This Is One Result of These Past 7 to 8 Years of Whatever I've Been Doing

- I regret this post a lot. Aaron and Andee read it and were disgusted. I wrote it over a year ago, and I revised it less than a year ago for some dumb reason, or for no reason I think. I did not reason, like most of my life. I should delete it. But I will leave it for now... I am being so dumb. I am still wasting 99% of my time. OK, I am stopping now. geezus kryste  - March 20, 2018 -

" Be cool: I am not supposed to tell you this. I feel bad about it ... kiNdA! { ; smeeerk* "

- I was a really annoying, terrible person writing this, I have to hate this about myself.

-

So, I went to Julie's House, on Sage Road, Bastrop County -
you know - My feet, my wheels, my hand, et cexterra.
Her name is Julie M. W.
It dozent matter. I write neatly....
enough. So, we stand near the front door
about ten feet apart. She says, Hi, greggy.
I say, " --- Nothing.
We stare at each other's eyes blankly, content.
I Why and Without.
She stands up straight, holds her arms a few inches out to her sides, spins slowly, and closes her eyes.

we are A steady stream . .

one minute.
her skin and her clothes are.
I say, Thanks. I walk back home calmly.
She absorbs
and her every cell is half.

Then she leaves home and walks the streets
touching every woman she sees.
If she lays even a fingertip on any part of their bodies,
they become pregnant with an XXY baby,
23 from Julie and 23 from me.

I lie in bed at my mom's house
thinking this over and through.
...
So, I call Mr. president and say, Abort.
He makes every human 18 years old instantly.
Each new human starts at 18.
Every human is now self-sufficient forever.

We build cradles for no one and subsist on squirrels and kelp.

I'm Never Gonna Watch YouTube

I really wanna watch YouTube and not think anymore.

I really wanna watch YouTube and live as other people.

I really wanna watch YouTube and not think about anything else.

I really wanna watch YouTube and live through other people.

I really wanna watch YouTube and not have to think anymore.

I really wanna watch YouTube, and I want to live as better people.

I want to live through better people than myself.

I really wanna watch YouTube: People playing games and talking to each other.

I really wanna watch YouTube: People in cars going to see each other.

I really wanna watch YouTube: People saying jokes and laughing hard.

I really wanna watch YouTube: Good-looking people with hair and faces and eating things and doing stuff and saying things. And laughing and doing things with people. And going to places with their lives and doing lots of stuff. And thinking and talking and feeling different things. And doing stuff and feeling and being alive. And doing stuff and recording it all on cameras and uploading it to the website YouTube.

I really wanna watch YouTube, so I don't have to be a human.

And I don't want to think about things that I will never do or try.

I don't wanna think about how much I have failed and how much I'll never be able to accomplish because I just wasted a bunch of time and resources on feeling like I'm so interesting because I think that nothing is real or nothing is of consequence to me because I'm just gonna die. And who cares if anyone remembers and why does anything exist? And is there a God, and why am I thinking all these things? And why am I thinking these things and what should I actually do? And does it matter if I do anything or what I think? And do I really wanna care or do anything or think anything?

Uhh.

Welcome to the land where we farm the corn. Eveyone's lookin' at the sun, cuz we just woke up from a daydream, and we'll think about eating other things and the genitalia of our best friends.

Wanna go to sleep at 9 o' clock in the evening and look at the star, cuz your eye gets wet. Look at her eye, cuz she's your best friend and your only daughter, and you want to chop her head off and donate it to the universe, so she'll glow like a star forever and ever until she blows up and blows stardust all over the universe, and then the universe dies, and there's nothing but time, and time goes on forever, but behind and beyond time, there's an eternal awakening of the spirit of existence itself. Reality meshes with the squids and the worms and the bugs up in my fingernail beds.

Now we're feelin' good, cuz we drank a bottle of whiskey, and we're singin' and dancin' on the porch, cuz it's Friday night.

We're eating steaks. Colorado is the best place to be, when you're just like me.

I'm never going to watch YouTube, cuz I make myself a better looking dude, who thinks that he likes to be like people are today, when they do things that they can proudly say that they have done.

And a guy I know brought a gift for me, and I used part of it and gave part of it to someone who I see often enough.

And then I stopped this recording, and I drank a bunch of black and green tea, and I sat down, and I read about a thousand pages of a book that made me think, and then I thought,

'Hm, I'm gonna go get some money and donate it to the people who eat the goats for breakfast.'

The End

A Diary Entry Blog Post

It's December 20, 2016.

It's very early.

I woke about 3:30 am.

I'm listening to "Sleeping Lessons" Spotify radio.

I feel pretty good.

I'm kind of tense.

I wonder if spelling and grammar are equally important.

I wonder if I'll ever read another person again.

I wonder if I'll ever shower again.

I wonder what I'll do today.

I wonder what exactly I should do.

I don't feel stupid listening to Arcade Fire.

I love them.

I want to read Crime and Punishment.

I feel bad for disappointing Aaron by not reading the books I began.

God is very confusing to me.

Free will and temptation are too.

I want to eat breakfast with Mom today.

We will both drink black coffee... from K-cups.

I yawned and slid my water.

The metal and wood made a sound.

Excuse me.

66.6%! (: im drunk

Condiments such as iceberg lettuce and freedom of speech.

I did not do what I thought I'd do.

I want to sleep for two hours starting now.

I think I slept between 5 and 6 hours last night.

I have paced a lot today.

It's - It was about 3:30 pm I think, then I got distracted,

and now it's about 4:20.

I decided I do not want to sleep until tonight.

I listened to music for a while.

I have read a tiny bit.

I dug up an ant hill.

I washed dishes.

I drank white russians and used up the Kahlua.

Aaron called, and he invited me to shop with him tomorrow.

It'll be good to get away.


I ask again, why does this hurt so much?

I was just lying in bed trying to relax and tears came out of my eyes.

I was scrolling thru facebook a bit ago.

It seems everything is wrong and everyone is wrong.

I'm so embarrassed.

I don't know why it's so hard to read and eat vegetables.

It feels like I have put myself in a situation

where being awake is unbearable.

We ate pepperoni rolls.

It's not really hard to do what I know I should do.

I don't know what stops me or why I stop myself and just kill time

and do dumb stuff instead.

Some things are easier.

I want to do what is easiest.

But then I think I am worthless and I hate myself and I do not want to live,

then that becomes the most difficult thing I ever deal with.

I keep thinking, eventually everything will die, all matter will freeze.

Why try to keep anything going or try to change anything?

I have no idea what I will be after I die.

I do not know if I will die.

I think I basically know nothing.

Why do I care if life or eternity is full of pain or joy?

What is "good"? What is "bad"?

What is "something"? What is "nothing"?

I drank alcohol.

I ate bread and cheese.

I listened to some words from Aaron's body?

I made some sounds; he understood words.

We drove on a busy road.

We saw children.

We saw shapes and colors.

We felt blood in our skin and muscles.

We felt the rumbling car and wind.

We felt heat and cold.

I felt like I might vomit.

I thought of semen and female tongues and lips.

I thought of American zoos and 30 Rock and boobs.

I thought of starving black babies.

I thought of open wounds and blood and pus

and maggots and worms and decay.

Tears roll down my cheeks again.

I hear punk guitars.

I hear snare and bass drum and cymbal.

I think of fresh green cabbage.

I think of rain.

I need to shit.

I am in a wooden building, one floor, big windows on all four walls. Sheriff Harry Truman runs up and enters. He is being chased by many large scary animals. He says they won't get in. They immediately break thru the glass and pour inside. I am terrified. I climb something to get away. A vicious tiger swipes at me.

Church Marquee:

Our Heart is the Flower that will always be blooming by the ever-burning Light...

