pb

oh ha ha. oh hardy fuckin' har. real fuckin' funny.

so i hop on da mountain bike, strap up the backpack, plug in the 'phones and head down the street at breakneck. i'm riding the mile or so down to the mechanic shop where my fuckin' truck is being worked on because i fuckin' blew up the fuckin' engine because i'm so fuckin' cool that i have to break very expensive shit that i own. yeah, real cool.

any fuckin' way, i'm breakneckin' thru traffic, jumping curbs and being a general st00pid ass, when i get the angle all wrong on a curb and my front mudder tire scraaaaaaapes down the curb instead of hopping it.

ya, da pb slides a good ten feet going "sheeeeeeeeiiiiit" in front of kids and nuns and grandmas on the street. i slide into a 'phone pole and the bike flips up my leg, dragging the metal teeth of that oh so sexy ultra grip pedal right up my shin while i catch myself on my hands so my face doesn't paint the concrete with pb teeth and brains. fuckin' a what a wipeout.

i try to salvage some coolness and for some reason scissor lock the bike between my legs and flip it off me. i pop up with bright red pb blood pooling in my shoe and my pride a'hurtin' like a bitch.

the girl that walks up and asks if i'm okay looks slightly amused when i tell her, "oh yeah, i'm all right. you wouldn't believe how much this happens. all the damn time baby. wanna make out?" ok, so maybe i wasn't that smooth, but right about then the adrenaline was pumping and i probably mumbled something about cast iron endoskeletons or some other macho bullshit.


so, i have holes in my shins, a bloody shoe and two really, really painful wrists that'll probably be screaming blue pain tomorrow. pssssshhhh yeah.

i can't get a break this week. good thing its almost over.

my dad always told me,"...if you're gonna be dumb you better be tough."

hahahaahah mutha fuck, i live for this shit.




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type o negative is touring. i've mentioned before how blisteringly cool this is. showdates and cities we'll be being awesome with the Drab Four:

10.15.04 Philadelphia, PA Theatre of the Living Arts
11.11.04 Washington, DC Nation (early show - 7pm doors)
11.13.04 Sayreville, NJ Starland Ballroom

one kickass autumn coming up.




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i live for fantasy. i've been poring over books and been enraptured by movies for as long as i can remember. the world in my head is what keeps me going, i think. sometimes the real melds with the imagined...but most times i'm like those pics of charley's...gazing from a window several floors up.

i think what motivates me is the constant struggle to make the droll drabness of the real more into something bearing at least a passing resemblence-taste-feel-scent to the made-up, piercing, penetrating, direly poignant world inside my skull. riddles, but with answers. pain, but with resolution. solitude, but alongside another. mist, smog, uncertainty...but with a haunting, lasting beauty.

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repair bill on truck = at least $3000
payoff on same truck = approx $10k
blue book trade in value = approx $8k

this isn't adding up to be a very good week.



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sometimes a few well placed words, like ice cold water, are enough to snap one back into reality

reality and SG are incompatible


thanks, g'nite



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i want hair and skin and softness and breath and pleading hands and aftershocks and teeth on my ear and to pin you down and feel your ribs rub against mine and your insistence in my soul and your silence next to me always and your gaze like a jackhammer in my head and your sighs in my dreams and your name on my gravestone and your flesh running around on little feet with kool-aid smiles and i weary of the wait



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i have to walk everywhere. this is cool because i picked up a pair of chucks a few weeks back. first pair in over 15 years.

it sucks when i want to buy an assload of groceries though

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this is for delusion, for she is my favorite d-word.


autumn is on the way. it plods toward me like...something wicked this way comes. prepare 'O gentle, beloved reader, for a daily deluge of delusional dissonance and discourse; for my distinct disposition is one disproportionately damaged by seasonal drift and death. doubled with decidous trees all afire and cold wind like death's fingers on your neck, i shall most likely delve into diffuse discourse of little import and much deploreable diction.






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"...the only way to fix it is to flush it all away..." -tool




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-pb



music: lateralus
book: avengers, brian lumley
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