Saturday, February 26, 2011

Stanley's Dream


I am a champian of making other's feel guilty ~ it's my best trait.

Shut up sleuter...

The best weapons, are designed with an eye to fashion as well as function, i.e., "That bow looks like a dress."

Keep in mind, that we are talking about weapons.

I have no mind to reason with pedantics; I can only join the rodeo when it comes to town.

The timing between one thing and another, is such, that only you can find the refrences.

I just got that ~ a while ago...

What do you want?

"What is that song?"

"Nothing, that was just my text message sound."

Super Troopers ~ not to be confused with Abba.

"1980's synth bought from a yard sale last year,"

is not a full sentence.

can't end with that...

Think

THINK!

"Wake up Stanley."


Monday, February 21, 2011

Killing a milkjug


I just killed a milk jug.

It didn't do anything to me.

I just wanted it dead.  So I killed it.

I just killed a milk jug.

I filled it with water, so I could drink it.

I just killed a milk jug.

I liked it when I used to put it in my fridge, because it would be cold.

I just killed a milk jug.

I would drink it when I was drunk.

I just killed a milk jug.

It was nice, but then I put it in my freezer, and it became ice, and I loved it, but it was too awesome, and I had to destroy it, and nobody could stop the butt of my knife from smashing into its plastic hide.  Over and over again I proceeded to batter the milk jug, with its ice inards, until it conceeded, and had to forfeit its life to me...

I just killed a milk jug.

I can hear its ice inards melting in my sink now.  I have no remorse..  I would do it again...  that milk jug had it comin, I tell yah.  I don't fuck around,

I'm very sad now...

Because,

I don't have a milk jug for my water now *[ ..

Unfortunate, but nevertheless, perfect...

Because now,

I will travel for my water,

Or...

Design my will to accept the water that is given to me - unabashedly...

What is it that you understand?

In what I just said?

Nothing?

Or...

Something...?

"Huh..."  is all I can say really, but I have a fast way of working things out - if you think that's appropriate for the sitch~u~way~shion...

No doubt.. You have no idea, but you are lost without proper direction > in most cases anyway = fuck all and never > less than \ besides the point + bottom line :-)

Hmm... ;{ strange it is how comunicate we do :/  but seems to be that we have found a new :-?    way to find ourselves in outer space ...~ # [     ]   {      }    &   why would we not find us out of place ... & $ ### * , but how could we not keep our pace ... {   }  but I can't face this waste ... ... ... and you find in distaste, the matter of the cast, that I have found at last, debattered and debast. I feel I could out last, any who could pass, my bitter fall to grass.  Nothing...

There is more...

But no more here...

Nothing left, but my bitter beer.

That I love so much, but I can't attend ~ the bitter end, to my favorite friend...

I love you much, and will miss you so.

I hope you know, because you know I know...

And when we find eachother I will see.

The way you look at the way I'm me.

And I wish I was, a little better at, making things real nice, as oposed to fucked and fat.

But I can't believe, everything I hear... and when it comes to you I don't know what I feel.

Crazy...  but I know you love me, and if you didn't then I would be dead already... PEACE... hahahahahahah...

No.

Seriously...

If you are reading this...

Then I own you [mwhahahahahaha].

You are my property.

I will destroy you ~ if necessary... (got to go)

Stuff i think sometimes


I think that the armageddon is going to be when aliens come to earth and bang us ~ I mean, they haven't called or written anything to us for quite a while and I think that they should make good on their bond to make our love public and celebrated by all.  Although, the only problem with that is that they only know us by what they see on reality tv and the internet, and because of this they are already predisposed to eratic-erotic behavior, which basically means that they think that we...

Hmmm...

I think that beer is really good once you get used to it, because you don't puke as much...

I think that...

Things that are much better being in the past than the present... (time warp)


I was just reading through my texts and I realized that I'm the bs friend, and that its my fault you don't want to talk to me, and not yours.  I feel like I'm being friendly at the time, but everything I say to you is a loaded statement ~ one that I wouldn't want to deal with either ~ prob why the majority of our convos are one way ~ I have to tell you this because I'm douchy like that, and all sensitive and shit, and because I care about what's left of our fucked up friendship (the friendship that I feel I fucked up).

Its just that... We were so cool, and now we're not... ~ kind of awkward and mean to each other as opposed to awesome with love for each other, and that makes me sad....

The biggest problem is that I don't know how to fix it, and the more I try, the more it's fucked. 

