'my daddy he disowned me cause i wear my sister's clothes... he caught me in the bathroom with a pair of panty hoes!'
-cheech and chong's up in smoke

fight for your life
make me cry
hurt me good
break me like your horse
make me yours
i'll follow your lead
make me happy

i want a family im safe in

flying bowler hats as spaceships

cardinal commanding respect

I think I really appreciate that I have so many enemies. I know they all hate me for the right reasons.

beetlejuice wrote a book of life in my dream and it was my bible. he grew and sobered and no longer asshatted himself up his butt, but instead up the butts of ignorance. no one believed me, like no one believes conspiracy theories. only I knew how true his words were. he was my role model as a child. He must represent myself in dreams. I hope i meet him one day there and can speak to him, truly speak to myself.
who are you?

stop editing

you've got to earn my love.



if you hate being a bitch so much mercedes, then why do you do it ALL THE TIME

i find music in public cafe's very annoying; i go there to work, write and think. motherfuckergodammit. rarely, do they play work music.
or at least my work music.

'wull, how bout, insteaduf trying to change myself, i just, accept myself____'
words from mouth to self at 4am in bed.

'you never forget the names of the hot, stuck up bitches'

Aunt Tillie on her deathbed: 'I had a good life, I ate a lotta shrimp.'

I just wanna be happy..

falling in love does NOT help

'how many tickets does it cost for a KNUCKLE SANDWICH!!! OOOOOHHHHhhh'

-I found a cafe that plays work music. It's all used to be obscure but now becoming trendy 80's newwave. SCOREee.

there’s a secret megalomaniac in me

love is weird

don't be afraid to be who you are, just do it and see what happens. I might get killed a lot sooner than I would've if I was playing it safe and not actually living my life, but at what cost. fuck that

on reading authors

life clutter hell

chopin breaths with me

reading books, though you may not be directly in contact with the author and the author may be dead or alive friend or foe, you are basically 'hanging out' with the person who wrote said book. Reading books, is hanging out, with people.
that means I'm not alone if I read. I'm so afraid of being alone.
I can read now and think I'm not alone dad (world) (I meant world by dad.)
(and I guess I could with time be comfortable enough or aware of my surroundings on an outer body level of unclouded awareness to, by saying world, actually mean universe and galaxy.)

humanity takes baby steps, or shall I say, humanity IS one big baby step

So I've been talking to the awesome baby boy I met

'New York in celestial blue and silver' francesca lia block

there's this baby on the couch behind mine I've been talking to at filter, this cafe i like doing homework at, and he's just really cool. he has these crazy big deep blue eyes and funny blond hair that sticks up right in the middle, and he literally like, communicates with me with his face- i can see him registering information and reacting to me. he's like 1. it's awesome. he has two little giant teeth growing far apart from each other.
I taught him how to flip your hands upside-down and make funny hand glasses on your face. I don't think he'll be able to do it until his ligaments develop a little more, but like- when I started doing it step by step for him he stopped smiling and started watching my hands and what they were doing. i think he totally got it.
and then he was crawling all over the place and fell, or something, something startled him and he started crying? but his voice, it sounded like a raged opulent hell gliding bird, it was fucking beautiful. this kid, this kid is filled with something that's gunna be way powerful one day, he's like, got the juice man. totally.
he's totally flirting with me. that's what it is.
I just got played by a 1 year old. damn.

I took a photo of them and got his mom's email so i could send it to her.

a nymphomaniac is just someone who has more sex than you. -alex halbert

Fritz Perls says, "the only way out is through."

'If we led our lives according to the ways intended by nature,' wrote French author La Boétie in his book The Politics of Obedience,' we should be intuitively obedient to our parents; later we should adopt reason as our guide and become slaves to nobody.'

I'm so busy being POPular that I don't have time for SCHOOL

two people made love to me last night, but first discovered how to do so without making me go insane due to post traumatic incidents. mother, fucking, props.

base through ceiling, distinct sound, certain individual feeling

I just have to kick EVERYTHINGS ass, I have no choice

'turbo-capitalism' = recent economical developments form 2000 to 2010. -Edward Luttwak

al porto has been with all of the bitches

a nymphomaniac is just someone who has more sex than you. -alex halbert

the people you can't stop thinking about

evil little boys with secrets

my chosen lovers are my favorite people, because, they mentally stimulate me in some way or another, or more enrich me as a reactional (learning) entity . they have the ? that ? we all know as people but can't figure out the identity of, they have the _ , that I don't . the _ that I need to be more complete as a reflection of the universe's never ending pyramid of reaction and reality.
react
real
reality is composed of constant unending reflections spreading and changing constantly throughout the entire pool of existence
when we die, will we be allowed to see what's around our previously immediate bodies and planet?

does the truth about what someone thought or felt or did really even matter? the only thing that matters is right now- and what you're going to do, however you figure out how to do it

small child immediately devours my attention always

I like imagining our species like an ant colony, doing everything in order and formation without knowing.

why do formulas re-occur constantly without effort, and blend so seamlessly to not be noticed
who's brain started all this

I've almost gone completely notably deaf

the fish singing around their bubble
their bubble, as in they are inside, whoever they are, watching the fish swim around them with care love and happiness directed towards them, little gold omens of fishy well being

