Worded stimulation for the little urges inbetween. (short bits)
Forget everything you know that you know.
Do you feel better now?
Italian soft porn soundtracks from the late sixties. It’s fantastic groovy easy and once more I wish that I could fill the streets with music and turn the world into a movie.
There was a pregnant girl, who was pregnant.
I knew she was pregnant from her belly, which was well rounded, in a very pregnant way.
So in the end it was her belly that was pregnant, not the girl itself.
Being a pain in the arse is an easy solution to many problems. Being cold in return is just the one thing.
Simpleton as you are Scrolling up and down again page after page clicking on the link to freedom that is nothing but titillation. Sex sold on a platter wrapped up in digital bits that mean nothing yet prove addictive. Will u come back. As the language reduces itself to c’s and r’s and u’s, I put our hope into my dreams and reduce myself to a bit that is one while you are zero.
I start chatting to the barmaid, but then bar maids are a lost cause. They get this all day long and I am sure that I am no different to the guy who tried to get into her pants half an hour earlier or an hour or two or yesterday.
History is so heavy like history books are heavy, they are big and heavy like phone books, but they don't bend when you lift them and they are heavier as well, perhaps because it's not only names and numbers but it's the bits in between that are heavy.
Never but you can't say never cause you can't prove it never I mean, you can't prove it, cause then it may just happen and then you are wrong so you can't really say never not often you can say, but not never.
Loopy. All my friends are, loads of them are anyhow, not all are my friends, some are friends of other friends, but the point is that at times I feel as if I am hanging out with a bunch of lunatics. Not that I am much different. I am loopy myself, unbalanced in my own sick way, but as all the others I am convinced of my normality.
There is a John Spinks lookalike on the next table in deepest darkest Rome.
I am with a pretty Japanese girl.
The waitress has a nice bum.
Short and concise and precise and to the point and without fucking about too much and without any niceties. Just as I said, straight to the point, to the core, to the essence and then back from there, slower now, careful not to tread somewhere and get caught as I am trying to get away with it.
What a little drink can do is one of two things, it either picks you up and tosses you in the air before it catches you gently puts you down again and makes you thrive on that high for the rest of the night or it tosses you up in the air and lets you hit the ground hard. Either way the next day is often a wasted one.
It goes on like this forwards and backwards and then abruptly it all turns, but it doesn't explain a thing, no it doesn't and if you ask me I would and if you ask me again I would, but I don't know either not always anyhow, sometimes I do, if you ask me then it's OK.
Woosh it happened again and that was only yesterday. Perhaps for the better perhaps more real as past then as present. We lose fear as we experience. Experience life through the tube and build your knowledge on the illusion of the real.
Got a lot on my mind at the moment, got a lot to do at present, time is starting to run short and only god knows why, but he never tells.
Sometimes I feel like wasting a little time just leave some laying around so some other person can pick it up, then they have a bit of myself, but they don't know who I am, to them I am just the stranger who left some time behind.
Scuffing and swallowing and munching away giant heaps with big double sized bites, while slurping Italian style coffee that is to hot to drink.
One has to keep ones dreams alive and if just to reconfirm them being dreams.
I was turning in circles. Circles - circles - circles. Isn't life a circle of constant change. A repetition of change which repeats and manifests itself in that repetition. How can change repeat itself?
Something that wanted to be let out, gone wild then it wanted to return but couldn’t get back in, for it had grown in an unexpected way, When I said it again later it seemed irrelevant.
Projecting ahead. Railroad and hours to go, still waiting. Time tighter this way around. The planes left long ago never landed and never returned. Dumb stranger in the distance races along much to fast for my liking but here is now and it’s now or never. I shoot in the verbal interval, twice I do before I have to reload and then the target is gone again. Clear as a crystal was its definition the first time around when I carved it out of the rock that left the mountain deserted. Now I have to dig deeper to get the same result. Projecting ahead. The future is brighter this way around, twice the distance is clearly much safer.
Projecting ahead. That would be after the war. When will that be? He shrugs his shoulders and raises his hands halfway to articulate a questionable position then says “what do I know”, in an Italian accent if I am not mistaken. But accents aren’t what they used to be and I wouldn’t swear by anything holy that he was Italian.
Clearance and I am right in there, fast as would be expected for someone who is trying to get in, I reserve the seat by the window the one I dreamed about, ever since I wanted.
