nonsense
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Below are the 10 most recent journal entries recorded in the "steve" journal:[<< Previous 10 entries]
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04:34 pm
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dusseldorf
we're having a lot of fun. i'm skipping down the hallway singing improvised songs. this is an outrageous predicament. i'm pickled and i've been unloaded. i was on a truck, but i fell off. i bruised my rear. i stapled my homework to a steer. there was an outcry from the animal. i had to hold the handle of my bike. i'm on strike. at the crack of noon, i'll inflate a balloon with air from my lungs. i'm simply stunned. i can't take baked beans any more. not like that whore. i've got a cream pie smeared on my face. face it, i'm in a state of unrest. all of this drivel is in jest. i'm the most flamboyant trendsetter i can imagine. i'm pretty ravishing if you think about it. i'll give you time. just wait. wait for my own hesitation to update facebook status and gallivant around like a dopey phallus. i'm doped up on the thrill of an uncorrected life. i inherit the sins of my father and throw them away. i'm not fit to be sunken in a guilty life. that quagmire is not for me to endure. i'm too clean, free, and pure. i'm a noble spirit, and i'm with it. i can dig it. i know all about easter island and cabbage patch dolls. i know about shopping malls and their splendor. i can spend money with the best of them, i can spend money on a whim, i'm whimsical and i don't give a damn. there is not a damn to give. give it up for me! give up on irrational outbursts. i'm not medicated, i'm supportive of a free lifestyle. i'm physically fit, i'm able to bike a mile. i don't see the need to continue this screed, so i must take my leave of this ephemeral scene. see you around, clowns.
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03:38 pm
[Link] | i'm glad that ween exists.
i do enjoy a glass of water.
melt banana is a good band!
today i had a very good sandwich at subway. it was ham and cheese on flatbread. it was satisfying.
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04:28 pm
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positive experiences, aknowledgements of gratitude
i'm grateful for the music of john zorn, michael gira, and j.g. thirlwell.
i'm grateful for my computer.
i'm grateful for my job.
in the past 24 hours, i have discovered the youtube channel "pronunciationguide". it's really funny. it made me laugh multiple times, which is hard to do. it was a positive experience.
that is all.
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03:04 pm
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relativity
the lights went out. it wasn't less dangerous. i was not entertained. my brain is sprained. i'm pained to state these facts, but i'm at an impasse. i'm trapped between hard places and rocks. i'm in an avalanche. i'm in a woman's handbag, clutching the little lipstick applicators and pennies. i put the coins in my eyes so i can see clearly the thought of money, burning in my spoiled mind, a rectangle is the shape of cash, i'm alarmed and ashamed, sashaying through this ethereal armada of slowed down pedestrian decadence. watery to the taste, late for the birthday, labeled as such, a solid effort, an affront to the senses and abrupt. and not fluttering much. little tiny insects around me annoying. so saccharine and cloying, the absorption of the thin wristed limp lipped boys, calling me out on my sadism. payed well, broken legs under the table, level up to hell. a new station in life, maintaining the facade and borrowing time, rewind the cassette of ligament tape. press the flesh and undo countless years of dastardly damage to the well oiled oozing zone, the flesh tuba, the clueless orca. i am bandaged, sweating for a cause. in effect, i'm gnashing my jaws and chewing up rotten meat. maggots are inside, they are in a new country now. they are in a new tube going down. esophagus highway to intestine city. i never said it would be pretty. i'm pretty sorry that i implied certain things. are you kidding, i'm never sorry. i don't want to do that. i'm not qualified to tame a vampire bat with lots of catnip and cologne. i'm never all alone. i'm crawling with parasites. i'm better than you. i'm the center of the universe. all my thoughts are absolutely true. you would look nice with a bullet hole in your forehead. she would look nice with a knife in her neck. this is something i've heard before, it's something i would expect from someone with no conscience. you are the kind of guy that wouldn't pet a dog. you are the kind of guy that is wrong. you're a diamond spray-painted black. you're giving me a soul attack. sour soul, insipid. she sipped the stinging stuff and slurred her speech, she was something i was beneath. scratch that, reverse it. what does it all mean? smurf it. this story is perfect. i'm inert, rotting like bologna on the counter. i'm one of the fiends you will encounter. i will prevail, i will enable myself to win the game, i will be snotty