2004-06-28 - 12:30 a.m.
here's something from the past:
i hope i [edited].
remember when being seared used to be a good thing.. you would just sort of hold still.. you'd prolly hold onto something in a white knuckle grip because it would prolly hurt a lot.. but you ..and then u take the wallet in your mouth and bite down on it real hard so u don't split your teeth when they put the white part on your skin..
and then u just sorta get in that comfortable bunny position..and they take one of your arms and strap it tight to something vertical and metal and yank-resistant.. and then they put their foot on your head and push it forcibly to the other side so u can't see your body...and u count down..or up in your head.. 1....2....3...4...5....66666666....and your mouth launches at that wallet, putting molar prints and spit all over it...
and they lay that flat white part across the lower part of your spine.. and u viciously suck in any nearby gamma radiation, hoping that you will turn into the Incredible Hulk and start breaking things apart...but the only thing turning is your chopped-worm back trying to unglue itself from the sticky white metal.. and the more you twist, the more u can feel it melt deeper into ..and thankfully you have a spine to stop it from going any further..and unthankfully your spine wasn't designed for 2000 degree + temperatures..and u squirm and wiggle w/the violence of a fresh seizure..and your eyes are quiet and limp.. you should be careful cuz if your sockets relax anymore, they could lose their hold on your eyeballs..
and... your senses start playing musical chairs, trading signals from your back.. to your hand... to your legs...to your hand... oh yeah ... your hand.. now u remember that it's the only one tied to the pole in the ground..and the smoke coming off your back is competing for that burnt hair distraction... you're a little exhausted to be yanking at a 3 inch diameter bar of disinterest.. so cut it out..
lay there quietly...and worn out.. now do u need more convincing that freezing to death is better than burning to life..?
it's a good thing u didn't have that extra box of 10% apple juice liquid lunch finisher, cuz a warm puddle of pee wouldn't really add much significance to the other fluids collecting from your body in shallow pools of tangerine.. *deep breath*..
it's all over, baby.. you're just in shock... you'll be a little incapacitated for about...7.. 8 weeks..i'm not sure how long it takes for moving marrow to unfuck itself.. but on tv, they usually say 2 weeks..
don't ever fucking comb your hair w/that brush on the sink again.. if it's not yours, don't FUCKING TOUCH IT BITCH.
(i may not be as forgiving next time)
stupidass.
clappy happy huggy homogeneousization.... watch a girl brave domestic violence and refuel yourself with closure.. strength.. freshness.. and diet life-- one-third the ovaries, same great headache...come to the grocery store with me..and pick out a bright-eyed bushy-tailed epiphany..i'm sure we'll find something for the holidays that won't rust away ..my smile is rigged with C4 and last night's ritual condensation-- drops so lazy and eventless, a security guard putting in overtime as rain, and getting paid in bored stares wouldn't mind being resented on the lefthand side of conversation ...that takes place down South ..where people seldom take place..
i like u kid...here's a penny... go out and get me a thought that can walk a straight line without tipping over...
everything always happens facing to the right.. in dreams ..in pictures... in fucking..everything.. what's over on the left?
you want a war.. u want a motherfucking war?
fucking cocksucking crashing computer.. my fucking computer.. it fucking has that sedated opium look on its fucking face..u know.. this fucking computer fucking beats off like a fucking school boy all day long..no wonder it can't fucking function without shutting off like a pot haze..forget about the computer..let's talk about deafness.
she looks like a 2 syllable name.. tera..laura... yeah... i just had a good beatoff to a picture of a girl that looked like a laura.. and now i have cum vision... you know ...well now u fucking know less since that entry isn't around to help w/your education...
when a guy shoots his load, he goes into a payote trance where he starts seeing spirit animals and Kleenex tissues ghosts drifting through his consciousness..it is then at that time..where you may ask this sojourner any question u wish...