Obsession! It helps at times.
One cannot forget, if one wanted to forget things, that one wanted to forget!
Hence and whatever and whatever else and then hence again and so it goes, and why and why not indeed and so it goes again and then again. Do I know where that leads is a question you should never ask me. Trouble is always a good answer though and applicable to many things.
Down another street at the late hour of an early morning and I keep thinking that I may not ever get there. I know there will be another turn ahead and then another and there are instructions to follow, meant to instruct but they confuse. Lightheartedly I laugh it off, it’s meant to stand for: there is only so much I can take and the longer I take the more confused I get. Straight now till I reach the second corner which was also the corner I started from, I do not know what this means.
His main problem was that of having too much money, there was simply no way to spend it all in a lifetime without just giving it away.
While I was doing the dishes I was wondering about the lettuce I had just bought and which was now sitting next to the lettuce I had bought two days ago in a different shop and I wondered whether they had arrived at those two shops on the same lorry. Perhaps they had even grown on the same field. Now that was a nice thought. If they had indeed grown on the same field that would mean that they had grown up together and were probably rather pleased to meet again after (in lettuce years) a considerably long time. Fancy meeting you here, says one lettuce to the other. And there at the bottom of my fridge and through their plastic wraps the two lettuces smiled at each other.
Two foxy girls in a yellow car. Down the road. When they turn off they are out of sight and I get to stare at the empty street again. That’s not exactly what matters though.
The rediscovery of the self is the focus of my divided attention.
OK is a total of yeses, -although not perfect, but OK, so perhaps OK is perfect -whereas perfect on average is probably just OK.
I am breathing easily, I forgot what I wanted to remember which is exactly what I wanted to say and because of that I think I better excuse myself.
I said what I didn’t mean and kept to myself what I wanted to express. The moment I feel numb is here so I guess I should go with the flow. And please don’t ask me what I meant to say. Thank you.
I think I am something that I am not, but I am something that I think I am not!
And the music plays on, as my eyes follow the dancers around the ballroom. Battlefield earth I think, it’s not so far fetched though and the women are beautiful in there sparkling outfits. It really never ends just that sometimes you don’t partake, instead just watch and feel separated.
Funny Feelings In the Italian style I point at myself first with one then with a second eventually with both hands it comes from in here I point at my chest deep inside here and I point at my head. My eyes start to flicker and my mouth forms an inadequate grin with foam starting to build up at the edges of it. How I hate to love this feeling.
It’s twisted and turned around like a circle with sharp edges and twisted corners. Does it make sense? I suppose not or at least it would be difficult to see sense
in that, difficult not impossible. We humans are pretty good at making sense of nonsensical things. It is indeed rather funny how we tend to twist logic till it works the way we like it to
work and if no one else understands than that is definitely a point gained.
Sometimes it is hard to concentrate on one thing while you are trying not to think of another thing which by not thinking about it of course you do think about I think. Madness doesn’t change anything nor does it help to explain things, why would I go
mad when all it would do is cloud my mind. I go quietly insane but that is an entirely
different matter. Again logic would be the key to the matter of madness and again logic can be twisted to accomodate. However it doesn’t necessarily mean that it would explain anything.
There was a grunt again which could mean anything or nothing at all. I read into it
what I wanted to read, it was all a matter of perception, I thought. Ever thought of doing something really stupid? Like what? I can’t think of anything either.
Better fucking, fucking better, fucking better idea, I think, fuck. Random thoughts when I reach the final destination when I do, I do, oh yes oh fucking damn bloody yes. Is it the aggression that has managed to build up over the past few days perhaps weeks. When I get given a gun and am wearing a uniform I shoot someone cause that is what I was given the gun for, right. Damn fucking right. Now perhaps you are indeed right and I have indeed succumbed to some kind of internal madness which I like to let out from time to time just to put things straight for the sake of madness and also for the sake of being. Make a noise I say; at least you can feel that you are alive when you do. Oh fucking damn blackbeat shit with the emphasis on fucking again which definitely stands right at the top of my list of words, at present at least. There is energy. To much coffee is the answer drives me crazy that stuff don’t need no stimulant other than that, am mad enough as it goes don’t need no fucking other shit to flip my lid. I can definitely feel a valve opening better even bursting, shit comes right out not in a communicational sense more in a verbal heap of something nobody wants. I call it wired that is how it feels, strong and relentless and unstoppable and it feels damn good.
