| sean's note: |
[08 Jul 2009|05:38pm] |
new york, Okay bring your collar, no wait leave it you dont want anyone pulling on the leash in the giant kennel that is the city. Dog eat dog whose the biggest, the baddest, smartest, quickest or maybe you can bark so ferociously no one will fuck with your part of the pen. There's only so many bones and lots of competition so you better be quick or clever enough to bully, charm, steal it when no ones looking or your teeth are gonna get dull from a lack of sharpening and then your really fucked. Do you wanna live do you wanna die or do you only get water when your so thirsty you cry.
- sean must have written this this morning as the update window was open. hes never even been there so i found it pretty fuckin astute.
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[06 Jul 2009|04:44pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 drained |
] |
welcome backwards and forwards at once,
a grand juxtaposition of motion threw emotion
and the sick sadistic sound of shattered mosaics
that follows stagnancy or self- pity
father time speaks in silly riddles
we move on by
being strong
enough to go
back
and we go back
by being strong enough
to remember
we must only go
forward.
it is all very confusing
and paradoxical
lucky i learned
i am not very knowing
no i am not very knowing at all
just confused enough to
sometimes
make it
seem
that
way....
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| i wish.... |
[18 Jun 2009|04:30pm] |
tommorow i'll wake early
call down the birds
have them carry me to my cloud
where i can watch you with an eagle's eye
and make sure you don't hurt yourself again.
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[17 Jun 2009|07:20pm] |
huge static noise:
the exact sound of
the fly whose greed
curiousity
and arrogance
finally led
him into the bug light
where he was to big
to die anything
but a slow death
in the blue glare
of technology.
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[16 Jun 2009|02:48am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
stoned sleepy hot |
] |
I excuse your laziness. it hasnt dropped under 100 degrees and the sun is always RIGHT THERE right on your ass and back. If i didnt have olive skin i'd have a red neck but instead i just vary in browns. its to hot to sleep at night and to hot to be awake at day. The electric bill is threw the roof and we sit on chairs and wait for the shitty sprinkler to come around...and around...and around...and around...and we spin too, we spin away these melted minutes and become heat waves rising from aspholt just ahead on the horizen, each moment we get closer to something that only becomes farther away. I excuse your laziness. The air is thick with it, though the insects, reptiles and plants are much busier, the warm blooded mammels are melting.
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| you'd think that people would have had enough of silly love songs. |
[12 Jun 2009|12:57am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
drunk, high, heavy |
] |
i could write a love song
that would be sweet
but the beers almost gone
and you know me
sitting in my underwear
drinking smoking lieing
yea i could write you a love song
but then i'd have to play it when your gone
and nights like these i'd rather be alone
maybe it would be real sweet
some childhood love affair
that lasts till death
he could meet me at my overnight shift
walk up to the diner for coffee refills
talk to me between shifts
and walk me home at dawn
maybe it could be a more intense song
where we fight untill we fuck
and lay in bed all day on drugs
promising fairy tales
and spending the night in jail
or
it could be a catchy pop rock song
about traveling with a wild girl
all the corny lines i spewed
between all the dirty drugs we used
yea
i could write a love song
i could be prolific
i could be a fuckin minstrel
keep um rollin
hit after hit
bout how i thought for sure
they were perfect and this was it.
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| blunted lazy thoughts-newspaper internship-comedy performance i didnt bomb finally |
[09 Jun 2009|08:33pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 accomplished |
] |
-gotta clean the bathroom and clean charlie cuz he got cherry fundip spilt on his hair.
- but i fear the bathroom
- i was peeing and a tarantula ran across the wall, this happened before with a brown recluse. country rugged man killed zee beasts with no fear and being scared is stupid, spiders are helpful and only attack when they sense fear because it releases adrenaline in response as a survival tool.
- remember that spider that won a spelling bee in its web or some shit to save some pig...that was a book we read in school...IT MUST BE TRUE!
- what stupid fuckin town folk to think a pig would use a spider web's silk...cuz u know it's hoves are so delicate, and it has silk glands, and a little rocket jet to get up in the corner.
