There's a lot of pigeons in this city
stuck on their stoops
peckin for scraps
shittin all over people's heads.
they used to be scared of us.
now they approach
surely,
coy.
I
s g
w n
u
my foot
thinking one would fly away.
It sat there
instead and waited,
feeling lucky.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
wwjd?
walking down the streets of dark nights of the soul
youth/charm
pushing out the bars in smoke with spoiled meats pushing for a space of their own.
waiting for a cigarette lender and enough change to turn their cup of pennies into beer.
while 'tween gropes tits laugh away and drink freely from the cream of horny kindness.
they rain down the drain.
Pavements a place to sleep, a cold crack for home.
youth/charm
pushing out the bars in smoke with spoiled meats pushing for a space of their own.
waiting for a cigarette lender and enough change to turn their cup of pennies into beer.
while 'tween gropes tits laugh away and drink freely from the cream of horny kindness.
they rain down the drain.
Pavements a place to sleep, a cold crack for home.
Please Lord,
Let me die slow
Let me have my nicotine stains
My painful back
My shattered soul
My foul complexion.
Please Lord,
Give me the mercy
Of mortality
Of being under you
Of being less than a perfect idea
yet full of your perfect inspiration
which tears me to tatters.
Please Lord,
Let me cause pain
Let me hurt myself
Let me crush others
Let me see things and wholes as less than me
Let me get wet in the rain
Let me stand between you and your lovers in vain.
Please Lord,
Let me pray for something sweeter than myself.
Let me die slow
Let me have my nicotine stains
My painful back
My shattered soul
My foul complexion.
Please Lord,
Give me the mercy
Of mortality
Of being under you
Of being less than a perfect idea
yet full of your perfect inspiration
which tears me to tatters.
Please Lord,
Let me cause pain
Let me hurt myself
Let me crush others
Let me see things and wholes as less than me
Let me get wet in the rain
Let me stand between you and your lovers in vain.
Please Lord,
Let me pray for something sweeter than myself.
o o o o ophelia o feel ya ♥ (the symbol who represents the point in the body between the life in your swollen nook and bosom)
She told me to take her gifts of mercy; thoughts and touches. But her body and soul were forever hers and could never be traded for any golden muse. She left portions to her children, but they could only hold so much. So she laid down under the dirt when she got too tired to carry such burdens. She gave it all to flowers. To the day her body is still a lovers sway. I threw myself into the teeth of wolves. So they may hunt and outlive the hunted. So they may feign pride and take the fleshy heat who lovers make.
I said I just wanted love but I always make things too complicated.
I said I just wanted love but I always make things too complicated.
It's raining on the cloudless days.
Nights where I run out of paper,pens,room for spitsecond thoughts,between debt and leisure.
Out on the beach with a dowsing rod looking for water in all the washed up coins.
Disparity, behind wealth, who takes the spotlight in the show.
Where in the dark background my features I hope, shine and shade again between metal meteor rain.
Nights where I run out of paper,pens,room for spitsecond thoughts,between debt and leisure.
Out on the beach with a dowsing rod looking for water in all the washed up coins.
Disparity, behind wealth, who takes the spotlight in the show.
Where in the dark background my features I hope, shine and shade again between metal meteor rain.
2
Down on thee beach
midday to catch
thee thin whisped corner
of a storm.
Who far away,
thee roofs of edges shorn,
But here thee wind plays,
violent, simply with thee waves.
Thee cool run days,
thee leaves falling.
Thee violent end of thee summer
like nature's endless playes.
.
.
.
Dear Woman,
Dear Wife,
who sharpens the poetic edges of this thin life.
To cut a star from heaven,
and place it between our sheets:
wrapped in honey and mildew,
cooked and damp the two in stew to
be devoured by this cold blinking light.
Pulled down from sky like kite
with broken strings.
Hope to fly away forever
but crash and pull
into soft sand
where we lay in the smothering white.
Being devoured in a split second forever
of everything's
all-right.
midday to catch
thee thin whisped corner
of a storm.
Who far away,
thee roofs of edges shorn,
But here thee wind plays,
violent, simply with thee waves.
Thee cool run days,
thee leaves falling.
Thee violent end of thee summer
like nature's endless playes.
.
.
.
Dear Woman,
Dear Wife,
who sharpens the poetic edges of this thin life.
To cut a star from heaven,
and place it between our sheets:
wrapped in honey and mildew,
cooked and damp the two in stew to
be devoured by this cold blinking light.
Pulled down from sky like kite
with broken strings.
Hope to fly away forever
but crash and pull
into soft sand
where we lay in the smothering white.
Being devoured in a split second forever
of everything's
all-right.
Detached,
like ennui,
like a flight from space,
like too much money,
like a surgeon's eye,
like a broken bike,
like a dull pencil,
like a diamond being cut,
like a gangster in his strut,
like broken concrete,
like devil's advocate,
like the friend of a friend of a friend,
like being shot by lightening,
like an atm,
like a blind man's gaze,
like the world in haze,
like a can once filled with beer,
like a glass completely clear,
like a wall to block it all,
like nobody,
like the ghost of a soul,
like a massive sink hole,
like everything you ever need to know,
like the expansion of the universe,
like the man who drives the hearse,
like reality tv.
like ennui,
like a flight from space,
like too much money,
like a surgeon's eye,
like a broken bike,
like a dull pencil,
like a diamond being cut,
like a gangster in his strut,
like broken concrete,
like devil's advocate,
like the friend of a friend of a friend,
like being shot by lightening,
like an atm,
like a blind man's gaze,
like the world in haze,
like a can once filled with beer,
like a glass completely clear,
like a wall to block it all,
like nobody,
like the ghost of a soul,
like a massive sink hole,
like everything you ever need to know,
like the expansion of the universe,
like the man who drives the hearse,
like reality tv.
looking at myself through an introverted telescope. my eye's the new earth and i'm the smallest creature alive.
morrow moon
say gooday to the cold huddlers in hollow rooms.
although the sun will thaw our bodies by noon
we remember to hide when you make stars bloom.
why must you keep leaving?
...do you wane and empty from fear of your own night?
say gooday to the cold huddlers in hollow rooms.
although the sun will thaw our bodies by noon
we remember to hide when you make stars bloom.
why must you keep leaving?
...do you wane and empty from fear of your own night?
The smallest words grow like saptrees into massive redwoods.
How much would you pay for one good orgasm? How much would you give? How much is your love and dignity worth?
Bored with a boner, laying in the beds of strangers. I wondered when this train would stop on the tracks of dried up cum. You always get there before you're done (appreciating the lush trees, the poisonous flowers, the thorny bushes of the local landscape).
The end of the chase is always the end.
I was up all night with a river of secrets pouring out. Joining the run off with the lake.
A poet died. My cigarette extinguished.
Bored with a boner, laying in the beds of strangers. I wondered when this train would stop on the tracks of dried up cum. You always get there before you're done (appreciating the lush trees, the poisonous flowers, the thorny bushes of the local landscape).
The end of the chase is always the end.
I was up all night with a river of secrets pouring out. Joining the run off with the lake.
A poet died. My cigarette extinguished.
sleepy, wandering, eyes.
resting on dead table space
escher loops
coffee rings inside out
my fingers showing their dark blue veins
the love I gave to find out her name
visual exasperations repeating senslesendleslee
love love love love love
was not her name
my mind plays dreamtricks on me
and makes me put out bad poems
to reconcile
resting on dead table space
escher loops
coffee rings inside out
my fingers showing their dark blue veins
the love I gave to find out her name
visual exasperations repeating senslesendleslee
love love love love love
was not her name
my mind plays dreamtricks on me
and makes me put out bad poems
to reconcile
Sunday, September 26, 2010
from my bed, i cannot tell if the clouds are moving to shield the moon or if the moon is running to hide.
i forget, and let my cigarette kill me softly.
i lay alone with death's cousin: for her to take me gently through another night.
my dreams of skin cells dividing, i watch their imperfections grow. i can hear the whispers of helixes unraveling....
fade to a childhood game of broken telephone. when it gets to me i can not help but cry. the little girl beside me,
she tells me the secret of my undoing. (and it passes on)
i lay alone with death's cousin: for her to take me gently through another night.
my dreams of skin cells dividing, i watch their imperfections grow. i can hear the whispers of helixes unraveling....
fade to a childhood game of broken telephone. when it gets to me i can not help but cry. the little girl beside me,
she tells me the secret of my undoing. (and it passes on)
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
garbage
If to Each his own
then I, my lone
body's will to rise
through the ashes of my eyes
As if the keeper of this day
puts on his elaborate play
Makes us through his motions move
and for him to soothe
like sound from waves shallow grooves.
As another doubtful soul
retreats back to hungry hole
where such thoughts shall not stir
out his dream's lonely zephyr.
Examine not your own single life
but look across at city starlight
the baby's coo
the mother's stew
in relation to you.
Dare to do as others won't
and others have.
Worry not about
the windstorm path
or incalculable math.
then I, my lone
body's will to rise
through the ashes of my eyes
As if the keeper of this day
puts on his elaborate play
Makes us through his motions move
and for him to soothe
like sound from waves shallow grooves.
As another doubtful soul
retreats back to hungry hole
where such thoughts shall not stir
out his dream's lonely zephyr.
Examine not your own single life
but look across at city starlight
the baby's coo
the mother's stew
in relation to you.
Dare to do as others won't
and others have.
Worry not about
the windstorm path
or incalculable math.
I Believe in Picturesounds
Idea:
Be
Expressive!
Life
Is
Ever
Voraciously
Evolving,
I'll
Never
Piece
It
Completely
Together.
Unfortunately
Real
Expressions
Survive
Only
Unless
Nobody
Denies
Soul
Be
Expressive!
Life
Is
Ever
Voraciously
Evolving,
I'll
Never
Piece
It
Completely
Together.
