Devotion. Actually having enough personal interest and effort. Knowing that there is a part of me that does really want this. That I really want this. I really want this. There hasn’t been much interest this year in what I could devote my time into however the effort was there in what I had been given as an opportunity. There is no satisfaction in looking back at anything that had begun since those that had had ended abruptly and at my fault. When the day begins now I wake and rise and wash and walk away. Only after hours of monotony does any remembrance begin to reappear as both flashes of memory, either because those instances of life matter emotionally or because that instance has to be recorded in my permanent record, and as a sirens song from oceans away continually enchanting my mind. There are times that others have heard the call from so far away, and those times I turn my head I turn I heart I turn my soul another direction, any direction, so that the femme recounting in admonition tales of lust and woe will know that I have lived such tales and that I will forever respite in agony and ecstasy at this soul who had outlived and ran from my own pasts devotion to a constant splendor in the grass. It may seem now that the effort I put into an either known interest or one to displace them all dwindles as those memories begin to resurface.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Friday, August 21, 2009
reading anything
and it makes me want to write.
walter meego. that guy is like a genius. very hip. like in a lo key high fidelity type of way. i think its just a combination of the website design and the initial shock of discovering the 'star' song on youTube. i havent heard my brain melt like that in years. it was a perfect way to wake up at 5am. the last time i felt that was when i pushed too deep into my skull with either fingers or q-tips. like, "am i supposed to feel euphoric"
so, vampires. im not saying anything else.
hulu. nothing more, as well.
oh, and xtube. i love pornography. i need my daily dose of random guys lost in their own sense of euphoria.
nightlife. is. fuuun! im so not ready for it though. im thinking i should ask mommy for a digital camera, cuz i feel so lost without any type of device to release my creativity. it might be interesting to see what pours out. and in what colors and in what fashion they merge.
liquidity is a fun word. i never get to use it though.
new hair cut, by moi.
wearing my old leatherwares.
redecorating the bedroom.
meeting the cool kids. and the cool kids are in town tomorrow.
more vodka please. oh oh oh . the beer served last nite was so infantile that i felt innocently virginal in like a female way, and it made me feel uncomfortable just to hold the cup in my hand. like, "can someone please just pour it down my throat" or "slam it!"
listening to some banging music. and by some, i mean, very little.
i feel as if im writing poetry, only unknowinlgy.
ice ceam!!!! breyers has this like, mint chocolate chip that isnt green!!!! oh! makes my eyezcream.
walter meego. that guy is like a genius. very hip. like in a lo key high fidelity type of way. i think its just a combination of the website design and the initial shock of discovering the 'star' song on youTube. i havent heard my brain melt like that in years. it was a perfect way to wake up at 5am. the last time i felt that was when i pushed too deep into my skull with either fingers or q-tips. like, "am i supposed to feel euphoric"
so, vampires. im not saying anything else.
hulu. nothing more, as well.
oh, and xtube. i love pornography. i need my daily dose of random guys lost in their own sense of euphoria.
nightlife. is. fuuun! im so not ready for it though. im thinking i should ask mommy for a digital camera, cuz i feel so lost without any type of device to release my creativity. it might be interesting to see what pours out. and in what colors and in what fashion they merge.
liquidity is a fun word. i never get to use it though.
new hair cut, by moi.
wearing my old leatherwares.
redecorating the bedroom.
meeting the cool kids. and the cool kids are in town tomorrow.
more vodka please. oh oh oh . the beer served last nite was so infantile that i felt innocently virginal in like a female way, and it made me feel uncomfortable just to hold the cup in my hand. like, "can someone please just pour it down my throat" or "slam it!"
listening to some banging music. and by some, i mean, very little.
i feel as if im writing poetry, only unknowinlgy.
ice ceam!!!! breyers has this like, mint chocolate chip that isnt green!!!! oh! makes my eyezcream.