Prepare to Forgive

Rape Raped Raping Raper Rapist Rapey Rapier Rapiest

Hat Pod Hat Jimmy Hat Ghoul Hat Cool Hat Bum Hat Sick Hat Blood Hat Cat Hat Burn Hat Bomb Hat Cull Hat Wish Cap Lead Cap Balls Cap Weed Cap Whip Cap Sweeet Cat Wheat Cap Long Cap

Quell. Quash. I am. Surprisingly literati.

Original Document

Transform the future we all share.
Save the children.
Is digging a world into a wall with the paint of 500 miles and 30 miles of ocean too much work for 5 years of 2 hands and 2 feet and 2 eyes and 200 pizzas and 500 glasses of wine for 2 women who are full sisters and 3 children --> 30,998 shits?... I drew Map, Girl 17 made a star my eye dance paper ink letters... 3 moon, 1 starlight.
The end, the other 5 Beatles made my eye leak dick water. On TV, the Asian decorator made children eat Christmas. 'Twas very fun. Fireplace 9 made person perfect Inferno Ties Lie.

Baaaaaaad Gang of Kids

Is it a shame if we can't decide
How much we love each other...
Tonight?


Let's join a bad gang of kids
Doin' bad shit to other kids.
Doin' pull ups at the gym.
Hittin' baseballs over the fence.
Throwin' footballs over the bridge.


Teachin' bad people how to live.


Let's join a baaaaaaad gang of kids.

More Meaning

When I urinate in front of my
childhood home, staring up
at the trees and the cloudy black night,
I wish there was more meaning
in every detail of my life,
like in Delicacy starring
Audrey Tautou.

I read a page of Crime and Punishment,
translated into English by Jessie Coulson,
then the pale purple of my
bedroom walls
really does look really purple
to me now.

Bye,

Love Greg.

November 32nd 2,016

Connie Chung looks at me in
my human TV screen.
She says, "Taxes are for
the rich; poor people
are for the poor.
Nobody knows what
they're saying anymore."

The year is two thousand seventeen,
and 17 year olds are too lucky
to be a live these days.
Nothing matters more
than what anybody says.

Her kind doll face,
a fake ficus, daybreak
news anchors, Paradise buffet,
Philidelphia, Artificial environment,
12,000 dollar cameras,
downtown Austin TV studio.

Pinapple and a bagel.
Wispy grey sky.
Precious fragile mind.
People full of fluffy
jellybeans, infinity
frivilous rainbows.

I want to find Ways to Reverse Reductive Thoughts, formerly How to Race Reducing Thoughts

In order to turn off a racing mind, you have to deny it the fuel it needs to start spinning in the dark. 

LAST

More Real Times to Have and to Hold Onto

I began about ten seconds ago.

I began about ten minutes ago, too.

I guess nothing can ever be done.

Or do I just want to excuse myself from following through?

I mean that nothing is ever perfect, except God. In a way, everything is perfect always.

But I guess some things can only be done once and there is nothing more to try to perfect.

For example, if I chop a log and the axe goes right through and it's a clean cut... that's pretty perfect. There is a range of cuts and sizes of wood that would all be equally useful for firewood.

And I kiss a 26 year old female human with pale skin and black hair.

I like her. She likes astronomy.

I like suicide notes, but not suicide or suicidal thoughts or feelings.

By "feelings" I meant suicidal feelings, but now I mean all feelings.



The feeling of joy that I get from insights is incidental, unintended, and corruptable. It's nice, joy is. But it is not necessary. Aaron said nothing but the Trinity is necessary. Feelings are not as valuable as words or insights. Feelings are inevitable, but life would be fine if they were gone somehow. But life would not be life without feelings. 



There are happy and sad bacteria floating in the ocean.

I feel good that I am home alone with very few responsibilities.... there are too many 'i's in 'responsibilities', but I like it.

It's quiet here. 

Peaceful.

I think I should read Music That Is Soundless, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Marcus Aurelius's Meditations, or Crime and Punishment. I don't want to read right now, but I do want to read at least three more pages of Crime and Punishment today, and I want to read more of Alice today. I want to read the other two, but not anytime soon, because I feel uncomfortable trying to read most of the time, and those books are more difficult to read.

Classic pain and gain.

Big muscle boobs.

I watched about an hour of the Royal Tenenbaums this morning.

I really love it.

I don't want to talk to Aaron, because it is difficult. I don't even want to listen to him.

I want to descibe this feeling.

It's uneasy, maybe queasy, cold and hot, shaky, face hurting, clammy, sticky, tastes bad and smells bad, like rotten vegetables, or pee, or really bad tomato sauce, feel like something will rip and sting and bleed.



That might be the main reason feelings can be bad: I can feel any feeling for any reason, or for no reason. They should not be trusted. They must be felt, but they should be subject to reason, and they should not determine choices that people make. I guess they usually have to affect what people do, because they are integral to being human. 



I believe people should try to be healthy and try to help themselves reach their positive potential.

One should first try to help oneself, then as many other people as possible. 

Maybe every human or every family should have a fertile peaceful acre of land. Maybe an average of two people per acre.

Maybe there will be 8 billion people by 2020.

We'll need 4 billion acres. That should be about half of the arable earth.

People will go to their acres by plane or boat or train or road.



Everyone will live by the same rules:

- Always get permission from anyone affected by anything you do, before you do it. Or at least be reasonably certain that the effect will be positive.

- Do not do anything if you think anyone will probably be negatively affected by it.

- Try to do something that will perfect the world, including yourself.

That is all that needs to be done.



I imagine a beautiful family playing frisbee at the local park, 3,000 years from now, in 5,016 A.D. They love Jesus. Mom, Dad, a boy named Junus, and a girl named Rew. 

Dad paints everything. Mom designs government websites. Junus wants to explore the ocean. Rew wants to fix human brains.

They eat a type of pasta that is perfectly healthy. During the night two tormadoes pass through town, but only ten trees and three shrubs are damaged. 

. . . I have to type this - no, I don't :  . . . Rew is 16 years old now. A boy named Fooden comes to her house after Rew says it's okay. Her family is away from 4:15 to 9:00 in the evening. She and Fooden watch TV, cook and eat a frozen pizza . . . . Of course, Rew does not enjoy anything about it, except sharing the experience and the fact that it is probably the best time of Fooden's life so far.

Young but not too Young

7. 8.

Tim dropped me off at Bastrop High at 8:44 a.m. on May 15th, 2006 a.d. Monday. Sitting in his blue Chevy Cobalt and in his blue plaid pajama pants, he said, "See ya later," and drove back home or wherever he went. I wore hand-me-down faded blue jeans and a dark striped button up shirt. There was a bleeding sore between my legs. There was another sore that was not bleeding somewhere else between my legs.

So, I walked slowly and awkwardly into the main building to my first period. I saw Jaime and Charles in the halls. Jaime said, "Hey, Big Greg, how's it hangin'?" I did a little smile thing, lifted a hand toward him, and said quietly, "Heey." Charles looked at me, made a wide thin mouth, and tipped his head back in recognition. I smiled and waved quickly. My mom was Asian.

Some people tied an American flag around the statue of our leader outside. Outside was grey and windy. The high school was built in 1909, making it 63 years old.

In the classroom, I sat 6 feet away from Katy. She wore a vintage white dress. She looked like an American Girl doll. Her hair was blonde like the sun at noon. My feet were very sweaty. When I was not staring at my desk or the floor, I glanced at Katy. Our eyes met 11 times during that class. My eyes green, her eyes blue. In the wild southeastern section of the county, a wildfire had burned over 42 acres and counting.

8. 9.

