she makes me sad
when i steal a look at old photographs from back before
she makes me sad
when i hear her voice but makes me wish to see her face just once more
before i die in this moment and i could die in any moment
but not just for any one
not every smile can make me smile
not everyone can
right now i'd rather be doing anything if it either involved her or it didn't ever again
eyes penetrating don't cross out calendar years fast enough
i love the way she disappeared every time i came near or it became clear that her fear would appear if she stayed here cause she can't live her entire life behind the picket fences her parents hid her behind
because people die
because people die
and it reminds
that all we have is life
my life my love the one she's not thinking of tonite so goodnite and goodbye
i once wanted to get a tatoo but she had already left a mark that when i've grown old i know i will wish i hadn't gotten for what should be forgotten my foolish youth will be the closest i got.
early today
i'm only as good as the lies you believe cause when you dream to achieve the only thing you succeed is an appetite that ignites your life to hold tight to any ride out of the hell you crawl back to. wake up and you won't see me but the manufactored feelings a fabrication of anticipation mixed with your medication your hesitation to take vacation leaves lines of stress a cheaper whore would inhale. oh when will it come you keep praying but with eyes open you're soul faking your superstition a contridiction against your authority against participation your philosophy of open apology to society for the life of he who stands for so much but as such could not possibly be. to wait is too late for the weight overwhelms stone so alone you hate home because the dark arms of sleep during the week are all you can think about when you're out on weakened moments where replaceables names fade to grey you can't recall all the falls you fell for but more is better than less i guess cause even if you forget the worst will not be forgotten.
i think wierd al should do a spoof on "walk like an egyptian" but remake it "walk like a paraplegic"
rated e for everyone
dear multi-idiot,
please make sure not to drink yourself gay again tomorrow nite. i know it's a drinking holiday and that you will be decked out in your pseudo hetero hamburglar costume. but it is not essential to shit yourself sober tuesday morning while suffering through yet another pity hangover. take a break from your longterm suicide plan to make memories that you'll be able to recall.
also, make sure not to smash any pumpkins in the month of october.
love,
cock jones
it's not the size of the trout, it's the motion in the ocean
when i was little, i used to talk to god about all sorts of problems. like wetting myself or placing the neighborhood cat in a microwave to watch him beg before his brain melted. god was always a great listener but was a fucking bore when it came to conversation starters. lots of awkward silences.
it was years later that i realized this sexual tension between god and myself was the cause of these frequent silences. apparently, whenever i had called up the dude to talk, he felt it necessary to jerk off to the sound of my voice. the reason he never spoke was he was too busy keeping in the moans from growing louder with each pump.
so i said "FUCK YOU GOD I'M CASTING YOU OUT OF MY HEART." and that was that. satan is a pretty cool dude anyway. he's always coming up with cool ideas like genocide and pre-mature ejaculation.
the whole notion of believing that someone hears your words is absurd. if god existed, he would be able to hear your thoughts. and so the lies and shit you say when you sing "oh come all ye faithful" and other misc. bull is transparent by your hidious inner thoughts that constantly beckon to be tamed. you want timmy's girlfriend. you want a new malibu maxx. you want to rape that supermodel you see in your mom's victoria secret's catalog. you believe hitler was right.
kidsmoke
she's was way too into me from the first moment we met to not be a whore.
i'm immune to guilt except when i think.
did you come here to pick a fight? because if it's a beating you want, get in line behind your dad.
if everything happens for a reason, then why are people so caught up on God because there is no rhyme or reason surrounding religion.
the wedding today could be feast or famine.
you can only hurt the ones you love, not the ones you're thinking of.
is it sad that i'm less passionate about anti-bush and more passionate about anti-politics?
and music, don't even get me started.
i don't care about anything important except what's important to me.
might not go to ponderosa but should get some fishsticks and kfc. tonite we party like rock stars*.