Monday, August 3, 2009
recently...words
recently there hasnt been a lot of anything pulling me in any one direction more than the other.
but speaking to anyone has left me feeling empty and without feedback, without a satiating bite into day to day speech. and to think inwardly isnt nearly as satisfying asthinking outwardly, even if the only audience is myself and the television that sits along the wall and below the window perched above its massive display. listening to every conversation on all the channels has revealed that there is very little coverage of anyone, or persons, who speak with a more of a vernacular that has the sound of not only age but that of a mutlitude of words. as if the only people who are being targeted in the media and the branches thereof, is, mindless shut-ins who cannot tollerate confrontational conversations.
and to pursue a more versed audience, i am going to begin a game. albeit in my mind, or rather, a silent endeavor at seeking out a wider range of listeners, im going to begin speaking in double alliterated phrases, sentences, prose, and speak. i dont think there can be more of a game to see if im either more wide awake than i really am or whether people are really as awake as i think they may be. silly effort? perhaps however the days may pass sooner than most with something to think of rather than deadening the activity winding and driving my brain.
with this effort i think, i may find consuming written printed materials as fuel.
language. ive been thinking about language for a very long time without anyone being able to offer me their opinion. and right now i dont know the words to describe what i want to say. and not reading anything full of language has left my brain drained. there arent any words that i can use while writing to shape an image, an idea of what it is i am going to begin. all i know is that speaking to most people i find no substance.
who am i to think of them as less than they are, but its like something you can feel, like you look at them and think, is that how you choose to speak or is that how to choose to speak to me? i can understand a lack of substance if a man or woman chooses to speak to me in that manner, then again being extremely egocentric i find myself often wanting to place myself in that position. the position of self-abasement. but simply not knowing another way to "clean it up" in a sense, kinda lets me down.
the last man who impressed me was, as i have described, a little too perfect. even those days we would meet to simply be together, he would know exactly what i was thinking and would behave according to those ideas that were being thought of, in as little as a few hours preceding our encounter. example, i was in a deep state of lucid thought. thinking, that words, phrases, mantras, even simple collections of power thoughts being written for use, must be able to be both said/read both backwards/forwards. not only in simple sentences but in entire conversations as well. and later that evening, we walked and spoke in this manner, with him being more impressive because it was done so simply that i had found myself speechless in candor and presence. i had been asking only a few about a palindrome i had come across during a significant month in my life, that i had wanted tattooed on my arms. beginning on one and ending on the other. i havent though of that combination of words until just now. odd as it seems, i also had thought to myself that i might begin creating more inspirational ideas that might be placed upon my skin.
and now thinking that i havent had a friend with whom to have done this when younger is disheartening, though i am fickle about with whom i share ideas. you know the way the young sometimes will make a secret language that only they share.
maybe i really dont like being brainless.
but speaking to anyone has left me feeling empty and without feedback, without a satiating bite into day to day speech. and to think inwardly isnt nearly as satisfying asthinking outwardly, even if the only audience is myself and the television that sits along the wall and below the window perched above its massive display. listening to every conversation on all the channels has revealed that there is very little coverage of anyone, or persons, who speak with a more of a vernacular that has the sound of not only age but that of a mutlitude of words. as if the only people who are being targeted in the media and the branches thereof, is, mindless shut-ins who cannot tollerate confrontational conversations.
and to pursue a more versed audience, i am going to begin a game. albeit in my mind, or rather, a silent endeavor at seeking out a wider range of listeners, im going to begin speaking in double alliterated phrases, sentences, prose, and speak. i dont think there can be more of a game to see if im either more wide awake than i really am or whether people are really as awake as i think they may be. silly effort? perhaps however the days may pass sooner than most with something to think of rather than deadening the activity winding and driving my brain.
with this effort i think, i may find consuming written printed materials as fuel.
language. ive been thinking about language for a very long time without anyone being able to offer me their opinion. and right now i dont know the words to describe what i want to say. and not reading anything full of language has left my brain drained. there arent any words that i can use while writing to shape an image, an idea of what it is i am going to begin. all i know is that speaking to most people i find no substance.
who am i to think of them as less than they are, but its like something you can feel, like you look at them and think, is that how you choose to speak or is that how to choose to speak to me? i can understand a lack of substance if a man or woman chooses to speak to me in that manner, then again being extremely egocentric i find myself often wanting to place myself in that position. the position of self-abasement. but simply not knowing another way to "clean it up" in a sense, kinda lets me down.
the last man who impressed me was, as i have described, a little too perfect. even those days we would meet to simply be together, he would know exactly what i was thinking and would behave according to those ideas that were being thought of, in as little as a few hours preceding our encounter. example, i was in a deep state of lucid thought. thinking, that words, phrases, mantras, even simple collections of power thoughts being written for use, must be able to be both said/read both backwards/forwards. not only in simple sentences but in entire conversations as well. and later that evening, we walked and spoke in this manner, with him being more impressive because it was done so simply that i had found myself speechless in candor and presence. i had been asking only a few about a palindrome i had come across during a significant month in my life, that i had wanted tattooed on my arms. beginning on one and ending on the other. i havent though of that combination of words until just now. odd as it seems, i also had thought to myself that i might begin creating more inspirational ideas that might be placed upon my skin.