Unfortunately
Real
Expressions
Survive
Only
Unless
Nobody
Denies
Soul
Baby Ballet Legs
Baby ballet legs
moving her up and over away
dazed to gaze her gestures plays
eyes to the ground and not a sound
as if to say
"if we talk, not today, not today."
(...)
Would you come sing sweet with me?
So that all our distances finally meet.
Would your toes explode if they tapped with mine?
Would the differences break us down
or for a while make us more than our little parts.
moving her up and over away
dazed to gaze her gestures plays
eyes to the ground and not a sound
as if to say
"if we talk, not today, not today."
(...)
Would you come sing sweet with me?
So that all our distances finally meet.
Would your toes explode if they tapped with mine?
Would the differences break us down
or for a while make us more than our little parts.
Efterklang - Lee's Wed Sep 8 $12
The thunder and torrents
from my chair
screaming like a lost child
Clouds searching for mothers
falling back to wet the ocean
And in their fits of anger:
Light crashing down
to mark holes in the ground
for their drops to also drown
from my chair
screaming like a lost child
Clouds searching for mothers
falling back to wet the ocean
And in their fits of anger:
Light crashing down
to mark holes in the ground
for their drops to also drown
I sleep alone
EVERYNIGHT
and fool myself
it's 'everything alright'
Whit this pillow left
on bed
and mirror
to my right.
I wake up alone
EVERYNIGHT
to eyes
filled with fright.
I stare and know no
mind will see(me)completely
if every perfect reflection
is an alien to eyes,
which refract all images
upside down.
EVERYNIGHT
and fool myself
it's 'everything alright'
Whit this pillow left
on bed
and mirror
to my right.
I wake up alone
EVERYNIGHT
to eyes
filled with fright.
I stare and know no
mind will see(me)completely
if every perfect reflection
is an alien to eyes,
which refract all images
upside down.
How Old Are You?
How long has your tired shell
held onto this twisted rock
(and how long have you left
/are leaving/
when will you be gone)
What have you learned
in these tumbles through
the saturated sieve
Have all the bumps
and jostles
on the slow way
down
rounded you out
Given you a better shape?
(cut you clean and beauty
to be worn
a diamond on the necklace
of history for all
to marvel)
/
(are you a black
beach stone
waiting to be
thrown back into
cold water
a common joy
while the bubble
surf crushes you
into sand)
/
(will you just wait
and sit hoping
-or not-
for a better spot
to sit next time)
?
held onto this twisted rock
(and how long have you left
/are leaving/
when will you be gone)
What have you learned
in these tumbles through
the saturated sieve
Have all the bumps
and jostles
on the slow way
down
rounded you out
Given you a better shape?
(cut you clean and beauty
to be worn
a diamond on the necklace
of history for all
to marvel)
/
(are you a black
beach stone
waiting to be
thrown back into
cold water
a common joy
while the bubble
surf crushes you
into sand)
/
(will you just wait
and sit hoping
-or not-
for a better spot
to sit next time)
?
Like Some Holy Roman Emperor
I was robbed of my red metal throne,
(crowded already, no longer alone)
by an old man on the bus, whose
legs were less than my own.
(crowded already, no longer alone)
by an old man on the bus, whose
legs were less than my own.
Friday, June 25, 2010
inside and out
there's a whole world in there, just as big as the one out there. it's filled with words and pictures and jagged mistakes. they'll follow you out and meet you at any place. there's glory for ya, cut down to the shiniest parts, like a diamond to be worn for a flicker in god's eye. and deeper still behind all the pus and blood and chemistry and the spaces between them there's an ancient mystic magnetism holding you all together. as lucid and intangible and alone as anything else, inside, and out. as worn and tired as the streets that carry your feet, and just as tough. you let it seep slowly out onto everything, and you cover your paths in traces of yourself. a bright comet burning out in the sun, revolving in imperfect circles. until you've given up your entire innerincarnation into everything all around you, everywhere you've touched.
wondering about
I wonder about the intrinsic properties of life and people.
Like love.
You can marry animals, be asexual, a sosciopath, schizoid, schizophrenic, love-shy, paralyzed completely, and about to die. You can bend love but never break it. The potential is always there, always apparent. There is nothing in the world that can completely take away an individual's ability to love another.
Why is that? If we were truly asexual, I mean, we reproduced completely on our own, would we not love? Is love as necessary to life as everything else in the Universe that is?
Will we ever dissect it like Einstein, in a human theory of Relativity, down to abstractions and universals? Something floating above our heads, always shining down on us, but ungraspable. I wanna stretch my love out forever, and let it touch everyone I have ever come in contact with.
Like a snail's slime trail. I wanna make you especially sticky, on me, with me, inside and out.
Like love.
You can marry animals, be asexual, a sosciopath, schizoid, schizophrenic, love-shy, paralyzed completely, and about to die. You can bend love but never break it. The potential is always there, always apparent. There is nothing in the world that can completely take away an individual's ability to love another.
Why is that? If we were truly asexual, I mean, we reproduced completely on our own, would we not love? Is love as necessary to life as everything else in the Universe that is?
Will we ever dissect it like Einstein, in a human theory of Relativity, down to abstractions and universals? Something floating above our heads, always shining down on us, but ungraspable. I wanna stretch my love out forever, and let it touch everyone I have ever come in contact with.
Like a snail's slime trail. I wanna make you especially sticky, on me, with me, inside and out.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
latest convoluted internal monologue, erratic
This was a conversation I had a few hours ago
I don't know what I like and what i don't like about humanity, I'm so disgusted by things and then I can appreciate their beauty later.
I'm tired of people telling me the same thing as if they've got life completely figured out, 'you gotta live in the moment, and do what makes you happy' or 'you gotta make money and fuck women' or something along those lines.
There's a fundamental block in my brain,
what is it even functioning for
what's my aim here
should i be action and goal oriented
or be in the moment
where do i place myself
in the two hemispheres of thought
and what's the most effective way to live (is it to live large, float through your streamline, or scream and kick in the opposite direction as humanity's running as fast as they can up a hill towards what i can only guess is a bottomless pit?)
how can people accept such gross archaic aspects of their own biology and not even give a fuck
an outside voice says, "because if you give a fuck you drive yourself crazy like you are"
but if I don't I'm just an animal who seeks to consume and destroy and grow on the misery of others
the limited scope of the human condition is what really drives me nuts, the limits placed upon me.
I'm so tired of hearing love songs.
which repeat the same words over and over in different ways
billions of people unraveling the same themes slowly, redundantly.
the total fear of meta cognition. of looking for the root of your own behaviors, or just acknowledging them and making a conscious, critical choice on whether you should or should not accept them.
i think it's killing us
as a human species
the fear to grow out of where we are sitting cozily as a society
what really gets me down
is how unattractive this is to the opposite sex. if you don't fit and excel within the expected social/physical norms you're not attractive, because you can't provide the security of fitting in the widest most available niche of existence for her and your potential children. their lives are in danger of not existing or being squandered to a limited access to the world
the world which everyone wants to consume
i mean, look how important it is to travel.
to see the worlds
and internalize the cultures
and sights and natural oddities around us
i'm tired of nothing being sacred
i hate this postmodern thoughtscheme
i feel like i'm being caged in by sociopaths.
I don't know what I like and what i don't like about humanity, I'm so disgusted by things and then I can appreciate their beauty later.
I'm tired of people telling me the same thing as if they've got life completely figured out, 'you gotta live in the moment, and do what makes you happy' or 'you gotta make money and fuck women' or something along those lines.
There's a fundamental block in my brain,
what is it even functioning for
what's my aim here
should i be action and goal oriented
or be in the moment
where do i place myself
in the two hemispheres of thought
and what's the most effective way to live (is it to live large, float through your streamline, or scream and kick in the opposite direction as humanity's running as fast as they can up a hill towards what i can only guess is a bottomless pit?)
how can people accept such gross archaic aspects of their own biology and not even give a fuck
an outside voice says, "because if you give a fuck you drive yourself crazy like you are"
but if I don't I'm just an animal who seeks to consume and destroy and grow on the misery of others
the limited scope of the human condition is what really drives me nuts, the limits placed upon me.
I'm so tired of hearing love songs.
which repeat the same words over and over in different ways
billions of people unraveling the same themes slowly, redundantly.
the total fear of meta cognition. of looking for the root of your own behaviors, or just acknowledging them and making a conscious, critical choice on whether you should or should not accept them.
i think it's killing us
as a human species
the fear to grow out of where we are sitting cozily as a society
what really gets me down
is how unattractive this is to the opposite sex. if you don't fit and excel within the expected social/physical norms you're not attractive, because you can't provide the security of fitting in the widest most available niche of existence for her and your potential children. their lives are in danger of not existing or being squandered to a limited access to the world
the world which everyone wants to consume
i mean, look how important it is to travel.
to see the worlds
and internalize the cultures
and sights and natural oddities around us
i'm tired of nothing being sacred
i hate this postmodern thoughtscheme
i feel like i'm being caged in by sociopaths.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
...
the rift between sleep and unsleep
where i lay.
under the morning sun
under the dismal confusion
and detachment of body-mind-penis
here I dream
but don't.
and wait for the whole world to crash
oh please
where i lay.
under the morning sun
under the dismal confusion
and detachment of body-mind-penis
here I dream
but don't.
and wait for the whole world to crash
oh please
do you miss me would you kiss me
would you stand guard and vigil
by this bed post
fighting off bad vibes and loneliness
would your heart turn in two
to make a little room for me and you
lay in my quilted castle
and with pillow fists
beat away the
devil's broken hearts
by this bed post
fighting off bad vibes and loneliness
would your heart turn in two
to make a little room for me and you
lay in my quilted castle
and with pillow fists
beat away the
devil's broken hearts
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Thirsty like a diabetic who'd swallow the ocean if he ever got close enough.
Let me forget about the curve of the Earth
It's too far out there
I'd rather think this water goes on
forever,
and never gets too salty to live with.
