they have heavy accents they
always have such thick fucking accents man the
father says what is your success rate with students and the SAT [esshachetee] i
stop myself from calling him dude i totally do i go sir i am confident that blahbitty blahblah blah i
talk until the man stops me he
says my son's test is next week i go
next week??? i emphasize the three question marks ok i do i mean come on and the dad goes my son he
take the hayceetee last week but he no finish he say there was umm how you say many questions left unhanswered good
grief
i think to myself but also like
man fuck it you need the fuckin money i
go ok well i think we could all sit down and talk about test taking strategies and maybe i could look at samples of his school work and form a plan from there
oh
i say after a short contemplative pause
is your son an american?
yees. he is american. but umm. he no like study.
i count to five. i say to myself: the money man think of the money. a separate voice in my head goes yo tyty this motherfucker is doomed he shoulda been studying for this shit for a year man and plus holy shit his dad sounds like some anti-govt rebel from who fuckin knows where right i mean dude might kill your ass if you fail to teach his son three years of high school in a week but
then i'm like hey dude xmas money man you need xmas money with the quickness pardner so i move forward and we make an appt during the alma mater's game [FUCKING FUCK] and then hang up.
after that i return someone named akbar's call. he wants to improve his english writing skills.
------------
2149
she opens her eyes and goes i don't think someone could take 1000 pills in a day.
i go really?
she goes yeah.
i go are you asleep?
she says i guess so.
i go really?
she goes yeah.
i go are you asleep?
she says i guess so.
1837 | loud equals escape maybe |
CAN YOU TURN IT DOWN FOR A SECOND she yells
[we the four horsemen ride] he
sighs he
honors the request he is wearing blue elvis shades
what dude?
man [now there's nothing you can do] i'm having a lot of post nasal drainage do you think that means i am getting better i've had this ear infection for weeks i am beginning to question my sanity
[on leather steeds they ride] umm maybe but umm like i did see something on CNN where they were saying that ppl thought they were getting better right before they died dude
SHUT UP MAN I'M SERIOUS I'M REALLY FREAKED OUT
he tries to clean the windshield but no blue juice squirts out. the dry wipers make bumpy sounds across the glass. metallica changes to fischerspooner. he
sighs. idk dude. he
turns left [hypermediocrity. you don't need to emerge from nothing. you don't need to tear away.] into the parking lot rush hour traffic in suburban shopping hell bedroom community hell.
he pulls into the line his thoughts are elsewhere his thoughts are nowhere.
hi go ahead with your order when you are ready.
umm a black taco. cheese quesadilla. two seven-layer burritos no sour cream no cheese xtra guac oh hold on what?
dad i want a small pepsi plz
and umm a small pepsi ma'am.
ten dollars and blahblahblah cents [you don't need to emerge from nothing you don't need to tear away.] plz pull forward to the second window.
he removes his foot from the break. black avia trail shoes. gray argyle socks. tony hawk shorts. the car rolls forward. the woman in the minivan the maroon minivan in front of them at the window is humongous.
fat hangs down beneath her biceps when she reaches out for her change. way down. the employee hands her giant light green sodas. a teeny tiny immigrant woman.
trick daddy comes on the stereo.
the fat woman's arm jiggles death in his direction. i need to run at least ten miles every day he says. i can never end up like that.
[i know them niggas gonna have so much gangsta shit to tell me.]
they pull into the parking lot. the three of them eat. someone in a pampered chef van is eating at KFC.
miss kitten comes on the stereo.
late october. ohio. year of our lord 2009.
[we the four horsemen ride] he
sighs he
honors the request he is wearing blue elvis shades
what dude?
man [now there's nothing you can do] i'm having a lot of post nasal drainage do you think that means i am getting better i've had this ear infection for weeks i am beginning to question my sanity
[on leather steeds they ride] umm maybe but umm like i did see something on CNN where they were saying that ppl thought they were getting better right before they died dude
SHUT UP MAN I'M SERIOUS I'M REALLY FREAKED OUT
he tries to clean the windshield but no blue juice squirts out. the dry wipers make bumpy sounds across the glass. metallica changes to fischerspooner. he
sighs. idk dude. he
turns left [hypermediocrity. you don't need to emerge from nothing. you don't need to tear away.] into the parking lot rush hour traffic in suburban shopping hell bedroom community hell.
he pulls into the line his thoughts are elsewhere his thoughts are nowhere.
hi go ahead with your order when you are ready.
umm a black taco. cheese quesadilla. two seven-layer burritos no sour cream no cheese xtra guac oh hold on what?
dad i want a small pepsi plz
and umm a small pepsi ma'am.
ten dollars and blahblahblah cents [you don't need to emerge from nothing you don't need to tear away.] plz pull forward to the second window.
he removes his foot from the break. black avia trail shoes. gray argyle socks. tony hawk shorts. the car rolls forward. the woman in the minivan the maroon minivan in front of them at the window is humongous.
fat hangs down beneath her biceps when she reaches out for her change. way down. the employee hands her giant light green sodas. a teeny tiny immigrant woman.
trick daddy comes on the stereo.
the fat woman's arm jiggles death in his direction. i need to run at least ten miles every day he says. i can never end up like that.
[i know them niggas gonna have so much gangsta shit to tell me.]
they pull into the parking lot. the three of them eat. someone in a pampered chef van is eating at KFC.
miss kitten comes on the stereo.
late october. ohio. year of our lord 2009.
2340 | someone unfollowed me wtf |
I wanna know who goddammit, but for the life of me I do not know who the nine people were and now there are eight and who the fuck was that ninth person that bounced. I mean, I should know right off the bat if I do not even remember them, what the fuck difference does it make, but how DARE YOU unfollow me! So fucking rude. All people think about is themselves.
:D
:D
1921
it was winter yeah so cold man we worked nites in that unheated warehouse man gettin that grad school money yeah back then lyndsay and i raced my jeep across the ice yeah across those salty black roads yeah
hear me
that [watered-down] sun struggled to climb the horizon man yeah man total gray sky far away mr. far away yeah man ty and lyndsay on our way to the first bar of the day man
530am right after work listen the lady who owned the place cooked breakfast every morning [yeah] the place full of night shifters truckers hospital workers al
coholics we
played that internet jukebox loud man so fucking loud misery and gin and the
ace
of
spades and
the night they drove old dixie down we
sang along and sang along man sweet lyndsay always calm that lyndsay always smiling her
freckle face and blue eyes full of concern for me
while i reeled man
my
wife living with my best friend my world tipped upside down and
oh how i raged and fought whoever would fight me
i laughed and spit blood and
bought lyndsay drink after drink yeah seven a.m. jager bombs fuck yes she hung in there she
matched me drink for drink until the eventual the escape from the blue collar part of town the express to the bougie sector another
bar buncha middle-aged trust funders scratching off gambling tickets we
would switch to cuba libres man
so much fucking rum and lyndsay would pay or i would pay and she would laugh and say
you're gonna make me flunk out of school
don't
leave me here alone i'd reply i'm in a bad way and she would smile and shake her head
and say i won't dude
don't worry
i won't
that fuckin lyndsay so cool she
wouldn't say a word when the coke man showed up at ten a.m. with the first bag of the day no
she was such a friend back then that sweet girl she
was fucking a boy who didn't give a fuck and i
was fucking that straw up my nose and
every day while we drove around drunk i
blasted surrender and i want you to want me and
every time [like this afternoon] that i hear one of those songs coming out of a of neighboring car at a red light i go back to that horrible insane winter
and those painful
free
days.
bless.