So I figure that I gotta put the whole thing on ice until I stop being affected by shit, and be honest to you about that being the case. 

So... if I'm cold to you, or ignor you, or am just generally weird... it's not because I hate you, ~ more likely it's that I don't know what else to do about you ~ plus ~ I can't handle it when you don't respond to me, so the only solution that puts me in control of myself is to not talk in the first place [btw ~ I'm pretty sure that i'll go a little crazy when you don't respond to this, but these are things that will make me crazy if I don't say them, so it's kind of a catch22].  It seems kind of stupid but I really don't know how else to handle things, so a no contact policy seems to be the only reasonable answer.

At least for now... until I can wrap my head around this shit...

I was just reading through my texts and I realized that I'm the bs friend, and that its my fault you don't want to talk to me, and not yours.  I feel like I'm being friendly at the time, but everything I say to you is a loaded statement ~ one that I wouldn't want to deal with either ~ prob why the majority of our convos are one way ~ I have to tell you this because I'm douchy like that, and all sensitive and shit, and because I care about what's left of our fucked up friendship (the friendship that I feel I fucked up).

Its just that... We were so cool, and now we're not... ~ kind of awkward and mean to each other as opposed to awesome with love for each other, and that makes me sad....

The biggest problem is that I don't know how to fix it, and the more I try, the more it's fucked. 

So I figure that I gotta put the whole thing on ice until I stop being affected by shit, and be honest to you about that being the case. 

So... if I'm cold to you, or ignor you, or am just generally weird... it's not because I hate you, ~ more likely it's that I don't know what else to do about you ~ plus ~ I can't handle it when you don't respond to me, so the only solution that puts me in control of myself is to not talk in the first place [btw ~ I'm pretty sure that i'll go a little crazy when you don't respond to this, but these are things that will make me crazy if I don't say them, so it's kind of a catch22].  It seems kind of stupid but I really don't know how else to handle things, so a no contact policy seems to be the only reasonable answer (meaning: you'll get less crazy texts).

At least for now... until I can wrap my head around this shit...

(At which point you will get even crazier texts, but in a good way as opposed to a weird and creepy way ~ peace:)


2 all the girls i've lov'd b4


Wow...

I can't believe I'm actually doing this.  What is it that I'm doing exactly, you may ask.  Well... I'm not really going to tell you right out, but hey, you knew that already didn't you?

The truth is that it doesn't really matter.  The whole thing is just a hoax, intended to get you all riled up and distracted from the main point (which is?).  Which happens to be a more important issue than whatever you're stuck on right now.

The truth is that I just don't care ~ well...  that's not exactly true now is it.  What I mean to say is that I am impervious to caring.  My tough outer shell precludes me from having any strong emotions, minus a strong affinity towards conjecture and blatent libel, I am a rock of pure and unadulterated cold fire, that can't be broken, save for the most magnanimous series of tools and manipulation (huh?).

What say you, pond of still water?  Would you like to face the wrath of my rabbit fist?  ~ No???  Well... then I will find another to thwart thee in the game of life, because I'm a true playa (at least when all my pieces are on the game board).  I will use my powers for evil or good as my whim suits itself, and you, you better be wary of my vestigal ego, because its tail flicks violently in your direction. 

On many occasions I have tasted the blood of my enemies, and to say that you are worthy of my blood lust is quite foward indeed, but pure conjecture, at least as far as I am concerned in this particular circumstance.

Funny, but I don't quite get you my dear.  You are elusive and wild, and I have no time to tame.  You may yet get away, and for you to do so, would be a great success on your part, knowing full well that my tracking skills are second to none, you may get away, but only if I let you scamper off into the wilderness.

This is turning out to be a pretty elaborate conceit, and although I am adept at word play, I may fail at bringing this one to a head.

I have heard from you reader, in forms that you may or may not be aware of, and what I have heard is good ~ for the most part.  It seems that you enjoy these somwhat roundabout jaunts through my psyche, even though you only sometimes know what I am talking about.  Forget it for now, because you have yet to see the finished work - a masterpiece in progress ~ a meandering of meaning, continueously underscored with nonsensical musings.

Feminism is...


Somebody trying fuck the dick agressively.

Rules (more later)


1. You can't go from first contact to second contact w/o a little contact inbetween.

2. Apply the appropriate amount of pressure at the right time and you can get anything accomplished.

"Nothing is"


Nothing is what nothing does.

Nothing is just because.

Nothing wants what nothing gets.

