ohhhhh nooo. for my sake... are you serious? no.
i'm not. i'm fucking cold, if anything. and i mean that in sooo many ways. i'm a cold hearted snatch. who cares? i do. and i don't. urgh.
so i was made to think about, and to talk about, my family. one thing i realized... i love my family. i would stuff the minds of "infidels" with poop and rocks and what the fuck ever... just to make sure my family was going to "make it".
dear ken,
i'm sorry that shit sucks. it will never get better. i know. i know from experience. so stop your fucking preaching. everyone will die. everyone is fucked up. if you are normal, you might like burritos. but i understand if you don't. some "things" (people or whatever) they just don't like beans and rice and numerous fruits that are misnamed "vegetables" in a mixed dish... some don't appreciate the taste tornado that is yum time.
spay and neuter yourself... after all, we are all animals. oh ya... and....
there is someone in my life who told me to " pass the stoke on"
thanks.
sometimes... the things that you say and the knowleged that you can pass on to others... timeless.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
sweet, sweet, sour heart.
dear sucra,
i fucking NEED you! i want you, i need you, i take needles and pull the blood out of my veins just to see you! sucra. please be mine... for all time. what if you never had to deal with the goblins, sucra?! you might just walk free. we just might have the time to see the white. see the dark. see that night. sucra!!!!!!!!!!! do you see what i see? sucra.
stop eating doughnuts.
i fucking NEED you! i want you, i need you, i take needles and pull the blood out of my veins just to see you! sucra. please be mine... for all time. what if you never had to deal with the goblins, sucra?! you might just walk free. we just might have the time to see the white. see the dark. see that night. sucra!!!!!!!!!!! do you see what i see? sucra.
stop eating doughnuts.
Friday, January 7, 2011
this is just about nothing at all... i just don't want to go to bed because i will only have to wake up to do it all over again.
hello foggy portland night. even though you make my shoulders feel extremely uptight, i must admit, you make my mind feel so right. i want to whiz around in your milky lamp lit sky and let you suffocate me with your dense mixture of smog and suspended in thin air ice crystals. i want to stay up all night and dance in the dew. i want you to make me wet and feel new. but alas, i lie in my bed, thinking about all the sleep i'm missing out on. lets face it, life for me is only getting better. i mean, not to sound like a fucking total ass hole, but it really is. and honestly, i have to make it that way. considering all the shit i have put myself though in the last 6 months, i can't really imagine that things should or would get any worse than they already have been. but i still want to walk in the brisk air, some 40, 50, or 60 blocks without a care. i want to do nothing all the time. i want to throw it all away. i want to stay up all night till tomorrow's day.
is this what poetry is? nah. i don't think so. this is more like self induced insomnia.
i don't know who i think i am right now. i just wish i could post all the things that i have been writing, and storing away, but i feel extremely critical of what i have to say. i started to think that maybe i should have never made this blog, at least under my own name. maybe i should have said that it was a relative of mine (a made up one) and i was so proud of the fact that this mental case could actually articulate a thought and so i wanted to share it with everyone i knew.
"oh ya, my great step aunt once removed decided that she would teach herself how to read and write... this is what she did with it. enjoy."
i want more hours in the day. i don't seem to get enough done, ever. what if we had days that were 48 hours... i might actually accomplish something.
is this what poetry is? nah. i don't think so. this is more like self induced insomnia.
i don't know who i think i am right now. i just wish i could post all the things that i have been writing, and storing away, but i feel extremely critical of what i have to say. i started to think that maybe i should have never made this blog, at least under my own name. maybe i should have said that it was a relative of mine (a made up one) and i was so proud of the fact that this mental case could actually articulate a thought and so i wanted to share it with everyone i knew.
"oh ya, my great step aunt once removed decided that she would teach herself how to read and write... this is what she did with it. enjoy."
i want more hours in the day. i don't seem to get enough done, ever. what if we had days that were 48 hours... i might actually accomplish something.
