NUTSO—a swing at a whiffle ball, with the batter standing tall, yeah, me, and listening to rap music, swinging the baseball bat!

"NUTSO" and not so fantastic, the static and steering clear of nutter butter kind of cookies, and textual tomfoolery, seen as such, coming with so much, that interesting piqued sense, an oncoming pre-tense of weights lifting lifted heavy as 235 lbs. for me, years ago we did see, the sensible awareness of what but bigger biceps equals better for classy stout the “standing” elongated 3.5” with protein-peptides, oh me, oh my, the WSU coach despised, didn’t know what to do or say, hot in the gym springs and summers visited, the A/C electricity switch set to a new low, immediately in the front of the vents, established as a connesiure of cardio—what what YO ???

Disco Black Lingo

Time to vanish, so and so outlandish to erase one’s computer at a work-held mess, in the meetings, singing something with spreadsheets unused—and lost forever if not at it with the forensics of files, reclaimed, some pristine pornography pics, all of the “O”-gasm sorts, and profits incoming situated at Knox—the Fort—“Fort Knox” helding and smelling a stupid mis-spelling, the stink I’m thinking I should leave with shit up my sleeve, when wacky and bereaved of my Allyson, not looking to further research her life—but a little curious!—that fat hootie who? Ally, you know? Now you do with that July 26, 1983, greedily inept of NEVER ANY big birthday “being lowing” cheer—I THINK NOT!—oh, but the weight-gain !!!!!