An Illegal Bootleg- Trout- Not Kurt- He is died

 The Vonnegut Trout Adlib

 You’ll Never Know

Chapter(ed) Section|1#(a^-2.52z)1…: The Reason I Wrote This:

 When it didn’t start, it happened. When it didn’t again, I couldn’t really tell. It smelled, but I can't quite understand why. I simply thought, “I gotta get outta here…~”. The place was obvious, but it wasn’t discreet, it had a lot of people, despite saying “No Trespassing-against the law.” I do understand law enough to say a scribbled burnt iron spike was enough to write it in burnt hours of stabbing a piece of plywood with a hotted end of a train rail spike by some random dude who thinks he knew what he meant at all. I moved on.

 I was walking around and the trees started snapping, it startled me enough to think there's a reason they would just fall over, but I wondered about how brittle and thick the bows must be in a breeze that wasn’t there. A skunk passed by and I stood still. I swore I could hear it giggling as I shuddered in fear of a japanese definition of a skunk in symbol language translated into alphabet, but I don’t know how to say it. If I was in a bamboo forest, there would be no trees.

 The difference between where I was going and where I went was a simple path I took down a cornered fall off in a stepped granite outreach small-cliffed into a path made by an Indian, eroded by something older than me at least 

 As I approached my destination, it was a hut, a place to sit.

I sat for many days, for reasons of my own. As soon as I was done, there were no reasons to sit anymore. I got in my lifted dirt tired smaller than normal Japanese inspired non-diesel mostly eco-friendly but not hybrid truck, to exit the forest forever.

Chapter 2: A Brain is a Device, Not An Object

 An object is worth its own weight in matter. If the matter at hand isn’t worth doing, the object leaves its own reason to exist. Although a forested tree is an obvious reason to never exit the thing, there are few reasons to do so, such as never obtaining a serious notion that I am dying from it and should just die instead. There are no reasons to listen to what you think, there are only reasons to think I don’t, but I don’t think you understand that, or I would not have written that. When you read the rest of this, please stop thinking about it. Here we go; I have no intelligence. I am stupid. I am so stupid that I can’t believe I am not. Anyone reading that believes that it is true. No matter what that is a fact.

 When I got home I relaxed in front of my mantle and stared at my stuffed German Shepherd I hung on the impotently placed cobblestone by some worthless needle dicked construction worker who built the house by himself I suppose. I’ve always lived here, but I sure always considered that to be true. The dog stares back as if he wasn’t really there, which is soothing because he was very rude. I would feed him beef bones and he wouldn’t eat anything but cheese. Although there were no simple gestures to make him nice, he didn’t really know better than to be dead because of this. The details are illegal to go into because it involves murder. It was not my fault.

 The fireplace was blasting cracks and heat noise that makes anything else boring, but mostly because I am sitting inside. If I go outside it might be fine, but I might get a bug bite, so I might not. I would have to put on more clothes than I have on and move around the house a little bit for about 10 minutes just to sit in the yard on a set of yard furniture I bought to sit outside with. Often I get the feeling that somebody might know about what I mean, but I wouldn’t know for sure.

 There was a black carbon coated covered piece of wood I bought for a decoration by the mailbox to fend off mail thieves because I often worry that I will receive a million dollar check from some random person for no reason but I considered it one day and maybe it would be true, but you never know who is really listening these days.

 Sometimes a sock makes me feel useless because if I only have one sock I can’t use two. To use a sock that isn’t a pair is often considered to be useless. I don’t always understand why I wear socks, but I do consider the comfort of eating food better than discussing socks and the material they use to make them in China.

 Uselessness is as good as not being useful to anybody. I often find myself being useless to myself, though through that objected sentence in my mind I am triggered into denial in constant disbelief in a doubt I can’t comprehend. Scraping the top of the idea is a trauma I can only remember because I take it for granted and am constantly thinking about it without considering why. I usually consider it to be the day the galaxy made me be here for no reason.

Chapter 3: A Simple Intelligence Reacts to Simple Choices.