Nothing does and just forgets.

Nothing wise is nothing done.

Nothing's eyes are only one.

Nothing feels and nothing wants.

Nothing gets and nothing flaunts.

Nothing's heels have got too high.

Nothing's wells (they) have run dry.

Nothing has what no - thing wants.

And nothing's moves are so cart blanche. [Blank check baby]

Mmmmmmmm...    

Mm, I got some - thing on ya babe.  [Da da {4x}]

You look at me like you got it made.

I look at you and I feel a pang oh pain.

But I look at you and I gotta look a-gain.

I know I can't explain

Why I feel this sort of shame.

But I pick up the pace

And I won't be late again

The trick won't be traced

And the case will be closed to pen.

A day of err/and


Just went to the supermarket, and now at the laundrymat.

Guy didn't let me buy a cigarette for a buck, and I told him off.  He said he only has a few left, and I'm like, "Dude! What the Fuck?" And he's like, "Yeah whatever man." And I'm like, Fuck you dude, you're an asshole." And he's like, "Why don't you bum a few more bucks and you can buy a pack." And I'm like, "I'm not a bum.  I just want one."  And he's like, "Oh you don't smoke a lot?"  And I'm like, "Yeah, I just like to buy one at a time from private venders."  And then I left, and he didn't sell me one.

Now he came back inside and I've been writing this thing, and we haven't said one word to eachother.  He's pretending to watch sports on tv, but he's totaly aware of my rufusal to acknowledge his presence. 

Yeah, his phone just rang, and he's pretending to have friends, but he knows that they're really not that cool.

*Commercial Break*

theories of attraction


Opposites attract for three distinct reasons:

1.  If you find yourself attracted to one like yourself you are either...

     a.) Being somewhat incestous or...

     b.) Confused about who you are because of something.     

2.  You either love yourself or don't love yourself and if you are the later and attracted to ones like yourself then you will always be wanting, but if you are the former you will always be wanting more...

3.  They are the unknown wild card that you cannot predict, and because of this they have glamoured you w/o you having the slightest ability to thawart them and they feel a compatible feeling of comfortable wildness from you that enamours them with you in a similar way.

The culmination of this is the understanding of chaos and its finer points ~ especially in terms of intrapersonal (personal) relationships - as far as they refer to romanticism and sexualization ~ the double sided coin at its best.

The separation of church and hate


It seems to me that a lot of people harbor a little animosity towards God.  I don't really get into this myself, because God (whoever/whatever [if in existence]) is God, and because of this, is invested in everyone's "eternal soul".  In fact, God would have God fingers into pretty much just about everything, so the real question that most people get stuck on shouldn't be, "Why me?"  But much more simply just, "Why? (In general terms that is)".

For me, the question of "Why?" comes down to a choice, as in, "Why would I?" Or, "Why should I?" And I think that these questions run about in other's minds as well.  I'm not too positive as to the answers to any of these questions, but I think it's important for us to ask those questions to ourselves - from time to time...

The concern over "why?" is as old as they come.  It's cliché really.  I shouldn't even be writing about it, but unfortunately for you, I am a bastard, and will throw some metaphysical shit down your throat every now and then (even if it is a little dry sometimes).

You see, the real issue here is that the conversational conundrum of whether or not "God" exists, is simply a matter of choice on the part of the believer.  I say this with a small amount of flipancy, however, I got to say that "we" are a part of the equation, when talking about the possible existance of something greater than ourselves (at least).


Saturday, February 12, 2011

life v thought

life’s purpose is to not die
life’s purpose is to let other’s live - ( to the best of it’s ability :)
life grows best around other life
life grows in towards itself to make it stronger
life begets more life
life conforms to the physical world
life transforms the physical as needed
life does this primarily without thought

vs

thoughts’ purpose is to live
thoughts’ purpose is to dream
thoughts grow rich with different thinking
thoughts become complex with more revolutions
thoughts beget more thought
thought exists within the physical world
thought creates the physical world
thought primarily does this because of life

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Heart of Darkness (part III)


You have managed to concoct a possible reality as to why you, not only have no memory of your life, but also as to why the prior you might have aquired the room that the present you, now exists in.

It was just a matter of simple logic, really.  When you were cleaning the place up from today's earlier festivities, you got a good idea about your motives for having this particular spot, when you stumbled upon an open and mostly empty bottle of sleeping pills on the floor of the bathroom.