I've been playeda fool for 6 years by an asshole who I thought or wanted to think was someone who cared for and loved me, and I just now after all this time got it through my thick retarded cranium. my goodness, nice to meet you self respect sir, you have lovelyteeth

on trying to make music:
yeah, all i can say, even though it sounds dumb is, just make it and keep making it whatever it is even if it sucks
i swear
i started doing that and it's getting better

'if your worried about being comfortable you're not gunna get shit done. you won't be comfortable working. deal with being uncomfortable, hungry, tired, whatever, and you're work will flourish'
my friend Javier

please don't clown your light out al porto

instead of peace as a goodbye, 'peaces' - sam mewton (mewtown)

reality beyond the capacity of our brain

I caught a bunch of people on fire

By accident



drunken boat

I hope I'm being a nice person

writing into a story

Why is someone who works for the NSA in charge
of an information feed from every major
Internet provider and Telephone Company
At AT&T?

it could be that there are aspects of reality that are beyond the capacity of our brains- Jonathan Leake
'http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/science/space/article7107207.ece


huey dewey and louie, burglars


And the prostitute in the hallway gets her picture taken. -emma weber


deaf musician

couch drifting off to sea

what's the point in writing love letters when they'll never make a difference in this place


I think even if you separated them they'd still talk to each other - lis cross, talking to abe about his word cut ups poetry assortment

immediate-esque, sexy-slimey sounds - lis cross

having to be like god to be with god - lis


angels sticking their fingers in christ's wounds on the cross

don't call yourself stupid or you'll die don't you get that now?

This Bud's for YOU

Bock's House is like

My Dad's House

I grew up in a garage

Filled with drunk shouting men

These men raised me

I've missed them ever since I left when I was 13

I've never had them since

I would beat all their asses at poker

Because I was the only sober one

I won 17 dollars from them one night

Coming from poor, drunk, mountain dwelling

Single toothless bastards,

17 dollars is a lot of money.

I discovered a house in Chicago

Inhabited by men from my college

Who are not typical slimy art school males

They are men. Not unlike mountain men.

They have spines, and they are not afraid

To fight each other

Wholesome, alcoholic, porn swapping men

I walked into a house

Not Bock's house, another's

Completely a nervous wreck

Disoriented, having previously been lost

Just another bad day. Happens to us all

The two fellows who greeted me at the door

Were clad in this:

The taller one

An American flag bandana

No shirt

Large military pants

One large knife in holster

And a perfectly childish lovable half-gap toothed smile

A little boy's smile, you know, the one kid you KNOW you want to talk lizards with

The shorter one

Thick coarse shoulder length brown hair

No shirt, beneath an

American flag themed leather jacket

With 3 large blue stars along the shoulders

Complete with 3 foot long

White fringe dangling all around him

And his goofy, unnaturally large smile

Sinister in the friendliest way

A daredevil in his own right

They both hugged me

I immediately felt resolved

Of all my previously harbored stress

We went inside

A large group of other young men

All sat around their kitchen table

Slapping cards down screaming profanities at one another,

Taking far to many shots with every loosing hand

A large mirror sat in the middle of the table, and a PARTICULARLY large pile of unidentified pills was there as well

Setting the unidentified drugs aside, I felt immediately at home.

One small giggling female,

8 large obnoxious men

Just like when I was a wee one.

Far more at home than I've felt in

Dunno

That having been said

I can disclose to you only,

The condition of the home

When we all awoke the next morning

Because that is all I can remember.

I was in a bed, back to back

With the taller half-gap toothed brother

Sleeping like rugrats

Wearing the shorter smiling man's striped t-shirt

With some blood on my arm

I don't know how I got into the t-shirt

Taller half-gap toothed brother, had a concussion

He discovered long after with medical attention

He apparently challenged a ceiling fan to the death.

Shorter smiling man, was bloody and bruised

Due to a two by four

Having broken off

And rapped around his elbow

The Kevlar vest they were proving invincible,

Did not protect his appendages, unfortunately.

The bathroom hallway, was flooded

I believe that was my doing

Though I have little recollection of this

And according to them

Taller half-gap toothed brother's large knife

Had been hidden away somewhere in his room

And the mirror of unidentified drugs

Had been hidden away and disappeared

Of which both disappearances were attributed to me.

I later, after having left my hung over demeanor

Texted the whereabouts of said missing items to the appropriate owners.

I remember, confiscating both items

When things got out of hand

I was impressed with my maternal abilities.

I have never felt so much physical pain

In my life

I have not returned to said home since

I do not really WANT to return to said home,

For fear of physical pain coupled with said house and inhabitants

But I see them all often

And I can say right now

That half my body is black and blue,

Due to a small friendly brawl I got in last night

I hate to say it,

But I really, really enjoy

Becoming my parents.

It just feels like

I'm surrounded with family all the time now.

What I like about these people,

Is that they'll do crazy shit

Reckless shit

But they always end up

Taking care of each other

We all gots each other’s backs

It’s literally a family. The whole outrageous lot of them.

