THIS WEKE: A DREDFUL PREMEONISION

THIS WEKE: A DREDFUL PREMEONISION
a darkenning CLOAKE, most often sene as brown or whhite, desend over the land of the beat - over skid row and down freak alley GRATE blak KLOUDS gather abov the dolls makeshift pied-à-terre a huge KROW land on window sill tap on the pane and squawk "NEVERMORE" o wot is the OKASION of this bleek and trubling xampel of PATHETIC FALASEY?
it is the moament as peots vissioneries starry eyeds ect fere the dredful HOUR hav arived yes it is time yet agane for
the kosmick justice of the skies and shadows
hiss!
yes mi deres it is a fereful BOAR all souls of shambles asemble and point fingers
hello doll how are you dere girl sa the good sir as the doll and her disciples settel and cool breeze of the elite hills of PRIMSORE begin poketing ashtrays clocks xpensive toys and breeze is getting on our nerves, not like that is news to ANYONE nowadays
kan i get you some tea or koffe befor the storm start he sa and we all SHAK OUR SKINS no as breeze has sent promises to us all and filled our heads with DREAMS of brown and white and GLASS but cool breeze stirs not
this is a bit strange as ushually breeze snap his fingers for glamrous sugarpuffs like ANABEL or SUSIE Q or even sometimes the DOLL and they bring us everything our DREAMS DESIRE like drinks and druggs and it is goodnite vienna
to wit the breeze has been awfully FLIGHTLY and making all of us on SKID ROW awfully nervous mostly peopel sa he is SICK wich the doll does not doubt
and then the geezer launch into the DREDFUL TRUTH dere me chapps and dolls i hav nevver known anething like is he sa with ASHEN FACE this city is kolapsing belts titening kut our kloth akordingley trimm out the FAT
and with that a rudey faced bloke burst thruough the doors he shout O ILL DIVINING BREEZE YOU ARE A COMIN WITH ME
and so it is that the doll and her disciples, the DEAD with STARS fer EYES find themselfs looking out the window at a RANE SOAKED breeze on the corner of ______________ and ________________ klutching ABSOLUTELY NUFINK, not even his DIGGINITY, worth less than £5 plus the wate of his TRIBULATIONS aganst the doll pushing down upon him
kan it be the good breeze is all alone?
sumwhere in a nabering drugden the apauling rotter stare out on the sky and think of the doll and he begin to HOWL....

clouds

Rows and flows of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
I've looked at clouds that way

Moons and junes and ferris wheels
The dizzy dancing way you feel it
As every fairy tale comes real
I've looked at clouds that way

But now they only block the sun
They rain and snow on everyone
So so many things I could've done
But clouds

Angeldust gets in your eyes your hair
On acid stars your getting there
My bodys assembled into
A little itty bitty gift to you
When you die I've looked at life that way

But now it's just another show
You leave 'em laughing when you go
So so don't let them inside, don't let them know
Don't give yourself away

But now my friends are acting strange
They shake their heads man they say I've changed
well Well something's lost; rearranged
I've looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
I'ts just illusions I recall

the book of kat

which is more or less the scripture of the kat
part XXI
now came to pass the days when the doll was more difficult than usual and could even pass as the new shorthand for 'drug-addled vagabond.' she was feral, sharp-tongued and always on edge. no, she wasn't on edge, she was over the edge. the doll, despite what her wise lion had forewarned, had been up and out smoking foilies with the one person you're not supposed to do foilies with. she had blackened fingertips, the indelible ink of a deadbeat. she was in the mindset of a ____________ and you cannot simply turn that off like tap. beseeched by the sugary sweet breeze, she ______-ed, having been up all night, after creeping around primitive arcadian glades and all things lovely. he led her, by hand and foot, then and there, to the glasshouse from which none who enters ever returns, down the road from which there is no coming back. and she wallowed, upon hazy realization, as she was underneath a veil of disco dust, where she stood, 'i'm hurt.'
and then the parasitic breeze shook his skull and wept, 'no, you're not, i'm hurt more.' sensing the doll was deigning to bite her tongue, the greay lion of skid row stepped forth and dropped a bushel of curses upon him. 'o ill-divining breeze of the hills, who is vicious and self-loathing, keep your distance. you have angered the doll, and in turn, angered the skies. for, your treason against the doll is enough to send you to the ninth circle of hell. if you do not heed my warning and continue playing the doll as if she were a game of cards, as if she doesn't see through us all, surely you will perish.'
cool breeze, having not really thrown caution to any cautionings in the past, listened very carefully and did not look amused. this is probably because he is cancerous. what he did not understand, though, is the doll's sweethearted nature. and, finally, after enough time had passed, he joined the doll's side. as she was seated on her thrown of ______________, lion on her left, breeze on her right; the shadows spoke, whispering something along the lines of, 'do not fret, good doll, for i will look after you and call you baby.' after all, there were days and nights to be enjoyed as never before.
looking to her disciples, she purred, 'après nous, le deluge.'



*after us, the flood.

the book of kat

which is more or less the scripture of the kat
part XX
now came to pass the days when there was a great wake throughout the city - from the elite hills of primrose all the way to down an' out alley, back to skid row and all the hidden albion glades inbetween. the doll had been up all hours, looking about thirty shades of mess; walking into streetsign posts and that - she was beat. she was hanging around a lot of bad types, see. a lot of mean people, a lot of nutters. to wit, the skies cast a terrible storm, one of which having sent forth all the little cruel-tongued crabs and ill-willed snakes of which the doll, being a bird of the day, did not appreciate. sugarcakes did not deserve to be beguiled as such and commanded the up aboves to look after her and remove her from the ground thus, as she would surely be ripped wing from wing. she asked, begged and pleaded to be put back in the sky where she belonged and therefore withdrawn from those who had said, thought and acted out against her. 'now i bid you all,' she was above them now, 'lose me and find yourselves; and only when you have all denied me will i return to you.'

THIS WEKE: THE GOSPELL AKORDING TO THE DOLL

THIS WEKE: THE GOSPELL AKORDING TO THE DOLL
on okasion the up aboves pause to wonder at the trajektory of the GRATE MUSE and unrekwited OBJEKT OF FUCKERY, yours truly ms dollface the KAT.
now it is a modern spell is it not i mene ther is nevver a qiet moment for the star krost twiglet bomshel perhaps i did something teribel in a past life i do certainly hav the hair for it
this weke howefer hav surpast even KATS ushual standads of katastrofer AS YOU WIL SEE
firstley she apere around evry dark corner smoking and doing all sorts of powdery drugs going YAR BOO i like drugs LET ME LIVE wots this streetpost doing here hav i gon MENTAL?
i the doll is sorely confused as to wot events i mene i hav grate LUVS for all things fun xpecally the BROUN and abit of the WITE to wake you up in the morning times hem hem and thrice hem
howefer KLOSER XAMINASION revele the truth the wobely from late last yere is the doing of the dredful parasitik wede cool sniveling snake the breez pore me he sa stone me i sa an so it goes. he then advise m,e to play anover brefe voluntary note on the GLASS TROMBONE an tel secerets to the one purrson you shuld really think twice about teling secerets to
one hopes the dredful winjing roter got a good few bob for betraying the luverley hem hem sweeter than SUGAR hem hem grashious most hem ewer in the world in space
this bring us to the SEKOND devvelopment in the kontinueing SOPE OPERA that is kats life.
TO WIT: the pathetic breez hav been appointed to the high CORT of the skies as one of the two having kept a steady cash FLOW. if caught doing anyfing BAD they wil surely punish him thus;
'...10000000 years in the CHOKEY take him awa from her i onley wish libberal do gooders hav not robbed her of the ULTIMET SANKTION the city hav known of you for awhile nd i shuold fondley wish to see him pump his nockers and singe a song of sixpence...'
but it is all in VANE as the wimpering COOL BREEZE is being draged away the doll will howl in the tradisional maner and her eyes will meet his akross the way O DARLING DOLL KAN YOU EVER LUV A ROTTER LIKE ME they seem to say xept one eye is looking at her and the other is looking for her and she's no CHARM herself she had a small 'LIVENER' seek disco dust on the way and she is totally QATER TO THREE but he peresevers
now with a hevy HART the doll lowers her eyes and turn away...