*big john popper
monday's on monday
the smell of sex makes me flex my will to spill my hidden all too unfamilar desire to fill the girl with a world full of funk. she told me she wanted me with her subtle laugh where she was trying to hide the smirk but i know the desire to flirt was described in her try but she cannot defy her aura for me. she let's me know though trouble thoughts still doubt even though i ought to know that i'm money baby and i know it shit don't fucking think that it hasn't occured that the shit she says is from the pages of aged cosmo. though the flow of the conversation is inspiration to have aspirations believing is achieveing a misleading fleeting desire will fire off signals of what the fuck am i doing with my life. meanwhile smiles exchange and with the chain of events and comments of you're a great guy suprise me not because i'm not but because i know and she knows and although it's told based on my actions the reaction i am forced to give lives on my face of disgust because a girl more into me would be digging her heal into me and my leg cannot stop aching to rub against her. were she should she want me as much as i want her with current desire flowing through where the sun don't shine but define it for me what is love and when we describe of a heavenly above message we don't truely have a clue that my concept begins and ends with you. fine it might be to waste time and wait out the difficulties that shout out the doubt that you like me like i like like you and so fight it but you are the shit so quit with the bit of stupidity that makes jealousy seem like reason for ending what never started. but all this worrying really won't matter cause later i will take you out to monday's on monday cause we are cute like that and that is what is cute. and i'm not ashamed to say the way i'll behave will be as if i were a fucking girl.
i know who you fist fucked last summer
man, i don't think you quite understand how much i love duck. this is what he wrote me tonite:
"well, i have also been going after this dutch chinese girl recently. Im sorry if this may disappoint you, but being in this environment has enlightened me and i am now open to sideways vagina now, i suppose. anyways, this girl is really great, only problem is she has a boyfriend back home, so there could be a period of trauma (who is dutch). anyways, i think getting a job would help my case."
hahahahhahahahaha
i love how he references sideways vaginas. see, the myth is no myth. it's god damn true. and it's ok if that's his bag. but it's not mine. sorry chung-li.
seriously about the ponderosa
enough heroics for one day. take these drugs and save yourself.
i've moved on to bigger fisher and tighter vaginas.
i like fat girls because it's more cushion for the pushon and it guarantees that a crave case won't go to waste.
i sort of want to go to ponderosa when i come back this weekend...
temptation is driving me bonkers
i remember back in Oct. 1, 2005 when i moved to chicago and i instantly became a die-hard white sox fan (we true fans just call them the "w-sox" because we know, word).
yes ever since then my friend i have been all about them. i've waited so long for this moment.
i just ate two hotdogs in celebration!
we are the champions. fuck you cubs, unless you start winning and win the w.s. but you probably won't because w-sox are the best and my favorite tee-hee.
crede, come home baby so i can suck your kiss.
cammie, fuck you and your non-team.
andrea, blue jays should be tear-gassed.
johnny, mudhens aren't even a fucking major league team.
fuck you box.
keith, i hate florida state.
dief, my w-sox messed with texas and fucked your shit up. what are you going to do about it cowboy? mother fucking better not raise gas prices or we'll come back there and rape your half-mexican daughters.
goldbond, core 3 should donate more equipment to dance marathon (ann arbor) this next march in the name of the w-sox.
oh how i love chicago and hate wrigleyville. god save the queen.
go tigers! tonite the crabs will be rioting in my pants.
evenflow
walk on by head held high far away from this place from his face forming language you pretend to not understand. with outreached hands without a chance you don't give him the time of day you'd rather reserve to count the pennies kept safe in piggy banks that will never break nor ever get full. so you start filling another like you were collecting rain for a rainless day where buying relief might be the only thing better than tipping an extra five percent for smiling and filling water. a job but a job so that's better than a career where you're caught collecting bottle and cans from the bottom of trash cans. no respect and no rest the tireless bodies are not allowed to rest or else there will be nowhere for us to sit. looks of shame across nameless manes grown for the weather's better when you're not working to survive. against the wall you hunch you crawl your hopes they fall hosed down by people holding papers saying you can't sleep here so where do you go when no one shows you a quarter ounce of drugs you'd smoke it cause it's the only relief you'll have and who wants reality not you not me and we don't even have it as bad oh but we do too. tomorrow another one dies but no one cries no one cares as televisions blare and the mindless stare at a celebrity show staring princess diaz claiming words she reads off a script. we read her lips like they were wise but the lies of compassion meanwhile mansions filled with unimagine able are those who have so much to give so little but feel so good as if they were god's favorite bastard. i am no better but whether you are or are not there is truth in the things we do. we do little and they sense it in our strides as we walk on by no thanks sorry yes sorry but i don't care.