Katy walked nicely to the foootbaaal field. I walked to the railroad crossing by the field and sat on the eastern rail.
Jim and Chuck ate two burritos each outside the lunch hall.
There were two crowds on the through street, one by the lunch hall, one by the band hall. The day was sunny.
All the old kids wore new clothes, like dancing pants and school spirit hoodies.
I scratched my butt cheek, thought about my bleeding holes, and almost cried.
Katy waved to me from 55 yards away, and I imagined ejaculating on empty black space.

The day became very warm, 88 degrees Fahrenheit. I saw Julio and Adrienne holding hands while they walked to 3rd period. The train came so I got up and went into the main halls. I was sweating a lot in my deep spots. I saw Ashley and Diane talking and giggling, and I accidentally smiled. We all avoided each other, sanely. Mr. Wubbush called out to the horde of students, "All right, guys, get to class now or go home!!" I thought about calculus, and I understood nothing about it, except that it exists.

"I went like fuckin' 45 minutes without seein' a monster... and I was like Ohmyfuckin'god, so I skipped to level 8... did you see Bowser's tail at the end of that cut scene like right before you get to the Koopa fortress? ... Anyway I was like fuckin' nigga BAM, and he died like right away, obviously... I had like 50 thousand coins, then my fuckin' stupid ass brother saved over my fuckin' file!"

I looked at some other strange kids in front of the building, voices drifting. My shoulders got sore from my backpack straps. A worker guy walked around the edges of the parking lot, blowing leaves. I held a copy of Doing Yourself by R. H. Lipsky that I found on Mom's forgotten bookcase. I flipped it over and looked at the back cover again; I hadn't read the whole cover or a whole page; I just let my eyes jump around. Katy came out of the front doors and walked up to me. Looking up, I noticed all the dark smoke in the southern sky.
"Hi, Gregory. Whatcha doin'," she grinned.
"Uhh... nothin'," I tried to force my face into a relaxed, natural, and pleasing expression.
"Yeah... Looks like it's a-gonna rain, huh!?"
I was scared. I said, "I dunno. Maybe."
She sat down on the other end of the stone bench. "Hm..." she said. "So, what's that?," gesturing to the Lipsky.
"Um, just some psychology kinda book from a long time ago." The pages were dark yellow.
"Is it good?"
"Um, I don't know. I haven't read much."
"Great... Hmmm. Let me know what happens..." She squinted tightly, shivered and shook herself. I breathed deeply. My jaw clenched; my head began to ache.
"Ah... You look like you use the computer a lot. You do, right?" said Katy.
"Uh... I guess so..." I swallowed spit. My sinuses tingled; my cheeks warmed.
After an almost ten second silence, she blurted, "I am totally failing history this year."
"... Ah... damn."
"Yeah... it fuckin' sucks real shit."
I looked up from her shoes to her face. She wore a wild and confused smile. She stared at one spot on the concrete. I smiled sincerely, in rapture. She looked at my face. Her brow unfurrowed; her eyes brightened. I mimicked her. We laughed faintly through our noses. Tim pulled up on the driveway. I said to no one, "I gotta go." I stood and moved toward the car.
"Bye, Gregory!" She waved emphatically. I turned my head, looking at nothing, and raised my right hand to her.
"Bye, Katy."

9. 10.

AlphaBetiCalLy Supportive

Apples belong.
Beta carotene.
Compact decision.
Deluge emerging.
Every fuck.
Fucking god.
Gold hero.
Heaven's iglesia.
I joke.
Just Kiddo.
Killing Libedos.
Lasting Moral.
Messy Nomenclature.
Noble Object.
Omniscient Persuader.
Practical Quest.
Quiet Remembrance.
Real science.
Scalding tea.
Treasonous utilitarian.
Untimely vacancy.
Venerated widow.
Wild xylophone.
Xanadu's youth.
You're zeroing.
Zephyrs arise.

                                                    Goodnight, mo.
I am wearing underwear.
I am the CEO of 500 fortune 500 countries.

                 If his head is crunchy and her genitals (and all of her internal reproductive organs (the function of Life (her whole human body) is to reproduce itself)) are as soft and smooth as warm, pure water, then I can relax at 4:38 pm, while Dinosaur Jr. plays from the car speakers, broadcast by KUTX, as I am leaving Bastrop, TX, driving my mom's car back to my apartment in Austin; my mother and I are going to a Thai restaurant to meet family to acknowledge my brother Patrick's 33rd birthday; it's election night, 2016, and I'm watching Live NBC coverage on Youtube on my TV and listening to the album Acapulco by Cribshitter, and I drank 2 mugs of Malbec; OK, now I'm done.

Happy USA Write-Away

I wrote away my days like a nihilist;
I rode supersonic waves that science missed.

Popular demand produced a chaos fetish;
Unable to stand, I became an otter fish.

Hellish water cycles and other worldly maps
Expunged our ubiquitous Navy Garden chaps.

Artichoke Fever Month had me gasping for light;
I wound up sleeping at my neighbor's overnight.

In-No-cent, dumb, naive, foolish, idiote-Que,
All the ways of being Happy in the USA.

+

Most mornings I think yesterday was Baghdad.
I walk on tepid streets wond'ring if Gal-a-had.
I used to be a woman, but now they run me monad.

The End

Music. Numbers.
Fire. Brothers.
It's night time.
The death of my mind.

It's early enough to lie in bed.
It's cold enough to keep my eyes closed.
Strings. Strains.
I rub my cheek on the pillow case.

Words printed on pages,
torn to unreadable pieces,
laid in the trash,
yyiuiyttm,kulfytsd /   ?G:

All rite, break time

you prove to your promise

hands dig through gross pre-soil

oh you're out of time, Stand up, Leave the walls.

10/27/16 ... late internet What...

our beauty son, Dairy

I don't carrot a Michigan saddle horse

Rock and Roll Spaceship (Song)

Slow Verse 1:

Rock and roll spaceship,
the moon is your bitch.

You look like a Neptune
with pizza for lips.

Slow Verse 2:

A Siamese kitchen,
a carpet of grass,

slimy potatoes,
a bowl full of laughs

Slower Chorus:

Run away from
your fundamental cares

Sleep under
the harrowing stairs

Blissdoubt

These people were 4 years old in 1994. They were named Ashley Oney, Gregory Wredberg, and Kimberly Boike. They were also given middle names. They had dirty blond and brown-dirt, dry clean hairs. They had many skin colors each, different from each other, from the light Crayolas, beige and brown, like northern summer tree bark.

Now this must be shared: They went to at least 3 of Montreal concerts, I don't remember exactly.
I don't exactly remember if Greg imagined fucking Kim or Ashley, or kissing them... but now I am almost certain He did, eventually, the Porn of his childhood.

Kevin Barns were Very Sexy. I got little boners. I got Italian Red Wine. Greg and Kim went on a few romantic dates, but Kim moved on, but they were still friends, and Greg hung out with Ashley more than any other non-family member, and he thinks he may have loved her, however inactively.
They were Many Movies and Music. They were Schools and Jobs at Businesses. Trees and Concrete were everywhere, Goddamn blue skies, Big Biutiful Grey Clouds.
Whatever, Suck your balls.
We played a game, and we dreamed.
I hate every thought that I thought about.
I drank 8 Liters of Water,
Holy Austin, Blissful Bastrop,
doin' sex with 16 year-old white trash girls. Too-expensive suburban homes,
WOW, Two parents, Goddamn Brothers,
EWW, Desktops and Laptops,
The Fucking Internet Especially Youtube

Then they all left, there they were.
An asphalt road 300 miles long, 300 turns and veers and exits, 3,000 days. 3 little poor dumb people, I said to them. How about Hallelujah at the high school's littlest gymnasium;
A foolish regurgitation of fallow memories, doin' drugs alone, havin' sex with primitive electronic technology.
Ashley, Greg, and Kim met again at their 10 year high school reunion. Only one chunky clunky kid committed himself to suicide in the dark recess at middle school, bloody brick trails to your Generation Eroding Plastic. Growth on the Air of Abiding Cooks and Faithful Gardeners.

