Congress

Serisouly, get a fucking life, get a fucking clue; get a fucking happy ending from the Korean stretch-goddess, capable of penetrating any slight opening on your person, your body, your physical shell.

But Congress - - FUCK. YOU.

I could care less about what Roger Clemens injected into his ass on what date.

As a fitness enthusiast I know who needs what for what, and I, like the greater nuber of the American public, could care less about what sad piece of metal-drip doesn't get to go inside a person's ass.

It's not your blood dying afar. It's not your livliehood being threatened. You have no idea what the "common" person feels, thinks, or endures every damn day. You don't know what America is anymore - - the REAL America.

I have no sympathy for any of you - in what is going to happen - and what is to become.

You are not survivalists. People like me are. We live to live. We breathe so we know we're still breathing, which let's us know we're still alive. And being alive means having choices.

That's where God and democracy fucked up. You let me have a mind of my own.

Working for A Living

I don't know how to have fun on the internet. Yet, when I feel like I am, people get scared.

Internet is the absolute best place for schizos and other multi-personality type.

People got stabbed in a theater in California. The newest trend has begun, yet, it's so far behind schedule.

Hurricane Gorilla Bitch

Sometimes I'm glad the wind still scares me.

I'm tired of humidity. Tired of banal excuses behiind lackluster progression.

I'm tired of people around me being a decade-plus behind the rest of the world. I do see its benefits, and the way this world is heading; the road the human race is forcing it to take for itself, I am afraid, but I am so excited.

I live in one of the best areas. But I hate it. So I'm just waiting - success or no man's land - whichever comes first.

Personally speaking, I'm rooting for no man's land.

'Bout fucking time.

Need To Move

And again, the questions strike like cards in Vegas. "Why don't you talk; why won't you talk; what aren't you talking?"

I'm the kind of person that likes to mash buttons sometimes, only because I want to see what happens. I like knowing that things are eventually going to be fucked, which is why I a cannot stagnate in economical relationships. I need to keep moving forward, but sometimes, and it's a bitch when it happens - - I go too far ahead; I go forward without understanding the now.

It is the attraction to the why; that is my chosen side-thorn. The whys and whats of the world.

Need to move forward. And it will kill me.

I Have No Idea What This Is

I cried tonight. I know I did. The pillow was wet, the flavor was salty. The cleaning was a bitch.

I knew we'd had a party. Where was the music coming from? I mean, did we havea dj or did Jareb offer up his mix?

And how the fuck would you know? You weren't there.

I Try

I try painting a picture,
But the colors refuse to shine.
Nothing but gray and black,
With some sparkles of white breaking through the plain.

I try composing a song.
The melody is pure,
The rhythm is tired,
But human emotions, so brittle and frail;
There will always be a will to hear it.

I try writing a story.
It always ends up with my own characters
Shooting me in the back of the head.
I never wanted them to hate me,
But I suppose the torment I put through
Would be enough to warrant anyone
Trying to kill their creator.

Tired in Deadsville

Haven't felt like posting lately. Not much to talk about. Everything is back in routine, and not a whole lot of progress made on any end other than spouting out new ideas. Well, new to me, probably a rehash or a rip off to others.

I don't have an interesting life and I don't want one. I like mine, though others do consider what I do, the different things; the writing, the training, the art - they find that interesting. I suppose if I would find selling toilest for a living interesting if I never knew anything about it.

The world is still fucked. America is still without a leader, and has been for abour four or five decades. Humanity is a shrill, and hopefully will find itself on the endangered species list one day.

Global warming isn't threatening anything except mankind. The planet, you know, planet Earth, the one that is supposedly in such danger - - it's going to be fine. It's the people that don't stand a chance. Well, a whole lot of people, several billions. Some will be okay, but the majority - deadsville. Suckers.

A Very Rough Blueprint For a Loose Idea

Back in the locker room, the wrestler walks, awaiting his match. He sees many characters in costume, a couple making out in the shadows, doesn’t know if it’s regular or mixed.

Walking, he greets everyone as he goes by. Wrestling is a family, you see these people nearly every day of your life. You have your friends and acquaintances; you have your business partners and inside guys. It is a world in itself. It is a true circus.

You are a successful independent promotion, successful for three years in a row, but have been around for decades, mixing, inheriting from previous promotions and shit.

You walk into the bathroom; you hear a rookie headliner doing blow in the bathroom stall. You ask him…

Wrestler: What are you doing, kid? Sounds like your having a hell of a party in there.

Kid: It’s cool.

Wrestler: I get it, Kid - but I don’t get it. Why would you wanna do that shit before the match? It doesn’t enhance anything except the burning flesh.

Kid: A bump for a bump.

Wrestler chuckles expecting Kid to be gone in a month, maybe less. Outside he sees the man he needs to see; the head of talent Johnny Hill.

JH: Ay, big guy, what’s going on?

W: Not much, man. Ay, Kid’s in there blowing snow, man.

JH: God damnit, Johnny hissed what sounded like both anger and relief simultaneously.
Well, he was losing tonight anyways. This’ll be his last match. He’s doing a pay per appearance anyway. Dumbass.

What else going on?

W: Nothing much, shaking his head. Just waitin. Already stretched out, hit the ropes. Just waitin for muh music.

