A Gift to Our Generous Supporters

Dear Sufferer,

Only what you make will give you a peace.

A round full word, a whole community

Promise to practice your part.

Give me time, give me space

I will make an invisible circular organism.

Don't leave me alone with my made-up responsibility.

I have a plan written on my writing path.

Collect calls 'cross country, living

Reimagine X-ray scanners research

Poor health insurance scammer, recently fired from 

retail, sleeps on sofa in brother-in-law's basement.

Soothe the nerve pain of millions

of retired Satellite subscribers.

Enter 4 digit code on back of Outback to survive,

because you're a mother, a wife, a child, a life.

Facebook first draft

 Hi, y'all. Hope yore 'avin' ay G'day. Peace Out Famebook! I should follow through with some better ideas, but paradoxes exist: i want to do better, but better is more difficult and more rare. If everything were better, there would be nothing to do and no way to exist.

Southern Justice (This Reminds Me of The End of the Tour and DFW's TV Addiction and His Thoughts on Entertainment Technology and the Future.)

I've just been watching Southern Justice on TV. My heart beat faster. I felt like crying. I felt like I was taking part in an uncertain, dangerous situation. I'm glad I am watching that show. I don't want to stop.

It's funny, [: Blaha!... I just saw an ad for a new episode of Southern Justice that airs tonight. I shed two tears. My nose is runny.

Why is this me?

Also, right before this commercial break, the cops on the show got a call about a guy threatening suicide... so...


I feel like I am crying

.......

oh my god ......................


can you hear very quiet screams too? ...



I am so alone. And so beautiful: I feel so beautifully, so perfectly...


I am happy. I am content.

I am crying more.



The young man on Southern Justice.


The cops found him in the basement. Alone in a house. Like me right now (except the dogs, I guess.)


There were cans of beer. I think he was drunk. The cops told him that they were there because his mom was worried about him.

-- He walked away from them. He faced a wall and began to cry. He had cut his arms. They took him in for protective custody. They said they were just there to help him. One cop said it was a dangerous situation, but "luckily, he just cut himself." I laughed out loud. I stood up. I began to cry. I felt strange emotions. I was so grateful for these people on the show and the people who made it and broadcasted it, and other people like them. Who do some kind of artful reporting. Some kind of meaningful entertainment. Honest and kind observers. Humans trying to live, trying to do well. I am proud of these people. I am proud to be a person. I am capable of something. I plan to try to do a few things. --

... We are special people ... ...  I just don't know. Days and nights. Star and electricity. Cars and houses. My eyes. My hands. My brain.

Umbilical.

Nikki Rader... again. I am god again. I eat tacos... again. I cum inside her... maybe... I guess that I still do not know.

Why.

I am a puppy. I want to drink a cup of milk. A bowl of fresh cool milk. I am Neutral Milk. I cum rain bbuckets. I am The Rain. I love myself. I love pretty girls. I love good cops. I love TV and all of my senses.

I have senses that I am not even aware of yet.


I believe that I am eternal.


I believe in God. God wipes my baby.


I feel weird.


I ate shit pizza rolls. I am Shit.

Two prepubescent white boys spent the night in a cheap motel with their father. The Deep South. The late 1990s.


I never want to die. I want to feel good. I suk.


My best friends are: God. James Joyce. My penis. Hell. A fat guy alone on a queen bed in a small house: he is about to die. He killed his heart. McDonald's ate his life. He was born a baby. His parents were half-conscious.


This will be a beautiful work of art.


If I can still be alive.

No, I mean really alive.

I mean fully concious.

We drive to the Alamo draft house.



Gee, wheeze... ... How can I explain this to you?


How do I explain myself?

What do I have

to say for myself?


Please send me a letter.


Please make me answer your phone call.


Please make me clean myself.


Please.

I want to do things that make my body better.


I want to conquer Mount Olympus.


I must keep going.


I cannot feel myself.


Let me ask why again.


You are the reader. You are also God.


This is my purpose and my meaning.


I cut down the unsafe tree. He was a middle-aged oak. He spoke to an electrician.


I must exit myself for now.


The End


[ ;


P.S.
I am listening to The Hill by Marketa Irglova. Yesterday Mom and I watched the last good while of Once on TV.

I broke down

I build myself up

The The End

The Pigeon-Hole Tree

"Give me your money," said the cash registrar. Heraldo smirked, cuz he didn't want to give any money. He moved to the exit of the cafe and told Cash, "Nooooooooh!" Cash wound up its fist hole and yelled at Heraldo, "Don't stop your fly feet on my damn pet carpet!" But, Heraldo Rivers already slunk away under the hot Mississippi clouds. The blue river fell sideways into the full pool of Mexico. "I just said, 'You are God.' Why are you still talking?" posed Heraldo to the pigeon-hole tree.
           Last Saturday, 6 A.M. -
Mary's breath was like a litening storm, but I dunno how. She pushed Heraldo onto the bed like a whirl of a girl, who's 4 globes short of a world, where birds don't live past 9. "Mary told Heraldo about the pigeon-hole tree," said Aly to the yellow cafe bottom.
           Lost Saturday A.B.C.
Gim flew in from Haiti at 5:35. He sat at the terminal and ordered fish and wine. He ate and drank and thot of flys and dates (the time things, not the fruits.) An older woman, 40 years old, sat at the entrance by the restrooms and played the flute. She sounded like 5,000 butterflies dancing at Earth's funeral, becuz Jupiter tried to park his Saturn at her doorstep.