Ever thought of doing something really stupid? Like what? I can’t think of anything either.
Take me! Sex on a golden platter. Does this remind me of anything?
I want the real thing to start, the main show, the feature. Instead I keep having to look at the trailers.
Know what? Yeah right. Is that it then? Love is really like this, an utterly weird feeling.
Telephones, all they do is ring or not then the exchange of a few words as hands helplessly flutter about, too distant to make any difference. The question is easy the answer a yes or no. Simple as that, that is what phones are for.
It’s too or to or even two but two would be 2 as it is all about staying within the perimeter of the alowed number of characters and in that sense too may well be to or even 2 and as long as it all makes sense and as it all sounds the same it doesn’t hinder communication and should be employed either way. That is where language is heading I suppose, into simplification and reduction of the irregular.
Endless and pointless as well at times.
I think of you as a flower as you think of me as a tree, or could it be the other way around.
I may not be an intellectual, but I am having a great time.
I never get out of this world alive.
Till the bubble blows. Not before and not after. Just till then. That is were the time limit is. Like a sleepwalker I aim for that spot, focus unconsciously towards that goal.
Untold stories. There are plenty of those to be found wherever you care to look, if you care to look that is.
A cycling pervert, twisting and turning at speed as he goes along. Gazing and catching sight of eyes and breasts from a distance that proves save, till a passing car knocks him over and out.
I open my eyes wide and look into the world, and the world looks back at me. We get on alright me and the world -mostly, sometimes we play practical jokes on each other, but mostly we get along so-so.
Never, is never ever, whatever never, aspires to be.
I love music it always gets me into the mood sometimes it makes me happy then it makes me sad, it gives me energy or . . . just rumbles along and I love it all every tone every bleep every moment.
I can feel your eyes rest on me, how gently they move from word to word, from line to line. When a smile appears on your lips which then form those attributes of mine. Your attention you give me, and I am grateful, for it is you who activates me.
The bitter-sweet taste of revenge, - just a little word, just a thought, eating away inside, it makes us feel worse as we go over it - again and again and again!
When I had turned around a little princess had disappeared. I call her princess even though, she was a normal person, but than a princess is a normal person too and if anyone becomes a little more important than anyone else, then that person may as well be a prince or a princess.
There are a few things left that I feel need to be raised and questioned and deconstructed and abstracted and obscured and of course then finally solved. That's the moment to watch out for - the moment of conclusion.
Gaps - Mind them, on the tube, in life - anywhere really. Gaps are bad news, they have a bad influence. Bad influence on the outlook, bad influence on your well being. But they always appear like out of nowhere suddenly ‘hello’ GAP. Memory gaps are perhaps the worst like in mid sentence suddenly woosh gap were was I. What was it again I tried to formulate. Hm.
She is pretty! Another pretty girl who helps to confuse myself as I don’t know what I want. And as I always fall for beauty and never know what I want, I am often confused.
While half asleep earlyish in the morning I am wondering what is to become of the spider which is being sucked up by the vacuum cleaner, its bones slowly crushed it gets sucked towards an inevitable end. Does the spider know I wonder, does the spider feel I wonder before dozing off again for another half hour.
Refresh your Memory!
Life goes funny after a while!
Slap as I finally awake, slap again someone at the window and I decide not to react. Then the door bell goes one, two, three, four times. I get out of bed, turning the kettle on. Five minutes later the phone rings but it's to early and I let the answer machine get it. It's no one I want to talk to right now so I don't pick it up, instead I return to the kitchen and prepare breakfast. It's not a typical morning.
In full flow out of my mouth, in full flow. Considerably paranoid I would say.
I like you a lot you know, a lot lot.
I feel slow.
But the knowledge that there is nothing, diminishes any base there can ever be. Or am I completely wrong.
Everything I can do, you can do better.
Funny that through controlling emotions of distress and trying to act normal, normality becomes artificial.
He commands, not a great force, but simple acknowledgement.
Place, full of gizmos and gadgets, geeks would be the right word but doesn’t come to mind this time. When you take all the extras out of here you are left with an empty bar.
Brows are raised as smiles appear on faces, then a sense of familiarity creeps into the conversation, like a soft blanket. Where is it you want to go from here and if any direction is good why don’t we go there.