JH: Alright alright. Good luck, have fun. Good what you told me bout Kid. We got enough problems round here, don’t need more a that shit. Good lookin out W.

W: Likewise.

Now what?

The Future is Fucked

You look at the world and expect someone to save you; expecting the government to postpone your burial amongst the garbage you called your life.

You had a little girl before you even learned how to read, and you were barely learning how to read shortly after you grew your first pubes. That little girl was better off without you. That little girl was better off the day you died.

Planets Still Drifting

Gina stared into this new stranger's eyes. They were familiar, yet now lifeless, but alive. A numb state. A sad one to Gina.

That thing has the power of life and death.

"Among other things," he spoke, telepathically.

Gina, unsuccessful in her own atempt at telepathy, humbly asked, "Like what?

"Things you don't wanna know about."

"And the boy?" Gina knew what used to be her friend Victor read her mind all the way through that, and was well aware that he was well aware that she first hoped he would wipe that "fucking, shit-licking grin off his handsomely retarded face."

"Alive, living and will live. Diamonds with Snow is imminent and inevitable. We thought the universe was pulling itself. Your moon moves half-an-ince away from Earth every year. Instead, Earth is simply on the tail end of an inverted implosion."

"And how is he supposed to stop this?" Gina didn't give a damn about powers now.

"He isn't. But he can."

Retired Teacher Reveals He Was Illiterate Until Age 48

"I can remember when I was 8 years old saying my prayers at night saying, 'please, God, tomorrow when it's my turn to read please let me read.' You just pretend that you are invisible and when the teacher says, 'Johnnie read,' you just wait the teacher out because you know the teacher has to go away at some point," said Corcoran.

The Power of the Pen

COPENHAGEN, Denmark (AP) - Danish authorities on Tuesday arrested three people suspected of plotting a cartoonist's assassination for his depiction of the Prophet Muhammad wearing a bomb-shaped turban that enraged Muslims two years ago.

Checking In

Took a break. Just wanted to chill.

I'd speak, but right now one of my favorite Boondocks episodes is on.

Maybe later.

Fight Sleep

I fight sleep. I fight sleep so much. We're not even enemies. I love the shit.

Dreams keep me going. The capability of having dreams, the potential in scope and dynamic that can be accomplished is profoundly, smack a bitch and that bitch is you, surreal.

And don't even GET me started on the pleasures of complicating every little fucking thing.

As Political As I Can Get

Every Kennedy under the ozone was endorsing Obama, and he still lost Massachusetts.

On election day everyone just needs to stay home and masturbate. At least you know who's screwing whom, and you damn sure know you'll be satisfied with the results.

Double Barrel on HD Television

Damn HD tv bullshit.

I already know how ugly and fake television creatures are. Beauty died when the imagination was left behind.

Assholes.

Fuck HD. Give me HEAD - Happily Eat A Dick, ass-licking Hollywood tards.

Had a Good Day

And I'm just going to leave it at that.

Mammal Feels No Pain

Scientists knew the mole rats were quite sensitive to touch — perhaps to help replace their almost useless eyes. After probing their skin, Park and his colleagues unexpectedly discovered the rodents lacked the chemical Substance P, which causes the feeling of burning pain in mammals.

What the Hell Did I Eat, Bear Taint?

I'm so fucking introverted, it's unread. But it can't be unreal, because it is real, is actual and factual. Because I fucking am.

I like it though. I like being alone, I like the idea of solitude, but the walls come closing in every now and then, it's unavoidable, but then, by the time you feel like hanging around people, all the ones that thought they were your friends feel betrayed, call you a prick, and ditch your ass.

Not AAALLL of them, of course. The true friends forgive and understand. Forgive at the very least, anyway. Not all of them comprehend your views on everything, they don't know why you think the way you think, and there's really no point in explaining it to them, not because you want to brush them off, but because you know you won't tread new ground.

I don't like meeting new people. I really don't. But I love some of the shit that happens when I do.

Manager's Choice

I never told her what it was that made it so special. I didn't know.

I fear that if I had ever found out the secret to our relationship while we were together, it would have self destructed. And by "it" I mean me, yes, me; I would have sabotaged the whole thing, I don't know who I'm trying to kid here.

But she chose me.

Her parents didn't disown her. Her friends did call her a lunatic.

If I recall correctly, "A dickless, muscle-headed, crazy bastard."

She laughed at all of them, told them "they just didn't know." I don't know what that meant. I'm guessing it's good. I want it to be good.

She chose me.

Machine Head - Now I Lay Thee Down

One of my favorite videos in ages, mostly because I stopped caring about videos long long ago. The vid goes well with the song, and I have an affinity for silent movies, and the true value of capturing emotion on film.

But Machine Head's always had good videos.

Seeing Through

I don't get photographs. I mean the sentimental, keepsake kind, not the artistic interperative kind.

I look at me, as a toddler, at Christmas, and all I see is me as a toddler at Christmas. But I can also look past that and get new ideas.

I look into mirrors and see the same old thing. I look through the mirror, or past the mirror, into the world behind it, and I see something so spectacular; a new road that has yet to be travelled, leading to more untrekked passages.

All for the moonbeams.