phoolsfire

dude...seriously, i could fail at ANYTHING...seriously. i have a tendency to over analyse everything...that i havent a clue what a rock is, or, for that matter why it would dream about cookery (if you didnt get this joke, yr lucky).
did you go thru the needle-treatment? and that's what you get for talking about feng shui earlier
philosophy scares me, too.
i have a tendency to...well, i less speak to people and more heckle them. women too. to be blunt, i attack anyone that comes within earshot. with chicks, it's when they laugh that i'm all like "Ah, youse get me funny, i love you long time." after that it's porno music and teddybears. really though, that's pretty much my strategy, if the chick gets offended by me then it wasnt meant to be.
and i dont do scatological humour...much. my shit's all cerebral and such.
this whole stifling laugh thing is mostly social ediquitte (edequitte? eer...). when i'm out amongst the normal folk, i must be respectful of their culture.
or so the programming that taught me sez so.
on the wagon, still, thank you. you say it like it's a bad thing. i mean....it's not a bad thing....ahem....it's on automatic, these days. ie i dont bother my penis, he dont bother me. it's better this way...............................send for help, he taunts me when i'm asleep. help....me.......please.....
"who's afraid of virginia woolf?" nope, never seen it. any good? (for some, fucked-up means bad, 'pending the personal idiom and such).
...numbers piss me off. numerology is cool, but that's all abstract and such. so what yr saying is i'm gonna need to be in...like...7 more relationships before i know who is best for me? that is so bullshit--I WANT A RECOUNT! seriously, are we talking relationship relationships or...like..."she's drunk and i'm bored" relationships? because this is...like...too time consuming.
maybe i can find a chick with multipul personalities and speed the process up....hmm....
and this "wheel" process you speak of sounds..."wheely" boring (GHAHAHAHA--comic genius!)....er....

[Edited on Dec 08, 2004 12:29AM]

it was original in the way that i wrote it, i guess. I really dunno what yr asking, though. with me, all writing is somewhat autobiographical. Shit, i wrote a novel that was based around two years of my life.
There was this chick that asked me to proof read an essay she wrote for one of her classes, it was crap. I didnt see how she graduated high school with such a limited vocabulary. So i went thru and changed/suggested additions and ways expound on some of her ideas. She ended up getting a B and she blamed me...cunt. I dont talk to her anymore .
i work one janitorial job. For a bit, Sammy and i worked together at the Bergners (Sp?) store @ the shoppes at Grand Prarie. Thats a part of the Jolly Ranchers' bit. Though, when i got high and went to work and lusted after Jolly Rancers, it was at UIC. The dept store just had a bit more i could satirize. It made for a better story.
Flattery, eh...uuh, sea horses rock ass? I got nothin.
so...next time i'll have to do a thousand times more lines than i did last time. Eer.
MJK from Tool has a degree in Feng Shui. You see what good that does him
Are you someone that gets test anxiety?
What do you mean by crappy philosophy stuff? Like what?
Wtf is a munsell wheel?!

