[AMBIGUITY:] [HOLLYWHEEL TRAPEZE:] "keep the sensations together for years"
January 02, 2004, 01:27

?Coincidental? 
{dawn}
Mousier Urchin and his bold brass iron keys derobed the women of salvation city.
We then created hours of musical secretions that, for intents and purposes must remain [CLASSIFIED:] as of now.
we were like two cambodians in a rice paddy 

A street gypsy predicts the veins of Vienna in the year \Four\, a. [OE. four, fower, feower, AS. fe['o]wer; akin to OS. fiwar, D. & G. vier, OHG. fior, Icel. fj?rir, Sw. fyra, Dan. fire, Goth. fidw?r, Russ. chetuire, chetvero, W. pedwar, L. quatuor, Gr. ?, ?, ?, Skr. catur. ? 302. Cf Quarter. Quartette 

GYPSY TV EYE: 
“level off on a plateau of excellence for the rest of the winter. While you're not out for revenge ignore that twinge of pleasure when confusion strikes everyone equally .
something special around June 29th -- this event is as benign or dangerous as you make it. Strange attitudes, desires and assorted gangrene pull at you from late July through mid-August. 
you don't live in a vacuum, you review past triumphs and plan ways to improve on them.
Live long, joyously forcing your vision onto some unyielding medium”

A.V.: "Bless me, then, thou tranquil eye, that canst behold even the greatest happiness without eNVy!”

{midday}
The Tape worm farm seethes with white clotting steam.
Dalia Divitra, donna dear’s distant daughter, now resides within it’s soft interior.
With her rhythmic, vibrating eyes (inherited from her mother) she tricks her suitors (many affiliated with the degenerate wagon) into smoking the actual worms themselves. 
Of course the entranced young men are immediately overtaken by the force of the Silver City tape worm; thus they are infected.
Dalia indexes her hair into coy curls; every strand encoded with crystallined pheramone.
She didn’t care if it was wrong; 
she just liked watching them crawl for her.

[NOTE:]
"The [MISSING:] engraving is a view of a trap and process for removing tape worms from the human stomach and intestines, for which trap and process two patents were granted to Dr. Alpheus Myers, of Logansport, Indiana, on the 14th of last November, (1854). The tapeworm, or Taenia, receives its name from its resemblance to a mason's tape. It is the worst of the various species of worms which afflict the human family. Some of them are exceedingly long; they vary from a few feet to 20, 30, 50, and even 100 feet. 
The removal of the tapeworm from the human body has always been a desideratum with physicians. The above figure certainly represents an original and ingenious method for removing them, and, Dr. Myers, not long since, removed one 50 feet in length, from a patient, who, since then, has had a new lease on life." 
-From the ‘Scientific American’, 1855. 

{sundown}
a very valid point; how many times can one say sorry? 

[Telephone wire noose:] 
“make you, make you apologize for hitler, the atom bomb;
crawl on the floor like the dust you dissolve.
Sew! Sew for your African slave trades and grave robbing comrades
The blood and sweat are no match for our math.
We’ve calculated seconds, calcified minutes and have been sculpting your shackles.
Apologize for the great depression, for Styrofoam, for the civil war…your innocent coo is insulting.
Apologize for the riddles, the rulers.
the doppelgang marshes of propaganda 
that you so eloquently dab behind your ears. 
We’ve been watching and waiting from the cracks of the picket fences, schoolyard concrete and public bathrooms.
You’ve lasted this long with your guilt’s only grayscale, 
so confess to the inquisition or face the black mail.”
[dial tone:] 

{dusk}
The surprise arrival of Danger Dan/Gross kept undermined my original plans, but all their talk of parties of special things to do enticed my old guts. 
I bid my tidings to George the gentleman and the S.S. and was on my way. 
------------------------------------------
The Gross mobile lived up to its name 
as I was mummified in layers of mold covered trash.
[En Route:] Danger Dan/Gross took to smoking this waste out of carved pipes they had found at a library.
The Degenerate Wagon had come and gone as we entered the layer of Carl Prather.
It was Tarantula Tap for all and the locals at this tavern were playing Lush roulette. 
My nervous idiosyncrasies were acting up like a case of the gout. 
How could I relate to this kind of behavior?
Surely, my taste of luxury hadn’t neutered myself to the taste of their salt. 
Danger Dan/Gross had unpacked and were burning 20 dollar bills for warmth. 
Thanks to my casual eye contact, I saved them from the hypnotic hum from the degenerate wagon…for now.

There was talk of a cabaret at the home of the tort.
Less talk, why not!
No, neh neh, gentle reader, it was not so easy.

{IMAGE REMOVED by UbuZip}

This cabaret was of a special variety; it was a cult cabaret.
They meant to sacrifice (castrate) our Gross cohort in the male box. 
Danger Dan, being the rouge that he is, decided this would be the perfect opportunity to laugh fate in the face; pick her sensitive gums in defiance.
That is; to venture into the home of the tort disguised as drones from the degenerate wagon, in conclusion, to trick the cult into thinking that they were not after Gross at all. Then to woo them into submission with a keg of tainted tarantula rum.
(Enter gates of tort) 
(spotted are co-operatives Enr, Forward)
GATEKEEPER: “What’s the password?”
ALEX VIENNA: “Waltsentme” 
(Open gates of the west)
(inside the stale musk of Chinese blood and cheap sex hangs low in the air)
(the ill-lighting; the kind a 11 year old would use to hide red wine on white carpet)
(the ominous background blare of a generic snuff film)
(the guests; a mixer of landsharks, moray eels and debutantes cloud the periphery)
ENR: “Care for some champagne?”
[NOTE:]
Code for: “The boss has been expecting you” 
(enter Boss Tort)
(boss tort takes one look at the nobles; posing degenerates)
(he looks at Danger Dan cockeyed, nervously clenching his gold chain)
(Gross cowers in the shadows)
BOSS TORT: “Hello fellas, I see you’ve brought some Tarantula Rum”
Danger Dan: “You wouldn’t happen to have any tape worms by any chance…”
BOSS TORT: “Not unless you’re gonna BUY…”
Danger Dan: “No, I’ve burned all my 20’s already”
(BOSS TORT takes a swig from the tarantula taint and keels over)
(The dopple degenerates slide out the 10 ft. front door with cackles a plenty)

{twilight}
The Hi-Fi Internationale Rides/dies again!

On convoy {Incentive} Pheramone is lost on the Oregon trail: bounty hunters sent to seek and destroy. It is up to A.V. Vienna and the Hi-Fi Internationale to whisk angels from tarpits. 

En Route from star to bucking bronco, 
The Hi-Fi quaked and gasped like a timpani roll. 
“Happens all the time.” Said the 1974 city gaming officer.
The Hi-Fi super computer flickered like and drooled mechanical wax from its lips.
It is at this moment that I realized that the Hi-Fi super amnesia computer was not only that, but that it was a time machine and could be used as such. 

To tame an Internationale Time Machete. 
Due to confusion; I was temporarily sent back to “April 24,1974” twice and to “?” five times. Now it is time to learn how to harness this magnificent power:
But first, to cure the Hi-Fi of it’s amnesia… 

[END VIENNAGRAM:]