THIS WEKE: THEY SED I HAD TO PLAY WITH THE CARDS I WAS DEALT; I SED NO NO....OH OK THEN

THIS WEKE: THEY SED I HAD TO PLAY WITH THE CARDS I WAS DEALT; I SED NO NO....OH OK THEN
sometimes the doll wonder dejektedley is she is the last person on ERTH sides the wise of lions of perspective who hav a clue wot is going on i mene everbode apere to be kompleatley off their CHUMPS these days.
TO WIT:
this weke the undergroun WORLD ov the TREES diskover that infektious paresite and lifer from the ELITE HILLS of PRIMSORE cool breeze hav babeyshabled the sweet LEMONPOP yet agane
as of LATE he has advanced and SURPRISE SURPRISE stomped all over the doll GOOD HEVENS stone me wot wos he thinking such a TERIBEL desison is an absolut FOOL eror BOO HISS he is a roter hang him the luverly sugarbird tried her hardest
thus the unfortunat breeze has kised goodby to any life on EASEY STRETE (not skid row) spending doll royelties from her preshious word. so for the ILL-STARED breze it is ure dead to me you creep i wash my hands of you cheeres and kis kis;
'...o derest darling pass me a drink i hav jus spent hours chassing DRAGONS o sunshine i am feeling at my wurst wot shold i do? o doll is ther somthing bovering you surly if ther wos anyfing i culd do to make you HAPEY it would be my plesure but first i will need a PARP or TWELVE off the leggendery GLASS TROMBONE of korse.
this is no news to anyone they are well awar of how good an NICE an grashious the doll has been i am abel to revele his PUNISHMENT will be rather DRAKONIAN as you will see chiz chiz...
"in the event that this COOL BREZE character send the GOOD DOLL to a mental BRAKEDOWN to wit the apauling flyblown toe rag CREEP mr. breez shal be entitled to the FOLOWING from the partey of the FIRST PART to wit the deliteful hem hem BEATIFUL hem hem X 100000 sensasion and monster, MS DOLLFACE:
1.) one bag fizzy candies
2.) one siley mess of poetery about oluv trees and brakin glas and that
3.) 'luverly dust' (twice the size of a pea on DOWN an OUT alley)
apart from the KOSMIK JUSTIC that shal desend upon his shoulders, ABSOLUTELY 0, nofink, squat."
the doll is sure you will agre this is KRUEL BUT FARE.

the book of kat

which is more or less the scripture of the kat
part XIX
now came the days and more recently nights, when the doll pointed up to the sky and commanded; 'there are all sorts of snakes slithering 'bout my ankles and i do not appreciate it. no good deed goes unpunished, i can dig that - but i will not be made a fool of. and if that's what this breeze,' she said, swirling the air like cotton candy with her fingertip, 'then he will surely pay until his last breath. put bank on it.'
and then, like a clap, it was all over. she opened her big, glassy, doll eyes and everything was ok. she even heard the smallest noise, which was described as being like that of 'shadows flashing' and it sounded something along the lines of; 'boo hiss - hanging is too good for him, he is a rotter - we discard him.' one day, a long long time ago, the doll knew this breeze of who the shadows, skies, winds, moons, up aboves, thunder and people spoke of. once. a long time ago.
one day she was the last person left who could possibly speak on his behalf and so she said; 'this cool breeze character you speak of is no more. believe you me, he is a creep. there are people in this world that will not hurt you, i have found, and i like to call them corpses. if he is anything now, he is a corpse to me, because he is forgotten to me and therefore no longer in a position to cause hurt unto your humble narrator, the good doll. i did call on to him once, though. i bid him to lose me and find himself; and only when he had denied me would i return unto him. i will warn you, aside from a fetching bruised ego on a sweet angel, this doll denied him. 'i will be no one's caged bird.' and then she purred, 'o, i have an ill-divining soul. i can see him clearly, below me, as one dead in the bottom of a tomb: the house of breeze, truly that is a name that holds absoultely no value with me. he hath burnt his last bridge.'
and someone, someone who she knew of, spoke of and thought often of but had never seen, stepped out of the crowd, lit a cigarette and with heavy-lidded eyes gave her a nod and a wink, saying, more or less; 'doll, sweet doll who is gracious and kind and understands many great things, i was you once. i was the lonely. why they choose to be afraid of you is beyond me. you're just a bird. what's so scary about a goddamn bird?'
and after he said that, she realized he was a charmer and let the honey flow forth. 'if only he knew how long i had waited for him - how the way he speaks could take away my storm, he'd probably call the cops and get a restraining order.' she looked at the sky and then to the shadows. 'as much as i hate myself, i hate him more. and as much as i hate my life, i hate his too - i just can't seem to teach myself to ignore him. he is that cool breeze who drives me crazy, he's the one who gives me the looks like save me and as of late; he is that one creep who, for his sake, should keep his distance until i calm down again.' and her charmer glittered and told her she was an absolute sweetheart and didn't deserve this as she was too precious. and she didn't ever have to worry about getting hurt by him anymore.

the only good doll

is a drunk doll on drugs
thief
mess
junkie
menace
charmer
artist
this is why she matters
the good doll hasn't slept for a week. she's snorting cocaine through rolled-up pages of french poetry. she thinks her shadow is a ghost. it's just another day in the life.
DUSK IS FALLING over the southen and the hazy neon lights of the penny arcades lend the esplande an out-of-season melancholy. the doll's motorcar, her on-again off-again home is parked, besieged by snakes. inside, it's like a 50s boudoir: scarlet leatherette seats trimmed with white piping, velvet curtains, a bottle of champagne on ice. in the wake of the furor following the secret spying of the doll doing drugs, drugs and more drugs; there's an edgy, paranoid atmosphere. earlier, she, her lion and her moon, the one with the bones, ordered people off and it's unclear whether anyone is welcome or not.
events unfold like a surreal film. she appears from the end of an alley, dressed in all black and stares wildly: 'goodness gracious, stone me, o look at this moon tonight it is ripe my mates, ripe indeed.' she is hallucinating. she hasn't slept for four days and nights. she eventually calms herself and acts prison-movie cool, rigid with uncertainty. the silence is horrible.
she is due to speak more words than you can shake a stick at, but the star doll is clearly off the pretty little head of hers. to boot, her 'baby' is as well and has no care in the world for anyone but himself. 'chiz, chiz,' is all the doll says. her lion is just drunk enough.
for the last few months, over the summer, the doll was one of the most talked about sweethearts in the city, mostly for reasons that have nothing to do with her writings. sweeping from the elite hills of primrose to skid row and all the way to down and out alley and back again before she'd give up, that doll would. thus, she is the 'sucrerie gâtée.' then she found a breeze who knew a thing or two about 'parps off the glass trombone' if you can dig what i'm saying. she's been arrested, caught red-handed and most recently, having finished an "exposé" on taking cocaine at an underground session in west _____________town, has been most cruely become the shorthand for 'drug-addled deadbeat'. (which, she spat, were merely 'snakes hissing.')
the doll has been demonised to the extent that people outside the hep would are surprised to learn that that 'blonde junkie dame' was a prodigy, even taken under the wing of french council to recite her poetry.
in earlier times, she talked animatedly of arcadia ('the clearing in the brambles we're trying to reach') and albion (her thougful, semi-mythical city). she came across as an intelligent and original thinker and her inspirations - rimbaud, oscar wilde, james joyce, william blake, kerouac, withnail and i - an impeccable jumble of high and low. here, too, was a talented writer, able to juxtapose rich cultural detail and almost-too-painful confessional. de nos jours de toute façon.
however, over the past few months, attitudes to kat steadily shifted. admirers have wearied of the relentless struggles, while old mates profess to missing the outgoing dreamy cupcake who'd turn up on people's doorsteps with freshly cut flowers. those days seem long gone.
she stokes up her own myth well enough. as if on cue, she picks up a battered copy of poet under saturn, marcel coulon's 1932 biography of dissolute french poet paul verlaine, tears out the frontispiece and uses it to snuffle a fat line of coke while one of the shadows in the back speaks, '...she's like the living dead spending all those pounds daily. she's like a zombie. she's self-centered and cruel-tongued. she's docile, sleeping all the time - because she's so loaded. she's paranoid, skint and difficult. and it's all his fault. she would say, 'i'm hurt' and he would say, 'no, you're not, i'm hurt more'. there really does seem to be no peace for the wicked, doesn't there?
ripping out a sheet of aluminum foil, the doll said quietly, 'i wish i were smarter. this hard shit's for the birds. you can't get comfortable and you sweat and you're boiling hot. you pour with sweat. and your nose dribbles and then all of a sudden, you get the colds. and the sweat turns to fucking ice on you. and you put a jumper on and then you're boiling hot again. and then you get cold again. like you just can't win. and you lie down and that's not comfortable. so you sit up and that's not comfortable. it just drives you insane...'
and before you know it, you're spun.