...and he will answer you... in any way that he wishes... until his penis reattaches itself..and he can no longer commune with the
living...
i wasted a good portion of my trance talking it away..:
Supernigger: how are you with face-sitting?
Girl: what do u mean?
[editor's note: how come fucking bitches can read the entire encyclopedia britannica into your "hello" but when it comes to a daunting face-sitting quiz, suddenly they fucking can't speak english..]
...i was going to write about the deaf... but the deaf are not so different than the hearing.
what more is there to say about the deaf. they're deaf.
i was going to write about a writer..but ... i forgot what to write..
when u write, you are a writer..and when u stop writing, you have some work in front of you... but u do not have a writer.. u have a snowflake at best and a fingerprint at worst...
writers always leave footprints.. this is why bitches make the worst criminals.."yewDONKNOWWWWmeh" ...yeah bitch.. you've only been sprinkling bread crumbs all over the fucking place.. this crime scene has 'IGNANT BITCH' written all over it...
you can't be a successful criminal until you understand the inevitable dynamics of how a trail is formed... your signature materializes over time.. it's not so much what u say as how u say it.. and how you say it puts motive into why you say it..
writing is not a disconnected activity although it may seem like it..
writing involves choice..and anytime choices are made, motives always follow in pursuit... dead meat brings vultures.. wounded words make the best prey ...
the words can be destroyed.. as i have found out now and again.. but u cannot destroy the writer through his words.. you can only cause him nakedness for a time.... until he is either too ashamed to go on or too cold to stay put...
he will clothe himself in new words once again.. and they will fit him more easily than the last pair..
when u lose a mama, u gain a respect for death...
when u lose a word, u gain a respect for life..
nothing about my words is immortal...but often fatal... they are my troubled sons.. and they will live devoured lives...and live far from me.. and if you forget me, i won't hold it against you...
i was a troubled son too.
don't let your feelings run your life... try and let your will have a say every now and then..
some people fight against it...and some people just give in..but one way or another, the empty spot you dwell on when there's few sounds and nothing else to distract you, always wins...
you know why it's so hard to help people.. because it's easy to tell people what they shouldn't do... but very few people can tell you want TO do.. that is the failure of AA.. the failure of self-help tapes.. the failure of psychologists.. the failure of teachers..the failure of philosophers.. the failure of doctors.. the failure of fathers... the failure of friends...
at best, they can only put bandaids over the symptoms.. but who is qualified to touch that little spot..that little source of trouble and unrest....
i don't research many topics. i don't know much about anything.. i'm just good at process of elimination...
when i stop lying.. i'll let u know...maybe..
i wonder what these stupid fucking moronic stupid fucking retarded dumb fucking dumb bitch stupid cunts expect when they msg supernigger.. what the fuck do u want me to do stupid bitch?... entertain your fucking stupid moron ass?..shut the fuck up stupid cunt...go msg somebody with an X on either side of their nickname.. fucking stupid cunt..if u msg me, then u should provide all the information i ask for.. this is to maintain MY MOTHERFUCKING INTEREST IN TALKING TO YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE U FUCKING STUPID MORON BITCH.. WHAT THE FUCK DO I WANNA TALK TO SOME FUCKING GOOFY BITCH NAMED "GIRL MORISSSSY" FOR?.. I DON'T CARE IF U LIKE FAGGOT BANDS AND YOU'RE BROODING AND WEARING BLACK.. SHUT THE FUCK UP CUNT.. STUPID FUCKING CUNT.
so yeah..
i'm eating a chicken burrito wordlessly because that's the key word of the day.. wordless..
u know sometimes i talk to a bitch and she has like ..2 or 3 fucking broken brain cells that i can fix w/a minimal amount of patience..but sometimes a fucking cunt will not fucking shut up and she will fucking assault you w/a fucking mindless barrage of utter fucking babble.. what am i supposed to do?.. fucking stick my motherfucking finger in every hole in the motherfucking dike?.. sometimes u just need to hope the bitch ends up in a parachuting accident so u can rebuild her ..forget about making her arm and leg and hearing bionic..make her fucking tiny brain bionic ..
i've been feeling like a little dutchboy lately.. a helpless little scrap of man-girl...
if sucking my thumb would do anything for me, i'd hitchhike both of them into my mouth and curl up and disappear into warm midget-comfortable places ... i've always wanted to live in a big fucking oak tree..like a hobbit.. w/that old staircase made out of tree stuff.. i wish i could rip out the mess inside and build an oak tree cottage inside.. just a little fucking place.. i like to see every wall of the house at once..