There are mothers, brothers, dads and drunken uncles

I never want to be away from family ever ever ever again

I'm at home again

Homo-depot

I live with a set of twins. They’re male homosexual artists. I have heard people call them the 'fashion twins.' when people ask me where I live, I say 'I live with the twins,' and they reply with 'you live with the twins?' I did not realize they had such a godlike status until I started answering that question. It's interesting to watch the novelty of it go to their heads, like it must have their whole lives. They each wear black and gold, or alternating black and white mesh, always above black dress shoes or boots. They, and all of their friends, once became unmanageably angry when I mentioned in a joking manner that they were a kind of 'hipster.' they are hipsters, but that’s just it- that's who they are, they embody the subculture, begin it- not emulate it. Funny paradox, identical originals. I fear they sometimes forget they're originals, follow each other in safety, subdue their own individuality, become what they hate- trouble. One is nice and very maternal, the other is also nice, but more sarcastic and edgy. One has round softer features, the other harsh and angular. They are together always. They have begun to collaborate recently; they are generating three-dimensional digital copies of themselves, joined at the back, work on it constantly. Some sort of performance piece most likely. They fight. I have never seen siblings together, because I don't have any. They antagonize each other, and feed off each other’s hostility in the most toxic way. It pains me to be in the room or hear them in the bitter state of petty argument, just like watching my parents before they were divorced: pure terrible. I will not miss it.
The maternal one just delicately burped in the other's direction, and smiled. The edgier one hit him. They enjoy it. Enjoy hurting each other. I don't understand it.
They’re black clad posse is cultish and disgusting. I wish the twins weren't as associated with them; they seem like such empty cruel insecure people. I don't see why they need that kind of weakness in their lives, they are worth so much more. All the parties they throw, when they have friends over- I feel dirty with them. And when the group is all together, they change; individually, they seem to be potentially nice, kind, good and interesting people- but together, they become rude, exclusive, boring unkind cruel people- they give each other the power to be bad. Its a fear and power game to them. I hate them.
The edgier one just dedicated a song to the maternal one. He said, 'this song is dedicated to you. It's called, I don't like you anymore.' this is constant. More than often it is funny and uplifting, but when it becomes malicious and cruel- is it worth it anymore at that point?
They cut each other’s hair every three weeks. I watch them. They die each other’s hair more frequently. Every night before they go out to a party, a gallery, some fellow black clad posse member's humble abode, I watch them frantically dress, relying completely on the other and often myself for advice. I love it when one comes to me asking if something looks right, I like knowing I can advise such sophisticated fashionistas. Their wardrobes correlate and differentiate in the most peculiar and interesting ways, that I find myself wanting to diagram each detail, photograph what they wear each day for a month. Add it all up into one final peach of a truth.
I am secretly, brimming with anticipation to discover the truths concerning their mental demeanors, weaknesses, ways in which they rely on each other- the health of the relationship. I not only care about them, but also slowly have become fascinated by their unusual co-existence. I moved in with them having never really spoken to them. Just as I am leaving I realize I am deeply interested in them as people.
We are all moving into separate apartments tomorrow. The twins of course are living together.

rearranging deck chairs on the titanic, it will (f)elate your soul

I hafta control myself

trying to write this comic, ready to get my ass burned when it pisses people off with some sort of inauthenticity pertaining to masculine behavior hookers or trucking

soothing my soul with calmnation tears

watching my roommates, the 'fashion' twins as people call them, gay identical male artists who continually antagonize each other and collaborate often, figure out what to wear frantically together everyday is so amazing.

helltown helptown faceplantincloudtown failtown clown cars and fat chicks match up well. 

life is literally a giant fucking video game with googles of layers of levels blurring over each other

just reinforce me please

kelly nicole monson is rearranging deck chairs on the titanic
that was brilliant kelly

we control people on our terms
we help people on their terms

in response to the poem at the beginning of soap, a book by francis ponge
-put a bar in the microwave
ontop of a paper towel, it will
(f)elate your soul

my shovel is bigger than yours

toucan town

chef's radio:
'if you can piss 6 feet up in the air without getting wet, NO DOWN PAYMENT!'

eating faceless




I am my parent's children

my parents are my father's friends

my father's friends are badasses

my father's friends ain't no dumb shit men.




I can see now, more clearly than ever, how things are controlling me. the ways in which I unknowingly control others.
I see it when I unintentionally control others, subconsciously i guess, but I am so perplexed or embarrassed by the potential situation, fearful, that I do nothing. i wish i was able to think on my feet and correct the situation, for the love of the people around me and their freedom.
I'm gunna start 'trying' to do this without skinning my face off on the pavement.
when i am being controlled, i seem to just let it happen, as if i wanted it- i have attempted many times today to resist, and do something else, what i should be doing - it is very, very difficult. I've just seen all these things today.
I'm going to test the shit out of that to, and break it in fucking half. i hope. i mean i think i am. i mean (the cartoon beetlejuice would think this out loud, and lydia would pump him back up and give him confidence again by believing in him)
My mind is warped by the people who raised me, and their disabilities- more their chemical and alcoholic dependencies. =codependency. =crazy fucking confused problematic bitch.
I'm working on it.



i don't even have a shovel. you win.

your brain makes me squeal with girlish delight

using the power of truth in art to improve the quality of life for family members
feartime

exhausting known avenues

creating new avenues

I want to sit beside the Queen, sit beside the Emperor
its an ability to serve thing
people. shaking my head

right hand man-woman

availalable

he's catching your fish-filled lagoons aflame! dowsing your bonfires with every raping crescendo! eating your souls with such disrespectful leisure, like baleen plates purloin plankton! GO KIDS, GOGOGO!

