Giant Waterbears are the Real Boogey Man

this is a work in progress being funded by an author’s grant from the imagination of Bill Purkins

blue paper and red typewriter ribbons and Paul West in the Spring of 1977, this is primarily a minefield clearing exercise, an exorcism of the mind, an apology to John Balaban, sorry for any non-offense but I really did learn a hell of a lot from you and the people who like to read about dead fish don’t even know of your contribution to the unintentional fisheries management and roundabout conservation results of my massive volume of work in the field, bejeezus, I’ve become a one-way tidal boor [sic], a perpetual flood tide of drifting and dreaming on the biggest friggin’ lagoon in the world of its kind and people don’t even know it’s there, like the lingering troll of Rock & Roll, lurking always under the Bridges to Babylon…

gezundheit, george washington’s last nasty head cold reveals the immortality of sneezes, bejeezus


they’re waterbears, larry… all this time… they’re just giant waterbears


and the boogeyman is the boogers and the boogie woogie bugle boy of company B is gabriel, cupid and st. peter paul and mary all rolled up in a mounds candy bar association, the horn blows at midnight, wtf it all makes sense now, JELLO everybody JELLO


live streamed from new york, it’s monday morning 5:42 am and harold is till dead dammit, and that’s just not funny


i, fibonacci, oh i count on you so machii


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