and sassy, dainty and crabby. i want another all beef patty. i want mayonnaise. i want to nuke the maze. i don't care for all those twists and turns and dead ends. the dead ends of life are everywhere, and there's no turning back. there's a war, there's an attack on decency. there's assault on peace and clean living. clean thoughts are nonexistent at this point in time. cynicism is the hive mind. there is no escape, resistance is futile, life is not worthwhile. stop and think for a moment. did you really want that donut? did you or didn't you? the girl gave me the wrong one. she's new, and dumb. what happened to the other employee? has she taken her leave? she knew what she was doing. she knew what thoughts were brewing in the minds of the consumers of a sticky poison product that would get her to feel awestruck. i'm not able to bear this weight of nonsense any longer. i'm not better, faster or stronger. i'm not made of money, money doesn't grow on trees. but we don't mind, we've all had lobotomies. we're doing what we can with what we have. we're brain damaged, we're mad, we're unexpected saviors, burgeoning. we're ruling you out. we are now eating pig snout. i enlist the help of my imaginary friend. i don't really believe in him, he's been dead for years. he suffered and died for no reason at all. for no rhyme, no purpose. the suffering was fun. it had a strong effect on my sense of humor. it's time to start over. i can't create any more. i'm a dried up well of sorrow. i'm wilted and drying out, cracking up. i'm turning into dust that will collect on stones that will be inscribed with dead mens' names. i'm not ashamed, i'm beyond that. i'm a real gone cat. i'm a smooth daddy, i'm pleasing to the eye, i'm maddening, i'm spry and in the bloom of cruelty, using up all that i see. i am a crime. i am not fit and i am not done yet. i am in my prime, i'm not worth one thin dime. glory days that never were. i'm never going to purr. i'm deserted and a waste. abjection puts me in my place. i'm hung up, tied down, and force fed garbage that makes me frown. i'm not willing. i'm sick of the routine. i'm annoyed by all i've seen. i can't take anymore. i can't face the consequences of a million casual cold hearted actions. i can't stand the sound of them laughing. you're forcing me to violence. i'm forcing myself to be silent. i'm sickened. i'm cold to the core. i can't understand anything anymore. life doesn't even make sense to a child. as the child grows, it becomes too wild and thrashes around and makes messes and screams and makes noise and bleeds. this is something we all need to be aware of. this is a shame, this is the life. this is going to be another waste, this is going to cause untold strife. this is going down the drain to the end of a pipe. a sewage treatment plant can't fix these beaten souls, they evaporate into heaven, but they're too late. the place has been abandoned by the creator. he said, "see ya later!" and went to another universe. well, could things get any worse? don't ever say that. you can't sway the gnat. you can't abstain from the exercise mat. i can't fathom why anyone would do a jumping jack. i'm doctor death, i'm doctor doom. i've been sucker punched and sent to my room for saying bad words. i was cussing, i wanted to be heard. i was making noise and cursing my creator. i still believe that i'm my own savior. i'm not the best i could be, but i'm the only one that matters. i've got a bullet in a gun and now the blood splatters. why are you taking a work of fiction seriously? really? really? yeah, really. you really got me. i really know what i'm doing. don't try to stop me. i've been doing this for years. nobody can eliminate my ghostly thoughts. i'm my own holocaust. i can't be a cancer, i can be a worm. this is something i've earned. a fistful of hatred, and a battle tank of ungratefulness. i'm plagued and sense sins, i feel horrible energy. i am not going to win. i already won, but i felt nothing. i only express emotion when it's negative. i'm abominable, but it's all relative.
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04:16 pm
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gentle man
a misanthropic agenda, cyclones of mystical precipitation, onanism, hedonism, festivals celebrating patricide. a tendency to overdo things in an effort to create a diversionary alibi, useful in the personal sector. an outpouring of emotion for the defendant, unruly mobs with marbles lost tossed off a list of black lettered names. we will pay for playing those games. a moronic spitting of fallacies and inconsequential gibberish, circular logic dictating the actions of imbeciles led to the slaughter for the audience's laughter. a hate crime, soaking in grime, an amoral litterbug population hell bent on the death of all that is fine and good. lap it up, lazy pimple faced teenage swine. you're the worst kind of trend setter. i'd rather be dead, i'd rather be unfettered from the constraints you place on yourself and your offspring. i am swimming in a wellspring of hate-drunk adrenaline. i'm altogether a complete gentleman.
