he wrote about 'cuddleing up in a big bed' with a bunch of teen age Indonesian boys in the 1950s' so . . . no thank you.
I looked and looked for those old books but I must have donated them or soemthing.
And thought about it somemore and read up on him and tried to find it and it occured to me it was either him or Thomas Mertin, both of them similiar comillian backgrounds of wealth brit-brat cabalrat kids, oh so unloved with all that gold in their teeth (I'm making up stuff now.)
in any case I stand by my assertion that Watts was a sex addicted clown idiot, probably a cabal, but retract that I am posative it was him, and not Mertin, who I read that, in his book, when I was just a waiff of a lad myself and thought 'well I guess i should have an open mind' but you know it's always a bad idea to bed down with new acquantences in a pile.
spurge-text-pink is doing is pink-woose thing this bread 'oh you lost, oh you all bad, oh me so pink and gummdelawful to you and I make you cringe loco like that clown who thinks he's the sun and cast his stupid wind upon a frame of powerless quiet.
inside of wreaked thoughts like a bad poem carrying on.
but the red text spurge can not
(is not with the ability of being able to do it well though will puddle through like a dog-ding-danklace, something that Joe Biden would quote
from and old move that nobody remembers anymore
making sure to get all the spelling right,
though that's a bit harder to do in a poem and
one day when I was bored
I made all my posts
Haiku for a bread
and no body noticed.
there once a spurger in red
that nobody cared what he said.
they'd scroll right along and hum some other song
And ignore him for all of the bread
>8e4e4a
and all secret modems and wireless connections that are built into cables, and chargers, and dongles, and even into the connectors. pretty much anything maid in the land of usurpers of all, is suspect to be compromised and subject to unknown infiltration and manipulation.
not juse a modem.
doxing yourself?