Free guns at the pizza church
Maybe it's the weather or the heated political affairs or the random blathering of strangers walking by or our fingers finally intertwining or the general and genuine feeling of apocalypse that makes everything smell as if some universal insurrection against man's government of Earth is impending.
At first I tried to figure it until the other day when I woke up after dreaming of the day that I was to enter -upon- waking up and saw my dream companion quiet on the pillow next to my head.
And then I turned my head and saw my best friend, docile in the smothering heat of the shitty camp tent that we were sleeping in.
I was dying in there and I took my inhaler in order to even be able to slightly breathe.
I turned back over and watched Alan sleep, brushing the hair sticking slightly to the sweat on his forehead aside and placing the back of my hand on it to check for a fever.
I was worried because he'd been sick the night before and I'd held his head up from the dirt before allowing him to be sick and then figuring out how to get him to fall asleep peacefully.
Now it was the morning after and I'd wanted to make sure that it was nothing more than a disagreement of camp food and booze.
When I did this, his lips fell open only slightly and his breathing sounded like soft waves.
And I suppose that's when I realized that there is no way that I am going to figure out anything about the apocalypse anytime soon.
Because I can't even get myself to leave Alan and Christie's side to escape the choking heat of a shitty tent.
Living too much to think about dying?
Realization that for the first time in my life I don't get -my- life, let alone future galactic existence?
(which is odd because usually one starts out not knowing and then eventually understands one's own life at around my age, not the other way around)
I'm not even slightly sure.....
Which... I suppose is really okay because being 'not even slightly sure' about anything is my new default paradigm as of late.
I mean, usually when I say that I'm not sure about something, I am usually just holding back the answer because I am under-estimating myself or thinking that maybe my opinions on the matter will be null or extraneous, but this time, I think the answer is either something too epic for me to even begin to explain right now or else it's something that I truly can't or won't allow myself to understand.
--
The best cure against impending doom this past week has been making fires.
(and drinking beers. All activities to be done were pretty much announced to be completed, "after this beer."
Example:
A)Yo, kid, are you going to put some more logs on the fire?
B) Yeah man. I'm going to do that after this beer. And then I am going to move into default activity mode and grab another beer.)
Every afternoon at Lake George, I would set-up a fire to be lit as the daylight disappeared.
Then, every night, we drank by it, watching it crackle and flame, calling it out on loving to be bitched around, and stabbing it with sticks and fire gloves and a big plastic m-16.
(M-16 picturedin lower right, two boys in the background are "the jeffs", the foreground boy is ashley's boyfriend's friend named danny, and that hand is Alan's.)
On the last night we cooked chicken fried rice on the fire, burned the m-16, and talked about what the dying embered logs looked like to us.
This one looked like a man with a sombrero on to Alan and if you can't see him then you're a computer virus.
(seesee? the front log be his hat, yo)
Aside from the heathen attraction to burning every motherfucking object within reach, the best part about making fires was our created log-setting technique terms.
1) One vertical log amidst horizontals is a "jesus log."
2) Two jesus logs side by side amidst horizontals is a "twin tower."
3) One fatty log set on top of a mess of broken down ember-ridden logs is called a "yule log" and will be referred to as "Moby dick" if it bears resemblance to a whale.
4) If you are going to use an object to shove fire abandoning the pit back where it belongs, you are "batterying that shit." The term batterying is not exclusively for fire use, however batterying -does- tend to come in handy with fires.....
(and with getting gross melted airheads off of picnic tables.... which was where the term was spawned as I used a double A battery to get the job done)
5) Everything must go.... except batteries and propane tanks.
6) Get your wood from the wood truck, not the wood/ice truck.
--
More advice for campers
(especially Lake George motherfuckers)
!) Neverlook (at the obviously fabricated human beings) that pass by your campsite and watch out for completely random and just as obviously fabricated noises that they make from afar.
(example: you are sitting by the fire, drinking a beer. You hear silence in the campsite next to you followed by an unprovoked and creepily seemed staged set of canned sounding laughter from a group of people sitting by -their- fire, only to have the silence immediately return without further conversation. like. what. the fuck.)
@) Acknowledge the white lighter revolution.
#) Don't trust babies on jugs of water.
$) Boy-cott aliens in mini-vans.
%) Always zipper the tent.
^) The only acceptable form of a shower are the lathering up of a few wafers of thinly sliced soap while swimming in the lake.
&) One pair of jeans.
*) Beware any vehicle emitting a faint beeping sound while moving forward.
!!) Befriend any duos named "jeff" (specifically jeffro and jeffrican)
@@) Filter88
##) Mosquito coils spray lanterns candles.
$$) Use the flfphone. It's the only one that works.
%%) Use a flashlight when it gets dark outside.
