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  1. To live is to be misinterpreted. All you gotta do is go to a deli counter. Post apocalyptic. Unsung heroes of rock n roll. Makes me laugh. Amassing records. Winona Harris. pre Elvis. King LPS. Wrote Jerry Lee Lewis. Biography. Fascinated me as a human being. Winston Churchill. Who’s core is a mystery that is unsolved that usually has something to do with the mystery of my core that is unsolved – the mystery in me. Elvis Carl Perkins Johnny cash jerry Lee Lewis. A great man. A great American. Jimmy Swaggert his cousin. Self righteousness versus the devil. jimmy Swagger hypocrite. Holy Ghost field. Everything is crooked or people want it to be. Invent yourself sell some bullshit. Dennis hoppers son. 90%. Algorithm bullshit. Writer newcphrasecfor writer content provider. Entrepreneur. Period. [of]. Experts that are not experts at anything. One control. The computer guy does the same thing you do – you watch him do the same thing you do. I’m just watching it go down. First children’s book. One true Gospel. True story of Jesus Christ. Studied the gospels. Read around the gospels. None of this did happen yet I believe. Dead Sea scrolls. Chopra. Live wrong live long. Long view. Doctor Andrew Wiel. Not in it for your money. Yeah he’s gonna help you. Eat nuts. Can’t help but be himself. Live right. Death doesn’t want you. Increasingly people are not only dishonest but honest because they’ve never met themselves. Communication. Social platforms. Is there honesty anymore of any kind. Meet yourself. Love yourself. Hate yourself. Gospels. Honesty is such a gas bc it scares the shit out of people. Stanhope. Sometimes people are the most honest. Human beings are built to hold one another. Family. Understood. Family to fall back on. Increase to the edge of desperation. Time freedom silence and solitude to Truly experience the island you’re on. Accommodative. Look around. Desperation. See! Total desperation. Fascinating. Find that mystery in yourself can’t resolve. Transcend it. Destroyed by it. Live in it. Despite this n that. He’s sitting with the truth of himself. If he’s fortunate like jerry Lee.

    Sonny Liston beating up old men for change was a victim. Leroy jones. Big black spook in every mans doorway. Black people wanted nothing to do with him. Undefeatable physically. But his soul was unworldly. A great American. Who cares. Robert cccc johnsons mouth. Benjamin Franklin fur collar. Cigarette out of Robert johnsons mouth. Black history month. We can honor it. But first we got to cleAn it up. Stand out. Rich and mediocre. Less free. Accept embrace. Tales they used to say about civil war. Freedom. German people allowed that to happen. Mediocre enough you can become a hero. When I was a kid there were very few heroes but today it’s like “what do you do?” Well I’m a hero”.

    Patriarch of organized crime in nyc. Maron notes. Nyc history. Mayor walker. City that never sleeps. This place. Bourdain. Switch boards and more intimate landscape. Stimulate credit. Debt. Criminal element is banks and government. No more crime.

    A number. Numbers. Tax system. Is almost like that. Burroughs. Very interesting old crack pot queen. Science fiction writer with a dirty mind. Pseudo science. Cures but couldn’t cure the common cold. Cut ups. Nike commercials. Nation of rats. Some prophecy. Land of loners. Orwell. Big brother ish type of world. We are it. You can’t do it without anyone seeing you somehow. The truth is a lie by nature. Orwell. Beyond his being on target. Oppressive. We are our own oppressors. Self flagellation. Raw. Protagonist. Sam lip site. It’s not me. Best thing about fiction. A character. Honest but somewhat accurate answer. Not at all catholic. Gift of Catholicism. Elaborate notion of historical evil. Mythology.. Crucifix on wall next to it a sign from Asbury park saying ” puppies love this …” Check this out. I believe in superstitious. Jerry Lee Lewis. Pointed it out. Religion the word never mentioned in the bible. Man created the concept of good and evil for himself. Just to protect himself. So then God. Universal law under punishment. Give a damn about any of this. Shake people down. Like I don’t believe in Donald Duck. Sap grey cardboard colored sky. Birds. Money. Ocean. Clouds. Coffee. Women’s legs.

    The world is evil in the most boring way. Listen to anyone who’s out to save the world. Charity is another great racket. Evil has become so Boring. Trying to find evil that is interesting. Hobby. MIT interesting things. Like going to the movies.

    What opens your heart in a certain way. Hmmm

    In my heart hunger never give away. Sun kill moon. All roads lead nowhere but look at exceptional lives. Inspirational characters. So more much than Jesus. What do we turn to these days. The unbearable likeness of being

    Liberace said it better. The unbearable racket of being. Bing Crosby. Maybe when I retire I’ll write that book. Head hunters. Shrinking skulls. Squeezing the juice out. Getting to it. Embrace the loneliness and if you do you’re better off than 99%. The end of the road where desire is going to take you too. Love sex money the edge of desire. The other side and you do come thru it than you got nothing and you discovered new things to come out of the other end of desire. Your back where you started from. Then your orbit of desire is not longing for what we never knew. What life is. When you push it and keep going. Hunger expands. No such thing as satisfaction in desire. I’m good moment. I’m set. That’s part of the deal. Rolling Stones. Satisfaction is not part of the deal for more as this present cigarette. Business of lying. Satisfaction is never going to happen. Taking no strangers to being fulfilled by placating of substance. Running for the fear of being honest with oneself. Once I used Twitter. Tweet. Verbs. What the fuck. Waiting for what. Having email. Just a hit…. 45s. Hit. Fills in those little emptiness with electric kind of emptiness. Electric Kool aid Twitter test. Disposable thoughts you get back writing thing 144 characters. Traction. For what. Satisfaction in Twitter tracks. The tracks of why Tears twears. Where’s your joy in fears. Medicine. Is exactly what is the bullshit. Illusion of scurry craving struggle. Envy for very stupid people. And I do mean to be judge mental. Faux satisfaction. Non satisfaction. So much lower. Salvation.