the conclusion is the easy part...that's the bit that comes at the end, right? there's certainly a bit of acomplishment with completing that bit. which is why it's a good rule to di it first, you know, to start out on a good note.
pbr is filtered donkey piss. cheep filtered donkey piss, but donkey piss nonetheless. no offense if that happens to be yr drink of choice. i cant stand beer. i'm sure if i drank more of it i would build up a tolerance, but it seems a bit pointless, you know?
i can dig on wine coolers, zima, and sky blue all day long. though they work best as chasers. mmm--vodka and zima. i'm a pussy that way. i dont like the image of beer, either. the ads and such.
the weird thing about the side of the breast is...well, i'm not really a tit guy....er...though...come to think of it, i've been on a chicken nugget jag for the past month or so--you might be onto something.
"i was thinking of buying all my family members assult weapons of some sort, just to get rid of the empty threats." brilliant, absolutely brilliant.
and a gps will prevent me from getting lost. i got me a map today, J gave me one. it's of peoria and some surrounding areas. not as far as bloomington, though.
what does proofreading entail, exactly? i've been asked to do it a number of times, but i never know what to look for. is it just for grammar and spelling and such, or is there a fact checking element involved?
this post is getting kinda long, but i wanna say a whole lot more. not in a "Forgive me father, for i have sined" type of way. more like, "So me and Jimmy, right, we juss started wingin rocks at this cow, right, and this cow, he's juss standin there, like, all mooin at us and shit..." type of thing. like a story or something interesting. like a Kerouac thing. like, "Mugging people for photos is an odd way to do photography. Mugging anyone for anything is kind of rough, but people have a certain amount of hesitancy when it comes to a stranger taking their photo.
Going up to a person on the street and shoving a camera in their face, saying, Do you mind? Doesnt work. People then think you want them to take a picture of you. Then saying, No, no, one of you. Is a dangerous thing. People automatically want to know what for.
What for?
Paraphernalia. Hit list. Im with the CIA. Im a P.I. Just for practice.
What are you gonna do with the picture?
Jack off to it. Post it on the net. Tell people youre my friend. Im a lonely, pathetic person. Nothing, really. I just need to build a portfolio.
Why me?
In this lite, I can see your tits thru your shirt. Youve got food in your teeth. Your head is misshapen. You truly do look like a whore/redneck/psycho/celebrity. I dunno. You seem different. Do you mind?
This isnt as easy as it seems. Guys think Im hitting on them and I get called a variety of names. Women think Im hitting on them and I get called a pervert. I usually get a flat out no, but every once in a while I get a, dont talk to me. "
am i up to a page yet? my goal, is to make you stop reading the post before i'm done writing it. it's a game! like connect four.
"I used to be a racist. Well, not a racist consciously, more of a vicarious racist. I mean, I dunno what it means, but right now it sounds better then it probably should. Maybe I should explain deeper.
When I was around five or so, I heard a friend of my fathers say the word nigger. Being but five I had no idea what was meant by the word. Going by the reaction of the others present, I figured it was something big.
My mother kind of gave my father a glare and my father told his friend, Not around the kid.
It was like the magazines I was told to ignore and the channels I was asked never to watch. It was said, it was there, it was now all I was interested in. I used it around my friends. We would gather in a little profane circle-jerks and reveal all the bad words we knew at that point. Mine, it seemed, was the best.
And so it went.
A few days later my mother heard me calling one of my friends a nigger and I was promptly pulled aside; grounded and lectured.
She said, Thats a word that you shouldnt ever use, EVER. Its a word of hate and ignorance""
I'm getting a bit tired. i should actually update my journal, i have notes that need transcribed and posted. my usual superficial dribble. but i'm not sure you've quit yet...so i'll do one more...this one's a long one........
And I say, "It's in, like, two minutes. I gotta be there in two minutes."
Josh shrugs and continues to grind the brass looking tube into the bottom of the black, plastic 35mm film container. He says, "So?" and he lights his little plastic lighter and holds it to one end of the brass tube, sucking on other. He sucks and he sucks, and his head flies back, and he's coughing raw coughs that make you think his lungs are on the way.
Josh is wrapped in a dirty-tan duvet. He has one foot sitting on the cushion of his recliner; his knee slumped, resting against the arm on the chair. His other foot is hanging out of the bundle and over the side, sitting on the floorhe stomps it as he coughs. Mid-cough he says, So?
I lean forward and tap the tips of my shoes, rhythmically, with my fingers. The two cats, Siamese, crouch down and watch me like rabbits that just heard something. Their eyes are full black with little edges of fluorescent blue.
"So," I say, "so...so..."
"So," Josh says.
And I say, "So, so, so."
He says, "You wanna hit?"
I sigh and look at the wall clock. I say, "Im serious, I gotta be at work in two minutes." I look at Martin, and he shrugs. I look back at Josh, and I say, "So...sure."
He nods and hands me the hitter. I grab for my Zippo on the table, and Josh says, "You'll burn out my resin," and tosses me his little plastic lighter.
I nod and light up, inhale, hold, inhale, hold, inhale, hold. I'm expecting my lungs to explode, Im expecting my eye to pop out of my head, Im expecting something, but nothing comes. A tickle maybe, but nothing else. I release half the blast and light, inhale and hold again. And again. And again. And again. And I say, "You were gagging on this?"
And Martin laughs.
And Josh says, "Fuck off, I just got up, I havent even had a cigarette yet."
I nod and hand the hitter to Martin, who puts it in the ashtray.
I look at the clock again, it says 2:50 and I stand up. I pick up the change that fell out of my pocket and say, "This was fun, I say, but I gotta go to work."
And Josh says, "Hey, you know where I live now."
I shrug and ask Martin, Ready?