^^) Three boxes of salt water taffy for five bucks is a miracle. Jump on it.
--
I know what you're thinking... "Wait, Gianna, before you mentioned how Ashley's boyfriend's friend was in some picture...... Ashley's boyfriend's friend... Ashley's.......
Wait! Ashley has a new boyfriend???"
Yeah, totally. His name's Chris.
Once I picked her up from his house late at night and there were two boys on his lawn:
One playing guitar and one passed out cold with his face in the grass and his body outstretched.
"Which one is your boyfriend, Ashley, is he the one that's dead?"
And she said yes and thought it was so funny how his friend just sat there picking away and watching over the motionless figure as if he were on some faraway park ledge.
--
So. I was called 'a piece of shit' by an employee of an establishment AGAIN.
This time I was buying cigarettes at a gas station in upstate new york with alan and ryder.
I'd given the chick 23 dollars (it was 13.90) and told her that I had exact change.
When I looked up from counting out the 90 cents, I went to hand it to the man standing next to the chick (they looked like a pakistani couple) my change and realized that he only had his outstretched to hand me a dime.
The chick then handed me a bunch of bills.
I was completely confused as to why they weren't taking my change and giving me a ten dollar bill, but I just took the dime from the man and the bills from the chick and opened my change purse and put BACK all of the change I'd counted out while muttering, NEARLY INAUDIBLY, "wow, I guess I counted that change for nothing, huh."
I looked up at the man.
He was standing there holding my id and when I went to grab it and leave, he pulled his hand away and asked me "what my problem is."
Absolutely astounded that a clerk was attempting to withold my id from me in order to force me into confrontation with me, I said, "Excuse me sir, are you kidding me, give me my id please."
He handed my id to me and I started to walk towards the door in order to leave when he shouted at me, "Piece of SHIT."
I had my hand on the door handle and was starting to push, but the moment I heard it, I whirled around.
Christie was three people back in line.
"wowwwwww," she said.
A hefty bald man widened his eyes and tried to hold back his laughter.
"There is ABSOLUTELY no reason for you to be calling a customer a piece of shit" was all I said before walking out the door.
I hadn't wanted Ryder to be given a hard time.
They gave her a hard time anyway.
But yeah, what the hell, man?
What is it with assholes always calling ME a piece of shit???
And it's always the most ridiculous weird misunderstanding somehow because I am pretty much never actively TRYING to be a piece of shit.
--
This is Tony doing an impression.
This is Doof not doing an impression.
This is Christie. That's all.
--
I am absolutely over-ridden with wounds from chopping wood, stubbing feet, and random absolutely mystifying events which caused me to bruise and bleed in my sleep.
psycho-somaticcccccccccccccccc, maybe?
joint dreaming results, maybe maybe??
--
Blah blah blah bats in my belly and caterpillars all over my body
when I'm only half dead noticing you are so
close to me that you look like
a new painting.
and that never goes away.
--
I went through camping withdrawals last night.
got stoned and then went to my friend's house to quench the un-forgivable sweating desire to just drink a god damned beer.
And I drank six to my associates averaged three because once it got close to when we needed to be leaving, I said that I would be ready to leave "after this beer" and after that beer I went to pee and then I went outside and picked up the full beer on the deck with the hole punched in it from being dropped and shot-gunned it.
--
Part 4: Haunted benefactor
You muller fokker!
(That's the joke, right?)
(Book read is The Muller-Fokker effect by john sladek)
--
You know... I think the Jeffs are right.
We -are- fucking savages.
--
If you were wondering, that title is something that we got these weird kids advertising some free show via out-the-truck-window-screaming to yell while we were in Lake george village..
It was so catchy.
People on the sidewalk were all buzzing about it... and shit.
Also, Christie went into a store once to look for a present for her boy while Alan and I sat on the sidewalk and ate taffy.
(THREE FOR FIVE!)
A bunch of lame-ass kids stood near us talking and I spent the next five minutes throwing wolf pack snap things at their feet while neverlooking at their faces.
And one kid said something about ' oh damn, your feet are under siege."
I just kept throwing them and throwing them.
and I never had to talk to them because I neverlooked.
yeah man, free guns at the pizza chuch.
--
Decoy reunion show tomorrow, the bros are going to slay the crowd.
I hope I can slay some people too.
but you know, with a sweet axe, not sweet licks.
--
Today Humphrey got new air conditioning and the other day he got a tune-up and I think that SOON he is going to be painted!
Otherwise, my dad told me that Humphrey is "torch red" so that I can go and buy paint for him.
Which would be so lame.
I would fuck up.
