nonsense

bah!

Tue, 05 Jan 2010 21:23:41 GMT

gosh, i gotta get my jollies somehow! josh, they dirtied the mollies somehow! i made a sensible rhyme. i made things happen according to plan. how grand! what a cunning plan i executed. sally forth and begone! dead bed wetter! something was slipped into my salad. a rude rutabaga? rooting through rudyard's scrap heap i found a cracked globe. there were snakes inside the globe. they bit me. i had only hours to live. i had only sours to give. candies that melt in your heart, not your lungs. screaming at the top of my lungs for no reason at all, i fell from the highest rungs and now it's time to trawl. give up! i am commanding you keenly. i have loud bass, and it feels good, man.

god rested on the fourth day, in flames, and drowned his sorrows in an ocean of tears. now that i make sense i'm in the clear. clear eyes. why wait? don't disintegrate! apply the holy lotion with care! give your mother a scare! scare tactics gone wrong - how? capitalism gone right? wow!

stand in the place where you work
assert your excellence
prove that you aren't a jerk
overcome pestilence
be all that you can be
stand tall
the right mentality
demand it all

it's not funny, beatrice! quit giggling at my superiority! tough titty! ain't no thang. nobody, nowhere, no how! anyhow, the stakes have been claimed! very tough breakfast meats have been acquired. very good songs have been sung. very good things are all around us in this town. in this city. in this striped shirt. oh my goodness! jeez.

it's difficult to plow through this barrier. could this situation get hairier? yes. at my behest. zest. fully clean, i squint at the screen. is there more to say? i can dream, can't i? it hurts. i feel good! there is nothing to say. every day!

how it's going

Wed, 23 Dec 2009 02:17:32 GMT

i've had this livejournal for over ten years!

wowzers. i should write something melodramatic and angsty. or maybe i should write something backhoe wraparound gardenia fub. flap jack. snub. caw!

this would be more depressing if i wasn't taking st. john's wort.

i'm re-reading bluebeard by vonnegut. great book.

i'm making DOOM WADS.

christmas doesn't bother me, but still: bah!

that is all.

Sun, 22 Nov 2009 04:47:04 GMT

i had a dream that my mother was chasing me with an axe, and i couldn't run as fast as i wanted to.

today at work, a child said, "hey, mr. big-nose" to me. i forced a weird smile at the child, and it made him laugh.

old dream

Mon, 16 Nov 2009 16:50:58 GMT

i was looking through some of my old boxes and i came across this description of a dream i had. this is probably from about 1997:

I dreamed I was in school, but all my classes were messed up. Mr. Ashley was in a really big room & I didn't know what was going on. He laughed at me when I couldn't figure anything out. I have a headache, but I took some Tylenol, so I'll probably get better. I also dreamed I was in a game that took place on an island & i was walking around when Matt said "Hey let's check out that area!" It was like a dirt path way over some water in between some canyon. It looked like I was in Mario 64.

He said it like he'd seen it before. Anyway, when he looked in it, he said "Oh man! There's a big old mack truck in it!" Sure enough, when I looked there, I saw a giant truck balancing on 2 pathways. This seems so familiar.... When we came back later, the truck was gone, so Matt & I went down the canyon catwalk. Down the canyon, there were 2 statues of women. I blinked, & there was a cloth over them. Matt lifted it, & they came to life, but they were men in drag! They started singing and dancing & I can't remember the rest, it's too fuzzy.... Wait. I remember that there was also a dead animal in a tuna can. I was carrying it around a strange area with sand around it. The animal was not bloody, but felt like tuna or mud & was dark blue. Some of it got on me, which I found sickening. Soon, I dug up a hole in the sand with my hands and put the can in, & put dirt on top of it.

