and again and again
March 16, 1996
Wendy's is beautiful within, not beyond description. So it goes with the dead, the natives of the thriving sign.
Beauty's nothing more than weather damage - the sign's fading, crumbling, blinking out. Beauty is de-scription, not in-scription. Beauty, as such, is endless, so long as knowledge of the tremendous impotemce of inscription does not stop the dead from rising to meet its hideous precondition.
March 18, 1996
I maybe ain't so good at speechifying, but I can sure as fuck split my head open and deliver its real hardworking matter to the hungry air! I can also turn furniture upside down(if it isnt too heavy). The fucking point is clear : I may not be an individual, but I'm still a force to be reckoned with. Forget this and my bloody head will be all over your fucking upside down furniture.
May 23, 1996
Parts of cities, brains, smeared into gums. Let's reminisce. Daddy with his tingling chute. Mommy fidgeting toward compliance. The talk of speaking of names that surrounded them, then. And then, and then, and then. Those who hesitate are found
May 25, 1996
Wendy's needs a stench area. People like a stench. Their initial reaction - painful withdrawl - is always quickly followed by cautious fascination. A stench is a stink that has found a way to entrench itself. It is metaphor: abstraction digs in to a real body and decomposes it to the point of presence. People like a stench because it mimics their own truest moments.
NOVEMBER 14, 1996
Today the restaurant was filled with warmth, a spirit of caring. The food was just right and the service was prompt. For the first time this season, snow began to fall. Parents laughed with their children. Handsome employees made witty - but not inconsiderate - remarks. Retired couples were given Extra Value coupons. I felt like getting fucked up and watching t.v. forever.