Current Mood: gentle
Current Music: Throbbing Gristle - Weeping
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01:52 pm
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well adjusted, hateful, vengeful
i'm sorry that i don't have an unlimited supply of money. i'm sorry that i'm not sleazy enough. i'm sorry that i'm a mutant.
but i'm proud of my illness. i'm proud of pillows. i'm proud to burn with life, alive with energy.
why?
where have you been all my life? where has the subaru been all my life?
hyundai, perfect. wookiee, wowzers. i'm a well adjusted young man.
i have a plan. i have hatred. i have ignorance and i ignore people. i'm willfully stupidly prancing around, look at me, i'm a regular boob! haw!
i will hurt people. i've done it before, but i can do it better. i'm ready to explode. i'm so angry.
a case of crowding around the gums. a crappy situation. i agree that this sucks. i suck ducks out of a pond with my powerful lips. blip, bloop, i'm unfit, uncouth, raised wrong, not alone for long with the company of misery. sing the songs of evil children, i obey orders given by my boss. i'm the floss cleaning between the teeth of mundane reality. i'm a little slave boy, on my knees in the kitchen. i'm slaving away for your happiness. i'm only doing this because i care.
i've been assaulted. i'm broken and leaking precious fluids all over the linoleum. have you seen my gun? have you seen my baseball bat? i practiced swinging it in the mirror during my workout, i looked powerful and i was excited by that sight. i'm pleased by the vision of my might.
those crazy solos! how can anyone do that? i can't. i'm not good enough. i was born bad, not good. not good enough for dad. not good enough to act like i care. just stare blankly through my eyes and see a meaningless insufferable event. feel the angry heat coming through the vent. i can't let out my feelings because they're against the law. i have to pick up all the spilled coleslaw. my hands with fingers exposed picked up the mess, you saw my figure posed, poised to please you, but you couldn't take it, so i threw bees at you. i fire bees at will from my hands with just a thought to guide me. i can deride you and climb a mountain, i can stuff my belly with pasta, i can stuff my bra with tissues, i can stuff my panties with cucumbers, i can stuff my mouth with pampers. i'm not fit to write this dreck, but i'm fit to inspect an imaginary body with my dirty fingers. after the inspection, the odor lingers.
use your mind to fantasize. try some roleplay on for size. do what you like, it's a waking dream. feel free to be a queen. this is your parade, this is your day. have your will, have your say. bend reality under your thumb. laugh at what you've now become.
click those heels, sarge. we're going to never never land, and i never want to stay up late again. i don't like to watch talk shows, i just like to sip chocolate milk when i'm wearing my clothes. when i'm naked it's another story. with a canadian accent i'll say "i'm sorry."
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01:53 pm
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fudge
shall we rid ourselves of damaging desires? i know of a substance that can get us higher. up the stairs, ensnared in a loving bear hug, the bare skin and the razor sharp plug, the socket is in anticipation of a certain frequency of movements in this symphony. electrified bearskin rug with eyes lighting up like holiday decorations, i feel these apocalyptic reverberations, bear with me, i'm sluggish like a snail climbing a tree. in order to complicate matters, i can and will shatter barriers. the obstacles that existed in other lifetimes for strangers to challenge. they failed like space shuttles breaking up in the atmosphere, i fear for my life if such things are true. my country is divided in two. the outcome of separate warring factions. it's the main attraction at this circus sideshow freak display. time to sit down and obey the orders given by the higher ups. time to shut your mouths, listen to your guts. the lies and slander you absorbed will morph through your hateful flesh until your defiance is fully formed. you'll come out of the closet of anger, bristling with rage, dripping with pungent furious sweat. the aroma was intoxicating and the texture of your palms was wet and cold like a dead fish on a toilet seat. that's the one thing that can't be circumnavigated - the absolutist gum flapping and desperate disillusioned developing amateur masturbators. the deafening startling roars of an ocean of contempt for the status quo, the answer is no, i can't say how many times i've rejected the concepts of equality and liberty in the name of greed. money is a weapon that we use to fight off decency. by making a smaller carbon footprint, we are pretending to be worthwhile individuals. i've succumbed to this new idea, this new drivel is my tightrope. a messiah i hope to please, to crow about my offerings, to gloat and strut, to stroke my ego and limp on my crutch, i can persist in my abominable career of insincerity, my title is my definition, i've had enough of this nutrition, it's time to abstain from healthy living. a new job destroying an optimistic vision. no clear outcome yet came from burning my brain. insipid flames consuming the ghostly memories floating free though evolving consciousness, what a pest. destroy all conscious thought at all costs. bow down and worship an empty mind, the source of all peace in this world. this is true wisdom, a perfect pearl. i've straddled the