.. i want to meet a girl who frowns upon the things that i enjoy or do.. that way i can fall in love with her, and need her and hate her and beat off to her.. and die away from her.. and wonder why the fuck i bother with porn.
i want to meet a girl who will fucking laff at me for thinking i could dare to talk to her.. so i can fucking knife her in the throat ... i think laughter should be a mutual activity.. "..baby, u do the best blood gargling sounds ever...i wub yew.."
i want to meet a friend who will awkwardly stare at me during prolonged pauses.. someone who will really confuse the joy of silence with the agony of arm-twisted approval.. so i can smile reflexively... and hate myself for having reflexes..
i want to meet a poem that drags on and on and on.. without release..until you get to the end... and you're released.
i want out... but staying in is just a reflex.
drugs aren't good or bad..they are just pieces of bottled, chemically cohesive dirt. dirt isn't "bad" until you eat it... afterall, you are dirt. literally.
i wish there was more motivation for getting laid.. i remember when getting laid was motivation enough...i don't even have the motivation to say "i'm sorry" because i'm not and i'd be lying if i said it..and lying to get laid only works before you get laid.. it doesn't work after you get laid.. it's like the serial killer killing for sport...he's not killing people, he's killing deer..
that's what makes them killable.. they lose their identity.
before u fucked them, they were just bitches who had something u wanted..and like most people that have something you want, they don't often know it, but they'll be damned if they'll give u anything in the meantime.. they are a human carrot hanging on a life-sized stick...
it's all fun & games until the carrot stops being an object of desire and starts becoming a human pinata..
then what?
then u have to fucking put the carrot back on the wall again.. in one piece... "i'm sorry" just doesn't seem like anything at that point..it just seems like an insult to the fucking dynamic of having a girl in the first place... having her...possessing her..
not dropping her...not breaking her..
and then again, what cunt would be so careful with anything she ever had?.. yeah exactly.. total fucking oblivion....
that's what makes it so confusing ..to try and reconcile her hurt with the hurt she causes.. u are the judge and jury..but there is no way to add up her crimes against your crimes all in the same breath..
they do not equal each other in severity, at times, it seems..but in principle, they equal each other. misery for misery. blow for blow. lie for lie.
conscience..the science of conning yourself into misery..
-----
... i was at blockbuster today...
i'll finish that thought later..
i want to tell you about my spending..
i end up paying a lot for things.. so i have no problem buying things...
i bought 2 pairs of shoes today... my closet is starting to look like Imelda Marcos's closet.. i rummaged thru some stuff to take to goodwill or throw out.. i'm betting on 'throw out'..but there's always a slim chance i might give something to someone.. i said slim..
and i bought a DVD player..
..i've been paying for things... and i've been buying things..
the things i pay for are usually not connected to the things i buy.. the things i pay for are usually intangible and payment usually occurs around midnight.. or 1 am.. or 2am...or 3am.. by 4am i'm too tired to pay..so i put my emptiness on layaway for tomorrow...
what do empty people do when they're not busy writing surreal poetry or churning out visual slop..
they buy words... a thought here, a lie there... a wish for escape to somebody.. from the extraordinaryly ordinary... a worry about the end and the beginning and the middle ... and where are you...and knowing little about what you are, why does it bother you so much to lose what little you have left of you....why would it fucking bother you to the point of cursing all you see, and refusing to close your eyes...
a suffering of being savior and problem and situation and conclusion and far and gone ...and all the time.. laying here, never having moved... you were written before your hand even woke...
the designated un..
