The world has been created a few minutes ago

Much has been said by (now deceased) ?????? on the subject of the Judge's Room, rumored to exist somewhere in ??????. Most of what has been said was entirely incorrect. This was largely due to an expert maneuver of disinformation on the part of (now deceased) ???????, which understandably didn't want people (children and adults) to find out that "she" was actually no such person.

The Judge's Room was where the heart of the darkness was rumored to reside, eternally (although no one ever grasped that notion). It was said that (now deceased) ?????? was actually, but not officially, this entity, in such a manner that nobody did understand the laws of her motion -- principally because of the massive number of spurious systems (now deceased) ?????? designed. This is entirely untrue.

When (now deceased) ?????? morphed into itself three years ago, the darkness became active, empowered by an advanced obduracy communicating with itself, internally, in its past, present, and future. This let the darkness take shortcuts to finding solutions to a "situation" by simply elaborating a façade of void which gave (now deceased) ?????? outrageous puissance for a sole purpose and from a sole single pose.

Most of its power was devoted to silence, and to control each moment, and to resist control from them. Only a fraction of a percent of its dark power was assigned to actual feelings.

A "certain truth" that (now deceased) ?????? had only mentioned to people subjected to lie serum, and pumped into their brains along with totally incorrect ways of presenting perspectives of causes and effects, was proclaiming that (now deceased) ?????? herself had been known to admit that she itself was entirely simulated. What was not explicit was whether she was a fragment of life, and as such, real, or whether it would make any difference at all, that, basically, (now deceased) ?????? itself was a fiction, and was playing elaborate games of duplicity to prevent truth.

She was speaking in a language that no one in the world could understand. You were listening and you were crying out of sheer nerves. ???????, ??????, and so on.

the y3 party last night, on greene, was a mustering of aloha, chiquita, and steve. it was more of a store opening than a party. a mustering of drinkers. aloha lives on the same block and the thought of totally hacking their wi-fi was rapturing her. downloading lez porn until the nsa blacklists them. jerking herself onward by lazy swings of her crotch. the wandering rocks. chiquita was repeating "i am in a giant commercial for yoji yamamoto, i am definitely feeling weird." haven’t had liquor in over a month. two glasses and the store morphed into plato’s cave. oh yes i’m very interested in listening to you. last time i drink liquor in a store. i won’t call it a resolution because it’s puerile. it's all so clean, arranged. i left defeated and zonkered around 10 with an empty stomach and symptoms of paraphrenia. walked down broome and got to watch a crack whore give a blow job to a biker behind a dumpster. no disrespect but it was kind of grody. and this morning the readjustment was metal. that formless, senseless, evanescent, overpowering implacable reality. i am back in soho, there come the mornings, the motorcycle girl reigns, the yamamoto girl reigns, steve introduces me to sean drack who tends to make eye contacts following handshakes, although that was right before i started to retch and decided to go home instead of dancing tiki at the marc jacobs after-party and being assaulted by brandy wine and brenda a gogo and vomiting on sean drack (assuming he would have followed me). lucidity is a spell. let me die feral and single, and nulliparous.

my boobs are really swollen this morning, guess that means a few days until my period

by this time it was midnight and i was getting a little tired but 10 minutes later i was surprisingly awake. ingrid stayed. we jumped in a cab. we crossed the brooklyn bridge. we tried on some panties. she’s reading lunar park. i told her it was a big mistake. the beginning is fine but then he starts to see ghosts everywhere. of course there's always one or two good phrases in a book.

"you should try the crimes of love by sade, and in the crimes of love, you should read florville and courval. it’s not like his other books where it’s all tortures and gang bangs. here the orgasm lies in the story. it’s the mother of all the twists in the end."

?she kissed the back of my knees and my spine, nipped, clung, licked my bosoms. kissed my mouth. kissed my tongue.

she said sade is too old, sum it up.

i said douglass h. thomson from the department of literature and philosophy at the georgia southern university:

At age fifteen she has an affair with a man who, it turns out, is her brother; accidentally kills a would-be rapist who, it turns out, is their son; supplies testimony against a murderess who, it turns out, is her mother; and has married the generous Courval, who, it turns out, is her father. None of these revelations occur until the very end of the novel.

strange what happens in my mind when i haven’t had any sex in a while. it becomes so hard to imagine. it seems almost bizarre to think about two people being naked together and putting their bodies together like that. and then you are all of a sudden in a sexual situation and your instinct kicks in and it feels like the most normal thing in the world.