hear me
that [watered-down] sun struggled to climb the horizon man yeah man total gray sky far away mr. far away yeah man ty and lyndsay on our way to the first bar of the day man
530am right after work listen the lady who owned the place cooked breakfast every morning [yeah] the place full of night shifters truckers hospital workers al
coholics we
played that internet jukebox loud man so fucking loud misery and gin and the
ace
of
spades and
the night they drove old dixie down we
sang along and sang along man sweet lyndsay always calm that lyndsay always smiling her
freckle face and blue eyes full of concern for me
while i reeled man
my
wife living with my best friend my world tipped upside down and
oh how i raged and fought whoever would fight me
i laughed and spit blood and
bought lyndsay drink after drink yeah seven a.m. jager bombs fuck yes she hung in there she
matched me drink for drink until the eventual the escape from the blue collar part of town the express to the bougie sector another
bar buncha middle-aged trust funders scratching off gambling tickets we
would switch to cuba libres man
so much fucking rum and lyndsay would pay or i would pay and she would laugh and say
you're gonna make me flunk out of school
don't
leave me here alone i'd reply i'm in a bad way and she would smile and shake her head
and say i won't dude
don't worry
i won't
that fuckin lyndsay so cool she
wouldn't say a word when the coke man showed up at ten a.m. with the first bag of the day no
she was such a friend back then that sweet girl she
was fucking a boy who didn't give a fuck and i
was fucking that straw up my nose and
every day while we drove around drunk i
blasted surrender and i want you to want me and
every time [like this afternoon] that i hear one of those songs coming out of a of neighboring car at a red light i go back to that horrible insane winter
and those painful
free
days.
bless.
2318 | livejasmin |
69jojo69's other-side-of-the-world boredom is infectious.
Hello, SuckOnMyClit.
000000000ASS has nice eyes and huge nipples. BadBoyakaPussyDog types: "U mke my penis very happy bb." She adjusts the computer camera in her cramped room.
How has your day been, squirtfabianne?
10inchdeeppussy says she has a headache from bad chicken. She will not smile. (Who the fuck gets headaches from chicken?)
Schools did not have the foresight before the Internet to offer Tagalog.
HotRoberta will not show her tits. I type: "Read any good books lately?" She ignores me. RadoinRashlinikov types: "show me your potrin." But fuck him, I'm talking! I type: "Is there a way for you to shit on my chest over the Internet?" She types back: "Hawaii wtf." I guess the Internet still has limits. She leaves for a private chat.
DeepCummerDolly's profile says she is into small penis humiliation. She looks right into the camera. She's looking at me, not AnalDriller. I do not take it personally. She is staring right at me. Chicken skin. I type: "You and I have a special connection that goes way beyond broadband, my love. I feel it. Do you feel it?" I watch her type back: "jaajjajajaja. I wil tell u in private chat, bb." The only response possible: "My balls itch. I have to wash my balls. Have a great night … or day or whatever it is where you live. Let's get married. Spring or fall?"
Hello, SuckOnMyClit.
000000000ASS has nice eyes and huge nipples. BadBoyakaPussyDog types: "U mke my penis very happy bb." She adjusts the computer camera in her cramped room.
How has your day been, squirtfabianne?
10inchdeeppussy says she has a headache from bad chicken. She will not smile. (Who the fuck gets headaches from chicken?)
Schools did not have the foresight before the Internet to offer Tagalog.
HotRoberta will not show her tits. I type: "Read any good books lately?" She ignores me. RadoinRashlinikov types: "show me your potrin." But fuck him, I'm talking! I type: "Is there a way for you to shit on my chest over the Internet?" She types back: "Hawaii wtf." I guess the Internet still has limits. She leaves for a private chat.
DeepCummerDolly's profile says she is into small penis humiliation. She looks right into the camera. She's looking at me, not AnalDriller. I do not take it personally. She is staring right at me. Chicken skin. I type: "You and I have a special connection that goes way beyond broadband, my love. I feel it. Do you feel it?" I watch her type back: "jaajjajajaja. I wil tell u in private chat, bb." The only response possible: "My balls itch. I have to wash my balls. Have a great night … or day or whatever it is where you live. Let's get married. Spring or fall?"
0951 | what dan hartman said |
The most beautiful person I have ever seen on the train looked sad, and not because I was staring at her stop after stop after stop. Perfect cheeks and eyes and hair and lips and legs, and she took her scarf off and put it back on, and stared at her reflection in the window, and never smiled.
She ran her fingers through her hair and it fell perfectly into place. She kept staring at her reflection, and I kept staring at her staring at it, and I wanted her to smile so I looked away, and I do not know if she smiled or not, but then I hoped that she did not. I do not know why except that maybe I did not want to miss it.
Somewhere there is a picture of her smiling that I will never see and that made me sad, and she said excuse me to someone and smiled when the person stepped aside and she stepped off the train and her smile vanished but I saw it for a second, and that smile was snowflake-sunshine-song, and the doors slid shut and she was gone.
2219 | jack update |
John Mayer is singing about love while I jack to Drunk Sex Orgy Pussy Blizzard. My cock tingles, minty fresh because I had just brushed my teeth and rinsed with mouthwash, and I just lube up under the rim with spit, and work the foreskin. After the squirt, I play this and meditate.
0918
yeah so the rain is falling again and the sun will not show its face for certes [again] and yeah
you have not run since monday [yeah] and it feels like forever and
you watched that tall bike documentary on your computer man they
were so mean to tony those stinky nerdy punk rockers and your throat hurts and your head
is full of snot your posse finally got you sick yeah and when you turn on the morning news you
hear someone
say "once again that is only if you have small fever blisters on the roof of your mouth" and
that
statement is immediately followed by a commercial where a happy woman dances with a swiffer or a broom or some shit
and you say holyfuckihaveblistersonthetopofmymouth what
am i supposed to do but when the news comes back they are talking about a puppy and both the
old lady holding the puppy and the puppy itself are wearing Burberry sweaters no that can't be right only
the old lady is wearing a Burberry sweater
dogs do not wear five hundred dollar sweaters oh
yes they do says Google when checked after you find nothing on the TV station's web
site about ppl collapsing from fever blisters holy fuck
you say
i have fever blisters wtf does that mean i am going to die right someone just fuckin tell me i am fuckin stressed ok HEAR ME
i have only run nine miles this week i am gaining weight i just know it i
am going to be fat holy fuck i ate bread yesterday do you hear me BREAD
of all things the fastest burning carbs.
upstairs -
the front loader smells like bleached whites and
the veggie stock on the stove is spreading the scent of cilantro and umm also the stench of the charred piece of garlic that fell over the side and beneath the pot and burned black
baby
burned black and umm
oh
the fish water is not warm yet and i need to get the tank squared away before the baby wakes up from his post breakfast nap and umm
oh yeah
right
today is friday but it feels like horrible day and the rain, man
it won't stop puddling in the street in front of my house dude i hate the rain i fucking hate it i
hear the planes overhead and salute them with a nod but it is a sad nod really i mean what else can it be i am sick
and broke and have nowhere to go and plus everyone in the house needs something from me
every five seconds HEAR ME i
don't care if i am half dead tomorrow i am going to run run run
i have had enough i
am a person too baby not someone you constantly remind how
good your life was a year and a half ago
[fuck it].
hey dude you
can call this ode to my mizuno's i suppose
and that would work just fine for me as a title
ok?