Friday, December 31, 2010
maybe by age 27 i will write a book that has hop seeds and drugs implanted it it.
well golly. golly gee whiz. i think i'm wasting my time on the internet. maybe just a little bit. you know, i used to think that the only people who participate in the wacky world that is "online dating" were people like me... 20 somethings with not much "real" going on. people who have nothing better to do but stay up late and listen to the album "surf's up" by the beach boys until it gets beaten into the ground like something that gets beaten into the ground. as it turns out, i'm wrong. like really wide off the mark.
take, for example, this lovely little specimen that i met tonight. i managed to (not so sneakily) figure out his name. for confidentiality's sake, lets just call him JK. i assure you, JK is not short for "just kidding" because this guy is not fucking around... unless, of course, you are referring to the fact that he is on a dating website chatting with people who live some 900 miles away in another state (that would be yours truly), then yes, this guy is fucking around a little bit. anyways, i'm off tract, which is the opposite of what this guy is.
let me just start it like this... "how's it going?" he inquires.
now, my initial thought is, "why the fuck do people think that its cool to take pictures of themselves in their foggy bathroom mirrors with their smart phone? god, i bet this loser's next picture is of himself without a shirt on, flexing at the gym."
so i do some investigation and come to the conclusion that this guy is a total nerd. and by "investigation" i mean that i looked at the rest of his photos. and by "total nerd" i mean that he appears to be a relatively normal guy with some pretty bangin tattoos. normally i would decide weather or not i really want to talk to someone purely based upon their face. if your not tall, dark and handsome, well that sort of sucks, but at least i give everyone a fair warning on my page that "i'm kind of a asshole". so before i decide to cast myself off as a total "facial bigot" i decided to delve deeper in my inquisition of this character. what i found out just made me feel like shit. when am i going to graduate college? when am i going to start teaching at a collage? when am i going to ride my bike across the country, promoting my book that actually, literally, no fucking joke, GROWS TREES? i'll tell you when... probably never... but never say never, even when you are saying the saying "never say never" (that's why i am typing it, because typing is not talking, so i, in fact, am not actually saying "never say never" i am typing it), so i will just say that there is a chance that it might take me a little while to do something to that tone.
so at this juncture i sign an imaginary, invisible, unspoken contract with this unknown stranger to "chat" and chat we do. i read his page and find out that he is a teacher at pepperdine university. as i later come to find out, he is not necessarily religions, which he actually did not tell me, but i found out on the internet upon reading an interview... one might say that i am an internet stacker, but i'm actually just using my resources. really, for fucks sake, i would teach at pepperdine too, and if you know anything about me, i am no believer. lets just keep pushing on the peddles here... so he is a teacher at a prestigious private university. whatever. no big deal. did i mention he is 27? ya. but wait, there's more.
he wrote a book. but whats a book if it can't grow a tree, ya know? because i don't. but apparently he did. so he wrote a book and the cover has seeds in it. so go plant a book. his book. and it will grow a tree so that someone out there can make more books out of the trees that these books can and will grow. that's not all, kiddies, because this guy co-founded an independent publishing house, biked across the country to promote his book on a zero emissions book tour, landed on the cover of a magazine, and best of all, hes on an online dating site. yes, the world has officially gone mad.
honestly, i got a little annoyed about how cool this dood sounded after only reading one very informative interview on the internet, so i actually stopped at one (plus a few more... whatever... i'm using my fucking resources okay, i'm not a stalker). anyways... all of this motivation for such an audit came well after our rather basic, but delightful conversation. its funny how chatting with people online actually leads to nowhere. he told he he was a writer, i asked what he writes about, he said he wrote a book, i asked the name of the book, and soon after the topic changed and nothing was said about it again. we talked about tattoos for the most part, end of story.
i guess what i'm getting at is that you really can't judge a book by its cover (no pun intended) for it must be read to know what its about (pun intended). no really though... as that wonderful song goes...
"You can't judge an apple by looking at a tree,
You can't judge honey by looking at the bee,
You can't judge a daughter by looking at the mother,
You can't judge a book by looking at the cover.
