After the storm abated, FNM+ had been vindicated of all except one... gleaming off the death he had incurred years before he's still there today like a burnout image of someone who had sat there before. He was the original owner of the venue, he wanted to have a club, tattoo parlor. Working out on the north east end. He had bought a building out in the drylands. Here there is a very different type of temperament here. I couldn't get use to the fact he always had the better instinct. Tornadoes. The "FNM+" originally called Steel Gate acted as a fallout shelter. I wonder if he will ever be here again...  I step out to the unfinished east side of the complex only to see for a moment someone smoking. I have sweat in my eyes from staying in the mosh pit too long. Wiping the slight singe off of my eyes, I gaze through the haze for someone no longer with me. Still I stood alongside him and had a smoke. 

RNDM THOUGHTS! When you want to throw your thoughts in the trash, you just do it! See below for example. If my heart was wrenched in my chest I'd find a way to spit it up and marvel at how little it looks like charcoal. I'd skip coal across the frozen lakes above us to the north and remember that elevation doesn't mean shit when you take in the grand revolving sky above us on an axis that hadn't been noticed to us for 800 years. All those stars and no lights upon the brilliant volatile rocks that surround them. Thermal readings always pick up stars where they're not. Just as fish get plucked by spear where you missed because of the deceptive surface of water and shine of the big flashlight in the sky.  Spelling out the word labyrinth would be easy if I hadn't gotten lost in the puzzle with no meaning other than there was an H or an I before I had my dad take the last step and finish my rubic's cube before the disaster of me rearranging the stickers on it so ...

Wildly Misread's "THE DEVIL'S KENNEL" TANGENT By Randall Johnston (Story As Is) Intro: A Book We Found In The Fire Pit, Might As Well of Been In The Middle of the Desert. - The written account of John Kennel. I n a forest around the edges of a fire pit, we found a book burnt like someone trying to burn it out of their life. Excruciating how painful the imitation of the spine is. It's a falsehood for the brittle work that ends up too familiar and eludes nothing from anyone else's hide a stash book attempt, though something strange still. It was in full print when reading like a journal. My friend had picked it up and was enthralled but also high. He didn't know yet. Somehow I do. That copy is a handwritten copy of a confidante with no exit strategy for who to tip-off. That is Tangent's story described by us and accounted for by the document as a counter insurgent military tactic, with so much riding on it that this will seem the most ridiculous attemp...