The first time you saw it, was during the crescendo of Mr. Puke's performance - Open-pill Bottle was literaly moved and almost had to leave the theatre because of her personal connection to the subject matter, and had you known she was who she was at the time, you would have probably felt obligated to thank her for her generous donation, without which, you were quite solid on the fact, that the entire benefit would have been canceled, due to a sudden onset of  performance anxiety from a certain Mr. Puke, who never seems like a diva at first, but turns out to be quite picky about his particulars on certain extra special occasions such as this one.

In any event, once you had made it to that section of the floor, and found Miss Bottle; you took the time to properly clean her up, and discovered in doing so (by examining the details of her soaking wet bodice), that the multitude of her progeny were solely dedicated to providing a healthy alternative to: operating heavy machinery, and internet porn.  Strange sort of bunch really, but no one's really the wiser, especially since they also seem to wipe memories when people are trying to kill themselves, at least this is what you've figured out thus far.

You have to admit to yourself that, in hindsight, the memory loss bit, is a bit strange by itself.  So during a motivated second inspection of your surroundings, you determine that your lack of personally known history could also have been a product of a collaboration between Miss Bottle's babies, and the prior inhabitants of the multitude of empty liquor bottles, fast food trash, and beer cans littered around the room, which consequently could also account for the illustrious duo's surprise performance this morning, if you were to conceed that the prior tenents of all the housings mentioned above, squatted the night at One Abdomen Square only to be kicked out en masse the next morning. 

You laugh to yourself as you consider that your body became a temple to so many vagrants, and wonder if your present state is the result of some sort of cosmic cleansing ritual, and maybe that is why you can't remember.

However...

It doesn't matter really, because in all supposed realities it always comes back to the same thing.  You came to this place to kill yourself.  It's a solid assumption, based on simple logic.  Then you laugh again - this time out loud.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Heart of Darkness (cont...)


You wake up in a fevered panic, from a dream you can’t quite remember, and quickly look around the room to try and get some clues to help you determine your possible whereabouts, and hope that, upon receiving this knowledge, it might lend some assistance to your mental faculties, so that the you that is in fact You, might succeed in an attempt to possibly ascertain who you are, and why you’re here in this particular Here, as you have seem to have forgotten...

***

He thought the dream was real, more real than than the real world was right now anyway. He was unsure, and unsteady in the ways in which he was dealing with the “real” world, and this forced him, for a second, to reconsider what reality was to him until he could find a better reason (or way) to argue with it.

“It don’t matter,” he said with an emphasis on the improper grammar. His world was destroyed. He had no concept of the here and now. He just wanted to tell somebody that something wasn't there, but he didn’t know who that somebody was, nor what the something was, and just as he started to dwell on this, he became suddenly enraptured by the detail of the room, the detail of his thoughts, and his ability to reason with ease and complexity. It was at this point that he realized that this was indeed, the real world, and nothing was going to change that anytime soon.

A moment of silence had passed during this time, and in thinking about this he began to feel a subtle bewilderment from his speech the moment before. Mostly this reaction was due to a cursory focus on his voice’s trepidation and also what he had deemed to be:
1. An unnatural relationship. Not only to the silence preexisting the exclamation, but also to the newly fallen and increasingly compressed silence falling after it.

To this he added:

2. The subjective acoustic intensity (measured by me) between now, then, and the then before then, varies so greatly that I am about to have a visible and physical reaction to the realization of this and also point 1.

He jumped. Not high or far, but with every aspect of his physical being, he jumped. He then looked around the room to see if anybody saw him jump, and in finding it clear of any equal consciousnesses, heroically stormed off into the bathroom of ill-discrepancy, whereby he proceeded to produce a special benefit concert for retarded intellectuals, featuring the rarely seen duo: Massive Shit and Two-hands-clutched-on-the-shower-curtain Puke. It was quite unexpected actually, and he certainly had no idea. He hadn’t even gone to any of the rehearsals, and now that his great moment was finally upon him he felt extremely sick at how he didn’t deserve the honor.

***

A few hours later, after you clean the bathroom and yourself up, you begin to remember parts of a dream you had the night before. Not any plot, or any other real substance, but almost a feeling of a feeling, or a thought of a thought. You hope you will have the dream again, but you are not really sure of when that will happen, if at all. So in the meantime, you have things to arrange and figure out for yourself and your survival, because you don’t know who you are, where you are, or why you’re so fucked up right now, so get it together, or you’re going to die, because that’s what happens in the real world.