border long enough, the yawning chasm in the cracking earth. i shall not tumble into the magma miles below, i'm unique as an apprentice of doom, i've been sent to my solitary confinement room. enough of all this jabbering and flimflam, i can't stand this outrageous jam, this rut, this aberrant theater of boring cruelty. so sue me. soothsayers unite against common enemies, use your noodle. resurrect me, climb the barricades and trade places with opponents, prod and joke like a comedian, be mean to them, drive in the median, cluster bomb of hilarity knocking the air out of me, i was nearly eliminated, but my sad sack appearance was the better of two evils. i smelled what the rock was cooking, i was between him and a hard place, the hard rock cafe, i was face to face with some stinking dismay, i was in an air craft carrier, i was dominating my enemies while wearing leather. fringed leather outfit with diamond studs. hard rocking dudes with jewels sewn into their duds. my elite forces will force feed you unsavory offerings. i'm not joking, i'm just talking. i'm rollicking and carousing, i'm a carousel of sounds badmouthing others and stuffing my straw man with feathers. it's an avian death for the hearty among us that can stomach this. an oven baked sensation claiming clams for its own and roaming unfettered with the lively quails and docile otters. how calm the beasts are. where have the flagrant violators gone? i can't withstand the pistol whipping aggressors coming my way. i'm intrinsically intertwined with a law and order attitude which deserves an adjustment. i'm my own government. we shall sadly see who comes out with fists flying on top, a magic carpet will degrade and rot. now what have we got? nothing, i tell you what. i endanger hidden genders and disturb my disciples. i am ripe for the picking, i'm spouting lies and upholding the truth like a worthwhile flame, a truth i can't explain. i'm out of my element. i'm considered irrelevant. every face of this diamond is dirty. inner filth in purgatory, i can't purge the innocence or the inexplicable moral nonsense from my being. i understand exactly what i'm seeing. i'm torn apart, vibrating, slipping away, partying down, cackling, shaking and pulling apart my body with my own bare hands. i am the man. i'm going to force myself to understand. i'm corrupt and a fool, i'm now in a baked bean swimming pool, suffocating but enjoying the flavor of the canned laughter. the more i eat the more i toot my own horn. i am reborn. i am an anti-god atrocity fixated on his own foul misdeeds erupting now unabated, howling savagely, turning into a giant maggot with jagged teeth. i'll consume the rotting flesh that i find beneath the dumpster behind taco bell. i'm flying through the air and speaking in tongues. there's nowhere for me to run. am i having fun?
Current Music: Secret Chiefs 3 - Barakiel
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01:48 pm
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circus of transfusions
i don't know what to do. i'm unnaturally attracted to flaming sabers piercing the armored hides of mutated armadillos. relinquishing all control, relish in the delight, lighting my fire, raving about my plight, watch those buns roll. the sweaty pillowy rolls of someone you know or care about, a cancerous union in the train station. unholy, unwed mothers uniting for a force greater than the deathly visions underneath the atrium. i'm not allowed to make sense, i'm deluded and shook up, shake well before consuming and dispose of me properly when i am empty. please abide by my arbitrary rules. i am unraveling the threads of reality from their spools. we crawled out of the slime up through your schools. i am abusing my privilege and power, i'm a corrupt officer, a barking dog unable to do anything but hide under the table with the crippled addicts, hiding from reality and adding to their emotional baggage.
friday night and sore as heck, i have a splitting headache, what a pain in the neck. dearly beloved, a bloated aching horror show. a love of smooth jazz. i am mathematically impossible. the possibility is implausible. i'm not flossing, i'm shrugging and walking away, wanton, lost in my own dreadful greed. i'm a demon seed fertilizing a black hole. drifting aimlessly, out of control, out of order, out of this world, out of orbit, out for blood, out for revenge and retaliation. an ant lion can conquer the army led by a daughter of the revolution. a fraudulent frivolous frilly forlorn filly, spastically drawing attention to herself and her pointless desires. we're crossing dangerous wires and risking electrocution. i'm finally getting my education. the money i've spent was put to good use. i'm a swan, not a goose. i'm not stepping out of line in an infantry, i'm simply tasting the limes and acting nice and dainty.
Current Music: Foetus - Ramrod
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01:52 pm
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gentlemanly
you're not thinking. howling with laughter, bowling them over. overflowing with concubines using cucumbers to stir the brine and stir up trouble, a polluted bubble of frivolous pleasure blowing in the breeze, under the weather. the dark cloud of crows flying above the scene descended to feed upon the carrion. carry on, you vast troubling public. there is nothing more i can do, i can only observe and and string together words at my leisure. i'm not equipped to make decisions or speak publicly. i can end this paragraph. that would be very abrupt of me.