A half-hour into working, my body starts tingling and the shadows come alive. Im standing, staring at mannequin of a little girl wearing a bikini; with her underdeveloped tits staring back at me, I know if Im caught looking this hard, Ill be fired.
I work at a posh department store with Martinwere the janitors.
Six hundred dollars for a shit-brown suit jacket on the second floor. Also on the second floor are muscular male-model mannequins, headless, sporting the latest in Ghetto Chicthug life in the suburbs.
The carpet-island to the left of Ghetto mannequins are the six hundred dollar jackets, and the hundred and twenty dollar dress shirts that come in six different shades of the same color blue. The island in front of that is the yuppie accessories: expensive ties and dead cow belts, watches that have modes and functions that normal folks dont needlike multiple time zones and ultra-super deep-sea diving depths.
Next to the accessories, the island in front of the thuggish statues, is the boys apparelT-shirts with action figures and catch phrases.
The island next to that is boys and girls swimwear. In each of the corners there are little white monster mannequins, ones where the faces are stretched and bent, and the kids have sloppy yellow hair and goofy blue eyestheyre petting a deformed pastel dog. Above the dressing rooms are normal looking kid mannequins. The girl mannequin is wearing a blue two-piece, and you can see two pill-sized nipples poking out thru the material.
Im standing stoned in the doorway of the dressing room, pressing my arm, hard, against one of the walls. Im staring and counting. When I get to sixty I take a step back and relax my armit floats up and hits the swastika shaped clothes rack, knocking a tiny blue bikini onto the floor.
I pick it up and its the exact same as the one the girl mannequin is wearing. I blink a couple of times and read the tag. It says that its a nylon blend. I stand blank for a second, then shed my aqua coloured vest with the name of the janitorial companyKapicoembroidered into the left breast. I turn it so that I can look at the tag, it says that its a poly-cotton blend.

Later, my mouth began to dry-water, and I started craving LifeSavers. I remembered seeing LifeSavers in one of the vending machines, but they were 65. I had the change, but I didnt want to spend it, not on something Id chomp thru like crackers. I wanted something vivid, something that would lastI wanted Jolly Ranchers.
Jolly Ranchersbloody ChristJolly Ranchers. Grape and watermelon, thats what I wantedand peach. This one secretary, Cheri, has Jolly Ranchers. She has em, but most of the time she keeps them hidden. Just to be safe, I thought, I might want to get something else.
Terri, a fellow janitor, walks by and I ask, "What kind of candy you got in your area?" She works on the third floor where they hide the yuppies, secretaries and other business-types.
She shrugs and thinks for a second. She shrugs again and says, "Milky Ways, Twinkies, gum...stuff. I havent been up there yet, so..."
"So, so, so," I said. I say, "I need something to suck on."
Terri laughs and says, "I got a couple of things you can suck on."
I nod, "Of course you do," I say.

At 4-ish I go out for a cigarette and get caught off guard by some girl. She was talking on a cell phone, and I remember thinking that she had a voice like yours. Then I remembered thinking once that I saw someone that looked like you. I remember thinking that I should go up and tell her who she looked like, but decided not towhy should she care, I thought. I was thinking about that, and then I thought that maybe it wasnt me who had thought that originally. Maybe someone else had said it, and I heard it, and it all-of-a-sudden applied.