you have not run since monday [yeah] and it feels like forever and
you watched that tall bike documentary on your computer man they
were so mean to tony those stinky nerdy punk rockers and your throat hurts and your head
is full of snot your posse finally got you sick yeah and when you turn on the morning news you
hear someone
say "once again that is only if you have small fever blisters on the roof of your mouth" and
that
statement is immediately followed by a commercial where a happy woman dances with a swiffer or a broom or some shit
and you say holyfuckihaveblistersonthetopofmymouth what
am i supposed to do but when the news comes back they are talking about a puppy and both the
old lady holding the puppy and the puppy itself are wearing Burberry sweaters no that can't be right only
the old lady is wearing a Burberry sweater
dogs do not wear five hundred dollar sweaters oh
yes they do says Google when checked after you find nothing on the TV station's web
site about ppl collapsing from fever blisters holy fuck
you say
i have fever blisters wtf does that mean i am going to die right someone just fuckin tell me i am fuckin stressed ok HEAR ME
i have only run nine miles this week i am gaining weight i just know it i
am going to be fat holy fuck i ate bread yesterday do you hear me BREAD
of all things the fastest burning carbs.
upstairs -
the front loader smells like bleached whites and
the veggie stock on the stove is spreading the scent of cilantro and umm also the stench of the charred piece of garlic that fell over the side and beneath the pot and burned black
baby
burned black and umm
oh
the fish water is not warm yet and i need to get the tank squared away before the baby wakes up from his post breakfast nap and umm
oh yeah
right
today is friday but it feels like horrible day and the rain, man
it won't stop puddling in the street in front of my house dude i hate the rain i fucking hate it i
hear the planes overhead and salute them with a nod but it is a sad nod really i mean what else can it be i am sick
and broke and have nowhere to go and plus everyone in the house needs something from me
every five seconds HEAR ME i
don't care if i am half dead tomorrow i am going to run run run
i have had enough i
am a person too baby not someone you constantly remind how
good your life was a year and a half ago
[fuck it].
hey dude you
can call this ode to my mizuno's i suppose
and that would work just fine for me as a title
ok?
2010 | eustace chapuys |
and when the king saw that she took so little notice of his coming he went into another chamber and took off his cloak and came in again in a coat of purple velvet. And when the lords and knights saw his grace they did him reverence.... and then her grace humbled herself lowly to the king's majesty, and his grace saluted her again, and they talked together lovingly, and afterwards he took her by the hand and led her to another chamber where their graces amused themselves that night and on Friday until the afternoon.
1536
Maybe you haven't been sleeping at night. Maybe you've been doing your best Margaret Houlihan and taking care of 3 H1N1's, 2 sinus colds, 2 secondary infections and a solo bout of pneumonia. Maybe you realize you've just been daydreaming in a chair with blue pleather cushions. Maybe Wolf Hall is open and sitting in your lap, daring you to force the dancing words to hold their assigned positions long enough for you to read them.
A woman is speaking. She ruined your daydream.
Or was it your nap?
Anyway. The woman is on the phone. YOU KNOW BECUZ SHE TALKS THIS LOUD. She is wearing a Burberry turtleneck. Mid Grey Melange. Ruffled sleeves.
Pearls.
HI. ALISON? THIS IS KATHLEEN BLAHBLAHBLAH FROM TEAPARTYTREASURES. I'M CALLING TO LET YOU KNOW THAT WE HAVE AN OPENING FOR OUR BLAHBLAHBLAH PARTY. GREAT! AND KAYLIE IS IN 2ND GRADE RIGHT? GREAT!
Blonde hair. Pearl earrings.
HI. MONICA? THIS IS KATHLEEN BLAHBLAHBLAH FROM BLAHBLAHBLAH. I'M CALLING TO LET YOU KNOW...
Your legs ache. This morning's nine miles hurt more than usual. You put your head in your hands. How many days in a row without more than two hours of sleep at a time? Twelve? Fourteen?
HI. DR. JULA?
Kathleen looks like someone else. A grown up someone else. A girl. Another Kathleen. Another Kathleen a long time ago at a private college halfway across the country. Tall. Lanky. Perfect teeth. Surgeon father. Grandfather was a former Governor.
GOP? You asked.
She stared at you for a full fifteen seconds. Freckles. Lips slightly parted. She sighed.
Umm. Dude. Like who cares?
You shrugged. You didn't. It was fall. Back when LL Bean dressed us all. Her in her Camden cords and Comfort Fleece.
You in your down vest.
Later. After watching the coxless pairs and the single sculls while sipping Rumple Minze mixed with hot chocolate. The dorm room door locked. Roommates elsewhere. Maybe an arrangement was in place from the first day of classes. Perhaps a dry cleaner's hanger left on the outside of the knob. Or a bit of colored tape on the frame at eye level.
A long girl tied spread eagle to a single bed. Held fast by Taekwondo belts. Yellow stripe. Orange stripe. Blue stripe. A red belt.
Two blue bandanas over her face.
Faded tan lines. Large breasts. Small areolas. Pink nipples. The smallest patch of pubic hair.
You are standing above her looking down. She is 5'10. Maybe 5'11.
125 lbs.
130 at the most.
Fuck me she says. Kill me.
You are naked. You see your flat stomach and your erection. Suddenly you feel embarrassed. You start to laugh to cover it up. You panic. You have never done anything like this before. The girl freezes on the bed when she hears you hurriedly pulling on your clothes.
You can't stop laughing. You are mortified.
She starts to yank herself free.
You turn and leave. Your keys are in your pocket.
ASSHOLE!
You hear it as you close the door. The hallway is empty. You are talking to yourself. Idiot. Stupid idiot. And: I am never coming to Massachusetts again.
Leaves are on the ground. The sky is black. Your tan Cavalier smirks at you under a light in the visitor parking lot. The girl has not pursued you.
Sir.
We are ready to see your son now.
You shake your head. Afternoon. Children's Hospital Urgent Care. Surrounded by the bourgeois.
We called your name three times.
All you see are blue scrubs.
Sorry. I haven't been sleeping much.
The tea party woman is still making calls when you pass her seat in front of the wall of windows. You tell yourself that she is the girl from way back when. But how can that be? No way. Or is she? You feel your face turn red. She places her phone against her ear.
HI. MRS. RIESLEY?...
A woman is speaking. She ruined your daydream.
Or was it your nap?
Anyway. The woman is on the phone. YOU KNOW BECUZ SHE TALKS THIS LOUD. She is wearing a Burberry turtleneck. Mid Grey Melange. Ruffled sleeves.
Pearls.
HI. ALISON? THIS IS KATHLEEN BLAHBLAHBLAH FROM TEAPARTYTREASURES. I'M CALLING TO LET YOU KNOW THAT WE HAVE AN OPENING FOR OUR BLAHBLAHBLAH PARTY. GREAT! AND KAYLIE IS IN 2ND GRADE RIGHT? GREAT!
Blonde hair. Pearl earrings.
HI. MONICA? THIS IS KATHLEEN BLAHBLAHBLAH FROM BLAHBLAHBLAH. I'M CALLING TO LET YOU KNOW...
Your legs ache. This morning's nine miles hurt more than usual. You put your head in your hands. How many days in a row without more than two hours of sleep at a time? Twelve? Fourteen?
HI. DR. JULA?
Kathleen looks like someone else. A grown up someone else. A girl. Another Kathleen. Another Kathleen a long time ago at a private college halfway across the country. Tall. Lanky. Perfect teeth. Surgeon father. Grandfather was a former Governor.
GOP? You asked.
She stared at you for a full fifteen seconds. Freckles. Lips slightly parted. She sighed.
Umm. Dude. Like who cares?
You shrugged. You didn't. It was fall. Back when LL Bean dressed us all. Her in her Camden cords and Comfort Fleece.
You in your down vest.