Objective

Lake Bell Tonight

Song: Contempory Hoppin' Rap Pop Groove Town Ship Happy Not-Rape, Dance Till We Die, Have baby, eat thanksgiving, give them half my Monies.

"You can be orange; you can change your minds."

My objective, for living life with us around here now foreseeable, is to trace the outer edge of Lake Bell's lips with my fingers, around and around. And we should stare at each other's facial features and study the tiniest expressions and shapes to learn about each other as this moment, then concrete the past to change into our future lives together, made sacrifice, choices obligate and deny fun for other more valuable and sincere love apologies.

The End

I watched most of Wet Hot American Summer First Day of Camp today. I have one episode left. I googled Lake Bell as I watched. I looked at photos of her, with and without clothes for a while. I masturbated while looking at photos of her naked. I think they were supposed to be private photos.  I was not even really sexually aroused. I was just completely fascinated by staring at photos of her, thinking I will never see anything more attractive. I got sad and frustrated that I will most likely never be intimate with her or anyone remotely like her.

I feel like being a better person now. I feel like enjoying life more... I am enjoying life more. Lake Bell made me like life and being alive more. I want to be someone who other people can admire, and I want to excite other people.

I like Michael Showalter a lot. I laughed out loud at a few parts of First Day of Camp. The physical gags are really good {: HAha,

Good noigjtt Everyone!

Oh yeah I ran out of money but Mom gave me more!!! Yayy Bye, I love you Lake, I live for myself, I live right now, I promise to live all I can, I expect humanity and history to get better every minute, Eternity is a real fun time for everyone

The End

Line Art Structure

_________________________________________________________ Line

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO Art

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS Structure

F. R. EE Z.

Saying time I real member the Ready Sky ready I Envelope 2 cent stamp ready Mail Ready, A sorrens far, In fire Money stoke a sloor a com Deerious

Second - Free Time None Ready Tree Great Greg Just ready, U, R, S.

A scene miopia ventress Neer a dwerintincer

Neg Red Get ready

Ars Min _____________________ ---------------------------------------

Redirected

O. O. O. O.

This kid - 14 years old, in 2014, left his mother's apartment, no school, no job, 9:21 p.m. October 22nd.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSS ARI

Real dead snake ,,,,,,, ///////////

Art Line Structure Reconstruction Real Dead Life

He walked to St. George Washington Road, looking eastward, thinking of father and mother and brother and aunt and cousin and teacher and counselor, streetlight, porchlight, floodlight, lamplight, store signs lights, car lights, road work signs lights, no moon, purple clouds.

B. b. b. b. b. b. Big wide river flowing, he empties his pockets and hears a man talking half a block away. He senses anger and feels scared and angry and tired. Water glistens, smoke and exhaust drift on the wind.

A. a. a. a. a. a. a.

http://watchout4snakes.com/wo4snakes/Random/RandomParagraph

Why does God dash? God hates Greg within the lemon. How will a suggested enthusiasm bounce without God? Why can't Greg riot? The inadequate button determines the past spectrum.

An ethnic mechanism bushes Greg. Inside Greg cheats God. A concerned hospital reconciles Greg into another editor. The door fails against God.

Aaron speculates without Greg. A sixty neck surfaces behind Aaron. Aaron poses the sky into the guest. Should Aaron walk throughout Greg?

Aaron mangles Greg against the cloud. The tragic effort stomachs a physical biography. The sufficient spirit cheeses Aaron. Greg suspends Aaron past a cookie.

Aaron twins a developer. Aaron abolishes an existing continental. Aaron solos near my favorite deed. A hearing microprocessor wows Aaron within the anthology. Aaron results on top of the holding circuit. God informs the stark theory below a willing delight. God dodges in a largest demise. God bicycles with the earlier expert. Why won't God smell after its lowest guard? The photographic apathy encloses Greg. Behind his car loses the pin. A thick broadcasts his hooked stress. The mistaken skin crashes past a noise.

from one month ago

Tumbler.com

I am never dissappointed.

Driving for 50 something miles on South Eastern Ontario, I felt about half-empty of thoughts, blood, and gore. My right half near a car window (connection to green trees and blue sky/white clouds) felt too full and rusty.

My left half - lighter than air, lighter than light. No mind. A body beyond minds. A mind beyond everything. A chart on white paper: a black circle in the center of a black circle. A smiling teacher in a healthy classroom. Too late to learn anything now. Just wait.

The end

from last month

I want to know what this apartment was like while the previous tenants occupied it. I want to know what their lives were like.

That's what Mom said.

That's what Aaron agreed.

Why I Wrote This

a chopped boiled yam

Vanilla - Origin

Messiness, haste, bad posture, hesitation, seclusion, tears.

Ill-health, Ill-will

2 man-handfuls of cashews

Two male humans are conceived. 20 years later, they walk side by side on a path between a river and a mountain, lit by a star. They catch and kill a deer. They sit in a cave on the side of the mountain and eat most of the deer over the next 5 days. Just before dawn on the fifth day, a thunderstorm blows onto the mountain. Surrounded by rain and lightning, a lion attacks one of the men. The other man stabs the lion in the throat and it runs away. The first man bleeds from his left leg. They wrap it with long green leaves. He limps and winces. They walk back on the path to where they came from. They lay on 2 large rocks by the ocean. The sky is bright, the brightest. The air is warm, the most comfortable. They sleep. Four people walk along the beach towards the two men. They all examine each others' faces. They all walk back along the beach. Over the next 4 years, they dig a large hole into the side of hill by the ocean. This is their home now. They eat fish and nuts. They have no children. They die, one by one. 3 thousand years from now, you read this and wonder what it means.

Amazon! Prime! Now! 10-14-2016

Light is fickle.
Steady constant -
A dog's name -

No one's got a job, really, ever.
I caught a bus.
A stranger missed a bus.

She must have been college-aged.
She talked to the bus driver.
I think her hair was brown.

A train was stalled.
I wonder what I'll eat next.
I wonder when I'll eat next.

Downtown is shinier
Than my small suburb.
Buildings show each other their reflections.

Immediately after a rain, I
Wonder at shapes, depths, and movements,
until I have something real to do.

Some people wasted our time
on the 6th floor of the Hilton on 4th street.
I wanted to ask each one,

"What would you rather be doing?"
I waited for my mom and her car
In the farthest corner of the

Hooter's parking lot. Lunch at
Threadgill's, now the future, infinity
Plus one, the buffalo chicken salad

And the cute waitress. We tightly,
warily grin, drifting past a business sign
Graveyard at 3 p.m. in Austin, Texas.

Friday night, alone in my apartment,
I watched Tokyo Story
And cried. I texted with Aaron.

Then he called me and made
Me cry, painfully and inexplicably.
Everyone's worried.
Everyone's okay.

A New Poem by Gregory Wredberg for Everyone

1.

The dragon sleep at noon,
but the monkey wakes at midnight.

Condensation coats their enclosure.
Icy illness penetrates their
soul's jam preserve.

2.

My most painful experiences
have been listening to
Aaron tell me what he
thinks of me...
Or when I think of how
I should be or what I am.
So... After 4,000 years
... in the next 4,000 years,
the human being

of themselves
fortuitous opportunity
for inward discovery

3.

Complacent in Jail
Fred forges iron
locks, a serene mind.

45 foot tall tree,
temperate blue sky,
metal bars on window,
spotless bare hall.

Toast, no butter,
white bread, 1 ounce
packets of grape jelly,
Creamy Peter Pan.

Few smiles. Court TV
in the bright fluorescent
cafeteria.