You can't judge sugar by looking at the cane,
You can't judge a woman by looking at her man,
You can't judge a sister by looking at her brother,
You can't judge a book by looking at the cover.
You can't judge a fish by lookin' in the pond,
You can't judge right from looking at the wrong,
You can't judge one by looking at the other,
You can't judge a book by looking at the cover."
and fuck it, one day i will steal this JK's idea and write a book about good beer, good friends, good food and good times and the cover will be full of hop seeds, people seeds, rippin delicious food seeds and seeds that make you see things that might or might not be there. it will be some kind of zany willy wanka shit. you plant my book and you will have blow-your-mind-beer, awesome hotties, mouth watering chow and all the psychedelics you could ever image! so there.
take, for example, this lovely little specimen that i met tonight. i managed to (not so sneakily) figure out his name. for confidentiality's sake, lets just call him JK. i assure you, JK is not short for "just kidding" because this guy is not fucking around... unless, of course, you are referring to the fact that he is on a dating website chatting with people who live some 900 miles away in another state (that would be yours truly), then yes, this guy is fucking around a little bit. anyways, i'm off tract, which is the opposite of what this guy is.
let me just start it like this... "how's it going?" he inquires.
now, my initial thought is, "why the fuck do people think that its cool to take pictures of themselves in their foggy bathroom mirrors with their smart phone? god, i bet this loser's next picture is of himself without a shirt on, flexing at the gym."
so i do some investigation and come to the conclusion that this guy is a total nerd. and by "investigation" i mean that i looked at the rest of his photos. and by "total nerd" i mean that he appears to be a relatively normal guy with some pretty bangin tattoos. normally i would decide weather or not i really want to talk to someone purely based upon their face. if your not tall, dark and handsome, well that sort of sucks, but at least i give everyone a fair warning on my page that "i'm kind of a asshole". so before i decide to cast myself off as a total "facial bigot" i decided to delve deeper in my inquisition of this character. what i found out just made me feel like shit. when am i going to graduate college? when am i going to start teaching at a collage? when am i going to ride my bike across the country, promoting my book that actually, literally, no fucking joke, GROWS TREES? i'll tell you when... probably never... but never say never, even when you are saying the saying "never say never" (that's why i am typing it, because typing is not talking, so i, in fact, am not actually saying "never say never" i am typing it), so i will just say that there is a chance that it might take me a little while to do something to that tone.
so at this juncture i sign an imaginary, invisible, unspoken contract with this unknown stranger to "chat" and chat we do. i read his page and find out that he is a teacher at pepperdine university. as i later come to find out, he is not necessarily religions, which he actually did not tell me, but i found out on the internet upon reading an interview... one might say that i am an internet stacker, but i'm actually just using my resources. really, for fucks sake, i would teach at pepperdine too, and if you know anything about me, i am no believer. lets just keep pushing on the peddles here... so he is a teacher at a prestigious private university. whatever. no big deal. did i mention he is 27? ya. but wait, there's more.
he wrote a book. but whats a book if it can't grow a tree, ya know? because i don't. but apparently he did. so he wrote a book and the cover has seeds in it. so go plant a book. his book. and it will grow a tree so that someone out there can make more books out of the trees that these books can and will grow. that's not all, kiddies, because this guy co-founded an independent publishing house, biked across the country to promote his book on a zero emissions book tour, landed on the cover of a magazine, and best of all, hes on an online dating site. yes, the world has officially gone mad.
honestly, i got a little annoyed about how cool this dood sounded after only reading one very informative interview on the internet, so i actually stopped at one (plus a few more... whatever... i'm using my fucking resources okay, i'm not a stalker). anyways... all of this motivation for such an audit came well after our rather basic, but delightful conversation. its funny how chatting with people online actually leads to nowhere. he told he he was a writer, i asked what he writes about, he said he wrote a book, i asked the name of the book, and soon after the topic changed and nothing was said about it again. we talked about tattoos for the most part, end of story.
i guess what i'm getting at is that you really can't judge a book by its cover (no pun intended) for it must be read to know what its about (pun intended). no really though... as that wonderful song goes...
