Bi-polar Curious Psychic Psoldier!

Beehives among you, I'm stupefied, superfried and glazed after hearing his tales. Heavy Metal sunsets fade. Rainbow Mugs crack and stain. Cameraderie expands exponentially, better framing our bursting world view, and all along: Cats adore Wreckless Wrod Wrodriguez. They treat him kingly ~ and that's from a cat! You bet they sense the Ages in this dude's way ~ his heavy, wrighteous way. + Heard a bit about a 90-minute hump session tonite so that's grande. Phonecall'd earlier from highway don'tcha know, right after leaving her house, elated to have reconnected with her, wreminding her how deep they bee wrunning in each other's bloodestreames: irresistable! He was off to pick up the second pizza of the Friday night, each for different princesses and him to share.
"Helluva heckuva high on pantheistic life, hooray!" they sang. "Bi-polar Spinoza Holy Wroller! Bi-polar Curious Psychic Psoldier! We're waxing what we call Philosophacles on wraising public conscious-knees!" They wraised their steins sloppily high and spilling while they wickedly sang on into the after-midnight of the night before it all happen'd.

Constabulary Wishes

Ever so rarely scary Fred Barry blackcherry ripple
You triple dared me to be the Larry no 3's company nipple
All these thinkings re our homo~sapien~ness, our prime directive, our mammalian~ness, our human evolution/devolution, our latent brain real estate
The way is sweetly mown she sang
The song is sweetly moaned away
Do we have a pre~dispensation toward proclivity?
Do we holde while carrying nations?
Everyone's a VIP to someone she sang
Triumphi~sadly sung
We won
It's a Comedy

New Knotebooke

This is just too hot not 2 write in, RIGHT IN I'm in now: Bee my Best Friend now, and HOW! Chief 'How You Like Me Now' brown cow to Bo Peep and here we hear her Sheep go BLEEP, electric sleep her sheeps all asleep, a heapa woolly mammals with black feet, some muddy hooves, inlayed with concentric grooves, designed, 2 bee sure, yet perhaps not by God, my Goodenesse! but by them sheep selves.
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Half a Tongue Twister'd Alabaster 10-ft forms de female flanked by their human attendants IN BRONZE, We Men support Our Dames, hot dog. Hot Diggity Dog: Good God is Golly Gosha Mighty I might be some kinda knightly parasite nightly, dreaming I'm something I never was, only wished I could and there it was: col' comin' true WooHoo because, oh so simply because I BUZZ.
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Periwinkle three-ton trailer every wrinkle marks a failure, a Llesson Llearned: The Lady EARNED her yearning young. Young-ish her wish to Bee Remembered, one wish: to Re-Bee-membered. Grand Hive's alive, though severed. Un-together'd, de-tether'd, loosen'd juicily, savored as the Savior's Lips, a sailor's boxa trix, that's his own business, no wishlist pawn of the Amazon, my cart is full, no bull, I'm bouta get it on like Agamemnon: STRONG

Wherein an association rents a hall and throws a party

There was a great big party @ The Liberry, right there in The Thomas Jefferson Building, right back through to the Main Reading Room, cocktails in The Great Hall, string quartet upstairs, and lawyers everywhere. The American Bar Association, not being representatives of fine pubs across the country as perhaps believed yet seemingly knowing it and showing it, threw down loot to honor themselves @ the LC @ nite.

My job? To mingle and talk about The Library. Heck Yes! Funass noche with all these shmancy legal folks, including a woman who was trying to sell her FrankLloydWright house but didn't want it to get in the hands of anyone who would significantly change it. All her serious bidders told her how they were going to knock down walls and completely expand and alter and she was horrified. She was also on her way to a full-on drunk night, as all the liquor was free and on tables in front of busts of Thomas Jefferson and George Washington.
She told me of her being the dean of a law school a while back, and how she insisted on authentic Spanish Tile for the rooftops no matter the cost, and how she loved her rare book collection and loved The Library of Congress.