    Fountain of youth the elixir of life ten million dollars in the back of a cab. And then you realize you are still alive and it’s time to slow down and live then speed it up and go because there is really no place to go.

    911 is a joke in yo town.

    1. Confessions of a Hong Kong Hustler
      I am an expat American living in Hong Kong and I am a hustler. It’s amazing to me you can bullshit people in this city and get away with it. I was born with a silver tongue and it can actually prove quite financially rewarding. Out and about in the electric lights of the so-called “Fragrant Harbour” I meet hedge fund assholes, banker assholes, or just assholes and I find that most of them are very lonely and far from home. I provide home to them with my talk. I talk about San Francisco, I talk about New York, Thailand, Bali and they are butter in my hands. Tell my jokes. Then I make my move. Fish in a barrel baby. Lots of these guys have expense accounts and they’re traveling on business so they don’t give a shit and they’ll do anything because, let’s face it, they know it’s all for shits and gigs and their wives and children will never find out about them getting a blowjob in their hotel room looking out at that beautiful harbour facing China.
      You know what the trick is? You’re sitting at a bar and you tell them something revealing and act like you’re shadowed with a deep ocean of melancholy. You catch them off guard. Most people in Hong Kong are not used to this from a stranger. Fuck Grindr and all those hookup websites. I got it down to a science. Sharing loneliness is the biggest turn on if you can do it in stylish way and you’re still somewhat attractive. It even works for straight guys. I can see it their eyes. They turn.
      The skyscrapers tower over the city like canyons. The sounds of the subways fill the underground. Above, the smell of hot dogs and roast duck comes from the many vendors. Everyone seems to be in a hurry, shuffling along. Where are they all going? What’s the rush? There are so many tourists, which makes the streets over-crowded. The worst are the mainland Chinese who come in from Shenzhen on enormous buses for the sales and line up outside of Louis Vitton and Gucci to buy bags that they take back China and resell. I play a game when I’m out and about that I secretly named to myself: “Dodge the Chink.” The Chinese walk in a completely random way. In New York most people follow the rule of stay to the right and left. Not in HK. When they see a “Gweilo” like me (it means “White Devil” in Cantonese) I sometimes think that they go out of their way to run into me. Or hawk and spit at your feet. Everyone and everything is so close to each other. Living on top of one another. And the volume they speak to one another is at a decibel level you could hear in a wind tunnel. They fucking scream at each other. And the heat in the summertime is ferocious. Sure there are glamorous and exotic parts to the city, and others not so much. Kowloon side is like you’re on Mars. At night, the city lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree. This small island next to China, built by the opium trade.
      So check it out. I was out the other night with my girlfriend at this fancy schmancy place above Victoria Harbour and I see this guy checking me out and I give him the eyes and nod my head towards the bathroom. He meets me in the bathroom and we get it on in the stall. “Give me 500 bucks,” I say. He gives 500 and gives me his number. I throw his number on the floor and return to my friends at the table.
      Just walking down Hollywood Road. As I was passing by Saint Matthew’s Church, I heard a beautiful choir singing some song. It sounded like Cantonese, but not like any Cantonese I’d ever heard before. I am not a Church going man but I am not ashamed to say it made me cry. A Catholic Mass in Cantonese in the rain.
      So this Triad gangster who is a casual friend told me this story when I was out and about the other night in Lan Kwai Fong about this drug-dealer guy I sorta used to know, Chi Chung, a local HK guy, who met an untimely demise. Chi Chung worked for a Triad gangster called Mr. Wong, whose offices are in an area of disused warehouses on the Victoria waterfront. He is on his way, at night, to drop off the money he has collected for Mr. Wong when his car breaks down. He is not far from the building so he gets out and begins to walk. The route is unlit and derelict. He thinks he hears something behind him but cannot see anything. Hearing it again he looks but seeing nothing he keeps walking. Then he suddenly realizes that a pile of rags had moved behind him. He is pursued by the pile of rags and is finally attacked and killed by it. The rags appear to enter his body. Chi Chung’s body was found later by Wong’s men and, being utterly mangled, was disposed of in one of the nearby derelict buildings. As they leave it behind, looking like a pile of rags, they fail to see it move. There is something Gothic in Hong Kong about the places and buildings in which both natural and supernatural predators reside, unnoticed.
      Yesterday I was in Wan Chai and I met an old Chinese man who was playing a violin on the street and it sounded like ‘somewhere over the rainbow’ but it was different. So full of longing and sadness. When he finished, I threw some money in his box and asked, “What was that song?” “Pietro Mascagni,” he said with a smile. Life surprises you from time to time.

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