8bit legit

alyssa's motto: use and abuse

god slows time down for me when I am in need

vicious bowling cigarette raping white trash burnout makupcaked bitch.

red hot oink

frosty the fuck face

humans are stupid things. rocks, now that is intelligence.

'I'm going to have sex with the souls written into your books'

my dreams become realer and realer every morning. It's a reality. I know it.

real realer reality
couchcrampcrunch, fuckers (it's a dance from the trailer infested faraway deserts, a place to party, a place to be home)

writing the themes for your own fantasies

you terrify me. I must say, as an authoritative figure.

Oliphander the Unstoppable

you're in the city leone. I've heard all about how beautiful you look in the elevators when cited by my explorer roommates, they go into the wild of the deep artschool holes in our city, and find you! the rare and treasured leone reevus monster, powers uncountable.

introvert penis pie
?

pomegranate photo is arousing. pineapples growing as well. whats next.
the pomegranate is broken in half in this photo, seeds falling out, there are so many it cannot contain them in one half. seeds. this is strange and interesting.

i feel like your brain is always ticking away at rocks bigger than jupiter
thinking things out and sculpting some shape in your head to make sense


(dear author i
obsessstalkjackofftodesire
of my choosing):

I'm going to have sex with the souls written into your books
when you look down to your nevermoving desk of subconsciousness realized and confronted below and see us,
I'll tickle the timid toes of your security

neophyte=a person who is new to a subject, skill, or belief

the way a pineapple grows is subtly seductive

and there it was, blending in with the tree bark, wings folded around its belly, a small lizard.

there's so many pregnant ladies everywhere and all i want to do is touch tummies but that's harassment. ):

my dad's etiquette iq is roughly estimate 20. one can innocently be an asshole.

I'm in a swamp when I'm in my happy intoxication location
there are fireflies and frogs and firecrackers

he makes me want it, OW! -basketball?

my heart does not beat with a tempo and it's ruined a potential career. whether it's prostitution, stripping or composing, i don't care to un-blur the options.

fat italian man takes a shit in a grimy truck stop bathroom reading the classified ads. 'hey, a 1,500$ 1967 karmann ghia that (I will never) could fix up!'

why are crop circles so preeeetttyyyy

'(Hermeticism)Holds that if we would attain to the Divine, we must aspire to the Divine; spiritual growth cannot be achieved without human effort'
-http://www.hermeticfellowship.org/HFHermeticism.html
there is little human effort in this day and perhaps that is the reason our world is in chaos. Or perhaps the world has always been in this state of chaos, and our time's chaos is a consistent heartbeat of the planet. I have a feeling that our time's heartbeat is far faster and heavier though, but I might just be really really stupid.

ascetic= potentially a dirty, dirty word

grimoires (definition- a book of magic spells and invocations circa mediaeval times)
grime
grim
?

amalgam! = a mixture or blend

neophyte, root of noob. (neophyte=a person who is new to a subject, skill, or belief)
-i realize that as a facebook status, this is friendly, opening arms to a conversation or thought, i am not attacking. this is because, i think, there is no period after the word belief. imagine that there was:
neophyte, root of noob. (neophyte=a person who is new to a subject, skill, or belief.)
with the period, does that statement not seem more dominant, as opposed to peaceful and neutral like the one before? with a period, i feel that as the writer of this status, I would seem to my friends more likely to oppose anyone with different ideas or beliefs than myself.
more importantly, by choosing to remove the period in this status, i and subconsciously choosing the road to peace and just confrontation.
facebook stati = the art of writing facebook statuses.

fake dying on the slide. 'i hate you bye.' 'noooooo!!!!' (down the slide...)

hope is lost, do not name friends.

I saw blood spray across a pick guard last night

jaw breakers: the new hope!

i see myself in the window reflection walking confidently like a cowboy.

"You telling these miserable, Hell-bound, bath house-wallowing, anal-copulating fags that God loves them!? You have bats in the belfry!" Fred Phelps (is fucking hilarious)

that's like bleaching your asshole twice a month, or fake tanning

sun, burn me up please

emily and I just covered an entire fnews magazine with red upside down crucifixes on each forehead.

andre to evan (twin 1 to twin 2): you aren't invited to my birthday party.

my mind is filled with cowboys indians and mutherfucking dragons bitches run in fear or be stampeded by sweet smiling revenge you sick deprivations of soul sucking glory

people have the ability to walk like a confident cowboy convincingly and in fact be filled with failure. it is perfect and awful
I am not exactly saying that person is me, but it might.