Tue, 10 Nov 2009 18:21:33 GMT

i dreamed that i started updating livejournal every day, but every entry was extremely short, boring, pointless, and stupid.

blood on the buttplug

Wed, 28 Oct 2009 21:10:38 GMT

i'll have you know that children in pakistan suffer from many of the same disorders that unruly nuns in arkansas do. the blues can be chased away by means of a relatively inexpensive penknife. our respective sewers are veritable playgrounds for demons, if i may say, verily. i will verify the findings of the scientific community. i have immunity.

a lovely predicament as i fish pickles out of the jar
only alarmed by a honking car
it made no sense at the time of the slaying
i can smell the fish you're filleting
small time crime in a big bad city
if you can't take the heat, well, tough titty
hahahahaha

um

laid back!

this is it! that is where it's at! i've seen it with my own two eyes, mang. i am in a pillowcase. i wanna eat green beans all day. i wanna roll in the hay with a demon in a manic episode of doom. there is no escape. don't you know who the fuck i am?

i'm ashamed of that story i wrote. i feel like i can't write. i can't make myself add "fluff" to anything, unless you count utter nonsense intercontinental incontinence swirly jet lag bitch pool slanted pitchfork waddle douche.

i demand a certain percentage of chaos from entertainment. to be caught off guard, as it were, is an enjoyable sensation. it's non-sequitur. it reminds me of how little sense anything makes.

i just want to spend my money in peace.

shame stick, unfortunate pledge screwtop

Tue, 27 Oct 2009 18:18:41 GMT

rudely interrupt fecal salesmen on the dancefloor
casually attempt to jettison a handsome whore
metallic rough edged angels stuck to electromagnets cry
singed and singing demons glide through the sky
there is no theme but an insidious meme
enough to make a baby elephant scream
the crime of this generation is negligence
these squealing pigs will not get the inheritance
pennies cover my eyes and dollar bills are wrapped around my feet
the perpetration of this carnal act is really really neat
preparation h raymond dances for joy in his volkswagen bug
as god prepares to crush him like a bug
nobody deserves a bear hug, just rough love
nesting in the alcove above, aye, that's the rub

what the frick?

peppers boldly going where no man has gone before. setting fire to my love letters to lenore. prancing gaily in the field of poppies, popping pills and committing atrocities at geocities. belly dancing on the roof of the alabaster cathedral. requesting a permanent vacation at one of my seven koopa hotels. probably on our side. a fertile question, a query unnoticed by the authorities at large. at the large hendrix memorial, atom smashing was done for fun. salute your shorts, you unwieldy cretin. there's no stopping the cretins from hopping on pop or squatting on logs like slimy toads. i shall go down unorthodox roads. slit the jugular for nutrition or give up on sin altogether. it's not a choice. tear off one of your wings to appease others. this is good for your feathers. an elementary part of growing up in the seven seas. can't you see? just die, you bitch! god, don't you get it? don't you get it!? adam ant is here to cleanse us, man! the carnival has left town! our unearthly orchestra continues to run you down in the street while quentin tarantino ogles uma's feet! this is a restless algorithm and i got my groove back. like realplayer i will never stop projecting my fears onto you. i'm like a leaky faucet with a cold sore. i'm a bleeding boar. i'm subjected to flabbergasting tests of the english language and diabolical diaphragms. i will stay true to the salutations given to me by trolls. i will oil up the ropes and bombs. furry young men will bring me magazines which i will set aflame like illegal grapes in a cystaline white house inside a planet eating giant's spleen.

cut the ropes and barricade the drawbridge, honey - because we're in for a real feathery treat tonight at the fireside.

ztnawq

Fri, 23 Oct 2009 21:06:24 GMT

there is a connection between tickling, pain, torture, and pleasure
that is the key to my buried treasure
you will be missed
you'll be blood mist
naked in the park under a crescent moon
this juvenile delinquent is sent to his room
i'm proud of you, you're a productive member of society
i'm loud too, villainous with notoriety
a clown of note, i've bent all the prison bars
burned up the envelope and put makeup on my scars
i am only here to entertain you
don't complain when i've slain you
i killed out there, they were eating out of my hand
they kicked out the chair, now i no longer stand
now i hang like i'm cool, i'm a meaningless fool
in hell i will rule, hawaiian punch in my pool

george branford had a fantastic idea. george was an evil christian man that believed very strongly in heaven and hell. george was also a murderous, hateful man and had killed dozens of people over the years without arousing the suspicion of the authorities. slaughtering people was a great thrill for him, but george branford was also a terrible megalomaniac. his great idea was to enter heaven and kill god - the ultimate thrill. to accomplish this, george spent the remainder of his life being a charitable, compassionate man. on his deathbed he knew deep in his heart that he would get to heaven so he could finally brutally murder god. nobody knows if he has accomplished his goal, because no living person has been to the afterlife. did he kill god? i believe he did. oh well!

fun!