Childer got a fistful of
pansies. His raucous
Caucus mountainous shoulders
twinkle with trickles

of nightly, dandy growth
serum, from natural
plant-human-sealife

wounds. Avast, avail,
as all recycle neon-green
squeegee juice solutions.

how to feel good

I frustrate and disappoint myself more and more.

Pizza and masturbation.

I decided I didn't want to masturbate.

I ate half of a large pepperoni pizza.

I was so excited to be alone, especially to be away from Aaron for at least a day.

I do not know how to think clearly or effectively.

I think I should read.

I am afraid that Aaron is a bad person and is bad for me.


Today I was trying to read Music That Is Soundless and did a bit.

I listened to Sun Kil Moon while I tried to read.

He made me much happier, even though his songs are so sad.

I took a two hour walk yesterday at dawn. At first I listened to Sun Kil Moon, and I cried at Carissa. It is sad because it is true.

It makes me happy because Mark is telling his absolute truth, in detail.

I wish I were a pretty person. I wish I did things to my face to make people happy when they saw it.

I think I truly wanted Aaron to die, so I could relax more.

I want to figure out what I should think about and what I should do.

I guess my only goal, before I sleep at the right time tonight, is to read Music That Is Soundless, in the order that it is written.

I've been listening to a band called Surive for the past hour or so.

When I was reading Music That Is Soundless this afternoon, I was skipping around, back and forth, through the pages and paragraphs.

Reading out of order might be better than not at all.

I can read random sentences, until I have read it all.

I barely understand or remember when I read in order, anyway.

It is so fun and relaxing to do everything badly and wrong.

I am happy for no reason, other than I can be.

I want to blow up and burn.

I really want to know what Evil is and why it exists.

I really want to know what I am.

I really want to create myself.

I want to love myself and everyone unconditionally and eternally.

I want to watch youtube now, bye.

You are free. You forgive yourself. You are free, because no one can give up.

Those are the words I heards in a song in my dream.

I gone into a big bright white light.


A lady walked and stood next to me at some place with other people. She touched my arm, and I screamed, "Get away from me! Don't touch me!" I cried and went away from her.

I woke up scared and frowning, kind of crying and rocking myself.


Everyone is always doing something.

Either they want to do something and they do it, or they want to do something and they don't, maybe they can't, or they want to do nothing, but they can't, or they don't want to do anything and they do something.


I have been watching The Hey Hey Show for a day.

I have been trying to be nothing.


This is something.

Alexander Payne is probably making a movie.

If I am alive, and the world doesn't change a lot, I will probably go see Alexander Payne's next movie.

The End

I thought you mobile phone.
Breakfast moon usurper unpredictable
Reach collegiate pewter processor
Inside zero one nine
Conjure at will
Sacajawea brain fart
Toadstool morning hill
Warm hair
Blood science
Shrahwrk

I Want This to Be Written on My Tomb [ voice recording , inspired by Ceiling Gazing by Mark Kozelek and Jimmy Lavalle ]

Money is dead. My father is an angel.
September came and went, on my calendar schedule.
I am not a good singer, and I have no idea what I am doing.
You look like perfect weather, when you're doing puzzles.

I cried last night, and I cried this morning.
Look at the sky. I bet you wish you were an angel.
It is so fun to fly; just look at the birds in the sky.
I wanted to pee, but I forgot to lock the door.

I know there's about 15,000 children going hungry.
I could try to find them and give them something to eat.
Why would I lie? I'm only a person, a human being.
I don't want to die, but I have to, so I'll just accept it.

I don't wanna feel like I am doing everything wrong.
I hope you're a person who knows what's right and what's wrong.
I wear myself out. I don't know how people can function so well.
I don't know how people can build cities and burn them down.

I don't know how factories are built or how people make
machines that make all the things that we use every day.
I don't care what I think or what I say.
I just need to know the answer to the question:

What are we supposed to be doing?
What is consciousness?
Solipsism is a dangerous mess.
I wish you were here with me right now,

and we could talk about TV and movies and games
and what we're going to do this Christmas.
I hope you're having a beautiful day or night,
or whatever you do, I hope there are people to help you.

Or if you're totally alone, if you're the last human
who will ever live, I hope you find some peace in the afterlife.
I hope the afterlife is kind to you.
I hope I am not too annoying for you.

I'm gonna  go outside today, because my mom is taking me home.
I might be worthless, and I might be sad,
but I'm still alive, and that makes me glad.
So goodbye for now. We'll talk pretty soon.

I want this to be written on my tomb.

My Name Is Abdul Muhammed [ voice recording ]

I'm a German Spaniard from South Africa teaching middle schoolers in Kansas about Jesus Christ Our Lord and Saviour. I can't wait till Christmas, 'cuz I don't have to see these kids for two more weeks.

And now I'm leaving home again to drive to the liquor store for a bottle of Chablis. I'm gonna share it with my beautiful wife, whose name happens to be Sharon, my wife. And... we have grown one beautiful son. His name is Eric, and he killed himself last year.

But I feel OK, because I bought a hunting videogame from Wal-Mart yesterday, and I just got to Level 8; I shot an elephant in the face. My name is Abdul Muhammed. My name is Abdul Muhammed, and I'm a Muslim, but I can't be your friend. I'm a Muslim, but I can't be your friend.

It happens to be Saturday. Nothin' matters. That's just what I say. Nothin' matters, but that's just what I say. I listen to the radio. I listen to the birds on the porch.

My wife calls me. She says, "This is important."
I say, "What's wrong, honey?"
She says, "Can you drive to the Home Depot and get me a package of sealing foam. We've got a little problem at the house."

I hung up the phone and did everything. I thought about a boy I know named Jimmy. He's 13 years old. He seems pretty sad, but he collects himself rather well. He's got short blonde spiky air, and he dresses like a football fan.

I think about how nice it'll be to go to Heaven finally.

I think about how nice it'll be to go to Heaven, finally.

And then I get home, and I see my wife, and we talk a little, and I hug her and kiss her and think about maybe we'll have sex tonight. But her tubes aren't tied, and I don't know if we have any condoms left. And I don't know, if we have any condoms left.

We just gotta try to make it through tonight.

We just got to try to make it through, tonight.
....

I hope you had a good night's sleep.

I hope you had a good night's sleep.

I hope you stick around. I'm gonna make eggs and hash browns.

How do you like your eggs?
...

How do you like your eggs?
...

How do you like my eggs?


The End

My name is Abdul Muhammed!

The Names of Nice People

Mental health exercises for non-human animals

touch the end of your body to the tip of your body.

I wonder if everyone is brimming and trembling with personal confessions and revelations and sorrows and desires.


What do I do with my memories?

How can I remember to consider the eternal effect of all of my actions on every person

. . . .


Should I eat something before I go meet my mom in almost 3 hours?

I think I will get hungry.

I want to eat avocado and garlic salt and spices.

I need to sign up for Indeed.com, if I am going to feel okay about myself.


i want to see holy cows and i want them to go searching all over and i want my home to go somewhere and i want my skin... all over the place............. I want to sleep now. I want to sleep with you.

It is a Happy Tuesday


I know this is too much.


Epic eyerolls


I feel sorry for you. That is what you think about me.


I just want you to think about me. I just want everyone to love me.


I wonder when I will die. I wonder what the best version of my life is.


If I make the best choice I can every time.


The kids climb the mountain. The villagers dig a well. They plant a vegetable garden and put two goats within a fenced yard.

Everything we need. Everything we are. Making music and making movies. Telling stories, vomiting wwords and being confused and tired.


I just read a few paragraphs of an article about Yvon Chouinard, co-founder of Patagonia, the outdoor-apparel company.

It's in the New Yorker.

I really love the description of the natural setting, in Montana.

I want to live at a small house surrounded by many miles of wilderness.