--
I spent every moment of this summer hating New jersey and now I'm wondering how I'm going to keep from freaking the fuck out when I leave.
something about decoys, the password being that the moon shines like _____, and the provincial town of clarkweed.
don't be scared.
over and out
At first I tried to figure it until the other day when I woke up after dreaming of the day that I was to enter -upon- waking up and saw my dream companion quiet on the pillow next to my head.
And then I turned my head and saw my best friend, docile in the smothering heat of the shitty camp tent that we were sleeping in.
I was dying in there and I took my inhaler in order to even be able to slightly breathe.
I turned back over and watched Alan sleep, brushing the hair sticking slightly to the sweat on his forehead aside and placing the back of my hand on it to check for a fever.
I was worried because he'd been sick the night before and I'd held his head up from the dirt before allowing him to be sick and then figuring out how to get him to fall asleep peacefully.
Now it was the morning after and I'd wanted to make sure that it was nothing more than a disagreement of camp food and booze.
When I did this, his lips fell open only slightly and his breathing sounded like soft waves.
And I suppose that's when I realized that there is no way that I am going to figure out anything about the apocalypse anytime soon.
Because I can't even get myself to leave Alan and Christie's side to escape the choking heat of a shitty tent.
Living too much to think about dying?
Realization that for the first time in my life I don't get -my- life, let alone future galactic existence?
(which is odd because usually one starts out not knowing and then eventually understands one's own life at around my age, not the other way around)
I'm not even slightly sure.....
Which... I suppose is really okay because being 'not even slightly sure' about anything is my new default paradigm as of late.
I mean, usually when I say that I'm not sure about something, I am usually just holding back the answer because I am under-estimating myself or thinking that maybe my opinions on the matter will be null or extraneous, but this time, I think the answer is either something too epic for me to even begin to explain right now or else it's something that I truly can't or won't allow myself to understand.
--
The best cure against impending doom this past week has been making fires.
(and drinking beers. All activities to be done were pretty much announced to be completed, "after this beer."
Example:
A)Yo, kid, are you going to put some more logs on the fire?
B) Yeah man. I'm going to do that after this beer. And then I am going to move into default activity mode and grab another beer.)
Every afternoon at Lake George, I would set-up a fire to be lit as the daylight disappeared.
Then, every night, we drank by it, watching it crackle and flame, calling it out on loving to be bitched around, and stabbing it with sticks and fire gloves and a big plastic m-16.
(M-16 picturedin lower right, two boys in the background are "the jeffs", the foreground boy is ashley's boyfriend's friend named danny, and that hand is Alan's.)
On the last night we cooked chicken fried rice on the fire, burned the m-16, and talked about what the dying embered logs looked like to us.
This one looked like a man with a sombrero on to Alan and if you can't see him then you're a computer virus.
(seesee? the front log be his hat, yo)
Aside from the heathen attraction to burning every motherfucking object within reach, the best part about making fires was our created log-setting technique terms.
1) One vertical log amidst horizontals is a "jesus log."
2) Two jesus logs side by side amidst horizontals is a "twin tower."
3) One fatty log set on top of a mess of broken down ember-ridden logs is called a "yule log" and will be referred to as "Moby dick" if it bears resemblance to a whale.
4) If you are going to use an object to shove fire abandoning the pit back where it belongs, you are "batterying that shit." The term batterying is not exclusively for fire use, however batterying -does- tend to come in handy with fires.....
(and with getting gross melted airheads off of picnic tables.... which was where the term was spawned as I used a double A battery to get the job done)
5) Everything must go.... except batteries and propane tanks.
6) Get your wood from the wood truck, not the wood/ice truck.
--
More advice for campers
(especially Lake George motherfuckers)
!) Neverlook (at the obviously fabricated human beings) that pass by your campsite and watch out for completely random and just as obviously fabricated noises that they make from afar.
(example: you are sitting by the fire, drinking a beer. You hear silence in the campsite next to you followed by an unprovoked and creepily seemed staged set of canned sounding laughter from a group of people sitting by -their- fire, only to have the silence immediately return without further conversation. like. what. the fuck.)
@) Acknowledge the white lighter revolution.
#) Don't trust babies on jugs of water.
$) Boy-cott aliens in mini-vans.
%) Always zipper the tent.
^) The only acceptable form of a shower are the lathering up of a few wafers of thinly sliced soap while swimming in the lake.
&) One pair of jeans.
*) Beware any vehicle emitting a faint beeping sound while moving forward.
!!) Befriend any duos named "jeff" (specifically jeffro and jeffrican)
@@) Filter88
##) Mosquito coils spray lanterns candles.
$$) Use the flfphone. It's the only one that works.
%%) Use a flashlight when it gets dark outside.
^^) Three boxes of salt water taffy for five bucks is a miracle. Jump on it.
