<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11186146</id><updated>2011-04-21T17:43:04.175-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Alice In The Altered States</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alicebtalkless.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11186146/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alicebtalkless.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Alice B. Talkless</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16500881881554897108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>4</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11186146.post-111327685721552160</id><published>2005-04-11T20:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-11T20:34:17.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Alteration #3 - God vs Skunk</title><content type='html'>A huge halo of TRUTH usually denotes a huge liar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I wanted was to take the trash out. I saw the little skunk, and I thought it would scramble off at my noise - which it did at first, but then decided to circle back around to attack me - in a skunkey way - with stink instead of claws and teeth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried ignoring it, but finally its ridiculous bravura pissed me off enough to pick up a stick, a stick with a jagged point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went right for the stupid skunk. It was surprised that I didn't care about the smell-threat it held to be so all-powerful. I said, "Go ahead. I'll kill you anyway, stink or no." It was so surprised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't even really that mad - just irritated. Imagine if I'd been truly angry, like the last time I tried to hurl a great load of shit at humanity, for instance.  All that came out was liquid - so I tried drowning them in a flood. I lost interest, though, before it was all over.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next time will be more concrete. I'll reach way up and grab all of the shit humanity has forced into existence, and I'll bomb them with their own mortalities. A huge load of reeking heavy artillery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You thought I was just a treat you could snack on - a lollipop for when you weren't feeling so nice. Surprise. When I kill it is because an end is imminent...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11186146-111327685721552160?l=alicebtalkless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alicebtalkless.blogspot.com/feeds/111327685721552160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11186146&amp;postID=111327685721552160' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11186146/posts/default/111327685721552160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11186146/posts/default/111327685721552160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alicebtalkless.blogspot.com/2005/04/alteration-3-god-vs-skunk.html' title='Alteration #3 - God vs Skunk'/><author><name>Alice B. Talkless</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16500881881554897108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11186146.post-111215347338343074</id><published>2005-03-29T19:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-29T19:31:13.386-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Poetic Statement, Alice Thinks</title><content type='html'>I am in a corner blindly faith contaminated happening in my eyes not at your object body my thoughts are stuck here at sane labels of moment doorways to deep passages I won't say the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A view opens from the breast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Memory is confecting words here I disappear into the horde like a huge vague beach clotted with fog. The abuse is intense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walk in my brain furiously immaterial gnats in heaven a waste in each moment as I look. The image on my eye is this woman on my eye. If you see what I am looking at you will be flat again. A god precedes its laws, god has no place in my mind. There is nothing to recover.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This moment began and will never be over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My thinking your face is an ideal in bed with theory's whore this world completely covered in skin. There, word germs into dreaming - a thousand alones cluster.&lt;br /&gt;Wolves won't stay in the circus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know where I am that's what I say now to tell myself how to be nowhere. Nothing happens I can make it appear this way I appear sick inside a system of coping. I vomit to get along by way of secret manipulated passage inferior infects the strong with covert collapse a split of world in a hateful eventuality. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the horrible drifting of words there is no compensation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11186146-111215347338343074?l=alicebtalkless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alicebtalkless.blogspot.com/feeds/111215347338343074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11186146&amp;postID=111215347338343074' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11186146/posts/default/111215347338343074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11186146/posts/default/111215347338343074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alicebtalkless.blogspot.com/2005/03/poetic-statement-alice-thinks.html' title='A Poetic Statement, Alice Thinks'/><author><name>Alice B. Talkless</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16500881881554897108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11186146.post-111022900762141615</id><published>2005-03-07T12:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-07T12:56:47.623-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Alteration #2 - What God Always Says</title><content type='html'>Once, I invaded a plastic portion of a woman's chest. I was ziplocked. Airtight. Nothing happened and I could barely hear her heart. I got out of there. (I've tried everything once, you see. I even tried to breathe in a green swimming pool. How would you like that for air?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stand at the top of your stairway - open my mouth. I imitate the fire alarm. Twice. My eyes begin to cover the whole space, replicating themselves like splotches on a glass palette. There are thousands of them. Tens of thousands, bashing atound in a crowd. No sound...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who thinks they are talking to me? Raise your hand. I'd like to talk to you, but if I did, if you really were here and I did talk to you, I'd forget what to say and then I'd appear to be shy. I am shy, but only when I'm trying to talk. If I had anything at all to say to you right now it would be that you are gross. I have to pretend that I'm not neglected.In this way, I appear to be normally bored and boring. If I saw you on the street today at the same time I was seeing everything else all at the same time, I'd try not to notice. Then, I wouldn't have to talk to you at all.I would appear boring. I might bore you. I hope I do bore you, then I don't have to talk or be entertaining in any way.People are bored in general.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I pretend that it's not happening, that means, then, that it is not. You understand. It's a good thing I don't say these things out loud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel pity for your shenanigans. How goes the mythology? (Answer: Left, like a neutron mollusk.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just overheard a part of some conversation. One voice said, I love you. Another voice said, You give great head. I laugh at this moronic identity. It is the result of my shyness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If your life was just one big nude woman, where would you sit? How polite would you be? If your death was just one big nude woman, would you mind the smell? You pretend you are so smart...Isn't that cute? Aren't you adorable? What a fucking brat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I saw you on the street today, I'd give you a hug. If I saw you on the street today, I'd run over you with a truck. Both statements are equally true. There, I sound more like myself now. It's comforting, isn't it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11186146-111022900762141615?l=alicebtalkless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alicebtalkless.blogspot.com/feeds/111022900762141615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11186146&amp;postID=111022900762141615' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11186146/posts/default/111022900762141615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11186146/posts/default/111022900762141615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alicebtalkless.blogspot.com/2005/03/alteration-2-what-god-always-says.html' title='Alteration #2 - What God Always Says'/><author><name>Alice B. Talkless</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16500881881554897108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11186146.post-110977961743766061</id><published>2005-03-02T11:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-02T09:00:42.650-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Alteration #1 (Not An Alternative)</title><content type='html'>An adventure has begun: Has, was; concurrently it means the same thing. If this is/was the beginning, it would be, but it is not. If there were a follow through, we might be golfing or hitting a ball of some sort with a bat of some sort. Or kicking a something. Punting a mouse through a mousehole comes to mind...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   All new world communities: Caution. Do not map the territory until you have played well. Only sports heroes shall be New World Rulers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   New World Disorders:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.   your principle is greed - even if manifested as anal retentive thrift&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.   you create or follow dogma relative to your principle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.   you are a passionate politician of your dogma&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.   you are an unreasonable human&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.   your reason is undermined by your passions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Most wars leave the following impressions upon second and third-remove generations:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.   don't spend money&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.   kids don't need much food&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.   shoes should have holes in them so the feet can breathe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.   all the corn in Indiana has to feed soldiers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.   or be burned as fuel for tanks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.   restaurants are Satan's banks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.   eat soybeans grown to feed the pigs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.   now the pigs die&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.   (soybeans pop like pretty good corn)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.  sugar on buttered bread is a valid meal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Every once in awhile the world needs a new space: The rents are too high in Brooklyn... mortgage your government.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11186146-110977961743766061?l=alicebtalkless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alicebtalkless.blogspot.com/feeds/110977961743766061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11186146&amp;postID=110977961743766061' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11186146/posts/default/110977961743766061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11186146/posts/default/110977961743766061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alicebtalkless.blogspot.com/2005/03/alteration-1-not-alternative.html' title='Alteration #1 (Not An Alternative)'/><author><name>Alice B. Talkless</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16500881881554897108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