"You can't judge an apple by looking at a tree,
You can't judge honey by looking at the bee,
You can't judge a daughter by looking at the mother,
You can't judge a book by looking at the cover.
You can't judge sugar by looking at the cane,
You can't judge a woman by looking at her man,
You can't judge a sister by looking at her brother,
You can't judge a book by looking at the cover.
You can't judge a fish by lookin' in the pond,
You can't judge right from looking at the wrong,
You can't judge one by looking at the other,
You can't judge a book by looking at the cover."
and fuck it, one day i will steal this JK's idea and write a book about good beer, good friends, good food and good times and the cover will be full of hop seeds, people seeds, rippin delicious food seeds and seeds that make you see things that might or might not be there. it will be some kind of zany willy wanka shit. you plant my book and you will have blow-your-mind-beer, awesome hotties, mouth watering chow and all the psychedelics you could ever image! so there.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Noah was a bum and those animals were his crack pipe and that arch was his cardboard box
as i listen to the newest deerhunter album, i can't help but to get distracted by the rain pissing out of the sky and the heater constantly battling itself... the war of whether to stay on or off. god, portland. you sort of suck. or maybe i just suck when i'm in you. i can't help but want to cry every time i come here. maybe its because it never stops raining. what is that saying... "idiot do what idiot see" or maybe it was "monkey say what monkey do"... whatever, that's besides the point. the point is, the rain. it rains out of the sky and i rain out of my face.
this feeling of sheer and utter annoyance i have in this everybody-looks-and-acts-and-is-essentially-the-same-city probably has something to do with the fact that i just don't feel comfortable here. which should be reason enough for me to bust my balls and graduate college, but instead, it just makes me drag my feet. something about "misery loves company" because there certainly seems to be a lot of miserable people here. except for that one bum... he is not miserable (ya know, the one that yells obscenities to everyone in the streets. he seems pretty stoked and one night, i saw him at the bar and he was honest enough to tell the bar tender that his drunk ass broke a glass (crack) pipe in the bathroom... that guy is special and he is not included in my general stereotype of porltand people).
i get annoyed that someone broke the arm off of my Elroy figuring. i don't even like football. and i'm not a figuring collector. its just that... that little fucker is mine, and someone broke it.
oh. snap.
i just figured it out. it is raining this hard because this is the end of the world. pretty soon i'll see an arch filled with healthy female and male specimens of every single species of living organisms on this planet float by my window as i start to drown in my old little house. the water has rose up over the curb, over the retaining wall, into the yard. water has filled the basement, drowning the little Foosball players on their sorrowful field of perpetual play. water has filled jean's downstairs apartment. she is pounding on the celling in a final attempt to outrage me. nah.. that's not her style. she has actually just throw a hand written sign out of her window that has now floated up to my living room window on the second floor. it reads,"will you please turn off the water, you are flooding my apartment and wasting water is environmentally unfriendly". now the water has rushed into my house and i had to take my computer to the third story to write this last entry... the last entry a human will ever write, because i'm the last one. Noah decided to take no human with him to the new world. he also took himself. his own life, he took it away. and now i sit here... on my roof. the water has overcome my room and the entire third floor of my house. i have enough battery power to tell no one everything that doesn't matter.
i don't actually have the battery to do much of anything.
i took out the trash, i cried over a melted tea kettle, i drank about 100 ounces of water, i listened to the song "sailing" about 17 times on repeat, i let random strangers pester me over a dating website,
this feeling of sheer and utter annoyance i have in this everybody-looks-and-acts-and-is-essentially-the-same-city probably has something to do with the fact that i just don't feel comfortable here. which should be reason enough for me to bust my balls and graduate college, but instead, it just makes me drag my feet. something about "misery loves company" because there certainly seems to be a lot of miserable people here. except for that one bum... he is not miserable (ya know, the one that yells obscenities to everyone in the streets. he seems pretty stoked and one night, i saw him at the bar and he was honest enough to tell the bar tender that his drunk ass broke a glass (crack) pipe in the bathroom... that guy is special and he is not included in my general stereotype of porltand people).
