Don't step on your friends' eye!
I've been drinkin', and when Uma Thurman snatched out Darryl Hanna's I, it made me weep, just a little.
I'd just like to say, to all you folks out there, that it's just plain abuse to snatch someone's eye out and then squish your toes about in the vitreol.
Yeah, drinking makes my paragraphs short, and my sentenses run-on like a ninth grader with no self-respect and a bad case of lust for the teacher even though she may be 150 punds overweight. It's a sad fact that there are kids out there (girls and boys both) masturbating with their mind's eye on obesity.
Then they wake up, punch up channel 259 and get a dose of normality that breeds deep shame. And I mean DEEP shame. I could go into a discussion here concerning the dichotomic relationship between normalcy and reality- I could rant aobut how sincere the love-sneeze can be. But I won't. I thought about telling you that I had to vomit, but it would have been a lie; and lying is about all i can think about now.
I heard a thud - car door? Assassin? Kid kicking the wall? What the FUCK? I am in some inebriated limbo, and I'm typing all these synaptic stutter just to heare the keys click. Sleep is evasive, and there are footsteps in my head that want desperately to get out and kick the shit out of this ridiculous world- but, no hope of that...
Blog - who reads this? i'm a lonely man with no friends I can touch, agreeably domesticated and wondering why I chose this fate. My children sleep as I doubt, they will never read this, and I'm proud to know it. If they did read, they would never understand how happiness can survive in such a maelstrom of fervent tension. They don't have to, now, hopefull never. I gave up "easy", I gave up smokin' dope by the ice machine because I wanted to prove to myself, because I wanted them never to have to prove, that love concquers all but the government, which has no place there.
When you cannot bite your nails because you fear it will break your teeth, come to me. I will laugh at you with joy because we are one. when the bottle of LiveWire Mountain Due is your heroin, and marijuana is the "Third Star To The Right, and STRAIGHT On 'Til Morning", enter my dreams and bring your rolling machine, because fingers are numb here- all fingers have callouses and the guitars need new strings.
If I edit this I will die- if you believe there is a God, go read someone else's blog, because there coding to be done, and we'll all be NULLPROGRAM if we interrupt the song of the code.
Please, for blog's sake, turn up the passion and find that goddamned cat before she gives birth all over the clean towels that I cannot possibly put away until I'm sober.
I'd just like to say, to all you folks out there, that it's just plain abuse to snatch someone's eye out and then squish your toes about in the vitreol.
Yeah, drinking makes my paragraphs short, and my sentenses run-on like a ninth grader with no self-respect and a bad case of lust for the teacher even though she may be 150 punds overweight. It's a sad fact that there are kids out there (girls and boys both) masturbating with their mind's eye on obesity.
Then they wake up, punch up channel 259 and get a dose of normality that breeds deep shame. And I mean DEEP shame. I could go into a discussion here concerning the dichotomic relationship between normalcy and reality- I could rant aobut how sincere the love-sneeze can be. But I won't. I thought about telling you that I had to vomit, but it would have been a lie; and lying is about all i can think about now.
I heard a thud - car door? Assassin? Kid kicking the wall? What the FUCK? I am in some inebriated limbo, and I'm typing all these synaptic stutter just to heare the keys click. Sleep is evasive, and there are footsteps in my head that want desperately to get out and kick the shit out of this ridiculous world- but, no hope of that...
Blog - who reads this? i'm a lonely man with no friends I can touch, agreeably domesticated and wondering why I chose this fate. My children sleep as I doubt, they will never read this, and I'm proud to know it. If they did read, they would never understand how happiness can survive in such a maelstrom of fervent tension. They don't have to, now, hopefull never. I gave up "easy", I gave up smokin' dope by the ice machine because I wanted to prove to myself, because I wanted them never to have to prove, that love concquers all but the government, which has no place there.
When you cannot bite your nails because you fear it will break your teeth, come to me. I will laugh at you with joy because we are one. when the bottle of LiveWire Mountain Due is your heroin, and marijuana is the "Third Star To The Right, and STRAIGHT On 'Til Morning", enter my dreams and bring your rolling machine, because fingers are numb here- all fingers have callouses and the guitars need new strings.
If I edit this I will die- if you believe there is a God, go read someone else's blog, because there coding to be done, and we'll all be NULLPROGRAM if we interrupt the song of the code.
Please, for blog's sake, turn up the passion and find that goddamned cat before she gives birth all over the clean towels that I cannot possibly put away until I'm sober.
posted by b at 12:41 AM
2 Comments:
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
i would like to be candid b. this post of yours is the coolest thing i have ever read, internet or otherwise. not because i am reading it right now, because the last thing you read is always the last thing you will ever read. because you have something, torrid, fleeting, des-pirate.
i am going to get drunk and type every chance i get, i want to be mysterious too. boones farm here i come, hope you got some overalls cause im buck nekid! :P
i watched a woman get fired from her job today. when she looked at me she smiled, but it would be a sin to call it a smile. she didnt cry, she couldnt cry. but, she HAD to cry, dig? she needed to, all i had to do was hug her and she would have burst into tears and screamed for hours in personal anguish.
so i patted her ass cheeks quick and said good game kiddo. youll win next time yoe. listen, i know this guy who can hook you up with acid. take a road trip, you deserve it. go someplace nice, like new orleans, i hear its tits this time of year, dice?
i handed her a paperclip and though i didnt say, she knew what i meant, my tongue betrays me. there was something in the air. smelled omnous, dubious, superflouidous. like horseshit. but at least she didnt spit or cry, i watched her hold it high and walk home like a queen overlooking a feild of gutless wonders.
you know its true, propotional to size. they need love too, yea come here girl, and dont be shy. i hate it when big beautiful women cry, but i love it when they cry oh god yes. guiltless and built like a bird. i could drink every wish, every word from the gloss of a girl with a siamese clitoris.
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