- i gotta read that book again. what was the point of that book? thats like the one book i can't grasp/
- besides spiders its like 98 degrees and what if nick lache pops out of the mirror
- i need dale gribble
- its pretty much heaven to be molested constantly by your man.
- but if it was whoopie goldberg it would be a better conversation starter.
- and if it was a small mexican i'd be working at the diner again.
- i love freckles, they look like sprinkles. they make me wanna eat the pale soft skin they always rest on.
- All the ugliest people in the world are in georgia walmarts.
- i love big lips. they look like strawberrys or some delicious candy.
- i love how all the obese people walk around in those moo moos with the bikini body on it.
- in the application process of being a volunteer field writer for the south east GA newspaper
- the worst written, least read, lowest funded newspaper in the world (see im a great reporter i exagerate facts)
- No one works their under 60. The women wear big hats and are very round and chatty. The secretary was pointy, even her hair. Good for her. The men wear suspenders and make "hub bub grubble grub hibbah whatcha WHO!? WHO!? WHAT!?" sounds as they shuffle around in loafers.
- The person who interviewed me had a hearing aid. he was head writer...in i walk, cute little sundress, earrings, bracelet, a red rose clipped in my hair, perfumed (as if the ace didnt give it away) with this monologue on how a young, motivated, go getter, ESPECIALLY ONE SUCH AS MYSELF, who is great with people of all classes and ethnicities could offer a younger, more energetic approach...I introduced article ideas; like interviewing local business owners and residents of our lovely ghetto about there protest of the gant jail being put in, and then interviewing the politicians to have a balanced view although i would question why we need more money and if theres any other way to get it... i talked about mabe doing personality pieces where we write profiles of eccentric citizens...
- He shrugged opened a "Reisen" candy and said "only got 7 writers, most the girls just give house tips. strickly volunteer work...welp the good lord does give chances. maybe give yah a week or two try yah out, see if that ace isn't just some wacky mutilation of god's temple.
- Then he told me theres a ceremic pets showcase in Jessop, the grossest city i've seen, he could put me on...or the red hat lady banquet in savannah...
- As I was leaving he mumbled "yall written for papuh or summin before?"
- I got offered a job that paid 12 dollars an article for the sports and events section the suntimes newspaper on eats long island NY when i was a sophmore? (i didnt tell him i hated sports and declined) 'nd did work on the school paper, as a writer and political cartoonist... though thalen caused me to quit by 11th. I also get paid a fee to write a newslater for chiropractic patients every month...
- aiiight papuh work oughtuh be back by tersday an' seeya at the next meeting "Ace" he held my arm for a while and then just mumbled.
- as i walked threw the hallway i met the reporter whose work made it so if any part of a mans underwear sticks out of his pants he can be heavily fined.
- i commended his work...
- he just looked at me, nodded, mumbling all the while and shuffled by...as i watched his high waisted pants and suspenders complimenting that ass so well, my hormones resentment for the lack of cute boy boxers sneaking over sexy pelvis, outlining curve of a sexy strong lower back, i looked at him shuffling by and smiled. if i can actually pull this off...just cant mention...this is heaven.
- the open mics i have done comedy at have taught me being a comedian is about knowing your audience more then anything else...
- by finally applying this...i did not bomb or get my ass kicked for once.
- Case Point:
on the last i began with sattire...the younger crowd was chucklin...well sean and one guy brought me a drink and in my palin voice i said 'now McCain if i buy you the strawberry poptarts would you eat them cuz their on sale but i don't want it to just sit in the cubbord like the spongedbobed spaghettios you had to have. Theres people in this world who are starving you know, we make money off um" but one heckler in particular (fat redneck) stood up and yelled:
"we oughta get deliverence on er lil fuckin ass make er squeel like a piggie"
after all the hands of jesus band crashes, boos, bottle caps, kicked outs, threats...i could keep goin. it would make me laugh...but look at my crowd here in a split second... who they were, considered their personalities, beliefs, stresses, and fears...
