(no subject)
ok world... so if you listen to one of the hundreds of cds of my music that i hand out to people on a regular basis, or if you come to one of my shows in time to catch the intro, like a lot of folks who hear it, you will have this chant running through your mind: "i wanna watch the world burn down, i wanna watch the world burn down" some people who smoke a lot of pot and dig the chill shit i make as a soundtrack for smoking may also dig on the chant, but it may not be heard the same way. i wanna watch the world burn down. fuck. i am losing my mind. i have been gone from my long beloved journal for quite some time. this is not a bad thing. not a lot of good has happened since i have been gone anyway. it just would've been piles upon piles of whining just llike before anyway. i am drunk again as i am typing this. i am at my mom's house, house sitting, cat sitting while she is at my brother's place in texas at the moment. fucking dial up computer... fucking gateway machine from '99 running windows ME.... there's a good chance that i won't even manage to post this, since all the bugs in the fucking os immediately kill the computer when i go to some websites. livejournal is one of them that this machine has refused to let me go to in the past, so i am typing in a notepad file, with the intentions of pasting it into my journal, assuming it lets me sneak past the bugs when i am finally done typing.
random shit.
i put a cd/digital album out last year.
i have been celibate since the sexual encounter that was last documented in my journal.
i have raised something like $960,000 for the public tv, radio stations and museums i work for.... and have yet to even be offered a promotion, despite my dedication to my job and the cause, in spite of the fact that i am pretty much owned my some of the most foul incarnations of the most wretched, soulless demons coughed forth from the deepest, darkest corners of hell.
i haven't burned the fucking building down.
yet....
that's not a threat. i am not being serious. but Phone Bank Systems, located at 4990 northwind drive, suite 235 in East Lansing, Michigan can eat my summer, sweaty, unshowered asshole. fucking nazis. the lying, manipulative cunts that run that place have reserved themselves some nice little bungalos made of dead babies' bodies on the shores of the nicest, most sought after lake of sulphur and fire for an eternity. soulless demons, i tell you.
i am being serious. i honestly do believe that there are certain people who are in fact demons in the form of humans, (albeit, very unattractive, half wit, knuckle dragging, mouth breathing women in this case) and the owners/management of this fucking place are exactly that.
art... oh man. art is an asshole. i never have either the time, money, or ability to properly execute what it is i am trying to do. i am doing some things with art again. maybe i'll die soon so people can appreciate it.
music... oh man, what an asshole music is. it costs me money, gives a little bit back to my compromised soul, but i am at a culdesac.
if you slit your fucking wrists...do not fucking call me into the room so i can see it and then fucking save you. you are forever an asshole if you do something like this. to subject someone to such a thing is one of the sickest fucking things a person can do.
i am not a dj, so please don't make requests when i am playing a show. please do not engage in long conversation with me while i am playing. you see all those buttons and knobs on all those boxes with blinky lights? i need to have my concentration and finger tips on those, not you.
fuck... windows me just let me into livejournal! i have to post this while i still can!
i will return within days.
i mean it this time.
random shit.
i put a cd/digital album out last year.
i have been celibate since the sexual encounter that was last documented in my journal.
i have raised something like $960,000 for the public tv, radio stations and museums i work for.... and have yet to even be offered a promotion, despite my dedication to my job and the cause, in spite of the fact that i am pretty much owned my some of the most foul incarnations of the most wretched, soulless demons coughed forth from the deepest, darkest corners of hell.
i haven't burned the fucking building down.
yet....
that's not a threat. i am not being serious. but Phone Bank Systems, located at 4990 northwind drive, suite 235 in East Lansing, Michigan can eat my summer, sweaty, unshowered asshole. fucking nazis. the lying, manipulative cunts that run that place have reserved themselves some nice little bungalos made of dead babies' bodies on the shores of the nicest, most sought after lake of sulphur and fire for an eternity. soulless demons, i tell you.
i am being serious. i honestly do believe that there are certain people who are in fact demons in the form of humans, (albeit, very unattractive, half wit, knuckle dragging, mouth breathing women in this case) and the owners/management of this fucking place are exactly that.
art... oh man. art is an asshole. i never have either the time, money, or ability to properly execute what it is i am trying to do. i am doing some things with art again. maybe i'll die soon so people can appreciate it.
music... oh man, what an asshole music is. it costs me money, gives a little bit back to my compromised soul, but i am at a culdesac.
if you slit your fucking wrists...do not fucking call me into the room so i can see it and then fucking save you. you are forever an asshole if you do something like this. to subject someone to such a thing is one of the sickest fucking things a person can do.
i am not a dj, so please don't make requests when i am playing a show. please do not engage in long conversation with me while i am playing. you see all those buttons and knobs on all those boxes with blinky lights? i need to have my concentration and finger tips on those, not you.
fuck... windows me just let me into livejournal! i have to post this while i still can!
i will return within days.
i mean it this time.