It didn’t lead anywhere and there was no conclusion.
Particular and articulate at that in a particular way, like a scratched record over and again without ever getting there, much like a loop on repeat generic though over and again, again.
I was in love once. When we met initially it was like something would pull our faces into the broadest possible smile, but I remember wanting to smile more.
Again and again I am tempted to shout out loud, but I don’t want to look like a complete idiot just yet, perhaps later, when I’m a little more mature.
Are you absolutely sure someone shouts at me while a cross shaped candle is lit. Minutes maybe seconds later I am awake my bed soaked in sweat I tremble and breath deep and fast. It's five in the morning and I'm glad i am awake and alive. I stumble through the dark flat into the kitchen to get some water, then on from there to the living room searching for a cigarette searching for a light finally I sit down and inhale deeply. I stare at my desk my hi fi my shoes that are cluttered all over the floor. I have a lot of shoes I think, maybe to many. Then my thoughts return to my dream which slowly fades away.
There is that underlying sense of madness, that fear of drifting into madness, that fear of ones emotions becoming uncontrollable.
Gimme a gun and I blow my brains out, it’s not gonna hurt you and I wont have time for it to hurt either. My life is pretty good a pretty good friend of mine told me earlier.
When she speaks her voice is a matter of sounds, cut together with no melody in mind, staccato, like a handful of ice-cubes dropped in a glass.
Some things that go through your head are truly strange, someone ever tell you that?
There is something comforting about opening a fridge, like you know someone will always be home, whenever the door is opened a friendly light inside comes on to greet you. I feed the belly then, but mostly it’s the thought the fridge caused me to have that makes me feel fed. It’s little things that make the bigger difference at times.
You know, animals don’t really have knee’s. Do they? Especially fish, they don’t even have legs.
Is the attraction the sadness that shimmers across the fields telling their story?
She has sad untrusting eyes, which are focused on a speck in the distance. She isn’t pretty or ugly, she’s just a girl with sad eyes who has lost her dreams.
In a cafe I wonder whether there is a fly for every table or if I am the only blessed one.
Sometimes it’s good being a drifter. I drift means I ain’t got no responsibilities for no one but myself.
Sometimes you don’t wanna talk to the people you know best, cos you know that it would be hard to hide the things you don’t wanna bring up just yet.
The London sun is shining, there is that immaculate grey sky, not broken by clouds or shades of blue just pale and pure.
On exit, I am being met or do notice these blank faces glaring at me critical and self righteous, arrogant and pitiful they seem to disregard and disrespect. If only I was taller I would tighten my knuckles before landing them right at the centre of their faces. As it is I am not and I don’t make fists or be stupid enough to indulge in silly notions of self gratification. As it goes I ignore they are there, pass by, ease my way down the road and forget.
The temperature had plummeted again, way down, after a spell of summer hats and jackets came out again. I hadn’t given up hope for it to get hot, but after a few days of grey watery weather I started feeling demoralized, yearning to be somewhere else. It was like that. The cloud cover would trap the car fumes and as a cyclist you felt like being gassed while attempting to reach a destination. The authorities charged the cars for the privilege, but the fumes were there to stay.
I drive it further, pushing harder and faster, waiting for a blow to hit back and touch my face. But nothing and when I calm I come to regret that moment.
Had it misplaced by plane, picked it up somewhere far away, it sounded good then, looked nice too and made perfect sense where it was. The sun had it backed over the years, yet it sounded like metal or some of it if not the whole lot. Where I took it to, it was meant to remind, and did make me yearn to return, feel the heat in the air and see on the ground more of what I took, some too large to pick up some carrying a glitter induced by the sun, but non of it was gold, yet I treasured it just the same.
The shorter ones are not really what I am after but they make a start and aren’t bad. Altogether a notion is being uttered, when it translates it works for me. When it translates it may work for others too. When it translates it may happen again, sometimes with a bang. Those are the good moments.
In conversation, she told that she liked wearing skirts and dresses better than not. What a woman, I thought, when the one I went out with thought of the same as items of a delicate nature that should be treasured and displayed in a frame, or almost that is.