Marjorie Osterich is 42 years and 3 months old. It is March 18th 1998. She keeps her house clean. She collects coupons and shops almost every day. She's been married for 19 years, 8 months and 2 days. Her husband's name is Roland Dougherty. They live in Des Moines, Iowa. She has dusty hay hair and strawberry-buttermilk skin.

5 Alive

Kay Brautlowe, the giant black head orange beak woman
with wavering passion and electrical craving.

SpaldingGreg // LostOcean EternallyAlone
SufferingKneecap SharpBone // ReadyToLeave

Write. Things go and went inside me thru me.
The 5 people are still breathing.
My teeth cling for life to my gums.
Seeds are lost in packets in cold stores,
dark mountain dug out by bulldozers,
washed out to sea.
A fat plankton, a fat jellyfish, explode
like a fat old star. I knew enough to die.
No more babies, eat spiders, eat eyes.
Cannot sleep, cannot wake
Have another thought from that other person.
Fly across a continent.
Land on another continent. Round trip.
11 year-old Jacob Carson. 4-week carcinogen.

all true stuff that helps us understand and feel better more often

My mother thought it might rain today. It was cloudy earlier but now it is sunny. I want to go outside and I will. Mom said she might come home early today. I took a nap. I listened to ASMR. I watched porn and masturbated. I watched and listened to Better Caul Sall commentary.

I ate a bunch of junk. I felt bad weird anxious sad. I saw a missed call on my phone. I am afraid that Anna called me. The number has the same first 3 numbers as my number. 779. I am afraid to call the number back. I am afraid to talk to Anna, or anyone, or see anyone. I wonder what I'll eat for dinner. I want to watch a really good movie. I have had The Tale of Princess Kaguya for many months. I want to watch that this week.

Aaron and I talked about moving to Canada. He to Toronto and I to Vancouver. I want to send some emails to WWOOF hosts near Vancouver. I want to leave in July.

I just googled "WWOOF vancouver" and was reading a website about Blue Jay Lake Farm. Parts of it make me cry and laugh, because I get so excited and happy when I imagine living and working there as a part of my life.

I like the name of the organization SOIL, Stewards of Irreplaceable Land.

I imagine being on a farm, thinking about interacting with nice people, thinking about what to do next and how best to do it, and wanting to cry, because it does not seem real and seems too much for me.


That is why I keep giving up and wanting to do nothing.


I am signing up for WWOOF Canada membership now.


Our food becomes our bodies.


we become aware of ourselves and everyone and the future.

H a b i t s

I am not doing well


I keep going back to porn.


I keep thinking about masturbating and coming.


I keep fantasizing about getting a blowjob from a girl I know or a prostitute.


I keep going back to ASMR.


I keep eating bad food.


I keep wasting time.


I keep being lazy.

I keep giving up.

I keep not caring.


I like Yvette ASMR. She is calm and relaxing.


I don't want to try to talk to Anna today.


I drank too much alcohol today.


I don't want to buy wine for Aaron today. Also I do not want to disappoint him.


I started designing a table top role playing game yesterday. It's kind of fun to make stuff up and try to figure out how it could work. I like the ideas I put down and the map I drew.


I want to go out today. I slept quite a bit. I masturbated twice to porn today. I spent a while yesterday lying in bed watching porn on my phone.


I want to take the recycling to the school's bins.


Aaron is coming over in an hour and a half.


I guess I will go to Spec's after I take the recycling.


I thought about doing laundry. I don't want to. I don't care enough to do it.


I watched and listened to some commentaries on Better Caul Sall season 1. Also watched some making of shhtuff.

I want to see Anna and find out if I gave her my correct number and if she wants to set a time and place to talk and spend more time together. I want to get her number and email.

I thought that it is possible that she is slutty and wants to blow me and have sex a lot. I was disappointed and excited by that. I wondered if she might be forceful and how I would react.


The last few talks with Aaron, when he was buzzed on wine, have often been even more uncomfortable and exhausting for me than other talks with him. They have been exciting also.

I found myself disliking how he talked after drinking a few glasses of wine.

I am still put off by other people's self-confidence. I think my self-confidence is still low. I don't trust anyone. I don't believe anything. I don't know anything other than my thoughts.