THIS WEKE: MERCURY POISENING

THIS WEKE: MERCURY POISENING
KRASH FLASH SHOVE PUSH ooer ouch xcuse me yore standing on my hed OI DOLL OVER HEAR come on spotey giv us a grin you mite be ded this time next yere FLASH POP BASH groo urgh stomp stager QUICK LADS SWEET PEACHES HAV WALLKD INTO ANOVVER STREETSIGN post stampead kruch HELOO GORGUSH MA I SEE PROOF YOU AR WHO YOU SAY YOU AR? o dere o dere i seme to hav misplaced it will some FIZZY SAUCERS bootlace make do?
yes it is the HORID SKRUM wich suroud yur humble doll who hav braved the DISCUSTING THRONG of roten pigey eyed SNAKES to repport on the CELEBBRASIONS for her royal redership stone me wot a LIFE me deres.
why do they BOTHER hem hem and thric hem.
so i klere the hubub in the famoush continental RIOT HOUSE in famous SKID ROW to witness the FEASTIVITES the kreme of the krop hovver.
i wus floting at libbertey and DISKONEKTED from the krude mater of our DALEY XISTENCE doll will find herself proan to RELFEKSION. who are we? wot are we doing? where are we goeieing and wot will we find when we get there? will there be some raspbheryy bootlace and 'sunderies' IT MAKE ONE THINK.
at wich point i feel drawn to a STRANGE WORLD WITHOUT ROOLS i beleve i hav just dyed it is verrey sad.
and would it be so teribel? to sa FARWELL To this vale of opaites day in day out no more dredfuel harasament by the rotters like no more o doll hav you stopped with the pick you ups the last time didnot do too clever no more useless chiseing no more getting the babeyshabels once over no more 3AM no more just eternel pece and QIET in the kompaney of the GRATE THINKERS?
it do apere we were BORN TO SUFFER

the book of kat

which is more or less the scripture of the kat
part XIII
now came the days when there was no peace for the wicked - which meant there was especially no peace for the neighborhoods of the elite hills of primrose, skid row and so on and so forth. there was also no peace for the doll's mind. many a night did she stay up, sometimes for no reason at all. finally, one day, she heard word that her one and only the cool breeze in the flesh was trapped in a cage and practically on display. the doll, who at times can be a straight up grouch if she's seen a little of the white or even the brown; however, at this time she was feeling exceptionally worried and so she made no haste. cool breeze was more than fulfilled when he realized which sugarpop was standing on his front porch because it was the sugarpop, the one and only. by this time, though, her feet were bare, cut and bloodied. she stopped and said, 'here i go - telling secrets to the one person you're not supposed to tell secrets to,' handing him her words over and found the nearest floor to take sleep. once she had, cool breeze began to read, "this doll has written this, having been up all night, after climbing the pyramid of the sun (la pyrimida de la sol) and at times i find myself wondering about astrology, i don't know how many you people belive in it, but i am a capricorn - the most philosophical of all the signs. but i don't buy into it, i think it's a bunch of bullshit, myself. but i will tell you this, i don't know what will happen, so i wanna have my kicks before the whole shithouse goes up in flames..." and by that time she had woken up, snatched it real quick out of his hands and cursed him beyond belief. she took it back, of course. there are sunflowerlions to think of.

come and party with us

and everything seemed to be going so well. i suppose it's because i've been so out of my mind lately, it makes me practically useless as a woman. it makes me think horrible and not even dare to speak it, which is the worst. these are the breaks, doll. it seems like just yesterday when i was shouting and laughing with the pure, hateful, bloodthirsty joy. if i keep holding out like this things will get really nasty. but i won't get tired. and i won't crack. i've done some dumb things. and seeing as how he's one of those dumb things, he shouldn't give me such a hard time. but sometimes he does. and for a hot minute i gave him the hard goodbye. and he didn't really like that. a couple nights plucked out he stared at a goddess and he didn't waste time wondering how he got so lucky. i smelled like angels out to smell and i was the perfect woman...i was golden. i could be mistaken but i do believe i left him more dead than alive. he made me hate myself. i suppose we gave each other a taste of his own medicine. then again, i'm just warming up.

the book of kat

which is more or less the scripture of the kat
part XII
now came the days when the breeze blew harder and stronger and faster and dare she say cooler than it once had not days before. it was also around this time when the doll enlisted help due to the fact that she was incapable of helping herself. and one day, when she out of her mind, he went into her palace to attend to her, and no one was inside. she caught him by his cloak and said, 'come lay awhile...just for a minute...it'll make us feel close...' this was not like her. on the other hand, he was intrigued. and then she continued. it was most likely due to the suffering that was inflicted during the siege - even the most gentle and sweetest of dolls will have no compassion on her own self and the worst part is there's not a damn thing anybody can do about it. even the most loveliest doll among wolves and snakes and lions - so premium that she would not venture to touch the ground with the sole of her foot - will begrudge the circus and inflict distress on you in your cities if you let her. if you do not carefully follow all the words that pour from her lips, you will be cursed until you are destroyed. you, who were as numerous as the stars in the sky will be left but few in number, because you did not obey. because the doll is good and sweet and kind, she has been known to look the other way when things are so terrible and look like they're getting worse. in the mornings you will say, 'if only it were evening,' and in the evenings you will say, 'if only it were the morning,' because of the terror that will fill your hearts and the sights that your eyes will see. this has happened once and she still hasn't quit yet. her cool breeze was once blowing steadily and then, out of nowhere, it stopped altogether. this she did not like. but, after some time passed and some punishments were lifted - the doll got exactly what she set out for - a few words. and before she knew it, things were ok again. one dusk, while the sun was running faster and faster, weather so fine a dozen angels could dance atop a pinhead - the doll sat with her breeze and breathed, 'i always tell them, never take it seriously. if you never take it seriously, you never get hurt. and if you never get hurt, you always have fun. you're never lonely when you're having fun.' it was then and there once she spoke those words that she realized she had neither said too much or too little, but just enough. and so she shut her lips like cherubs, put down her rocks and settled back in her glass house. and after a little time went by, she could touch him. and then she could lie by him. and then she could lie on him. and then she could kill him. and then she could kiss him. and then she could talk to him. and then she could calm him. and then he could calm her. and then he could help her.

the book of kat

which is more or less the scripture of the kat
part XI
now came the days when the doll did many substances and never did leave a single one out. she had many friends. she had all sorts of friends. crushed 'uns, powdery silky 'uns; but the ones she loved the most, were the ones she called 'illies,' and they made her act all sorts of funny. her eyes would become bigger than the moon and darker than the sky and she would grin from ear to ear, but not grin like she was happy - grin like she was plotting her out and had no thoughts of letting you in on it. with a flow so cold chicken soup wouldn't help. but no one, and dollface herself would even agree, or at least acknowledge that there was no one quite as cool, not cold mind you, as the one up on the edge of the primrose hill, cool breeze. he was the one you loved to hate. and so one day, upon taking the advice of her most wise and powerful lion, and with a hint or two from the shadows, she decided that the best way to rid herself of an enemy was to make him her friend. and you want to know the funny thing? he apologized. right to her face. right in front of the doll's batting lashes. this was something she did not expect. and so she took a breath and before the sugar could pour from her lips and onto the air, the wind picked up. and so she whispered, not drew honey, 'let me go. you know, i am a lady. and a lady always knows when to leave.' in case you were wondering, he was not done with the doll and there was not a damn thing she could do about it.

build me up build me down

sometimes i'll stop and wonder just exactly what's going on. or going wrong, again, in my case. this would be another night in a row where i'm just sitting wondering about things. i'm not sad, not mad - not anymore - just confused. a little cross between the two. i feel like a trick, but you know how that store goes. it's like i let ryan in and now that i think about it - it drove me crazy. but it was the craziness that kept me coming back for more. and then things went sour. and now the whole 'first girl in awhile' is shot to shit. and now when i see justin and jessica i'd rather be in my grave. but you know the worst? when i see ryan. and when he's nice to me. and when i'm nice to him. that leaves me more dead than alive, for what it's worth. when he's done creepin' he'll come crawlin' and that's when a storm will be a-comin' and this doll's simple pleasures shall be restored.

