dear lovers of love,
I'm currently trying to shit my pants. that is an active statement. i was turtle poking so much that i actually took care of that fucking problem. and on the topic of problems, i have one. or 100. first problem in order is that i'm not getting fucked. more importantly, i don't know where my phone is. also, i lost my pot. no fuck. no pot. no phone. i am a little bit upset. plus i just watched the latest Tustin movie (twilight). oh shit... i forgot one, facebook. i have a big issue with that one. facefuck is fucking the turtle poke out of my ass and i'm not stoked. you would think it was cool to have your pipes cleaned, but(buttt), no. i just want to be the star of a romcom and i want regular bowel movements( touch my poo hole) and i want facefuck(book) to stop stalking me... i know i'm hot, but i'm not cool. so... stop social networking my super sweet ass.
find my phone and i will poke your turtle hole.
no.
not true.
find my phone and i will give you a high five.
hi5.
kris
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
i had a dream... that i was happy.
i just squeezed some black head out of my lip. why do things desire to camp? is this occupy face? the only way to get rid of them is to push them away.
so. my new plan is to push everyone away. this is because they do it to me, whether they know it or not.
three days ago, i felt as though i might throw my insides out and make a mess in a toilet. so i did. unfortunately, there was little to exude. this is what happened next.... in 48 hours.... in 48 hours: i slept 30 hours; drank 211 ounces of water; took 15 supplements; thought that i was in a comma; woke up; wished i was in a comma. woke up; went to work; realized that my dream comma was better; wrote this.
now i am going to bed.
next... next i will run to the woods because this is not fun. living in the shit hole you grew up in... sucks.
so. my new plan is to push everyone away. this is because they do it to me, whether they know it or not.
three days ago, i felt as though i might throw my insides out and make a mess in a toilet. so i did. unfortunately, there was little to exude. this is what happened next.... in 48 hours.... in 48 hours: i slept 30 hours; drank 211 ounces of water; took 15 supplements; thought that i was in a comma; woke up; wished i was in a comma. woke up; went to work; realized that my dream comma was better; wrote this.
now i am going to bed.
next... next i will run to the woods because this is not fun. living in the shit hole you grew up in... sucks.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Thursday, December 8, 2011
if i was a turtle, i wouldn't need to find a home because i would be constantly growing one
are people something i should be afraid of? i use to think so. i still do. they are just like wild animals, you never know what the fuck their gonna do next. i have these dreams that i'm wrestling this huge wild jungle cat in a manner that only another huge wild jungle cat would... as if i were this huge wild jungle cat, but we all know that i'm not (cats don't have thumbs (or any real fingers to speak of) to type with) so what happens in the end, as you could image, i get the bajesus slapped out of me, both by the cat, and by the floor when i hit it. i feel that's what my interactions with the general public will inevitably turn into... a very awkward one sided role playing game that turns physical and i eventually feel like a victim or a straight up poser.
however, i am pleased to say that has not been the current case. i have had the most pleasnt day haning out with stangers in their most private spaces. we touch hands, bump into walls, talk about heat. and i feel fine about all of this. sometimes i think its easier for me than it is for them. sometimes. i get that feeling the strongest when they start to talk about their feelings. one man told me about his current employment, his boss, his new opportunity, a promotion, presumably, and then he gave a few reasons as to why he was going to just give it all up and live on unemployment because he could afford to do so. i told him i didn't want to live in an apartment. which is true, i don't want to live in an apartment. but i did feel a bit weird having this conversation about his future life plans of going nowhere. and by conversation, i mean, him talking and me listening.
people aren't as bad as i thought though. they really can be very pleasant, entertaining, and insightful, amongst many other qualities and traits. yet even with this new insight into humanities colorful caverns, i still don't have a solid stone to call my home. i'm still not worried. but maybe i should be? fuck. i am running out of time, there is no question about the passing of sociological time. but i know this will work out. i have that knowledge.