 When a decision is made, it is finished. When it is done, we forget why it was a decision. Although most decisions require a lot more than deciding what to, other than spinning around like a drunk person that regressed into liquid brain shadow that forgot what it was because there was no reason for it to survive in the first place. I forget why I don’t get drunk all of the time. 

 A notion of victory over Breakfast Cereal by a sport addict on the readable regression from a picture to a Captain Crunch box with a puzzle on the back that’s so easy you can read it by the time you’re done eating your Cereal.

 I lost something the other day, but I once stated as a fact that you can pray to a dust bunny and receive the same result as praying to Saint Anthony as if he was forgotten by dying a long time ago.

 I don’t care if a person is suspicious of dying as fast as possible, it is not a sane thought. Keep denying you will die as long as possible, there is no chance of survival.

 Kids some days. They act like they’ve never read a Cereal box or a noobspaper. I simply cannot understand.

 When I want to never be myself again because of embarrassment, the only chance to get over it is to stop being embarrassed as fast as possible, it is impossible to not be able to do that. I have to stop now.

 Although I can’t believe in myself anymore, I don’t doubt that I am being given advice I can’t even understand.

Chapter 3, Again: The second Chapter returns;

 In my house there is nothing to do. I wish there was. I usually go to the fridge out of habit to believe in a subconscious boredom that maybe I will be able to find something to eat.

 I repeated the notion that a Japanese man was considering something like me, but I couldn’t pinpoint why, there has to be some reason I considered that.

 I have eaten an amount of cabbage and noodles with beef salt in it that would probably make a misunderstanding that it was plastic because it costs 3 dollars for 24 of them, I never can’t understand why that isn’t crossing my mind, but I’ve heard it somewhere. Who would I even ask that understood dilemma in my mind that maybe I’d be insane to ask but I just don’t know.

 If mass produced noodles made of plastic is because of Japanese people, then I suppose through logic there is only one correct answer, the Japanese people are plotting to make us eat plastic noodles that are plastic enough but edible enough to digest but won't kill you.

 If Japanese people invented Samurais to be really rude to you and dress like something I can’t even comprehend then there must be some other thing I can think about.

 I considered more about coffee after sitting down without thinking about drinking coffee until I sat down immediately, but passed through the kitchen on the way to the reclining chair and had to consider as fast as possible before thinking about coffee nonstop for about 15 minutes instead of making it instead. I decided to make coffee instead, why would I want to do that?

  If there was a noise deep dark person makes when they think about talking about stuff with their mouth but aren’t really talking, I wonder who they are? There must be some reason I thought that.

 If there was a money prize for being so good at anything that I get it for free, I would do that instead. I could write about anything I want and never get money for it. That sucks. Why would that happen?

Chapter 4: Objective of Life Goal Met

 If there was person, maybe, there would be one, possibly, somewhere. Somedays It’s hard to prove, based on the idea that some people don’t act like one, the only reason I think that is confusing. The reason I think that is because I might be better than them.

 My name is some Japanese Kid, like the karate kid from the dojo, I don’t know myself much, I must be simple. I believe I must be. I may not be confused about it, but maybe I wasn’t aware of myself and sometimes that makes me horny for no reason. Whenever I’m horny I want to have sex. That is what I feel. It is my belief. If I can’t be horny all the time I regret everything. If I need to have sex immediately I always don’t unless there is a girl right there. Sometimes I have to use a phone or a computer.

 Although some old people who have been outside don’t understand the conundrum between a face and a bunch of squirting people, there must be some form of comedy to it. If there isn’t I’m sure I’m sad. Although it’s sorta weird, there has to be a purpose to it. I might die before that happens. Spreading wisdom instead of seed is my purpose as an old person, except bald eagle muppets that don’t get the concept. Maybe if my brain worked correctly I wouldn’t question it.

Chapter 5: If Bark Tastes Good Why Eat It?

 I went outside today, there was no chance. It was raining. So I walked inside. I sat by a idiot guy, that didn’t know much. I guess he’s my dog, usually he whines at me when I have food. When I talk to him he sorta glances at me like he sorta unapologetically exists, I guess he ain’t havin fun. Somedays I wonder too, how could I have fun? I don’t know. Sometimes I try, but it’s not the same thing as what I think is, although I question it somedays, usually because I don’t get why it’s fun. I went to the basement and it’s really cold down there, I have this set-up where the washer and dryer are sittin next to eachother there, but I don’t understand who put it there, it was always that way. I may have bought a new one, but where would I put it again? 

