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Mere exhibition to be honest with you. I don't have nearly enough faith in the English Language to think that I can hit a first pitch home-run and piss out something so profound or celestial onto paper that the whole internet goes into a tailspin trying to send the hundred words that found a weakness in the Deathstar.
So we'll call this a cherry buster with the humble belief that with routine comes comfort and set erroneous the theory that you can spend five minutes in therapy and realize that you hate your parents and you might be half racist…
Did you ever notice how change happens at some of the most inconvenient times? It's like the universe senses comfort as a disrupter and deviates itself, sending a message that comfort is a luxury exclusive to the dead. Example: I had friends either move, join cults or die, just when I was beginning to appreciate them. I'm not childish enough to think you can ever learn shit by things remaining exactly the same, or selfish enough to think the world has shit to do with my comfort. I just wanted to freeze a moment and appreciate it. Just a moment.
Losing weight and feeling great has never been easier.
We're going to let these cats go play with themselves while we go catch these guys.
Do you like monkeys?
When you play the way he does, you have to buy a lot of shoes.
Soon all your worldly desires will be filled.
World peace through flavor.
Some home pregnancy tests are not as clear as they should be.
So that's what car thieves look like, I guess we'll tail them until they run low on fuel, then we'll beat the crap out of them.
Introducing Ping-Pong messaging on TV tonight.
Okay, I decided to go to therapy today on the suggestion of my mother, my girlfriend, my boss and pretty much every person I ever met. I figure as an experiment it could be interesting. Strictly to amuse myself, of course, which is the only reason I ever do anything anyway. I didn't think it could do any harm…
Okay, now I'm worried about myself because after we were done with my session I felt like I had to comfort her. My inner child and my outer adult are apparently in conflict. I was always more concerned with the latter.
You stand in complete fear, you know you can't breathe so you don't try. Your mind is crippled with the idea of imminent failure. Incidental, the thought that staring through your life a man born a slingshot instead of a man prepared to slice you in half should you stand to close to his domain.
You quickly shake off any dilemma that the physical pain you risk is a topic. It would be testament to courage you did not know you had. The only fear you can think of is the worst kind of all…The embarrassment of failure. Play ball.
It was lunch time so the park was crowded. People just trying to go on vacation for five minutes in hopes of forgetting how their lives turned out and return in dreamcast to their imaginary careers, first orgasms, etc. Along came some fool, quoting Shakespeare, to his equally foolish friend. And as he got to the end of Hamlet's monologue, I, fatigued from the day, looked up and said, "hey, fuck you!" in the biggest New York accent I could conjure. It was nice to bring those people out of their daydreams with the first laughter they had in years.
A baby blue jay had fallen in my yard and broken its foot. It was struggling to move. I heard somewhere that if you touch a baby bird you stink it all up in human and it's mother wouldn't want it back, so I left it alone. Five minutes later I heard dozens of birds chirping frantically. I ran outside to find the grounded little one was just about to become cat shit the long way. I chased away the cat and the chirping stopped. Ten minutes later the same thing happened. And then again the birds were calling me.
I have a trap door in my brain
For sure, for sale, for shame.
To the gurney we churn
We spark, we park, we burn.
Go from here and spread the who's who's
Take your aim and be sure and slow.
Take only what you can't give
Give less than more for show.
We take, we take, we take
I go, I sell
Broken inventory, no goods
Accounted for unsalable.
Far from here one cries with envy for the time share in eternity.
Time time passes.
Mine mine goes…away.
I have a trap door in my brain
For sure, for?
I met a homeless guy that made no excuses, no sob story, no bitterness. It was like he saw his life as a coin toss and he assumed responsibility for calling heads rather than tails and saw it pointless to second guess it. This makes things a little difficult for those of us who want to declare the whole world is against us every time we get stuck in traffic. Think about the threat, a man with no place to live electing not to be a victim screws up the whole complaint curve because now I have to grim and…
Tomorrow they are going to execute a man who was responsible for blowing up a building with a whole shit load of people in it he never met. That is, if all goes according to plan. He is going to lay in a chair and injected full of some poison shit by some state appointed official that he never met, if all goes according to plan.