The god damn flat was doing my head in, the problem was me being a god damn lazy son of a bitch or else I had a fully functional kitchen by now. But things started to get in the way and meanwhile time was ticking on. I knew that I would be able to work better with a proper table in a proper room. Just then I discovered about a million flies on the ceiling and walls, all hunched up next to the main light. What was it with flies and light and what was I gonna do about it? It was the price I paid for living by a canal, I got the vacuum cleaner and sucked them up, its one way that works with flies.
Hayfever is no fun. Being all snotty on my day off is no fun, it’s the bloody pollen and the pollution and the solution is bloody too, but I take it anyhow. I get the non drowsy kind and pop one, just as it says on the packet, the nose is still leaking for another hour before I gradually dry up. Then I get sleepy perhaps drowsy, but I took the non drowsy ones so it’s not an option. I waste the day in terms of work which needs doing, but I get to finish a book so it’s not all bad. In the evening my nose gets snotty again and I wake up. I’m gonna get there in the end.
Great legs outside I don’t get to see much of the face, being stuck in the dj booth, but i keep looking and hoping they come closer, just so I can see the whole all, rather than its particles.
For the moment I felt like I just wanted to sleep, wake briefly, then sleep some more. All of that was very exhausting.
We can do a quick turn and then smile again, but we are getting better at arguing as well. Cause we can I guess, cause when you know someone for that long they get slightly transparent, so when you punch them you know exactly where to make it hurt. It borders on nastiness, sometimes it doesn’t border.
“Its been a while,” he says and grins. It’s a sheepish grin or maybe I want it to be. We had a thing sometime ago, I was drunk, must have been; drunk, vulnerable, girl, seduced, against her will. I see the headlines. He was gone the next day, called a week later in the middle of the night, not sure what he expected, but my answer was no, and I had hung up before he could ask the question. Next morning was my time, I was faster in the morning.
Next Tuesday at nine on two, and I repeat it in my head over and over and it’s only the first time I see the ad, depending on the hours I put in I will be thinking nothing else by Tuesday.
It’s in the morning, only time to tackle the problem of inactivity, mind still unclouded and fresh, digesting dreams of disturbing nature, being chased down escalators by alligators is unusual to say the least. Something you wanna remember to tell your grandchildren if you make it there.
Vast expanse somewhere on the inside, us laid out in sleeping bags, huddled together for both comfort and warmth. There is wall and ceiling to be seen in the distance, but the fresh dew is felt as if it were on the outside under a real sky, or that’s what we are being told.
Double meanings. Quantity is good, quality better. Double the output and you got more to choose from. (It may not work for multiples.)
Staring for too long does nothing if that, it’s a tremendous waste of time if you ask me. Much better to get stuck in the action as soon as there is an opening, may get bumpy at times, but a lot of things get that way, hell we get bumpy ourselves when we get a little older and there is little we can do about it.
I came twice thinking of her last night, came twice looking at the pictures of us, afterwards I was alone again.
Thoughts, come and go. I wrote that before I think, maybe more than once, but you repeat yourself in conversation. The context may be different. It’s a principal.
It’s in the morning, say around eight maybe a little earlier, but minutes don‘t matter much at that time. You are still occupied with waking properly. Body is stretching from the nights sleep, loosening so you get the flexibility you need to move around for the day. Mind stretches too, reaching for something to ponder, mind often wakes earlier though, never really rests even when asleep, coming up with perhaps the most fantastic thoughts then. So fantastic in fact that they often vanish when you flex it consciously next. All there is left then is a residue, sometimes you get a picture from that other times it’s less than a notion. Same with people, you never get the 'all there is' to them, some bits never make sense, cause your logic works different. Logic is the problem, may even cause conflict, there can never be a normed logic for precisely that reason.
Sliding back in, slowly easing my way there, it’s not what it seems but I make it in the end.
Nonsense, all pure and utter, that's just how it is right now, but it's better than nothing.
Girls always want chocolate and then they moan that they need to lose weight and as they do, they eat chocolate, with little grins of pleasure on their faces.
Been there mate, been there. I remember, I fucked her came over her face, her tits, her arse, her belly, made her swallow. Turned her over and fucked her from behind, dressed her in suspenders and high heels holding her by the ankles spreading those long legs and fucked her that way, whatever it is you do now, you ought to know that it was done before and probably not just by me.
It was a nice thing to say to somebody, especially when you didn’t know them all that well, it made certain you never would.