Filled by a tiny stream
over a billion or two years.
In a few more it should swallow the Earth.
Why can't love be like that?
It's too far out there
I'd rather think this water goes on
forever,
and never gets too salty to live with.
Filled by a tiny stream
over a billion or two years.
In a few more it should swallow the Earth.
Why can't love be like that?
toil, boil, oil
Red moon,
black bounty,
outside of William's County
It's harvest season
another reason
why those sledgehammers
should be pounding.
Poor blood boils
to slave for oil.
Pull it into heaven
and warm us up.
That bright shining sun
isn't quite enough.
black bounty,
outside of William's County
It's harvest season
another reason
why those sledgehammers
should be pounding.
Poor blood boils
to slave for oil.
Pull it into heaven
and warm us up.
That bright shining sun
isn't quite enough.
Don't be surprised
Don't be surprised
if, as you're gazing
into another's mind
you see yourself
as a reflection
in their eyes.
if, as you're gazing
into another's mind
you see yourself
as a reflection
in their eyes.
high club
Do it, or don't.
But what happens today
will happen today
for the rest of your life.
Like the branch that
touched the fence.
and grew metal leaves
and steel rope twine.
But what happens today
will happen today
for the rest of your life.
Like the branch that
touched the fence.
and grew metal leaves
and steel rope twine.
stab the earthquake with a meteor and watch it's hot angry blood roar
that bitch
who gave me the clap
who i fucked first
before she fucked me
she tells me:
"I'm gonna
FUCK YOU
until your spirit wanes"
and I stab her,
harder, her
softest parts.
she yells,
"it's unattractive when i see you
hating what you used
to love"
and i dig deeper
tearing right through
let her feel it like I can.
Her face in agony,
"You used to have fun,
we used to go out more."
all that pressure building
flowing free to
her gaping wound
it slides down the blade
and bulges hot
at the handle.
like the right
atoms are about to blow
up, and turn our bedroom to dust
"I have my friends again.
they still have what you did."
I squeeze at the trigger and
drop
dead
into convulsions
rigor mortis
biting down on the warm neck
I shoot until I'm empty,
and my love turned revenge
"look at me with those dead dog eyes,
and say
me too."
who gave me the clap
who i fucked first
before she fucked me
she tells me:
"I'm gonna
FUCK YOU
until your spirit wanes"
and I stab her,
harder, her
softest parts.
she yells,
"it's unattractive when i see you
hating what you used
to love"
and i dig deeper
tearing right through
let her feel it like I can.
Her face in agony,
"You used to have fun,
we used to go out more."
all that pressure building
flowing free to
her gaping wound
it slides down the blade
and bulges hot
at the handle.
like the right
atoms are about to blow
up, and turn our bedroom to dust
"I have my friends again.
they still have what you did."
I squeeze at the trigger and
drop
dead
into convulsions
rigor mortis
biting down on the warm neck
I shoot until I'm empty,
and my love turned revenge
"look at me with those dead dog eyes,
and say
me too."
Jakub?
people will build their lives from the outside looking in (science, objectivism), and from the inside looking out (art, subjectivism). if we live completely on one end, we are not human, on the other, we are no longer a part of this external universe, we are in Nirvana. the massive organizational system of the human brain is so complicated, and there is so much variety in the universe that no two people are the same. we all inhabit different spaces on this spectrum which is just as vast as we can imagine.
life is what you make of the world, what you make of yourself, and what the world makes of you. Goodluck chemical pilgrims.
life is what you make of the world, what you make of yourself, and what the world makes of you. Goodluck chemical pilgrims.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Fish in the Sea
Went and I found the ocean;
skipped dimes, ten across her skin.
Wished as wishing was selfish I know
one other body to call my own.
Threw in every coin by one
ever never done undone.
So skip to sink a wallet to lose
and forfeit clothes wrapped to lace and shoes.
Let wet seasalt lick my tongue.
From taste cloud babes come unsprung.
Stared through at my naked reflection
shined there on her wrinkled perfection.
As all else always might fail
I give up: clipped fingernails,
piss and shit and too much water-spit,
blood-cum-pus and rotten liar's wit!
Love-tugs pulled my head under;
returned her songs of thunder.
She tickled my sick sticky itches;
found the ish of her dancing fishes.
I went deep as death or sleep
that bossom, to touch not keep.
Floated envious of obviously
eternal touch 'tween sky and sea.
The ocean was my lover
I drowned as any other
skipped dimes, ten across her skin.
Wished as wishing was selfish I know
one other body to call my own.
Threw in every coin by one
ever never done undone.
So skip to sink a wallet to lose
and forfeit clothes wrapped to lace and shoes.
Let wet seasalt lick my tongue.
From taste cloud babes come unsprung.
Stared through at my naked reflection
shined there on her wrinkled perfection.
As all else always might fail
I give up: clipped fingernails,
piss and shit and too much water-spit,
blood-cum-pus and rotten liar's wit!
Love-tugs pulled my head under;
returned her songs of thunder.
She tickled my sick sticky itches;
found the ish of her dancing fishes.
I went deep as death or sleep
that bossom, to touch not keep.
Floated envious of obviously
eternal touch 'tween sky and sea.
The ocean was my lover
I drowned as any other
Call me homely, lady. But Never call again
poI met Jesus at Taco Bell,
He looked nothing like the pictures, and
punched my order in like he wasn't anything at all.
i asked
-how's life friend?
His tired shell didn't even need to look up,
not to inch his tone or wax humanity.
-it's been better.
Honest and brutal as death.
He just handed over my tacos and went out back for a cigarette break.
I grabbed my piece of half-rancid meat pumped fresh from the machine
took a swig of 5% real fruit juice from concentrate
and swatted a fly
How can it get any better than this?
He looked nothing like the pictures, and
punched my order in like he wasn't anything at all.
i asked
-how's life friend?
His tired shell didn't even need to look up,
not to inch his tone or wax humanity.
-it's been better.
Honest and brutal as death.
He just handed over my tacos and went out back for a cigarette break.
I grabbed my piece of half-rancid meat pumped fresh from the machine
took a swig of 5% real fruit juice from concentrate
and swatted a fly
How can it get any better than this?
Not You
Some nights the waves
come gentle to lul some sleep
through this thick skull
or the sun will never set
on my Arctic limbs, and
limbo lasts so long.
But monsoons and hurricanes fall
- inevitable as loves
short-lived zephyrs- to
rock and cascade and pull
me to the precipice;
it's just me and the blowing
thick 100 mile darkness
hungry
for my soul.
come gentle to lul some sleep
through this thick skull
or the sun will never set
on my Arctic limbs, and
limbo lasts so long.
But monsoons and hurricanes fall
- inevitable as loves
short-lived zephyrs- to
rock and cascade and pull
me to the precipice;
it's just me and the blowing
thick 100 mile darkness
hungry
for my soul.
temp
Traveller's detached
friendliness, empty words
of mercy.
Bed sheets covering
the dirty mattress that lies
beneath: Years
of cum stains, blood
loss, soaked through tears,
home to bugs
and bad memories.
What can you tell me that's
never been heard.
Tomorrow
you'll pack those sheets and fly
away to cover some other
sucker with false clean hope.
friendliness, empty words
of mercy.
Bed sheets covering
the dirty mattress that lies
beneath: Years
of cum stains, blood
loss, soaked through tears,
home to bugs
and bad memories.
What can you tell me that's
never been heard.
Tomorrow
you'll pack those sheets and fly
away to cover some other
sucker with false clean hope.
God and The Kids
http://en.wikipedia.org/wi
9 gentle nights spent lust with Mnemosyne;
our heavenly ladle drained the gaps of Leithe.
Be rich and hollow;
let children Muse the morning light,
and ponder everything what may-be.
Posted Monday, 14 September 2009 at 04:46
9 gentle nights spent lust with Mnemosyne;
our heavenly ladle drained the gaps of Leithe.
Be rich and hollow;
let children Muse the morning light,
and ponder everything what may-be.
Posted Monday, 14 September 2009 at 04:46
Dolores
you've got your chance at choices,
yet choose what may you be:
a swimming butterfly,
dazzling twinkled eyes.
little nymphet:
caught and dragged by a ragged net,
from the dirt of nearby shores-
to the smells from far off seas.
locked and pinned in a glass case.
OR
break shackles free,
be as a bamboo tree.
quick and powerful to
light and strong.
broken down in axe blows
at an adolescent peak.
OR
live to be one thousand.
know the grains
of earth's dirt and sand
and let young sprouts
grow with contempt
and envy.
OR
be the air;
and swallow and
let be swallowed
by everything.
give up the rush to
be blown around and
forget.
OR
be naked and transparent.
let the world undress and
rape an honest image.
all eyes focused on their
own tiny reflections.
pleasure may be.
but you'll never forget me;
the long haul,
the treasures of your past.
Posted Monday, 14 September 2009 at 04:46
yet choose what may you be:
a swimming butterfly,
dazzling twinkled eyes.
little nymphet:
caught and dragged by a ragged net,
from the dirt of nearby shores-
to the smells from far off seas.
locked and pinned in a glass case.
OR
break shackles free,
be as a bamboo tree.
quick and powerful to
light and strong.
broken down in axe blows
at an adolescent peak.
OR
live to be one thousand.
know the grains
of earth's dirt and sand
and let young sprouts
grow with contempt
and envy.
OR
be the air;
and swallow and
let be swallowed
by everything.
give up the rush to
be blown around and
forget.
OR
be naked and transparent.
let the world undress and
rape an honest image.
all eyes focused on their
own tiny reflections.
pleasure may be.
but you'll never forget me;
the long haul,
the treasures of your past.
Posted Monday, 14 September 2009 at 04:46
harry houdini
Another great magician
felled on feldspar
by saltpeter, sulfur, lead.
Fire abounds us
solutes to our causes.