home planet: nevada city, sounds like the smashing pumpkins, smells like hippie and cheap perfume, magic. there's a lot of magic. calvin is a big part of it. court house. our play house to, calvin's pool, batman, big box of clothes, magic filled, different universes available in its clothing, getting punched in the stomach and falling into it getting stuck for a long time alone with the lights off, someone stealing my favorite fucking purple crystal from my mom saying i was lying on the big slide, they were older bullies, midge not believing me. death. people who helped me and my dad. that one mean girls parents, calvin's mom. my dad working for the city doing construction. the bridge he made with my name on it. that being my one claim to fame for a day. it made me cool. i was respected. i ran behind it into the woods along the river without permission. didn't get in trouble.
always winning the drawing contests at the pizza parlor on the first street and getting free pizza with mom. the kite store. the magic shop. the CANDY SHOP. late night sushi and bar hopping. hot summer nights and the christmas lights all over the town and the streets being shut off with all the people and the wizard who could throw fire in the air, the fairy store with all the big fake tall trees going up and building the ceiling, the herb shop's basement and eating organic pizza and playing with play-dough and my little pony with zoe in it. zoe's mom giving us free fruit leather.
zoe and cristy belly dancing and playing violin outside the store for money and getting in the paper. me being sad because they didn't invite me.
swimming in the pool around in circles with calvin to make a tornado. how the water was warm. wanting to cut it open.
calvin's bigger pool and garden, and weird al on his radio and trying not to slip on the wet wood while jumping.
madeline on rainy days. peppito was the shit. them not letting me play the addam's family for everyone because it was to scary. lame. playing witches and old lady mom in the tv room. that one weird hole in the wall we could sit in and climb up with our legs and our backs.
i fucking hate nap time. the mats were so cold. bastards.
time out. all the time.
the cult of cats zoe and cristy and other people i don't remember and me started with the facepaint, upside down cross exes on our foreheads and whiskers with noses, and torches to carry made of paper. the next day we asked for the same makeup and they wouldn't do it the same, we got angry and stole the paint and did it ourselves. they didn't say anything. ha.
crab apple tree. stairs to no where.
CAT TAILS across the fence! the fuzz! and the fake gas station and the bikes and the wet chalk drawing with that one hippie lady who babysat me with the moon's in her house and her boyfriend, the licorice plant that tasted like shit that everyone seemed to like a whole lot.

laying in the hammock at the back of the play thing in the shade on the hill, all the boys around me on the first wooden platform, and calvin telling his penguin joke saying 'DON'T TELL THEM MERCEDES' and me being like 'ok i won't!' and he tells them the joke and they don't get it and say something and i think calvin had just told them and I say it again and start laughing and he hadn't. he didn't speak to me for two days. I felt so bad.
playing hercules and meg with him.
that mysterious house on the hill behind the fence. it was beautiful and glorious. I want it to be my home.
kissy boys. we'll eat you alive.

fake dying on the slide. 'i hate you bye.' 'noooooo!!!!'(down the slide...)




ee, that face I just made? thatwasa no bueno face.

the twins don't like it when I fart in their presence. I do.

twin stacks- the two big ass pipes coming outta the top of a truck

atonal music
new universes open themselves to me rarely, but in groups i realize

reaching away from your home tree
single root stretching furthest away
is it involuntary?

bra clip caught on a guitar string

the rear of a 1992 Cadillac Allante is an omen of death and misfortune. Hopefully someone possessing a pure heart and practicing the art of baddassary will change that.

remember to write about man on train, david, red rust and dirt (blood?) on cuffs of suit jacket under long perfect white trench coat, that metal dog tag bracelet with the red rod of asclepius symbol on it, perfect white toupee, black leather gloves, his not being a doctor but a cleaner of sorts, that radio personality that died earlier this year who was a customer of his for 50 years, how his customers were like family to him, book of psalms, the bag dance we did on a moving train to find it- i didn't even know what it was he was going to give me, i just assisted him like a daughter wife or assistant with physically finding the thing, a total stranger, complete trust- that look on his face, that confident voice,
who was this man and why did fate hand him to me in such a fashion that i knew it was intentional?
and why does that little damned blue book have to read like a scary as shit bible?

ganja, fruit of the gods

unrepentant pas de deux

i like the wet hair dripping down my back after a shower with numb feet in a warm room.

COMIC BOOK NARRATION TECHNIQUE BECOMES VERSATILE!

he once pulled the moon down to the earth into this house by the strings of his sister's hair and the web of a spider that they befriended
-their mother in their warm loving den, her hands being used to speak of the pulling.



like trading cards. A new way to create
A new way to organize
A new way to think

I collected from my ridiculously large photo archives (that I keep obsessively adding to) about a dozen images that felt relevant to me at that time, and then wrote down why they were. Most of them were tidbits like the one up there that partners with the image.
I wrote a quick narrative for a 6 page comic in 30 minutes. -and the most important part of it was that I respected it as a narrative, nothing seemed wrong with it to me. It just was what it was, I tested it on a few different people, they had only a few corrections to add. Most accomplishing thing I've done in a few days.

made my heartstrings go ding bing ing

Foolish children.

roscoe's chicken and waffles

I have three small respectable treasure boxes I've collected and assembled from my lifetime.
I love treasure boxes. I love nice boxes. I love sorting prized objects, into very nice boxes, and then forgetting about them for three years until I find them again and transport myself into the past with objects that remind me of times and events that made my heartstrings go ding bing ing

nonexistent spins was my kaptcha
croquet chairman was my kaptcha
is ornament was my kaptcha
of treats was my kaptcha

If I was a prostitute, I'd be called Zook. Zook Zookity Zook.

the people I want disappear like misties

we threw shoes at each other
I wish I could get into fights like that
No one is that invested in me



Twisted Truckers

Betty is maternal and her fancy of him is sappy and repulsive

I HATE my FUCKING dispatcher.

oh mutherfucking goodness (Satan loads his cannons with Watermelons. -Abe)