My boss came out and began talking to me, but I didnt hear him; I was still considering my complete lack of original thought.
"...pearl necklace," my boss, James, said while pointing at the blue beads poking out from around my neck.
"Nah," I say, "It's fake...they're blue."
"What?"
I shook my head, "It's...I wasn't listening."
He says, "I said, Is that a woman's pearl necklace? "
I say, "It's blue...fakethey're beads, not pearls."
And he says, "But it's a woman's necklace."
I say, "They're beads..."
"But," he says, "It's for women."
I shake my head and say, "Im wearing them, so no."
James stares at me with a blank look, then says, But, th
I interrupt him with, "They're just temporary, for a week or so."
He asks, "You know what's not temporary?"
I shake my head and he says, "Being fired."
And I nod and say; "They're tucked in."
And he shakes his head and says, "What's on your fucking arm?"
I look at my arm and say, " Eleven strikes, three eyes, and a weird, funky ferret thingy."
James shakes his head and says, "Man, you're just looking to ge"
And I interrupt again. I pull down the collar of my T-shirt and show him my collarbone. On it, is 666. I say, "I have it written seven times on my body, guess where?"
"You know," he says, but doesnt get the chance to finish; I say, "It's a fucking Sunday, no one's here. I throw my cigarette onto the sidewalk and say, Itll all be gone by Monday. If it's not, bitch at me then."
He says fine, but then says, "If Chris comes by and sees it, you'll be gone by Monday."
I shrug; "If Chris comes by, Ill hide in a broom closet."
And he laughs, and says, "Me too." He says, Save me a spot. He says, What left do you have to do?"
And I shrug and say, "Not muchjust gotta find some Jolly Ranchers.
fuck, did i win?

Whoops. Guess I wont be coming to Bloomington tonite. Even if I wanted to, Id prolly get lost as a bastard. I need a map or a GPS system or something, I have no sense of direction. It took me a week, a fucking week before I could confidently get from Pekin to Peoria to Canton to Creve Coeur. And I still cant get around a lot of Peoria, most notably the north side, without having a panic attack. Though, if your interested, next Friday theres a show at the East Peoria legion hall at 7. Metal bands, Im pretty sure. 7th Overture, Cygnus Loop, Rye Field Crane, and Minsk, I think. The EPLH kinda sucks as avenue, its a dirty, tiny, place that has cowboy themed bathroomsbut its a dirty tiny place with cowboy themed bathrooms and live music! And a bar. That is, if youre interested.
A good way to get thru a writing assignment what your stuck on, is to take the assignment and write something fictional on it. Just make shit it for a while. It clears the limits you have set for yourself and gets the creative juices flowing, as it is. And youll prolly come up with something, a phrase or sentence or idea, that you can run with in the real assignment. I dunno how it is with research assignments and such, but in my writing and lit classes, thats usually what worked with me. Er

Oh, and my cat's name is Patches, btw. If you couldn't tell from the wildly unimaginative name, she's a calico. She's also approximately 16yo (we got her in '89), missing a tooth and has a tumor in her mouth.
And are you still serious about pulling a Tank Girl? If so, you have my full support. If the picture of you in your Pics section is any kind of recent photo, i think you'd look quite spiffy as such. But on the off chance it comes out looking peculiar, have some hair dye handy. It's my experience that dye makes any style look great. I think it's the general consensus that if it's bad and dyed, it's a statement. I mean, why else would you draw attention to it other wise?

What's the band yr going to see and what genre do they tightest fit into?
I dont say this to very many people...so dont spread it around...but, i could learn a lot from you.