when the errection's gone, so is my desire be with you
i will sodomize you with my morals.
there was so much bullshit in the air today that i had to choke like snoop dogg.
sometimes it's so hot in my office that i'm sweating cancer out my pores.
i'm only going to say this once and then i'm going to say it again:
damn it i had more to say but my brain doesn't work anymore when you sleep 5-6 hours a nite less than you work. unless you're prasad. or some other whore.
drive gracefully
missy: "how are you?"
phil: "not good."
missy: "what's not good?"
phil: "i just got raped."
missy: "oh boo."
phil: "what? rape jokes are always funny."
i was just thinking of you while i was putting lipstick on.
sorry, you fucked with the wrong boyscout.
if you fuck with me, you'd better bring a body bag and a pile of wetnaps because i will shit all over your corpse.
sometimes when i'm brushing my teeth and i'm looking in the mirror, i think about you. i think this is what you would see if you woke up to spend the morning with me.
tomorrow, people will get fired for fucking with the jesus. seriously.
i came so hard your mom's wig fell off.
someone found my site on the second page of results after asking jeeves:
"are multple abortions bad?..."
and the answer is, ask your priest.
laser vision wins the honeys
wow potatos really are my favorite. i was just eating a meal of chicken fingers, mashed potatos , and corn. it was fucking awesome and now i'm fucking full.
i am so a chicken fingers guy as well.
kate asked me last nite if i like redheads. kate as in eliz's kate. as in the one that used to have an asian fetish until she met 3 duche bags that broke her heart. i met her too late.
i just asked my roommates if they thought the other people living in this building have been stealing my magazines (that i had forwarded to this new address). sidenote: all the mail gets put on our stairwell rather than our mailboxes. anyway, so my sports illustrated, newsweeks, time, sporting news, none of them have been coming.
and the thing is i don't even read any of those. i just look at the pictures. if the magazines were scratch and sniff, i'd also add that i smell the magazines.
i think they should make playboy's scratch and sniff. that would help prepare all sorts of adolescents with how stinky queefing vags can be.
goodbye gurls
where do you get the brave words to give me my just deserves telling me off like i was the bastard kid you never had because of $50 and sanitized rusty fingers. the difference between you and me is the indifference for you from me and it kills you to have to make believe that i ever cared. sorry that's how life goes. you choose to play along to to the song i wrote for someone else long ago, way before it ever occured to me to take you home. it's a campfire classic. you know the words by heart. your mommy hummed it to you back before you were a slut and now you have that tune stuck in your playlist. the ten minute solo is so lonely isn't it? someday soon the tune will no longer play as a top 40 as shortly before you'll grow up into a woman by growing out of being a whore. make sure that the unlucky bastard never knows how many times you've woken up feeling alone in a room with a stranger.
mi amore: comida
well good luck with life. and if you ever want a long distance relationship, look me up and we'll go from there.
lunch is the OVEREATER'S favorite meal of the day because there are ways to make excuses on why HE/SHE gets to eat more. for example:
1. I missed breakfast.
2. I don't plan on eating much for dinner.
3. It's in the middle of the day so lunch is the most important meal.
4. I deserve a little treat because I have had a hard day and am looking at more hard work to come.
5. I'm just a little extra hungry today.
6. I need to get that taste of cum out of my mouth.
7. Lunch prices are cheaper so I can afford more.
8. I'm going to work out at my yoga class later today.
9. Oh I'll just get a chicken ceasar salad, a basket of fries, and a Diet Dr. Pepper
10. What would Jesus do?
right now
over me. i am over you.
and i meant that i'm too.
good.
i was thinking that it really only takes one person in a group to fuck up the rotation. say for instance, there is a garbage can. say there are 3 fuckers:
mary
gary
harry
mary, gary, and harry respective each other as christians, alcoholics, housemates, and even mammals. they share a 2 bedroom apartment (harry sleeps in the den-converted bedroom). and so everyone is pretty much laid back. no neat freaks here!
well gary uses the garbage in the kitchen to throw out a box. the garbage is now 90% full. mary comes home and cooks up a storm. we're talking ramen, campbell's, and bumble bee tuna. afterwards, she has some icecream, her favorite: pecan-almond.
