Doppelgänger

You. You look like yourself. Only, its is not in fact yourself. Solarized potassium seems to creep up ones leg. It seems as if it only happens when acid reflux occurs. Reflex.

Bend your back. Arch it. Chloride seeping past logs.

You both have the same skin. Porcelain.

Hustle

It pertains to a young apparatus. Quite commonly known as, distilled functionalism, only it differs from those such as Post-Neo-Constructionism and Ladism. More of a future tense juice container.

Love

Ecstasy.

Trailing long days.

Traja

Out there, there is a place. A feeling of completeness. Lost in a mind of its own, waiting for it to sprout and eat. Let this bleed, color the floors, loosen up.

Journal of Montreal

These have been delayed no idea why.

Saturday May 30

Eating weed does NOT work. After roughly 5 hours of eating high grade KB, I feel no effects. Shame too since the money was wasted. No biggie vs. Tupac though. One more fucking night and then a long sleep in. Need to pick up more papers before I leave. Maybe a box? We'll see.

In Old Montreal spotted a Ms. Bread. What the fuck. Oh to top it all off of course, i see a fucking artist on "Le Rue de Artistes" making name signs just like that one.

Women are everywhere. Oh my FUCKING god. Must come another time. It is a must.

Da Vinci didn't know how to make coffee.

Sunday May 31

United Colors of Beneton is where your house would be, if it wasn't where it is now.

Fancy bathrooms are nice. I recommend everyone shit in one.

Border Patrol 101 - Apparently being in front of a judge makes you have to pull over to the side. And go inside for questioning. Way to go Jessica Alba!

Dick check

Yup its there. Wait...yeah it is.

Melodicy

Short Version (AKA Boring) Don't read unless you smell like rotten eggs.

So my friend just started a subscription service for his record label. They are sweet check them out: Branch Records.

Now I really recommend reading the long version because the short version sucks. Really it does.

Long Version (AKA Awesome)

For those who enjoy music-if you don't something is terribly wrong with you- then I have fantastic news. A friend of mine has just recently started a subscription service for his record label! Now before you start assuming the worst, don't because that's just silly.

This label that goes by the name of Branch Records, is quite the label. First I suppose we can point out the obvious: yes branch as in trees! So what does that mean!? Well they plant trees for every CD they sell, they are just straight up GREEN (I was going to make that green, but my monitor only shows blue. Don't ask). So that right there is more incentive to buy music from them.

Another important factor is, oddly enough THE MUSIC! (Insert musical notes here) They have music ranging from: folk, indie, electronic, blues, rock, and everything in between-well no rap but that doesn't mean they won't have it in the future! These guys know what sounds good, look for actual talented musicians and care to progress the music industry away from that commercialism-ism-isms. In other words they do give a shit.

Here are some proposals from satisfied customers:

"I like tortles, and thanks to these sweet Branch Records I can finally understand what my tortles say! THANKS BRANCH RECORDS!"

- I like Tortles Kid

"Before I checked out Branch Records I couldn't pick up ANY girls at the local bar. But ever since I purchased their sweet t-shirt women have been jumping in my arms begging to talk to me! Thanks Branch records! I hope you got the wedding invitation!"

- James "The Former, Former, Former" Farmer

"It's not very often you come across enjoyable music for such a steal. Ten dollars a month for two albums? I feel like I'm robbing them!"

- Lasso Billiard

Mold Post

A letter was sent, but it appears that it was lost in transit to Prague.

Chances are that the letter was not sent to a pen pal.

Time to look to the Red Light District. Septagram

Pulp Boiled Raw

I've been biking 10-20 miles every day for the past two weeks. It's awesome. No idea what else is going on. Alfred Bitchcock.

Malnurished Carbon

Don't worry. That boy still has a sense of smell. The pencil retracts in a square formation. Risking breakage, Jillian, walks a straight path. 

Illicit love making in the back room. Strange temperatures weaving silk fingers. Painting the love affair of the an aborted race horse. Its jaw ripped off. Inside containing the ideas, lost from a German tailor.