i just stopped looked down sadly while everyone murmered and reacted till it was kind of quiet and stood up proud and grabbed seans guitar, played the nine easy ass notes of the deliverence song; looked down sadly while everyone murmered and reacted till a tumbleweed passed and stood up proud and said in a booming dramatic voice: "It was a weekend camping trip, a chance to escape the office and enjoy the fresh air. Bert reynolds and 3 other guys no one remembers, venture into the Georgia back country. BUT a nightmare in which both nature and mankind conspire to send them through the psychological and physical torture of the danger and degradation of primordial cretons as evil and ignorant as the nature is gorgeous. Learning a lesson about the south they never thought they'd have to learn in their worst nightmare: watch out for large screaming men in army hats with buffulo sauce all over their face cuz as long as theres a wafflehouse or a what-a-burger around-he will find you, and he will yell at you..and you WILL care." then i played the deliverence song again, smiled and said "oh that handsome, muscular leading man, Burt Reynolds" used that as a segway for my "wish i had a mustache so i could stroke it when i wantes to be left alone and people would think i was considering something very important but instead i just have to say fuck off but you know that doesn't work down here...in ny we just yell at eachother, we're in a rush like ants in a colony...when i first came down here i saw a man staring me down and averted my eyes...in ny this is trouble, in the city i saw my first penis this way at 3, but in georgia he said have a nice day and smiled etc" bit which led to me just riffing on being a "yankee" and from new york. throwing out impressions.
when i got the signal to end the act. i brought the drunk heckler up, asked his name and thanked him for sharing his rich and thoughtprovoking ideas...he was so wasted by then he started hitting on me sloppily which worked out so perfect. of couse his genius response was "oh imuh share sumthin with u baby" yelled into the mic...then he grabbed my hips and tried to pull him toward him. PERFECT.
"oh no hot stuff, i like it wild...i need some real deliverence to know your worth it." i unhooked one of his overalls.
"wooooo boy, yah hear that? anythin' for you baby", he pointed at his friend who cheered him.
"I bet you can squeal like a piggy boy WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"
"SURE CAN sweet sugar" and course he starts doin a pig impression smilin at his friend
so i pick up the guitar play the deliverence song one last time
"YALL COME BACK NOW YAH HERE..."
or as we say in ny
"FUCK OFF"
-it was the first time i didnt bomb. i owned. i had balls the size of planets. im proud...and glad i've seen deliverance. i think thats the best feeling in the world, making all those people laugh at themselves for once...i felt like a fuckin hero.
0
- time for another blunt.
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| cherry ice pops and hash blunts have a way of easing even the most unbearable of anxieties. |
[20 May 2009|12:04am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 high |
] |
some one on the tv is dying some horrible mindfuck of a death. someone in a dramatic re-enactment is crying while clutching their cross. they cant stand to tell it and we cant stand to hear it so we all sit on our asses to see who can look more mortified. he fell asleep at the bloodiest part, when they pushed the last carcass that rotted to death from infection and dehydration out of the life raft and watched the 13 foot sharks attack it in the fetid blood, puss, and urine pool that was the life raft floor...thats when he started a soft snore...
i'm left awake stuck in my generation of voyuers, the same late night internet mantras flashing up on the screen... transvestites and webcams. Welcome to the land of the dead and desperate. we're all on film, caught on the web, sending satellite transmissions from lonely saturday nights...Nearly a decade later and the brand new century lurches on with all it's children dancing ever further up a technological tower of Babel. Andy warhol stated that "in the future everyone will have their 15 minutes of fame" and the internet allows people to do just that, or try atleast. out crawl the creeps and cretons, a prophetic vision from the first plastic pop artist.
and even the angry, upcoming writers are busy blogging, saying que sara sara, art evolves not dies while the poets moarn just the opposite idea and the religious are on the tv praising god for their survival while we sit on our asses in the lonely blue tint of satellite sent denial, twisting and turning, becoming more and more alienated and alienating by trying to use fiber optic wire to connect. age/sex/location, flick the switch, press the button, oooo lalala now thats what i call hooking up. who needs human skin when theres keyboards to batter.
PS
i'm the asshole who ate all the cherry ice pops out of the box.