she eats so much because she is a woman and we're talking about pecan-mother-fucking-almond. she takes the empty carton and puts it in the garbage. now the garbage is 110% full (part of the box lies above the garbage can fold).
mary thinks to herself, "what the fuck mate?" for she feels bad leaving the garbage full for her pseudo cock, harry. (sidenote: cock is harry's mother's maiden name). she feels bad, but yet, she also feels like telling gary that by filling the garbage 90% full, he should have the responsibility of taking it out, or eating her pie out.
putang that is.
and so she leaves it. gary walks by and sees a full garbage and thinks, "fuck if i'm gonna take that out. i'm going to go masterbate instead."
harry walks by and see the garbage. he thinks, "why did i steal that blue jeep from wayne state and dropkick that stack of shitty devo cds that fag had in his car?" he walks right by the garbage because he's too busy wondering where he put his new set of keys.
no on takes out the trash for 4 more days. rather, garbage is just thrown out the windows or swept underneith.
i'm pretty sure my favorite type of food is potato. does that stun you?
also try these phrases at guns.com on that banner (previous posting)
1. do you like guns?
2. what about killing people
3. yes
4. would you help me kill nicole brown simpson?
i am a fire crack addict
ok, this is ridiculous. i just randomly, while waiting for my friend to call, went to www.guns.com
there is a rich media banner ad on the right side (160x600) that let's you do a virtual talk to her. it's "interactive" with the user. try it with...
type these things in:
1."your name"
2. skull fuck
3. eat poop
throw away your birthcontrol, it's almost 2006
i kill beer like o.j. kills white bitches.
it isn't anything at all.
sometimes the world collapses on microscopic levels, unseen by the naked eye
masterbation is god's way of saying, "hey go fuck yourself"
world you rather wish for world peace or for fat girls to be skinny?
chocolate makes me queef
last nite was ridiculous. dollar beers at this college type bar where an old school hip hop cover band played hits like: jump, nuthin' but a g thang, regulators, schooop, just a friend.
i was so drunk this morning when i woke up. i actually slept in 30 minutes longer. i never do. when i got out of the shower, i returned to find my housemate's cat had vomitted in my room. awesome.
and i get onto the train and am convinced i will vomit on the person sitting down in front of me. (i was standing up)
i get into work to find my key card is at home. doesn't matter anyway, it was a temp that they had nicely deactivated thursday evening, without telling me. they let me find out for my own that i was locked out.
so we had these peons bring in breakfast for us this morning and i'm thinking, i need some food to soak up this alcohol. remember, i'm still drunk. my face is visibly red from alcohol poisoning. i get back and find that i continuously put in my mouth multiple food items that don't belong together. such as potatos and strawberries. or bacon and grapes. and despite knowing and thinking this tastes like shit because of the combo i've made, i keep stuffing anything and everything, dief style.
and i drop some bacon onto my pants. i look down to pick it off (and eat it) when i notice, my fly was unzipped. and it had been the entire train ride
i'm still hungover now
don't fret about people who say "i'm going to kill myself if it's the last thing i do."
think about it. read it again
"i'm going to kill myself if it's the last thing i do."
that's being too literal. literal people don't really mean it.
my new thing to say when i am mad at someone is "suck you". it's a combination of suck off and kill you.
i work really hard so that when i come home late after a hard day's work, i don't feel guilty about wishing i were dead
working 12 hour days makes me crazy for your gun
if i had known michael jordon would turn out to be such a horse, i would have never sold him to phil jackson.
i woke up numerous times last nite and couldn't stop thinking about a few things.
well first i had this wierd ass dream that mayer set me up with this girl finally that he knew in chicago and her and i immediately fucked. and that was all good and all. but then i woke up and was so confused because it was only 2am (went to bed at 11:30) but the dream seemed so real that i thought it was. and i honestly could not tell.
it reminded me of the time i cut my self with my jagged, broken heart.
and seriously, the dream had been so intense and seemed like it was for a period of months that i thought it must have all happened.
sillee wabbit, twrix are fo kiddz (what it sounds like coming from a chink)
i woke up a few hours later still thinking about the past dream and just trying to determine if any of what had occured had any validity. and i determined that i was going through nicotine withdrawl symptoms as i hadn't smoked hams for over 50 hours. and being overworked probably didn't help either.
