Garth brook’s cologne

•August 23, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Sunday moonday. I could have sworn the oaths were flipperplaying cons stealing change from the cashiers jar, ripped off right left and center, she was breaking up with some tongue in cheek simulation, and now they’re done sweeping the snow with their nostrils and kicked back to sweep the floor in Warren and son’s warehouse.

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Secular gun

•August 15, 2009 • Leave a Comment

This is not where the story begins?
Trains. Nighttime. Micklande. What do you say now? Surely there must be some option, some way out? Some sort of escape from these disgustingly narrow-minded half-witted fools? They’re not that special. They’re just loud. Most of them are, all the time. No, the working-class from the 50’s doesn’t exist anymore. My inuition tells me things aren’t what they used to be. They do run around. They can’t sit still. But they never actually move. They never really get anywhere.

Me, I’m just waiting for a swift kick to the head. If you head home at this hour in this area, you’ve got to be subtle in your route from safe-zone to danger-zone. Let’s see: Guy walks on his way home on his own, possibilities: Group of disgustingly narrow-minded half-witted fools wants your money or cigs. That or kick you. Another possibility, one for females:  Girl walks on her way home on her own, knife to the throat, in out in out in the bushes. Yes, there were some 5 of us. Somehow it seemed that, despite our obviousely destined paths (to home), we all seemed like… ants, wandering lost in the blackness.

Oh I know you don’t understand. As told, I’m a plant. Piss on me, I grow.

This is the day nobody dies

•August 3, 2009 • 2 Comments

I’ll have you know that I know what I’m doing. Mr. Leatherface – YOU’re the twisted one – not me. You’re the one who’s crazy, not me. I feel elated. You want something new to claim? Let me tell you just one thing before I leave – You couldn’t con me. You failed. There wasn’t enough fucking spunk in your attempts. Now can I sit down?

The one-legged pidgeon.

•July 27, 2009 • Leave a Comment

It sweeps through the air in a cold, silent whisper. Surrounded by sea, it’s hard to find a way that leads back home. It swiftly moves above the water. The sandgrains aren’t that far away; or so it hopes. But after all, much of what was there when this neverending quest began couldn’t possibly remain.

It dives beneath the water. And the smallest reflection of sun brightens up the nothing short of grandeur submerged dwelling. Everything is so different beneath the surface. So alive. So dynamic. So bizarre but yet so much more real. Real… As real as the day we learned how to swim. How to dive.

And the stars shimmering reminds the solitarian why they came to learn how to fly. In a world with so many moons there’s not much time until the tides turn. And the stars wave goodnight. A tired bird falls asleep.

A hundred billion lightyears away it’s washed up on the shore.
The ants. They’re all over me. On my wings, on my skin, in my mouth.
Soon the fullmoon. And they’ll devour my bones in my grave.

I am a hundred billion ants. I am the spiders you mash with your morning paper. I am the flock of sparrows that sweeps through the air. I am the insects eating away at your corpse. I am you.

Drink your pee

•June 2, 2009 • 1 Comment

The way I see it, the purpose of a blog is to use it as a medium to convey yourself in a way that you don’t force yourself unto others when it comes to things they may not want to talk about in the given moment.  Obviousely, there is no obligation to give any kind of response if you’re reading this, but there is in a conversation – if there’s no response – there’s no conversation, right? So the beauty of it is that I can spout out any kind of nonsense or bull in whatever fashion I wish, while still communicating with the outside world and not ramble to myself – but also I don’t get in your way – it’s brilliant.
I take it that’s why blogs are so popular, and effectively used.

That’s all I wanted to say. Have a good night!

Spatsiba

•June 1, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Ssssspatsiba.

Ok whatever. Plow yo moma. I’m in the zone. You can go fuck yourself for all I care.  Jesus H. Motherfucking christ what a hyped up glowing desert sun frying every square inch of our skin. And now the clouds are shaped like clowns molesting whales on the moon. These are just fragments of details you catch during your journeys. I’m not going back there, that’s for sure.

It’s progressing towards a more habitable environment. I think there’s an amount of comfort in heat. Fucking June. Fucking new world order.
My pary are with the moon, who lost its 15 minutes of fame in 5.

A few suggestions: Don’t open your windows. Insects WILL fly in.

A few other suggestions: Listen to these bands.
The Fall, Sebadoh, 65DaysOfStatic, At the drive-in, and Modest Mouse.
They are/were good bands. Whatever, moving on.

So I’ve got a “new” cellphone now. It got stuck in a circle. It took about 4 years to return. It’s a really old one. However, it _works_, and it has fucking Blackjack on it, so fuck you. A number where you can reach me, and Blackjack, that’s almost asking for too much. Oh crap, I’ve lost my MP3 player. Fine, you win. Fucking blisters on my foot.

The whole band thing was put on hiatus but is now up and running again.
Play your cards right and you won’t have to shuffle the deck.
The man who fails to plan is merely planning to fail.

So I was on the balcony playing guitar this afternoon and my cunt of a fucking cuntsucking bitch whore shitwanking neighbour is throwing passive-agressive notations in my face by stomping and closing her own balcony door a little more than loudly. My reply? Hardcore from my speakers with the bass to the max. You know it.

Anyways being the youngest is fucking bullshit. I’ve got a strategy going however, and every ounce of doubt will evaporate like a drip of water escalating from the pavement into nothingness. Oops, circulation. Fuck.

Arthritis in the eyesocket

•May 21, 2009 • Leave a Comment

In day, there was a leech, it was my speech, it was vulgar.
Sooner or later they’ll submerge us all. Break down and drive through.
They’re just kids, after all.