Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Hear that thumping?
Head Against Wall
Numerically dissected
Done up and chemically tested
Soul suckered and mother approved
Fed and bred into plastic tubes
Infected injected
Electro-shocked and bed-rested
Messed up family
But who gives?
We have pills for pain
And we're paid to live
Soothed and smoothed over
Used like tissues
And tossed
Lost in current
Affairs that care
'Bout the big picture
Profit and loss statement
Not just to make rent
Gimmick gimmick glimmer and joy
Life ain't quite life
Not without some new toy
Days spent selling hours
Silent stares in chemical showers
Glowering clockhands
Stand for
Is
This
The
End?
Currently watching :
Naked Lunch - Criterion Collection
Release date: By 11 November, 2003
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Saturday, April 14, 2007
My name's Wilson...
Four new movies in one day, one of which I watched twice and another which I watched three times, once with director's commentary. There's something very very right about a day allowing me to do that.
Currently watching :
The Limey
Release date: By 20 February, 2001
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Friday, April 13, 2007
More crap not to be read
I am in a wonderful mood today. 1 day left of community service, 3 interviews with people much more important than I am about film and a new paper topic on a Cronenberg film. GOD DAMN! DON'T FUCK WITH ME TODAY!
WILT
She is one of wonder
Who mixes sugar, blood and salt
Hiding heavy footsteps
In the rhythm of her waltz
Pay tithe to the angel
A girl who reads the wind
Who's telling of the ending
Before the tale begins
She's dancing testing
And tasting of the air
Touching tongue to finger
Find love hiding inside there
Broken, old and battered
Lay clattered around
And she's tipping up the bottles
Pouring their misery out
She's the sound of silence
A silly little thing
She knows only nothing
Because she's loving everything
LISTENER
You know it doesn't matter
But you buy it anyway
I'll give you what I've gotten
As long as you will
Stay
Shake shaking shatter
Tender brittle bones break
Like the bubbles in the bottle
Shake it up
Pouring out the puddles
The tears still stay to stain
Then you sop 'em up and stop 'em
And tell me my
Way
Take taking proper
Bitter circumstance
Turn the tables over
Spill me out
Currently listening :
Sloppy Seconds, Vol. 2
By Cunninlynguists
Release date: By 13 December, 2005
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Thursday, April 12, 2007
Let Them Eat Cake
There is this man.
This man stands in windowpanes
Selling himself and his shame for a dime
Of amnesia and pain
Can't get a job
So he lobs bombs over fences
Green grass landings
And on false pretences
The cops cuff and capture
The Terrorist Threat
And yet...
The Terror continues
In venues of fleshy green handshakes
Real life is taken and broken
Choked on whatever it is
When there is No Smoking
In bars and busses and palaces and streets
Displacement seemed the logical thing to do
Let them eat cake
And as for the man from the windowpane
The game's been played
Into the Iron and Concrete cage
Boils of puss and rage bubble up
And dissolve themselves in glass pipes
Spiked veins and rocks
The sign on the door says:
Villains Made Here.
Currently listening :
Frizzle Fry
By Primus
Release date: By 23 April, 2002
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Monday, April 09, 2007
Quit Calling Me
I want to take my veins and ravage them with the insane
Honesty which worlds forgot
Oooooooooh. You don't know a fucking thing
All you do is sing
While the ringing in your ears
It's supposed to tell something
LA! LA! LA!
Listen! You're out of tune! Dipshits.
And isn't insight supposed to be integral to this?
Couples who never kiss wish they could
They are so fucking boring
Snoring in the morning til 2 PM
And pretending to be your friend
Without extending an open heart
Just tools to trade their common lives
For the life of lives apart
They know nothing
And their dreams are stupid dull
Brains full of small ideas
Think they're big
Another trick so
Dig dig dig
You end in no no meaning
Nothing to me
If you think that
This is about You
This is
About You
You have nothing left to add
So fuck off.
Just so you know, I am out of the game. Even my "friends" not involved are making their way off my list of good numbers. For the most part, you can all go to fuck. Don't call me. Don't say hello. Whether for sake money, drugs or amusement, you are villains using my life for yourselves.
Caitlin is awesome. Nick and Kim are awesome. Brian, Andrew and Kelly are awesome. Liz is awesome. There are a few people else who are awesome but there are a few, and more than likely you know who you are. The rest of you can fuck off. Anybody got any Motown?
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Saturday, April 07, 2007
Fever dreams
Is it just me or has the world become so totally self-obsessed with education that the self-esteem of many American young people has slowly but surely come to revolve around a false measuring system of grade inflation, SAT scores and tuition payments? The level that this has gotten to, especially in a state as incestuous as good ol' GA, seems readily apparent in the recent acceptance issues at Ivy league schools. Observe
Harvard turned down 1,100 student applicants with perfect 800 scores on the SAT math exam. Yale rejected several applicants with perfect 2400 scores on the three-part SAT, and Princeton turned away thousands of high school applicants with 4.0 grade point averages. Needless to say, high school valedictorians were a dime a dozen.
It was the most selective spring in modern memory at America's elite schools, according to college admissions officers. More applications poured into top schools this admissions cycle than in any previous year on record. Schools have been sending decision letters to student applicants in recent days, and rejection letters have overwhelmingly outnumbered the acceptances.
Stanford received a record 23,956 undergraduate applications for the fall term, accepting 2,456 students, meaning the school took 10.3 percent of applicants.
Harvard College received applications from 22,955 students, another record, and accepted 2,058 of them, for an acceptance rate of 9 percent. The university called that "the lowest admit rate in Harvard's history."
Applications to Columbia numbered 18,081, and the college accepted 1,618 of them, for what was certainly one of the lowest acceptance rates this spring at an American university: 8.9 percent.
"There's a sense of collective shock among parents at seeing extraordinarily talented kids getting rejected," said Susan Gzesh, whose son Max Rothstein is a senior with an exemplary record at the Laboratory School, a private school associated with the University of Chicago. Max applied to 12 top schools and was accepted outright only by Wesleyan, New York University and the University of Michigan.
"Some of his classmates, with better test scores than his, were rejected at every Ivy League school," Ms. Gzesh said.
The brutally low acceptance rates this year were a result of an avalanche of applications to top schools, which college admissions officials attributed to three factors. First, a demographic bulge is working through the nation's population _ the children of the baby boomers are graduating from high school in record numbers. The federal Department of Education projects that 3.2 million students will graduate from high school this spring, compared with 3.1 million last year and 2.4 million in 1993. (The statistics project that the number of high school graduates will peak in 2008.) Another factor is that more high school students are enrolling in college immediately after high school. In the 1970s, less than half of all high school graduates went directly to college, compared with more than 60 percent today, said David Hawkins, a director at the National Association of College Admission Counseling.