the book of kat

which is more or less the scripture of the kat
part X
now came the days when the moon was big. the moon was full and big and yellow. and there was a full ring around the moon. so this bird searched until she found her promised talisman with the crowns and the crabs and the locks and keys. and when people realized there were troubling times - they all began to worry too. and then came a time when dollface would hide because she herself was troubled too. but those times were tried and true and usually didn't last very long. a couple days passed and a couple weeks passed and the doll blossomed beautifully. she was not reminded and she was most definitely not forgotten. she was talked about. they would say, 'i remember a man who met a woman, don't remember where - she had big beautiful eyes and light blonde hair. she was from the elite skid row end and he was from the primrose hills. now, this was back when things were still done easy. two different worlds apart, but the world is just a small town - we all know how the people like to get down...' and mostly they would end it like that. and then again sometimes they wouldn't. they wouldn't end anything at all.

the book of kat

which is more or less the scripture of the kat
part IX
now it came to pass the days when the city's doors and windows were all boarded and shut up - for the days to come. these days, of which the people suffered, never did come. and this is only because the doll, scraggily and lightfooted, was too nice. and as hours, which felt like mere moments, fled from the sun, the doll remained where she sat. no one touched her. no one talked to her. no one even moved. all was still. all was quiet. all was good. and then, as she flinched, a breath could be heard; "...you can't get comfortable and you sweat and you're boiling hot. you pour with sweat. and your nose dribbles and then all of a sudden, you get the colds. and the sweat turns to fucking ice on you. and you put a jumper on and then you're boiling hot again. and then you get cold again. like you just can't win. and you lie down and that's not comfortable. so you sit up and that's not comfortable. it just drives you insane..."

the book of kat

which is more or less the scripture of the kat
part VIII
now it came to pass the days when the doll couldn't understand just why she cared so much. that and she also couldn't wrap her head around just why she was so damn nice. and, the worst thing was, most of the garbage kat wrote was centered on skid row, on the edge of the primrose hills - with cool breeze and the lions - the acidheads. and this garbage was eaten up by all of the people. so the doll, once she had 'disinfected herself from that creep,' thought herself above it. but everyone knew. she tried to run - she tried to hide. and one night, she could hide no longer. one night, a fading star whom the doll would rather be caught dead with than stick in her pocket, could have sooner slapped our sweet and humble baby babble. so she was out of there like a flash. she had sad eyes, but it was only because she knew better. and to the stars and only the stars, maybe the night sky as well, she whimpered, in between sobs, "o how i wish i were smarter, forget the what happened, i got stuck. my hurt and my hunger murders me in and out. no, no, i am not ok." and this was straight truth the doll spit. she could do nothing less and nothing more. she needn't be reminded, but, alas she was. and here we are. no wind was blowing. the moon was gaining weight in the sky, with heavy bags. things were in bloom. although dwindling, you could find what you were looking for if you looked hard enough for it. the kat expected some sort of slack to be given but by now too much time, the cruel mistress of all, had ran away and so if slack was to be given it would have been given a lot longer. so the doll began to stay in and withdraw. things went sour. it was not like before where maybe someday things would be ok - our blossom had dug herself a pit a mile deep and a foot wide with nothing but a pinhole for the sky and she could do nothing but dream of getting out. it took forever and a day. but she kept wishin' and hopin' and dreamin' - and one night, when she was feeling exceptionally down, a shadow fell over her shoulders - over her mind - and whispered, 'good things. in this place, where it is good and bad, life has a funny way of working itself out. and if you let it, o sweet doll, o kat of such generous nature who should be seated up high with crowns upon crowns, i will give you nothing more than what you deserve.' wiping her eyes with shaky hands, the doll allowed herself to get low just so she could get high.

the book of kat

which is more or less the scripture of the kat
part VII
now it came to pass the days when the doll was up at all night, all hours, all
the time. and it wouldn't stop. everyone would sit at her feat and say
things like, 'curses, curses good doll, why don't you just lie down for
a little bit and maybe try a disco nap - you are beginning to look more
and more ready for the grave day by day,' or, 'get her another drink
she is beginning to look vividly striking.' one time, the doll did take
another drink. and another and another and another and on her last one
she said, 'just another drink - pip, pip! i have not bled this house
dry yet,' even though in all truths of the word, she had. so, to put a
stop to it, the people tracked down a cool breeze and set him before
her. and he did not know what to do. the doll always did, but she was
off her head, see? so, he dug deep, and no, this time it was not about
trees or ghosts, 'you do seem like a pretty nice girl, but you don't
have a lot to say; i do feel that i should tell you i love you a lot,
but first, a bellyful of wine. someday, doll, you will be mine and i will be yours.'

the book of kat

which is more or less the scripture of the kat
part VI
now it came to pass the days when kat would catch falling stars and put them in her pocket. it was also getting to the point where things were no fun anymore. cool breeze had long since let the water run down her back and one night whimpered unto the wind, 'you have left me more dead than alive, o still point of the turning world.' things had returned to normal. back to ok. the day turned into afternoon and the afternoon into night. first came the drinks. then came the sound of wind, a rushing that was decided later it must have been caused by her mind escaping. she fell fast. adding to her loveliness was a new mysterious private suffering perfectly silent, visible in the blue puffiness beneath her eyes or the way the doll would sometimes wander, aimlessly. drunk and kissing the night sky, or smoking too many cigarettes, she was bound for a time without the fear. it could be friday evening, sunday in the afternoon - tuesday morning. one of those days, a cool breeze caught her. caught her right while she was spinning. while she was spun. he said, 'will you come see me thursday and saturdays?' if she didn't he promised her that if she went calling for him, the next day or forth, she would find him a grave man. so, to this the doll conjured up her strength and let the honey roll off of her tongue and into the air; 'razors pain you, rivers are damp - acid stains you and drugs cause cramps; guns aren't lawful - nooses give - gas smells awful, you might as well live.'

the book of kat

which is more or less the scripture of the kat
part V
now it came to pass the days when the doll didn't give much of a fuck.

the book of kat

which is more or less the scripture of the kat
part IV
now it came to pass the days when the doll was very conflicted and at most times, unsettled. one of her lions, in an offer of great respect, bowed her head and left cards at the doll's feet. and so she began to use these cards. playing with them as they were dealt, you understand. one day, however, the clouds in the sky were mixed and air thick and hot, hotter than the street even. the cards never once did lie. so, why would they lie today? as the doll was walking and thinking this and many other things, she could see in the distance a cool breeze blowing. and so when he appeared, kat, in a practically unfathomable display of generosity, gave him the slightest of nods. the nod was returned, but not how she wanted it. now, was it the intention of this bird to insult the doll, or did he just fail to see the generous social gesture? his motives remain unknown. the next morning kat appeared at the foot of the hill, with the sun to her back and demanded to speak with him and to repay the insult. this cool breeze character at first tried to console the doll, only to find the doll was inconsolable. and little did quickdraw breeze know that this little dollybird was only playing possum, due to the fact she was impervious to his bullets. she said; 'i am pervious to your bullets, sugar,' and so he only naturally replied, 'get back to playing possum, dollface.' and so she did and so he did and so it goes and so it goes.

standing on the board
board is on the wheels
wheels are on the ground
zoomin round and round

the doll

the book of kat

which is more or less the scripture of the kat
part III
now it came to pass the days when there was a fresh air blowing on the east side of the hills, right beside the city. the doll could feel it before anyone. a certain someone, who had more or less blown it, began to come 'round. and so she put both hands up to the sky and closed her eyes. she then said, 'for those who wish ill on this cool breeze blowing, they will answer to me. although he has wronged me, he has apologized moreover. if i hear one hair on his head is touched, things will become very terrible for you.' she said this to no one in particular. and so under her wing cool breeze stayed. and one night, when all was dark and all was still and all was quiet, she heard him whimper, 'i am sorry,' and she was steaming. she purred; 'entreat me not to leave thee: for whither thou goest, i will go; and where thou stay, i will stay: thy people shall be thy people and thy loves shall be thy loves.' her breeze broke down after hearing this and told the doll why he was edgy so. 'i can see myself in the tomb now,' he cried, 'wide-eyed and just waiting for the dirt to seal my fate.' after hearing this, she demanded his freedom unto the skies. and the doll gets what she wants.