--
I know what you're thinking... "Wait, Gianna, before you mentioned how Ashley's boyfriend's friend was in some picture...... Ashley's boyfriend's friend... Ashley's.......
Wait! Ashley has a new boyfriend???"
Yeah, totally. His name's Chris.
Once I picked her up from his house late at night and there were two boys on his lawn:
One playing guitar and one passed out cold with his face in the grass and his body outstretched.
"Which one is your boyfriend, Ashley, is he the one that's dead?"
And she said yes and thought it was so funny how his friend just sat there picking away and watching over the motionless figure as if he were on some faraway park ledge.
--
So. I was called 'a piece of shit' by an employee of an establishment AGAIN.
This time I was buying cigarettes at a gas station in upstate new york with alan and ryder.
I'd given the chick 23 dollars (it was 13.90) and told her that I had exact change.
When I looked up from counting out the 90 cents, I went to hand it to the man standing next to the chick (they looked like a pakistani couple) my change and realized that he only had his outstretched to hand me a dime.
The chick then handed me a bunch of bills.
I was completely confused as to why they weren't taking my change and giving me a ten dollar bill, but I just took the dime from the man and the bills from the chick and opened my change purse and put BACK all of the change I'd counted out while muttering, NEARLY INAUDIBLY, "wow, I guess I counted that change for nothing, huh."
I looked up at the man.
He was standing there holding my id and when I went to grab it and leave, he pulled his hand away and asked me "what my problem is."
Absolutely astounded that a clerk was attempting to withold my id from me in order to force me into confrontation with me, I said, "Excuse me sir, are you kidding me, give me my id please."
He handed my id to me and I started to walk towards the door in order to leave when he shouted at me, "Piece of SHIT."
I had my hand on the door handle and was starting to push, but the moment I heard it, I whirled around.
Christie was three people back in line.
"wowwwwww," she said.
A hefty bald man widened his eyes and tried to hold back his laughter.
"There is ABSOLUTELY no reason for you to be calling a customer a piece of shit" was all I said before walking out the door.
I hadn't wanted Ryder to be given a hard time.
They gave her a hard time anyway.
But yeah, what the hell, man?
What is it with assholes always calling ME a piece of shit???
And it's always the most ridiculous weird misunderstanding somehow because I am pretty much never actively TRYING to be a piece of shit.
--
This is Tony doing an impression.
This is Doof not doing an impression.
This is Christie. That's all.
--
I am absolutely over-ridden with wounds from chopping wood, stubbing feet, and random absolutely mystifying events which caused me to bruise and bleed in my sleep.
psycho-somaticcccccccccccccccc, maybe?
joint dreaming results, maybe maybe??
--
Blah blah blah bats in my belly and caterpillars all over my body
when I'm only half dead noticing you are so
close to me that you look like
a new painting.
and that never goes away.
--
I went through camping withdrawals last night.
got stoned and then went to my friend's house to quench the un-forgivable sweating desire to just drink a god damned beer.
And I drank six to my associates averaged three because once it got close to when we needed to be leaving, I said that I would be ready to leave "after this beer" and after that beer I went to pee and then I went outside and picked up the full beer on the deck with the hole punched in it from being dropped and shot-gunned it.
--
Part 4: Haunted benefactor
You muller fokker!
(That's the joke, right?)
(Book read is The Muller-Fokker effect by john sladek)
--
You know... I think the Jeffs are right.
We -are- fucking savages.
--
If you were wondering, that title is something that we got these weird kids advertising some free show via out-the-truck-window-screaming to yell while we were in Lake george village..
It was so catchy.
People on the sidewalk were all buzzing about it... and shit.
Also, Christie went into a store once to look for a present for her boy while Alan and I sat on the sidewalk and ate taffy.
(THREE FOR FIVE!)
A bunch of lame-ass kids stood near us talking and I spent the next five minutes throwing wolf pack snap things at their feet while neverlooking at their faces.
And one kid said something about ' oh damn, your feet are under siege."
I just kept throwing them and throwing them.
and I never had to talk to them because I neverlooked.
yeah man, free guns at the pizza chuch.
--
Decoy reunion show tomorrow, the bros are going to slay the crowd.
I hope I can slay some people too.
but you know, with a sweet axe, not sweet licks.
--
Today Humphrey got new air conditioning and the other day he got a tune-up and I think that SOON he is going to be painted!
Otherwise, my dad told me that Humphrey is "torch red" so that I can go and buy paint for him.
Which would be so lame.
I would fuck up.
--
I spent every moment of this summer hating New jersey and now I'm wondering how I'm going to keep from freaking the fuck out when I leave.
something about decoys, the password being that the moon shines like _____, and the provincial town of clarkweed.
don't be scared.
over and out