The third trend driving the frantic competition is that the average college applicant applies to many more colleges than in past decades. In the 1960s, fewer than 2 percent of college freshmen had applied to six or more colleges, whereas in 2006 more than 2 percent reported having applied to 11 or more, according to The American Freshman: National Norms for Fall 2006, an annual report on a continuing long-term study published by the University of California, Los Angeles.
"Multiple applications per student," Mr. Hawkins said, "is a factor that exponentially crowds the college admissions environment."
One reason that students are filing more applications is the increasing use of the Common Application, a form that can be completed and filed via the Internet.
The ferocious competition at the most selective schools has not affected the overall acceptance rate at the rest of the nation's 2,500 four-year colleges and universities, which accept an average of 70 percent of applicants.
"That overall 70 percent acceptance rate hasn't changed since the 1980s," Mr. Hawkins said.
But with more and more students filling out ever more applications, schools like the California Institute of Technology received a record number of applications this year _ 3,595, or 8 percent more than last year _ and admitted 576 students. Among so many talented applicants, a prospective student with perfect SAT scores was not unusual, said Jill Perry, a Caltech spokeswoman.
"The successful students have to have shown some passion for science and technology in high school or their personal life," Ms. Perry said. "That means creating a computer system for your high school, or taking a tractor apart and putting it back together."
The competition was ferocious not only at the top universities, but at selective small colleges, like Williams, Bowdoin and Amherst, all of which reported record numbers of applications.
Amherst received 6,668 applications and accepted 1,167 students for its class of 2011, compared with the 4,491 applications and 1,030 acceptance letters it sent for the class of 2002 nine years ago, said Paul Statt, an Amherst spokesman.
"Many of us who went to Amherst three decades ago know we couldn't get in now; I know I couldn't," said Mr. Statt, who graduated from Amherst in 1978.
This is absurd. Education is inevitably reverting back to a process of self-indoctrination and control. After going through years and years of public schooling where I was told what a horrible person I would be if I did not go to college (exemplified by the actions of Nick Bilz his senior year and the conversations I overheard between him and Mrs. Martin) can anyone really be expected to retain any sense of self when the elitism of educators constructs egos around letter grades, obedience and sucking up? I can't stand it. This cannot be the way things are going.
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Monday, April 02, 2007
Rambozo
A clown is a clown when the lights are around
The sound of the stage and the soft, earthen ground
A performer for fun, for fans and delight
But where are the bright colors when the lights don't ignite?
A joke is a joke when it jumps from your throat
A jackrabbit joy to love and elope
All the laughter and glee while life has a lack
But what is it called when it waits at your back?
Smiles are smiles when they're tricks without guile
Cages of teeth to try to tease tender trials
To easier leaps and things we can beat
But is a smile a smile when you're down on your knees?
A clown is a clown when the spotlights go out
With a frown or a smile, the color's too loud
With no tales to tell or hands to hold
A clown's still a clown though the joke's growing old
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Saturday, March 31, 2007
et cetera
I am laughing at you.
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Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Stain
Left foot right foot left foot right foot
A dangerous refrain beat beat beat
From mountaintops into city blocks
Footsteps line in line - thought in thought
But not one left with the wild inside
Just footprints that we left behind
A stain of what's forgot
Ring ring ring of a satellite singing
Songs bringing one to one
(for a summary fee)
You can be you - in reference to me
A contract came in exchange for your name
Just sign along the dotted line
A stain of what's forgot
Bravery for honest fault
Fled for failure finding light
We might bring the moon to pierce the night
Stifled sun soon blinds the eye
While men still shun the sinful shade
A stain of what's forgot
Kids stand behind in desert heat
Waving lines to disguise while one by one
They boil and fall to their knees
Child by child, sin by sin
Winds dust the ashes to begin again
A stain of what's forgot
Boy Meets Girl
Things slow change
An old lady with a thousand coins
Saving face
A penny palmed will bring such boundless joy
Buck up girl and be glad you were not born a boy
Wake up man and quit dreaming that you're born a god
Seas still race
But in traffic things are standing still
Strung on bait
But around the line the ocean swells
Stay young boy and don't tear away the tales they tell
Run off girl and still wonder at the wishing well
Paper paid
Made a bribe to be a bigger man
Ticker tape
Tames the tides away from burning sand
So be glad boy for the time it takes to scar the hand
Be brave girl for no sanity can understand
Trade for time
Lust for lifetime we've had all along
Buying fate
While fate laughs and leaves us all alone
Buck up girl and be glad you were not born a boy
Wake up man and quit dreaming that you're born a god
Currently listening :
Angel Dust
By Faith No More
Release date: By 16 June, 1992
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Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Peter O'Tool sucks
Meryl Streep sucks. Madonna sucks. Ashton Kutcher sucks. Demi Moore kinda sucks. Jane Fonda rocks sometimes but sucks ass the rest. Brittany Murphy sucks. Lord of the Rings sucks immensely as a movie trilogy. Michael Moore sucks. Paul McCartney has sucked for a while. Jamie Lee Curtis sucks. Peaches sucks. Grrl rock sucks in general. Jenny McCarthy sucks. Val Kilmer sucks. The Warchowski brothers suck. And Pi still sucks no matter how much I try to like it.
Currently watching :
David Lean Boxed Set (Lawrence of Arabia/The Bridge on the River Kwai, Widescreen Editions)
Release date: By 29 August, 1995
Monday, March 26, 2007
A poem for my cat
A pillowcase denizen
Claws of four, eight, ten and then
The runt of the litter
A hisser and spitter
Tossed to the trash so we got to get her
I have your teeth dug deep in my arm
But that was always the charm
My girl
If I remember, I was just three
You grew up so much faster than me
Tearing new tracks up the family tree
I remember the hammock
Rocking back with the yowl of a cat
And a flurry and you were gone
My girl
Furious for powder made dust clouds in the air
A cat with no fleas and matted, white hair
Ears laid flat back
You hissed and you spat
But soon the track changed
My girl
Life ended changing in distance and time
Dug into deep south with bulldawgs on the mind
We'll stay still for now just to keep you from cars
Large as you get from staying indoors
We got you a yard didn't we?
Eventually
My girl
Hefty as a bag, we could drag you along
But you kept your four legs stable and strong
Despite new cards from the deck being drawn
You're the queen bitch
And best not forget
My girl
Little tiny invasion with not many brains
Brazen on toes and slightly insane came
And broke the daze
But you blazed on through
And did as you do
My girl
Finally seventeen and skinny
Bitch's bark now gone more personality winning
A purr gets a pet and you've not many left
A few last days of love as the time had been set
You knew, through your actions
It was time to go
So you walked to the forest
We watch out the door
My girl
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Sunday, March 25, 2007
R.I.P. Tippy the cat
Tippy died day before yesterday. She walked into the woods and never came out. She was 17, I think. And that's all there is to say about that.
