Haircuts go opensource

i've decided to reject 3rd party haircuts. from now on, i'll do all my own haircuts. my haircuts will be semi professional in nature, and open to the marvel and emulation of my peers.

collapse.

carthage as a summer resort

I just read this article on wired. all i can say is wtf. even if i have had dreams about pickpocketing someone's head from them.

collapse.

laughs to 4am

carpet. god i hate orange koolaid. my car is dying. the trashcan is fun of ramen packages. the sink covered in rice. I can't believe we actually went ahead and built the temple. its breathtaking.

i tacked a sheet to the wall with thumbtacks. it stayed there and i will reward it eventually.

hardly the event!

I spilled coffee on my pants and your picture is in my living room. next to a picture of my hamster with a graham cracker in his mouth. music is alive. falling away. your case is cracked and slightly shattered, though the shattered is not so much as the cracked. it's just crackled. it looks like a keychain, all dangling by 10,000 hopeless threads. oh you dislike the hate and like the false? ha. i'm sorry, again with the melodrama.

i once wrote a letter to a girl. it was meant to be a giant, "fuck you, i hope you understand that now, i'm not the idiot here!!!!" but it turned into something more. I ran into her once, but I lacked the balls to place the letter on her windshield. i wrote it, and held it in my wallet. GOD DAMNIT! i wish i would of simply put it there, without a word, when she wasn't there. she would of discovered it, and read it. what would she of done? i'll never know. Wait, it is not too late. i could do it now. that would be the epitome of hilarious. but it will never happen. after all, i forsake her. THREE TIMES. ha. she's never seen it.

gah, the coffee is kicking in. i'm regaining sanity and all of this looks like shit. I know that this isn't true deeply though. It is the truth.



TRUTH

drunk again, i can write again

everclear. whoever came up with the name of the worlds greatest alcohol was a genius. because he was right. everclear. i ate some everclear and drank some cookie dough like it was water. the truth resonant. my friend mark reminded me of the jocund. he was wrong. but i can't deny the light now, at this moment. the light is bright and it comes for me. jackson five were never so happy. life transcendent!!!! the feral ascendent!!!! wolves from your past and jackels from your future. a man with a brow ridge more pronounced than the words he speaks. the feral ascendent. i can say no more of the life that i read and the ramifications it brings. drank from the ivory chalice, so grotesque, so comforting. love. it comforts me. UNFORTUNATE BALLEDS OF LOATHING AND LOSS! ha!!! the words meant more than the song. and for that, i'm sorry. the song should of come first. I cant imagine now, the time that brought that about. the words that were spoken were but shadows. but the shadows can only exist with the light and with the death of the light, the shadows burn too. gone and forgotten. i live from clementcy. I swore by it. but it wasn't accepted. it wasn't granted. the loss was unbearable. collapse. and then collapse again. until there is nothing left. the materials that spawned the original have gone their seperate ways. deconstruction. desolation. a postmodern dilemia. all has disappeared!!!! ah. until i find myself in servitude to something that never existed. never existed. how can this be. I KNOW HOW THEY FEEL! the countless multitude, watching their passions dry in the setting sun. Only the lucky scrape by.

HA. but who am i to worry! sleater kinney! fucking slut. she claims to know what i know like it's a fucking miracle that everyone doesn't experience the full glory of worthlessness. hahha, worthless to your lover. she seeks a better cock to please her. you should get student driver tattooed on your balls.

rambling of a saint

we don't have much left. there is nothing we can do. the speakers have spoken and we are cast out. vampires!!! what can i say about vampires that hasn't already been said about afghanistan. i never thought it would be like this. the line is so cliche but I seriously never considered the fact that it would be like this. until of course it was like this, then i had cause to worry. smoking cigarettes in the garage. smoking cigarettes on the porch. getting drunk so i can understand myself with the forlorn hope that one day, perhaps, one day, i will be able to understand others. i wonder what doyle brunson thinks of all this. fuck that, the guy is old. but i've always thought that those with an innate knowledge for anything at all are blessed with the fruit of humanity. an innate knowledge of games or sport, an innate knowledge of humans themselves. these are things to consider. perhaps people can rise from their upbringing, but perhaps not. i think that their upbringing makes them everything that they will become. my own upbringing was infinitly desolate, but i suppose everyones is desolate somewhat. infinitly so is a little superlative. and then, perhaps i am making nothing into something with my constant thought about nothing. the tides of time are like playdoh to me, i make them into whatever the fuck i please. this isn't healthy. and perhaps a bit on the arrogant side. for this blog itself is simply a rendition of loneliness and despair. and so the tides of time shift to form a destiny of woe for me. i cannot defeat it, it is in itself self defeating. and to think that i actually hate melodrama. i like to think i hate it, but the fact is that i revel in its simplicity. it is easy to simply hate everything and everyone that you see. to only see sadness and hatred is so very simple. to see love and joy is harder. to feel love and joy is perhaps just a delusion of the heart.

god, i always hated that. how people refer to their soul or their being as their heart. it is not your heart. your heart is an organ. it beats blood. it will kill you when you least expect it. you should make up a name for the quickened pace that you feel when anxious or drugged. your soul. your being. everything that you are. don't degrade it with the crass falacies of a worthless existence. imagine that the things that make your heart quicken and beat out of your chest are intermediaries to a greater existence. to transcend! that is the goal. not to simply to describe. to say nothing is better. it is the best. to say something is to open yourself to critisism of the worst kind. the kind that is very very true.

and to you, the imagininary audience, i open myself. with all my heart.

memorable movie quotes 101

Childhood's over the minute you realize that you're going to die.

rampage

omfg this is the coolest shit. no. the lives we are living are nothing but cables connected to a great work of art. lies and deceit the whole. you wish that time would forsake you so that you'd have a story to relate to everyone you've ever known, but time never forgets and the path you've chosen is riddled with the discarded hopes of those that have taken your path before. because your path is not special, it is merely an anecdote describing your eventual destruction. merry we three join the great hope as it stretches from ocean to ocean to land and to ocean. false prophets, the lot of them. but even in the lies that spill from the mouths of fools, we can find vindication if that is indeed what we're seeking. release from all that plagues you can be yours if you'd pick up the pace and stop laughing at the seriousness of the whole affair. the dusty road isn't new, its been there for all eternity waiting for the feet that you have, the feet that even your friends, family and other contemporaries have. they told us we were special and then showed to us the well worn divoted road on which we were supposed to carry their proffered burden. god damn i'm sick of emotion, and god help us all if its sick of me.

String Theory

Today, I watched the largest branch of a large tree break and fall. It fell through the air and splintered on impact with a loud crash. No reason. Just mystery.

Quarters with Teeth

A man walks into a tollbooth to make a call to his wife. He searches his pocket for a quarter, to his dismay, finding only gum wrapers and a bit of lint. His blue jeans are too tight for a truly through search and it takes much effort to simply reach the bottom of his pocket. He curses politly under his breath, but then feels something against his hand. A warm wet sensation on the ends of his fingers. Startled, he draws back his fingers only to see normal, healthy, uninjured, dry fingers. A sigh, revoking his childish apprehension, and the fingers go into the pocket again, right into the waiting fangs of the unseen. The man issues a scream, but it is cut short as his shoulder enters his pocket. Soon there is nothing left.