WHAT IN THE HOLY HELL DID I DO LAST NIGHT/WITHIN THE LAST SIX HOURS

my mexican drove away in a van to prague with his parents an hour ago from my back porch with the amp he's left in my basement for a year

ah MAN i've got the BUG! BUGS! BUUGS! their EVERYWHEEERRREE!!!!

hezuh pullin on my heartstrings

'we should just call them, empty shells, and call you guys hipsters.'
-me, talking to the sheik ones in the school


solar plexus - gut
solar plexus |ˈpleksəs|
noun
a complex of ganglia and radiating nerves of the sympathetic system at the pit of the stomach.


the Dorsolateral Prefrontal (executive and logical) section of the left side of my brain, which is directly above my left eye learning a bit towards the center of my brain is in so much PAIN, it was INSTANT, i believe it's because i was using that section of my brain earlier in the last few hours exclusively a LOT more than i usually to do read for a class earlier than normal, which gives very complicated reading material that requires a lot of thought to really appreciate and piece together, and also working on the plot of a large narrative i'm writing for a comic. I usually don't push my brain this hard, not recently anyway. this is the price i pay for not keeping my brain as a muscle in shape. growing pains. mutherFUCKER.


Quotes:

​'When I was on acid, I would see things like beams of light... and I would hear sounds that sounded an awful lot like car horns.
​Like, we had a refrigerator with a hard-boiled egg inside, after a few days the shell started to crack. Eddie's first comment was "Man, this guy's a survivor!"'
-mitch hedberg

'you should look up to this person!'
'and not just because you're short!'
-ryan trecartin, I-BE AREA (Pasta and Wendy M-PEGgy), http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZR4sHDR-1XE

'he's says he's telepathic, but as far as I"m concerned, he's just a little paranoid!'
-Damiani, a drug dealer from RANX 1, Ranx in New York, the coolest comic I know produced by Heavy Metal

'There is a mean look following spunk in hair, a punitive upper-lipped look, like “Mister
you missed my face entirely,”'
-a methodical overture for coitusinterruptus, written by drew gamble for our poetics workshop lit class

THE FLOOR IS LAVA

what DO i owe myself?

my roommates are identical twins
evan has a large lump on the back of his head, and he and his family hypothesize that it is because andre sat on his head in the womb.
andre says is because their mom dropped him.

consider: nightmares are a test of character. what you do in your dreams inside a first person veiw still counts as credit towards who you are.

digging your own poonless grave

THE FLOOR IS LAVA

do you have a canning machine?
if you had a canning machine, you could can anything you want to can.
you could make anything you want, into treasure, by putting it in a can.
just think, of all that treasure.
god i love containers.

I want to make farting appropriate. how does one take on such a task? I want to make it an everyday perk. one of the joys of life not just for me (of which it is a joy to hear and do), but for everyone.
like a funny joke.

he's pink, he's small, he's furry and he's got 21 asshoes and can get pregnant

palindrome:
love
evol(ve)
evol(evil)

dear little pigs don't go into that cave. hot dog parties. you're all going to DIE. fine. sure theres cake. are you really going to ignore getting deaded for cake? you fattasses. cute little fattasses. please don't go...

Bonzo Dog Band - 'Can Blue Men Sing The Whites?'

small girl, bitter stature: '.....................I catch people like you on fire.'

to jasmine:
you rub off on me like dogs rub on stuffed animals

lightning dolt

I’m a flying titted coconut!

beastliness - sex

you don't need anybody else to light your fire. light your own fire. light your s o u l on fire.

exit the boat at the bottom of the ocean

I hang by all fours from your chandelier steeply and rudely stair around my butt at you deeply. (this is from a monkeys perspective, in a respectable household. this is not about anal sex.)

micheal martello and i found ourselves by mistake standing over a large frozen lake hidden under the snow while looking for a hill to sled down
it was outstanding

janey and pompy are so cool
Sacagawea and her son Jean Baptists Charbonneau where nicknamed janey and pomp, or pompy by lewis and clark

filling my cubbies with valuable things

finding the homes of previously thought to only be imaginable things

the word 'scenario' has a slightly negative connotation i realize

break ah rule like ah breadstick

I found the pair of shoes I wore into the scariest river in northern california I know like a worrier from 9 months ago covered in dusted mud in a bag berried in my shoe box.
I am wearing them now, and feel like a baddass.

i screwed up again and its really unfortunate.
my face is getting smaller my face is streetchiiinnng emily put it on my face
and now its streetchiiing

greece is fat

i'm poking the beast to see who he really is

Hey boy. Chin up. The sun is still there, he's just masturbating in the shower and all we get to see is the curtain.

put a snap in your walk

meche:
(fargo accent) i think you might need to go to rehab timothy. we wanted you to be a doctor, and now you're just painting naked women and getting high off the fumes. you might go to HELL timothy!!! why don't you come to church anymore?

tim: YARLGH IM NOT AINT NO HETHAN YOUREEALL THE HETHANS HERE AGRHAPPSSSS
(passes out on stoop while fleeing)


Tim:
what a romantic sentiment
yes
DAMBIT
never hear it

Nicole:
DAMBIT
i LOVE IT


my occipital lobe is in distress

baseball bat, jail, church, walk around neighborhood and apologize to those of whom I threatened.

my dreams continually beat reality. waking up is the saddest part of my day.

pig on a spit

the dome has taught me this:
you are everything. everything passes through you. you get everything. not just one of the two things that make up this universe, but both. you are not alone, and yet divided in your body you are separated from the rest. he is all around you. you are him. remember this. even if you die, you are still what you were. everything.
be good to all, for they are you.
be true to yourself, and therefore all.
do what feels right, because it probably is.
even if its wrong, you'll find out when you do it. then you can repair. both sides!


someone unexpected opened up part of me I needed
has the keys I lost to my car from 1967


do you know where you're minds been? over the last how many months? everywhere but here.