Goodbye Miss Tip. You'll be missed.
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Los Angeles --or-- Radio is Dead
Category: Writing and Poetry
They say that women were a curse on the land
So they cruised along in caravans
Chancing for a spot of gold on the horizon
The sun they saw was the City of Angels
They sent out their men, boys poised to build a monument
Walled with light and glory spent
They dug in their high heels, squealing the bandwagon to a halt
Here their fancy boots made roots to keep the world together at the fault
The Big Shake wasn't to take their debut
Starlets drifted down, dancing on sandbags and rafters
They counted a half-dozen
Actresses with silent laughter pirouetting on a pinhead
Seamed and sewn together in silver
Beams bouncing off blank canvass with fame that makes like money
Running cups over in nonsense that tastes like wine
The angels turned their back to God with one finger up
"That's where you can stick it." Said she with the heart full of love
The sting lingered for a moment or more
But before better steps could be chosen among others
The clouds chained the gates with rattling rain
Staining them with alkylides and misery
The men below looked up to the glow of sunlight
Squinting to glimpse up the skirts of their saviors
They waved dirty dollars like cheap Sunday pimps
"Be somebody" And always, sooner or later
They were
So they shorn their wings for a shot at top billing
While a wonder beat blood into clouds
He yelled as loud as His word
But nobody heard him
Because radio is dead
Currently listening :
Another Day In Paradise: Music From The Larry Clark Film
By Various Artists
Release date: By 12 January, 1999
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For my hardships
I write stupid whiney shit almost every other day
I sigh and try to explain it in several different ways
I do it through bad poetry, I do it with a blog
I write cryptic and artistically, I sing it now in song
I'm a whiney blogger with an emo-do
I'd like an online stalker just to complain to
Abstain from conversation, I've some fat to chew
Because my life is hard and I'm much smarter than you
Long days ahead and I'll tell you for real
There's no stopping me and there is no appeal
Because melancholy bullshit has a world to reveal
It's my bread and butter, yeah my favorite meal
I'm a whiney blogger with an emo-do
I'd like an online stalker just to complain to
Abstain from conversation, I've some fat to chew
Because my life is hard and I'm much smarter than you
My mommy and my daddy pay me to stay alive
And not go veering off the road when I'm on 285
Though people would be cheering when I go for that drive
Until then I'll have to cheese you with a glass full of whine
I'm a whiney blogger with an emo-do
I'd like an online stalker just to complain to
Abstain from conversation, I've some fat to chew
Because my life is hard and I'm much smarter than you
I got an education and too much time on my hands
So I'll recite my revelations to anyone who can stand
So come and sing the chorus, you're a part of the band
They can't do nothing for us so let's all stand and chant
I'm a whiney blogger with an emo-do
I'd like an online stalker just to complain to
Abstain from conversation, I've some fat to chew
Because my life is hard and I'm much smarter than you
Teh done
Currently listening :
Both Sides of the Brain
By Del tha Funkee Homosapien
Release date: By 11 April, 2000
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Pulling point on potty patrol
PULLING POINT ON POTTY PATROL
Autopsy tour for Anna Nicole. I mean, I could've cared less if she died but what the hell?! Watched Ebert (Replaced by some attractive lady name Kim Morgan) and Roeper. Really?! Geezus. I hate everything, I can't even find the words to talk about it.
"BIBBITS AND THE NOD" or "JONESIN' FOR A GIRL NAMED L__"
N-n-n-n-nerves d-d-dancing
Rap tap on top my b-b-brain
N-n-n-n-nerves t-t-turning
t-t-t-to someone/thing i-i-i-i-i
please baby.
W-w-w-w-what's my name?
She t-t-t-touched me
Or him or w-w-who or
What's going on?
M-m-m-my parts
b-b-b-been broken
M-m-m-my heart's long gone
B-b-b-but b-b-b-baby
Why why why you tell me so
When I kn-n-n-now
I know nothing 'cept
I-i-i-i blown it long ag-g-go-go-go
D-d-dopin' on dead thoughts of love
Despite the following paragraphs, Miami is a beautiful place. It's like everything was an excavation site of fancy hotels, unearthed from four decades of beach sand to make a safe-haven for Frankie, the rat pack and their broads. It's old school Vegas without the gambling or free drinks. Our bathroom has a hot tub in it.
This vacation was supposed to be relaxing, but unfortunately all it's done is allow me an opportunity to think without distraction. This may seem silly, but averting myself from the world is the only way to keep me regular. I am going crazy trying to make friends with the random people around here. Friendliness is practically a character flaw with massive throngs of prepubescents sitting in circles and asking "are you a cop" of a guy with blue fucking hair.
Maybe it's just the east coast, but these people make me feel like the world should fucking burn. Malignancy is not a word, but a veritable state of mind.
How do you circumcise a redneck?
Kick his sister in the chin.
Conversations go like this (and yes, I am quoting exactly):
"Hey are there any interesting local brews around here?"
"No."
Bartender hands me a 43.50 tab (with included gratuity) for a total of one bloody mary, one jack daniels double, and one beer.
"Hey kids, can I chill with you guys?"
"How do we know we can trust you?"
"What? Um I guess the fact that I'm not a cop and I have blue hair. Want some whiskey?"
(secluded whispering amongst group)
"Sorry, we go to church."
!?what?!
I see 2 guys. One carrying a basket, one with a flashlight on his head.
"Hey guys, whatcha looking for?"
"Flatfish."
"Flatfish? Fuckin' a. What for?"
"Fuck off cabrone" (spelling on that one is probably off)
This pretty much extends itself into every attempt at conversation I've made in Miami. I feel like a tool but I don't know Jesus. Am I really that terrible to say hello to?
As a result, I went around looking for any beach merchandise not tied down and switched the hotels they belonged to. Didn't solve much but it felt better. It sucked not being able to deny the bartender a tip for his pissiness. He made a shitty ass bloody mary too.
I think I should quit drinking and smoking and start doing heroine. At least then there's some honesty in the community surrounding. No pretence of truthfulness with dope. A very American drug. It lies straight to your face and digs itself burrows in your veins.
I'm falling in love with almost every beautiful woman I see. Maybe it's the lack of clothing around here, but spring has definitely taken a hold of my brain.
That isn't the point though. Not at all. I realize I just want to be recognized in the same way I recognize them. I want to be wanted as egotistical as I know it is. I want to be wanted by someone I want just as much. I want to be on a level with who I desire. Which is virtually any skinny girl with a good story and eyes that don't remind me of mine.
