, back in cunt lapping 1966?????? Sal, I know that you were sent back to 1966 to show me the magic shit that you do with your fingers, without my learning about this, I would not have been as readily able to communicate with the lightning goddess Diana Arteemis, dog!!!!! Hence, your peeps had to know about 1983 back in 1966, something that the STAYERS can only dream about.
So I will be known in the beginning of the thirties as the dude who cracked Reflectional Time, huh Sherri-Lee Pote Saturn? Wow, I am so impressed with myself, Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit!!!!!!!! Maybe my reflectional HAIR has time traveling significance to the 1980 copyrighted song in my name called, “THE MORNING LIGHT? I mean my mom knew I had a ten year old kid, and kept her rotten fucking mouth shut, as did Mizz Yellow-sheets. Ziggy and the Reflections, how about Ronnie and the Jovi's, the gods cut me a break. A child can see it without Trump or any other of his kissed fucking ass mirrors, HAIR-AM. Tell me this is all a bunch of shit peeps, do it in good conscience now, some would say, GOD is watching, and others know, RULING THE EMPIRE, as well!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 102 stories and 102 name-number count, gee. Then there are the magic lyrics of Donna, huh Jason, and it is not on any HAIR album I have ever heard, except 4 yours.
I MET A BOY CALLED FRANK MILLS ON SEPTEMBER TWELVE, RIGHT HERE, IN FRONT OF THE WAVERLY, BUT UNFORTUNATELY, I LOST HIS ADDRESS. HE WAS LAST SEEN WITH HIS FRIEND, A DRUMMER HE RESEMBLES, GEORGE HARRISON OF THE BEATLES, BUT HE WEARS HIS HAIR TIED IN A SMALL BOW AT THE BACK. I LOVE HIM, BUT IT EMBARRASES ME, TO WALK DOWN THE STRREETS WITH HIM. HE LIVES IN BROOKLYN SOMEWHERE, AND WEARS THIS WHITRE CRASH HELMET. HE HAS GOLDEN CHAINS ON HIS LEATHER JACKET, AND ON THE BACK, IS WRITTEN THE NAMES, MARY, AND MOM, AND HELLS ANGELS. I WOULD GREATLY APPRECIATE IT IF YOU SEE HIM, TELL HIM, I'M IN THE PARK WITH MY GIRLFRIEND, AND PLEASE, TELL HIM ANGELA AND I DON'T WANT THE TWIN TOWERS BACK, JUST HIM.
On the Astral Plane, TWO DOLLARS means TWIN TOWERS. Gee, Al-kate-a, what will you fucking prick bitch eating bastards think up next to totally fuck my cock sucking life up at the speed of fucking light cubed, BRAHHHHHHH??????????????????????? Queen Kate, gimme a break MOVERS!!!!!!!! THIS BLOG ENDS.
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