I have no doubt that the underlying problem is apathy. But, as you probably know, apathy runs hand in hand with the great American past times of comfort and consumerism (you cant have one without the other). We're taught from a very young age that goods is good. Were you sickened by the Great Oprah Car Giveaway? By the orgasmic reaction of the audience?
AIDS is on the rise again, thanks to the apathy of my generation.
but its all about commodity. the problems not in marketing, its in the apathy, but the commodity IS our generation. We've all bought into it at one point or another. Suicide Girls is a prime example, you know? You can say that this site is different because the girls are punkish or goth, you can say that it's edgy and rebellious and that the girls on the site are going against the norm, but what it comes down to is selling an imageand we all bought into it. You go thru the profiles and you see the same thoughts, Favourite TV ShowsI hate television...smash your tv...tv sucks etc. it's a canned response, it's the way this sect of our generation is supposed to act. We're supposed to hate TV, we're supposed to hate fashion and the radio. I'm not saying that everyone that hates the tely is parroting the sentiment, i'm just saying that not all tv is bad. Infact, some of it downright rocks: Six Feet Under, South Park, Law and Order SVU, the Daily Show.
We are sold rebellion...in tiny...incriments. If you remember a while ago, MTV was sponsoring a Korn tour, the tour was called Pop Sucks. We're apathetic because we've been sold everything, because our youth culture has been boiled down to Red Bull, studded belts, tattoos and hair dye. They made a Fight Club video game for Christ's sake. I'm not condoning apathy or trying to rationalize my own apathy, i'm just saying that i can completely understand why we're apathetic and, honestly, i cant think of a reason NOT to be. It's comfortable. It's easy. And damnit, it's hip.

But it still kills me when i go to a show and i see 8 or nine punks wearing the same studded belt and such.

Nice quote, btw. very few people quote "Singles" anymore

[Edited on Dec 03, 2004 7:14PM]

so...yr into, like, metal?
what's the next paper you haveta write?

so...how WERE the prehistoric cannibals different than modern cannibals...you know...besides the obvious tech-no-logic-al advances (ovens, microwaves, eating utensils, ketchup)?
and "slave-driver" is an outdated term. they prefer "masters" or "overseers". ahem.

oh my god...did you actually get the mankala reference or were you just being cute? i could've sworn NOBODY had ever heard of mankala (or as i call it, the best game--EVER!).

i usually apply apt heat to food i eat (usually), but i was hungry...and it didnt smell...er...it was just slimey...ok, i'll heat it next time.

@ j.lo.

uuuh, no more snow tomorrow! snow bad. is there anyway...you know...noone will MISS your work partner? i mean, does he have any family or friends--would you be top-o-the-list suspectwise? what i'm saying...is...maybe you can send him on a "vacation"...you know...er...

i dated a chick with a "Tank Girl" hair thing. it was interesting to say the least.

and i say "dated" in the les idiom, meaning we were "together" for a number of months before mankala and narcotics and sex became boring. and she liked j.lo.

"if motivation=compleation, then theres no need to go through with the act that requires the motivation....?"
that's where faith comes in, young jedi...oh...my...god, dude, i made a star wars ref and ive never even SEEN the star wars movies. this is what pop culture does to you! you absorb the shit thru yr skin and shite. you'll die and in your hair cells (hair cells?) they'll find the complete lyrics to the white album...
seriously, though, dont question my philosophy.

oh, yeah, and calm down. sleep more, drink less coffee, take a bong hit and chiiiiill. you cant die unless you've lived (yay! fortune cookie wisdom!). (i dunno if that's a monkey or not...could be a bear...i dunno)

[Edited on Nov 30, 2004 1:37AM]

I work with a guy so unlike me it works well. We pretty much stay out of eachother's way.

I worked two full time jobs and went to school and nearly killed myself by sleeping an hour, maybe two, a day and forgetting to eat for days on end.

Just be careful, kay? You've my full support.

gooood stuff
i hope you never take me too seriously, i enjoy crass and vulgar humor. and yuor rants are always good funny.

no worries, i never take people seriously (myself included)
you'd be surprised how many asinine people say asinine things when they take themselves seriously. one of my favourites: "actually, i USED to have an august birthday!" the chick that said that...my god, i should have thrown something at her...if i had a bagel and a sock...i swear to god...

[Edited on Nov 27, 2004 6:49PM]

whats with you and the bowie? what kind of liquor did you make off with? Hopefully you dont whip out the bowie whilst drinking liquortheres probably an after school special dedicating to drunk people playing with knives.
its my understanding that theres a fetish for EVERYTHINGincluding turkey scented girls
and penguins just creep me out. Not to the point of, like, hunting themjustthey move oddly.
still in peoria?

[Edited on Nov 25, 2004 11:25PM]

i was even carving the turkey with my bowie and doing shots at the same time.................
ok, i'm not that cool.