a new paragraph explaining the reasons and reactions of my atypical activities. some were sobbing and wailing on their knees in front of me, but i paid no mind. i was not a witness to their shameful crimes. i was busy scrubbing my bathroom, removing the grime. i'm very methodical that way, i'm an ambivalent infantryman. i make things out of clay. i'm an automaton and a marching mannequin, i can do it, i did. i ate it. i have an ice cream stained bib. my lips are two strips of glowing fat, i recline, relaxed. suited up for the occasion, i distribute scorn evenly amongst the steaming piles of human dung. i'm referring to the individuals to whom i have an allergic reaction. this could clearly never be my scene. i can't walk on the tiles because they're wet and have no traction. i'm so undeniably grotesque and unclean. how can i be changed from a jerk to a yuppie? why would anybody kick their own puppy? the same answer applies to both questions, but nobody knows the correct response. our future failures are governed by a hive of giant wasps that communicate with severe buzzes and savage clicks. out of this world romantic suppurating language and "dancing." it makes me sick.
this rambunctious outfit was laying it on thick. heaving globules of viscous infected honey and phlegm rolling around on tongues, swirling into the water supply. the dirty laundry is hung out to dry like so many neglected children wading in a ditch, scratching an incurable itch for an anarchic reawakening of sensory overload. the skull overflowed with the mud of poisoned thoughts. this will end that drought. no parent can explain the absolute truth in a concrete way. the absolute truth is that someone is gonna pay. the sweetest thing in life is a dish best served cold. the cold shoulder of creamy sweet contempt. i cried tears of joy as i slept. the feeling crept up on me like a tarantula on my back. i could feel such a deep impact on my chain of thoughts, i could feel those shots. the syringes administering the antidote to peace. i'd rather not know relief. i burn with a fury now unleashed in the form of a diary entry. how gentlemanly.
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04:26 pm
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sundown
i see no problems arising in this business. as usual, the suspects were apprehended and questioned. the interrogation was successful in ascertaining the whereabouts of various gang members. thugs, true to their roots. a plain statement meant to boggle the mind and reprimand those in the guise of a man with a spine. those with the courage to walk tall and act indifferent and assertive. asserting their dominance in a playful astute manner. just reciting lines given from the teleprompter. promptly evaluating the scene at hand and rapidly cycling through various routines. the quick witted die last, but winners run young and thirst for a gun. only a blue barreled shotgun can blast through the plywood wall of the obtuse landlord lady hobgoblin swaying in hammock. a clamorous ditty ringing and startling, swinging in its uprooted form, now moving vertically, circling and pulsating like waves of phosphorescent fabric possessed by benevolent poltergeists. a sawdust anthem propagating the now defunct species, written in longhand ink, bow legged and thick skinned children at play in the lumberyard adjusting their spines in a chiropractic fit, a newfound sense of gaiety in the midst of a soothing mist in the dawn of a new, unspoiled day. one thing lies inside the other, here come the awkward rhymes, oh brother. what shall we do about this regression in form? what about rhythm? i sense critical scorn.
we ain't ready for no dissertation. my holy socks have relish splattered on them. their pattern is argyle. my gargoyle is in a battle royale with sentient trees. tackling and dissecting them like pinned down bees ready to be galvanized by the unstoppable monster truck force from a fist full of mad bled raw rash rage. sausage on the side.
running through this laundry list of elements that comprise my fitting style, sitting thinking of antonyms, this could take a while. my slumber was cut short by thunder, a dying daisy on the old front porch, something was wrong, a torch song sang to a roach, a blister fondled as bad guys encroached and breached security. they leeched my supply of steel from me. i've been saving that up, persevering and preserving the proud tradition and the honor of knowing my heavenly father. just kidding, i would never falter or fall to that unspeakable level. the only thing i know is memorized babble. a bumptious babe braiding her hair in my maze of hedges felt perplexed and vexed, but continued the task at hand. i had to hand it to the dame, she knew her role well. she sung a song about hell in a sonorous tone, seducing me out of my gilded throne to the foot of the steps which led to my glory, now i'm an absurd and foolish drooling carny lying about age and suspecting the maid of theft. she took the scraps of material that i left in my wake. my funeral ended abruptly and without a hitch. i would tell a lie, but i ain't no snitch. in fact, i'm a well paid witch in the service of stan lee and his comic book commandos, loaded rifles are present, menacing the phantoms from the future and marching with high steps, goofy stepping around, dubbing in inappropriate sound, suckling on the l.e.d. "free" teat. we'll take it forevermore because we can and we care and we're scammed and we're scared and we're destined for mediocrity in an ever expanding city. i'm a citizen of the world, and the world is my oyster. i'll use this fact to bolster my empty cover letter as i attempt to gain employment from fair weather friends. i care, but i pretend. yo, yeah, hey ho, oh god, no. let's do the thing, ha ha ha, all that jazz. fantastic. you got it. jubilation.
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