Seriously. She can bitch and moan and spend my money as long as she cares. And has lots of good sex. Full of good sex, caring and reasonably intelligent. I can deal with the rest for the most part.
Oh, and she has to shave her legs and armpits. And she can't be into grrl rock. But these are discussion points to come up after all of the good sex obviously.
I think the only person I'll ever have loved is Caitlin. The part of me that could believe in emotional sincerity left a while after she did. Slowly but surely, the experiences separate themselves into a mass of unsatisfactory moments with myself as the star of the asshole parade and her as well, back then I thought she was perfect. I was a tool, but if I was still who I was then at least I could quit pretending I was okay and be miserable when I needed to be. I didn't know what about, but I used to let myself just be miserable for a while. I felt miserable until I could be happy for a few beautiful, cleansing inhales of life. And then
One track mind. Having dreams occasionally. Nebuchadnezzar broke the bottle in the bonfire and our ship burned burned burned burned.
The bathwater here is green before I get into it. I got to wash my ass with a bidet for the first time, it makes pooping fun.
I need to leave here. Not just Georgia-here but the east coast-here. And is it's the world that's the matter, then fuck it. I'll become the worst thing it has ever fucking seen. This country is a manufactory of villains. There is no choice but money. Just a bunch of white guys grabbing eachothers' dicks for a size comparison.
No wonder fratboys play bagtag and get business majors.
I'll write something bitchy to fix everything. You may now call me the dimestore savior. I'll give you a Tylenol for your tumor and pour whiskey with a straight-razored vein
I swear, I can make movies. And if I can't, I'll die trying.
LATER ON THAT WEEK
It's my grandmother's 90th birthday celebration and one of the first major family reunions we've ever had. My job is to be as absolutely weird as possible so that I can maybe, just maybe, not have anyone ask me about my fucking hair again.
It's great seeing everyone, though. Relatives I can't even classify and most of them entertaining out the bejeezus.
Saw 300. If that movie had lost every last attempt at dialogue, then it would have been perfect. Don't try and start acting when your movie's strong points revolve around dismemberment and arterial spray.
So much good beer. I am averaging 9 or so a day or tasty tasty wonderbrew. My body is not happy with me.
Currently watching :
Run Lola Run
Release date: By 06 June, 2000
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Thursday, March 08, 2007
This makes me feel funny inside
3:11 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Monday, March 05, 2007
I cant think of any good titles for things.
Jesus don't care, expecially about Britain
"Good God!" I exclaimed
Naming the blameless but always the blamed
Little has happened, everything changed
Perspectives particular to the size of the shame
No need look away from an invisible grief
To the death of the insect who lay underneath
Boogie Men
"Never ever never ever never ever!"
She shook her hair in golden parades
The waves trickling down to tickle her neck
beneath her
soft... soft....
Silk gown.
She says "no."
Yes?
Some shpeel about guns and stuff
Upon the conclusion of a vicious gun-battle of some sort or another:
Tissue surrounding the immediate area of a gunshot wound can seizure at such a speed that its movement is invisible to the human eye.
HE POKES ONE OF THE WOUNDS WITH THE END OF A LARGE FIELD KNIFE
The trauma inflicted by such a fierce, foreign and unexpected type of threat is almost impossible for the human body to cope with on any significant level. The destructive force of an exit wound is much more severe, however...
THERE IS GROANING AS HE STRESSES, ROLLING THE BODY OVER ON ITS SIDE
as the bullet has undergone many of a series of possible changes in its travels through the human body.
HE TAPS THE BROKEN WALL OF THE EXIT WOUND AT THE LOWER LEFT OF THE BODY'S BACK
It typically bursts the shell of musculature impeding its outward path from the target. But despite this level of ballistic carnage, the biology of a human being will allow a target to live for quite a long time after the incursion of such an injury.
HE PICKS UP A SHOTGUN FROM BESIDE THE BODY WHICH IS NOW BEGINNING TO STRUGGLE WEAKLY
One must disenfranchise themselves from the damage they cause or learn to enjoy it.
HE PLACES THE ENTIRE BARREL OF THE SHOTGUN INTO THE BODY'S EXIT-WOUND
Are you enjoying the pain now, Victor?
VICTOR SCREAMS AND EXPLODES FROM THE INSIDE AS THE SHOTGUN BARREL IS FORCED INTO HIS CHEST CAVITY AND IS DISCHARGED.
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Saturday, March 03, 2007
$XXX$
Okay, now I've not seen a television program outside of a drinking establishment in almost three or so months now. But did anyone know there's an erotic home shopping network? It has to be the funniest thing I've ever seen.
My dad drinks terrible booze. I want something better to steal.
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Friday, March 02, 2007
So I AM an american.
If anyone needs me I'll be in Atlanta - that phantom from the past. Last place expected but necessary and definately a very unnerving position to be in. I hate this place and yet return again and again. necessity moslty but maybe just a toasty warm place to stick my toes for a night or two beofre they turn frozen blue. I don't know. Free cable.
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Thursday, March 01, 2007
Notes on a haircut I didn't have today (or... P.S. Roger, has the swelling gone down?)
Clip clip clip clip. Nothing more terrifying
Than the sound of scissors
A crisp sheath of sound
Sharp as the steel of its teeth
Snip snip...
I feel like I'm gonna get whacked.
Currently listening :
Neon Golden
By The Notwist
Release date: By 25 February, 2003
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Buggery
Intense amount of bad things happening that are really not much within my control. Call me and leave messages. My phone will be off for the week. Also, Cunninglynguist show on friday night in atlanta. So fucking stoked. Leave messages. Seriously. I need to keep myself away from people to make sure this necessary bullshit attitude passes over private life. Leave messages. I will not be answering calls.
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Sunday, February 25, 2007
Addendum
And also, it's not that I'm ignoring you. My hearing is just shit and I haven't had a decent pair of glasses in ages. Plain and simple, my body is making sure that all I can do is best guess at a muffled voice and blurred face. And then I start drinking. I feel mean for being sensibly defective.
I've been going through my terrible CDs today. A whole spindle of bad taste that came before I heard "Kid A" playing in my sister's bedroom. Oh my god, was it beautiful. That album turned me onto music like Fight Club turned me on to movies. Anyway, the bad CDs include:
SOUNDTRACKS: Last Action Hero, Can't Hardly Wait, Wayne's World II, End of Days (fucking rediculously terrible Gov movie. I decided to buy the DVD for a dollar), Killer Kuts: the killer instinct soundtrack, Command and Conquer: Red Alert, both the Mortal Kombat movies and like 9 different Star Wars things.
Wow... that's... pretty bad.
Movies! Come watch them with me! Everyone is invited! I like watching movies!