Later. After watching the coxless pairs and the single sculls while sipping Rumple Minze mixed with hot chocolate. The dorm room door locked. Roommates elsewhere. Maybe an arrangement was in place from the first day of classes. Perhaps a dry cleaner's hanger left on the outside of the knob. Or a bit of colored tape on the frame at eye level.
A long girl tied spread eagle to a single bed. Held fast by Taekwondo belts. Yellow stripe. Orange stripe. Blue stripe. A red belt.
Two blue bandanas over her face.
Faded tan lines. Large breasts. Small areolas. Pink nipples. The smallest patch of pubic hair.
You are standing above her looking down. She is 5'10. Maybe 5'11.
125 lbs.
130 at the most.
Fuck me she says. Kill me.
You are naked. You see your flat stomach and your erection. Suddenly you feel embarrassed. You start to laugh to cover it up. You panic. You have never done anything like this before. The girl freezes on the bed when she hears you hurriedly pulling on your clothes.
You can't stop laughing. You are mortified.
She starts to yank herself free.
You turn and leave. Your keys are in your pocket.
ASSHOLE!
You hear it as you close the door. The hallway is empty. You are talking to yourself. Idiot. Stupid idiot. And: I am never coming to Massachusetts again.
Leaves are on the ground. The sky is black. Your tan Cavalier smirks at you under a light in the visitor parking lot. The girl has not pursued you.
Sir.
We are ready to see your son now.
You shake your head. Afternoon. Children's Hospital Urgent Care. Surrounded by the bourgeois.
We called your name three times.
All you see are blue scrubs.
Sorry. I haven't been sleeping much.
The tea party woman is still making calls when you pass her seat in front of the wall of windows. You tell yourself that she is the girl from way back when. But how can that be? No way. Or is she? You feel your face turn red. She places her phone against her ear.
HI. MRS. RIESLEY?...
808 | it's fundamental |
Section of four subway seats, from left to right: "Confederacy of
Dunces" by John Kennedy Toole, "Fudge-a-Mania" by Judy Blume, AMNY,
ELMORE LEONARD (name huge in all caps on cover, title so small it was
unreadable -- and who cares anyway because it's Elmore Fucking
Leonard, aiight.)
Dunces" by John Kennedy Toole, "Fudge-a-Mania" by Judy Blume, AMNY,
ELMORE LEONARD (name huge in all caps on cover, title so small it was
unreadable -- and who cares anyway because it's Elmore Fucking
Leonard, aiight.)
Entire row replaced by iPhones at 79th Street.
0215
0930 Monday
The map maker on the Active Network does not provide enough information. For example: median income is ignored. One never thinks about this type of thing until they find themselves running thru an apartment complex that looked like a street on his or her Mac monitor the nite before. Not such a big deal if the apartment complex does not resemble an apartment complex in downtown Fallujah.
Cars: Backed in. No hubcaps. One burned [and not removed].
Grass: No. Try dirt.
Windows: Shitty broken blinds. All closed.
Children: One. Selling crack.
Child's clothes: Expensive.
0055 Tuesday
A woman has been sick with the flu for a week. She won't eat or drink anything. She is stomping around a house with a block of Velveeta in her hands. She has diarrhea she calls terrifying. Her brother told her via the telephone to go to the emergency room. She took Mucinex. The fella she woke up with her hysterics asks how she expects the mucus to leave her body. Magic?
It has been a long period of illness in the house. Very. Fucking. Long.
A baby is crying in his crib. Most likely from the stomping. The dad abandons his couch bed vigil with the sick momma and takes the baby to the master bedroom. Ninety hundred piles of clean laundry are folded on the bed. One of those piles is the sheets. The daddy puts the baby on the floor with a Wonder Pets toy [the turtle] and a squeezable cow that moos when you press its belly and immediately starts throwing the folded clothes into a laundry basket.
Green Easter grass, as usual, finds its way into the baby's hands. Late October. I know.
0100 Tuesday
The man and the baby watch Intervention. Some guy ruined his family's life with his drug use. The ppl are all white trash. Everyone cries. Commercials come on every fourteen seconds that are way louder than the program.
Attempt number one at returning the baby to his crib fails after two minutes of screaming that feel like the amt of time one spends as an undergraduate.
0200
A show comes on about pot growers in Humbolt county. Hippies. Cops. Non-addicts. Moldy houses.
The baby keeps trying to crawl off the end of the bed. Like a Dark Ages explorer or some shit.
He believes the bed is round.
0300 Tuesday
The dad [boxers and undershirt hair sticking str8up] says enough. The baby goes back to his crib. The little song on the mobile does its thing. Lullllluhbyyyyyye and goodnittttte. Thirty-four minutes later the baby is back in his father's bed. Dogs whine in their crates. The mother coughs and coughs on one of the couches in the den. Perhaps she clutches her bright yellow rectangle of Velveeta like a wooby. Perhaps the Velveeta tells her that everything is gonna be all right. Perhaps her brother is awaiting her arrival at the emergency room.
0341 Tuesday
Hi. I am the only person in this house [out of six] who is not sick. It will be two weeks this Friday. I am losing my mind.
The map maker on the Active Network does not provide enough information. For example: median income is ignored. One never thinks about this type of thing until they find themselves running thru an apartment complex that looked like a street on his or her Mac monitor the nite before. Not such a big deal if the apartment complex does not resemble an apartment complex in downtown Fallujah.
Cars: Backed in. No hubcaps. One burned [and not removed].
Grass: No. Try dirt.
Windows: Shitty broken blinds. All closed.
Children: One. Selling crack.
Child's clothes: Expensive.
0055 Tuesday
A woman has been sick with the flu for a week. She won't eat or drink anything. She is stomping around a house with a block of Velveeta in her hands. She has diarrhea she calls terrifying. Her brother told her via the telephone to go to the emergency room. She took Mucinex. The fella she woke up with her hysterics asks how she expects the mucus to leave her body. Magic?
It has been a long period of illness in the house. Very. Fucking. Long.
A baby is crying in his crib. Most likely from the stomping. The dad abandons his couch bed vigil with the sick momma and takes the baby to the master bedroom. Ninety hundred piles of clean laundry are folded on the bed. One of those piles is the sheets. The daddy puts the baby on the floor with a Wonder Pets toy [the turtle] and a squeezable cow that moos when you press its belly and immediately starts throwing the folded clothes into a laundry basket.
Green Easter grass, as usual, finds its way into the baby's hands. Late October. I know.
0100 Tuesday
The man and the baby watch Intervention. Some guy ruined his family's life with his drug use. The ppl are all white trash. Everyone cries. Commercials come on every fourteen seconds that are way louder than the program.
Attempt number one at returning the baby to his crib fails after two minutes of screaming that feel like the amt of time one spends as an undergraduate.
0200
A show comes on about pot growers in Humbolt county. Hippies. Cops. Non-addicts. Moldy houses.
The baby keeps trying to crawl off the end of the bed. Like a Dark Ages explorer or some shit.
He believes the bed is round.
0300 Tuesday
The dad [boxers and undershirt hair sticking str8up] says enough. The baby goes back to his crib. The little song on the mobile does its thing. Lullllluhbyyyyyye and goodnittttte. Thirty-four minutes later the baby is back in his father's bed. Dogs whine in their crates. The mother coughs and coughs on one of the couches in the den. Perhaps she clutches her bright yellow rectangle of Velveeta like a wooby. Perhaps the Velveeta tells her that everything is gonna be all right. Perhaps her brother is awaiting her arrival at the emergency room.
0341 Tuesday
Hi. I am the only person in this house [out of six] who is not sick. It will be two weeks this Friday. I am losing my mind.