 Thinkin makes me really confused somedays. I don’t understand why– but even though it does, is it real? Words make a lotta sense, but somedays I get really scared of ‘em, usually it makes me feel scared for others, like the word ‘fire’, it means somethin is burnin, but it also means ‘really good’, I guess if someone sat in front of a fire, like I do usually somedays, they would probably say that. It’s relaxin, makes me warm, and it smells good. Some people don’t fireplaces, and some people don’t have a fire pit, or a yard to sit in. I guess that’s okay.

 I wonder somedays about the time I put a weiner hot dog on a stick and put it in a fire and made it really good like it was really good, like so good I can’t do it at home unless I have a fireplace, but I don’t do it in my fireplace, I sorta just take it as a sign of nature that smokin a weiner hot dog at home in a home fireplace is sorta weird, its sorta like usin a candle to do it.

 I guess the main reason I do stuff is because I like it. If I don’t do stuff, do I know I ain’t doin it? If I don’t know why I don’t do it, does that make me weird? If there isn’t to not do it, is that called normal?

 If a non normal person is really mad right now, is it because they don’t have milk in their fridge? Is it because they don’t have a dog? Is it…because they don’t want to be not mad? I don’t get it…

Chapter 200,530#? The Reason:

 If there was a certain aspect to an understanding, there must be something to get. If I don’t get what it is, I must be stupid. But if I ain’t maybe I ain’t, maybe I just don’t know better. Stupid by definition, means not stupid. If that isn’t the definition, I guess I’m smart. If ain’t smart I must be stupid. If you can define a word yourself, you’re probably always right, but if you ain’t right, why challenge it? If there wasn’t a reason to be really smart, maybe you should try. Maybe thinkin about stuff scares you because there isn’t a reason to think about it. I found a reason to think about. But I ain’t scared to think about it. If I’m scared of that idiot guy I mentioned but it’s someone else’s idiot guy that has a leash on it and he bark at me before he bark at me, maybe he would just choose to bark at me. I guess the point I’m makin is that if you are a illusion, maybe you shouldn’t be tryin to be real. If that’s too hard for you to try, maybe stop tryin.

 The main Reason a doctor says “If it hurts, don’t do it”, is because you have cells in your body, and if you move your ligaments to hard when they are injured they won’t heal. Also when you have a bad feelin that you made a mistake and you keep makin the same mistake, and it hurts your body, that is what causes diseases It’s not exactly a secret but you gotta know how the doctors know that too.

Chapter 6: The word Him.

 If there was some other word to describe the guy, it would be you, but if he didn’t know that he must be a girl. If I didn’t know that I must be as smart as I look. If I don’t know the difference between a shampoo and a fake poop I must be french. But if there was no french in a french dressing I don’t understand why. To dress like a french person is either something I don’t know anything about or they dress like french people. I imagine a day when we all become french because the statue of Liberty was a gift from them. Even china may suffer the extreme conditioner GDP spike and with all of the flowers and land and stuff around here there must be a simple reason they wouldn’t do that. Maybe they like the liberty of watching with it’s spy torch.

 Brass is not my favorite color, but I guess sometimes I don’t consider why. There are a lot of simple reasons a statue made of bronze might be so heavy that a person that isn’t fat can’t lift because they must be muscular instead. Fat asians probably have a lot of problems with the law because they can’t move. If there were no reason a person of asian descent isn’t fat, there has to be a simple food shortage and there has not been for quite some time since back in the day there were no such things as serious people. I guess it’s the telephone companies these days.

Chapter 7: Typing Like I’m Smart

 I, this guy, am using a typewriter, you can’t prove I’m wrong. If you’re not, you might be correct. When there is a child in your presence you must understand. If you don’t there is no chance this is your book. Most man-child and girl-baby people don’t listen to the adults in their lives and create enough problems with the dissonant nature of worthless movement into a refrigerator several times a day while home alone. If there is nothing in the fridge, you forget later and return, although you knew there was nothing new to eat or drink you still have to do it.