The sad fact that I cannot seem to elude is that people believe in this guys issues and tomorrow he gets nailed to the proverbial cross. It just seems a little odd to me.
I wish to subdue anger. It poisons my soul all up. It gets unbelievably difficult at those times when being passive on all counts would be the best interest, but my ego tugs on the side of my pants and tells me that I have somehow been threatened and if I stand down I will lose a part of me that will keep me from sleeping in it's absence.
I cross paths with a fucker I was just dying to make a man out of today. I stood down in the interest of not letting my ego run my life.
People have said that quitting is the easy way out of things. I don't agree. It is got to be the hardest thing I ever tried to do. Trying and failing is easy. Trying and succeeding is even easier. Not being given a chance will keep you up at night. But giving up on something (anything) when you know you still have some fumes left in the tank will keep you up for days. This is not courage or resilience on my behalf. It is plain stubbornness. You would think I should be able to sleep anyway, I can't yet.
If I could see through time the one thing I would like to see if they would ever make a sequel to "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang". It would be with a modern tone to it this time. Where as instead of flying to some secret land of kings and toys and shit, Chitty and Dick Van Dyke would have to save the world from Steven King's Christine. Recruiting Night Rider and Herby the Love Bug to help. But, instead of destroying old Christine, they would teach her the ways of the human friendly automobile with a personality. Write the script.
You ever get so bummed about something that tomorrow would freeze in its calendar and go the hell away. I go the other way with that concern. I was yesterday would go the hell away and take the fucking day before that with him. "Now" being the only time that actually exists, you can use now to make modifications for "Later" if you do not like where it's headed. "Then" however, is a ghost that reminds you of every stupid thing you have ever done and unless I can worship passed miscues as "Now Practice", this head will be haunted.
Every meet one of those people that no matter what they are telling you about, some terrible heartless thing was done exclusively to them? And what's more, they are not even one percent responsible or wrong in any way. My heart honestly goes out to those people. It is fucking sad because they don't know how to be anything but a victim. I believe that a victim's fate is unfortunately the worst one because it will not occur to them that they could have had (or not had) any life they choose until they lay confused on their death bed.
When I was a kid, I was diagnosed as having dyslexia and a handful of other possible learning disorders. They told my mom I would never drive a car, never go to college or maybe even finish highschool for that matter. I am saying this for a reason. I graduated highschool and am currently in college that I drive my car too, and that's great, but tonight I put the last nail in the old doctors the theory of my uselessness. I won a game of trivial pursuit over three of the most intelligent people I know. Learning disability this!
As a fan of authentic music, I find myself steering clear of a high percentage of what would be considered "radio bands". That being said, I saw U2 at the great Madison Square Garden tonight. I was blown away, they were remarkable. A big production that didn't lack integrity in a single note. The energy from the crowd, coupled with the energy from the amps made for a feeling I would call nothing shy of celestial. The other thing I noticed was that whether you think you like them or not, you know all the words to all their songs.
"You are all probably wondering why I called you here. We have a situation, which cannot be ignored or cast aside in hopes that it'll lose weight and blow away in the wind like so much power ballad. We are no longer in the position where we can rely on our reputations as membership to a club that we never have to renew. Gone is the day where these actions are the exclusive burden of the peasant folk who suffer no moral discomfort. It has leaked it is way to our very fiber. Gentleman it's time we took a shit."
If it ever goes away, I'd like to think I partied with it. If it stays I hope I can appreciate it. If it beats me, I hope I make it walk away bleeding. If I beat it, I hope I never know enough arrogance that I not deem it a worthy competitor rather than a foe. If it gets the best of me, may I be humble enough to bow. If it grants me beautiful things may I see the need to share. If it grants me ugly things, may I see the beauty in all things…If it grants.
I do not want to be the kind of person who takes the elevator for one floor or jams on the brakes in hopes of getting ended into an insurance settlement. I don't want to be that guy who is always suing somebody for that matter. I don't want to be that over sensitive moron that everyone has to tiptoe around because they have been having the same bad day for ten years. Or the tough guy that is such a bad ass that he teaches a class on the subjects that always start with the words "I used to".