2369 | green green grass |
All the girls on the train were chirping in French and the prettiest
one -- olive skin and deep, dark eyes and lips that should be so thick
-- split earbuds with her not-so-good looking friend. She held her
fists out and bounced a bit in her seat, a subway dance. She said
"bon" a lot, bumped knuckles with an amis, and counted her friends,
"Un, deux, trois," and it was difficult to remeber how much it sucked
to be a teenager.
one -- olive skin and deep, dark eyes and lips that should be so thick
-- split earbuds with her not-so-good looking friend. She held her
fists out and bounced a bit in her seat, a subway dance. She said
"bon" a lot, bumped knuckles with an amis, and counted her friends,
"Un, deux, trois," and it was difficult to remeber how much it sucked
to be a teenager.
0904 | running will kill you |
Three Runners Die in Detroit Marathon
DETROIT (Oct. 19) — Autopsies are expected after three half-marathoners died during the Detroit marathon.
Officials say 36-year-old Daniel Langdon collapsed at about 9:02 a.m. Sunday between the 11- and 12-mile markers and 65-year-old Rick Brown collapsed at 9:17 a.m., near where Langdon went down.
Officials say 26-year-old Jon Fenlon collapsed at about 9:18 a.m., just after finishing the 13.1-mile half-marathon in 1:53:37.
Autopsies are planned for Monday.
Rich Harshbarger, vice president of consumer marketing for the Detroit Media Partnership, told the Detroit Free Press emergency personnel were on the scene within seconds.
More than 19,000 people were registered to participate in the 32nd Detroit Free Press/Flagstar Marathon.
2102
yeah the land of fevers yeah
the land of drenched
a wet car in
a pharmacy drive-thru you
gotta go
to the other pharmacy the pharmacist says via the micro
phone
ok you reply you drive to the
other pharmacy
rain
neon
wipers swish swish class
ical npr on the radio less than a qtr tank of gas you
arrive in the hood the police
have someone pulled over in a grocery store parking lot lights flashing
the
second pharmacy is closed ok
so it's
back to the first pharmacy the sick girl
is like dude my eye is crusting over i
can hardly see and
the baby is crying H1N1 codes in his carrier and then it's
the pretty pharmacist at the window again yeah i can fill it she says but
you might have to pay for this yourself tho becuz your in
surance company already covered the prescription at the other pharmacy
the sick girl no lie
has tears in her eyes oh
i'm not paying she whispers i have better things to do with a hundred bucks
just re
lax man you say
but the pharmacist is a sweet lady and she sets everything right and
the medicine turns out to be ten bucks and as they drive away the hero says you
know what you need?
she is ravaged by fever she does not answer
he says
candy and he
crosses the street to a gas station
inside 2
little girls have 2 for 2 dollars bags of candy [GUMMI BEARS]
but not enough jing for the tax the clerk is all you
don't have 78 cent and the girls slowly shake their heads and look like they are
gonna cry man and the clerk keeps glancing out the windows to where his manager is smoking in the parking lot and it feels like forever passes and finally our dude says here man i have a dollar idk why this is breaking my heart but it is the
one girl says to her sister that white man is giving him a dollar neither girl says thanks
but the clerk does he says thanks man the dollar-giver says
yeah. i have four kids. and for some reason saying this makes him feel shy and he looks down at the counter and the clerk says $1.49 and while the fella swipes his card he sees the clerk place his bag of mini-chick o sticks [VEGAN] directly on top of his chewy sweet tarts [CAMERA BLOCKING MANEUVER] that the clerk did not ring up and
the man says thank-you sir and the clerk says yup and
as he walks out to his car he realizes that the total ebony and ivory moments he shared with the pretty phar
macist and the clerk in the store have warmed his wet rainy soul and forced the thought into
his jaded suspicious mind that there just may be
hope
after all
for the diseased writhing mass known as mankind and
that feeling man. it cannot be described. i mean. it's something special. like. it makes his heart sing in his lonesome, scarred chest
and
believe me. he is so fuckin grateful to hear that song.
bless.
the land of drenched
a wet car in
a pharmacy drive-thru you
gotta go
to the other pharmacy the pharmacist says via the micro
phone
ok you reply you drive to the
other pharmacy
rain
neon
wipers swish swish class
ical npr on the radio less than a qtr tank of gas you
arrive in the hood the police
have someone pulled over in a grocery store parking lot lights flashing
the
second pharmacy is closed ok
so it's
back to the first pharmacy the sick girl
is like dude my eye is crusting over i
can hardly see and
the baby is crying H1N1 codes in his carrier and then it's
the pretty pharmacist at the window again yeah i can fill it she says but
you might have to pay for this yourself tho becuz your in
surance company already covered the prescription at the other pharmacy
the sick girl no lie
has tears in her eyes oh
i'm not paying she whispers i have better things to do with a hundred bucks
just re
lax man you say
but the pharmacist is a sweet lady and she sets everything right and
the medicine turns out to be ten bucks and as they drive away the hero says you
know what you need?
she is ravaged by fever she does not answer
he says
candy and he
crosses the street to a gas station
inside 2
little girls have 2 for 2 dollars bags of candy [GUMMI BEARS]
but not enough jing for the tax the clerk is all you
don't have 78 cent and the girls slowly shake their heads and look like they are
gonna cry man and the clerk keeps glancing out the windows to where his manager is smoking in the parking lot and it feels like forever passes and finally our dude says here man i have a dollar idk why this is breaking my heart but it is the
one girl says to her sister that white man is giving him a dollar neither girl says thanks
but the clerk does he says thanks man the dollar-giver says
yeah. i have four kids. and for some reason saying this makes him feel shy and he looks down at the counter and the clerk says $1.49 and while the fella swipes his card he sees the clerk place his bag of mini-chick o sticks [VEGAN] directly on top of his chewy sweet tarts [CAMERA BLOCKING MANEUVER] that the clerk did not ring up and
the man says thank-you sir and the clerk says yup and
as he walks out to his car he realizes that the total ebony and ivory moments he shared with the pretty phar
macist and the clerk in the store have warmed his wet rainy soul and forced the thought into
his jaded suspicious mind that there just may be
hope
after all
for the diseased writhing mass known as mankind and
that feeling man. it cannot be described. i mean. it's something special. like. it makes his heart sing in his lonesome, scarred chest
and
believe me. he is so fuckin grateful to hear that song.
bless.
2025 | barf |
My fingers curl on the keyboard, waiting for the asdf, and I want to rage, inflict pain the way it has been inflicted on me. There are certainly words for it, words that would stick like napalm. But I say nothing. And everything everything everything is piling up. Every slight is an affront, and every brush against my sleeve is a kick in the nuts, and every time the bottom feels near, it is not. Having crazy thoughts about religion. And, really, I am just a big pussy, and should be a hero, but I am not — unless I stop moaning and start finding compassion for other people.
