Friday, November 30, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Double Barrel on Anger
If anger were a woman. I'd fuck'er. Nice fuck, not the dirty fuck. Funky fuck.
However, with an attitude like that, anal would expectedly be open for consideration, but that seems to be the standard of the funky fuck at times. Again, not the dirty fuck. The nice fuck. Funky fuck is fun fucking.
I feel like I'm fucking forthwith.
- What she look like?
Right now? Disappointed, but playing it off like she's thinking of what she needs from the grocery store.
However, with an attitude like that, anal would expectedly be open for consideration, but that seems to be the standard of the funky fuck at times. Again, not the dirty fuck. The nice fuck. Funky fuck is fun fucking.
I feel like I'm fucking forthwith.
- What she look like? Right now? Disappointed, but playing it off like she's thinking of what she needs from the grocery store.
Aniimals
I love sharks and snakes. Alligators and crocodiles too. I respect what they can do and how they are made. I respect reptiles.
And sharks. Bull Shark's a bitch. Hammerheads are just weirdly awesome.
Dolphins are fun.
And sharks. Bull Shark's a bitch. Hammerheads are just weirdly awesome.
Dolphins are fun.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Angry Good
Watching tv. AAAHH!
I know.
Anywhichaway - the Diet Dr. Pepper commercial comes on, and their ending slogan is "THERE'S NOTHING DIET ABOUT IT."
How literal does this ad team want the public to take this. As I'm writing this I'm also thinking about possibilities for its content, and it's smart. They want all kinds of feedback, various tastes of thought to go with their advertised flavor. They believe in the negative publicity. And omniscients fucking omniscients it fucking works.
But Diet Dr. Pepper does suck. No. No. Don't even try. I don't wanna hear it. It sucks. It's what cement would taste like mixed with sugar-filled berries.
Go away.
I know.
Anywhichaway - the Diet Dr. Pepper commercial comes on, and their ending slogan is "THERE'S NOTHING DIET ABOUT IT."
How literal does this ad team want the public to take this. As I'm writing this I'm also thinking about possibilities for its content, and it's smart. They want all kinds of feedback, various tastes of thought to go with their advertised flavor. They believe in the negative publicity. And omniscients fucking omniscients it fucking works.
But Diet Dr. Pepper does suck. No. No. Don't even try. I don't wanna hear it. It sucks. It's what cement would taste like mixed with sugar-filled berries.
Go away.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Where You Want to Be
There is this song sung by someone. It is the song that I will dedicate to my forever. The song is about those quiet moments, the ones in between the happiness and tension; the ones that hold everything together.
I give it to one, or never; to none.
I give it to one, or never; to none.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Double Barrel on Kids
I'm great with babies and toddlers. But once the kid learns how to effectively communicate through thought and speech, I just wanna punch'em in the throat.
The Thanksgiving Disease Day Address.
Let us not forget the true meaning of Thanksgiving. Find a quiet,painful terminal disease and pass it to your neighbor. Once they are dead, take their property, move into their home, and abuse their resources.
Have a good one.
Have a good one.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
This Message Will Self Destruct
Upset with someone. The immediate, primal anger is out of the way. Now it's the "I would love to punch this person, but I'll settle for hanging this over his/her head for the rest of his/her life" kind of anger, and not the kind that consumes me either. I sleep well when I do sleep. Not really, but you get what I'm saying.
I'm a huge adherent to self destructive behavior, but this person's just trying to steal my thunder on the matter.
"I'll get you, Gadget. Next time."
I'm a huge adherent to self destructive behavior, but this person's just trying to steal my thunder on the matter.
"I'll get you, Gadget. Next time."
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Piss
Internet, I have not missed you.
Had a splendid night. Debauchery was high as the range was open. A comfortable amount of maneuvering room, sounding much like the idiot that I choose to be when all I have to do is say the right thing. But I rarely want to say the right thing because you know it would never be substantial. Some positives, yes, but there's nothing better than the true surge forward. Forward in mind and heart. The soul needs to figure shit out for itself. If a dinosaur can't have one, why can I? If my doggies aren't supposed to have one, in some people's eyes, then I'd rather not have one either. I will find my dogs when we all eventually reunite in the afterlife. And we will still piss on anything and everything. When it's raining, don't be surprised if there are some surprisingly warm odorous patches of wet falling sky around you.
Had a splendid night. Debauchery was high as the range was open. A comfortable amount of maneuvering room, sounding much like the idiot that I choose to be when all I have to do is say the right thing. But I rarely want to say the right thing because you know it would never be substantial. Some positives, yes, but there's nothing better than the true surge forward. Forward in mind and heart. The soul needs to figure shit out for itself. If a dinosaur can't have one, why can I? If my doggies aren't supposed to have one, in some people's eyes, then I'd rather not have one either. I will find my dogs when we all eventually reunite in the afterlife. And we will still piss on anything and everything. When it's raining, don't be surprised if there are some surprisingly warm odorous patches of wet falling sky around you.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
My Kind of Luck
I know.
I just fucking know - - that the world will erupt, be it with a disease; somebody pushes some buttons and shit gets launched, SOMETHING. But the world will proceed to end the day I qualify for my master's degree.
