|
| Theres saxaphones in the city and a banjo on a wall. The dust mites of sun rays quiet lust gives me the sigh of a girl with big watery eyes cartoons from 1928 and a dark green automobile made of steel and body parts drives Jean Harlow to Heartattack and Vine for a vile of blow served up by Chuck E. Weiss himself. The Tropicana Motel was my home for only a few months but Tom always wanted me to get drunk with him and he always had a girl for me to take upstairs to cry to about my ex. And yeah i shot stuff in my desolate loneliness hoping to forget those deep feelings that seem to always overpower me unless ive ingested some sort of altering mass of physical infinity deepening the void inside me and spreading me out like whore legs or chewed up food spat from obese mouth onto face and into space empty around her huge form sweating and sticky in all crevices of her once sensual body. Gone to shit from low self esteem and lack of self awareness. And so what if im addled and a bit nervous i aint tryin to be anything but alive and learning from each day regardless of stupidity or anxiety or beauty. I know all i want to do is sing and dance and write words from my slowly dying mind where my imagination has changed or faded, im not sure which or how much of one or the other, regardless i want to spread joy and love and the immense comedy that is existing somewhere sometime with others ganged up around you wondering why and not listening to a word i said. Its okay though i hear all they say and it just goes to show they are happier talking than listening and as they try to get through they get louder and louder trying to overpower the other and verbally quiet them with their drunken opinion and flimsy facts always changing and slightly varying from mind to mind. And i have no idea where i am in others minds, i never really took the time to ponder such i have no idea how people and friends REALLY feel about me cause i know theres always some percent of bullshit in the verbal servings my ears eat, i know cause it comes out when i clean my ears which i have to do more and more often as the bullshit starts to overpower the tasty truths of their sentences. It dont bother me none im just here to shed light and not to master. At this tyme i am working hard and making 25 dollars an hour and am outside all day with pills in my belly and a doobie waiting in the ride. Im all dumb for modern broads as shitty as they are usually i cant get enough of their tits hanging out and the smell of wet cunt makes me intoxicated and i cant get enough like its fucking methamphetamines which are in no way even close to pussy lickin and stickin. The music fills the area of my mind and the shows go all night and all day and the images and stories and everything come in and out as they please as braindead as i am anymore i still cant get enough of ideas and stories and scenes throughout tyme and single moments in time are real as can be in my mind still like a photograph of somewhere ive never been in a time i didnt exist in yet and unseen but thick around the image is the associations in all form that compose the mental sight so richly and simply complex that words can no longer describle the things rolling through my fuzzy aged mind riddled with useless facts and endless anythings to give to anyone for whatever may be needed. Where was i? Eh fuck it Tom Tom Club is on Wordy Rappinghood the jam of jams about words im smitten bitch. | | |
| Free cereal at someone s school.
I have been getting very severe head rushes whenever i stand up. Most of them are to the point where my vision goes all black and i can see long black and rainbow glowing tubes textured with octopus suction cups. It has been going on for i believe two or two and a half months slowly getting worse. Now, its to the point where i lose my vision head rush when i stand up after taking a shit. I dont know whats wrong with me. And when i bend over my chest and heart hurt somewhat. Im dying or something. I exercise mostly every day and i eat pretty decent these days, its gotten easier to do things for myself after having to take care of someone else for a year. I guess i just couldn't get used to the fact that i could do things for me and not have to constantly worry about how someone else feels or if they need something or some bullshit that they do just to see if you do it. I seen it a hundred times. Anyway, Max is using his big baby whiny voice frustrated at his dad for ridiculous reasons and i laugh. Its fuckin silly all that mess in that kids head i just dont understand why i keep coming here. Maybe its because im just as big a loser as them or maybe its because i can smoke reefer and cigarettes inside. I dunno. I know it doesn't seem worth it to have to sit through all the obnoxious talk and superbly irritating behavior and mentality, its so trapped and silly and fucking fucked the fuck up and i cant fathom how this human being at almost thirty years old can spend all his time on a computer and all his energy and thinking capacity to retain and babble information and opinions and a whole fucking plethora of mentally... i dont even fucking know theres just so much i could fill probably pages and pages all about the strange strange being that is Mister Smith. Actually, i could probably even go as far as to say i could write a novel about this cat, you know, like a character study or something such stupid like that. Maybe i will, but most likely i wont unless you want me to, if your eyes somehow someway see this small iota of the vast present universes and instances and you want to know about this human. A true tale of a man so sloppy and garbled that he could only live in roseville, california.