Hear that thumping?
Head Against Wall
Numerically dissected
Done up and chemically tested
Soul suckered and mother approved
Fed and bred into plastic tubes
Infected injected
Electro-shocked and bed-rested
Messed up family
But who gives?
We have pills for pain
And we're paid to live
Soothed and smoothed over
Used like tissues
And tossed
Lost in current
Affairs that care
'Bout the big picture
Profit and loss statement
Not just to make rent
Gimmick gimmick glimmer and joy
Life ain't quite life
Not without some new toy
Days spent selling hours
Silent stares in chemical showers
Glowering clockhands
Stand for
Is
This
The
End?
Currently watching :
Naked Lunch - Criterion Collection
Release date: By 11 November, 2003
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Saturday, April 14, 2007
My name's Wilson...
Four new movies in one day, one of which I watched twice and another which I watched three times, once with director's commentary. There's something very very right about a day allowing me to do that.
Currently watching :
The Limey
Release date: By 20 February, 2001
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Friday, April 13, 2007
More crap not to be read
I am in a wonderful mood today. 1 day left of community service, 3 interviews with people much more important than I am about film and a new paper topic on a Cronenberg film. GOD DAMN! DON'T FUCK WITH ME TODAY!
WILT
She is one of wonder
Who mixes sugar, blood and salt
Hiding heavy footsteps
In the rhythm of her waltz
Pay tithe to the angel
A girl who reads the wind
Who's telling of the ending
Before the tale begins
She's dancing testing
And tasting of the air
Touching tongue to finger
Find love hiding inside there
Broken, old and battered
Lay clattered around
And she's tipping up the bottles
Pouring their misery out
She's the sound of silence
A silly little thing
She knows only nothing
Because she's loving everything
LISTENER
You know it doesn't matter
But you buy it anyway
I'll give you what I've gotten
As long as you will
Stay
Shake shaking shatter
Tender brittle bones break
Like the bubbles in the bottle
Shake it up
Pouring out the puddles
The tears still stay to stain
Then you sop 'em up and stop 'em
And tell me my
Way
Take taking proper
Bitter circumstance
Turn the tables over
Spill me out
Currently listening :
Sloppy Seconds, Vol. 2
By Cunninlynguists
Release date: By 13 December, 2005
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Thursday, April 12, 2007
Let Them Eat Cake
There is this man.
This man stands in windowpanes
Selling himself and his shame for a dime
Of amnesia and pain
Can't get a job
So he lobs bombs over fences
Green grass landings
And on false pretences
The cops cuff and capture
The Terrorist Threat
And yet...
The Terror continues
In venues of fleshy green handshakes
Real life is taken and broken
Choked on whatever it is
When there is No Smoking
In bars and busses and palaces and streets
Displacement seemed the logical thing to do
Let them eat cake
And as for the man from the windowpane
The game's been played
Into the Iron and Concrete cage
Boils of puss and rage bubble up
And dissolve themselves in glass pipes
Spiked veins and rocks
The sign on the door says:
Villains Made Here.
Currently listening :
Frizzle Fry
By Primus
Release date: By 23 April, 2002
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Monday, April 09, 2007
Quit Calling Me
I want to take my veins and ravage them with the insane
Honesty which worlds forgot
Oooooooooh. You don't know a fucking thing
All you do is sing
While the ringing in your ears
It's supposed to tell something
LA! LA! LA!
Listen! You're out of tune! Dipshits.
And isn't insight supposed to be integral to this?
Couples who never kiss wish they could
They are so fucking boring
Snoring in the morning til 2 PM
And pretending to be your friend
Without extending an open heart
Just tools to trade their common lives
For the life of lives apart
They know nothing
And their dreams are stupid dull
Brains full of small ideas
Think they're big
Another trick so
Dig dig dig
You end in no no meaning
Nothing to me
If you think that
This is about You
This is
About You
You have nothing left to add
So fuck off.
Just so you know, I am out of the game. Even my "friends" not involved are making their way off my list of good numbers. For the most part, you can all go to fuck. Don't call me. Don't say hello. Whether for sake money, drugs or amusement, you are villains using my life for yourselves.
Caitlin is awesome. Nick and Kim are awesome. Brian, Andrew and Kelly are awesome. Liz is awesome. There are a few people else who are awesome but there are a few, and more than likely you know who you are. The rest of you can fuck off. Anybody got any Motown?
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Saturday, April 07, 2007
Fever dreams
Is it just me or has the world become so totally self-obsessed with education that the self-esteem of many American young people has slowly but surely come to revolve around a false measuring system of grade inflation, SAT scores and tuition payments? The level that this has gotten to, especially in a state as incestuous as good ol' GA, seems readily apparent in the recent acceptance issues at Ivy league schools. Observe
Harvard turned down 1,100 student applicants with perfect 800 scores on the SAT math exam. Yale rejected several applicants with perfect 2400 scores on the three-part SAT, and Princeton turned away thousands of high school applicants with 4.0 grade point averages. Needless to say, high school valedictorians were a dime a dozen.
It was the most selective spring in modern memory at America's elite schools, according to college admissions officers. More applications poured into top schools this admissions cycle than in any previous year on record. Schools have been sending decision letters to student applicants in recent days, and rejection letters have overwhelmingly outnumbered the acceptances.
Stanford received a record 23,956 undergraduate applications for the fall term, accepting 2,456 students, meaning the school took 10.3 percent of applicants.
Harvard College received applications from 22,955 students, another record, and accepted 2,058 of them, for an acceptance rate of 9 percent. The university called that "the lowest admit rate in Harvard's history."
Applications to Columbia numbered 18,081, and the college accepted 1,618 of them, for what was certainly one of the lowest acceptance rates this spring at an American university: 8.9 percent.
"There's a sense of collective shock among parents at seeing extraordinarily talented kids getting rejected," said Susan Gzesh, whose son Max Rothstein is a senior with an exemplary record at the Laboratory School, a private school associated with the University of Chicago. Max applied to 12 top schools and was accepted outright only by Wesleyan, New York University and the University of Michigan.
"Some of his classmates, with better test scores than his, were rejected at every Ivy League school," Ms. Gzesh said.
The brutally low acceptance rates this year were a result of an avalanche of applications to top schools, which college admissions officials attributed to three factors. First, a demographic bulge is working through the nation's population _ the children of the baby boomers are graduating from high school in record numbers. The federal Department of Education projects that 3.2 million students will graduate from high school this spring, compared with 3.1 million last year and 2.4 million in 1993. (The statistics project that the number of high school graduates will peak in 2008.) Another factor is that more high school students are enrolling in college immediately after high school. In the 1970s, less than half of all high school graduates went directly to college, compared with more than 60 percent today, said David Hawkins, a director at the National Association of College Admission Counseling.
