I confess that I do something that I'll call SLOW-MOTION MOUTH,
Or PAUSE THE MOUTH.
I pause my TV, and then move the image forward in slow-motion to see contortions on the mouths of persons speaking.
I know that it's an eccentric quirk.
I guess I should go get some therapy, or go to a rehab center.
In the meantime, I will continue to PAUSE THE MOUTH.
I like to make noise makers out of empty boxes.
Small boxes work best.
Like those small raisin boxes.
I don't remember my last confession in a Catholic church.
On my next one I'll say, “Bless me father, I don't remember when I gave my last confession.”
As a young boy I searched trash barrels for peanut butter jars, then I ate what was left inside of them.
I know, gross.
I recently read that bacteria doesn't grow easily in peanut butter.
Lucky for me, or I might have died from food poisoning.
After I learned that Ernest Hemingway didn't wear underwear, I started doing the same.
I think it was only for a few months.
This occurred when I was living on a tropical island.
I also briefly stopped using commercial deodorants.
When I was living in my cottage at Chautauqua
Park, I took a cat down into the city, thinking it would be a better life for him.
I called him black spring.
(This was when I was reading a lot of Henry Miller.)
Anyway, he returned to my cottage after a week.
He had walked about two miles.
Black spring couldn't meow, but he sure had a good sense of smell, or at least a sense to find his way back to my back door.
IT'S ABOUT RENEWABLE RESOURCES AND CONFESSIONS