| | |
| Aw awful. Every time im about to break out of the thick goo that is my love for you i find you are still alive and, well, kicking. I do wonder though about the things i read and i find it funny how one can be so bold as to do and say certain things but yet seemingly forget all and retry, hoping for some new outcome. Thats insanity, i know ive been there and i see it more and more everyday and i am becoming so sad and despondent seeing the self gratifying creations carefully crafted for criticizing. I wonder if you realize the futility of analyzing every aspect of yer being from afar, it seems you wouldnt really get to enjoy life much, but hey im not you. Yes i can admit i made huge mistakes like getting that broad involved with my seedy business ventures and habits that only lead to aggravation and estrangement. And it looks like you are moving along just fine and im overjoyed for you, but sadly, stupidly i am still stuck on yer stupid beautiful face and a mind i found i could groove with, but of course i still talk to the guy she fucked and i still care about that fucker who did the same thing to another one of the hussies i love. Why is it i cant help but love whores? Its not important. Oh time you definitely did me dirty and i ended up alone with my fist in my ass, embarassed and ashamed but humble still and able to move on knowing i am human, capable of error big and small. And i may not be a perfect being like you and i may not be able to tell you how to live yer life, but i can write about you, and you, and stay satisfied for making a dropping in my oft constipated processes mental. I cant help but stalk you dear so forgive me. I dont even know if you read this and i guess it doesnt matter either way, yer a million years over me and already justifying being a slut. I know how yall operate. As long as everything is groovy for you no one else matters cause you seem to think you deserve it and you are the only one who does because you are holding on to trivial events from yer life, dig, baggage. Weve all got something thats a bummer infinite, its easy to pick something out and dwell, its really easy i know. See, you gotta be able to swallow that pride of yers, flush it away and learn that its meaningless, nothing. I can see so clearly yer pride shining it all its guilded glory in the drunken Bay night, and i cant believe you went back to Oakland without a fuckin flinch. Oh aha i guess you already fucked him? And the old room mate? Maybe. It wouldnt suprise me obviously but you know im sorry, im so fucking sorry for all the shit i put you through and for making you suffer. Im sorry to everyone i known for bumming them out with my behavior and my attitudes. I just wanted to be friends, real talkin, hug bearin chums, able to be honest and real like humans should. I dont know why it seems like such a hard concept for my peers to grasp. Ah and im sorry i pcik on yall so much, i dont like doing it, its really petty and it just brings me down to yer level, but you need to be made aware of these things cause i see no signs of that kind of knowledge anywhere in yalls speaks and whatnot. Like i said im human too, i fuck up. hard. Dig? But you know i can admit that and not try to justify it, i can be real with myself now and i know what i want and i know where im going. I worry about you so much cause i hear and see these horrible things that stiffen my neck and break my back. The language gets shabbier and shabbier each day and the images dissappear like loving words from old faces. I knew youd go back to the city for some reason. I am just waiting for the day i run into you on the street and you are doing so much better than me.
| | |
| Happy Birthday John Lennon! I know you'd be dissapointed if you were alive today. I'm sorry for the tyme thats passed. | | |
| Its mighty empty here. Its hot and its restless and dull lazy life wasting away the days. The women all go to the mall and look for young men to strangle and take home and the men just lay back and take it while they fight eachother for pieces of meat and legs. Im keeping out of sight now. Im locked up in a home somewhere and i am trapped in some eternal game that makes me think i will do good but then i am slapped by some level of thought that denies my wishes. And i can see very clearly the smog and the black san francisco day where it reminded me of japan and the lost flats of los angeles that display liquor stores and laundromats where the somber and the alone reside in the night and they watch. They watch like i do on those afternoons by the main roads. I have traveled far to be near nothing and to escape from the horrible past i lived that has melted into my brain mass and replays over and over and over until i need quelling of this beast and it is only so temporary and i am distraught by this lacking of future. Northwest. The forests are deep and mine. Beholden to me only and sacred. Sad Sad Sad. What happened? Why? Where from here? | | |
|