'Oh, dolphins, lazy stoners of the sea'
?

to andy:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mYmIu_njso4
'I'm may be cuckoo whacked crazy, but I'm pretty and witty to boot. that counts for somethin, right?'
...shit. i can't not write it now. there's a whole fucking scenario that goes with what i just said. it involves los vegas at night, a questionable busty woman dressed like a confident hooker and a big, dumb casino security guard. most likely I, the prostitute, am trying to distract security, from you, the guy who… befriended a hooker? Needs cash? sneakily acquiring the means to reach 5 lots of money. for some reason i see you reaching under a table awkwardly on your back for something and hiding from people above it. I have no fucking idea, don't ask me. this happened in my mind within seconds after writing that bubble headed blonde comment. yours truly.

to javier:
'you're in smarttown.'


COOLEST IN THIS NOOK OF THE ORB.


what are the possibilities of happiness out in the world that you haven't even encountered yet? there are many many possibilities. -grandpa hockey


take me with you
understand
i'd run to hell
quick by your hand


Preston and Meche figure this:
everyone pays their own price for their level of vitality
what's inside of you, what you have to work for, the stuff that hurts, thats how you pay
always figured that anxiety and depression were just the same beast bellow sea level
maybe they are just deep (sea) lovers always working together
depression and anxiety
happy in their own right
anxiety is the woman with brown long hair who is nude and thin like a 70s painting and depression is the blackness blob she lays entwined with on the bottom of the ocean watching everything around them



me:
the white haired albino dude in the tornados video gives me the funny bone chills
forrest:
he used his shotgun to shoot his landlady and then shot himself in the forehead



he is a planet in my solar system of lovers that is spinning away.

that, is what we call heartburn.



Saint James, or something:
6 adolescent boys, all wearing slacks, nice shoes, red ties collared shirts and suit jackets. One is taller than the rest, attractive and dirty blonde. There is one Indian boy, one who is stout with glasses and short black greasy hair. All the other boys blend in. One short, Indian, black haired, ugly, frumpy short unattractive woman with a large nose and think red lipstick and eye makeup on which they follow all in line for sandwiches into the Corner Bakery.
The tall one told me when he stepped away from that bitch he follows, I asked him: ‘we are going to a national senate debate thing, to emulate the senate and debate’ or something.


Nicole(me)
you're so evil, I love you.
Hieronymus (javier)
I pride my self on my villainy, its all a man really has you know.



are you gunna keep me alive now?

this is one of my favorite parts of life. sometimes, the goo a vagina excretes while sexually aroused is very very much like the goo a snail leaves behind on it's trail. this is my favorite part of the day.


(to rowaboatland)
hey boy
chin up
the sun is still there he's just masturbating in the shower and all we get is a curtain.


when i carry my laundry from my room to the machine and back i feel like i have a small animal or person I have to mother strapped to my body and it makes me feel silly and funny because this weird little shape and me have to walk around looking ridiculous and i LIKE it.

almonds, eating an entire life sustaining growth kit

chicago life. we all have pets that are space heaters and they follow us everywhere

fuck YOOOOUuu! I can say whaddeye want ta WHOOOoo!

my hair is growing long, thick, soft, rich, natural, it's growing for you

my mind is a broken pinball machine a rickety wind up car a galloping three legged steed

ritual through repetition, art, knitting
and almonds, eating an entire life sustaining growth kit
- anneli says these things


my memory is completely shot. like a dog, a dead, hole filled, fucking dog.

I had a dream where everything I needed was found. and then I woke up. many mornings this happens. this is why I sleep so much.

there's to many words in this, simpler

I feel guilty for most everything i do unless I'm with other people

banging drums

i'm trying to do it

can't you just be with me all the time, follow me like aku aku or the little green firefly, tinker bell and loyal dogs, sidekicks and advisors

to build one of you with a heart i truly strive

I am not called upon, I am not texted so, I do not have a follower and I should not have a soul

who are you calling a sex addict

you talk about it you're not alone

my father once had seven earrings lining his left ear. It's the little things like that from a big complicated life that you shouldn't be able to forget.

my father felt love for a spanish non english speaking worker who sewed at the awning company he welded for. he said she was beautiful. he welded awning after awning in our city, and pointed them out to me every time we passed one, and noted as time passed in oakland and nevada city when they were removed or changed. The woman he eyed, who returned his smiles and flirtations was gunned down by her boyfriend in his factory late at night, and he says the cops didn't clean it up. they had worked beside each other for two years. he broke down drunk to me one night when i was 14, telling me between sobs that he had to sweep up the shattered pieces of her skull, and scrub the floor during the early hours of the morning after the others had left him to his business there. he has not spoken of it since, and I don't plan on reminding him. he is to good to be reminded.

writing quips

plates and plates and plates of sliced peppered tomatos couldn't fix the sinking feeling of having become a burning man

hat karma. something I firmly believe in

FILET MIGNON PLEASE

mermaids my-coal brie-futon
mercedes nicole brereton

tim schade marmalade
tim schade

the exchange.

tim lampschade

C L E V E R

the filet mignon of the english language

oh facebook, tell me the ways and hows of life, oh facebook, you are my guiding light, oh facebook, sell me what you like, oh facebook, can you also find me a wife?

tonight is weird. i miss you. i feel like a paralyzed man who can't shower. ):

Emily's goldfish Pumpum was swimming upside down. the twins were covering they're faces hiding, shuddering or 'oooh!!!'ing everytime it started trying to swim again. It's constipated. so now we fast him for three days and put a bit of salt in his big bowl. silly Pumpum. silly Emily. Cute Twins.