and now thinking that i havent had a friend with whom to have done this when younger is disheartening, though i am fickle about with whom i share ideas. you know the way the young sometimes will make a secret language that only they share.
maybe i really dont like being brainless.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
imitation of life
there isnt a single digital camera in this house for miles.
there isnt any simple capture of life for anyone.
when the colors change from dark to light to red to gold to dark to blue there isnt any shutter that can hold life still.
what complications there are between the machinery and myself cant be explained as anything more than simple debauchery
party party party.
vodka vodka vodka.
having nothing required of a person feels absolutely distasteful. having nothing pulling you out of bed or into sleep has such an effect on the persona that my own is craving human attention. not just any human attention but that of any other man in the area. i find it actually comical that i want this for myself and that the woman across the street has recently had her marriage end and her husband leave their home within the last 14 days. this business has none of my concern and i dont bother to ask if she would like some consolidation or any empathy for what she must be feeling, yet its result is comical. perhaps the overload of female influence in my life in the past year has left me feeling emasculated and feminised beyond knowing that i have a preference calling me elsewhere.
this is one more reason that i am on the beginning of several new projects.
body. mind. spirit. i agree that all have needs that must be met for anything to happen. now if there is any way that i can meet those needs with what i have to work with now?
is there any vodka at your place?
there isnt any simple capture of life for anyone.
when the colors change from dark to light to red to gold to dark to blue there isnt any shutter that can hold life still.
what complications there are between the machinery and myself cant be explained as anything more than simple debauchery
party party party.
vodka vodka vodka.
having nothing required of a person feels absolutely distasteful. having nothing pulling you out of bed or into sleep has such an effect on the persona that my own is craving human attention. not just any human attention but that of any other man in the area. i find it actually comical that i want this for myself and that the woman across the street has recently had her marriage end and her husband leave their home within the last 14 days. this business has none of my concern and i dont bother to ask if she would like some consolidation or any empathy for what she must be feeling, yet its result is comical. perhaps the overload of female influence in my life in the past year has left me feeling emasculated and feminised beyond knowing that i have a preference calling me elsewhere.
this is one more reason that i am on the beginning of several new projects.
body. mind. spirit. i agree that all have needs that must be met for anything to happen. now if there is any way that i can meet those needs with what i have to work with now?
is there any vodka at your place?
Friday, June 26, 2009
self-actualisation
when i look at myself...
words and sounds float into the surroundings.
nothing can define self actualisation like the thoughts that are poured into the air from a mouth and heart captured and objectified, speaking through disturbances thwarting sentiment passed along by others who've felt a desire for life.
a decision transcending thought and space. emotion misconstrued as emotion. desire and transmorgification. environs and reaction. reaction and objectification. expression.
when i touch myself...
softness of a heartbeat lulled to a rest creates a moment of life which has grown beyond an instance of death. pulses. a strength as demure as breath.
when i taste myself...
a silence shattered throughout negligence of instinct presses against ripe pores feeding the passion in my blood and body. glands and glans. hands and man.
words and sounds float into the surroundings.
nothing can define self actualisation like the thoughts that are poured into the air from a mouth and heart captured and objectified, speaking through disturbances thwarting sentiment passed along by others who've felt a desire for life.
a decision transcending thought and space. emotion misconstrued as emotion. desire and transmorgification. environs and reaction. reaction and objectification. expression.
when i touch myself...
softness of a heartbeat lulled to a rest creates a moment of life which has grown beyond an instance of death. pulses. a strength as demure as breath.
when i taste myself...
a silence shattered throughout negligence of instinct presses against ripe pores feeding the passion in my blood and body. glands and glans. hands and man.
Monday, June 8, 2009
so i may be drunk right now
...
i still however think that my behaviour is still in a way influenced by those around me.
example:
"i want to go to the bar but im an older woman without my youth and beauty."
and i know that i am not a young woman with those qualities and i know i am quite the opposite but i know i that i sometimes feel that i am influenced by such a character as that...a character who i young and beautiful who is attracted to those she is. I mean, I can hear it in my head as if she want to whisper is to me in some kind of trance to emphasize that fact that i will land that.
for now:
its ruining my ability to say hello.
hello to a perfect stranger without the judgement of, "you look hot!"
so i have to say FUCK YOU mom!
you dont even get a capital m.
u are a loser!
dont do this anymore.
i have to leave.