Tue, 13 Oct 2009 19:34:44 GMT

i think the most fun i can have now is eating a bowl of ice cream.

non sequitur? more like hanna barbera's bloodiest cajun goldfish in a yellow melting space shuttle!

Wed, 07 Oct 2009 12:41:19 GMT

pucker up, jezebel. it's time to cut those apron strings, time to let loose. a rotten tooth, the whole truth. nothing but, better than the best, ridden in a dress, prolapsed password-protected connective tissue. are you verklemmt? need a kleenex? want some jello to wash down all that tripe? i spit verbal pellets of feces. i collected them from the bottom of the cage. this is that total age. we dance because we can, my man. totally uneducated, spearheaded, revolutionary jargon. i am relieved of my duty. i am duty-bound to release my prisoners: hope, faith, optimism, and health. enjoyment is just the next step in the game. i'm stepping up my game. i use a step as an exercise tool. you can buy one, but they don't teach you how to use it in school! i can't stress the importance enough of this next step - exorcise your demons with lots of pep! i'm talking about catharsis here. i'm walking in the death march, dear. this is so dear. dear john, why do you sound like kermit the frog? is it easy being green? you are a lasagna hog.

go hang a salami, ernie and bert! i know the right way to get hurt! suffering builds character and now i'm fully developed! all fleshed out, in an identity enveloped!

is that you speaking, or the drug? does somebody need a hug? oh i know you dislike human contact. your will spilled out cuz your soul's cracked.

how did it get that way? where is that large automobile? continue to make yourself pay! that wound will never heal!

a haphazard collection of musty moldy ugly cold lonely wreckage for me and you to sit upon and ponder. a wild and wacky utopia metropolis past those yellow hills yonder.

that's slander! i'll sue! salamander! get a clue! play the board game and board the next train to clarksville! i have no need for pea-brained butt-heads like you and your ilk. i just wanna stay home and drink some milk! i will continue this charade at all costs, for when the worm turns you'll taste the special sauce!

bloody ballroom! the blode! how could they miss that gigantic choad? i knew from the start all this menace had meaning! a doom-struck dead-eyed drag queen knew nothing but sin in the mausoleum of his mind!

it was as plain as a pork rind. in the light of day, all solutions made sense. there were multiple paths to this heavenly concept. a concrete approach had been made plain. a stake was driven, all the lights lit up. an epiphany occurred. significance appeared out of procedurally generated events and objects. once again, synchronicity had showered us with it's zonked out wisdom. some say it saved the day.

my so called life

Thu, 01 Oct 2009 20:25:04 GMT

i sure haven't written a lot lately! could it be that my "inspiration" was directly related to drug abuse? i have given up not only alcohol, but caffeine as well! and look - i make sense! ho ho ho! but not for long!

i still can't make myself use correct capitalization and punctuation, though. Can I?

i don't know. Perhaps. Perhaps not! I will continue to overuse exclamation marks.

I enjoy Devo. Weird Al Yankovic recommends them. So do I!

now i want to quit drinking soda and high fructose corn syrup. will i lose "water weight?" i'm drinking water right now! i saw an advertisement in a magazine that asked "are you skinny fat?" with a picture of someone grabbing the thin layer of fat on their hips. it was an ad for diet pills. the ad made me sick. it was in one of those "beautiful people" magazines. you know, one with pictures of model humans - smiling thin movie stars! clearly such magazines are designed to make people feel bad about themselves and feel the need to lose weight, get plastic surgery or get "fashionable" clothing. disgusting! the ad even stated that the reader "probably feels pretty good about themself," as though they shouldn't! bah!