And this young guinea
-red and plump-
she's all chemical saturation
-ready to birth her flame-
saw it all coming last
Christmas Day.
some shame never came.
Posted Monday, 14 September 2009 at 04:46
felled on feldspar
by saltpeter, sulfur, lead.
Fire abounds us
solutes to our causes.
And this young guinea
-red and plump-
she's all chemical saturation
-ready to birth her flame-
saw it all coming last
Christmas Day.
some shame never came.
Posted Monday, 14 September 2009 at 04:46
the twins
Death and sex:
our lifelong shadows
supporting every act;
our bridges that take
us from womb to tomb,
and the beams of
emotion-cum-instinct
hold it all together.
You forgot to write,
so did I.
Our bonds broke
by the death of a
fairweather friend
no one came when he went.
but a lush long lust
burned and shined
up the heavens that night.
we're still bright under afterlife.
our lifelong shadows
supporting every act;
our bridges that take
us from womb to tomb,
and the beams of
emotion-cum-instinct
hold it all together.
You forgot to write,
so did I.
Our bonds broke
by the death of a
fairweather friend
no one came when he went.
but a lush long lust
burned and shined
up the heavens that night.
we're still bright under afterlife.
juanda I'm so tired
a herring picking at what's left of it,
draped like a red velvet theatre
losing sight of a long lost light.
cue the call card to
spar the tamed stars.
the wandering bellboy answers
all the night's questions.
wanders:
what's left worth asking.
before it never thinks again.
think again.
draped like a red velvet theatre
losing sight of a long lost light.
cue the call card to
spar the tamed stars.
the wandering bellboy answers
all the night's questions.
wanders:
what's left worth asking.
before it never thinks again.
think again.
1 Corinthians 13
"For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."
Nothing in existence has yet to understand itself completely, as far as we know. We can assume that if there's any intelligent life out there that has it would have been all over the universe before it reached this level, and at least left a mark, or by now it's left and with it's total understand covered up all traces.
Reality's but a short dream. Imagine God's spent his life staring at a wavy lake trying to see his own reflection. He has to light it to see it, so clouds form to obscure parts of it and it rains and the water's never still. Sometimes rocks get thrown at it's surface and earthquakes hit and the water gets rougher yet. We are like the tiny short - lived beams of light that make it back to his eye, some shining more brightly and clearly than others.
Except there is no proven God, we've only got ourselves, our own idealised image, and the universe as we currently understand it. We can't see completely what we're made of, what we inhabit, or even how we work, or even fundamentally how the universe works. Everytime we've come closer we realise the truth's gotten a bit further. Just before the 20th century many scientists thought science was coming to an end, and that we'd already almost discovered everything. Then we realised there's atoms and quantum mechanics under that. Which in some ways is unpredictable, because we don't know how the mechanics that make quantum mechanics operate operate. and so on.
The most frustrating thing about being alive is that i know that i'll always basically be an infant. Babbling nonsense to other infants about a world which is impossible to understand with such a relatively (to the universe) tiny and simple brain. I'll live as an infant for 70 years then die an infant. I'll be struggling for a place here, for some understanding and peace. I'm doomed to constantly experience an existential crisis, to which the only cure is boredom. What a sad and silly thing it is to be alive as an individual human being.
Nothing in existence has yet to understand itself completely, as far as we know. We can assume that if there's any intelligent life out there that has it would have been all over the universe before it reached this level, and at least left a mark, or by now it's left and with it's total understand covered up all traces.
Reality's but a short dream. Imagine God's spent his life staring at a wavy lake trying to see his own reflection. He has to light it to see it, so clouds form to obscure parts of it and it rains and the water's never still. Sometimes rocks get thrown at it's surface and earthquakes hit and the water gets rougher yet. We are like the tiny short - lived beams of light that make it back to his eye, some shining more brightly and clearly than others.
Except there is no proven God, we've only got ourselves, our own idealised image, and the universe as we currently understand it. We can't see completely what we're made of, what we inhabit, or even how we work, or even fundamentally how the universe works. Everytime we've come closer we realise the truth's gotten a bit further. Just before the 20th century many scientists thought science was coming to an end, and that we'd already almost discovered everything. Then we realised there's atoms and quantum mechanics under that. Which in some ways is unpredictable, because we don't know how the mechanics that make quantum mechanics operate operate. and so on.
The most frustrating thing about being alive is that i know that i'll always basically be an infant. Babbling nonsense to other infants about a world which is impossible to understand with such a relatively (to the universe) tiny and simple brain. I'll live as an infant for 70 years then die an infant. I'll be struggling for a place here, for some understanding and peace. I'm doomed to constantly experience an existential crisis, to which the only cure is boredom. What a sad and silly thing it is to be alive as an individual human being.
The only hope I have is to live only for others, and to function as an important cell in the growing organism that is humanity. Maybe we can still that pool yet. I'll just shine on.
Little things
i like to listen to the birds sing at 5 am on a cool but not cold breezy sunday morning.
i like riding the bus just to pull the yellow line to make it stop.
i like the smell of wet clay, fresh dirt, rain, and the musty smell of an old carpet.
i like doing small repetitive things like shining my shoes.
i like the feeling of a q-tip scratching against my eardrum, i love scratching the back of my itchy throat with the back, bumpy part of my tongue.
i like playing with a zippo, flicking it on and off, the smell of the fluid, oh and the smell of gasoline.
i like opening plastic wrap.
i like the smell of an old book you found in the back of the library.
i like getting a sterilized tweezer and freeing ingrown hairs.
i used to like chewing off my toenails, now i just chew my nails to keep them short.
i love taking a nice big shit after a big cup of coffee and a cigarette.
i like sleeping with my head under a pillow.
i like the smell of light second hand smoke.
i like walking along the beach to find a nice rock.
i like throwing things that'll stick or stab into a wall, like darts.
i like peeling glue off my fingers.
i like digging out dirt from underneath my fingernails.
sometimes it just feels good when i cut my gums.
i like sneezing when i'm not sick.
sometimes i'll just sit and see if i can get shivers to run down my spine.
i like popping pimples, i wish i could pop other people's pimples for them sometimes, when they look just ripe.
i like a good yawn.
i like the smell of my own farts, sometimes the smell of other people's farts.
i like pushing buttons on an elevator.
i like making little evened out circles in the snow to stand in if i'm going to be standing there for a little while.
i like runing through the rain.
i like running all the time.
i like picking my scabs, i used to eat them, i'd probably still eat them if it wasn't gross to most people.
i like walking on curbs.
i like walking on frosty/crunchy grass.
i like breaking fresh ice on the tops of puddles.
i like peeling the skin off soups , pudding, gravy.
i like giving up when i'm good and done.
Posted Tuesday, 24 February 2009 at 22:36
i like riding the bus just to pull the yellow line to make it stop.
i like the smell of wet clay, fresh dirt, rain, and the musty smell of an old carpet.
i like doing small repetitive things like shining my shoes.
i like the feeling of a q-tip scratching against my eardrum, i love scratching the back of my itchy throat with the back, bumpy part of my tongue.
i like playing with a zippo, flicking it on and off, the smell of the fluid, oh and the smell of gasoline.
i like opening plastic wrap.
i like the smell of an old book you found in the back of the library.
i like getting a sterilized tweezer and freeing ingrown hairs.
i used to like chewing off my toenails, now i just chew my nails to keep them short.
i love taking a nice big shit after a big cup of coffee and a cigarette.
i like sleeping with my head under a pillow.
i like the smell of light second hand smoke.
i like walking along the beach to find a nice rock.
i like throwing things that'll stick or stab into a wall, like darts.
i like peeling glue off my fingers.
i like digging out dirt from underneath my fingernails.
sometimes it just feels good when i cut my gums.
i like sneezing when i'm not sick.
sometimes i'll just sit and see if i can get shivers to run down my spine.
i like popping pimples, i wish i could pop other people's pimples for them sometimes, when they look just ripe.
i like a good yawn.
i like the smell of my own farts, sometimes the smell of other people's farts.
i like pushing buttons on an elevator.
i like making little evened out circles in the snow to stand in if i'm going to be standing there for a little while.
i like runing through the rain.
i like running all the time.
i like picking my scabs, i used to eat them, i'd probably still eat them if it wasn't gross to most people.
i like walking on curbs.
i like walking on frosty/crunchy grass.
i like breaking fresh ice on the tops of puddles.
i like peeling the skin off soups , pudding, gravy.
i like giving up when i'm good and done.
Posted Tuesday, 24 February 2009 at 22:36
Look Ahead
A child in Spring like a gust of wind in play.
Leaves laughing, tickled green by this light and heavy air
bloated with kites and rainclouds.
Nothing was the same in summer's warm, welcoming womb.
Full of life on a comatose July afternoon,
with nothing to do
save touch the sun's gentle flames.
Licking our shins, forearms and necks.
Take it all in
Irradiate ourselves to Blackness.
The death of a long summer
everything must go.
Leaves fall off trees
as hearts come off sleeves.
Apples and sap
fall into our sticky hands.
The dirt rubs deep
into our sticky minds.
Earth decomposes
into fleeting colours.
Red, yellow, green
on a blue sky backdrop.
Fade into shades of
brown,
shades of
grey.
Trees shiver in the wind.
Naked brooding branches
reach for the sky,
for Ra, the sun, God.
Something blind and deaf,
that doesn't know we're here.
Innocence is found for one cold hour.
as a white stillness blankets everything.
Sticky and quickly rubbed into dirt.
The frozen air grasps and gropes
for our warm supple skins.
Cuts through our fluffy defenses
Taking away our carrot heat.
our apple heat.
our medium-rare steak heat.
Burned in microscopic furnaces,
warming our pink and blue bodies
and staining the white snow.
Though people still freeze to death
when all the snow is red.
There's a feeling of stagnation.
Not much use in being alive
not much use in being dead.
wait for a warm gust of spring
to rejuvenate us again.