I swear to God, the longer I am alive, the less I understand life, the more complicated it seems to get. At this rate, by the time I'm forty, I will need to know the physical formula to stop time to figure out where I parked my car. I refer to my first memories as a child.
Food goes into this hole in the front of my head. Bang out your best Max Roche on your high chair to get your mother's attention. And shit straight into a built in toilet. First mistake, wandering away from the toilet. Big mistake.
They say that anger is a secondary emotion meaning that of itself it is a cover up. It does not exist. It is an aggressive response to fear. Now take that knowledge and figure out how many times a day you are scared. Not to get all inner child or anything, I just think I would spend a lot less time wanting to take a caulk file to certain peoples knuckles for cutting me off, if I could just take a minute to pause and acknowledge the fact that I am really chicken shit not tough. Just a thought…It passed.
I stole the pie, I stole the pie, I stole the pie, I stole the pie, I stole the pie, I stole the pie, I stole the pie, I stole the pie, I stole the pie, I stole the pie, I stole the pie, I stole the pie, I stole the pie, I stole the pie. Subliminal message missing. I stole the pie, I stole the pie, I stole the pie, I stole the pie, I stole the pie, I stole the pie, I stole the pie, I stole the pie, I stole the pie, I stole the pie, I
It has been years since it's been the early nineties. I tribute 1991, living in the decade when everything was about to happen, but never did. I mean we had riots for social upheaval and a cute little war for political upheaval fighting against the devil, who we coincidentally can't find, but provided he doesn't talk so loud, he ain't so bad. Suddenly cheap clothes were fashionable and it was actually cool to want to kill yourself (two trends I was involuntarily a pioneer for in the eighties). And who could forget the…I already forgot it. But there was the…
When I lived in Miami, I learned that I was selfish or at best opportunist. Social groups (Freaks, Jocks, Nerds, Burnouts, etc.) did not blend as well as in New York. I wanted to fit somewhere, but I was cautious not to take the first offer. It's just like that on planet highschool. You aspire to look down on everybody, but you take the highest part of the hierarchy that is available. I remember going to return a cigarette I bummed from somebody who wouldn't take it, I insisted, I was afraid he would move past me. I hate society.
They are watching me I just know it.
Waiting for me to slip so they can send me back.
I must be vigilant because they have more patience than me.
I cannot show my wings or scars.
I awake and step onto thin ice, nervously listening for crack sounds in desperate fear that
I will go through. I will drowned, freeze and be scared to death at the exact same time. He waits in a ditch he dug
The noise is loud, it's quiet.
Isolating the explosions, trying to pick out which one will bring peace and send him home.
I used to hate mirrors. The way they would reflect the features, or lack there of, on my face was bad enough, but when I would look through my own eyes into the trunk of an abandoned Buick that had become my soul, it was more than I could swallow without milk. But you learn to work through shit. It just happens provided you keep your mind as free of ignorance as possible. Then something else happens, you see another mirror. It's not the one on the wall, but another person with the eyes you used to have. You smile.
I found it, I found it! It shines to my conscience.
I found my thing.
I display further nonsense.
Been looking for some time, seems like hours.
Extended hyper activity takes no shit from no shitter.
You can't bullshit a bullshitter, says the old man.
He is so full of shit that no one has the heart to tell him his eyes are brown.
I found it, I found it, now tell me what you found.
The rest of my lunch, it was right over here.
I lost it, I lost it.
When I heard of armadillo skin paint.
I think they should make every movie with two different endings, just in case anyone didn't like the first. This way we could create a comparative visual to both skewed ends of the possibility. Imagine going to see "Planet of the Apes", to find that it had always been earth. Then going back the next night to find Heston rescued by his home planet earth, then raising an army to free all the human slaves.
Come to think of it, I would absolutely hate it and this may be the stupidest idea I ever had in my life.
I went to a party down by Chelsea Piers for a few shits and giggles. It was on this boat and aligning dock. It was cool except when I went to the lower level of this boat to see what was going on. Bunch of people dressed like Sex Pistols dancing to semi-popular eighties songs. The famous prom scene from the movie "Carrie" was playing on the wall. This was all great. The bad part was turning to leave and walking straight into a piece of iron and sustaining what feels a lot like a head wound. Struggling to write…
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