0015
the dark the typing late
at night the memory of a frightened child crying a
fight that was not a fight words
held inside for so long and then exploded forward never
coming back i mean so much better this life than the old life
but still i mean he
held out his hand and was like hey what's up man
i
am not shaking your hand you piece of shit you
fucking lawn nigger the hero replied twenty black faces
instantly turned that way
don't talk to me like that said the white lawn nigger
what are you gonna do about it the hero said with a smirk
the woman came running down the hall children in tow
why
the fuck didn't you stay down there you
gotta fight for him or something NICE
REALLY
NICE IN FRONT OF YOUR KIDS
GOOD EXAMPLE
she was saying as the hero led his sobbing son down the hall
his arm around the boy the already
huge gulf widening with each step they
tricked me he wants to say the filthy pigs fucked behind my back and now they
live in my old house and sleep in the bed i paid for
everything in that place i paid for
he wants to say these things but he can't man he
says little dude i'm so sorry i have a bad temper and i made a big mistake
but inside he is elated fuck yeah that sorry hoe of a man tried to shake with me
I'M NOT SHAKING YOUR HAND YOU PIECE OF SHIT YOU FUCKING SYCOPHANT
DO YOU KNOW WHAT A SYCOPHANT IS DID THEY TEACH YOU THAT
WORD DURING YOUR ONE SEMESTER OF COLLEGE
nice
nice example
in front of your kids nice she said in her man voice
[a painful shrug]
yeah jerry springer yeah white trash like a motherfucker yeah real
flesh and blood and pain and wounds and brave.
a sobbing boy in the car. nodding yes or no answers. neon. rain falling on the windshield.
always that fucking rain.
alone up at night typing. the clock man. it won't fuckin move.
at night the memory of a frightened child crying a
fight that was not a fight words
held inside for so long and then exploded forward never
coming back i mean so much better this life than the old life
but still i mean he
held out his hand and was like hey what's up man
i
am not shaking your hand you piece of shit you
fucking lawn nigger the hero replied twenty black faces
instantly turned that way
don't talk to me like that said the white lawn nigger
what are you gonna do about it the hero said with a smirk
the woman came running down the hall children in tow
why
the fuck didn't you stay down there you
gotta fight for him or something NICE
REALLY
NICE IN FRONT OF YOUR KIDS
GOOD EXAMPLE
she was saying as the hero led his sobbing son down the hall
his arm around the boy the already
huge gulf widening with each step they
tricked me he wants to say the filthy pigs fucked behind my back and now they
live in my old house and sleep in the bed i paid for
everything in that place i paid for
he wants to say these things but he can't man he
says little dude i'm so sorry i have a bad temper and i made a big mistake
but inside he is elated fuck yeah that sorry hoe of a man tried to shake with me
I'M NOT SHAKING YOUR HAND YOU PIECE OF SHIT YOU FUCKING SYCOPHANT
DO YOU KNOW WHAT A SYCOPHANT IS DID THEY TEACH YOU THAT
WORD DURING YOUR ONE SEMESTER OF COLLEGE
nice
nice example
in front of your kids nice she said in her man voice
[a painful shrug]
yeah jerry springer yeah white trash like a motherfucker yeah real
flesh and blood and pain and wounds and brave.
a sobbing boy in the car. nodding yes or no answers. neon. rain falling on the windshield.
always that fucking rain.
alone up at night typing. the clock man. it won't fuckin move.
1911
I have been forcing the issue. No chest shots, not even close. Have not even hit my belly. Slapping halfsies, it just oozes out the top, like a creamy flow of lava. Double self-loathing.
1732
gray vaults over
head. temperatures suddenly cold [entrenched] the
winter clothes are all washed and put away the
light
oh
that sweet yellow smile has left us for another half year and oh
the entire country has the flu or thinks they have the flu and
the rain
man
oh
that fucking rain falls and falls on me
drowning my eyes
flooding my soul of words it
filters down without apology
yeah [listen]
i see it thru my windows man that fucking water it ruins me it
tells me i can't run while the thunder rumbles man my only escape
lord my poor sweet girl has the baby at the hospital with a hundred and three degree fever
while my other babies sit here coughing and wiping noses man and slowly
asking if everything is gonna be ok
man
all day long i watched that helium balloon blowing wild
across my tv sky the room was dark the
blinds were drawn
and
woe
they cannot find that little boy man
they cannot find that little
boy.
head. temperatures suddenly cold [entrenched] the
winter clothes are all washed and put away the
light
oh
that sweet yellow smile has left us for another half year and oh
the entire country has the flu or thinks they have the flu and
the rain
man
oh
that fucking rain falls and falls on me
drowning my eyes
flooding my soul of words it
filters down without apology
yeah [listen]
i see it thru my windows man that fucking water it ruins me it
tells me i can't run while the thunder rumbles man my only escape
lord my poor sweet girl has the baby at the hospital with a hundred and three degree fever
while my other babies sit here coughing and wiping noses man and slowly
asking if everything is gonna be ok
man
all day long i watched that helium balloon blowing wild
across my tv sky the room was dark the
blinds were drawn
and
woe
they cannot find that little boy man
they cannot find that little
boy.
2019
he thinks:
maybe i should sit down and type. he asks himself how he will feel if no words escape from his fingers. he
does not think it will bother him this time and
the realization is totally strange man i mean totally new man in
deed he [listen] he
is completely surrounded by good words these days. penman. wolf hall.
the heaney treatment of that fam
ous geat
i mean he swims in the words and becomes a part of that fam
ous contest held with breca
like so
many warm summers ago man he
has a certain girl's e book on his horizon he
watched run fat boy run [Blu-ray] he
has other little red rectangles from the mailbox waiting their turn
[umm]
in the ps3 he
has been talking to immigrants
he
has been playing nurse to his sickened horde he
worries about his friend's mental state
he
sits here, [he does]
staring at the little apple next to the word Firefox and
he feels very far away from all of you yes
very far away
and he
feels safe [finally] after
so many years have escaped under etheric bridges he feels anchored
man
and warm
and in ten or so hours he will be running in the dark -
the greatest moments of his day
listening to his exhales and
urging the sun to once again
rise.
rise
and powerfully bring forth the blessings of its rays.
maybe i should sit down and type. he asks himself how he will feel if no words escape from his fingers. he
does not think it will bother him this time and
the realization is totally strange man i mean totally new man in
deed he [listen] he
is completely surrounded by good words these days. penman. wolf hall.
the heaney treatment of that fam
ous geat
i mean he swims in the words and becomes a part of that fam
ous contest held with breca
like so
many warm summers ago man he
has a certain girl's e book on his horizon he
watched run fat boy run [Blu-ray] he
has other little red rectangles from the mailbox waiting their turn
[umm]
in the ps3 he
has been talking to immigrants
he
has been playing nurse to his sickened horde he
worries about his friend's mental state
he
sits here, [he does]
staring at the little apple next to the word Firefox and
he feels very far away from all of you yes
very far away
and he
feels safe [finally] after
so many years have escaped under etheric bridges he feels anchored
man
and warm
and in ten or so hours he will be running in the dark -
the greatest moments of his day
listening to his exhales and
urging the sun to once again
rise.
rise
and powerfully bring forth the blessings of its rays.
1919 | things will get better |
You sang a song on the train today that I really needed to hear. I pulled out my earbuds and listened and the voice and the words were oh so oh so oh so and I put a dollar in your hat and watched you work the car and hype your band. Good luck to you.
1051 | and you say ohio is safe |
WINTERSVILLE, Ohio (AP) - A 7-year-old Ohio boy playing a game of backyard football was tackled by a deer.
Brandon Hiles says he encountered the charger - and not the kind from San Diego - when the ball rolled into woods while he was playing with friends Saturday in Wintersville, about 125 miles east of Columbus. The boy says the buck ran at him and flipped him with its horns, leaving bruises and a gash.
A 9-year-old pal, Wyatt Pugh (pyoo), beat the deer with a stick to make it go away.
Wintersville Police Officer Art Fowler Jr. says there were actually two bucks in the area gearing for a fight, and Brandon was attacked when he inadvertently got between them.
Brandon Hiles says he encountered the charger - and not the kind from San Diego - when the ball rolled into woods while he was playing with friends Saturday in Wintersville, about 125 miles east of Columbus. The boy says the buck ran at him and flipped him with its horns, leaving bruises and a gash.
A 9-year-old pal, Wyatt Pugh (pyoo), beat the deer with a stick to make it go away.