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| my plans/hopes for the future |
[09 May 2009|07:18pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 high, obviously i cant stop |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
giggling at this idea |
] |
freshvans: lets get a cat and name it dad and then when people call it "he" get really offended and be like ITS A GIRL. GOD! MORON!
spacemermaid3000: LO!!!!!!!!!
spacemermaid3000: L!!!!!!"
freshvans: hahaha
freshvans: laugh out
freshvans: pause
freshvans: loud
spacemermaid3000: wed be like hey dad
spacemermaid3000: and itd be a cat
freshvans: HAHAHAHAHHA
freshvans: YEA
spacemermaid3000: LO!L!!!!!!!!1
spacemermaid3000: 11
freshvans: and we can be like "i have to go feed my dad"
freshvans: 'i hafta clean dad's litter box'
spacemermaid3000: HAH!
freshvans: 'dad caught a bird and brought it to the doorstep again"
freshvans: wait
freshvans: that is like my dad
spacemermaid3000: hahah! so true
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[03 May 2009|11:07pm] |
my eyes were heavy with that blank exhaustion that comes from a haunted mind. on the cracking elevator speakor a horrible rendition of earth wind and fire played as the woman behind me stared at the red numbers. "Going up my dear?" I said; warm, joking. her smile was despondent and nervous, fake to be most accurate..."don't worry everyone's going down." but while i smirked she shrunk back against the wall and fiddled threw a coach purse. 7th floor she exited and i headed to the basement, flask in my pocket and sat on a rocking chair watching the spider's weave their webs, relating to their work on skillfull and gorgeous traps.
I took the old record player and tied a dime to the arm so it played right. frankie sinatra started singing young at heart as i mixed a drink and waited.
when he arrived he was juggling dice and laughing. "snake eyes and i'll share my brandy" but he rolled a meager 4 and i shared anyway...he never had good luck.
"so whats the trouble my man" i muttered from a side smile.
Face of a city rat, tawolly lips, postulate, furtive, this scrabble of fake self esteem. He took a seat next to me, his beady eyes pleading, terrified but feigning assurance.
"I think someones trying to kill me." His whisper caused a cloud of cold air as the cement bounced winter threw the basement. He tucked his neck in his overcoat for warmth while I took out my gun and polished it leaning back in the chair, the furnace imitating hell behind me.
"they are" i replied casually.
"listen you got any of that shit i'm diein here" and the real point was made. the zombie eyes pleading, eyes sunken, face potmarked...a corpse, a ghost, staying on earth because he doesn't know where else to go.
sweating, pale, weak and dumb...i glanced in the corner and saw a struggling flie in a gorgeous web.
"fair deal..." i handed him my revolver and said theres one bullet in the chamber and if he survived he'd get a fix for tonight and tommorow for free. He grabbed at it like a starving man would grab at his favorite meal.
sure...the shot echoed, the needle on the record jumped. sinatra started on young at heart.
I leaned back and took a shot and sang along. Someone had been trying to kill him...the spider advanced down it's alluring trapped and devoured the flie without a second thought. a syringe fell from his overcoat as he slumped over and i picked it up and threw it like a dart into the hellish furnice.
as i sang along to frankie i looked at my devoured flie hanging helplessly from my web. "someones trying to kill you alright. and they just did."
and our devilish man finished his drink and humming, left the suicide victim to rot in the web of the universe.
on the elevator up he met a young homeless girl, riding the elevator to avoid the cold. he smiled wildly at her and told her he could keep her warm and safe. shyly she glanced at a used condom and a candy rapper and then in his cold black eyes. "no thanks" she whispered threw a matted and used scarf.
he persisted and insisted what could go wrong? "be careful of their webs she said" locking eyes with him..."it's never as pretty as they promise unless you find it for yourself".