it's sad, someone did a search on MSN for "my little girl masterbating while asleep" and found my site as the first, natural result. and then clicked on it probably hoping to find pictures of a horse humping a rhino.
i hope i die before i get old. but i'm already feeling old.
thoughts about chocolate
unlikely is the man who grows to travel the land in search of the golden ticket to a ride that never came and will never come. blessed is the cross that bears down names resembling that of gods made in the image of man unselfish in intention but unholy in truth. there was not one nor two but three that forgot the fine line differentiating hope and the blind from societal suicide. the path through the light echoed a familiar hollow sound as if to warn the winter to fly south this summer. hunger? what do you know about it, so boldly stated that no tone inflection was needed. slumber comes to those who deserve better but who preserve the slender chance that the remainder will be worth. while you wonder about whether windows closed or cemented over will ever display life without words you press hard and fast clenching like a drowning dog dying before last breaths are ever breathed. look out. think. look in. more think. and tomorrow when the world turns again and you wake to find fate has not finally caught your illness will shine down to the heaven you don't believe. and you envy those that do.
woo hoo fuck you
i'm less concerned about ending world hunger as i am concerned about finding a ponderosa.
i want to beat my record of 24 wing dings.
besides your life, how are things going?
it's just a matter of time before i involve hockey with my orgasims
i'm supposed to go to a chicago FHM hometown hotties thing this thursday.
pointy shoes on girls impress me.
eye candy is like subconscious cancer.
see ya car! wayne state style.
i have no fucking idea where women got the idea that it's important to accessorize and match and wear cute purses and shoes and hats and jewelry. because men don't give a fuck? did they read it in a cosmo or something? or in a service merchandise calendar that is all about consumerism? or maybe in the fucking bible. who knows, i never read the fucker.
yeah i don't understand
i'm not your sugar daddy and you're not my whore.
the moment i woke up this morning in a feverish sweat, i knew it would be a bad day. let's recap:
1. didn't get laid
2. woke up still with sickness
3. due to inflamed throat, could not smoke (did not smoke since sunday)
4. forgot my work key access pass at home
5. worked 12.5 hours straight
6. literally ate part of my lunch while taking a piss to save time between meetings
7. ordered vietnamese almond chicken which is not at all the same as chinese-american almond chicken
8. spilled chicken sauce down my pants (permanent staining TBD)
9. still didn't get laid
bubble to bubble to bubble
compromise, let her orgasm too.
i want to use my shower curtain to blow my nose.
i would be happy as a writer if i could make just enough money to buy cigarettes, alcohol
the age difference between the gold digging cock sucker and the distinguished fool was noticible on the vacant grins on each of their faces.
and the marriage lasted just long enough for the two to acquire tan lines where false promises were slipped gently on and fiercely off.
i am not that much of an idiot
i'm only as good as you forget me.
in the winter, the sluts wear just enough clothes to stay warm. after all, no guy wants to fuck eskimo pussy.
there should be a law against working more than 9 hours. unless you're a slave in which case it isn't really work because you're not really getting paid.
i'm not pro slavery, i'm just pro whipping animals who resemble football players.
o.j. simpson, where are you now?
you shouldn't worry so much
i'm only as good, as you forget me. i'm only as good as you. forget me. i'm only as good as you forget, me. i'm only as good.
i write really good short stories but they always end premature, as if they were supposed to be novels. broken hearts and butterflies wind down at the end of the nite. with billy holiday crooning in the background the sound of chatter with laughter clatter against walls as the soon falls crippled from fright of hindsight. where the words whip like finger tips against the backless neck against the fret of friction sliding against the barrier of sound melodic and meloncholy like the man in the mirror, clearer with the television turned down. goodnite and goodbye and if i never see you again, well then that will be by choice for bitter and for worse gravity will rise again and when the clock strikes twelve and you turn into a phantom your beauty will fall seesawed by a blade made on sunnier days.
that is a funny verb
they need to invent suicide booths. and the suicide booths need to have collect call capabilities.
most girls are biatches and most guys are assholes and most sluts have no soul.
holloween is approaching which must be your favorite time of the year because you get to wear a mask over your ug face and capes sort of are slimming.