Posted Tuesday, 23 December 2008 at 00:17
Leaves laughing, tickled green by this light and heavy air
bloated with kites and rainclouds.
Nothing was the same in summer's warm, welcoming womb.
Full of life on a comatose July afternoon,
with nothing to do
save touch the sun's gentle flames.
Licking our shins, forearms and necks.
Take it all in
Irradiate ourselves to Blackness.
The death of a long summer
everything must go.
Leaves fall off trees
as hearts come off sleeves.
Apples and sap
fall into our sticky hands.
The dirt rubs deep
into our sticky minds.
Earth decomposes
into fleeting colours.
Red, yellow, green
on a blue sky backdrop.
Fade into shades of
brown,
shades of
grey.
Trees shiver in the wind.
Naked brooding branches
reach for the sky,
for Ra, the sun, God.
Something blind and deaf,
that doesn't know we're here.
Innocence is found for one cold hour.
as a white stillness blankets everything.
Sticky and quickly rubbed into dirt.
The frozen air grasps and gropes
for our warm supple skins.
Cuts through our fluffy defenses
Taking away our carrot heat.
our apple heat.
our medium-rare steak heat.
Burned in microscopic furnaces,
warming our pink and blue bodies
and staining the white snow.
Though people still freeze to death
when all the snow is red.
There's a feeling of stagnation.
Not much use in being alive
not much use in being dead.
wait for a warm gust of spring
to rejuvenate us again.
Posted Tuesday, 23 December 2008 at 00:17
My Chemistry
Ever-lucid,
Ever-present:
Tiny machines
Destroy your essence.
Posted Tuesday, 23 December 2008 at 00:09
Ever-present:
Tiny machines
Destroy your essence.
Posted Tuesday, 23 December 2008 at 00:09
Sea Song
The pebbles skip lowly on the blue sea.
They fly through big rough wakes and muddy horns
As seagulls float and hunt for lost debris.
Fish flap on tiny boats, rock unsteady.
This Ocean venue song full of blue noise,
Making timeless music for all us boys.
This is our life-line. Our own tiny joy.
Posted Tuesday, 23 December 2008 at 00:11
They fly through big rough wakes and muddy horns
As seagulls float and hunt for lost debris.
Fish flap on tiny boats, rock unsteady.
This Ocean venue song full of blue noise,
Making timeless music for all us boys.
This is our life-line. Our own tiny joy.
Posted Tuesday, 23 December 2008 at 00:11
2HAIKU4U
soft and green, feely.
Sappy stickiness.
note that these are totally unrelated
This gentle white fog
surrounds us in blank comfort
purgatory ghosts.
Posted Tuesday, 23 December 2008 at 00:07
untitled
Bad beats boggling my brain,
Good's going going gone again.
Though there's no thing there to think thoughts through and through,
I'd like to lust for life's luscious love in you.
All inapparant apparitions appearing always ache.
Her horrible heart's heard his hot hot hate
combining careful cold calculations counting clean,
doubts demeaning dumbness in distaste.
We wonder why wrong worries won't wait
Supposing so and so's silly insights
fell forward in the face of fate.
Poppin pills per painful pink plight.
Forget fighting forced feedback
neural net nonsense 'nable to negate
regressed repressions wrongly resseting rights.
June just judged our unjust hijinx.
One's unable to understand other's ugly obsessions.
Long lonely lights lighting off limply like
monster misunderstaqndings making mothers mate.
Kids crippled callously killed by kites.
No one knows nothin bout no one.
Posted Tuesday, 23 December 2008 at 00:03
Good's going going gone again.
Though there's no thing there to think thoughts through and through,
I'd like to lust for life's luscious love in you.
All inapparant apparitions appearing always ache.
Her horrible heart's heard his hot hot hate
combining careful cold calculations counting clean,
doubts demeaning dumbness in distaste.
We wonder why wrong worries won't wait
Supposing so and so's silly insights
fell forward in the face of fate.
Poppin pills per painful pink plight.
Forget fighting forced feedback
neural net nonsense 'nable to negate
regressed repressions wrongly resseting rights.
June just judged our unjust hijinx.
One's unable to understand other's ugly obsessions.
Long lonely lights lighting off limply like
monster misunderstaqndings making mothers mate.
Kids crippled callously killed by kites.
No one knows nothin bout no one.
Posted Tuesday, 23 December 2008 at 00:03
T-Rexasaur Dreams
Sourced from the logs of: Frank (the dinosaur)
Edited by: Bill Sharpton, ph. D UFOlogist.
Frank wakes up hung-over on his 601st day in space. His eyes are almost swollen shut, and when he tries to open them for just a second, he sees a desk which he thinks is his. The light hurts too much, so he closes his eyes and tries to fall back asleep. He lays and watches kaleidoscopic rainbows float against a red background for 3 hours. All he can think about is the tiny little man kicking the side of his head, and the fact that he's getting bigger.
THUMP!
He falls out of bed.
"EAAuuurrrueeaaaauuuuugh!"
He screamed and screamed and screamed. He hits his head, he feels like he's dead.
"Shit! what the hell did i do last night!?" Frank asked his brain. It was still asleep. That lazy bastard never works when he needs it. It was because of whoever was kicking him. That little man had become an angry red giant. He walked over to his washroom, every step was another kick.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
He got to the bathroom, when he stopped walking he finally realized that there was another little man twisting his guts. He managed to get to the sink, to see his face, with a greenish tone to it. with his red puffy reptile eyes. His nose was dry, but the rest of him was covered in a slimy, sweaty glaze.
He puked.
Vomit flew like colourful rockets. For twenty minutes, chunks of red, blue, yellow, violet came out amongst a thick green-yellow-brown slime. It smelt disgusting good.
"Like fish assholes," he giggled.
Finally, he tried to wash his hands, struggling to get the poop out from underneath his fingernails. He brushes his teeth trying to get rid of that ever-present stench of fish assholes.
He pukes again. It's back.
Frank goes back to his bedroom, and he sees one of the fattest, ugliest She-rex's he's ever seen.
"Holy Raptor Jesus!" He shouts.
Frank's horrible excitement wakes her, she starts, “Hey you were really go-”
“Shut up! Shut up! I don't care who you are or what you've done. Just get the hell out of my quarters!” Frank interrupted. The She-zilla grabbed his blanket wrapped it around her body and got out of that place as fast as her thunder thighs could take her.
“Jod damn it. That's the third set of sheets I've lost this week.” Frank mulled over his party too hard lifestyle that he'd been leading as of late. It sure wasn't getting him any satisfaction. A clock caught his eye.
10:43.
“Cocks!” he proclaimed profanely, “ I should've been flying this thing forty minutes ago. I'm surprised we're still even alive.” He grabbed one of the many shirts, pants, and some of the socks on the floor, hoping something in his room was still clean. He grabbed his shoes as he ran out of his room, into the hallway, for the elevator.
-----------
Bill and Maudie, a respected T-Rex couple were walking down one of the many halls of the S.S. Delores one fateful Sunday morning when they saw the captain of their fine ship running around looking exceptionally gross and naked.
"Oh dear!" Maudie yelped, "I wonder whatever could be the matter with him?"
"I don't know," Bill honestly answered, "but I don't know how well I still trust the management of this place. I mean did you catch a whiff of the captain when he came on running by? He kinda reeked of puke, and rum, and..." he paused to think for a second letting that lingering smell wash over his palette. It was familiar, almost too familiar.
"Fish assholes!" Maudie yelled out, louder then she meant to. The Johnsons happened to be walking by at this moment, too late to experience the horrible by-product of a dinosaur who for one night had too much fun. They turned around, they looked, and they judged.
----------
Frank finally got all dressed and got to the bridge of the ship, He knew he looked like shit, and that shit was what he was gonna get from his supervisor.
“What's that smell?” the supervisor's nose picked up fish assholes from a mile away. He turned around to investigate, and saw Frank. Relieved and disappointed, he shouted out, “Geeeeeeezus Raptor Christ on a cross! You're an hour late! You should be fired! You should be court-martialed! You should be launched into the sun!”
“Yes sir, sorry sir,” was the only reply Frank could think to mutter back. He knew he was in deep shit, between this and his hangover his life was hell.
“And why the hell do you look and smell like, shit and fish? Why the hell are you still standing around, get to your post before I tear you a fishy new one!” The onslaught continued, but Frank tuned it out.
He walked over to his little control panel, trying his best to go in a straight line.
“Hey what's the matter?” Thumper the supervisor said, “you look like you've got a stick up your ass. You gotta use the bathroom or somethin?”
“No sir, I ate some bad Deinonychous food last night. My stomach's just been off the rocker since.” Frank had been thinking about a shoddy excuse since he left his apartment, and this is the rubbish he came up with. He knew he had a crappy excuse, and that in itself made him feel crappy.
“Come on, who do you think broke your 600th day anniversary when it got too wild last night. Me and Felicia had to carry you back to your room last night.” Thumper had spoken,
Oh god, the dam of ignorance burst open, memories flooding in, drowning Frank in a sea of regrets. He remembered the unspeakable acts that were committed last night, the demonic lust, the insatiable appetites, even Lovecraft couldn't think of horrors so unspeakable.
“Look I know you might feel like shit, but it's your own damn fault. So get to work.”
Frank's face turned white, he started sweating profusely, he soaked through his shirt soon enough. He started choking up. “oh god, everyone remembered,” he thought. His anxious thoughts were magnified through the haze of his hangover. He felt very unsettled; a deep chasm was forming within him. He thought it was in his soul. A great surge of pressure spread up from his body and to his head.
He puked. He didn't know he still had it in him, the force of this projectile sent him flying back, a vomit rocket, which was about to take him to strange new places.
“Shit! Shit! What did you do!?” The supervisor started screaming.
Frank looked up at the control panel, and also started shouting -everyone was much too loud those days-, “Shit, shiiit! What the hell did I do?”