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[02 May 2009|02:40pm] |
in red ink she wrote "I'm so lonely" untill it filled the wall. "this solitude is killing me i need someone to live for" finished her repitive plee. underneath she took the butcher knife and carved a horrid looking corpse of a little girl, decorated with her own blood. The other corner's paint ripped off and smeared with more of that red ink she poored from her wrists.
loneliness the cowardly little brother of proud death spilt in red across the room and i screamed "WHAT ABOUT HIS TWIN SISTER LIFE, ALL HER STRONG BEAUTY...SURE SHE HAS MOOD SWINGS BUT I AM SO SICK OF SUICIDES. OF SEEING THEM OF SAVING THEM FROM THEIR MOMENT OF PAINFUL PASSION."
and what would the ocean be without it's monsters???? a dreamless placid sleep with no nightmares to force you to except life and death are twins and in a world where life grows from every inch death must accompany it...
loneliness is but a coward. an adopted sybling born from you. push him in the corner with a dunce cap on and scold "how can i be lonely when i'm with my favorite person". pick up the brush the clay the pen a book and create...bring life back in so she can comfort you and say 'he has it all wrong, still learning; making him the most human of the family. but forget him now...no matter how placid the sea its still teaming with life!" she winked and handed her a sunflower which was reaching towards the sun like the girl had been reaching towards death. "just a lonely sunflower taking in as much life as it can get, a genius really."
as the girl bled more death had no choice but to arrive and investigate. he glanced at the girl laying in a pool of her own blood. he knelt beside her and whispered "your not alone, my sister and i are always here" and kissed her on the head.
"the canoe you think you are stuck in alone, battling the ripetides of life is simply silly. dive in and swim with the strange creatures who hide themselves below and soon you'll realize that seemingly impossible riptide was only the current of life and you'll learn to float on your back and stare at the stars smiling."
they never think of the people who love them and discover them bloody or blue...they don't have to. They're alone alone alone. with life growing like wildflowers around them they see only what they want too. and so fill there world with red blood and ink, the white flag of the battle of life. I cannot be mad that i've seen gruesomer scenes then the wrinkled tired faces of those who perform autopsys. I only feel remorse that my best friend life and I, never seem to get our point across.
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[15 Apr 2009|01:49pm] |
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woke to warm blues, smell of grits and hot coffee from long dream of man in swamp balancing on a huge old bronze clock with a giant alligator trying to knock him off into the water and eat him...he lasted all night till it got to shaky, and he lept from the tides of his thrashing predator to be riped downstream laughing by the current. Desolving like the milk and sugar in my coffee and robert johnsons sad southern drawl "she studies evil baby stayin up playin at voodoo wit duh defulls eeeeyyyyeeesssss mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm" these images drift and melt into another hot Georgia day.
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[31 Mar 2009|12:25pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
jerry springer |
] |
her hands were in folds congruent with rosery beads. A lifetime of counting sins; they shake and ask our business with the lord. They give out groceries to the hungery and we wait in a line that snakes with mostly young mothers and old maids. "If you open your mind to the lord he will bring his angels to feed you" she said over our screaming stomachs. If you hand your minutes to feed the hungery why give the lord credit? But I thanked him anyway before we opened the canned greens and corn and swallowed whole. Next time I hope he brings desert too. "I will pray for you." I remember she nodded, and regardless of taste in gods, my stomach thanked her before I could...
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[16 Mar 2009|07:35pm] |
freshvans: flight info for ny:
freshvans: dep jacksonville june 23 1055am stopover balt 1245 then 120 to macarthur at 220pm
freshvans: return: july 7 6am
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| NEW WORD |
[05 Mar 2009|04:27pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
high |
] |
SECRETE GAYGENT MAN = someone who thinks they're cool and infiltrate social groups by assuming cliche identities...you may think these people get it when ur high an giggling...but they repeatedly prove their working to fuckin desperetely to improve their own personas.
see also: thats so raven, foamet, or "fuckin dumb insecure unoriginal herb"
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[04 Mar 2009|01:46pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 bored, high, cold and smelly |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
buzzing music equipment |
] |
if i should wake up and the skys not there to greet me, should i be suprised? i've been told a promise is a promise...reality is concrete. i think its more atoms, tiny particles. this mirage of 3 deminsional reality and the horror of death teasing those foolish enough to loose themselves to it. i won't see you later mr. quig...i see you NOW.