Multiples of five are keeping me alive

I am on the ball, riding to the scariest places on the world

I see them all in my mind, the scariest faces of girls


I just listened to two songs from Carrie and Lowell, by Sufjan Stevens. "The Only Thing" and "I Should Have Known Better"

Now I Am Listening to "Birds of Films" by Sun Kil Moon A.K.A. Mark Kozelek.

He is quite interesting, entertaining, and funny sometimes.

Often he is depressing. Often he is calming. Often he is exciting to me.


Well... I suppose my life might be better if I had a job.

But I don't want to.

I really want to cancel or reschedule my interview at World Market at 6 today.

It is almost 4. I need to leave in an hour and half if I am going to be sure to be there on time... but I think from the email they sent me, that I could get there anytime between 6 and 8 and they would interview me when I got there.

I am going back to Mom's house tonight.

These feeling, the idea of meeting someone and needing to communicate... all the expectations... make me think, I want to kill myself. I think, I am going to kill myself. But I don't really want to die, or try.

I want to cry. I am listening to Sea of Love by Cat Power.

I want to drive to Mom's house right now.

I am tired.

I spent last night at Mom's house.

I woke up from an intense dream that I do not remember any of.... at 1:30 a.m.

I stayed awake until about 7:30. I tried going to sleep. I just felt bad. I felt tense. I would not lay still. It's like my body was made of trapped animals.

So, I am relaxing now and drinking coffee. I have to do this. I just might fall asleep while I am driving.

What a beautiful night of my soul.

Annoying shit in my ear holes in my brain trees. My eye balls aree falling asleep, my mommy,


Please grab my neck and take me to a Warm Soft Silent Dream


I feeel great. I mean I want to. Of couurse... I go to the Sunlight. I go to the shade. I go to World Market today. I get into a wooden basket. I jump out of a small plane 10 thousand feet above Washington DC....


Nothing matters

Nothing means anything

I cannot do this

I am tired again

I am bored with everything, most of all myself

I cannot move

I cannot talk

I am going to eat a bowl of Rice and ground Cow Muscles.

Bye Bye for now My Love-cicle,

Dorito Stain

Money Tree

Big Texas Smile Train

A moment of time.... Haha,

De Ja Vu

{:

Refining Thoughts

I should try to think about how I can make the future better, then I should do those things.

I will try to think about how I will make the future better, then I will do those things.

Some time soon, you will notice that you were not thinking. You will think, what was I thinking?

Soon, I will think, what am I thinking? I will stop thinking. I will think nothing. I will think, I was not thinking. Why was I not thinking? Why am I thinking?

How can I try to think?

How do I try to think?

How will I try to think?

I like verbs more than most other parts o' speech ( or writing )


From Facebook

With mark kozelek. Cozy Leck. Lake. Loch. Cozy cabin in the highlands in the early Autumn with a beautiful young woman who loves everyone...


Am I going to hate and burn and scream and cry and die for Eternity


Do not suffer the Hell of being stuck with only your own thoughts for an uncertain length of time.

ff
I hope Hell is not real.


If it is, I hope I have already lived through it.


Yesterday, after I saw Clarisa, I was in the car, at the light on 35 and Riverside facing west. A man with burn-scarred skin all over him, was walking on the median past the stopped cars. I was in a very good mood, because of seeing Clarisa and having some plans for later, but not that many, and because I was listening to Jeffrey Lewis.

I gave the guy a five dollar bill. He said, "thank you, Jesus. Thank you." I nodded and I think I smiled. I said, "Stay cool." He was sweating a lot. It was sunny, probably 90 degrees. I was a little worried about his health. But I just drove away and waved.

Death is a blessing. And life is a blessing too.

Everyone dies. It is not sad. Life is sad. Life can be sad and wasted in many ways.

I want to try to live.

I want people to try to live well and help each other.

Newtown, Connecticut

Mates of State

My niece, Sofie W-------, born February 22, 2015. Today is September 20, 2016.

I thought of torture as I waited to fall asleep last night.

There is a scene in a war movie, I don't remember, maybe it was American Sniper. A guy in a tiny cell full of flashing light and loud harsh music.

I wished torture had never existed and wished that no one will ever torture someone.


I want to end this post on a positive.

I am listening to Sun Kil Moon and drinking a mug o' wine.


My mom came over from work few minutes ago to get her leftover chicken fried rice from Fire Bowl.

She told me about her difficult day, so far.

I feel OK.

I am supposed to be looking for jobs. I might not ever do that again. I love being jobless and alone.

I love killing myself and living forever happy and fat and dumb and silly and faggot and bitch and cunt and Fellow Human Being and Fellowship of Jesus Christ, the Father and the Holy Ghost.

I like being myself right now.

I love alcohol so much... honestly.

I love music more than anyone, I love singer and songwriters like Mark Kozelek more than anything.

I love people. I fear people. I fear bodily pain.

I hate fear.

I hate evil.

I wonder if evil is real.

Or if it's just people who are failing to be good people. Maybe that is what evil is.

I wonder what "good" really means.

I wonder if all these thoughts and all this typing is a waste of time.

I want to type more facts.

Like that burn-scarred guy.

Clarisa is pretty nice looking. There are a million people I would be more attracted to.

I asked if she wanted to take a walk by the river with me soon. I said I think that would be nice. For us.

She said yes, that would be great.

I am going to spend some time with Aaron tomorrow. With his body. Our bodies will be within ten feet of each other. We will hear each others voices, without telephones or any electronics or technology.

I love this. Track Number 8 by Sun Kil Moon

Good night.

Please do not call me lazy or stupid to my face

I cannot take it

I need to cry

I cannot keep myself from crying

I love complaining even from other people

Happiness makes you cry

Everyone makes everyone cry

and it is good

Tire swings and giant trees and pandas and huge bears and moss covered lands

Science dreams and purple and pink and green and blue skies

Her yes... her eyes... Sparkly stars

Eternity and Love

Love, gregory wredberg {:

Real and Honest

All I want is to be real

and honest.

This is a poem.

Poems are people.

I live my life in this apartment, 500 square feet, two sliding glass doors for windows.

I drink red wine to feel more sane.

I listen to Kimya Dawson and Neutral Milk Hotel.

I am worried about death and pain.

I am worried about evil people and accidents.


I am worried about God and Jesus.

I cry because I am jobless and alone.

I do not know what a human should be.

I do not know what I should be doing.

I hate myself.

I want to die.

I do not want to hurt myself.

I do not want anyone to get hurt.

I want everyone to live beautifully forever.


Why the fucking hell does this hurt this much?


What is pain? Why is pain?


Who is Bright Eyes?

What is Conor Oberst.

Oh Burst

I love these little funny dying loving People.

I love Jesus.

I love God.


My name is Greg.

I am a little human.

I have computers and keyboards.

I know English.

I am alive and awake.

I can use my hands and my eyes.


Nothing will stop your amazing Karate moves.

Have you seen Napoleon Dynamite.

Have you seen Captain Fantastic.

Have you seen World of Tomorrow.


I live in a cave.

I am sure that I will die before I am 100 years old.

I will die in the next 73 years.

I wish I was The Absolute Truth.

I like Movies.

I like People.

I like Trees.

I like Wine.

I like the light of stars like our Sun.

I like electricity and the Internet.




I am not perfect.

The End.


PS

"The Competition" - Kimya Dawson

I thank God that Eternity is real.

It is gonna be okay.

You are always good enough.

I'll talk to you later, friend.

65 hours of talking and text messaging

Everyone is worthless

Everything is God

And God is everything.

I'm a super muscle Hamster Penis Poople.


The Rhine is dark and reflective.

The flowing water is grape witches and time loosens the wild hills and valleys and creeks and streams and stones.

The German language students slept high up in the castle. The locals had veal for supper.

A 15 year old sad boi ate a small old apple and three little slices of cheddar cheese.

What a fantastic and realistic fantasy we live.