You would be here or there, and the thing was there was always something that would ask for your attention and abandon the one thing you were trying to achieve. I knew where I wanted to go I just didn’t know how to get there, one thing however was sure sitting and thinking about it wouldn’t get me anywhere, the only way ahead was to make a move.
Thought without notes, may have never achieved a thing.
I liked the long drives alone, along long stretches of empty nowhere, I would listen to tunes from the past which shook me more than I thought they would and all that land just kept growing around me. It made me happy to be alive cause I could feel the land just as much as the land felt me, maybe more. I was happy to see what I saw right then, happy to be where I was as well and given the choice I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
But whatever it is you like to forget or leave behind will come back and creep up on you again and perhaps the more you try to forget something the more it doesn’t go away.
Ideas pop up! Like soap bubbles they vanish quickly.
I drove little further that day somehow saddened by the young woman’s misfortune somehow caught up in my own thoughts, little clouds drifted across big skies, my speed had reduced and led to a constant stream of cars and trucks overtaking me. Like the clouds I was blown about by moods that kept on swinging. I stopped when I passed a motel which exhaled that certain something a traveller on a US highway might be looking for, in this case it was character that lured me.
It had cooled down outside after thunder and rain had gone, but when I reached home the inside of the flat was as humid as it had been all day and the air had the pungent smell of lilies and roses of which I had a big bunch inside. I poured myself a big glass of water and started to flick through TV channels getting stuck now and then when my eye caught something of interest or a naked body that was quick to become clothed again.
Being late is a sign of disinterest they told me, then told me not to come back.
Crackling. Water comes to mind first after some song I listened to more than once, good song and perhaps appropriate for where I was at the time somewhere near an edge and getting ready to fall. A deep fall it would be and I was preparing, but I had fallen before and knew that no matter how much preparation I put into that fall it always hit me like the first time over and again. Hard. Scary that thought always scary, remembering where it had taken me and fearful that it would take me there again. Resolution? None, or at least I couldn’t think of any that would work, just being hopeful helped some, the thought that I would make it in the end was one which spelled repetition and memory didn’t help. How to go about was a new question every time it was asked, was I ever ready to give an answer? I was waiting to get a reply from that question but space remained silent till I broke it again myself. With a crackle of voice, whatever other word would there be to describe the moment I broke the silence, being alone at the time helped some of course. I stretched to reach another beer from the ice bucket next to the chair by the door on which I was sat, I could overlook the road where the occasional car passed and sounds of wilderness mingled with that occasional noise, turning the night into a symphony of silence. Cicadas vibrating their membranes created the backdrop for much of the other noise that could be heard, their volume beyond belief were you to associate it with the size of the animal that produced it, it carried a scent of the warm climate I was travelling through and filled me with delight.
I saw a Japanese girl with a bum, it looked good!
I despise those who do not conform to their identities.
I got quite excited about the way things were starting to turn out and thought that perhaps it was the sun that made everything work out for the better in the end. I guess that had been the reason for me coming back to the place, the sun always worked like a big radiant smile, if you didn’t get bitten by it. It clicked things in my head in a position they should be in and I cleared some of the storage space at the back of the head and buried it symbolically somewhere in the desert where I wouldn’t find it again.
Every bit of life we live takes us further apart.
Water was running down her face, made its way through freckles and dripped from her chin, and she smiled.
He stood tall in small places and was small in wide open spaces.
The taste of a smell combines sound and vision to formulate a memory.
It is up to the young people to safe the planet from the old people.
Trickles again, time does, trickles faster though, faster continuously, like time was running out.
When it gets too serious we got to take a break, is what he said at the beginning, she clung to him with an obsessiveness that made him wish he had a stalker. Had they been swimming both of them would have drowned.
Ok, lets do away with numbers. Big cars spew out more toxins sure, but then they pay more taxes etc. right? That appears to be the argument, but it never addresses what is at stake.
Lets put the big car into a small enclosed space and lets put a small car into a small enclosed space as well. Lets put something else in there with the car, like a cow for example or why not a baby or a child or just a regular person.
Now put the motor on in both cars and watch, it would appear that the regular person in the small enclosed space with the big car passes out before the regular person with the small car does, and that happens even though the big car pays more taxes.
Do the taxes bring the person back?
'Negative,' the doctor says, 'he is gone.'
Big taxes don't safe the environment.