on another note the classwar between our cockroaches has ended. all the roaches have food for their family and clothes for their kids. a roache can live off a single human fingerprint for a month's time!! maybe you think that makes them gross...i think it makes us gross. despite them beating us to the punch they still eat eachother so atleast we have that going for us; if only we had the innate economic genius of a cockroache...renewable energy wouldn't be an issue, i and my leisions of little roomates assure you.
sean got me a subscription to scientific american.
which is crucial cause US weekly is usually under the science section here.
hmmmmmm do i wanna learn about quantum nonlocality or that because someone snapped a shot of hilary duff sticking a straw in a cup awkwardly, this provides an entire article called "THEY'RE JUST LIKE US, THEY STRUGGLE WITH STRAWS!!!"
STIMULANTS FOR BUILDING NEW NUERONS
-antidepressants
-challenging mental problems
-exercise
DEPRESSANTS:
-alchole
-cigarettes
so i gave them both up...or atleast i'm trying to.
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| from the georgia times kid section |
[18 Feb 2009|05:39pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
pissing |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
me cackling |
] |
jasmine, 4th grade on who her favorite person is with literal spelling as printed:
"my favorite person is jesus. jesus has a nelqwilist and a wifu. jesus will love us and ckar. he is nice and harome. jesus is my favorite person because he is bave and stong he is my herow and i need him for ever i love jesus he is bave so bave he is all war with us pless rech down and give us good ixspirince and pless pless help us jesus and i love you i can not live with out you jesus he is my herow i love you jesus pless help us jesus."
well im glad theyr teaching them science
-mazz
this is why i get retartedly high every morning before i have my paper and coffee...
because my morning paper is fuckin genius.
...it is also why i don't wake up till 5pm...
because they do not sell scientific american anywhere in the GA ghetto.
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| "stank leg"... |
[16 Feb 2009|04:13pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
mornin blunted |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
g-spot - stanky leg |
] |
sean got fired but invented this insane hash mking machine...i am so worn from husseling-but we got shroom choclates and i did a ton and had no medical issues and cried in happiness cuz i need my mushie baby loves...me and sean spent the day intwined on our bed lauughing hysterically at these fictional characters i made up. then we made a feast, smoked blunts and watched cartoons.
i also died laughing cuz sean was like "oh yo i have to show you, they made a dirty south rap dance out of your fucked leg." and then showed me "stank leg"
everybody do duh stank leg:
AY!!!!!!!!!
this is the one dance i naturally excell at haha.
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| if i had a real about me it would say this: |
[12 Feb 2009|06:17pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
HIGHly serious. being very BLU |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
NT |
] |
I'm a 21 year old proud virgin and gemini with a cleft chin that compliments my billboard sized extended forehead. i sleep with dads and moms and uncles and aunts and ants. i love pants that make loud swooshing noises with the slightest movement and bedazzling everything i own (including my cats lol j/k)!!! i wake up early just to watch ellen and live off wheat thins and sunchips. i'm a double foamburger with cheese, no pickles. aim- sexxxkitten69...IM me to chat. ; ).
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| Lucky |
[03 Feb 2009|10:19pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 sick |
] |
she yelled
I WOULDNT BE SO DEPRESSED
IF I WASNT
SO BORED ALL THE TIME
ripping at her hair
she said
I'VE DONE ALL THE DRUGS,
HAD ALL THE SEX,
LISTENED TO ALL THE MUSIC
AND SAW ALL THE ART
AND MADE ALL THE ART
AND LOVED AND HATED
AND BEEN LOVED AND HATED...
AND ITS ALL SO UGLY
ITS ALL SO DULL
SO GREY,
she groaned
taring up her time-slip
violently
letting her
wasted seconds
fall in paper shreds
like dead leaves
to the dirty floor...
she said
THERES NOTHING LEFT TO DO BUT DIE
she rolled her eyes
as if aware of how
temporary and silly
these complaints
sounded.
YOUR LUCKY YOU HAVE A DISEASE!!
and she took a shot of whiskey.
why? i asked...
she yelled
YOUR DYING
I WANT TO DIE.
i turned the music up
over her and muttered
"it sounds to me like
your already
dead."
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troubledcitizen's journal