so my new place to live is in some place called the oxford house.
im doubting whether or not the place will vote me in on wednesday. but its up to everyone who lives there. i would say yes. unless they are real judgemental men who only like what they have done all theyre life...and with that i sound judgemental.
im hoping they take me.
right now i may have shaven my head, and will even more in the AM. but i also didnt strike it up with anyone at the bars tonight. well i said hello. but there wasnt anything.
and i want more beer or liquor.
all i can ask right now is that someone will PLEASE pay for my stay at the oxford house. plus the men there are real large, and like large men, look dominant. but not in a fat kinda way.
thats all.
oh yeah, i need new shit.
including a new hang out. and a new bar.
i pissed off some lesbo for asking her to explain her tits to me. i left in about 1min after she heard that tits are everywhere.
lesbos. they think so much.
oh damn!
and i blew off of scott in a kilt. mohawk and all.
now im ready to go meet them and ask for more time together.
but, however, to eaze the night, i took a tranquilizer and i wont be up for a long time.
perhaps tuesdays will bring more.
shit i need something.
sup g?
i still however think that my behaviour is still in a way influenced by those around me.
example:
"i want to go to the bar but im an older woman without my youth and beauty."
and i know that i am not a young woman with those qualities and i know i am quite the opposite but i know i that i sometimes feel that i am influenced by such a character as that...a character who i young and beautiful who is attracted to those she is. I mean, I can hear it in my head as if she want to whisper is to me in some kind of trance to emphasize that fact that i will land that.
for now:
its ruining my ability to say hello.
hello to a perfect stranger without the judgement of, "you look hot!"
so i have to say FUCK YOU mom!
you dont even get a capital m.
u are a loser!
dont do this anymore.
i have to leave.
so my new place to live is in some place called the oxford house.
im doubting whether or not the place will vote me in on wednesday. but its up to everyone who lives there. i would say yes. unless they are real judgemental men who only like what they have done all theyre life...and with that i sound judgemental.
im hoping they take me.
right now i may have shaven my head, and will even more in the AM. but i also didnt strike it up with anyone at the bars tonight. well i said hello. but there wasnt anything.
and i want more beer or liquor.
all i can ask right now is that someone will PLEASE pay for my stay at the oxford house. plus the men there are real large, and like large men, look dominant. but not in a fat kinda way.
thats all.
oh yeah, i need new shit.
including a new hang out. and a new bar.
i pissed off some lesbo for asking her to explain her tits to me. i left in about 1min after she heard that tits are everywhere.
lesbos. they think so much.
oh damn!
and i blew off of scott in a kilt. mohawk and all.
now im ready to go meet them and ask for more time together.
but, however, to eaze the night, i took a tranquilizer and i wont be up for a long time.
perhaps tuesdays will bring more.
shit i need something.
sup g?
Monday, May 11, 2009
pop tart prick
smack tart prick
a piquant face
a piquant face
interesting charm
pungent clever taste
biting sharp railleries
backchat persiflage
Friday, April 24, 2009
just in
finally there has been switch in circumstances.
i began to dedicate a large portion of my time to ignoring the musts and doing what i can for mere the amusement of passing time.
beginning with news and a confrontation of significant events. like economy politics art secrecy lies discipline gratification literature identity.
actually recoginising who i am and telling the general population of interested parties.
inward emotion and thoughts are not interesting enough to listen to the conversation between myself and I. sometimes i know that there is a huge difference between the two of them. one is aggressive and the other is less informed.
i began to dedicate a large portion of my time to ignoring the musts and doing what i can for mere the amusement of passing time.
beginning with news and a confrontation of significant events. like economy politics art secrecy lies discipline gratification literature identity.
actually recoginising who i am and telling the general population of interested parties.
inward emotion and thoughts are not interesting enough to listen to the conversation between myself and I. sometimes i know that there is a huge difference between the two of them. one is aggressive and the other is less informed.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
sticks.
and as far as pseudonyms go, im now dAve mUster. it sticks.
its the only thing that seems to stick in my mind. nothing else really is on my mind.
tekno is.
need more money.
the innerpartysound or innerpartysystem sounds like it will make it, but not as far as ladyhawk. they are on display at stinkweeds.
i didnt watch the superBowl.
but dylan had a birthday. now 15. 9th grade. skater. he gets something from holly and a letter from me. i dunno if he'll right back.