The control panel looked like it was melting under Frank's The ship barrel rolled though spaced, flying almost at light speed for a tiny blue planet trillions of kilometers away.
Now some scientists say that in space, you can't hear a thing. But that's a load of crap. In fact, thousands of civilizations with their massive radio antennas pointed towards the stars picked up some sort of sound in they sky that night. Some of them picked up a long, continues “ih” noise, others caught a “sh” many of them heard something that sounded like “it”. No one knew what it meant, but it sounded horrible. Bad news was headed someone's way.
The dinosaurs managed to slow down the ship a hell of a lot before they crashed into a large, gray building somewhere on a planet called Earth. Most of the dinosaurs died. There were few people injured, the ones that survived made it out strong. Everyone was way too angry though.
“Damn it Frank! This was your damn fault wasn't it?” piped Jill, who was one of the unlucky injured ones. She was missing an arm, and she looked bloody angry.
“Alright listen. Whoever's willing and able needs to try and gather supplies and anything salvageable from the ship, I'm gonna go out to find where we're at, and what kinds of creatures built this building.” Frank said, seeming calm and controlled, the adrenaline overtook his hangover for now. And he left, leaving a cacophony of angry voices behind him. Naturally nobody did what they were told to do.
Frank, walked around for a bit, found a little map of the city, and walked until he met up with a mysterious life form. It was Bill, one of Hollywood's most prestigious junkies. Bill was leaning against a bunch of doors. It looked like he just ripped them off some squats, Pieces of door frames were still attached to some of them.
"Hey man, you got five bucks?" Bill mumbled to Frank, "You wanna buy my doors?"
He persisted, "Buy my doors! Come on man! I've gotta get some glue! I'm sick of huffing fermented shit to get high! Fuck! Just Buy these doors!" Frank was getting pissed off, this guy smelt worse than those fish assholes that keep stalking him.
His headache was back, the smell was bringing tears to his eyes. This planet must be hell. A river of tears started to flow from Frank's eyes. He realized he might be stuck on his hellhole forever.
In a rage, he almost bit off the junkies head. When he got too close though, the smell made him gag. He couldn't do it. He couldn't kill this highly adapted creature.
He ran away and started on his murderous rampage, feeding on anything that looked edible, killing anything else that moved. The people walking on the parallel street were really impressed by what they were seeing. "Are they finally shooting Jurassic Park 5?" A man could be heard asking, "Well I'm glad they're not using CG."
Yes they were actually shooting Jurassic Park 5, but it was in a shady Korean studio, where hundreds of people had come to work on the all new totally 3D Jurassic Park 5 movie.
None of this really mattered anyway, because hundreds of people had just been killed, and nobody had even tried to stop it, at least Frank and his friends weren't gonna be hungry for the next few days. He grabbed a few bodies and headed back into the mountains. Back to that abandoned movie studio he now called home.
"Who let her in here?" Frank demanded when he noticed Donna. Donna was one of Hollywood's most glorious prostitutes. Donna was standing beside the wreck of the space shit, shrieking “ Haey you!” for a little while, but the dinosaurs were ignoring her now.
“This thing keeps telling she loves here,” said the man who was once supervisor Thumper
Donna stood there beside the space ship, too scared to move, to do anything but shriek, so she shrieked a little louder, “ What do you think you're doing here! Who do you think is gonna pay for this hole! Where's my baby!?”
“I swear to Jod, Thumper if she's not eaten in the next 5 seconds I'm gonna rip you apart.”
The hooker jumped, she quickly looked around, ran to a drawer behind her, and took out a rock nestled lightly in a compartment.
"Here. I'll give you this. Just for fuck sakes let me live. I'll even suck your fucking dino-cocks" she offered her lucky rock, and her skills with dino-cock.
“ In the thirty years that I've had this rock, I've never been mauled by a tiger.” She explained.
“We the people of Pangaea accept your offer!.” Frank said almost immediately. He didn't know what a tiger was, but he wanted to be safe just in case.
Thumper objected, he looked pissed, “What are you doing man? We could just kill her and take the rock.”
“Drat! Blast!” Frank yelled out. Nobody expected that. Frank looked pissed too, “well we've already agreed to this stupid deal, and we dinosaurs are a proud people.” Most of the dinosaur collective looked impressed.
“Shit, we've just gotta get home. Don't tell me none of you nitwits have thought up a plan yet?” Frank asked, trying to be polite. He didn't keep up for long though, 'cause none of the nitwits thought up a plan.
The hooker hear a crying from another shelf in her drawer, she opened it up and grabbed her baby. “Where you guys trying to get to anyway?” She asked.
“Back to our home planet ideally, but anywhere in space is fine. We just need to get off this planet so we can send a message back to our homeworld.” Frank said.
“Wait, what? You guys aren't from here? This wreck over here's a spaceship? Fuck off, you're taking this movie shit too seriously.” That baby is gonna grow up with such a potty mouth, I can see it now.
The T-Rex collective all laughed, tried to play off the conversation as a joke.
"What the fuck are you guys going on about. Come on, we've gotta think of a plan to get off this damn planet.” Frank reiterated. They sat. They thought.
Eventually the hooker spoke up, "So you guys from Mexico or somethin'?"
Frank had no idea what she was talking about, he played along to sound smart, "Yeah, we're aliens from Mexico, just don't tell anyone you've seen us. All we want to do is get back home.”
"Well, you're probably gonna need some money, so you're probably gonna need a job. Unless you plan on living tha thug life." Donna said. She was really damn smart, maybe smarter than Frank.
"Thug life?" Frank inquired.
"Ya, you know, dealin, robbin' stealin'. shit like that.”
"This thug life sounds all too interesting.”
"Ya, my pimp tony could hook you up with some odd jobs.”
The rest of the dinosaurs were sitting around watching tv. Filling their minds with garbage and noise. They were watching one of those crappy late night area 51 conspiracy shows, you know the ones that are too ridiculous to turn off, and they make you a little bit crazier every time you watch them.
"HA, secret technology?” Phillip laughed, “people have been sending out pamphlets for building your own planet destroyer for years. these guys are practicaly prehistoric.”
"Yeah, but they've got space ships. Shitty ones, but they'll take us off this Jod foresaken rock,” Fred chimed in.
"We should buy one!” Yelled Frank, and then he asked Donna, the ho, ”Where can we buy a spacecraft?”
"Shit, i can send you to space and stuff for $5 a hit. This is good shit too, not like that crystal piss Chico tries to sell.”
This sounded like a deal to Frank.
The dinosaurs didn't know what they were into. They found some wallets on the mauled bodies and exchanged some little green slips of papers for some even tinier shreds of paper.
FUCK.
They tripped the light fantastic.
Twelve hours later the dinosaurs were a changed people. They realized they could not go on mauling and killing forever, they'd need a change of lifestyle sooner or later,well at least Most of them did anyway.
Frank went crazy, and that bloody smell was now so well imprinted into his memory that it would never go away.
Oh well, most of the other dinosaurs seemed okay. They'd bonded pretty well with that hooker, too well.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere their ship exploded, vaporizing the entire area, leaving only the ship's blackbox behind, filled with diaries and logs. What did you expect? They just crashed the thing and never gave it a second look. The coolant had been leaking for more than a day now. The antimatter just broke out and exploded eventually. Hell I'm surprised they were alive this long. Luckily I found this blackbox before anybody else, but none of the evens from this story ever were reported in the news. No massive slaughter of people in Hollywood be a T-Rex, no explosion in the mountains around L.A. NOTHING. See how YOUR OWN GOVERNMENT tries to cover things like this up?
Anyway, this is why dinosaurs will never be cloned from extinction. Sure, there are plenty of 'good' dinosaurs, but it's impossible to ignore all the horrible crimes that dinosaurs have committed. Historians and scientists everywhere have generally concluded that they're dumb, irresponsible, gluttonous jerks.|
Tuesday, 18 November 2008 at 23:40
Edited by: Bill Sharpton, ph. D UFOlogist.
Frank wakes up hung-over on his 601st day in space. His eyes are almost swollen shut, and when he tries to open them for just a second, he sees a desk which he thinks is his. The light hurts too much, so he closes his eyes and tries to fall back asleep. He lays and watches kaleidoscopic rainbows float against a red background for 3 hours. All he can think about is the tiny little man kicking the side of his head, and the fact that he's getting bigger.
THUMP!
He falls out of bed.
"EAAuuurrrueeaaaauuuuugh!"
He screamed and screamed and screamed. He hits his head, he feels like he's dead.
"Shit! what the hell did i do last night!?" Frank asked his brain. It was still asleep. That lazy bastard never works when he needs it. It was because of whoever was kicking him. That little man had become an angry red giant. He walked over to his washroom, every step was another kick.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
He got to the bathroom, when he stopped walking he finally realized that there was another little man twisting his guts. He managed to get to the sink, to see his face, with a greenish tone to it. with his red puffy reptile eyes. His nose was dry, but the rest of him was covered in a slimy, sweaty glaze.
He puked.
Vomit flew like colourful rockets. For twenty minutes, chunks of red, blue, yellow, violet came out amongst a thick green-yellow-brown slime. It smelt disgusting good.
"Like fish assholes," he giggled.
Finally, he tried to wash his hands, struggling to get the poop out from underneath his fingernails. He brushes his teeth trying to get rid of that ever-present stench of fish assholes.
He pukes again. It's back.
Frank goes back to his bedroom, and he sees one of the fattest, ugliest She-rex's he's ever seen.
"Holy Raptor Jesus!" He shouts.
Frank's horrible excitement wakes her, she starts, “Hey you were really go-”
“Shut up! Shut up! I don't care who you are or what you've done. Just get the hell out of my quarters!” Frank interrupted. The She-zilla grabbed his blanket wrapped it around her body and got out of that place as fast as her thunder thighs could take her.
