He Loved This Place- GiesThe Xmas Club Money You Tanger

Tragic Mulatto were a bunch of hardcore stalwarts. Last night I pissed in a sink for the first time since the days o' Panthers. The scene. Where you meet people. Where you go through rites o' passage. Fancy dress night. Where I was introduced to certain patterns. Where it first dawned on me the course o' life. Aye. Letchworth. Lissome shopgirls wearin' tight feted underwear outline. Grubby. Strainin' withoot ever trying. I am too far down the line . For a person to write they must have a feeling that they deserve to be listened to. The fat man does not possess that sense o' value. The hefty ones have nothing to declare them free of comedic roles. How can they be members of the race? "The only way I do it is meet somebody in a pub and then shag them". I will just hang around and lurk and aggrevate and piss on their many flowery parades wi'a' the DJ culture that goes wi' them while they invade ma space at the edge o' Fife dance flairs. Rocking and rolling. I was in a screamo band. The care sector. Stuff's no worth editing. The conversational that marks ye as mediocre. I am the new Phillip 'Phil' Differ. Soon the Record will disown another former hero. Wee Burnie is now a dead beast. He was once the wee mite who made ye glad to get 'poleaxed' on our Bucky and claim a free pie. I cannae express desire. I'm not legitimate. CC Bill $14.95 for 30 days. Unexpurgated access to all the guilt and mental illness you will ever need. "Our Boobies are all yours". Not the sole cause. Ended up on a night oot wi' masel indoors. Ma ain factors. Where is the love? Where is acceptance of soundtracks and ballads? Why can I not do a degree? Simply because I was not raised to do so. Apologies to all the advice. How are you going to afford that? He's daein' that. We're paying for him. I like looking at gappers. Boozy Best is deid. I cannae extract the poison frae the 'Tour de Poitrine' I wore on the first day in 1983. Looking back on yer life. The moment it ended. You really did have nothing of interest. That is not glib. A collection of statements to let you in on exactly the way he felt at 11.37 PM. In this place- one room and a place to sit which doubles as a bed when I get too worn out by having inspiration check oot. I may have to resort to the conversational to get the point across. Spent the day without any retrieval frae hours of trying to out think yous. I haven't any credentials. Music is all competition. How aware are ye of thae 'Nuggets' collections? I prefer Orbital. Lighting thae fires in the mid 90's. Get some vibes on. Get the martial arts on the go. 'Bottom' comedy still blows yer mind. Even ganja obsessives can be patter merchants. Drifting through life wi' awbody loving ye. Married in country hooses near Balingry. I'm no wearing any keks. She loves the fact I wear a tee wi' Superman on it. Fellowships. People around ye. I tell ye that I need that but I also can't stand the reality of being present within it. A' day. 10 slices. Millbona Gouda. A slice every 5 minutes passes yer day. Mother says "we a' need a bit o' comfort". Playing away frae hame. A mother o' 5. Yer brother has a bigger willy than you. "I've met people with your condition who enjoy a perfectly normal life". Congenial person. Give us a few pounds pal. That's a' I am. There was a time. Late December. Like in that song that naebody kens and I can get away wi' mentioning. Watery sunshine ower the hair. It was like nothing I'd seen and nothing I could ever have. I lent ye money so you'd talk for while. I want into the ways of it. You all know it. Here's a vacant one-defined by haein' nae cash or nae attraction. I go and visit graves these days. They make me feel like I should be crying. No because of who they are, mair because I cannae act in the manner of the class who measure the quality o' yer stane. The only reason I still am is 'cause o' how stupid I am. It's a' doon to how I cannae grasp thae plungin' extremeties o' the real direness due to my lack. I should add a given that I only speak this way cause I once read skaggy books. I only think this way cause I once shat on a Xmas step. Others have to teach me and show me the path. I have a bearing which needs to be educated. I can only ever operate in the 'confessional' genre. Others have to say it for me. I mean I ken it's no Fitz O' Depression. It's mair like Neil Hamburger. See? "I don't believe in the power of love. I don't believe in the wisdom of stone. I don't believe in a god or the mind" But I am alone.