jeffrey emerson can’t think

Stuart cleaned his mental scrubbrush and scoured his mind with it; not just the counter tops but the dirty floor, the dusty corners.  He moved the furniture and got down on his hands and knees.  He found a quarter and three dimes, which he put in his pocket.  He smelled sunlight.  He saw the dust and imagined that he was seeing moelcules, the little things that make the big things.  He heard an airplane far away.  As it got closer he fancied what he would do when it crashed into the side of his head.

Somewhere between eighth grade divorce and unicorn foreskin he came to his senses.  Eighth grade divorce.  N   othin’ much made sense anymore. Every   thing was dinitellly confused.  It woudl never be the luke warm cold side shower before thhhird grade again.  When   it just fell goood to experience the flight of different temperatures in your muscless, Dandermoore Gerkinshteil and the fractitude know it all.  He attended the study group.  Only three people from honuras came.  He didn’t know them.  But he got it.  He understood the universees infancy, it’s desperation.  Is man humble?  Because if it is, the nayonce is cogent.  Only ageents of mischief can fuss it all up.  Nascent challlengers lead to romansense.  Zach Braff and his misguided school buses still offend.  Market Street is full of aantiques.  Chock full.  This is one of 40 billion keyboards that sticks.  Plentitude,