THIS WEKE: PRISENER SELL BLOCK C AND I DO MENE "C"

THIS WEKE: PRISENER SELL BLOCK C AND I DO MENE "C"
nite falls upon the unfortunat inmates of primrose hill's albion jale lesser known of WORMWORD SCABS the air is rent with terible CRIES i.e. 3 across 3 leters rimes with bat k something t wot do you THINK or help help mr barrowcluough FLETCHER hav nicked my RAZOR or shhh the lovely VERITEY SHARP is on r3 she hav an xclusive session from the JIPSEY KINGS and maney similar hartrendering things also a tiney mouse scamper along hallways a bag of the ol SKY BLACKY in its scrawnie jaws A LOANLEY WIND howls through the craked windoes or is it just sellmate 23943284 fortherington-tomas blubering for his mater like a GURL i suspekt the latter.
yes sosiety hav agane consined cool breeze to JALE.
wot is a chapp to do wen faced agane and agane with the deprivasion of his personal LIBERTINES? wen the self apointed gardians of TRUTH and JUSTISE were the tawdey mask of HIPOCRISEY? and wen he hav been sampeling the old glass trumpet over the foil off and on purely in the interests of kreative XPLORATION and as a result the litmus tin burst into FLAME wen dipped into the old cup this is qite a site i can asure you they should hav it on tomorrows WORLD.
ANEWAY it is a VEXING CONUNNDRUM.
one do lern a grate deal about the FUTILITE of the sistem wen on finds oneself on the revolving DOOR of the CORTS for instence how come abit of coke cost 2 pkts of lambers and butler inside but £25 on SKIDDY ROW we shouold all go to jale reely is save a lot of mesing.
also how come the papers sa the country is PLAGED by nonces flashers beatears nutters etc but wen in nick everbode sa they are ther for none payment of COUNCIL TAX somthing ort to be done.
however let us look on the BRITE side. cool breeze hav bene sentenced to a fortnight or to wich in practise mene 7 then with good behavour 5 then nock off 2 for inconveneience 2 for time spent waiting for trial 3 becos cool breeze is a looker and get special tretement and BINGO! in the bank CHEERS CHEERS.
taxi to fashionabel shortditch or mayb even PRIMROSE HILL for a special 'release partey' for three i.e. the doll, her breeze and their grate mate GOLDON BROUN. and ther we shal hav the TIMES of or LIVES.

THIS WEKE: A FREND IN NEDE IS A FREND INDEED

THIS WEKE: A FREND IN NEDE IS A FREND INDEED
i arsk you gentel reders wot is WORSE than a new BEST MADE eh? one minute you are mear AQANTANCES on the busey circuit of life. a cherey hullo here a quick NOSE UPP there and perhapps some CAUSAL SEXUAL INTECORSE when yor paths cross i.e. under the moon and stars in rehabb or behind binns at the DALSTON SWEETS SHOP.
five minuits later and sudenly you are ON CALL 24 SEVEN o doll i hav run out of gere o doll i am in jale i need a CUDEL o doll i hav lost the SKY PLUS REMOAT perhaps it is somewhere in yer behive o doll i am sad how about a PARP on the old GLASS TROMBONE eh?
IT GO ON FOREVER AND FEELS LUVLY CHIZ CHIZ.
yes you hav guest it since street sensasion COOL BREEZE hav enterd my social CIRCEL there hav bene no peace for the wicked i.e. your felow suffererr kat.
BRRRRING!! BRRRRING! go the fathful tele o doll come and see me it is the PINACEL i nede you and donot forget the 'sunderies' pip pip.
i put £3 pounds on OISTER CARD then TRECK down to the northeast side of the city to see him stumble round like a newborn GIRAF crying and slurring i mene he realy was all over the shop also the doll DEDICAIT every hit to the dredful graspeing wede COOL BREEZE wich make everyone go boo hiss hanging is too good for him he is a roter we diskard him and this make him cry even more. this the DOLL did NOT liek.
TO CAP IT ALL wen i venture to oofer my words of wisdom hem hem i am AKOSTED by the moon who sa he is not done with me yet wot a larf i repli and point to him who is hoovering up all the 'NASAL BEER' like ther is no tomorrow wich in her case ma be true an quikly moved to foiles. at this i wack him in the GOB and turf out onto the COLD STRETES.
all this EFORT and i donot even get a BLOWIE is there no DESENSY LEFT?
2 days later BRRRING!! BRRRING! o doll i am leaving and nevr coming bak to this creul place get yorself round here sharpish and donot forget the PICK ME UPS. it is 4am in the morning but a frend in nede you kno the rest so off i go. CHEZ BRISE turn out to be a swag ponk a bit coo ur gosh cuough cuough.
it do not take long for all he owns is a give me al yer trees full of blackie moons an awful lot of SILVER PAPER and 100000000000 binbags full of empty canns.
as we travel thruough the strets of the east and i atempt to cover the teribel STANES on my trousers with a copey of baby baby baby maggazine he turn to me and WHIMPER...
'doll,' he sa, 'i'm not done wif you yet...'
with a hevy HART this doll lower her eeys an her hands begin to shhake....

all night and all morning

there once was a doll. and this doll was like none other. she was blonde, fair and sweeter than sugar. this doll had many people always around her but once summertime struck, it didn't seem so. she had an itch and it couldn't be scratched. 'till one night. it was stormy out, but you couldn't tell because it was so dark - and she was in the best of moods. unbeknownst to cool breeze, the man who eventually fit her fancy, she was trouble. then again, so was he. they were both trouble. the only time they weren't in trouble was when they were together. at first they were together a lot. and then, surely but slowly, the gaps grew farther and farther. and cool breeze started fucking up more and more, even going as far to hurt the doll in real live life. at first she thought it was her, but alas, no siree bob, it was him. he was born with all sorts of problems, in and out. it's horrible to say, but the truth usually is. then, on this stormy dark night, for no reason at all, cool breeze burst into a fit of tears. a damn puddle he was. and the only person who wanted to listen was the same person he hurt in the first. but you know what she did? the doll sucked it up and gave him all the strength she could, because he was going to need it. and you know what he did? even though he didn't say it, he was all sorts of glad on the inside. and you know what the stars said? 'he ain't done with you yet little sweets, don't think that for one minute.'

la belle et le bad boy

what a strange night have i! after hearing word that cool breeze, ryan, was caught by his big bad bone daddy smokin' foilies, aka cocaine, his probation officer was called. and you know the news is not good. he knew he was going to jail at, well, right now - ten o'clock on this beautiful morning. now, as we all remember quite painfully clearly, the last time he was going to jail he just wanted to 'condition himself' aka fuck that frumpy little slut whom i still sort of refuse to speak the name of because after quietly and quite politely, i might add, asking them to shag tail out of there she just giggled at me. and that's why i can't go for that. moving right along, gus called and pretty much said the above story. minus the frumpy slut. and my response? 'bring him over to jessica's, he needs all the mates he can get right now.' and then i bought him two 40s and tried to give him a pack of cigarettes. after spreading the love for a hot minute at adam's, we headed back to jessica's with hailey, ryan's ex, fun fun times for kat, for more drinking. and drink we did. gus left and then it turned bad. and i mean bad. ryan started crying about jail, his parents, his life and general and hailey kind of sort of didn't really help tame the situation. i don't really remember though, i was kind of wasted. so he ran off and sat in the front, on a thorn bush and cried some more. so i ran after him. why? because i'm a nice kat that way. i gave him love and told him that someday he too, like i, would wake up and everything would be ok. which only made him cry more, now that i think about it, and he said that if he could find the last piece of his shotgun he'd kill his dad and then kill himself. to this i did not like. then he proceeded to tell me about his dad beating up on him and his brother beating up on him and how he's a piece of shit lots of tears boo hoo for him. he was stumbling by this point. then he made us sing wolf parade. i sent hailey to bed and then ryan started to fall asleep on the couch outside. not ok. so i woke him up but he wouldn't listen and i do believe i ended up saying, 'fine fuck you then, i don't give a fuck about you,' at one point. then i came back with a blanket. then i threw him off the couch, literally, gave him a pillow and told him, 'g'night.' it was done. i don't need to sleep with him. i don't need the satisfaction. he makes horrible choices when he's not with me and that's only because i bitch and moan until i get my way and just tell everybody, 'you don't want to see me angry,' until they let me do what i want. ryan, however, makes me sad all day. i'm of the breed that when you are wasted, the truth comes out. no matter how slurred. i had it all wrong. the doll had it wrong. true, baby, he isn't done with my - but i couldn't even conceive how fucked up he is. i mean, i had to literally hold him until he stopped crying, told him to just breathe and relax, everything would be fine, everything will be fine, everything's going to be fine. there was nothing more last night that i wanted than to sleep next to him, but he needs to understand that things have changed. and that's how i conditioned myself into a D O L L and not a T R I C K.

