Friday, October 09, 2009
I remain optomystical. These things, they make me remember the joys in life: not sleeping for four days, the warm feel of a five dollar machete handle as I lie in wake waiting for that oportune moment when they barge through the door and I decapitate them, thus proving to my ex-girlfriend that I’m not really scared, I’m just looking out for our safety.
Waking up in the kitchen, fully clothed clutching the machete wondering what day of the week it is and whether or not I’ve depleted the liquor store’s supply of 211.
She won’t share her drugs with me, her family hates me, and I don’t really understand how much money they invest in helicopters in Hollywood. Supposedly, they’re not really helicopters. It’s “auditory” hallucinations due to no sleep and lots of drugs.
I eat stuff though, . . . sometimes. Snickers bars, and the rolls of mini donuts coated in chocalate.
I’m scared to go outside. I go to Rite Aid a lot. Just to look at girls. and buy Natural Ice and Halloween candy that I just eat myself.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
so well. I wake up in the morning, and it takes me all of two seconds to approach the fridge, get some beers, grab my book, and read the living fuck out of it. It doesn’t even matter if it’s good. I’m totally obsessed with books. It’s delicious. It’s the best diversion in the world. What does that have to do with my mother? It’s that guilt like I’m not being good because I’m not fucking anybody. I hear her voice in the back of my head telling me I’m doing something wrong. “Ma! I just want to sit here and read and work and get drunk for a little while!” The last time I checked, there’s nothing wrong with it. I go to work, and I get completely filthy, and I don’t want to clean up. I go to the store, buy a bunch of beer, get naked, and get drunk and read until four in the morning. I feel bad for the future library patrons that happen to read the same book with my greasy fingerprints and I feel bad for my mother for disappointing her so much. But, I like it!!! Yes! Yes! Yes! This book I’m reading right now is so Anti-Anti-Semitic. And, my father in San Jose a practicing Jew, that’s so confusing to me. I was raised a complete Atheist by both of my parents. It’s probably the only thing that my parents had in common besides having the same son. Now, I’m bewildered. And, my guts hurt so bad. I get some relief, and my sheets stink. And, I know girls won’t like that, and I should go wash them, but I like being pathetic scum. I had a dream last night, there was the imminent nuclear warm coming and girls wanting to fuck me, and I liked it because I’m trained to like it. It’s the only feeling of self worth I’ve ever allowed myself throughout everything. There were sea creatures that could kill us all, and I lost everything. My backpack, and all the beer. My drug dealer wouldn’t answer his phone, and somebody stold the wheels off my bike. I was upset back in Texas. There was nowhere to turn. Nobody to turn to. I had shunned everyone and was so sad. So sad, but the second I awoke, everything was right where I had left it .
Monday, October 19, 2009
For Whom the Bell Tolls
Most definitely, I would’ve given my life during the Civil War. If given the opportunity to fight for Anarchism using physical violence. It’s a no-brainer. And I would’ve never had a vasectomy.
Intentional constsnt6 babies, and once they’re the age of 8, you’re picking up a gun and fighting alongside me. La lucha nunca terminara. No matter how bad you want it to
Get your priorties in perspective. “We’re going to kill a whole lot of motherfuckers.” Those would be my exact words. “in the goriest way possible.
With horses and shotguns.