i'm not trying to lose weight, though. i just enjoy giving things up. i find it inspirational and empowering.

this brings me to another topic - pathetic drug abuse rationalizations. i know somebody that regularly writes stories about excessive drug consumption and acting like an irresponsible idiot. and this individual claimed that people with no "vices" must have "empty lives." that is such bullshit! to me, that idea is nonsense. it doesn't add up. quitting drugs will make you more productive and feel a lot better! there's no need for hangovers or "coming down." it warps your emotions too much!

i guess i sound like a real good boy scout here. but it had to be said.

i still have problems, like anybody else. i don't want to write about them, though! ha ho!

work is very easy right now, and i'm comfortable living in this apartment complex. i've come a long way. must pay the bills, though! i suppose i won't be able to save much more money. maybe i'll get a second job. i certainly have enough free time!

i saw the butthole surfers in concert for the second time last week. those old punks know how to entertain! it was the first show of this year's tour, which was exciting. the show started with "something" which really got things off to a great start. there were three video projectors showing different strange and disgusting films all lined up next to each other. standing behind the projectors i noticed a guy was fooling around with video effects live, which added another welcome element of chaos to the show. paul leary, the guitarist, was striking "guitar hero" poses and completely tearing it up! paul leary is such an integral part of the butthole surfers that i can't believe the band considered replacing him for their european tour last year. when the band came back for an encore, gibby haynes said something like, "i can't believe you people like this shit." believe it, gibby! at the end of the show the fog machines started up, but the venue was too big for the fog to completely obscure the stage. another great show from the pride of texas! the opening act was great too, but i don't know their name! they had a very attractive woman playing the bass and strange abstract video projection. some idiot kept whistling really loudly at the lady bass player, which really annoyed me. i didn't know people actually did that. the band was really psychedelic and loud! they reminded me of swans, in a way. not nearly as mean though. they looked like hippies!

that's all i can think of right now. i think i'll try writing a short story soon. look for it!

Tue, 15 Sep 2009 20:35:41 GMT

i don't like antihistamines.

i DO like hawaiian punch.

decomposing zebra carcass

Fri, 04 Sep 2009 21:36:30 GMT

it's time for some discipline.

in every way.

let's live a more austere lifestyle. let's get rigid. let's proclaim the virtue. let's harvest those tomatoes.

i'm a vile vegetable, vibrating violently on the veranda. i'm not the product of propaganda. i'm ghandi's aunt and a hysterical power plant crossbred with purple dalmatians and chihuahuas with rubik's cubes for heads. i'm plagiarizing scripture and fucking up the prescriptions. doubling the dosage and removing the corsets. i'm applying gauze to the wound. i'm getting in the mood to move.

dry-drunk down-home vigilant aptitude test. messy carousel rotates while you leer as i undress. this is only a test. it's a test of the bone-yard and systematic decline. it's about regulations. it's about pine cones and stroking poop logs like kittens. it's about pretending. this is imagination in action. it is the power of the mind. the mind's eye will see, understand, and control your thoughts and actions. you are not your thoughts, though. you are like a sausage dangling from the ceiling with nothing to do. connected to a synthesizer you're like a miser. you writhe and breathe plaster while i rise higher and higher. into the troposphere i download terrabytes of unwanted information. a dog's code, a wrinkled scone, a perverse permanent abode. licking the bowl. grabbing the throat of the troll. how droll.

uvulas have promise, but when does it all add up? filling open mouths with gravel and having a few yuks? running over toads with your car and having no remorse? burying toads in the dirt and running over them with a tiller? nailing them to a board? these are bad ideas, but they're out there in the minds of madmen. bad boys, the unclean, insane meaty automatons we call the dysfunctional youth of the nation. they have no souls! they only supply us with galvanized poles! with these poles we build things. we surround structures with them, for protection. it's a sad state of affairs. it's a current affair.

too much sleep is strange. it's like getting handed the reigns. it's deranged. sociopathic rapid fire mathematics. we are not insane, we are children of god. what about truth? you're very odd. you're in a coma at the synagogue. wake me up when september ends. you better not lay a finger on my butterfinger.

$$$

Wed, 02 Sep 2009 16:40:46 GMT

i just payed the past month's rent and electric bill for the first time in my life. i'm finally pulling my own weight. although losing my precious money hurts, it feels good at the same time to be a productive and independent member of society!

a momentous occasion!

i really like white zombie. i think this music has aged well. it is my celebration music. good day!