im writing a few other people, but they need some smut porn and i dont have a paycheck to send them any. cum and balls. i think thats what qualifies for smut porn. both are equally disturbing and offensive. cum and balls. have you seen those buckets of butterballs. i wanted to pick each one up and rub them on my lips. they have texture. rib-like texture.
i like the new minimal and schranz. uh tekno that is. there is some minimal outta south america that sounds wicked. like where are the bugs that made that?
so there this is new/old show on the sci-fi channel. called sanctuary. it rocks. the vampires are kinda mindless zombies and the fireholders and kinda killer. i dont remember much about the other races but they all work together i think if i can think betwixt me fingers. betwixt.
yeah i like minimal. there has to be a bug behind there somewhere, like a huge locust. tick tick tick tick tick tick.
its the only thing that seems to stick in my mind. nothing else really is on my mind.
tekno is.
need more money.
the innerpartysound or innerpartysystem sounds like it will make it, but not as far as ladyhawk. they are on display at stinkweeds.
i didnt watch the superBowl.
but dylan had a birthday. now 15. 9th grade. skater. he gets something from holly and a letter from me. i dunno if he'll right back.
im writing a few other people, but they need some smut porn and i dont have a paycheck to send them any. cum and balls. i think thats what qualifies for smut porn. both are equally disturbing and offensive. cum and balls. have you seen those buckets of butterballs. i wanted to pick each one up and rub them on my lips. they have texture. rib-like texture.
i like the new minimal and schranz. uh tekno that is. there is some minimal outta south america that sounds wicked. like where are the bugs that made that?
so there this is new/old show on the sci-fi channel. called sanctuary. it rocks. the vampires are kinda mindless zombies and the fireholders and kinda killer. i dont remember much about the other races but they all work together i think if i can think betwixt me fingers. betwixt.
yeah i like minimal. there has to be a bug behind there somewhere, like a huge locust. tick tick tick tick tick tick.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
the only thing gettin' cheap is me it seems
this life is harder than it seems when worth is thrown into the mix.
my netWorth i like to believe is worth muiltiple millions. but the dollar store up the street next the fresh&easy seems to scream louder when the food card is outta stamps.
last nite i couldnt buy a bear claw for a new friend, mr haloperidal-popper, when the orange creamed horizon smeared into navy blue. but the pornographic armoire was feed enough for the two of us, albeit he chose the classic porno mags and i chose unzipped, however neither of us wanted anything more at the time.
SNL was entertaining once again, steve martin seems to improve his comed as i get older with maturity. the skit of shop girl was the best, "thomas! thomas!...ok thomas!" the new girl makes me laugh. i think its all of her. but last nite, last nite, i felt an unusual connetion towards her when the skit was over unless that was directed towards steve martin. the pompous jerk. it has to be his silver hair. distinguished-ism.
taxes are not finished, "aint that right therr melissa!" if her class is done perhaps i can offer her a reward of dos pilas for tax perparation. i dunno, the cunt, ok well shes not a cunt, but she is kinda awkward-ing. as in i feel awkward when she is near me sometimes. in the im your friend kinda way, of course.
the internet rocks. so does jasen. i got to see him again. he looked not so abfabulous. but if i were in bed tout le jour i would have bed head too as well as my clothes half off mes corps. so hes still hotandsexyandgorgeous everytime i look at him. plus now, i get to save 10% off the total sale the next time old navy has a sale. $70 isnt enough.
my netWorth i like to believe is worth muiltiple millions. but the dollar store up the street next the fresh&easy seems to scream louder when the food card is outta stamps.
last nite i couldnt buy a bear claw for a new friend, mr haloperidal-popper, when the orange creamed horizon smeared into navy blue. but the pornographic armoire was feed enough for the two of us, albeit he chose the classic porno mags and i chose unzipped, however neither of us wanted anything more at the time.
SNL was entertaining once again, steve martin seems to improve his comed as i get older with maturity. the skit of shop girl was the best, "thomas! thomas!...ok thomas!" the new girl makes me laugh. i think its all of her. but last nite, last nite, i felt an unusual connetion towards her when the skit was over unless that was directed towards steve martin. the pompous jerk. it has to be his silver hair. distinguished-ism.
taxes are not finished, "aint that right therr melissa!" if her class is done perhaps i can offer her a reward of dos pilas for tax perparation. i dunno, the cunt, ok well shes not a cunt, but she is kinda awkward-ing. as in i feel awkward when she is near me sometimes. in the im your friend kinda way, of course.
the internet rocks. so does jasen. i got to see him again. he looked not so abfabulous. but if i were in bed tout le jour i would have bed head too as well as my clothes half off mes corps. so hes still hotandsexyandgorgeous everytime i look at him. plus now, i get to save 10% off the total sale the next time old navy has a sale. $70 isnt enough.