however, i am pleased to say that has not been the current case. i have had the most pleasnt day haning out with stangers in their most private spaces. we touch hands, bump into walls, talk about heat. and i feel fine about all of this. sometimes i think its easier for me than it is for them. sometimes. i get that feeling the strongest when they start to talk about their feelings. one man told me about his current employment, his boss, his new opportunity, a promotion, presumably, and then he gave a few reasons as to why he was going to just give it all up and live on unemployment because he could afford to do so. i told him i didn't want to live in an apartment. which is true, i don't want to live in an apartment. but i did feel a bit weird having this conversation about his future life plans of going nowhere. and by conversation, i mean, him talking and me listening.
people aren't as bad as i thought though. they really can be very pleasant, entertaining, and insightful, amongst many other qualities and traits. yet even with this new insight into humanities colorful caverns, i still don't have a solid stone to call my home. i'm still not worried. but maybe i should be? fuck. i am running out of time, there is no question about the passing of sociological time. but i know this will work out. i have that knowledge.
if your a bird, i'm a bird too.
i started this shit in august 2010 and in 5 months i wrote/posted more than i did this whole year. i wrote every month except for november. just a thought that i was thinking... that's all.
though, maybe that's not all. why did i even start doing this? why would i want people to read about the things i think of them? or of myself? or of anything for that matter? well it doesn't matter anymore anyways because i know for a fact that i'm the only person who looks at this, and that's actually for the better. see, i'm afraid that i will lose my memory because i already can't remember most things, even if they just happened a few minutes ago. like when people talk to me. i will typically have some minor difficulties in responding to what they said, because i can't remember what they just said, and it will have only been a few seconds earlier that they said it. or, maybe, just maybe... that could be due to low attention span on my behalf. whatever, the point is i'm afraid i will forget everything that has ever happened to me. i'm scared of forgetting everything and then what? my husband, ryan gosling, will have to tell me his name is noha everyday when he comes to my room at the old folks home to read me the story of our love life together. and even though i typically never relate the story with my own life because of my mushy brain is dieing, he still is persistent, until one day, i remember. i mean, sure, i see my kids and grand kids from time to time and i never know who in the world they are, and 'noha' reads me the story over and over, everyday, for only he knows how long, and i never know whats going on... but that one day! that one day over a candle lit dinner, i remember! and we dance! we dance like that dumb ginger in the sun drop commercial. and then i forget and i start yelling and the nurses come and... and.... and... and did i ever tell you that i love the movie the notebook?! see... if i wasn't staying up late, documenting my every tangent, i might have forgotten how much i love ryan gosling and every shitty movie he has ever "acted" in, because for me, that shit is 100% true life real shit. and he loves me too.
though, maybe that's not all. why did i even start doing this? why would i want people to read about the things i think of them? or of myself? or of anything for that matter? well it doesn't matter anymore anyways because i know for a fact that i'm the only person who looks at this, and that's actually for the better. see, i'm afraid that i will lose my memory because i already can't remember most things, even if they just happened a few minutes ago. like when people talk to me. i will typically have some minor difficulties in responding to what they said, because i can't remember what they just said, and it will have only been a few seconds earlier that they said it. or, maybe, just maybe... that could be due to low attention span on my behalf. whatever, the point is i'm afraid i will forget everything that has ever happened to me. i'm scared of forgetting everything and then what? my husband, ryan gosling, will have to tell me his name is noha everyday when he comes to my room at the old folks home to read me the story of our love life together. and even though i typically never relate the story with my own life because of my mushy brain is dieing, he still is persistent, until one day, i remember. i mean, sure, i see my kids and grand kids from time to time and i never know who in the world they are, and 'noha' reads me the story over and over, everyday, for only he knows how long, and i never know whats going on... but that one day! that one day over a candle lit dinner, i remember! and we dance! we dance like that dumb ginger in the sun drop commercial. and then i forget and i start yelling and the nurses come and... and.... and... and did i ever tell you that i love the movie the notebook?! see... if i wasn't staying up late, documenting my every tangent, i might have forgotten how much i love ryan gosling and every shitty movie he has ever "acted" in, because for me, that shit is 100% true life real shit. and he loves me too.
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