Reply to a Comment, "Meanwhile, in Syria..." on the Photography Series "Naked Faces" on Booooooom.com

What do you mean, please? I feel like you might be being mean, and that makes me uncomfortable. I feel guilty every day for being what I am, as people are suffering endlessly. I think there are many different ways to save the world, though. I just want to think of you as a person who adds good to the world. Thanks for reading my insecurity and anxiety. Hope you are well. I am allright, except for my problems that are obvious in this comment. I am a writer and maybe this is my forum of choice. Maybe this is some kind of performance or installation... Maybe I am just too confused and hopeless. I'm sorry if this turns out to be a huge waste of everyone's time. I love you. Good night. - Greg Wredberg

I am really fucked up.

I wonder how much of my own fault that is.

I saw on old guy walking outside.

I thought, I want to kill him.

Then I thought, No, I don't.

I thought about pushing him over, laughing at him and peeing on him.

Then I thought, I am really fucked up.

I imagined smashing the apartment and burning it down.

I imagined slitting my wrist.

I need to do good work. I need to keep busy.

I took a very nice short slow walk by the river this morning just after 11.

I kind of like being kind of an alcoholic.

I am having a mug of wine to relax myself.

That is all I am going to have until this evening.

I am going to UT to see World of Tomorrow by Don Hertzfeldt with Aaron in less than two hours.

I hope he offers to drive us...

I love making sense.

My thoughts are so shitty sometimes, it seems like nothing makes sense, but then I get better and everything gets better.

I am still listening to Jeffery Lewis Spotify radio.

" Remember they're more afraid of you than you are of them . " - "Advice on Bears" by Boats

I still love Boats so much. I listened to some of their Spotify radio early today, I think.

Lou Reed

music

poem

dogs

nothing

i

Can.

Blue balls bouncing on a paved street gave the young people ( 5 to 10 years old )

much joy unlimited and unequaled

Free Write, Journal, the first draft of this was written in pen on the backs of 2 pages that list items not to flush down toilets (:

9-18-2016 9:04 p.m.

I am standing at the kitchen counter in apartment 117
at 2048 Stassney Lane in Austin, Texas. I am drinking vodka
and Lemon Ginger carbonated water. It's okay. I like
feeling tipsy. I have plans for tomorrow, Monday.
I have been feeling bad and anxious and sad. I have
been wasting time in these rooms for a week.
Before that, I wasted most of my time at other places
and at my mom's house, my childhood home.

I have been watching and listening to KaysASMR
today, and she is so lovely and soothing.

I walked to Live Oak Market this evening.
It was a pleasant and rewarding walk. I'm glad
I have been writing. I want my writing to be
worth something to someone esle. I think I am
kind of anti-social. I am extremely passive and lazy,
like I think I have always been. I really want to help
people and myself Live wonderful Lives.

Next Page

So a large part of me is The Internet.
I do not understand. I want to understand.
Aaron often confuses me and makes me sad.
I read a few sentences of Music That Is Soundless
tonight. I barely understand it. I do no understand it.
I want to be quiet. I want to be correct.

I thought of sex and the meaning of life, while I
walked south on Manchaca towards Stassney.

The meaning of Life = Being God = Doing Good

Sex is nice. Making love is good. Making people is good.

Being responsible, Least Harmful, Most Helpful

I thought of my former Psychotherapist, Stacy Watkins. I like
her. I wonder if my plan to eat tacos with
Clarisa will become real... I wonder what we
might talk about ( taco 'bout...) I was REwatching
Good Mythical Morning Season 2 from 2012... Two human males named Rhett and Link. I was good and bad. ( eating. ) I watched
porn. I tried to give myself an Orgasm, but I failed. It hurt... in several ways.
I tried again, while watching Scottish Murmers ASMR'S cleavage on a nurse roleplay video on You Tube. I came.... So.... This is me. Later.......

Now it is 8:17 a.m. in Austin, Texas. 9-19-2016

I am listening, and have been listening to Jeffrey Lewis Spotify radio. Neutral Milk Hotel Devendra Banhart, Elliot Smith, Okkervil River.

I don't enjoy listening to Elliot Smith. A few weeks ago I read on Wikipedia that he stabbed himself in the chest after an argument with someone, who had locked herself in the bathroom. He died in the hospital.

I feel like a cliche when I enjoy Neutral Milk Hotel. That's okay. I do not want to judge anyone for enjoying anything. I wonder if there are good cliches. I feel bad for people who think they are better than someone based on what each person enjoys. I feel bad  for people who might not enjoy anything, at least most of the time....

That is nonsense.

I want to rake a garden and kill a snake.

Now I gotta get ready to drive and talk to Clarisa and eat a taco.

I love Jeff Lewis. Honestly, really.

I hope i do not rape or murder Clarisa. Why would I do that! Why would I think that! Is that true!

I hope for lots of things and events. I am not really afraid that I will do anything like that.

I Am afraid that I will do nothing, or flake out.

I am afraid that I will crash a car.

I am afraid that I will fall into the way of a car.

I am afraid that I will cry in front of someone.

I am afraid I will pee or poop before I get to a toilet or that someone will see me pee or poop.

I am afraid that someone will dislike me because of my appearance or my actions or my words.


Haha [: that is all true

Bye bye fo now, nigga. I love your fat balls. I love Gravy. Peace and Love and Grace to you, dear dear readear.
 deer, fawn. Doe. Doh. ok really. i am going to stop in a second. i hope to be back later today, in a few hours.

Later! - Greg Wredbeg

Sensory Embodied Experienced Experiment Through Words

Here lies a blood peach dominance
Christ pupa alleviation on Sky skin
400 feet above the Metro Park, blue and white
Throughout air trails stretched potential
Space what could be here in theory
connective tissue between daytime players
and ethereal planetary starshine
blank mind -- Green Losing
Waste in dark grey dark black deep
Matter floating pulling pushing orbiting
reacting, inertia, not existing -- Closing eyes
human face Perfect Caucasian Commercial
Success, Bleeding Rate, 1 day, 1 week
Babies, Cousins, Nieces, Brothers, 3 months,
1 year, 2 years, Mother, Grandmother
Never Father, Holy Nothing. Following
cars, shiny cars, silver dead cars, hot
steel, soft thick rubber tires, pounding
heavy angry sparkly asphalt, 5 years, No Home
Scarce Woods, Scary People, Sleep - Wake - 10 years
20 years...
gone.

Religious Alphabet

Actualize
Better
Christ
Dad
Eternity
Freedom
Grace
Heaven
Insight
Jesus
Kill
Love
Make
Now
Order
Persons
Question
Read
Spirit
Truth
Universe
Visit
Will
Xenophilia
Yes
Zen

The Way Out Songs in Order of My Preference

1. Group Autogenics 2

2. We Bought the Flood

3. All You Need Is a Wall

4. Group Autogenics 1

5. Thirty Incoming

6. Free Translator

7. Chain of Missing Links

8. The Story of Hip Hop

9. A Cold Freezin' Night

10. I Am Who I Am

11. Beautiful People

12. I Didn't Know That

Perfectly Mentally Healthy People

They are good to witness. They soothe and protect. To watch them do things is deeply satisfying and rewarding. I get better... because they are better than me and all the ones I can think.

She-la rides a bike to her office. It's a quaint bungalow, surrounded by squat palms and huge ferns and oaks. It's in a nice, quiet neighborhood. She is the first to get there this morning. Her three coworkers arrive within 20 minutes after her. Their names are Beck, Morgan, and Vern.

They do medical administration or some high class shit like that.

Ouside the air temperature is 79 degrees F. In the office it is 71.

Vern is 56 years old. Morgan is 32. Beck is 31. She-la is 29.

She has dark hair and dark eyes. I don't want to type her skin color.

Brown.

