August 20, 2007 in -- | Comments (0)
My test tube whale will go in Muncho Lake. Don’t worry, I will add salt as needed.
August 19, 2007 in -- | Comments (0)
Spur of the moment, mostly satanic folk numbers, for posterity, in case I should ever run low on shames.
zero zero nine, an edge for the world.
zero one five, nasal led drunks to the rivers.
There is no need to get much better. Maybe a little more individual string action. Maybe a few more marbles in the mouth. Maybe determinations of words and structure prior to beginning. Pretty bad is sort of good enough.
p.s. space oddity
in -- | Comments (0)
Spur of the moment, mostly satanic folk numbers, for posterity, in case I should ever run low on shames.
zero zero nine, an edge for the world.
zero one five, nasal led drunks to the rivers.
There is no need to get much better. Maybe a little more individual string action. Maybe a few more marbles in the mouth. Maybe determinations of words and structure prior to beginning. Pretty bad is sort of good enough.
p.s. space oddity
in -- | Comments (0)
I have decided that I am not evil enough. I should like to be eviler. I will begin by taking eviler photographs.
August 15, 2007 in -- | Comments (0)
I get Rothko. I don’t know when that would have happened.
August 3, 2007 in -- | Comments (0)
August 2, 2007 in -- | Comments (10)
Hey, look!
A live journal!
Finally, a place to write anonymously about how I have feelings ! But maybe later.
I will bet that you are lonely, live journal. I think that everyone has gone to a face book, which is a mythical place, I think with magical dragons and tragical genies or the other way around. But do not worry, live journal. I have only now just caught up to here, with very much exhausted efforts. I will never be able to make it to face book, mostly because I have the frightful wounds of jadedness and insolence. They are certainly mortal. I will just rest in this ditch with my flintlock pistol hidden inside of my coat and wait for the battalions of oppression to pass by in their pursuit of us all, all of us. With any luck, I will slow them down just enough so that a few more people can get to face book, and then they will be safe and protected.
Tireder and tireder becomes this orbit, live journal. Fuck, I am so aptly named. So so aptly. If all else goes awry, at least the namings will not. At leasts!
What do you think the planet Earth will look like in the year 99000, live journal? I think it will be full of trees. Geologically, 99000 is only one inhalation and one exhalation away from right now. It is very little time. The Earth will only begin to consider an increment of ten million years. I think 99000 will be full of trees, and very little else. You can wreak all of the havocs you can, and you can certainly obliterate an awful lot and almost everything, but after all of the obliterations, there is long quiets and determined progresses, the slowest settlings, until things are okay, and the chemistry is very apt to allow a tree and then another. I think that in 99000 there will be nothing but trees, and for many ages after. What a glorious place to be able to observe, if you are able to secure a safe place until then. Personally, I only have a couple weeks worth of campbells soups, so it is a no-go.
If you are determined and have a very large store, live journal, then I will give you my campbells soups, and that will get you a couple more weeks. Maybe even a month if you don’t mind getting a little scrawny. When you get there, you should snap a photo of all of the glorious trees and landscapes and send it to Flickr. Hopefully Flickr will be universal by then. You should title the photo ‘Wish You Were Here’. I think that would be all right.
August 1, 2007 in -- | Comments (0)
Time has tolled me, ND. O Lamentables. Everyone is broken, and so is everything. The heart is a dried up meat. It is a jerky. It is a jerky heart, shrinkywrapped, waiting to be unveiled and smelly. One fucked eye is longer than the other fucked eye. What?
Did you know that you are not doomed, but your children are? I have seen all of the specials. If they exist, future generations will despise this one, and the few before. We are still earning our reputations. There is reeling, and there is not much to be done. Perhaps an endlessly swimming polar bear will finally drowntomorrow, and the carcass will sink, cascade down, down, down, down, down, to the warmm and pinkk flesh of the Arctic floor, and will come to rest, icy only in his repose, against a mighty, mighty Reset Button. Mercy with asphyxia.
Demons at play empty the ice cube tray. You are out of tonic anyway.
Demons at rest when you’re looking yr best. You are so smart, it is almost sinister. What’s that?
After they have fallen from favour for a good long while, perhaps I will come back on ships with flags and distortion pedals. The prophecy foretells of misguided Medinians, doesn’t it anyway? This is what happens when packmules disappear from the places that they have made for us. Some of the things we cannot do alone, Sal.
You know where you are with
You know where you are with
Floor collapses
Floating
Bouncing back and one day I am gonna grow wings
A chemical reaction
Hysterical and useless
Hysterical and