The world won't even make it to me receiving the certificate. The info will work its way through the computer, my stuff goes through - apocalyptic outbreak.
Like I'm not angry enough, I need to create things to be pissed about.
I just fucking know - - that the world will erupt, be it with a disease; somebody pushes some buttons and shit gets launched, SOMETHING. But the world will proceed to end the day I qualify for my master's degree.
The world won't even make it to me receiving the certificate. The info will work its way through the computer, my stuff goes through - apocalyptic outbreak.
Like I'm not angry enough, I need to create things to be pissed about.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
"The Best Friends Stab You in the Front"
To my best friend:
Should I ever happen to have sex with any of your exes - Sorry. Shit happens.
But we can consider it as kharma doing its thing. You are my best friend, but you do annoy me from time to time.
Should I ever happen to have sex with any of your exes - Sorry. Shit happens.
But we can consider it as kharma doing its thing. You are my best friend, but you do annoy me from time to time.
Friday, November 09, 2007
Rushing Through Innocence
Sheila pounded the flickering, multi-colored touch platform. At first she tried following the colors, but DaDa came around to coach her.
"Say it, Sheila," DaDa requested. He repeated the words uttered from the low-level amps in the machine. "The dog tastes like the cow."
At ten months old, Sheila was talking with DaDa and the machine.
MaMa heard the verbal choir. She focussed an unnerving glance towards DaDa, which he immediately noticed. He returned MaMa's tensious gaze with a battle-ready one of his own. He told Sheila to keep up with the machine, then, kissed the back of her head, smelling that baby daughter smell, with a hint of lilac from the baby shampoo MaMa chose.
He met MaMa at the counter.
"What?" he asked with an empty tone.
MaMa thought she was ready for this, but the daring stare was just the foot in the door, but now that she had DaDa's attention it was time to follow through. She gathered her courage.
"This needs to stop," she stated.
"What?"
"This," harkening to Sheila and the speaking toy. "You - You making a science experiment out of your daughter." MaMa's voice was full of tone - tone in the key of urgent.
DaDa was stunned, but kept calm. "What are you talking about? Let me in on what level of zany I'm supposed to be flourishing in, because you're a few notches above mine."
"Why can't you just let her be a child?" Mama retaliated. "Let her discover things normally, the way children are supposed to? Why are you rushing her into things."
DaDa was unflinchable, though he required a deep breath before continuing. "I'm at a loss," he said. "All I am doing is playing with our daughter. Doing the same things that my family did with me when I was her age. I am unfamiliar with these 'science experiments' you are alluding to. I'm just a father playing with his daughter.
"Please - - where is this coming from?"
"Say it, Sheila," DaDa requested. He repeated the words uttered from the low-level amps in the machine. "The dog tastes like the cow."
At ten months old, Sheila was talking with DaDa and the machine.
MaMa heard the verbal choir. She focussed an unnerving glance towards DaDa, which he immediately noticed. He returned MaMa's tensious gaze with a battle-ready one of his own. He told Sheila to keep up with the machine, then, kissed the back of her head, smelling that baby daughter smell, with a hint of lilac from the baby shampoo MaMa chose.
He met MaMa at the counter.
"What?" he asked with an empty tone.
MaMa thought she was ready for this, but the daring stare was just the foot in the door, but now that she had DaDa's attention it was time to follow through. She gathered her courage.
"This needs to stop," she stated.
"What?"
"This," harkening to Sheila and the speaking toy. "You - You making a science experiment out of your daughter." MaMa's voice was full of tone - tone in the key of urgent.
DaDa was stunned, but kept calm. "What are you talking about? Let me in on what level of zany I'm supposed to be flourishing in, because you're a few notches above mine."
"Why can't you just let her be a child?" Mama retaliated. "Let her discover things normally, the way children are supposed to? Why are you rushing her into things."
DaDa was unflinchable, though he required a deep breath before continuing. "I'm at a loss," he said. "All I am doing is playing with our daughter. Doing the same things that my family did with me when I was her age. I am unfamiliar with these 'science experiments' you are alluding to. I'm just a father playing with his daughter.
"Please - - where is this coming from?"
Sunday, November 04, 2007
Drained
The hairs did not do well. They're momentary duty was to show Chris that he was growing old. It wasn't working, and for whatever reason, reality agreed with him. He looked the younger one, inhaled the excitement that a younger one should, but business was never so far away from his thoughts - no.
The future dead should not be surprised. Most died with a masked blank expression. They just shouldn't have been surprised.
We could make masks out of their corpsed expressions. Infiltrating their facilities became an act of will.
....All of this because I saw hair strands in the sink today.
The future dead should not be surprised. Most died with a masked blank expression. They just shouldn't have been surprised.
We could make masks out of their corpsed expressions. Infiltrating their facilities became an act of will.
....All of this because I saw hair strands in the sink today.
You Weren't There
I don't miss being surprised. Rarely did I care whether I knew ahead of time, but there are moments, more for entertainment than any pursuit of the tangible, but tangibility in this day and age was strictly, as beauty some say, "in the eye of the beholder."
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