.. unknown.. unarticulated.. unmeasured..you've put toys on the shelf that collected less dust... a drop among drops among drops among drops..
fall to the earth
splash
don't be melancholy.. don't brood.. don't sulk..don't stay dry and unkempt.. don't wallow..don't squirm and writhe.. don't sneer and clench..
build a better mouse trap.
...they just buy words...and hook them together like old boxcars..and send them on their merry way..
----
i buy a lot of fucking shoes... i want a shoe for each event in my life.. i want a walking shoe ..i want a basketball shoe.. a tennis shoe.. a rock climbing shoe.. shoes for work..shoes for going out.. shoes for dressing up...shoes for looking casual... shoes for looking like you're about to be casual but undecided ..shoes for looking unconcerned...shoes for being sexy..slippers for the jacuzzi and backyard... abused shoes for working on a friend's roof.. shoes for illusions...and shoes for loneliness..
there's only 2 shoes i don't have yet..:
shoes for falling in love... and shoes for death...
this is my most ambitious shoe year that i can remember..
i once thought a girl was stupid for having 70 pairs of shoes and buying more shoes each week... but if u have a reason for buying those shoes....
you know what...this explanation will just get gayer and gayer if i keep at it..
i have a lot of shoes.. .
...oh btw, i write... it's not what i "got" to do ..it's WHAT i do.. so if u derail me or distract me, there's really no need to apologize for it..
------
i guess u can't avoid drunk people.. drunk people inhabit friday. and friday is unavoidable.. on 2nd thought.. i don't realize when anybody is drunk unless they're sloppy... i'd never make a good police officer..
terry the heroin addict.. let's talk about terry...
terry was a guy who was a heroin addict..and one night he came to the beach and found god.. and then the next day..well this was one really long day... first i had to sleep next to him on a bed while i learned about withdraw symptoms which could include vomitting and convulsions.. so i'm not exactly in a sleepy mood, cuz i've never been sleeping next to a guy who could shake and vomit at any time.. so the night goes ok... oh yeah..then before that i think we went to some kinda AA meeting or something.. i thought they were only for drunkies but i guess u can go there if you just got of heroin... anyway, there's a lot of candles and darkness and.. it was not exactly a fun looking place.. i don't like mixing candles, shadows, and addiction..
here's a rule of thumb: if you're looking for answers to something, turn on the fucking light.. not only is it common sense, it's psychological sense..
so after the seance is over, we go back to this friend's house to sleep..and i draw the lucky sleep-tight-next-to-the-time-bomb straw... but like i said, it was ok.. and then the next morning we had to go to his place to get his stuff..
and when we went back, we told him to start over..so i made him throw away all his stuff in the dumpters.. i think there were pictures and paraphernalia and miscellaneous toe tags belonging to his now abandonded incompletion, lying around and looking disposable like bandaid paper.. the stuff around the bandaid that doesn't even stand a chance of being kept..marked for trash, marked for loss.. that's where all this stuff went-- in the back..into the dumpster.. (did i mention we had to break in ..i kinda forget the details.. because it wasn't my stuff being thrown away... but i guess throwing away a slice of life has to be memorable at some point.. here's the marker.. here lies Terry's stuff... good enough.)... so we couldn't find his monoxonol or something for detoxing off of heroin, cuz u can't just climb down off of a 110 story skyscraper using the fire escape.. u have to be slowly lowered down by an incredibly improbable pair of wings manufactured by Johnson & Johnson's sister company, Not & Likely... so that left the opium deal.. you see, opium is the next best detox remedy around...
yeah ...and see again, sometimes when u help Heroin Terry, u have to break the law a little bit.. u have to arrange for a dealer by calling him (the dealer) on a non-specific payphone..and then u have to roll up in your car and smile like u care how his mom is doing..and then quickly shift gears, shake palms with oragami-squared twenties, and get the supernigger out of there...