No emily chambers, I would not like to fuck you. I would rather attempt personally inserting myself into a saxifrage bush, than having anything to do with the demonic temptress who lives behind the cardboard devider we like to call a wall in our basement. No emily chambers, I do not want to fuck you.

pounding head in big soft bed big fat room filled with orderly wardroob

I just keep pushing myself a little bit harder, always, one step at a time, even when I can't

All finished. my dick isn't only bigger than yours little rock, but its covered in FEATHERS as well. that's right. you sink into that river. i'll just fish you out later, like normal. ... .... i love you little rock don't ever leave me please


flying flaming cats attack the bastard faces of the men who pushed ico the horned warrior boy down the deep depthy dark wells of oblivion, FLAMEY PUSSYS IN YOUR FACES YOU BASTARD MEN, BURN BURN! that’s right.

whenever grandpa says anything like 'amanda's pregnant and getting married,' and then 'well i gotta take grandma's turd sample downtown,' everything is twice as funny and a lot better

must climb back on top of life rock

fucking encased boning birds and your high maintenance torso rigging dowl sucking stupid..... you know i love you i'm just stressed out, please don't cry chirpeeckra

"The 30 piece Idyllwild Arts Orchestra scores film compositions by Casey, Jonathan & Mint" -ira. hot damn idy, you just got me wanting you back again and again, i've never met a girl like YOU befoooore

drunken torch lighting, stomping out fires, light fixtures pouring 30 year old water on mexicans, drunken climbing of bell towers and isopod dome rafters, lovelies pissing off the top. and some piano hammers. aggressive renegade pidgeons.


old molly hare, whatcha doin there, sittin on uh haystack shootin at ah bear

I wish I was a horse. so 1, I could have a bigger dick than yours. and 2, I could have blinders to make me concentrate on other things than wishing I was a horse.

'oh Roger... you were magnificent.' 'reeEALly?' 'better than Goofy...'

.... evil little boys with secrets....

jeez mister spider! your butts even bigger than MINE!

so, tell me. does this stroke your..... fancy?

ocean waves pull back my ways, of perceiving where i stand, at first its cold after we're friends, i want to take the water's hand

'you're just a crazy nigga joe. just a crazy fuckin nigga.' 'we're all crazy niggas! you're pigeons a crazy nigga! that's why i'm gunna kill et!' 'i'm jewish joe.' 'you aint there. I aint there. your pigeon aint there. he flies high like he's there, but he only flies when you open that damned cage.' (jewish boy sets bi...rd free.) 'ok bird, fly.' (bird lands on roof cable antenna.)
-heavy traffic scene

my daddy's ball's are bigger than your daddy's balls.

the bea-ich.
-jasmine marin

Sometimes my tounge gets ticklish when I eat chocolate cake-dad, on ticklish tounges. She was horribly disfigured-mrs napauli on his dead lizard mummy collection

Trolly car cables stretched like spider's webs above the once sophisticated, now tourist flooded fisherman's warf of San fransisco

my dad just said to himself, thinking i couldn't hear, in an old lady voice quietly: 'now everytime i have sex, all i can think about is taking a crap.' ...

dear nancy the lesbien next door, even though all the cristians here hate you and i've never been alowed to talk to you, i'm coming to every party you host for the rest of when i'm in town. love, your little mercedes

HUNTER S. THOMPSON FOR SHERIFF

not knowing what you're doing is right, making your best guess, trying to be justly polite and deeply burying regret. Hey tulip lick the air hey tulip be prepared

nice car? 'my dick is bigger than yours.'

'Don't break the table, fattass'

....fine. I'm really, really sorry for crashing your car, raping your mother and putting your cat in the microwave. but i'll make you a sandwich right now, if that's ok. ....hm? why am i still alive? ... you haven't killed me yet. get on your shit man, whatsamatter with you. you're going to fail your life class if im not dead in.... ! toast is up.

on the outside, I'm always Mercedes. But inside. The joker lives within. Always hanging by his feet, polkadotted boxers exposed in defeat beneath the stern look of the bat miles high, far above the streets.

Cold Brains Mutations don't call me lame. Dear magical door I'm painting please take away all my pain and make my knees stop aching like old rusty crusty peg legs, star i wished on last night do you hate me?
CX

TECHNICOLOR SCHEME!!!

I'm spinning between people because I can't stand myself and when everyone else is working I'm left going insane up on my big fat public retarded shelf WHO LIKES THAT WORD, NO ONE!


the wind blows my hair around like a man throws his girl around



that swings got some swingers to attend in the sun again.


the title of this note is a quote from Jasmine Marin.