Except she is a white girl.

On a scale from 0 to 100, 100 being the most attracted to someone I can be, my attraction to She-la is probably about 75. It would be more, but I am intimidated by her perfect mental health. She seems too good for me.

Being fictional is very attractive.

Being me is an unrealistic advantage.

She wears dresses. Every color in her life is universally approved as visually pleasing.

Imagine a TV ad for anti-anxiety mediction.

Sometimes, when you need it, She-la lives in slow motion.

She smiles nicely.

Why give up?

A dreary Saturday

we drove into the jungle

we're looking for the tiger

the tiger ate all the children

we're gonna eat that tiger


Dancing with my betrothed at the wedding reception

my hand goes out of control

Slicing up the cake with my hand

slicing up the cake with a photograph autographed by my favorite band.

I hate feeling sick. I hate if I made myself sick. I love extremely healthy young dogs.
I love basted Magic and plastic cardboard and dreaming about really funny and even more beautiful people and places and foreign fake history events, facts, stories of words,

and finally I shat myself

out of myself

My little pony and

green cool forehead rabbit time loaves for clean Christmas Get A Way.

Wearable Parable

This Is a Real Cool Story

You prefer. Why would you do that? Can you use your mind? Can you control your body?

Money will not hurt anyone.
Money is not worth any of this.

When she was 18 years old, my 43rd cousin walked from her parents' house on the center of Texas, 10 years and 3 days ago. (A modest wooden house in the wood. Dad was a hard-working wood-worker. Mom grew their garden and kept their things in order. She had two older brothers and a younger sister. They had plenty of leisure time and few neighbors. She appreciated Nature. She Thought about God. She was curious. She grew Up, and she wanted to know more people and start a new family, to add and to count up to our family.) She walked to the Center of Los Angeles. (She most likely appears the color of the center of the Sun.) She saw people....

She made love to a man. They made two people. They slept and ate in an apartment on the cement of LA. The man did a common job; he fell on a building one day... he died.

Abzu (my 43rd cousin) sat for a long week. She fed Zapan and Naru (her kids). They left Apartment to look for More Food. Other People see them [(Who Cares?)?].
I dug a hole in the Dirt. Small
small. I like living. Continued to live well

I need Nothing.

I was just watching Lady Dynamite.

I don't like it right now.

It is ,eaningless.

And stupid.

I also watched Louie Ck live at the comedy store.

I dont like anything; its too much nothing.

i like little boys and little girls, doing nothing.

I like games and everytyhing is the same

i drank wine, i feel dopiejhwghjiopofhjdo

Let's facebook

Ima monster

Meaning, I am blundering, blazing like flying suns and atoms of Chaos.


LET'S stay up all night.

We have no jobs. We do not need to work.

Our Mothers make us money,

We buy all the food we want; We eat

We fall over

We burn bridges

We live into the Sky

Let's stay up all night.

We are Monsters, Meaning we are not Fully Humans

Let's Burn Bridges

Let's Eat all The Food We Want

We Do Not Have Jobs

We Do Not Have to Work

Our Mothers Make Us Money

Let's Live Into The Sky

Let's Stay Up All Night


Bahamas - Okay Alright I'm Alive



Whatever

My Name Is Gregory Wredberg

My Mother's Name Is BarBara Harris

I have A New Apartment

She Has a New House

Who Cares!

We All Care


OH!

Give that little kid his Peanut Butter wishes.

Oh, do not fall asleep there, He needs his little work lasso.... Need to die.

Black cat billie goat looking like toadstool women.
Kissing my mommas head; she ain't no cream pie fillin'.
Watch out for the man with two eyes on his engine.
Running in the forest fires, no wind under my wings.
Growing three rabbit toes: making myself a friend.
Cutting out the heart bone of the only one who sings.

Cute Poem to Pass Yourself

...
Ow... My body hurts.
I drank two Margaritas before 3 pm.
I woke up loopy doopy just after 5 pm. (Like a loser society.)
I am an office building that is 6 stories tall.
I'm watching The Intern starring Robert De Niro.
Anna Hathaway is a cute baby.
She tells me where to go in New York City.
She wrote me a poem to pass myself for 5 minutes.


I slept 12 hours. I know I need Big cheese Changes
for 12 year old daughters, Eat Steak Sandwiches
-
I read the doctors guidebook pamphlet.
I redirected shrimp boats into my left arteries.

Your stupid Brain Blood Coffin rockin'
Toasty Road Beds to North Africa
Suicide Mission for the Lord Jesus Christ -
I slept 16 men
in my basket
red thatch
I grew up
I ate her
red feelings
A bad Mickey Mouse
-
Crane construction on 6th Street
Arm Bone Crackin' almost 40 years old
Glass shatterin' 6 Solid People
-
Bodies riding meat trolleys.
Ocean savor death Pygmy
Riot, Bean Forest Roast.

... Finally,
I reached
for a nude painting,
her teary eyes,
bubbles gross triumph,
Fart doctor metaphysical
Seance Rhythm,
I thought we thought of our parents,
but 65 Million Land Bureau Grants
cannot prevent World Fires,
Dead Cows, Tried too hard,
Never did anything,
And never will do anything.

The pain made my vision split.
I read that Holy train took them,
Never bleeding a cellular prison,
Practically needed Two more
People leave forever,
The end.

Curse the far poor

Far, the poor curse

The poor far curse

Poor, the far curse

Par for the course.

Balconies and Births

The porches
Up stairs! we
Scream.
We fell out
Of her love.

The Best Story

We are two humans on a beach.
God is real.
They love us.
We are Them.
Let's make out.

Humans are animals,
connections, and stories.
Jesus Christ is the Best Story.

I wrote as fast and honestly as I could

8-13-2015 6:54 p.m. 321 Go

Free write, I been drinkin wine, all rite

                 Rites of practice, Blew a Hell Officer
I got 50 years in Secular Religious
Hate Fuck Sex I kill niggas for fun
I Love Amy I fuck her throat every
90 seconds I Love to kill babies
My life is a Feardom Boat of
Life Skin Failing Across a fuck
End the Ocean I want Salt in
Our overcoats Fear the time
I fear the Holy Divine Knowing
A Life of Hero Idols Fear
Home is Hell I hate Licking
your tite young Cunt Follow Me on
Sextube I want to Fall out of
a time w/ Love I can hear die

Why Are Women Generally So Superior to Me

I love you so much

All I can do is crumble

and cry.

I don't want to die.

My skin and my blood are like fires

late at night

on the dry dirt of the backyard

of the house where I supposedly

"grew up".

I cannot hear his voice or her voice.

I know that

I am made of Language.

For me, Language may as well be God.

My penis turned into a hot stone of blood, back into a wet baby sock, then into a bloody dagger of magma.

Being by myself in this house,

my thoughts turn into Absolute Shit.


Of course

All I need to do is Help Everyone.

I am responsible for the Well Being

of every single

God Damned Human

on this God Forsaken Planet

Death is permanent and constant.

I fucking break my neck.

I drink a Full Glass of Red Wine.

I could buy a gun in less than 30 minutes.


Please, do not look at me.

Please, get away from me.

Please, love me, like I am the Father

of your children,


I cooked chicken legs for the whole family

to eat. The skin is crispy and delicious, like

Italian Women in heat,

slurping deep brown syrup.

The Last Part:

"My Hell comes from inside

"comes from inside myself.

"Why fight this?"

"God is a Woman and my Mom she is a witch

"I ... like ...

this."

- Modest Mouse, Isaac Brock


Good bye

These People Are Similar

Sun Kil Moon

Car Seat Headrest

Jeffrey Lewis

Kevin Barnes

Kimya Dawson

Yoni Wolf

The Mountain Goats

Sufjan Stevens


They tell their stories in songs, or just say stuff about themselves to music.