aftershocks.
day after st. patricks day. so did i wake up with my liver sitting next to me smoking a cigarette and drinking coffee? no. got drunk last night but not too drunk. didnt go out either, herd of parties that didnt sound interesting so stayed in and played a new version of axis and allies that i bought yesterday.
i was gonna go to philly tuesday to see g-love. the week before that i was gonna go to dc to go to some musemussssms and shyttt, also take care of all that embassy shit for ze move to french ca-nadia. well for two weeks in a row two different kevins ruined tha shit. kevin willett is just a dick head and said i couldnt stay at his house in towson (close enough to dc blah blah) so fuck dc. goin there at the end of the month instead. tuesday kevin my old roomate forgot to fucking buy tickets to g-love...G-LOVE IN PHILLY AND HE FORGOT THE TICKETS! what a jack-ass. oh well me and itamar are still down with babylon this week. fuckin new york. i aint been dere in years.
so werk is work like a horse is a horse. of course, of course!
ive been writing short stories with really no characters and them throwing them away vonnegut/trout style. i wrote one about an entire war taking place inside of a football stadium. i wrote one about a lost hat and the events that unfold in the room that hat is lost in in relation to the hat until it is found. that one was interesting because it was from the hats perspective and i had to keep the hat devoid of character because hats dont really think. im doing one now about a 43 year old, divorced, insurance salesman who can move things with his mind. but the thing is that he only uses his power to pull pranks on unsuspecting bystanders. for instance, your sitting on a park bench really contemplating something, probably your love life (as is the industry standard with contemplation on a park bench), and he'll make your bench with you on it float for a second just so you'd shit your pants. im also gonna make the guy do shitty things like take buckets into 7-11s and tell the clerks his son has cancer and asks if he can leave the jar to collect change at the counter. of course he has no son. just wants the money. he'll never figure to use his telepathy to rob a bank or something cause hes a looser.
life is a reaction or extention to the moment passed. music is reaction to the reaction so react accordingly.
a "life is"ism from a 20 year old. hahahahaha. its like listening to that hillary duff song. who the fuck knows anything? f-dat i know. im a super genius like dick clark or tommy tutone. who wants to eat some crow?
i was gonna go to philly tuesday to see g-love. the week before that i was gonna go to dc to go to some musemussssms and shyttt, also take care of all that embassy shit for ze move to french ca-nadia. well for two weeks in a row two different kevins ruined tha shit. kevin willett is just a dick head and said i couldnt stay at his house in towson (close enough to dc blah blah) so fuck dc. goin there at the end of the month instead. tuesday kevin my old roomate forgot to fucking buy tickets to g-love...G-LOVE IN PHILLY AND HE FORGOT THE TICKETS! what a jack-ass. oh well me and itamar are still down with babylon this week. fuckin new york. i aint been dere in years.
so werk is work like a horse is a horse. of course, of course!
ive been writing short stories with really no characters and them throwing them away vonnegut/trout style. i wrote one about an entire war taking place inside of a football stadium. i wrote one about a lost hat and the events that unfold in the room that hat is lost in in relation to the hat until it is found. that one was interesting because it was from the hats perspective and i had to keep the hat devoid of character because hats dont really think. im doing one now about a 43 year old, divorced, insurance salesman who can move things with his mind. but the thing is that he only uses his power to pull pranks on unsuspecting bystanders. for instance, your sitting on a park bench really contemplating something, probably your love life (as is the industry standard with contemplation on a park bench), and he'll make your bench with you on it float for a second just so you'd shit your pants. im also gonna make the guy do shitty things like take buckets into 7-11s and tell the clerks his son has cancer and asks if he can leave the jar to collect change at the counter. of course he has no son. just wants the money. he'll never figure to use his telepathy to rob a bank or something cause hes a looser.
life is a reaction or extention to the moment passed. music is reaction to the reaction so react accordingly.
a "life is"ism from a 20 year old. hahahahaha. its like listening to that hillary duff song. who the fuck knows anything? f-dat i know. im a super genius like dick clark or tommy tutone. who wants to eat some crow?