the book of kat

which is more or less the scripture of the kat
part II
now it came to pass the days when the doll was doing more or less ok and there were big storm clouds hanging above a certain man's head from the elite hills of the stars. because he was too proud to speak in her presence, she offered nothing less than her best, 'if any man strike the eye of this cool breeze character, and leave him but one eye again, i will allow him to go free. for the eye which you put out will return three fold. and he will also strike out a tooth. he shall be free, hear me, free? feel me.'

the book of kat

which is more or less the scripture of the kat
part I
now it came to pass in the days when the doll was very sad and a certain man of the highest hills went to suffer all by his lonesome.
and once the doll realized this, that he was nearer than far, she lifted up her voice and said; 'i will not deal kindly with you, as i have dealt with the dead because you did not treat me kindly.' and he begged upon her; 'surely you will relax yourself, girl.' this the doll did not like. she then uttered lowly, barely audible; 'entreat me not to find thee: for whither thou goest, i will not; and where thou stay, i will not: thy people shall be my people and your loves my loves.' then she said, a bit louder, 'call me not kat, or doll: for you have dealt very bitterly with me. i went out full and you hath brought me home again empty.' her words made a mighty deep impression. and so he hesitated.

lunes de negro

i don't know what is the matter with me. maybe it's because i'm hurting and, as we all know, this doll doesn't always take off her grump face after a long night of layawake frying and things of that nature. in fact, it must be a full moon. no. i think what began as me feeling like a piece of shit just started snowballing. it was like one bomb after the other. kablam! don't touch him...kablam! don't kiss him...kablam! he's kissing another girl right now. but, and i do protest i did nothing short of my best; however, it is not at all uncommon for ladies, like myself, to know exactly when to leave. and so i did. i don't know what kills me more - the people around me or lack thereof. or maybe it's the fact that i can't even say one word without being completely ignored. as if what i have to say matters not at all - they've heard everything i've had to say before i say it. i don't know what it is. i could probably drown now and not give one care in the whole blue sky. but, for now, this doll has some tricks up her sleeve and some other kitty cats to play with so...i suppose i'll go work on that one.

up all night

i need to shower. but i don't think it will be happening in the any near future. i'm a little stoney, a little dirty and now, a little mad. i tried to put my angry face back in hibernation, but that little bitch wants to jump up at all angles. adjacents, even. i'm so tired of this. feeling all frumpy like. call me 'frumplestiltskin' and i'd probably answer. but i suppose not. i suppose i'm wonderful and i don't deserve that. next time? side hammer to the temple. and, yes, the temple that was bashed against all those rocks. i want to stand on top of my roof and yell, "i feel like a bitch the sheets twist me up." i probably should. how much time did i waste? i do believe that's what i was trying to figure out last night, whilst still frying upon jessica's prize leather couch. i had snakes for veins and moons for eyes and i stayed up all night, of course. i should sleep soon. shower first.

he promised me all the olive trees

but i still haven't seen shit
yeah pretty much i've realized, after an acid hit or two, or maybe even three or four - that, yeah, i'm pretty much done with ryan. done. like, where's my apology at? is it in the mail or something, what the fuck? like you couldn't even suck it up and say, "you know what, i fucked up the other night." i 'on't give a fuck if he doesn't want to fucks with me anymore - i can handle it. yeah, pretty much he can go jump in the grave he's dug himself. anyways, i did some acid last night and hung out with gus and somehow someway we ended up over there and it was not hard. not hard at all. it was soft as bread dough nukka. then i put them through "fuck you lucy" 'cause i'm a kat that way and i don't really think anyone was feelin' it, but i don't really give a fuck - it cleared my minds. all nine of them. they come with the lives. and gus even asked later if i was still into him. no was my answer and no is the truth. it settles well, wouldn't you agree? i figure i can't escape him, he's someone who will be hanging around us at all times, unless he's in jail, again, so i might as well chin up and suffer through it. then, someday, hopefully soon, but i doubt it, things will be okay again. they'll be easy. easy does it. and i won't have to fucking stare at the sky everytime i know his eyes are on me. such is life. i'm going to go shower because i really need to. spent the weekend in mccall without a toothbrush because mo locked the house up. i fucked up and said i was at jess's when i was at lainey's. oh wells, mo is over it. at least it's not like emma blake's mother - holy shit. i'm going to stop there. in closing, dollface, whenever you see this shit, don't worry. don't worry about any of the bullshit floating around. water down your back. bitches ain't shit but hoes and tricks. eagle claw. yahh trick yahh.

only in dreams

there was absolutely nothing she could do. nothing she could say. she lay there, deader than the dead, frozen - trapped. at this hour, the devil's hour, all was still. she didn't dare move, for the mere inkling that fear might take over and she would be forced to do something drastic. like get up. and so, when the time came, get up she did.
she stood, stumbling a little at first, as if balance was a new concept to her and reached for her things. a tattered pair of leather flats, her cigarettes - only the necessities. and then she took a walk.
the air was brisk, the night was growing on morning and she still could not breathe. racing her mind was and there was nothing she could do about it. because, she thought, no one's going to listen to my sob story and give me pity; i should have known better. but the only way to learn from mistakes is to make them, so the only thing that made sense to her at the time was to take it like a champ and try not to get so down on herself. so she walked some more. and then she stopped. and then she counted. she counted to ten, over and over and over and over again and over - until she had caught her breath and could stand without falling. that's better, she thought, there's no reason for all this commotion. there is absolutely nothing the matter. i came to a street, she thought, i turned the wrong way and now i have to correct myself. it's rather simple and there is still no reason to fret.
yet again, fret she did. so she took a seat on the curb and pulled out a cigarette. as she dug through her pockets, she thought it odd that there were no matches. this girl, being incredibly perspercacious, prophesized she would find no matches, yet still dug a little deeper in hope. and, instead of a firestarter, she procured another bounty. a losty. she had been looking for it so long it took her breath away and brought a sting to her eye. these are the things we wait for, she thought. when you're down and out and the tiniest thing can pick you up. or bring you down, she thought, shoulders shaking, waterworks stirring. it was another day, another night. and, like i said, there was absolutely nothing she could do.
except get away. and get away she did. she didn't even take time to traipse around on eggshells. she stomped out the door and ran as far as could. she ran farther and farther and farther and when she thought it was far enough, she ran a little more. once she was out of earshot, she purred unto the crisp air, the first thing in days: tell cool breeze i'm over him, he's a creep.

this too shall pass

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
and it's back to me, myself and kat. i'm not mad, i'm not sad - if anything, i'm a little disappointed. in myself, sure, but moreso in the situation. how terrible for this doll, dig? i have learned. i'm pushing him as far away from myself as i possibly can. i would love nothing more than if i never saw his face, heard his voice or felt his touch ever again. never again. what a mistake this all was. i come back from a year in solitary confinement and the first person who sets sight on my sugarlips ends up ripping out every shred of mental dignity i have left. there is no self esteem. and this is straight truth i'm speaking here. i don't believe i've ever had to deal with something like this. but i tried my best. shagged tail out of there faster than you could fuckin' blink an eye. and in the morning? two words and i was gone again. i don't need this. i don't need any of his petty bullshit. and it's all him, you know that, right? it's all him. he's got problems up to fucking here, and i'm done. done with a d. i have no self esteem, no energy, i feel like a frumpy piece of garbage, shit on the sidewalk and as usual, there's no doobies for me to smoke. so, yeah, i'm in a terrible mood. how dare he. how fucking dare he. did he not weigh the situation? did he not think? probably. i don't really give a fuck anymore. i'm tired of talking about him. it's always about him and never about me. i suppose i just had to get it out of my system.