Sat, 29 Aug 2009 20:32:48 GMT

my eyes hurt. too much youtube! well, i'm gonna sleep. peace.

beard avast, poindexter! fauntleroy!

Fri, 21 Aug 2009 17:50:43 GMT

okay, so i see it now. okay, it's a vast conundrum, eclipsed by melting seals and springy eels. eels coiled and hopping like springs near the spring, i hope they don't get wet because i sincerely don't want to see their interpretation of "rusting."

nesting. here in vermont, the autumn trees suffocate in the dry breeze with ease. i will sketch this scene on my easel, is that the word i'm looking for? word 54, where are you? i don't want to be a dull reminder of our shared past, i want to get past that and i want to climb the mast. into the crow's nest i will see the horizon best. i am keeping my keen eye on the situation. the outcome is rothko. domino effect, like a butterfly, flying into black hole sun oblivion. rendezvous then i'm through with you! ha ha hands, laughing effervescently in the moonlight while a flock of bats flies overhead like a gust carrying dead leaves! i'm leaving you, bill! and i'm taking the maggots with me. i'm laughing all the way to the sperm bank.

it made sense in the beginning. in the beginning, dog destroyed the earth and the seas. he did what he pleased. dog drank water from the toilet bowl, even though it was blue. dog don't care!

literary wallpaper. do to them what they did to you. use smaller words. easy to digest, reader? this putrescent rotting heap of mangled meat gives me indigestion. what's the prescription? more vandalism? more trespassing? more, more, more!

i will forgive those whose property i have trespassed on as i trespass on others' property. tressalicious! why don't you take a picture, it lasts longer!

reveling in immaturity like a doped up pig in a slopped up ditch! i will dig that ditch, i will do what i please. i am democracy's knees!

this is a new phase! i'm exclaiming things! written poorly, poor motor control, some unknown disorder! i'll disorder you! this whole court room is out of order! they ought to put a sign up there!

i win, again. i will always win. i don't know why you keep trying to beat me. it's impossible, kim! go back to your little superflash cartoons and run back home to mama! i say we stay here and fight it out.

you're elegantly subtracting the infusion i so desperately needed in my hour of paralyzing shame. in the park it was right, not this new curious blight. this uncommonly ravenous outcome, this perpetually unfounded disproportionate misfortune circling the skulls of magnificent carved megalith idols!

good day to you, my haphazard children! you are winners to me and i have seen the other side of the pink sea, and it is good.

Fri, 14 Aug 2009 20:56:45 GMT

i'm worried that i may be a hypochondriac!

broken manchildren scuffling around like so many dustmites in the dark

Thu, 30 Jul 2009 20:43:30 GMT

this aristocracy shall surely plummet into the fabled hallowed halls of hell should the ditch-digging highlanders get wind of the situation. the brutality will unfold and bloodshed will be tenfold. over and over remorseless persecution execution... such and such, blood running in the streets etcetera i will envelope hell and grip my red trident screaming at the top of my lungs at the bottom of my freshly dug grave.

hell's grim command over my constitution. bloody ruin, skeletal pig-dog bodies bleeding in the streets, bleeding beneath the blood-red glow of the red giant sun. the aching sky collapsing stars plummeting into the ocean, the satanic majesty of nature's revenge.

a hellish sinful protrusion, baked beneath tumescent layers of hot mud. skeletal scaffolding, they're all laughing, all the way to the bank, trashing the oasis with a tank, their buns i will spank, it always comes back to spanking, i just hit my growth spurt i'm a growing boy, i'm not your toy!