i get annoyed that someone broke the arm off of my Elroy figuring. i don't even like football. and i'm not a figuring collector. its just that... that little fucker is mine, and someone broke it.
oh. snap.
i just figured it out. it is raining this hard because this is the end of the world. pretty soon i'll see an arch filled with healthy female and male specimens of every single species of living organisms on this planet float by my window as i start to drown in my old little house. the water has rose up over the curb, over the retaining wall, into the yard. water has filled the basement, drowning the little Foosball players on their sorrowful field of perpetual play. water has filled jean's downstairs apartment. she is pounding on the celling in a final attempt to outrage me. nah.. that's not her style. she has actually just throw a hand written sign out of her window that has now floated up to my living room window on the second floor. it reads,"will you please turn off the water, you are flooding my apartment and wasting water is environmentally unfriendly". now the water has rushed into my house and i had to take my computer to the third story to write this last entry... the last entry a human will ever write, because i'm the last one. Noah decided to take no human with him to the new world. he also took himself. his own life, he took it away. and now i sit here... on my roof. the water has overcome my room and the entire third floor of my house. i have enough battery power to tell no one everything that doesn't matter.
i don't actually have the battery to do much of anything.
i took out the trash, i cried over a melted tea kettle, i drank about 100 ounces of water, i listened to the song "sailing" about 17 times on repeat, i let random strangers pester me over a dating website,
Sunday, December 26, 2010
high on... something, but, actually, nothing... except for an excessive amount of commas
i went shooting today and i realized that fucking shit up is the best form of medication... ever. that's probably why the japanese have "smash shacks". although, i would find shooting the dishes with a shotgun would be more of a stress release. especially if they were dirty and someone was throwing them off the roof, like clay pigeons, just like in that scene in "don't tell mom the babysitters dead". unfortunately with that scene, there is a "factual error" because, although the sound effects are those of a shoot gun, in fact, kenny is not using a shotgun, he is using a bee bee gun.
anyways... guns are cool, as long as your not shooting someone. well, i mean, i guess if your shooting someone you know and its with a gun that won't kill them, that's sort of a different story. i would love to shoot my friends sometimes. not because i'm mad at them, but if they were shooting me as well. paintball, for example. that shit is legit... and fun. airsoft guns are a blast, as well. no pun intended.
now maybe, if it wasn't one in the morning, i would include a few lovey photos of my crazy uncle and slightly mental mother and myself (who obviously has some issues upstairs, but i'm not going there right now) figuratively shooting our brains out. but... it is one in the morning and shelby is forcing me to wake up early. so these things will just have to wait... till, tomorrow, probably.
until then, if you are interested in feeling high without actually "getting high" go watch "tron" or read the book "DMT the spirit molecule" and trip the fuck out!
anyways... guns are cool, as long as your not shooting someone. well, i mean, i guess if your shooting someone you know and its with a gun that won't kill them, that's sort of a different story. i would love to shoot my friends sometimes. not because i'm mad at them, but if they were shooting me as well. paintball, for example. that shit is legit... and fun. airsoft guns are a blast, as well. no pun intended.
now maybe, if it wasn't one in the morning, i would include a few lovey photos of my crazy uncle and slightly mental mother and myself (who obviously has some issues upstairs, but i'm not going there right now) figuratively shooting our brains out. but... it is one in the morning and shelby is forcing me to wake up early. so these things will just have to wait... till, tomorrow, probably.
until then, if you are interested in feeling high without actually "getting high" go watch "tron" or read the book "DMT the spirit molecule" and trip the fuck out!
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
me love you long time...right?!
alright suckers... i finally got a CAMERA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i broke about... um 3 or 4 of them. this one... this one i shall keep for a LONG LONG TIME!!!! get ready for some sweet shit. (sweet shit = things that are cool to me that probably will be of no interest to you... hence the "shit" part of "sweet shit").
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