and after the doll cried alligator tears a-plenty she said: 'hew thee two tablets of stone like unto the former and i will write upon them the words, which were in the tablets, which thou has brokest'
and when the doll came down from her lily pad cloud, she was not alone. and when she passed before him, he begged her: 'o kat, the good kat, merciful and gracious, patient and of much compassion and true, she who keepest mercy unto millions: who takest away iniquity and wickedness and sin and no man of himself is innocent before thee.'
and the doll, making haste, bowed down unto the earth and adoring, said: 'if you have found grace in thy sight, i will do signs such as were never seen upon the earth, nor in any other; that you, and your people, in the midst of whom thou art, may see the terrible work of which this doll does do.
'thou shalt not offer the blood of my sacrifice upon leaven; neither shall there remain in the morning any thing of the victim of the solemnity of the doll.' and when they saw her face, she covered it up again, if at anytime he spoke to her. she was very hurt.
'and the next time you speak ill of me, or treat me poorly, it will be your last. for i will pass, silently, with my serpents through the land of the trees in the deep, dark night and there will not be one house where blood does not fall freely.
'and as the blood falls, consider that your warning. and when i see the blood, i will pass over you and you will know the plague is upon you.'
and she covered the whole face of the earth, wasting all things. she looked towards the heavens and there was a great storm upon the whole land of the trees. and the hail and fire mixt with it drove on together: and it was of so great bigness, innumerable, the like as had not been before that time, nor shall be hereafter.
yet, he was hardened. and so she said, 'talk not to me, for i'll not speak a word - do as thou wilst, for i am done with thee.'

THIS WEKE: KOSMIK JUSTISE DESEND ON THE RONG-DOER

THIS WEKE: KOSMIK JUSTISE DESEND ON THE RONG-DOER
is it reely a hole sumernight since kat comence her once weakley rant o hoaley MOALEY o can it be true?
it giv one pause for THORT when one cast ones mind back to the hedey days of sumer 2007 those halceon times when a young and thrusteng gorden BROUN sezed the throan at number 10 the nasion fell in LUV with xciteng new tallents like basehunter and the POGBIN DETECTIVS the luvley doll hav just diskoverd the delites of the GLASS TROMBONE she was giving the good news on a nitely basis and is there still jam for tea mater? SUCH DAYS WE ENJOID AS NEVVER BEFOR.
but TIMES WIGNED CHARRIET PURSU US ALL it snap at our heals and sa look sharp fatey i do not hav all DAY.
it is INSTRUKTIV to look back on this past yere and relise the FAIT wich hav befallen those who kross KAT yes infakt we must kontemplate a verriteble KURSE OF THE DOLL.
she hav binned off in a fit of PEAK for the minor ofence of sukuming to the ADVANSES of a atraktiv cool breeze well it is rude not to after they have given you the old babeyshables once over. the twig-leged also take UMBERANCE at inosent habits i.e. pasing out in the TIOLET and flaging down the miror next thing sugarcup is livving in a KARAVANET on a hankney WIK wot a swizz. SUCH IS THE WEEL OF FATE.
the doll hav ofered the bennefit of her XPERENCE her good sense and linguistic abilites also the old VITTAMIN H at a nockdown prise of £10 for two bags you wil get no beter on the high rode.
aftr kicking her whil down an out sugar has ran off to the jailbound cool breeze for a last race or two. imagen the sene the rateling slender silvan sole sensasion trainspotting. cool breeze having embrased the time honroed practise after having receved his sentence e.g. out in a fortnite fined 1 (0ne) bag WINEGUMES and his siley trilby hat.
but wot of the doll HERSELF?
with trembeling hands kat pump up her hair and dance into the morning SUNLITE.....

spoondance

it all started with a big bang. usually, in this house which, at times was very rarely called 'house' without the prefix of 'crack,' things ended with a big bang. not began. but, as this was another summernight in which only the stars rememeber what happened, the elite primrose hills' 'skid row' gang of hooligans couldn't give two shits less. in fact, with strange weather brought on strange occurences as commenced from here forward.
on happier feet, we would all gather in a circle and have witty repartees until wit's end. but, as already hit before, this was not one of those 'regular times.' instead, bodies lied scattered about. all of us in the gutter, some of us looking at the stars. no one spoke, no one blinked. but if you listened, you could hear things. you could hear all sorts of things if you listened. you could hear the sirens. you could hear the screams. i can think of a lot worse things to hear.
and while i was thinking, we probably heard the worst thing of all. silence. it was dead. dead i say. it was so quiet, you could hear the ice rattling in the shakers in the homes all the way down the canyon. it made our skins crawl. and not crawl like you wouldn't believe, but crawl like you had snakes for veins. well, most of us did by this time anyways.
for kicks, some of the rough and tumble characters sat out on the stoop and shot up fiberglass, ripping up all their insides with a great and oh so terrible pain it hurts, it hurts bad but it hurts good too at the same time. and then they'd come in, blood and bone and sing like canaries. whine like dogs they'd do. and so we'd send 'em packin', we'd tell 'em, "hit the pavement! and i don't want any of you slags to darken my doorstep again!" then we'd throw pennycents at them and it was a riot. a real hoot i say.
and that's why i can't go for that.

i couldn't drop dimes

here i am, great kat of cats, back in the same boat of always and never. really, i don't mind it so much. i do feel, though, that i was dropped off on front street. at first, i stood around and stomped and made a fuss. now, i've started walking and i don't mind front street tomorrow. i'm nobody's girl. and he's nobody's boy. so, in one way or another, we're in the same boat. yeah, yeah i know i really need to stop, sort of putting myself out on that ledge, but it ain't no thang. i can't say i wouldn't be like, "damn....thas fucked up," if he just reads and doesn't write back - what can you do, honestly? not a damn thing. it's such a shame when you're a good doll and the bad hoods take a mild advantage over your head. can't stop won't stop. and, on a sidenote, not so serious - he stopped breathing for about 5. so i don't want to hear about it. and, secondly, i wasn't even there for that in the first place. free brew, what up? so when he was practically in the clutches out in his own hallway while his mates raged on above and below - completely ignoring him - i could drop dimes. i can't help it if i'm so good. so so good. i don't want to hear his shit sometimes. anyways, last night was fun, it was hilarious and i'm sure something of the likes is already in the works. i won't worry about it. i'll stop runnin' my yap now. another day another dollar let's get faded on the bottle and forget about tomorrow. 'cept in my case i need to remember tomorrow because it's friday and right is tight on fridays. moral is; i'm no longer the trick, i'm the tricker. if anything, i'm kat.

look not onto me; for i'll not speak a word

she didn't dare speak. at least, not to him.
it was summertime, nighttime - the right time. it was hot. it was hot inside and it was most definitely hot outside. and she was hot as well. hot for the moment, hot for the days and especially the nights. during the night, she would saunter around, much like the stray cats roaming the neighborhood encumbering them; and then she would get to cunt-calling.
"i calls 'em like i sees 'em," she said aloud, not really talking to anyone in particular; however, it was general knowledge anyways and she was the type of person who, if things didn't get said, she would say them. and without even the bat of an eyelash. never a slip. not once. not even once.
until one night. it was not too late, not too early and it was still hot outside. but it was quiet. dead quiet. it was so quiet, you could hear the ice rattling in the shakers down the canyon. and so she started a-cunt callin'. she moved from her seat and took place atop the highest feature in the backyard - her soapbox. "you," she pointed onto a wild haired dollybird and shook her head, "no, you," and she nodded with this, "are a cunt," then, with a sweeping motion, cigarette at hand, pointed over at a bruised soul crouched on the steps, hiding his face, "are the biggest cunt," finally, she looked next to her, "you're a dumb cunt." sometimes, you really couldn't take her anywhere. sometimes it was 'cunt this' and 'cunt that.' sometimes she didn't stop.
it took mere minutes for the honey to settle on the bees and by this time the stars had come out to play and the moon stood leeringly still. it was then and there she said, "there's a ring around the moon tonight."
"oh yeah?" the bruised one called out, not moving an inch.
"yeah and you better watch it cool breeze, 'cause this doll will be up all night." he shook his head a little and rested it back in his lap.
it took seconds to shake her. she got back up, lit another cigarette and did a lap around the house. by this time, there were many a thing on her mind. she tried her hardest to act as if there wasn't, fluttering her eyes every now and then just so's no one would check her pulse, purring things like, 'can you dig it?' and muttering silently to herself. most of the time, people thought she was on drugs and most of the time she was, but you can't blame a champ for trying, can you?
that night, no, those nights, there were things that were said and there were things that, unfortunately, were not. she was looking down at her fingertips stain black and she said, "i will hurt you more than you've hurt me." she took a look around, assessed the situation; the still beginnings of the old 'plot and scheme.' but it was no use. cool breeze, if you can even call him that, was already beginning to sweat. and he was beat. he was beat so bad he didn't even know. and once he did know? it was too late for him. for him, the night had turned to morning and he was to be getting his tail on down the pavement. and for her? the hot breeze was blowing hard, knocking old creaky doors open and improving her mood. for her, the night had just begun.