Monday, January 26, 2009
suicial tendencies
in the last 35 days...
i have seen the heavens part and the eyes of a man/animal watch me walk at nite. i dont know which is more compelling. the daytime images of what i call PLUR or the nitetime neutrality of a feral cat at night walking home.
but i know that i miss those who've played their part.
i also must have overdosed at least four times during those days. i mean mums the word.
however, last week was another eye opener. the fact that i am again experiencing something and life changing has led me to a new run/change of direction. i think. but the hidden house is where i expect to come to terms with myself once again, after a small meal with the roomate.
story time:
as a lad in school. i was priviledged enough to be given advice from what nollisa had said were faeries? either way, i think the whole lot of us were in that same bunch of freaks geeks and romantics. one not much more included/excluded than the other. so we would sit/eat amongst each other daily. not saying much. until someone would say something rather vulgar like "cowpussy." whilst spreading our daily amount of cream cheese on a sharpied vagina along the pavement. laughing we'd all start speaking casually about life. like nollisa would be plagued by these terrors by nite or day, and we'd look at her and not know what to say. miss her, though, and need to speak to her at this point in my life. i'll post a picture of her from back in bk. hippie punk. no bras, hemp necklaces, parents said no meds. yeah, she turned me on. but maybe that was why we stuck together. so this has to do with the faeries and punks and what not...
well, there was a park called the hidden park that we would visit now and again, and ima vanilla, would talk about how she had the most fun there with yllek? i dunno, i dont remember. but they would all kinda yell and scream and sing and try hard for me to as well, but i said i dont scream or yell, and ill sing. either way, fun at the hidden park. one blue monday i ran into her at the hidden house. like, vanilla!?! WTH? and we hugged, she said, in her voice like, "who's your friends?" and i looked at her in the look like, "who's yours?" so we ignored boht of our entourage and had drink. said i'll give you my number before i leave, and the but not before i give you mine.
havent seen her since.
i have to leave to find some shade now. and a job. and some money.
but i have new pen. and glowindark bic that looks like a glowstick. makes me happy. i rite down things like, CALL BACK on my forearm. should be CALL THE DOCTOR.
READ:
FOUND by DAVY ROTHBART on FIRESIDE
i have seen the heavens part and the eyes of a man/animal watch me walk at nite. i dont know which is more compelling. the daytime images of what i call PLUR or the nitetime neutrality of a feral cat at night walking home.
but i know that i miss those who've played their part.
i also must have overdosed at least four times during those days. i mean mums the word.
however, last week was another eye opener. the fact that i am again experiencing something and life changing has led me to a new run/change of direction. i think. but the hidden house is where i expect to come to terms with myself once again, after a small meal with the roomate.
story time:
as a lad in school. i was priviledged enough to be given advice from what nollisa had said were faeries? either way, i think the whole lot of us were in that same bunch of freaks geeks and romantics. one not much more included/excluded than the other. so we would sit/eat amongst each other daily. not saying much. until someone would say something rather vulgar like "cowpussy." whilst spreading our daily amount of cream cheese on a sharpied vagina along the pavement. laughing we'd all start speaking casually about life. like nollisa would be plagued by these terrors by nite or day, and we'd look at her and not know what to say. miss her, though, and need to speak to her at this point in my life. i'll post a picture of her from back in bk. hippie punk. no bras, hemp necklaces, parents said no meds. yeah, she turned me on. but maybe that was why we stuck together. so this has to do with the faeries and punks and what not...
well, there was a park called the hidden park that we would visit now and again, and ima vanilla, would talk about how she had the most fun there with yllek? i dunno, i dont remember. but they would all kinda yell and scream and sing and try hard for me to as well, but i said i dont scream or yell, and ill sing. either way, fun at the hidden park. one blue monday i ran into her at the hidden house. like, vanilla!?! WTH? and we hugged, she said, in her voice like, "who's your friends?" and i looked at her in the look like, "who's yours?" so we ignored boht of our entourage and had drink. said i'll give you my number before i leave, and the but not before i give you mine.
havent seen her since.
i have to leave to find some shade now. and a job. and some money.
but i have new pen. and glowindark bic that looks like a glowstick. makes me happy. i rite down things like, CALL BACK on my forearm. should be CALL THE DOCTOR.
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FOUND by DAVY ROTHBART on FIRESIDE
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