JamesPatrick's profile

                "Damn this horrendous plague of gloom! Everywhere it strikes with bestial swiftness and fury. Where-after its wounds lay in festering malignancy until I can bear no more, and am left with little option but crude surgery of the flesh. but still, always it remains at my back and thus driving me forwards to miserable end. I have no recourse but isolation in both drink and social refusals.       ...

It was dark-- 3:30 on urban streets wet with urine-- 7th especially, as it lays suffocated by vacant ruins. I saw him walking towards me-- a question slurred in Spanish, then he sucked his dirty thumb and through my pants, grabbed my penis. I laughed it off and rushed to 7-11 (the only lit neon in the sky), but I was terrified and cry about it sometimes. Later that night I saw him ,on Broadway, splattering his puke into the gutter.

On August 15, 1924, Elizabeth Ashbrook, sitting on the parlor windowsill, watched a well dressed postal courier park his bike at the family's expansive estate's gate and remove a brown paper parcel. Elizabeth saw that he was young, perhaps a few years older than her, 24 she would decide later. His face would be pink with excursion, she imagined, his teeth white and a bit uneven--though not enough to make him unattractive-- and his hair would be brown like her brother's, though not so juvenil...

I never told a lie, and my teeth were always on the fly. With eight years in office, I left with only oatmeal and denture supplies.

From Dublin to Zurich, quickly now, Paris! Barbarism follows and lights the world on fire.