no one liked thoreau and he liked no one, which is why he wanted to die with someone he loved. they saw he was aging. he thought he should post images of himself so that others would have an after image. he was vain. they saw that he was getting dumber with age. he thought it was because he wasn’t taking medication. he thought he was smarter on pharmaceuticals. he wasn’t wrong. the medication made him smarter. i thought he was lucid when he was on anti-depressants. he didn’t like having me around when he wasn’t medicated. he couldn’t keep himself from saying cocksucker and you fuck. he looked at the erstwhile white walls and the black screen and he said cocksucker fuck you cock you cock cocksucker you fuck. the woman in his life who thought there were other women in his life when she was the only one he shared a bed with held his head.  he looked at her thin long mouth. he thought she would open it and a small child would be seen living in it. she kept her eyes half open. he masturbated with his left hand. he wanted her to say something uncomely. she said nothing. she didn’t have to say anything. he looked at her red and blond hair. she didn’t want to talk. she liked to talk when she thought it was appropriate. it was appropriate to talk when she had something to she wanted to share. she talked at length about that something for a good fifteen minutes. he exercised caution when she was talking not wanting to offend her or for her to lose her thought. i looked at them from the other side of the room. the sun was coming through the trees that were like soldiers with dated weaponry.  i looked away. she stabbed his mouth with her fingers. she folded her hand over his nose. i pulled down my grey jeans. we have the same grey jeans and white gym shoes. i was self conscious about how small my penis was. he was looking to her for love. he thought about a pakistani man who said he should email him if he wanted to talk to him and not to text him on facebook because he never used it. i was thinking about the pakistani man also. we had shared a bed when we were young men. he never wanted to see me unless i had a woman for him to sleep with. he wanted to use me as a procurer which i would have been happy to do had i know women but i didn’t know any. i know plenty of women nowadays. i like to converse with them about men who have aggrieved them and political appointees. he answers to her because he has to account for himself. she wants to own him legally. there is a lawyer who answers for him. the lawyer had a mother who used to bring refreshments to the pedophiles in prison. his brother is long dead. he didn’t like his brother. he wasn’t unhappy when he died. the lawyer ran afoul of his clients. they left him. they said he was jealous. he thinks this is nonsense. the lawyer is in high society and he represents only artist social climbers. he thinks all artists are social climbers, they vie for power and favor. it explains why artists are such great friends of tyrants. he observed a french canadian in portland. the young french canadian was talking on his iphone to another french canadian in french. he had the need to stand up to do his talking. he would walk 30 feet so that he was moving when he was using his iphone he speaks chinese to a chinese woman. he used to live in tiawan. he has to go back to there to oversee a business deal. i was disappointed the french canadian was easy going. thoreau is a long young man. he prefers skin to clothing but wonders if we can do without the shirt. they will kill him. i want to see if his penis feels like the last penis i felt. it felt like a horse’s mane or forelock. two corporations made him which makes him a modern god. they made a new cyber state in the middle east from the corporation that was felled like a giant. will thoreau gut the sun and the moon like a norse wolf?