Berlin. A few clicks passed the witching hour . . . Skip out on the nightmare -- Way too many TEETH in that grim fandango beyond the wall of sleep for comfort.
A smoke burning. Tea. Unsweetened. No ice.
Finished the edits [short/quick/one a spelling error] on "When A Sigh Visits Skin" . Feels done, but I never know . . . Maybe down the line a reader [or an editor] will let me know?
Puttering w/ "Movietime . . ." -- Made up another batch of fake film titles. Vampireville Gangsterama, Vampire Honeymoon On Planet Alamo, Dr. Funkenstein’s Extraterrestrial Surf Party [I hope George Clinton will forgive my tip of the hat], Necronomicomedy . . . I think I like VHoPA. Half a chuckle for Necronomicomedy, but then I'm tired . . . We'll see after I sleep and eyeball them again.
So, where was I? Black Lagoon Bubba VII, Zombie Scarecrow Geisha-Cheerleaders VS. The Robovampire Assassins . . . YIKES! Somebody please sell me a few Zzzzzzzzzzzzz's.
More tea. Another smoke . . . Can't get Dave Alvin's "30 Dollar Room" outta of my head. Thank god, it's a great tune. Hate it when some dreck I can't stands get stuck there . . .
Berlin. A city of 3.4 million people and it's quiet as hell . . . Except in this cauldron I call a brain . . .
I'm taking a Greyhound on the Styx river line . . . I'm in a noirish state of mind . . . It's a stagecoach -- Burroughs is driving, Ellroy's ridin' shotgun, totin' a machine gun [He expecting Nazis, or a lose herd of zombies?] . . . Robert Johnston is in the seat across from me -- wants to bum another smoke . . . The clouds are stones. How the hell can Bukowski sleep in this crate? He needs a shave . . . Twilight Zone straight ahead. Hell, we're already there.
Sweet dreams to all,
a bEast on the Eastern Front
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