Wintersville Police Officer Art Fowler Jr. says there were actually two bucks in the area gearing for a fight, and Brandon was attacked when he inadvertently got between them.
08369 | my old friend/s |
Oh, Masturbation, how I have missed you. Those two or three seconds of
toe-curling bliss are worth the hours of post-toe-curl self-loathing
and messy Kleenex wipe-down. (I have been spraying it all over my
chest and belly.)
toe-curling bliss are worth the hours of post-toe-curl self-loathing
and messy Kleenex wipe-down. (I have been spraying it all over my
chest and belly.)
I am still on the outs with Booze, but we will make peace soon. Life
is too short to carry around a grudge, and we have been friends way
too long to give up on this relationship.
So maybe things are on the turn-around, even though I have almost zero
free time now. The resume is polished, the cash is being hoarded, the
almost zero free time helps me save cha-ching. I will need it when I
reconcile with Booze.
But what I really miss is Writing.
12369 | last day |
The best man was writing a short speech while clippers buzzed in the hotel bathroom. He wrote about the time the groom drove up next to an old woman, waved until she turned to look, and when she did, his friend smiled and flipped her off and, oh, the look of horror on the old woman's face, and how his friend laughed and laughed and laughed. The best man scratched out that part with his pen and instead wrote about how the groom has become a man, someone who finally appeciates, embraces, and returns a woman's love. The best man started crying as he read the speech aloud, the clippers still buzzing in the bathroom where the groom was preparing for his big day by shaving his balls.
12369 | mirror ball |
This sandwich is taking for-fucking-ever, and this chick with an afropuff won't stop coughing, that selfish cunt. Where the fuck is my sandwich. Dear Mr. Fantasy in my ear. No, now it is Riviera Paradise. Stop coughing, bitch. I said no peppers or onions. Hung a mirror ball in a Brazilian steak house. There better not be any peppers or onions. Pork ribs and tequila last night and this morning the most massive death-milkshake shit.
2048
the republic of bsmith ni hao wel
come to the republic of b
smith hold on for a sec
music break [don't
shoot shoot shoot that
thing at me you know you got
my sympathy
but don't shoot shoot shoot
that thing at me]
man so like
anyway the situation is as fol
lows:
one is at a wedding down south and the
other is sick from eating poisoned pigs and i am here all by myself plus totally remiss on acct of
kourtney with a k no longer works at the grocery store
oh
kourtney with a k
oh
and also sweet auditor wanna know what else?
ok good here goes: hot immigrant moms never wear old chuck's
to target nope nossir they do not they match
and their children match and i am always like
man this is target you don't have to go all chameleon
camo with the carts you short little dark delight no
you do not
i mean por ejemplo
kourtney with a k had freckles and jeans that were tight at the bottom
and slip on vans she
was from here yeah just sayin not
nat
ion
al
ism or anything
but umm yeah
truth be told i would fuck them both that sexy immigrant mom
and umm also
kourtney with a k only kourtney is gone
man
like the robins and the geese gone from my skies
gone
from my life like the summer
like my youth
like every dream i ever had hold me baybee make it all ok for little johnny if you plz
yeah hello my name is a lot of things but right now
you can call me tyrell or mr ty or pimp juice barksdale
[and i want my fuckin corners]
:cable tv reference:
yeah umm you can call me any old name you like but right now
rotto is in the south and xtx is sick and somewhere retweeting something
and this lonely motherfucking blog is mine all
mine and there is nothing you can do about it besides keep reading
or click that little
x
bless ya bad self and keep on livin.
come to the republic of b
smith hold on for a sec
music break [don't
shoot shoot shoot that
thing at me you know you got
my sympathy
but don't shoot shoot shoot
that thing at me]
man so like
anyway the situation is as fol
lows:
one is at a wedding down south and the
other is sick from eating poisoned pigs and i am here all by myself plus totally remiss on acct of
kourtney with a k no longer works at the grocery store
oh
kourtney with a k
oh
and also sweet auditor wanna know what else?
ok good here goes: hot immigrant moms never wear old chuck's
to target nope nossir they do not they match
and their children match and i am always like
man this is target you don't have to go all chameleon
camo with the carts you short little dark delight no
you do not
i mean por ejemplo
kourtney with a k had freckles and jeans that were tight at the bottom
and slip on vans she
was from here yeah just sayin not
nat
ion
al
ism or anything
but umm yeah
truth be told i would fuck them both that sexy immigrant mom
and umm also
kourtney with a k only kourtney is gone
man
like the robins and the geese gone from my skies
gone
from my life like the summer
like my youth
like every dream i ever had hold me baybee make it all ok for little johnny if you plz
yeah hello my name is a lot of things but right now
you can call me tyrell or mr ty or pimp juice barksdale
[and i want my fuckin corners]
:cable tv reference:
yeah umm you can call me any old name you like but right now
rotto is in the south and xtx is sick and somewhere retweeting something
and this lonely motherfucking blog is mine all
mine and there is nothing you can do about it besides keep reading
or click that little
x
bless ya bad self and keep on livin.
09369 | ride me |
A book on the right: "The Polygamous Sex -- A Man's Right to the Other Woman" (written by a woman).
An article on the left explains the difference between anxiety and fear.
A woman helps her daughter with math, tiny shoes dangling above the wet, dirty floor.
An article on the left explains the difference between anxiety and fear.
A woman helps her daughter with math, tiny shoes dangling above the wet, dirty floor.
1431 | not nuthin really |
moved smooth like leaving your shoes at the scene like some modern day archie douglas or
like maybe found dead in your nightshirt while your peepee still dripped
[BOOM] ex
plos
ion
dead darnley dead crown matrimonial
you
just a loudmouth unferth boca fulla beer diss
ing
ecgtheow's pride yeah oh yeah dude
she
laughed at
you
she
said you have a paper route now how
the fuck can that be true
man
how the fuck can that be true?
like maybe found dead in your nightshirt while your peepee still dripped
[BOOM] ex
plos
ion
dead darnley dead crown matrimonial
you
just a loudmouth unferth boca fulla beer diss
ing
ecgtheow's pride yeah oh yeah dude
she
laughed at
you
she
said you have a paper route now how
the fuck can that be true
man
how the fuck can that be true?
1955 | be the hero. fuck the dumb shit. |
Venturing closer,
his talon was raised to attack Beowulf where he lay on the bed; he was bearing in
with open claw when the alert hero's
comeback and armlock forestalled him utterly.
The captain of evil discovered himself
in a handgrip harder than anything
he had ever encountered in any man
on the face of the earth.
He was desperate to flee to his den and hide
with the devil's litter, for in all his days
he had never been clamped or cornered like this.
s heaney translation
his talon was raised to attack Beowulf where he lay on the bed; he was bearing in
with open claw when the alert hero's
comeback and armlock forestalled him utterly.
The captain of evil discovered himself
in a handgrip harder than anything
he had ever encountered in any man
on the face of the earth.
He was desperate to flee to his den and hide
with the devil's litter, for in all his days
he had never been clamped or cornered like this.
s heaney translation
19369 | fucking hell |
Drinking is boring now, and there is no desire to even touch myself. Have not jerked off in who knows how long. Some people might think this is a good thing, but the smart ones know that when you lose interest in the things you love, it is a sure sign of depression.
Eat food? What for? Meh. Food sucks. But at least the weight will come off without going to the gym, which is god since the membership will have to be canceled anyway when the job is gone. So there is a silver lining.
That cry I just had felt great. Being a whiny bitch has its upside.
Eat food? What for? Meh. Food sucks. But at least the weight will come off without going to the gym, which is god since the membership will have to be canceled anyway when the job is gone. So there is a silver lining.