The third trend driving the frantic competition is that the average college applicant applies to many more colleges than in past decades. In the 1960s, fewer than 2 percent of college freshmen had applied to six or more colleges, whereas in 2006 more than 2 percent reported having applied to 11 or more, according to The American Freshman: National Norms for Fall 2006, an annual report on a continuing long-term study published by the University of California, Los Angeles.
"Multiple applications per student," Mr. Hawkins said, "is a factor that exponentially crowds the college admissions environment."
One reason that students are filing more applications is the increasing use of the Common Application, a form that can be completed and filed via the Internet.
The ferocious competition at the most selective schools has not affected the overall acceptance rate at the rest of the nation's 2,500 four-year colleges and universities, which accept an average of 70 percent of applicants.
"That overall 70 percent acceptance rate hasn't changed since the 1980s," Mr. Hawkins said.
But with more and more students filling out ever more applications, schools like the California Institute of Technology received a record number of applications this year _ 3,595, or 8 percent more than last year _ and admitted 576 students. Among so many talented applicants, a prospective student with perfect SAT scores was not unusual, said Jill Perry, a Caltech spokeswoman.
"The successful students have to have shown some passion for science and technology in high school or their personal life," Ms. Perry said. "That means creating a computer system for your high school, or taking a tractor apart and putting it back together."
The competition was ferocious not only at the top universities, but at selective small colleges, like Williams, Bowdoin and Amherst, all of which reported record numbers of applications.
Amherst received 6,668 applications and accepted 1,167 students for its class of 2011, compared with the 4,491 applications and 1,030 acceptance letters it sent for the class of 2002 nine years ago, said Paul Statt, an Amherst spokesman.
"Many of us who went to Amherst three decades ago know we couldn't get in now; I know I couldn't," said Mr. Statt, who graduated from Amherst in 1978.
This is absurd. Education is inevitably reverting back to a process of self-indoctrination and control. After going through years and years of public schooling where I was told what a horrible person I would be if I did not go to college (exemplified by the actions of Nick Bilz his senior year and the conversations I overheard between him and Mrs. Martin) can anyone really be expected to retain any sense of self when the elitism of educators constructs egos around letter grades, obedience and sucking up? I can't stand it. This cannot be the way things are going.
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Monday, April 02, 2007
Rambozo
A clown is a clown when the lights are around
The sound of the stage and the soft, earthen ground
A performer for fun, for fans and delight
But where are the bright colors when the lights don't ignite?
A joke is a joke when it jumps from your throat
A jackrabbit joy to love and elope
All the laughter and glee while life has a lack
But what is it called when it waits at your back?
Smiles are smiles when they're tricks without guile
Cages of teeth to try to tease tender trials
To easier leaps and things we can beat
But is a smile a smile when you're down on your knees?
A clown is a clown when the spotlights go out
With a frown or a smile, the color's too loud
With no tales to tell or hands to hold
A clown's still a clown though the joke's growing old
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Saturday, March 31, 2007
et cetera
I am laughing at you.
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Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Stain
Left foot right foot left foot right foot
A dangerous refrain beat beat beat
From mountaintops into city blocks
Footsteps line in line - thought in thought
But not one left with the wild inside
Just footprints that we left behind
A stain of what's forgot
Ring ring ring of a satellite singing
Songs bringing one to one
(for a summary fee)
You can be you - in reference to me
A contract came in exchange for your name
Just sign along the dotted line
A stain of what's forgot
Bravery for honest fault
Fled for failure finding light
We might bring the moon to pierce the night
Stifled sun soon blinds the eye
While men still shun the sinful shade
A stain of what's forgot
Kids stand behind in desert heat
Waving lines to disguise while one by one
They boil and fall to their knees
Child by child, sin by sin
Winds dust the ashes to begin again
A stain of what's forgot
Boy Meets Girl
Things slow change
An old lady with a thousand coins
Saving face
A penny palmed will bring such boundless joy
Buck up girl and be glad you were not born a boy
Wake up man and quit dreaming that you're born a god
Seas still race
But in traffic things are standing still
Strung on bait
But around the line the ocean swells
Stay young boy and don't tear away the tales they tell
Run off girl and still wonder at the wishing well
Paper paid
Made a bribe to be a bigger man
Ticker tape
Tames the tides away from burning sand
So be glad boy for the time it takes to scar the hand
Be brave girl for no sanity can understand
Trade for time
Lust for lifetime we've had all along
Buying fate
While fate laughs and leaves us all alone
Buck up girl and be glad you were not born a boy
Wake up man and quit dreaming that you're born a god
Currently listening :
Angel Dust
By Faith No More
Release date: By 16 June, 1992
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Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Peter O'Tool sucks
Meryl Streep sucks. Madonna sucks. Ashton Kutcher sucks. Demi Moore kinda sucks. Jane Fonda rocks sometimes but sucks ass the rest. Brittany Murphy sucks. Lord of the Rings sucks immensely as a movie trilogy. Michael Moore sucks. Paul McCartney has sucked for a while. Jamie Lee Curtis sucks. Peaches sucks. Grrl rock sucks in general. Jenny McCarthy sucks. Val Kilmer sucks. The Warchowski brothers suck. And Pi still sucks no matter how much I try to like it.
Currently watching :
David Lean Boxed Set (Lawrence of Arabia/The Bridge on the River Kwai, Widescreen Editions)
Release date: By 29 August, 1995
Monday, March 26, 2007
A poem for my cat
A pillowcase denizen
Claws of four, eight, ten and then
The runt of the litter
A hisser and spitter
Tossed to the trash so we got to get her
I have your teeth dug deep in my arm
But that was always the charm
My girl
If I remember, I was just three
You grew up so much faster than me
Tearing new tracks up the family tree
I remember the hammock
Rocking back with the yowl of a cat
And a flurry and you were gone
My girl
Furious for powder made dust clouds in the air
A cat with no fleas and matted, white hair
Ears laid flat back
You hissed and you spat
But soon the track changed
My girl
Life ended changing in distance and time
Dug into deep south with bulldawgs on the mind
We'll stay still for now just to keep you from cars
Large as you get from staying indoors
We got you a yard didn't we?
Eventually
My girl
Hefty as a bag, we could drag you along
But you kept your four legs stable and strong
Despite new cards from the deck being drawn
You're the queen bitch
And best not forget
My girl
Little tiny invasion with not many brains
Brazen on toes and slightly insane came
And broke the daze
But you blazed on through
And did as you do
My girl
Finally seventeen and skinny
Bitch's bark now gone more personality winning
A purr gets a pet and you've not many left
A few last days of love as the time had been set
You knew, through your actions
It was time to go
So you walked to the forest
We watch out the door
My girl
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Sunday, March 25, 2007
R.I.P. Tippy the cat
Tippy died day before yesterday. She walked into the woods and never came out. She was 17, I think. And that's all there is to say about that.
