Hey, I hope you had a happy St. Patty's day. I did (see: uncertainty in previous post [see also: Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, because that shit's just wicked cool]).
The hellish finals week has got me all fucked up with sleep, and I'm back to indulging in my nocturnal proclivity. I hope to amend this soon, but without further ado, Amen.
gentleMen, Ladies, indefinitely Confused, I give you my 'POETre reADING reVIEW' (an assigned attendance and write-up of a local reading in which poetry was read [that really turned out to be a "scathing... review" of the worn-through postmodernist literary conventions {intentionally plural, intended as a pun}]) and my 'Æsthetic Statement?' (an assignmeant to reflect and elaborate up/on the "questions, processes, and impulses that underlie the principles or directions of your writing". [which because by the time I began to write it, I'd already written ≈ 9-10 pages of text for about 8-10 hours, it did not as I would wish very consciously, cautiously do this, but together with the accompanying document, may have very well done a satisfactory job of]), both of which were assignments for my now over Poetry class.
Enjoy; fill in the blanks; fulfill your life and yourself

Howdy, y'all! Feliz dia de los remembering the Alamo.
As noted in the post previous, I have been writing more. And my laptop was in the Philippines I believe getting repaired. But now it is back, on my lap, going to work and getting filled with my heady ejaculations--of words, you pervert.
The new wordks you can find, per the uje (/as usual), on the following tab: Walker Jones' Other Works. I don't have everything quite done yet, but I have all I'm going to do tonight and will finish the rest as they come. I just can't help myself with the innuendo...
which tells me I should take a break. Stop. Drop. Roll. Fire. Smoke. Flash. Dance. Voila: a diddy:
[the following was a post on the Seattle newspaper's online personal forum
listen: it was free and sometimes I get lonely, don't we all. so I had fun with it, since I'm so much younger than everyone else, and composed, well, you can read
{N.B. i do believe there will be more of these musicalike things to come.}]

Hey there good evening how ya doing ladies?
I guess you might be on here looking to make some babies
Or just some love, or maybe just to find some
One that's true and not "too good to be"come
"Ya boi"—toy/or/friend—no, wait: what you really want's a man
To make you feel full inside like only he can
And so you scan through strangers online impers
Onals and dime a dozens, your lovelife change is worse
Than it was before you even logged on
And flipped through "ad"s like in a fashion catalogue
On every page, a different mannequin to see
But now you've turned up every last stone and come to me
My stone is rolling, gathering steam up and no moss
I got you scrolling, reading this right? at a loss
Of what to make of
This must be fake, well
Miss you're wide awake, I'll
Pinch you for the sake of proving
I'm real, not complex or even imaginary
I'm oddly radical, makin more waves than a ferry
Or Rick Perry, though I'm sweet as acai berry
In a smoothie, smoother than a Ben & Jerry
Rich as dairy, or extra virgin olive oil
Hot as water heatin up to a rolling boil
And gettin hotta, 'nough to make you recoil
But I play it cool, don't want any turmoil
Just some fun with someone—hey just like you
So listen closely as I tell you what to do:
Just click the button on the left hand side of the screen
And leave a message, don't you worry there's no beep
We can get to talkin, maybe over some coffee beans
About your dog or your life's hopes & dreams
They could come true you
May never know though
Unless you try to
Give a new guy a go
Yo!

I've had these four dialogues (in two sets), but since I haven't had a blog post in a long time, I'll post these that I had a considerably longer time ago.

'Seventh Periodical'

“Hey man, what are we going to do today?” he asked.
“The same thing we do every day, Mike…” he said.
“Shut the,” he interrupted; then paused as he caught sight of the teacher, agitated, expectant. “Look dude, I went down there yesterday. They were real suspicious and I didn’t return it. Can you go get a crossword?” Mike asked.

“What are you doing?” she started.
“Excuse me,” he replied.
“Can I help you?” she rephrased.
“I’m merely seeking guidance from a professional publication. Thank you,” he said and turned towards the dailies.
“Oh, all right. What class are you in?” she asked.
“Advanced Journalism—Newspaper I,” he said.
“I see. Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” she asked.
“A Life, but Arts & Culture will do,” he said as he shuffled through broadsheets.
She stammered. He continued, “I am searching for proper citation of motion pictures in a news story,” as he selected a section of folded paper, folded it once more, and tucked it under his arm.
“Oh, I have something over here that you might,” she began, seeking a book, then abruptly stopped, looking back. He was gone.

'Asunderstanding'

The phone rang. But he’d stopped dropping everything for her. He was on a roll; he was working. And whatever they had wasn’t.
But it was the second time she’d called that night and the nineteenth straight day. He hadn’t told her anything. He’d just stopped answering.
He called her back.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hey,” he answered.
Tactful silence ensued.
“So, why haven’t you been talking to me?” she asked.
“I’ve explained why to you before. I’ve just decided to do it now,” he said.
“You can’t just do that,” she said.
“I already have,” he replied.
“This isn’t fair,” she responded.
“I know it’s not; that’s why I called back,” he said.
“So that’s just it?” she asked.
He affirmed her query, audibly, positively, but unintelligibly.
“You know what this does to me,” she said.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Destroys my trust. I won’t let anyone in. That’s what,” she said.
 “Where are you?” he asked.
“In bed,” she said. “Why?”
“I’ll be there,” he answered.

He explained, “I promised her I wouldn’t leave her life. We cuddled. I offered to go down on her. She said if it didn’t work out with her boyfriend we’d move to Boston and get married.”
“I guess she said no to the oral,” he replied.
“She never said no. She just never said yes, and I wasn’t going to force it,” he said.
“Because that’s rape,” he said.
“Which would have been cool if I’d my Xyrem and we’d had dinner beforehand,” he replied.
“Yeah, if by ‘cool’ you mean felony. But if you’re going to commit a felony, at least you get a mouthful of pussy that way,” he said; “Anyways, I’m glad to hear you’ve reached some level of understanding.”