your god is way too sexy today.
i hope when referring to curve cock, people start saying "man he's got a lot of english on his cock". (european) football fans understand
that's right, i win
that was my second week really, but it was fine. everything is fucking fine.
if fuck were spelled fcuk, it would be sexier.
chicagopoly is like monopoly with crazy ass rules that suprise a junior player with little experience. joe makris got this fcuking "lose two turns" card which i am confident is not in the original monopoly game.
i got second out of three players damn it.
the entire train ride consisted of me trying to get into a comfortable position that would allow my asshole to seal up and not leak out the venomous juices that screamed for release.
when i got home, i painted my toilet brown.
i'm supposed to go to some club this friday to meet up with a friend. boo. and not the good kind.
gurls r stupid
so the death cab concert was good last nite. it wasn't great. i appreciate all the songs they played, most which were slower, but that is because i'm a fan. i don't expect people less of a fan to have thought the show to be so great. hard to rock and get pumped for that type of show.
to jimmy, billy, and circ's point, would have been more enjoyable had we been able to sit and chill to the music vs. standing. man, do we hate standing.
and so now i feel a little guilty asking for the cash for the tickets as i felt the show might have been a disappointment to the others. i should always take the money pre-performance.
oh well whatevernevermind.
the real issue is that i always feel guilty about this type of mediocre bullshit. who cares right? well i do feel guilty. i feel oj-guilty. as in i care to an extreme but i'm not going to let it ruin my golf outing plans.
day 2316, still searching for the killer.
taking the easy way out
so i was sitting on the EL this morning praying for death. This very unattractive woman who was probably 22 years old sat down in front of me. at first i thought she had candy sticking out of her purse/bag. then i imagined they were sticks of dynamite or firecrackers of some sort. but alas, it was some shit to knit or sew or whatever.
i immediately thought of jen smith
but then i thought more about how girls really need to be doing something or else they go crazy. it's ridiculous. and my thoughts then went to how guys don't have to be doing something because if they ever find themselves needing to occupy their time, they just think about sex: about fucking some girl they know or walked by or about some girl standing across the room, or even maybe, but hopefully not, a girlfriend or wife.
the ass to ass scene makes me laugh.
dear fuck face,
i want you to go ride your pony into a train. if you could play any part you'd play the pope. wouldn't you? i know all about your kind. you need water and love. in that order. i hate it when you smell like bacon. it reminds me of how fat you are.
sometimes when you're sleeping i like to stand above you and pretend that you are lying there dead. i imagine what it would be like if the sky opened up and dropped anvils like that episode of animaniacs. yep, you remember. that was back in the day when you still believed in miracles.
maybe someday you will get the chance to score with me and then your life won't seem so bland. maybe. but probably not. long ago i lost my genitals in a forest fire.
i wish john denver hadn't flown his plane into a mountain. i wish he were alive to serenade me now while i type this letter to you.
dear fuck face, fuck off.
let's take turns with each other under she comes around again
sometimes the drain is clutter by the dead skin and memories
the fall rush feels like the first kiss each year we forget
as the television winds down with another disappointed grin
think of me tonite while you're crying yourself to orgasim.
i've got longjohns under slacks for
fuck the dolphins!
fuck the pope!
that's it.
if i wanted your opinion, i would have raped it out of you.
cammie, what the fuck did your voicemail even mean? i was going to type that on your blog but i tried to get to it and it was an error, just like your mom's pregnancy.
leading up to a concert i always feel obligated to try and listen to the band's songs so that i'll know more for the actual show.
i know you're not trying to impress me. but that's okay, because i'm not trying to impress me either.
and i guess you must care?
if you see me at a bar and you recognize me come up don't be afraid i won't make you cry or run away i will save the last dance for you while i'm jumping around on your grave.
eat some real food
i just saw another preview or whatever for that show with gina davis where she becomes pres of u.s. and i think just how stupid this show is, not because is "about" a woman president but because i'm sure they will bring in some bullshit about her family and how she's the strong commander in chief but also how she's a mommy.
it'll just be stupid. cancelled after 1 season.
my mates and i were just watching donnie darko which is a great movie (obviously is as i own it duh fuckstick..). always makes you think.