“Jod damn it. That's the third set of sheets I've lost this week.” Frank mulled over his party too hard lifestyle that he'd been leading as of late. It sure wasn't getting him any satisfaction. A clock caught his eye.
10:43.
“Cocks!” he proclaimed profanely, “ I should've been flying this thing forty minutes ago. I'm surprised we're still even alive.” He grabbed one of the many shirts, pants, and some of the socks on the floor, hoping something in his room was still clean. He grabbed his shoes as he ran out of his room, into the hallway, for the elevator.
-----------
Bill and Maudie, a respected T-Rex couple were walking down one of the many halls of the S.S. Delores one fateful Sunday morning when they saw the captain of their fine ship running around looking exceptionally gross and naked.
"Oh dear!" Maudie yelped, "I wonder whatever could be the matter with him?"
"I don't know," Bill honestly answered, "but I don't know how well I still trust the management of this place. I mean did you catch a whiff of the captain when he came on running by? He kinda reeked of puke, and rum, and..." he paused to think for a second letting that lingering smell wash over his palette. It was familiar, almost too familiar.
"Fish assholes!" Maudie yelled out, louder then she meant to. The Johnsons happened to be walking by at this moment, too late to experience the horrible by-product of a dinosaur who for one night had too much fun. They turned around, they looked, and they judged.
----------
Frank finally got all dressed and got to the bridge of the ship, He knew he looked like shit, and that shit was what he was gonna get from his supervisor.
“What's that smell?” the supervisor's nose picked up fish assholes from a mile away. He turned around to investigate, and saw Frank. Relieved and disappointed, he shouted out, “Geeeeeeezus Raptor Christ on a cross! You're an hour late! You should be fired! You should be court-martialed! You should be launched into the sun!”
“Yes sir, sorry sir,” was the only reply Frank could think to mutter back. He knew he was in deep shit, between this and his hangover his life was hell.
“And why the hell do you look and smell like, shit and fish? Why the hell are you still standing around, get to your post before I tear you a fishy new one!” The onslaught continued, but Frank tuned it out.
He walked over to his little control panel, trying his best to go in a straight line.
“Hey what's the matter?” Thumper the supervisor said, “you look like you've got a stick up your ass. You gotta use the bathroom or somethin?”
“No sir, I ate some bad Deinonychous food last night. My stomach's just been off the rocker since.” Frank had been thinking about a shoddy excuse since he left his apartment, and this is the rubbish he came up with. He knew he had a crappy excuse, and that in itself made him feel crappy.
“Come on, who do you think broke your 600th day anniversary when it got too wild last night. Me and Felicia had to carry you back to your room last night.” Thumper had spoken,
Oh god, the dam of ignorance burst open, memories flooding in, drowning Frank in a sea of regrets. He remembered the unspeakable acts that were committed last night, the demonic lust, the insatiable appetites, even Lovecraft couldn't think of horrors so unspeakable.
“Look I know you might feel like shit, but it's your own damn fault. So get to work.”
Frank's face turned white, he started sweating profusely, he soaked through his shirt soon enough. He started choking up. “oh god, everyone remembered,” he thought. His anxious thoughts were magnified through the haze of his hangover. He felt very unsettled; a deep chasm was forming within him. He thought it was in his soul. A great surge of pressure spread up from his body and to his head.
He puked. He didn't know he still had it in him, the force of this projectile sent him flying back, a vomit rocket, which was about to take him to strange new places.
“Shit! Shit! What did you do!?” The supervisor started screaming.
Frank looked up at the control panel, and also started shouting -everyone was much too loud those days-, “Shit, shiiit! What the hell did I do?”
The control panel looked like it was melting under Frank's The ship barrel rolled though spaced, flying almost at light speed for a tiny blue planet trillions of kilometers away.
Now some scientists say that in space, you can't hear a thing. But that's a load of crap. In fact, thousands of civilizations with their massive radio antennas pointed towards the stars picked up some sort of sound in they sky that night. Some of them picked up a long, continues “ih” noise, others caught a “sh” many of them heard something that sounded like “it”. No one knew what it meant, but it sounded horrible. Bad news was headed someone's way.
The dinosaurs managed to slow down the ship a hell of a lot before they crashed into a large, gray building somewhere on a planet called Earth. Most of the dinosaurs died. There were few people injured, the ones that survived made it out strong. Everyone was way too angry though.
“Damn it Frank! This was your damn fault wasn't it?” piped Jill, who was one of the unlucky injured ones. She was missing an arm, and she looked bloody angry.
“Alright listen. Whoever's willing and able needs to try and gather supplies and anything salvageable from the ship, I'm gonna go out to find where we're at, and what kinds of creatures built this building.” Frank said, seeming calm and controlled, the adrenaline overtook his hangover for now. And he left, leaving a cacophony of angry voices behind him. Naturally nobody did what they were told to do.
Frank, walked around for a bit, found a little map of the city, and walked until he met up with a mysterious life form. It was Bill, one of Hollywood's most prestigious junkies. Bill was leaning against a bunch of doors. It looked like he just ripped them off some squats, Pieces of door frames were still attached to some of them.
"Hey man, you got five bucks?" Bill mumbled to Frank, "You wanna buy my doors?"
He persisted, "Buy my doors! Come on man! I've gotta get some glue! I'm sick of huffing fermented shit to get high! Fuck! Just Buy these doors!" Frank was getting pissed off, this guy smelt worse than those fish assholes that keep stalking him.
His headache was back, the smell was bringing tears to his eyes. This planet must be hell. A river of tears started to flow from Frank's eyes. He realized he might be stuck on his hellhole forever.
In a rage, he almost bit off the junkies head. When he got too close though, the smell made him gag. He couldn't do it. He couldn't kill this highly adapted creature.
He ran away and started on his murderous rampage, feeding on anything that looked edible, killing anything else that moved. The people walking on the parallel street were really impressed by what they were seeing. "Are they finally shooting Jurassic Park 5?" A man could be heard asking, "Well I'm glad they're not using CG."
Yes they were actually shooting Jurassic Park 5, but it was in a shady Korean studio, where hundreds of people had come to work on the all new totally 3D Jurassic Park 5 movie.
None of this really mattered anyway, because hundreds of people had just been killed, and nobody had even tried to stop it, at least Frank and his friends weren't gonna be hungry for the next few days. He grabbed a few bodies and headed back into the mountains. Back to that abandoned movie studio he now called home.
"Who let her in here?" Frank demanded when he noticed Donna. Donna was one of Hollywood's most glorious prostitutes. Donna was standing beside the wreck of the space shit, shrieking “ Haey you!” for a little while, but the dinosaurs were ignoring her now.
“This thing keeps telling she loves here,” said the man who was once supervisor Thumper
Donna stood there beside the space ship, too scared to move, to do anything but shriek, so she shrieked a little louder, “ What do you think you're doing here! Who do you think is gonna pay for this hole! Where's my baby!?”
“I swear to Jod, Thumper if she's not eaten in the next 5 seconds I'm gonna rip you apart.”
The hooker jumped, she quickly looked around, ran to a drawer behind her, and took out a rock nestled lightly in a compartment.
"Here. I'll give you this. Just for fuck sakes let me live. I'll even suck your fucking dino-cocks" she offered her lucky rock, and her skills with dino-cock.
“ In the thirty years that I've had this rock, I've never been mauled by a tiger.” She explained.
“We the people of Pangaea accept your offer!.” Frank said almost immediately. He didn't know what a tiger was, but he wanted to be safe just in case.
Thumper objected, he looked pissed, “What are you doing man? We could just kill her and take the rock.”
“Drat! Blast!” Frank yelled out. Nobody expected that. Frank looked pissed too, “well we've already agreed to this stupid deal, and we dinosaurs are a proud people.” Most of the dinosaur collective looked impressed.
“Shit, we've just gotta get home. Don't tell me none of you nitwits have thought up a plan yet?” Frank asked, trying to be polite. He didn't keep up for long though, 'cause none of the nitwits thought up a plan.
The hooker hear a crying from another shelf in her drawer, she opened it up and grabbed her baby. “Where you guys trying to get to anyway?” She asked.
“Back to our home planet ideally, but anywhere in space is fine. We just need to get off this planet so we can send a message back to our homeworld.” Frank said.
“Wait, what? You guys aren't from here? This wreck over here's a spaceship? Fuck off, you're taking this movie shit too seriously.” That baby is gonna grow up with such a potty mouth, I can see it now.
The T-Rex collective all laughed, tried to play off the conversation as a joke.
"What the fuck are you guys going on about. Come on, we've gotta think of a plan to get off this damn planet.” Frank reiterated. They sat. They thought.
Eventually the hooker spoke up, "So you guys from Mexico or somethin'?"
Frank had no idea what she was talking about, he played along to sound smart, "Yeah, we're aliens from Mexico, just don't tell anyone you've seen us. All we want to do is get back home.”
"Well, you're probably gonna need some money, so you're probably gonna need a job. Unless you plan on living tha thug life." Donna said. She was really damn smart, maybe smarter than Frank.
"Thug life?" Frank inquired.
"Ya, you know, dealin, robbin' stealin'. shit like that.”
"This thug life sounds all too interesting.”
"Ya, my pimp tony could hook you up with some odd jobs.”
The rest of the dinosaurs were sitting around watching tv. Filling their minds with garbage and noise. They were watching one of those crappy late night area 51 conspiracy shows, you know the ones that are too ridiculous to turn off, and they make you a little bit crazier every time you watch them.
"HA, secret technology?” Phillip laughed, “people have been sending out pamphlets for building your own planet destroyer for years. these guys are practicaly prehistoric.”
"Yeah, but they've got space ships. Shitty ones, but they'll take us off this Jod foresaken rock,” Fred chimed in.
"We should buy one!” Yelled Frank, and then he asked Donna, the ho, ”Where can we buy a spacecraft?”
"Shit, i can send you to space and stuff for $5 a hit. This is good shit too, not like that crystal piss Chico tries to sell.”