That cry I just had felt great. Being a whiny bitch has its upside.
1917 | He Brushes His Teeth Just to Call Her |
Knuckles like elephant knees. Pink bends to white bends to pink. Ridges and grooves from weather and knives. Lines of ink on a palm — a sign, a tickle. Sips of Sazerac. This pair, bone marrow and marmalade.
1114
I was dreaming that I had a house with Melinda Cruz on Lake Erie. We had a bunch of roommates. There are always roommates in my dreams.
Like.
idk.
I can't be successful in the dreamscape or some shit.
Anyway. The water behind our house was very warm. Plus it looked like the Pacific Ocean.
But then it was six a.m. and I had to get up. Melinda stayed up late watching MNF so she was basically a rock beside me. The bed was warm.
My room was cold.
I couldn't open my eyes in the bathroom. Melinda said she heard me telling myself to wake up. She says I always do that.
I never remember.
Several minutes later I was walking up the street with my hands under my armpits. Shivering.
Mizuno's looking eerie on my feet. Glowing.
Pitch black. My daughter's friend [wearing her robe and pjs] in her driveway saying goodbye to her dad as he drove off to work.
And then I was running.
Past the high school kids on the corners. The black forms in the shadows.
Always the same questions in my mind: Who rides the bus to high school, and
when the fuck did that stinky loud yellow monster start arriving before 630?
Legs moving. Purplish sky in the east. Still night in the west.
Soft breathing. Warm up pace.
A mile. 2 miles.
Pick it up, man.
Pick.It.Up.
Long forever hill to climb. Horrible attempt at spitting leaves snot on my Under Armour pullover.
A stretch of sidewalk running. High traffic. No streetlights. Oncoming cars make me see spots.
There are things to dodge. Manhole covers. Sewer drains.
I take teeny tiny [alliteration] little steps.
And then the backside of the loop. Not quite the homestretch but 5k on the books with no problems.
Running. Onetwothreefour. Left knee wobbles once. Right quad pain for a sec. Should I order the Stick from the Internet bounces back and forth across my brain.
4 miles.
God turns on the lights. I Run on the dewy grass for a few.
More commuter traffic.
Get past the black car sticking out of the end of that driveway and then it's a matter of making it around the corner. Oh yeah. Don't forget to avoid the goose poop.
And then I see the streetlamp up ahead on the corner of the court aka the finish line. Yeah. Sprint toward it. Long loping strides at the end. Breathing not as quiet but not so bad.
6.2.
The cool down walk home. The best feeling of the day and it's only been light outside for several minutes.
Time to take a shower. Get four kids out the door by eight.
Morning.
And Monday was a day ago.
Like.
idk.
I can't be successful in the dreamscape or some shit.
Anyway. The water behind our house was very warm. Plus it looked like the Pacific Ocean.
But then it was six a.m. and I had to get up. Melinda stayed up late watching MNF so she was basically a rock beside me. The bed was warm.
My room was cold.
I couldn't open my eyes in the bathroom. Melinda said she heard me telling myself to wake up. She says I always do that.
I never remember.
Several minutes later I was walking up the street with my hands under my armpits. Shivering.
Mizuno's looking eerie on my feet. Glowing.
Pitch black. My daughter's friend [wearing her robe and pjs] in her driveway saying goodbye to her dad as he drove off to work.
And then I was running.
Past the high school kids on the corners. The black forms in the shadows.
Always the same questions in my mind: Who rides the bus to high school, and
when the fuck did that stinky loud yellow monster start arriving before 630?
Legs moving. Purplish sky in the east. Still night in the west.
Soft breathing. Warm up pace.
A mile. 2 miles.
Pick it up, man.
Pick.It.Up.
Long forever hill to climb. Horrible attempt at spitting leaves snot on my Under Armour pullover.
A stretch of sidewalk running. High traffic. No streetlights. Oncoming cars make me see spots.
There are things to dodge. Manhole covers. Sewer drains.
I take teeny tiny [alliteration] little steps.
And then the backside of the loop. Not quite the homestretch but 5k on the books with no problems.
Running. Onetwothreefour. Left knee wobbles once. Right quad pain for a sec. Should I order the Stick from the Internet bounces back and forth across my brain.
4 miles.
God turns on the lights. I Run on the dewy grass for a few.
More commuter traffic.
Get past the black car sticking out of the end of that driveway and then it's a matter of making it around the corner. Oh yeah. Don't forget to avoid the goose poop.
And then I see the streetlamp up ahead on the corner of the court aka the finish line. Yeah. Sprint toward it. Long loping strides at the end. Breathing not as quiet but not so bad.
6.2.
The cool down walk home. The best feeling of the day and it's only been light outside for several minutes.
Time to take a shower. Get four kids out the door by eight.
Morning.
And Monday was a day ago.
2058 | they all say |
back to all of it back to second
day back to god why didn't i
clean my room this weekend
back to why didn't i fold that
laundry
all that laundry
back to everyone here hates
me back to why the fuck do
i come to this place back
to why am i so broke so fucking
broke back
to they want to fire me i know
it man i can feel it back to i
can't wait until friday
day back to god why didn't i
clean my room this weekend
back to why didn't i fold that
laundry
all that laundry
back to everyone here hates
me back to why the fuck do
i come to this place back
to why am i so broke so fucking
broke back
to they want to fire me i know
it man i can feel it back to i
can't wait until friday
1820 | green to gold and gold to brown |
It is not a pain in the chest as much as it is an emptiness, a hollowing out of. And the welling water in the eyes hangs on the ridge of the lids, above bending lashes, the surface of rain that never falls. A feeling that is freeing but you step away from it because you do not think you deserve it. It is always there, just waiting for you to say yes, wanting you to embrace it, but you do not, and the chest is a cavern and the eyes are glass and you covet most the moment right before the water breaks. And by "you" I mean "me."
1021 | against my window |
he sat up in the dark. his dream was agitating once again. always. forever. never a good dream. rotating different types of anxiety served up on a nightly platter. almost like sinister forces control the dreamscape or something.
nah.
only crazy ppl think along those lines right.
in the dream a friend's father was cussing and being vulgar while talking to the dreamer and his mother. they were in the friend's father's restaurant. in real life the friend's father owns a siding business.
at some point the dream restaurant was owned by another friend. that friend did not cuss at the dreamer's mother. nossir. but i think drugs were consumed. or at least purchased. maybe. who knows. it is hard to describe dreams several hours later.
the bedroom was black. the lanky girl beside him was already awake.
he said FUCK it's 630 and started to jump out of bed.
she put her hand on his arm and said shhh listen - it's pouring rain and thundering outside and it is supposed to last until tomorrow.
hi sighed. returned his head to his pillow. no running today. no escape from the house without a car.
downstairs -
the dogs were whining.
and the youngest was stirring in his crib.
it was morning in old ohio.
[one]
nah.
only crazy ppl think along those lines right.
in the dream a friend's father was cussing and being vulgar while talking to the dreamer and his mother. they were in the friend's father's restaurant. in real life the friend's father owns a siding business.
at some point the dream restaurant was owned by another friend. that friend did not cuss at the dreamer's mother. nossir. but i think drugs were consumed. or at least purchased. maybe. who knows. it is hard to describe dreams several hours later.
the bedroom was black. the lanky girl beside him was already awake.
he said FUCK it's 630 and started to jump out of bed.
she put her hand on his arm and said shhh listen - it's pouring rain and thundering outside and it is supposed to last until tomorrow.
hi sighed. returned his head to his pillow. no running today. no escape from the house without a car.
downstairs -
the dogs were whining.
and the youngest was stirring in his crib.
it was morning in old ohio.
[one]
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