the capitalism of flesh. building blocks of blood and bone taking it all back home, honing my childish craft, absorbing blood soaked documents of damnation, wasting away in the nation

i will record your death sentence with a twitching bloody eye. i will storm out of this room and cry. i will take hold of a knife's handle. i will slaughter dante and randal. i'll ransack the tomb of george w. bush. i will grab a stranger's tush. i will laugh like a dog with power. i will lose my confidence and cower. i will stoop, praying to my glowing rectangle and glower. i am having a power hour. the power drains out of my fingertips and enrages imaginary twits. in hell, they flick the nips of their tits, tatas jiggling demons giggling, giggle reflex is now, true power and how! what the fuck is so funny about sex, what is so enticing about death?

i'm not a one dimensional character painted in black and white. i am sworn in and i'm anything but right. i'm so far left i'm off the edge of this flat planet. aren't you ashamed to be in your underclothes, janet? dr. scott should scold you and that's saying a lot. it bores me to the point of lazing on my cot. cheek resting on fist that's a bedtime story. i hope this tale doesn't get too gory. i'm bored to tears i don't like the rhymes. i'm sick of my fears, i want to commit crimes!

writing this is like some kind of perverse release
like the devil asking me to sign a lease
a home in hell, well why not?
it should go down swell, because i'm a fun-loving tot
i'm not a potato but i run the show
not just in the country but in the snow
flakes like me are beautiful and unique
i'm dumbfounded and cannot speak

the rise of scatterbrained misanthropy and quivering high heeled pantywaists! get the lead out, or go home back to mama!

the last word: disco.

poetry express, sexual funtime theater

Sat, 25 Jul 2009 12:21:04 GMT

fjadf;skljfioewhgdfnkljaksdjklrER#$(RZSGKLSDHFXCI(

dfias;ijio3adfvkla@#E$
#*VGDFKH

there once was a man from nantucket
he kissed his sister and said "fuck it"
she slapped him hard
and kicked him out into the yard
where he made love to a bucket

there once was a man from dayton
his father said "you need to get paid, son!"
the son got paid well
for working in a living hell
and now he thinks he's satan!

once upon a time there was a twit
the twit was a blowhard and full of shit
he had big balls
he had pink walls
and a polka dotted snake-bite kit

razzafrazz!

i was going to write something funny and sexual, but i forgot it. i need to write these things down, like i used to.

i have a piece of cardboard with "ASS - handle with care - this side up" printed on it, on my wall.

oh! your ass! that's it!

what i'm going to do to your ass
by steven w. smythe

i'll stroke it and poke it
i'll slap it and kiss it
i'll play with it and piss on it
i'll cover it with a bonnet

manic music is my life force. i need to rock every once in a while. got it?

i'm doing good these days, i just need to take my b vitamins. i am finally moving out of this house! it's about fucking time! i'm excited.

that's all

k;gjeioagrjkldfhgfiasdjkfjkasdfjk

eioruweirouweiourwi

weoriu
fuioeaweghi

euireiwuoiajdkj

Fri, 24 Jul 2009 21:45:52 GMT

qwertyuiopasdfghjklzxcvbnm.

mnbvcxzlkjhgfdsapoiuytrewq.

asdfghjklzxcvbnmqwertyuiop.

lkjhgfdsamnbvcxzpoiuytrewq.

Sat, 11 Jul 2009 20:59:22 GMT

barnacle bob and his righteous crew of damned salty sea-dogs skipped along the shore singing folk songs at the top of their lungs, longingly. as they rounded the next bend, something was made very clear: their demise was near.

a floating anchor with googly eyes and a fearsome growl hovered five feet above the beach, menacing the crew of the gypsy falcon, barnacle bob's vessel.

"why have you come to this place?" the anchor asked.

"we are but salty sea-dogs, out for merriment and-"

but the anchor shot javelins out of it's eyes which quickly penetrated the chest, eyes, groin, and left shoulder of barnacle bob, extravagantly killing him. as his corpse thudded to the ground, the crew of the gypsy falcon gazed horror-struck upon the grim visage of their captain's slaughter.

"which one of you motherfuckers is next?" asked the anchor.