you could never be my buttercup

unfortunately for him, the creep he is, he managed to procure some violence last night and got his pretty little faced smashed in. now, this would all be grand and fine in the great scheme of things, but, i will have to warn you that he is trying to get back in my good graces. and to do that, it's going to take a whole helluva lot more than a few bruises and a fat lip.

thus spoke kat

it's all very tricky, see? because, many things were said. many things were done. many things were done and then never talked about. do you see where i'm going with this at all? one would find themselves between a rock and a hard place if they were to take a walk in my ballet slips right about now. and despite all of that, i would love nothing more than to see him slagging a broken jaw courtesy of none other than yours truly. so, what's a doll to do? what to do...what to do...
there is nothing to do. and so, i will leave it at that. i cannot express how, fuck all, how fucking crazy it gets me that he's doing this. say one thing - do another. another notch. another day. another kat. it's not important. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10.

"...now do i bid you -
lose me and find yourselves;
and only when ye have all denied me,
will i return unto you..."

i don't even think it's necessary to stress how important that is to me right now. baby, he needs to lose me because if he doesn't - surely only trouble will be coming his way.

'twas a trick - nothing more

my hands were trembling earlier. i don't know if it was because i was so mad or so sad. or so hard up for a cigarette. i think i've finally enough of, well, what one would need in this situation. whatever it is - i got it. and i'm not sharing. no more sharing. that didn't work out so well. i'll try my hardest not to blow it again, but if i do - i'll take it like a champ. i can't help that he's wired like a fucking trick ass mark bitch, and i'm not. it must be terrible being him. anyways, he's a creep and i'm done with it. so, give me a couple days to wean off of the honey and things will be back on track. as for now? bitches ain't shit but tricks and hoes.
*pretty much they're probably dead.

and that's why i can't go for that

and that's why i can't go for that
and that frump looked like a fucking clown today, i'm not even kidding you. she's so lowly, i can't believe it. i look at him and i'm sad all day. he's horrible terrible and there's a storm coming. oh yeah there is. he's pretty much dead. dead to me, dead to everyone else and just dead in general. if he ever speaks to me again, i don't even want to think about how much pain he'll be in. it won't be fun for him. i just want to take a step sideways and take off running. i want to get far far far away from him and keep going farther. he is bad. bad bad bad. bad feeling. bad feeling. i want him to stay away from me and never talk to me again. i want him gone. i want him away away away. never in front of me again. there's a line in the sand, i drew it, jkirk helped, and if he steps over it - we step on his toes. then we step on his skull. and all of his other tender spots. which, to no extent, i could point out. as for now? i'm off to a cigarette with good looks. good feelings about that cigarette.

such a fool

such a doll
such is life. and never before have i been this way. i'm not upset. i don't give a fuck. i hope he's out fucking that stupid big haired raggedy anne girl and i hope he's fucking steezy ass bitches. i hope he's having the time of his life - he should be. and so should i. but heed this. what he's done - it isn't right. and it'll come back to him, you can put bank on that. when it does? i'm not going to be anywhere near. he needs not to talk to me, i won't speak one word. he can do as he wants, i'm done with him. fuck the doghouse, if i see him anywhere near me - i'll be on the horn and his skull will be cracked before the night breaks dawn. put bank on that as well. i don't even want to talk about it anymore because he's a trick ass mark piece of shit. i don't really give a fuck. i hope he's out there fucking frumps and notching his belt or whatever the fuck he's into. i don't ever want to see his face again. and if i do at lainey's, i will fuck his shit up. i will drop his shit on front street. not on the corner, but in the middle of the fucking way so he gets at least one broken bone. i never really liked him that much, but at least i respected him. now, i despise him. i'm over it, it's a bunch of bullshit if you ask me. i don't even want to stoop that way. so, baby, in closing, i got it.

THIS WEKE: HOUSEWNIE KOME TUMBELING DOWN

on okasion peat pause to wonder at the TRAJEKTORY of his grate frend muse and unrekwited OBJEKT OF PASION mrs AMEY SPEARMINT-WINO.

it is a modern wonder is it not i mene ther is nevver a qiet moment for the star-krost singeing sensasion pehaps she did something teribel in a past life like join the MOONIES shoot joan LENON or maybe akt as AKOMPLIS to moores murdererers ian bradey the old lade and mira HINGELY she certanly have the HAR for it.

it is a modern wonder is it not i mene ther is nevver a qiet moment for the star-krost singeing sensasion pehaps she did something teribel in a past life like join the MOONIES shoot joan LENON or maybe akt as AKOMPLIS to moores murdererers ian bradey the old lade and mira HINGELY she certanly have the HAR for it.

this weke howefer hav surpast even AMEYS ushual standads of katastrofey AS YOU WILL SEE.

firstley she apere in a old vidoe on "news" of the world web sight singeing apauling RASCIST SONGS it go yar boo i donot like blacks and packeys and chinks it is VEREY SHOKING AND DISASTFUL wot is she thinking? you are not allowed to be a nazey if you are jewitch thats wot i got told hav she gone MENTEL? is it the old ROBERTA FLACK speking?

peat hav to admit he is SORELY DISAPOINTED in the behavour of his disadvantegd FREND for in his xperence amey hav a GRATE LUV of all the coluors of the world xpecally the BROUN and abit of the WITE to wake you up in the morning.

howefer KLOSER XAMINASION revele the truth the wobely vidoe image from late last yere is the doing of the dredful parasitik wede BLAKE FIDDLERONTHEHOOF pore amey sa BLAAAAAAAKE BLAAAAAAAKE you are not FILUMING this ar you ifso i wil DEVORSE you he sa no babes i swere on yore LIFE this brordcast qality kamera and profesionel liteing crew are merely artefakts of yore KEMIKAL REVVERY he then advise her to pla another brefe voluntary on the GLASS TROMBONE plump up her NOCKERS and singe a song about FORENERS.

one hopes the dredful winjng roter got a good few bob for betreying his sopfistikated hem hem beatiful hem hem hem fragrent MOST HEM HEMS EVVER IN THE WORLD IN SPACE wife to the retched scuondrels of her magesties "news"papers. but this bring us to the SEKOND devvelopment in the kontinueing SOPE OPRAH of ameys LIFE.

TO WIT: the disgusting BLAKE hav pleaded GILTY in the HIGH KORT to comon ASALT perveting the KORSE of ameys karear havving a siley HAT ponking to high HEVVEN poo ur gosh hav he DYED and also generaly being a wede sneke cad roter oik toe-rag bounder and THOROHGLY BAD EGG.

Judge sa 100000000000000 yeres in CHOKEY take him awa i onley wish libberal do gooders hav not ROBED me of the ULTIMET SANKTION sosiety hav erned a rest from mr BLAAAAAKES aktivites and i shuold FONDLEY wish to see him dance a TYBURN JIG cheers cheers cheers sa the asembeld kort but it is all in VANE.

as the wimpering DEFEANDANT is draged below his weaping wife pause from howling BLAAAAAKE in the tradisional maner and her eyes meet PEATS akross the publik gallery.

O PEAT KAN YOU EVER LUV A RASCIALIST they seem to sa xept one eye is looking at you and the other is looking for you she hav had a small "livener" on the wa to KORT and she is totally QARTER TO THREE.

with a hevy HART peat lower his eyes and TURN AWAY....

http://carries-questions.blogspot.com/2006/01/season-1.html