i once started writing a song about the themes in donnie darko but have since given up or forgotten or whatever. so i don' t know about that but... yeah i really am sorry that i am so lazy that i cannot finish what i started. i blue balled that project.
well you don't get me because i'm unforgettable
though the days are few.
i've been feeling really old lately. reasons why i've been feeling old:
1. forgot to put on my curve cock cream 3 days straight
2. found myself masterbating to the golden girls
3. have more hair on my taint than i have wins in bag wars
4. new found ability to fall asleep with a errection
5. only order a single burger for breakfast at wafflehouse rather than a double
number 5 is my primary concern
so next monday is columbus day. that's right. what a great non-holiday for someone who sucks.
why don't we just have a Hitler day. it should be during the same time period as Chanukah.
when you were here before
i dig graves for a living. but at nite i dig chicks.
i wish it were nite time right now.
work is for the common people. i wish i was special. you're so fucking special.
jane, this is a train of thought exercise
sometimes the bees from the mouths of babes overflow into the ocean causing tidal waves of catastrophic success, peaking in the success of our mistress. the mid-life crisis, representative of half full or empty, whichever birds eye view will never be mistaken for youth. why would you wear that sweater knowing the heat and sweat you trap will fill your face with the vain attempts of dehydration? the frustration confusion flowing from the light shining beneith the bedroom door with noises above the little angelic creature hovering between your subconsciousness. don't feed the pets or they will come to love you. don't love the pets or they will disappoint and once you go black you will never reach all your dreams with one handful. try a shovel or a friend and the lover said she wanted to be friends but friends don't let friends eat alone on the sunniest of afternoons i remember seeing you once and then you were gone but you weren't ever there because the figment of my predicament constructed faith from the hope for more than you expect or the will to draw the middle straw will vanish into paper thin air ports remind me of that song hovering about and away like cheap hookers off to fuck a buck oh why cross fingers and smile when holding up banks at gun point less and forgetfullness collide into one like the stars once did before gravity decided to give a care. there will and never was but that does not inherit responsibility enough to curbdrop her at the cracks of cement before the abortion clinical psych is for the followers of a jesus that will not guide you to anything that isn't there if you were blind. or are you not?
game on
oh my god i just opened up my old email address just to clear out junk mail and well i'm also ___.
so there
and i see a number of "confirm order from amazon" email subjects and am like, what the fuck. i open one and see a charge to my mastercard. a feeling of shittiness comes over.
and then i notice the date and it's from 2002. i had accidently sorted my email by alphabetical subject and forgot from last time. so...
anyway.
saw part of an nhl game tonite. LA KINGS vs. DALLAS FUCK STARS
not once not twice
i need a bigger gun for shooting bigger fish.
so alan trammel got his ass canned. great.
hockey season starts tomorrow, which means i will be watching that happily for the next 8 months.
i either need to actually cook some food tonite or i need to unpack more shit. hmmmmm?
bracelet number 2? number 9 number 9.
tell her it's over now
i want to meet a girl who will know how to give cpr to my 4 hour cialis induced errection
i'm listening to weezer because i miss
fountain coke is better i think
so i have this feeling i will wake up in the middle of the nite tonite and not know where the fuck i am.
and i mean that two fold:
1. new room/apartment/home/city/life?
2. did i make the right decision with this new life?
by the way, i thought the french roommate was gay (not because he seemed that way but because i thought someone had told me that he was).
turns out he is not gay but him and the asian girl living here are dating. interesting.
i like this place. it's a huge step. you don't even know it.
so this is the new year
so i live in chicago now, offically.
i was unpacking my shit this afternoon and found in a pocket 3 unused (wrapped) condoms and a 3/4 full pack of cigs. i hit the jackpot baby.
i think it's going to rain so i need to go to the grocery store before it does.
fuck you.
it's been a while since i've said anything as i've been busy. saying one's busy basically means that one has more important things to do.
which i have.
but think about it. everytime you or someone says that the reason they/you haven't seen someone in a long time is because they/you've been busy really means you've been doing other "betteR" things that don't involve said person.
and it's fine.
but if you don't have the time to make time for certain people, then you really just don't give a flying fuck.
and that's ok
just realize and move the fuck on. actually, just realize. because you've already moved on.
aparently?
