november 23rd
Sitting in absloute SIZZLING nothingness. THAT is what is unfair. Others
sentenced to Boulder are playing scrabble, recieving
mail, and knowing their OUTDATE with a peaceful certainty. I had to
get into an uproar last night ONCE AGAIN simply to be
able to order stamps ( which SHOULD arrive tomorrow.) When will jails
distinguish between the PRIVELEDGE of ordering
fake, but marked up, HOSTESS products, and the RIGHT to order stamps,
envelopes, and paper? They get confused
because it all comes from the SAME PLACE, an outside commissary contractor.
It need NOT. What is the law?
TRIXIE VAN DARWARKA was EINE corpse I picked up
in Pueblo, Colorado. It was March or April 97 and I believe I
collected her at T.J. Mc Carthy's Funeral Home. What happened next
was my hungover brain did successfully steer the Chevy
Astro of death all the way back to University Hospital in Denver. There
I was villified for my lateness by a female doctor who
REALLY worked at AURORA REGIONAL hospital but who came over to do this
PARTICULAR autopsy. (Exit Colfax
stage left.) I went back to my shabby little dump and plopped back
into bed fully in my suit. About two hours later, as I
expected, my ANGRY snarling boss called to say it was time to go pick
up TRIXIE again. She was done with her
appointment. Please to be removing her to a mortuary out in Brighton,
kind sir! So, back at University as I'm a sliding Trixie
onto the gurney I asked the doctor, "What was the COD?" and when
the doctor did utter her answer I said, "I KNEW IT!"
For continuity and bitterness I'm not going to tell YOU what it was
all about TODAY. Oh, we'll get to it. It SOUNDS nutty.
New Subject: those of you leaving e-mails asking Y I killed JBR at
this late date only PROVE the necessity of the undertaking.
So I'm sitting in the morgue in San Antonio and I'm eating a burger
from STOP N GO, okay? So as I get down towards the
end of this burger, with each bite my fingertips come closer to my
nose, see, so, finally, I get this horrible WHIFF of death and
realize I forgot to wash CORPSEY LORPSEY off my hands. What's left
of the burger makes a perfect arching pitch into the
trash, which would have been full of embalming bottles, make-up filled
papertowels, soiled,cut up clothing, etc.
New Subjects, while I feel a little wiry from coffee.
This is a SANDAL wearing type of jail whereas Boulder was a faux Converse
type of place. Who stepped last in the shoe's
Patsy's gonna get? So very looking forward to writing with the PEN
I was able to order here. Blurrily aware that something is
going on with S. Miles case, but couldn't hear it good. All Thanksgiving
means is more mailing problems, til next week. AND
THEN it may be Gilpin time again. When I get out I'd like to go to
a restaurant and duplicate the order of someone at the next
table except I'd ask the hateress to "give me only half as much, and
make me sizzle in uncertainty as to it's arrival". I think
charging me double would be a good idea too.BANG on the table!! Plate
goes flyin. "Oh, everything's ruined!" Nice as you
saga readers might be, I ask WHERE is it written that I
can't be ENRAGED.
What are the mathematical computations that say I can't get my radio
out of property because Patsy Ramsey murdered her
child? Oh, in relativity it might be the equivalent of a third cousin
twice removed, but it's all in the mix, all right. They're getting
ready for HER... so I got thrown to the boondox (twice removed) and
lost the whole world of music. When it all comes out
you are going to be a cryin dullard. The truth will be as the taste
of lard.