This sounded like a deal to Frank.
The dinosaurs didn't know what they were into. They found some wallets on the mauled bodies and exchanged some little green slips of papers for some even tinier shreds of paper.
FUCK.
They tripped the light fantastic.
Twelve hours later the dinosaurs were a changed people. They realized they could not go on mauling and killing forever, they'd need a change of lifestyle sooner or later,well at least Most of them did anyway.
Frank went crazy, and that bloody smell was now so well imprinted into his memory that it would never go away.
Oh well, most of the other dinosaurs seemed okay. They'd bonded pretty well with that hooker, too well.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere their ship exploded, vaporizing the entire area, leaving only the ship's blackbox behind, filled with diaries and logs. What did you expect? They just crashed the thing and never gave it a second look. The coolant had been leaking for more than a day now. The antimatter just broke out and exploded eventually. Hell I'm surprised they were alive this long. Luckily I found this blackbox before anybody else, but none of the evens from this story ever were reported in the news. No massive slaughter of people in Hollywood be a T-Rex, no explosion in the mountains around L.A. NOTHING. See how YOUR OWN GOVERNMENT tries to cover things like this up?
Anyway, this is why dinosaurs will never be cloned from extinction. Sure, there are plenty of 'good' dinosaurs, but it's impossible to ignore all the horrible crimes that dinosaurs have committed. Historians and scientists everywhere have generally concluded that they're dumb, irresponsible, gluttonous jerks.|
Tuesday, 18 November 2008 at 23:40
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
what if we are imprinting the organizational system of computers into our brains
that's why we are getting smarter and smarter generation after generation, the thought
thought structures we are internalizing are evolving as ideas turning to reality through
our brain. our brain itself is a direct manifestation of ideas, as what we learn affects its
chemical shape and organization.
even our genes, what we think is sexy changes too.
what we want our babies to look like, to be.
what are you gonna do about it, just sit there and think about what i just told you?
think about it being a pile of pseudo intellectuale garbage, categorize it, embed it.
why would you ever want to limit how far you'd want to think about anything,
because our brain can only get so complicated before it can't
i dont get it. why the fuck is are bad thoughts gross and all stupid anyway. what did your chemistry develop into.
what will happen to us, universe, as you age more. how complex can you get.
why is this the exception and not the norm. (is it? it's what we're predicting now, as far as i'm aware) does the universe get more complicated until all the organization/knowledge in the universe reaches a critical velocity and gets out of it's interdimensional shell.
is the universe an electron about to jump from S to P, or D to F.
i am so stoned.
are we there yet? where are the nachos?
even if i don't edit it now i will later, when i'm older than i am today.
that's why we are getting smarter and smarter generation after generation, the thought
thought structures we are internalizing are evolving as ideas turning to reality through
our brain. our brain itself is a direct manifestation of ideas, as what we learn affects its
chemical shape and organization.
even our genes, what we think is sexy changes too.
what we want our babies to look like, to be.
what are you gonna do about it, just sit there and think about what i just told you?
think about it being a pile of pseudo intellectuale garbage, categorize it, embed it.
why would you ever want to limit how far you'd want to think about anything,
because our brain can only get so complicated before it can't
i dont get it. why the fuck is are bad thoughts gross and all stupid anyway. what did your chemistry develop into.
what will happen to us, universe, as you age more. how complex can you get.
why is this the exception and not the norm. (is it? it's what we're predicting now, as far as i'm aware) does the universe get more complicated until all the organization/knowledge in the universe reaches a critical velocity and gets out of it's interdimensional shell.
is the universe an electron about to jump from S to P, or D to F.
i am so stoned.
are we there yet? where are the nachos?
even if i don't edit it now i will later, when i'm older than i am today.
Oak Tree in Winter at Lacock Abbey
William Henry Fox Talbot, Bro-togropher
Friday, January 29, 2010
I can't sleep at night
Man is almost ready to start creating his own elements out of Hydrogen. We will be able to make Helium soon, because there are intensely curious people out there. A bunch of them are in a building in Europe right now, and what they think they can do is create tiny stars, right here, on the surface of the Earth. Somewhere else in Europe in a giant tunnel underground, there are other curious people who are trying to recreate the Big Bang, while looking for something tinier than an electron. This program was funded by what in America would be condemned as 'socialism', or too expensive to be made by the Government. Monsanto creates their very own brands of life, and owns the copyright to the genetic codes of a lot of the food we eat. One day we will eat viruses or something like them that will 'cure' us of genetic illnesses, even cancer.
People are on their way to understand how Proteins are created. You can help them by whoring out your computer's unused resources here: http://folding.stanford.edu/ We will one day recreate our own type of 'life' that does not rely on DNA, and is fundamentally different from anything in this World. We are almost at a point that we could change our bodies.
You can talk to anybody in the world, at any time, on a cellphone. People can live in the imaginary 'internet' we've made, where the world's thoughts mingle like a giant brain.
Within the next couple of decades we're going to make machines that are smarter than us. So some of your kids, grandkids or maybe if you're lucky enough then even YOU won't be 'human' any more.
Homo Sapiens are going to go extinct after we evolve.
Please people, enjoy your infancy, play with each other.
People are on their way to understand how Proteins are created. You can help them by whoring out your computer's unused resources here: http://folding.stanford.edu/ We will one day recreate our own type of 'life' that does not rely on DNA, and is fundamentally different from anything in this World. We are almost at a point that we could change our bodies.
You can talk to anybody in the world, at any time, on a cellphone. People can live in the imaginary 'internet' we've made, where the world's thoughts mingle like a giant brain.
Within the next couple of decades we're going to make machines that are smarter than us. So some of your kids, grandkids or maybe if you're lucky enough then even YOU won't be 'human' any more.
Homo Sapiens are going to go extinct after we evolve.
Please people, enjoy your infancy, play with each other.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
what the fuck
(hold on i'll edit this, once I sleep)
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Well then, let's get started.
Welcome, Jakub, and the handful of readers who are ever going to read this. I brought you here to listen. I guess I'll start by telling you I made this blog to try and re-arrange my online internet presence. Basically by taking myself mostly off Facebook and spreading everywhere else. I want to do significantly more blogging than hyper-blogging. It's not as simple of a medium, but much more lucid. Unfit for an age where attention spans spans are sinking down the quick-sand of lost human talent.
Mostly I feel like the whole idea of Facebook is creeping me out. It's like (as I wrote on Facebook): "corporations own the rights to my friends. I can't believe how many people need computers to do the most natural and simple of human tasks, literal 'social networking' addicts. You are turning into a machine one post at a time. Long after you're dead facebook will still be making money off the virtual soul you handed to them, kept warm-buzzing on their servers," and "i am just as guilty as the rest. even if it's not truly evil it's just totally fucking weird." The fact that Facebook is becoming the main medium for communicating so many things in the modern age is so scary. Imagine if canvasses were all owned by one company and you could paint on them, but the company has the right to your canvas, and what's on that canvas, but it'll display it for you, make money off you, so on. It's like you're whoring your mind out for convenience, sort of being conned into it. At least I feel as if Google is a less evil company, even if they are trying to amalgamate all of your information in the exact same way, at least they'll offer to pay me for it. It's much simpler as well to take Myself down and pick up everything I've made here and put it somewhere else. Which I hopefully will do eventually.
I need to write. I need to get better at it. To stop sounding like a pretentious asshole and just like a real asshole (pbfffffffffffbfffffffft...splunk). I want this to turn into a sampler of all my ideas, images, writing, totally unrestricted, total pornography. I want to test new ground, I want people to see how I'll test the ice of anonymity and online identity, I want to flood the world with the spunk of my soul, trap people in it's foul stickiness, impregnate their minds with my dirt and never pay child support. Even if it takes years, even if it's just a couple of you. I want you all to feel me inside of you, the parts of me that matter most wriggling around bringing you ecstasy, deep emotional trauma, indifference. Nous.
Mostly I feel like the whole idea of Facebook is creeping me out. It's like (as I wrote on Facebook): "corporations own the rights to my friends. I can't believe how many people need computers to do the most natural and simple of human tasks, literal 'social networking' addicts. You are turning into a machine one post at a time. Long after you're dead facebook will still be making money off the virtual soul you handed to them, kept warm-buzzing on their servers," and "i am just as guilty as the rest. even if it's not truly evil it's just totally fucking weird." The fact that Facebook is becoming the main medium for communicating so many things in the modern age is so scary. Imagine if canvasses were all owned by one company and you could paint on them, but the company has the right to your canvas, and what's on that canvas, but it'll display it for you, make money off you, so on. It's like you're whoring your mind out for convenience, sort of being conned into it. At least I feel as if Google is a less evil company, even if they are trying to amalgamate all of your information in the exact same way, at least they'll offer to pay me for it. It's much simpler as well to take Myself down and pick up everything I've made here and put it somewhere else. Which I hopefully will do eventually.
I need to write. I need to get better at it. To stop sounding like a pretentious asshole and just like a real asshole (pbfffffffffffbfffffffft...splunk). I want this to turn into a sampler of all my ideas, images, writing, totally unrestricted, total pornography. I want to test new ground, I want people to see how I'll test the ice of anonymity and online identity, I want to flood the world with the spunk of my soul, trap people in it's foul stickiness, impregnate their minds with my dirt and never pay child support. Even if it takes years, even if it's just a couple of you. I want you all to feel me inside of you, the parts of me that matter most wriggling around bringing you ecstasy, deep emotional trauma, indifference. Nous.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
blah blah blah
i was just some dumb kid until i started sniffing glue.
here are my old blogs, and now i'm continuing part 3 of the story.
http://jjpuff.livejournal.com/
http://push_n_play.livejournal.com/
here are my old blogs, and now i'm continuing part 3 of the story.
http://jjpuff.livejournal.com/
http://push_n_play.livejournal.com/
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