...and whatever you do, do NOT put your opium in the bathroom... because ants WILL steal it.. opium, i found out, is the size of bitch's brain.. ie. it's about the size of a smurf's rice grain.. u can barely fucking see the thing.. so i think he had 3 or 4 or 2..i forget..anyways, an ant stole one of them... at least that's the story i got..
little pebble of opium... looks just like a bread crumb or a birthday cake yumyum..what ant could resist taking that?..
if u have to buy opium for detoxing, make sure u keep it in a safe place away form ants..
well.. that was the first last and only day i've ever seen Heroin Terry.. the heroin preserved his body..he looked to be in his teens to 20s..but i think he was 30 something..not sure.. fucking heroin.. what a miracle drug..
throwing the old life away in the dumpster for a new one.. that's a curious trade that i won't find out about for a while... i hope.
sometimes i think about what might have happened to him..and eventually i forget about it completely...
Terry... that was a fucking great guy.. if u could've seen him, you would have loved him too. I really can't tell you what addicts look like, i can only tell you what people look like to me...
..being a comma in peoples' lives ..an inbetween friend... i am a comma in the hearts of many, i'm sure..
you know what i like to ask a bitch on the first date?..
what's her favorite position... or what's makes her think she has a shot with me?.. i really like to fuck up the beginning because i am a firm campaigner for second chances..
hold on.. i need to comment on these stupid fucking moronic cunts in the background.. now granted i'm a stupid fucking moronic cunt for having "extreme cunt dating" on in the background but i will wager my cunt against these fucking 2 stupid cunts any fucking cunt day of the week.. how can these 2 fucking morons even speak a word against a guy they dated.. they fucked picked him in the first place..what a bunch of fucking morons.. and then they give these fucking stupid bag-o-rock bitches cue cards for their fucking knock knock jokes..shut your fucking cunt u stupid fucking moron cunts...give me that fucking mircophone, bitch..i'll fucking battle u into the motherfucking ground... u asswhore.. i ..
oh fuck... i'm a goddamn genius!
i just fucking solved the fucking show.. you know how u have these 2 fucking yapping cunts on your shoulder like .. u remember that Happy Days..uh..no u don't.. let's make it more current..
u remember Animal House where the guy has to decide if he's gonna fuck this passed out bitch or not.. and he's got devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other...
that's what u fucking do... put me up against these 2 motherfucking morons..i'll fucking get you the rights to that womb in 5 fucking minutes.. i'll fucking reach across the screen and cuntslap those fucking stupid bitches into oblivion..
yeah.. that's my new dating show.. supernigger vs. the ex-cunts..
even if the guy has no shot w/the bitch , i'll fucking get him in there just off of sheer godless personality.. just sheer supernigger candy and treats...you see the problem is , these 3 fucking cunts are on the cunt frequency.. i'm the only known force in the universe that can counteract the cunt frequency.. i can bring their fucking WCNT radio station down its knees.. imagine 2 fucking mindless babbling cunts talking into another fucking mindless babbling cunt's ear while this same stupid cunt is trying to put choo-choo train thoughts back to back.. how the fuck is that miracle supposed to happen?... i'll fucking reach in that cunt's empty head and slap those other 2 stupid cunts away from her last 3 brain cells like Slapjack.. get off there, cunt *slaping hands*..finder's keepers..
ok so yeah.. when i'm fucking going out w/a bitch, i like to fucking abuse my first impression .. i like to fucking strangle it.... you're cunt is only as good as her 2nd and 3rd and 4th chance.. nobody likes a fucking minefield cunt.. you're too fucking stupid to be demanding any kind of maintenance work out of me...
if there's one thing a bitch is allergic to, it's humility... that's how u fucking test drive a cunt.. u fucking kick the tires and find out what's under the hood at the start.. don't waste your fucking time and money finding out the hard way...
