chriskaasi

Hollyweird is wood in the sense that kids like Isaac go overlooked and brushed off while the hordes rush off to the nearest orange julius stand, unaware that theyve been taken for the long ride played the fool ran the full length of martyrdom in the name of salesmanship and a Christina Aguilera video plays in the background while unfit mothers check their cell phones amidst the lostness of whitewash. (Show me the money!) The bookstore specializes in the cutest giftcards and magazines like Glamour, Cosmo, Mens Health, Maxum, etc. cause literature was dead at its very conception, and this is by far the gayest tirade Ive ever gone off on. (Picture Thurston Moore singing, its the song I hate.) (Especially since Im the drunkest dude you never met, and shouldnt be given credit for anything even remotely intellectual.) (Nor would I wanna take credit for any line as teen-angsty as that.) (ugh.) I mean, its the man, man! All they care about is makin money shocking I think Java Man was found wearing a fuck corporate america t-shirt and they didnt even have printing presses back then. And really, why is it that when I walk through the mall I feel AMAZED that people dont recognize me utterly amazed that total strangers arent clamouring about me asking nervous questions that Im only paying attention to in the most half-ass fashion. Have I really become that much of an egomaniac? (I get the same feeling in stripclubs too.) (Isaac is saying, oh, my mind is all made up.)
Im up to trailer trash now, and I cant help but think of the way society tells me my cousins are whores cause they work in stripclubs I cant help but think of the way society hates my cousins cause theyre white girls who have black babies Isaac says, I shout that youre all fake, and you shoulda seen the look on your face, but I guess thats what it takes when comparing your bellyaches. My stoner aunt simply summed up the whole thing by calling it southern pride, but she was making a joke, and she was really stoned when she said it we were sitting in the waiting room of the cardiac care unit at St. Vincents waiting for someone to come tell us we could see my father in that horrible near-death room they put people in after bi-pass surgery my mother was sitting beside me but she was too nervous to say anything my head was spinning, but that was nearly two years ago and were all back to normal now.

Truckers Atlas, and Im drunk watching a girls gone wild infomercial with the sound off SnoopDogg is the coolest guy ever, but these girls remind me of why I didnt like my fianc. (And the fratboys can kiss my ass.) And by the way, I once saw my beloved Mary on one of those naked Mardi Gras videos she was flashing her tits, but seemed distracted and unusally sad. I felt horrible.

Im trying to drink away the part of the day I can not sleep away, while thinking of reincarnation, but Im not really sure I ever did anything noteworthy in the past, nor will I ever do anything newsworthy in the future, and hence, Ill fade like nothing. (Isaac is saying, its all nice on ice.) (Jacky is saying something about Jesus, but Im too drunk to pay attention.) (and the whole thing starts over again.) (ugh.) Im flipping through my own personal notes, looking for something good that I said, but the best I could find was a note I jotted down on this rectangular condo-ad laminate it says, Girls taste like the silkiest candy I mean Im a pervert, but I didnt mean that in a bad way Im just lonely. (melancholy) (drunk) (like Ive always been.) The mobius strip is never-ending and Im as blank as I ever was.