Update

Soon, I will try to use this again. Recently I have realized that the more I do on the internet, the less I want to do it. Stay tuned. Maybe I will make this over again. Who knows?

Generate

Soon I will be peddling phone upgrades for full time, more than minimum wage dollars. Sales, not my thing. It can be done, but you can't get me to smile while doing it.

Full time hours mean debts paid off and on my way to moving into my own place.

And a 360.

When?

You ever look around at the people in your life and think, "Is this what they want to do for the rest of their lives? Get stoned, get drunk, and watch bad television?"

While I admit I may do such things every once in a while, as of yesterday, I don't see the reason. Is this something they are going to continue for ages? Even when in relationships where the other clearly does not approve?

No thanks. I will pass it to the left, but I ain't touchin' that shit no more. Unless of course I want to beat my self up and make myself feel like shit.

But there is no point to even that as I'll forget about it in about five minutes.

Have I reached my age of reason? Or am I just a preachy fuck?

The subject can't be breached because everyone gets defensive. And they don't care if I've seen the negative effects that pull a fatty rip multiple times a day can do to a person, their relationships and family, and general life path.

"Every person is different."

Not by that much.

When it comes to shit like this, is it worth the effort even though you know they are going to get pissed and defensive? Or does it just essentially boil down to my life is mine to worry about, your's is your's?

Sense the Sandstone

You should think about self-consciousness and the senses. It's quite an interesting thoughts process.

Here are my thoughts on it:
We as people are most self-conscious about how we look. Followed by how we smell. Some people are self-conscious of how they sound (record someone's voice and play it back to them, my guess is 50% will tell you to turn it off or at least squirm a little. The only time we're really concerned about how we taste and/or feel is during sex or other intimate interpersonal relationships. Like butt sex, which isn't real sex because you can have all the butt sex you want and still keep your virginity so God stay's happy and casts you not into a lake of fire.

But yeah. That's the nutshell of what I was thinking about last night.

Happy Draw A Dinosaur Day!

My friend Todd started this holiday two years ago probably in a fit of boredom. This is my second year participating. And I don't know if it's sad or lame or whatever, but it is the only holiday I look forward to each year.

So I present to you this year's submission. Enjoy!



Also, if you wish to participate, feel free to e-mail me a copy of your dinosaur, post it onto Flickr here as a comment, or... uh, yeah. I guess that's all the options. Either of those will get your dinosaur added to the collective.

This Is How It Is. [Editted]

Most of the time when I have free mental thought moments, I spend my time playing with words in what I find a aesthetic manner. This is a (barely) edited (drunk) example of what I think in that free time:

Times(Times).

You speak zeroes and ones.

I speak roots, leafs, and clods of dirt.

Negative thoughts have taken their place in my brain space in the past but I refuse to let them overtake me in over powering tentacle grips. This one (I) will go down in flames in what you call curse words and gratuitous violence before I let that take place.

"Nostalgia" is too close to "stale" for my taste, therefore I refuse to live a life of it. Thanks for the memories, but the future is on the horizon and I plan to make the journey towards.

Solipsistic. Egotistic. Narcissistic.
Stroke it until one's heads explode.

Trampled tender tendrils tamper temperaments.
Chalk it up to experience,
but file it away under "Forever forgotten {Forgive It}."

Fatalities = God's Fatalist Plan. (Bullshit)

Hot ash against the tired shoulders [Seventh's soldiers] exhaustion.

Exhaustion, exhaustion, exhaustion.

You tire, I tire. Let's tire together in the hibernational slumber of visceral covered reborn babies.

Side to side.
Ass to ass.
Genital to genital.
Appendages around appendages.
My breath.
Your breath.
Our necks become warm and feel as one.

Forgot the future. Worry not about the past. Today is today and we know nothing other than.

(Moment)
to
(Moment)


Will you push forward with me hand-in-hand?
Will you become part of my collective even when we have nothing to offer the world that is considered exclusive.

Inclusive hearts and inclusive heads and inclusive heads.

{sword fight}

We may not understand each other but waking up next to you will negate everything that equals plus/minus zero. The sum of everything I hate about you will end up being everything I "Less Than Three" about you (to speak in the parlance of our times).

Me the sucker. You the stick. Popped in one's mouth, I will cease to exist.

We are not infinite even though we lie (hard) to you and me and I and we and us and every single Soul© we know. [Or tell ourselves we do despite the facts before us and I and you and we and me and every single Soul© we think we know.]

I will speak MATH to you until we cease. My only expectation is your American, Yiddish, Germanic, French, Spanish, Anglo-Saxon, Biblical, Zealotious response that you can speak in only scientifically proven counter bullet points.

Forever and ever.
Back and forth.
Forthwards and backlike.
Likeforth and warded backs.

We die for no one. We live for each other. (?)

Angels cry sounds of desire that end only in Holy numerical silence.

.......






P.S. I understand how drunkards have become what we (Americans) call our classic authors. Words flow so much better when the wine (whiskey, scotch, gin, vodka, tequila, beer, fermented Juicy Juice) flows freely. My third to last beer was for Hemingway. Thank you for securing my third choice of how to commit suicide.

Let Me Touch You

Back Yard. And yes, you do see poop.

Cause I haven't in a while.

Yes, anyone who reads anything I type and you end up reading lately has been about work stuff. Boring, yes. But please keep in mind I am house locked probably six days out of the week and really have nothing exciting to talk about. Bear with me. You are also welcome to bare with me as well. (If you're that comfortable with me, well, hell. I don't want to say, "No," and make you feel uncomfortable.)

Even though it doesn't look like it outside, the thaw is coming and I can take solace in that. The time to shed my hibernation coat is coming soon. At that time I shall be a blur of activity. Mostly involving dirt, trees, and tracking small animals which I will never find because I am human and will most likely get distracted by any number of things like airplanes, pinecones, changes in music volume, and most likely my roommate.

Of course in the mean time, I will be perched in front of this giant beast of a monitor checking job posting sites relentlessly, writing seven hundred resumes all geared towards one aspect or another, and chatting with people who are bored at work and I turn out to be the only person online. I will also listen to my music full blast since no one is home but the dog and two cats and so far they haven't said shit. So fuck them and the giant dump evolution did on them by not giving them vocal chords or opposable thumbs.

And making it standard for them to eat shit.

As far as entertainment is going, I am glad I kept my original PlayStation as I am having a blast downloading, burning, and using the swap trick so I can play some old classics I never had the chance to play on an actual PlayStation instead of a system pushing, eventual crashing emulator. Currently playing Suikoden II, Dragon Quest VII, and Parasite Eve. Magical.

Ummm... That's all.