Goodbye Miss Tip. You'll be missed.
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Los Angeles --or-- Radio is Dead
Category: Writing and Poetry
They say that women were a curse on the land
So they cruised along in caravans
Chancing for a spot of gold on the horizon
The sun they saw was the City of Angels
They sent out their men, boys poised to build a monument
Walled with light and glory spent
They dug in their high heels, squealing the bandwagon to a halt
Here their fancy boots made roots to keep the world together at the fault
The Big Shake wasn't to take their debut
Starlets drifted down, dancing on sandbags and rafters
They counted a half-dozen
Actresses with silent laughter pirouetting on a pinhead
Seamed and sewn together in silver
Beams bouncing off blank canvass with fame that makes like money
Running cups over in nonsense that tastes like wine
The angels turned their back to God with one finger up
"That's where you can stick it." Said she with the heart full of love
The sting lingered for a moment or more
But before better steps could be chosen among others
The clouds chained the gates with rattling rain
Staining them with alkylides and misery
The men below looked up to the glow of sunlight
Squinting to glimpse up the skirts of their saviors
They waved dirty dollars like cheap Sunday pimps
"Be somebody" And always, sooner or later
They were
So they shorn their wings for a shot at top billing
While a wonder beat blood into clouds
He yelled as loud as His word
But nobody heard him
Because radio is dead
Currently listening :
Another Day In Paradise: Music From The Larry Clark Film
By Various Artists
Release date: By 12 January, 1999
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For my hardships
I write stupid whiney shit almost every other day
I sigh and try to explain it in several different ways
I do it through bad poetry, I do it with a blog
I write cryptic and artistically, I sing it now in song
I'm a whiney blogger with an emo-do
I'd like an online stalker just to complain to
Abstain from conversation, I've some fat to chew
Because my life is hard and I'm much smarter than you
Long days ahead and I'll tell you for real
There's no stopping me and there is no appeal
Because melancholy bullshit has a world to reveal
It's my bread and butter, yeah my favorite meal
I'm a whiney blogger with an emo-do
I'd like an online stalker just to complain to
Abstain from conversation, I've some fat to chew
Because my life is hard and I'm much smarter than you
My mommy and my daddy pay me to stay alive
And not go veering off the road when I'm on 285
Though people would be cheering when I go for that drive
Until then I'll have to cheese you with a glass full of whine
I'm a whiney blogger with an emo-do
I'd like an online stalker just to complain to
Abstain from conversation, I've some fat to chew
Because my life is hard and I'm much smarter than you
I got an education and too much time on my hands
So I'll recite my revelations to anyone who can stand
So come and sing the chorus, you're a part of the band
They can't do nothing for us so let's all stand and chant
I'm a whiney blogger with an emo-do
I'd like an online stalker just to complain to
Abstain from conversation, I've some fat to chew
Because my life is hard and I'm much smarter than you
Teh done
Currently listening :
Both Sides of the Brain
By Del tha Funkee Homosapien
Release date: By 11 April, 2000
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Pulling point on potty patrol
PULLING POINT ON POTTY PATROL
Autopsy tour for Anna Nicole. I mean, I could've cared less if she died but what the hell?! Watched Ebert (Replaced by some attractive lady name Kim Morgan) and Roeper. Really?! Geezus. I hate everything, I can't even find the words to talk about it.
"BIBBITS AND THE NOD" or "JONESIN' FOR A GIRL NAMED L__"
N-n-n-n-nerves d-d-dancing
Rap tap on top my b-b-brain
N-n-n-n-nerves t-t-turning
t-t-t-to someone/thing i-i-i-i-i
please baby.
W-w-w-w-what's my name?
She t-t-t-touched me
Or him or w-w-who or
What's going on?
M-m-m-my parts
b-b-b-been broken
M-m-m-my heart's long gone
B-b-b-but b-b-b-baby
Why why why you tell me so
When I kn-n-n-now
I know nothing 'cept
I-i-i-i blown it long ag-g-go-go-go
D-d-dopin' on dead thoughts of love
Despite the following paragraphs, Miami is a beautiful place. It's like everything was an excavation site of fancy hotels, unearthed from four decades of beach sand to make a safe-haven for Frankie, the rat pack and their broads. It's old school Vegas without the gambling or free drinks. Our bathroom has a hot tub in it.
This vacation was supposed to be relaxing, but unfortunately all it's done is allow me an opportunity to think without distraction. This may seem silly, but averting myself from the world is the only way to keep me regular. I am going crazy trying to make friends with the random people around here. Friendliness is practically a character flaw with massive throngs of prepubescents sitting in circles and asking "are you a cop" of a guy with blue fucking hair.
Maybe it's just the east coast, but these people make me feel like the world should fucking burn. Malignancy is not a word, but a veritable state of mind.
How do you circumcise a redneck?
Kick his sister in the chin.
Conversations go like this (and yes, I am quoting exactly):
"Hey are there any interesting local brews around here?"
"No."
Bartender hands me a 43.50 tab (with included gratuity) for a total of one bloody mary, one jack daniels double, and one beer.
"Hey kids, can I chill with you guys?"
"How do we know we can trust you?"
"What? Um I guess the fact that I'm not a cop and I have blue hair. Want some whiskey?"
(secluded whispering amongst group)
"Sorry, we go to church."
!?what?!
I see 2 guys. One carrying a basket, one with a flashlight on his head.
"Hey guys, whatcha looking for?"
"Flatfish."
"Flatfish? Fuckin' a. What for?"
"Fuck off cabrone" (spelling on that one is probably off)
This pretty much extends itself into every attempt at conversation I've made in Miami. I feel like a tool but I don't know Jesus. Am I really that terrible to say hello to?
As a result, I went around looking for any beach merchandise not tied down and switched the hotels they belonged to. Didn't solve much but it felt better. It sucked not being able to deny the bartender a tip for his pissiness. He made a shitty ass bloody mary too.
I think I should quit drinking and smoking and start doing heroine. At least then there's some honesty in the community surrounding. No pretence of truthfulness with dope. A very American drug. It lies straight to your face and digs itself burrows in your veins.
I'm falling in love with almost every beautiful woman I see. Maybe it's the lack of clothing around here, but spring has definitely taken a hold of my brain.
That isn't the point though. Not at all. I realize I just want to be recognized in the same way I recognize them. I want to be wanted as egotistical as I know it is. I want to be wanted by someone I want just as much. I want to be on a level with who I desire. Which is virtually any skinny girl with a good story and eyes that don't remind me of mine.