 When there is a notion that someone isn’t real, I guess there are delusions and crime going on. When the crime is obvious it is causing guilt. If there is no guilt, there is no crime. Even though you enter into a wrestling match with your dog and he pees on you because he can’t control himself. There was no chance there has been a different option in reality. But as the grass has dew and the sun gleams it’s light on the grass in a reflective cold that brings a spring morning to life under the artistry of the earth’s morning incalescence under the layers of sense and smell of the air surrounding your skin as you walk through the grass at early morning as the curiosity of the chirping and still leaves and luminance pulsating and persisting across the open sky into the leaves with a nature known to only the eyes that see in that moment.

Chapter 8: 25 27 and uh 32.

 A number isn’t real. 

 Neither is your idea about it. Although there are numbers, we just made them up one day. You can count to infinity, but it might take a long time. If you try, I would certainly retire first. If you can't, you cannot have a job. If you decide to work again you have to stop. When you stop, you return to a non-eternal presence that isn’t counting that far in the list of numbers we’ve created. Belief it or not, that is a fact.

I smoked seventy thousand cigarettes and I might die from them.

Chapter 0: rip in pieces

The guy who wrote this died. But the problem remains in that he still exists somewhere because he wrote a book. Through conjecture we can understand the difference between what that means and what you can prove. If you have no proof it is a fact. If you can’t prove it, there is no chance. When there is a chance you will probably go insane from trying to understand. 

If you die from understanding that massive fact, there is no chance you ever will care, because you read that just now. And when you’re done reading that sentence you will remember why you read it in the first place. Although you were reading a book, you are now reading a book that is about reading a book. That is really cool.

Chapter 01: Dad

 My dad was really mean. He didn’t really say why. If he did he would just go insane instead. When he wasn’t insane he was making money. If he wasn’t making money he was teaching me how to assist in making money, although he doesn’t make much money he convinces himself he does and when he does he gets upset because he’s poor but has to forget about it because he would be mad all the time if he didn’t try to be upset when he’s not trying to listen to himself think, but if he did try to hear the thoughts in his head they probably have a lot of words in them. The words exist because someone made fun of him one day and there was no chance of recovery. When he did recover it was too late because the words made him get Alzheimers. Bye dad.

Chapter 20: There Once Was a Chance

 When it appeared, it wasn’t. 

When I fully remembered why it didn’t exist in the first place, it was the last time i ever tried to understand the difference. But when there was a serious implication that thing went away, I regretted my entirety. Although there wasn’t a series of triumphs in the arousal itself, the windswept realization that I didn’t matter took hold as fast as it came, I misplaced the thing in the box out back.

 I found a recessed sock that appeared to have a Christmas elf on it sleeping underneath a Christmas tree. I sniffed it. It didn’t stink. Although memory served me well, I had no quarrel with the thought. I picked it up and walked away, soon I thought, there should be a moment of tantalizing burning rubber in my back pocket, the thing was on fire. I screamed as fast as the day was ending and remembered not to stop drop and roll, it was the end, my life was over.

 I sat in the toilet with the seat up and convinced myself that there was no other option but to resist the temptation to shit at the same time but I remembered how clearly i was different than the obfuscation I created out of the sample of peace I remembered to leave in the garage itself. 

 The elf distracted my entire life after that. There was no difference between why a person should do something and why they wouldn’t try in the first place. My fault. Although I shouldn’t explain why, I shall right now. The thing didn’t matter, it wasn’t yours to have, so I sold it at a garage sale for 50c.

 Chapter 21: A Ritual Sacrifice

 I bought a Barbeque with a massive tank filled with masculine disease ridden affects that continuously blows my mind. It reminds me of a beta body builder that is too short to be nice to people, but compensates out loud and can’t continue being nice when he gets home unless he shows “affection” by touching a person he thought cared about him.

 The thing was brand new and it wasn’t used yet, so there was a lot of misunderstanding about what it was for. 

 I went to the store and bought a mass ton of meat that was in the butcher