Many told me how much they admired the LC and what they remembered about any research they did and any books of theirs which might be in the stax, or where they sat, but mostly it was me going positively OFF on how dope the room they were standing in was. We were just hanging out in the Mmain Wreading Rroom, not being shush'd, and able to look around and UP freely! Right under the great color collar painting by BLASHFIELD and the secret center sanctified scene only seen from down below where we were, so casually, in a party ... So many lawyers and pearls and wives and bowties and tortoise shell frames and it was to them I was flip-flapping gums regarding the books around them and elsewhere in the Liberry's complex.
As the night progressed the questions progressed free-boozishly from Who are these statues? to There sure are a lotta boobs in the art of this building! How many are there all over, bro? Could be anywhere from 10 to 44 y'know? I know! Beaucoup de Boobage in the decorative schema cuz ya gotta count da sculptures too, including da outside Neptune Fountain crew, which was where I was headed when the lawyers ascended to supper. I drank a refreshing glass of Johnnie Walker and shot out into the snow, the ice-snow blowing hard'n'sideways. Capitol Hill was c-c-c-c-c-cold and I felt GRAND!! Collar up and into the wind, I walked to Union Station to catch my train. I was wearing my grandfather's suit, hell yes. Thank you for wreading this. I tried to write it as fast as I could, just 4 kix.

LIVE'N'DIRECT

Mon Frere, dear brotherself, Hieronymus Whelp thru Zoot Allures 8-trax stax in the backa th'liberry, where today TODAY! I was taken 'round the stax of the Music Division holy frijoles! Walked down aisles and rows past shelves all FULLA crazymany kindamagics, all these musics written down, codified, organizized, and laid on down forever and on. As long as our culture survives and guaranteed longer, these peeple's songs can bee sung, that is, until the Sun . . . stone cold blows up. * Scorching-Hot Composer action, passing handwritten names on archive boxes, some loose folders, pages, posters: Rossini, Koussevitzky, Mozart, Bernstein, Beethoven > saw a LIVE Porgy & Bess score Yes! George Gershwin inkings in close I see'd these pages I know I did! Past more shelves fulla scores and notes and financial records and personal correspondence of Thousandes of Greates of Music, so fun, saw Sergei Rachmaninoff's desk and chair!! What the heck was that doing there? Two interesting nouns in my workbuilding: whatta pair. Later, Amazingly, I turned around quickly and found myself looking right @ the Charles Ives section, top to bottom. Well, middle to top, then down thru middle again and bottom, while class filed passt. * Flipp'd thru an AARON COPLAND score! All the pages were in their own plastic so I was free to freely flip fabulous and I discovered he was so much neater than I'd seen of him before, then I realize he's trying to do a good job, cuz it's for someone, a presentation. He had simply written "Ballet" on it, on others he called it "Martha's Ballet." Martha Graham was creating the dancing. It was to be dedicated to Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge at the Library of Congress, and it was to be called APPALACHIAN SPRING. Hot dog, you ding-a-ling! I love that thing! What soundes! Hell Yes!

Wrobbie Sailor Players Please!

WRASCALLY IMAGE MAKING BY HOWARD BE THY NAME

Putnam Putnam!

At the urging of the American Library Association, President McKinley appointed an actual librarian as Librarian of Congress in the spring of 1899. Herbert Putnam had served as librarian of the Minneapolis Public Library, the Boston Public Library, president of the ALA, and was generally considered an all-around respected fellow of books. Putnam transfigured a research library for the government into a national library with a worldwide reputation, making American librarianship a priority by instituting the Library of Congress classification scheme and pre-printed index cards for handsome wooden card catalogs across the U.S. He retired after 40 years with the title of Librarian Emeritus and was succeeded by a poet.

Logging Large!

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Beelzebubblegum, one of my most common First Words (along with its counterparts: beelzebubba, hubbabubba, bee-hell’s-above-us, bells-a-bubbles) and one of the most fun lexical hubs, gives me ratt-sized ‘lay-it-downetry’: Paira Pearcy eyes starin’ at me, the gift of the usually hidden other eye hotly acute, I do his bidding: get Milton Berle involved in your life. }}}}
Flapjacks and coconuts, hazelnuts and asscracks > Beelzebubble bloodbursts firing soil up my spine alive, secretly passin’ funky messages through them tiny-ass corridors [shout out to cilia in da area] finally spazzing beyond, spraying search-whistles abracadvering, it’s maddeningly endearing as it’s unraveling like kindergarten time-travelling, yammering across three bridges and still we got waters to cross. Our boss is the same boss so don't see me off, cuz. Don't seal me off cuz you’re too much in the moment of Then, less Now and Zen like Bobby-ass Plant on the solo tip so check it: BIG LOG.
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