Seriously. She can bitch and moan and spend my money as long as she cares. And has lots of good sex. Full of good sex, caring and reasonably intelligent. I can deal with the rest for the most part.
Oh, and she has to shave her legs and armpits. And she can't be into grrl rock. But these are discussion points to come up after all of the good sex obviously.
I think the only person I'll ever have loved is Caitlin. The part of me that could believe in emotional sincerity left a while after she did. Slowly but surely, the experiences separate themselves into a mass of unsatisfactory moments with myself as the star of the asshole parade and her as well, back then I thought she was perfect. I was a tool, but if I was still who I was then at least I could quit pretending I was okay and be miserable when I needed to be. I didn't know what about, but I used to let myself just be miserable for a while. I felt miserable until I could be happy for a few beautiful, cleansing inhales of life. And then
One track mind. Having dreams occasionally. Nebuchadnezzar broke the bottle in the bonfire and our ship burned burned burned burned.
The bathwater here is green before I get into it. I got to wash my ass with a bidet for the first time, it makes pooping fun.
I need to leave here. Not just Georgia-here but the east coast-here. And is it's the world that's the matter, then fuck it. I'll become the worst thing it has ever fucking seen. This country is a manufactory of villains. There is no choice but money. Just a bunch of white guys grabbing eachothers' dicks for a size comparison.
No wonder fratboys play bagtag and get business majors.
I'll write something bitchy to fix everything. You may now call me the dimestore savior. I'll give you a Tylenol for your tumor and pour whiskey with a straight-razored vein
I swear, I can make movies. And if I can't, I'll die trying.
LATER ON THAT WEEK
It's my grandmother's 90th birthday celebration and one of the first major family reunions we've ever had. My job is to be as absolutely weird as possible so that I can maybe, just maybe, not have anyone ask me about my fucking hair again.
It's great seeing everyone, though. Relatives I can't even classify and most of them entertaining out the bejeezus.
Saw 300. If that movie had lost every last attempt at dialogue, then it would have been perfect. Don't try and start acting when your movie's strong points revolve around dismemberment and arterial spray.
So much good beer. I am averaging 9 or so a day or tasty tasty wonderbrew. My body is not happy with me.
Currently watching :
Run Lola Run
Release date: By 06 June, 2000
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Thursday, March 08, 2007
This makes me feel funny inside
3:11 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Monday, March 05, 2007
I cant think of any good titles for things.
Jesus don't care, expecially about Britain
"Good God!" I exclaimed
Naming the blameless but always the blamed
Little has happened, everything changed
Perspectives particular to the size of the shame
No need look away from an invisible grief
To the death of the insect who lay underneath
Boogie Men
"Never ever never ever never ever!"
She shook her hair in golden parades
The waves trickling down to tickle her neck
beneath her
soft... soft....
Silk gown.
She says "no."
Yes?
Some shpeel about guns and stuff
Upon the conclusion of a vicious gun-battle of some sort or another:
Tissue surrounding the immediate area of a gunshot wound can seizure at such a speed that its movement is invisible to the human eye.
HE POKES ONE OF THE WOUNDS WITH THE END OF A LARGE FIELD KNIFE
The trauma inflicted by such a fierce, foreign and unexpected type of threat is almost impossible for the human body to cope with on any significant level. The destructive force of an exit wound is much more severe, however...
THERE IS GROANING AS HE STRESSES, ROLLING THE BODY OVER ON ITS SIDE
as the bullet has undergone many of a series of possible changes in its travels through the human body.
HE TAPS THE BROKEN WALL OF THE EXIT WOUND AT THE LOWER LEFT OF THE BODY'S BACK
It typically bursts the shell of musculature impeding its outward path from the target. But despite this level of ballistic carnage, the biology of a human being will allow a target to live for quite a long time after the incursion of such an injury.
HE PICKS UP A SHOTGUN FROM BESIDE THE BODY WHICH IS NOW BEGINNING TO STRUGGLE WEAKLY
One must disenfranchise themselves from the damage they cause or learn to enjoy it.
HE PLACES THE ENTIRE BARREL OF THE SHOTGUN INTO THE BODY'S EXIT-WOUND
Are you enjoying the pain now, Victor?
VICTOR SCREAMS AND EXPLODES FROM THE INSIDE AS THE SHOTGUN BARREL IS FORCED INTO HIS CHEST CAVITY AND IS DISCHARGED.
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Saturday, March 03, 2007
$XXX$
Okay, now I've not seen a television program outside of a drinking establishment in almost three or so months now. But did anyone know there's an erotic home shopping network? It has to be the funniest thing I've ever seen.
My dad drinks terrible booze. I want something better to steal.
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Friday, March 02, 2007
So I AM an american.
If anyone needs me I'll be in Atlanta - that phantom from the past. Last place expected but necessary and definately a very unnerving position to be in. I hate this place and yet return again and again. necessity moslty but maybe just a toasty warm place to stick my toes for a night or two beofre they turn frozen blue. I don't know. Free cable.
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Thursday, March 01, 2007
Notes on a haircut I didn't have today (or... P.S. Roger, has the swelling gone down?)
Clip clip clip clip. Nothing more terrifying
Than the sound of scissors
A crisp sheath of sound
Sharp as the steel of its teeth
Snip snip...
I feel like I'm gonna get whacked.
Currently listening :
Neon Golden
By The Notwist
Release date: By 25 February, 2003
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Buggery
Intense amount of bad things happening that are really not much within my control. Call me and leave messages. My phone will be off for the week. Also, Cunninglynguist show on friday night in atlanta. So fucking stoked. Leave messages. Seriously. I need to keep myself away from people to make sure this necessary bullshit attitude passes over private life. Leave messages. I will not be answering calls.
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Sunday, February 25, 2007
Addendum
And also, it's not that I'm ignoring you. My hearing is just shit and I haven't had a decent pair of glasses in ages. Plain and simple, my body is making sure that all I can do is best guess at a muffled voice and blurred face. And then I start drinking. I feel mean for being sensibly defective.
I've been going through my terrible CDs today. A whole spindle of bad taste that came before I heard "Kid A" playing in my sister's bedroom. Oh my god, was it beautiful. That album turned me onto music like Fight Club turned me on to movies. Anyway, the bad CDs include:
SOUNDTRACKS: Last Action Hero, Can't Hardly Wait, Wayne's World II, End of Days (fucking rediculously terrible Gov movie. I decided to buy the DVD for a dollar), Killer Kuts: the killer instinct soundtrack, Command and Conquer: Red Alert, both the Mortal Kombat movies and like 9 different Star Wars things.
Wow... that's... pretty bad.
Movies! Come watch them with me! Everyone is invited! I like watching movies!
sindri:
