"d'arriere en avante"
|
may 10
Hysterical self serving religious mania sweeping the pod. How would
one say THAT in French? OOOH LA LA the TERROR. One jackass told Dep. Bill
Wiess loudly that he was an agent du SATIN this morning. Wiess promptly
flushed him away from here and back to either DISCIPLINE or INTAKE.This
got les other Godboys in UPROAR. And les whole afternoon was spent with
an angry Religious undercurrent even whilst we had some New Age Goofball
come in to force US to do les excersizes du breathing,. Okay.
"Je ne me preterai pas a cette manoeuve" -(I shall not be a party to
these tactics.) I'm telling you, you should've seen les look on sour fat
VERN's face. He's been Deputeeing here nigh on a billion years. He was
walking past les module and stopped to gawk for a second as he saw us all
petulantly breathing les IN and les OUT. "What a pity it is"(Que cest domainge)
that sea sickness (mal de mer) didn't over take us one and all, as we rocked
"back and forth"(d'arriere en avante) deep in les bowels du this hideous
ship.
As for me, the gears are not quite GRINDING as they were for so long.
All the live long day I think about getting out soon.
"D'autant plus" (all the more) reason why we should speed along now.
Let us slow down with les notions surreal (par example: I finish my
shower only to find that my clothes have been stolen. And JUST THEN I grow
TWO enormous breasts -les JUGGS are in les shape du the heads of JOHN and
PATSY Ramsey. I am forced to walk naked thru les pod with one of les hideous
teats shrieking "piffle" whilst les autre cacles "flam.")
"Time is UP." Il est l'heure, my sarcastique mortuary dumplings.
I left market and Laguna Street in S.F. never to return, in mid or early
Nov. 96. STOP. If you want to see me putting out the lights to my apartment
and leaving all my belongings behind without a CARE in les monde. FINE.
STOP. But I'd prefer you saw les non-party hat deafening silent TRUTH.
STOP. I walked several miles straight down Market like une zombie. STOP.
Certainly touched by une autre monde. STOP. So uncomfortable. STOP. SICK.
STOP. Even les official and famous bums du San Fransisco dared not stop
me. STOP. ("I'm gonna kill you Cisco": STOP.)
At the watefront I swirled and swooped DULLY into les officina du Amtrac.
STOP. I was already aware that I would meet a bus here which would take
me and les autres to les train that awaited us across les Bay in Emeryville.
STOP. Les large group lined it's luggage up in les parking lot. STOP. I
simply joined les human QUE having nothing to add to les material one.
STOP. Even as I sit in this cell I can SENSE les looks on les faces of
les autres. STOP. I can sense that THEY sensed I was les drudge. STOP.
UNHAPPY. STOP. I was une thing not to see, not if one didn't want one's
celebratory vacation mood impinged upon. STOP. Nopey nope no. STOP. I most
assuredly would have gone via broomstick solo, if ONLY I could. STOP.
SEE IT, PEOPLE. STOP. SEE ITT! STOP. I was as an exhausted Dracula in
une happy crowd. STOP. And it was the same the day before. STOP. I had
chosen a vault in which to be undead. STOP. And to get there I had to take
this wretched journey. STOP.
current
| 1999 | 1998 | colfax diaries |