"i am!" replied salty sally, the first mate.

one hundred and thirty-six javelins were shot into her body.

"why did you do that?" queried bulbous billy.

he too was struck down, in his prime.

the remainder of the crew, dumbfounded, walked away.

"just walk away," said plundering paul quietly. "just ignore it."

this angered the anchor, but he was beginning to feel a bit like an ass.

"i shouldn't have killed those people," thought the anchor, furrowing it's brow. "what have i done?"

THE END

rock!

Tue, 07 Jul 2009 08:37:17 GMT

this is what i've been working on for the past two months in my spare time.

Fri, 03 Jul 2009 18:46:08 GMT

i don't want to say i'm superior because i stopped drinking... i was superior to begin with!

i'm working on the myspace page for my new music project, "permanent soul damage." i hope people like the music! it's a collaboration between me and my friend phil. we've been making music for several years now, but i think it's time to take it to the next level. we need fans!

i feel like such a hack and a fraud. do you ever get the feeling you've been cheated?

that's just part of being in the "music business!"

artist, playboy, bon-vivant

Sun, 21 Jun 2009 18:29:31 GMT

all i wanna do is eat, sleep, work, read, and ride my bike.

my father broke the seat on my bike. it was an accident. but he helped fix the other bike, so i rode that one instead.

re-read galapagos. what a good book!

i think i like the vitamin b-12.

i should be writing songs. i'll do that tomorrow when i have "band practice" with phil.

i'm over caffeine again. wow, i'm writing about my life! holy crap!

so many habits to kick. what's next? hamburgers? is that going too far?

i'll waste away without the nutrients that junk food provides!

i need to fix a few things wrong with my new car. after that, i'm outta here!

poetry time:

a salacious rat brought porridge to a melancholy toad
they were both 'sploded by a car on the road
a child saw this and laughed, which made me frown
they call me the candy colored clown

happy nightmares! oh, that reminds me- i had a dream that i was in hell and jon arbuckle was there complaining about something. he was in a room that closely resembled a panel from the garfield comic. what was he complaining about? i can't remember. i can't re-light that burnt out ember.

okay, that's enough. it looks like a lot of words because i put spaces between the sentences. good day!

success!

Sun, 14 Jun 2009 13:38:36 GMT

successful individuals persevere
they keep their desires clear
these driven people will persist
by now i guess you get the gist

i don't have to pull the pincushion out of the garden if i don't want to! my will is written in stone! i will not chew a bone! i'll cut through soft lengths of fabric with scissors and i'll harass waylon smithers!

pressed for time these days, behave - meet the press, shave! brave the warm waters don't swim too deep the undertow will suck you into the reef! the tropical coral will cut you to ribbons, it's sharp like a shark finning and gutting you to the point of disintegration. you will be re-integrated with the natural order of things. molecular, cellular, universal. law permits this. digested before you could comprehend the moment of evisceration! you think it criminal when it's the way of the nation!

bathe in shaving cream, see what i mean? like a trouser trout doing his oven cleaning in spring, bring the pain or ride rough, don't inhale. that snooty snail can't be as mean as me. i'm endorsed by the vatican and i can and will think things into existence at the drop of the pope's hat, rattamatat! like doing laundry without all the pains the stains he or she complains breaking free from the reigns! god, this music is fucked up!

what a trip, in paris! i tripped her. i meant every word! from here to salisbury! the youth of the nation complain too much! i'm horrified and flabbergasted, i'm aghast. i'm gripping the mast. she is the most disgusting display of swirled sanity in my pantry dropping her panties and giving me that disturbing cross-eyed stare i fall backwards down the stairs and my cares are being thrown away. i'm frothing now, all the senators are at bay, i will throw you in the bay, i will get my pay.

jesus!

okay.

buddha! metropolis!

uncouth! reprimand me for my altercation, permit the youth to spoil my occasion!

slippery slide away against the tide, the prince of persia will wince when he's heard of this!

i am wrapped in seaweed and doves are perched on my shoulders, ready to obey. it's a beautiful morning. the sky is violet on this beach. my complex destiny is within my reach!