I think, "This keyboard feels smooth. My hands feel uncomfortable. My past went fast and was mostly empty. I do not think there is a past or future. My leg is sore. I want to fall asleep and have a beautiful long dream and wake up and remember it all and feel energetic and pain-free and strong and smart and fast and beautiful."


The End, Baby.


P.S. I am going to cry. It feels right. I am going to explore and claim myself. I can carry you. I am going to die. I exist beyond time. I am playing in your hair follicles. You are wiggling like a pig. I am throwing you into battle on a distant crazy planet.

Good Bye

God be with you and me. Let us be God. Let us know all.


P.P.P.S. I keep popping my neck or trying to. I put my hand on my chin and twist my neck. It's frustrating when it doesn't pop. It's frustrating when I remember I did not want to do it anymore and I did not stop myself because I was somehow unable or unwilling to think or remember. I want to put wristbands on my wrists to remind myself not to try to pop my neck. Maybe they can remind me not to do any of of my bad habits with my hands. I should not touch my face. Maybe my skin would get clearer.

In middle school, after school, I hung out with a guy who had weights on his wrists, because they helped him not pull out his hair.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

eggnog dreams
first-born laser beams

MY
life just reached another peaK:

unknown bliss shrieksssSSS
KRIT KRATZ Y TIK KOK

I
feel better when I'm drunk.

MY
dick gurgles amniotic
succulent trashheaps

My sentient swollen feet massage cold floor tiles

hurt harder hate unbarrass Unborn Mass

Dan Harmon's Book Deal Video Game Crisis Suicide

Mia Wasikowska's Sexy Facial Burn Scars
Agatha Weiss's Schizophrenic Bloody Murder Incest

Movie Run Time Beautiful Film Time
Evening Time Gone Time Mom Time

Angry
Scrape Heat Rape Heart Test Crazed Kiss KKKRRRSSSHHHFFFFKKKKTTTTT

fucked
him
her
me
i

Solo

Once

Over

Done

Old

Hat

Scat
biddy boop scoop hoop bloop hop doo dop wop bop shibby wim wam kooka skim skam toop woop bodda loop

The Holes

"Imagine others complexly." - John Michael Green

There's holes in my plans.
Flaws in my skin.

There's flaws in my hopes.
Holes in my body.

Genes, neurons, social tension,
rubs, looks, hunger, fatigue.

Out a window, I see a huge strange black man
walking away from the library.

He used a computer, printer, and money.
He wears suspenders. His huge pants are baggy.

Out the same window, I see a curvy brown woman
talking on a stranger's cell phone outside the library.

I don't want to use her.
She is much fuller than her full figure.

I'll always be too fallible.
So will everyone else.

I want another chance,
so I'll give everyone chances.

I think insanity is the inability to tell apart the Past, Present, and Future.

[ Or Sanity is the Ability... McShane - "SensAbility." ]

Who gives a fuck

about an Oxford comma?

Also, it is sane when a human being recognizes that we, our souls, are each separate and whole, and divinely connected.

[ Or we are each meant to be whole, but each of us must constantly work at being whole using all the power and will within each of us. ]

Wardrobe Malfunction Video: May God Have Mercy on Us

Wastes of Time, I am a single cell organism

I am a Single Orgasm

I am eligible, singular

Opposite of an Orphan


Mom became an orphan in the middle

of the first decade of the 21st century AD,

when her dad died of cancer. I think it was liver.

He was an alcoholic male-chauvinist jerk.


Willa died when my mom was 15.

It was Suicide.


In the Garage

An Illness

A Disability of Man


Try Not to Give Up

Too easy


Do not take my Word for it.

The Things I Thought about the Most

Words.
I am printed in The New Yorker.
I am on the website www.poetryfoundation.org.
Every body talks about me.
My lines.

My spaces.

My restraint.
My indulgence.
I have entered the minds of every living soul.
They are all afraid of me.
You are afraid.
You do not Want to be reading this.
Buttt...
I am your Lord and Saviour.

...
I am a liar.
I have controlled you and deceived you,
for you know that I am
A God damned human being,
Nothing more.

You see me.
I look like a weird lonely guy.
You hear me.
I make almost no sound,
for I am afraid to. And too.
You smell me.
I have not showered in over 5 days,
but I applied an Ocean Spray deodorant stick.
You feel me.
I should lose some fat,
but you don't care,
for everyone is fat.
Skin is electric,
so please, do not forget that.

Here is the good part with relatable imagery:

The dogs wake up at 6:02 a.m.
It'll be dark
for another 30 minutes.
Mom turns on the TV
before light.

I force myself out
of unconsciousness.

Mom wears a ragged white robe.
When she moves,
she has to tug at the top
to keep it closed.

We talk about sleep,
Sometimes Dreams.

We watch the local News.
Gilmore Girls
Always come to save us.

As Days begin
again, my toes get longer,
my hair gets wetter and cooler,
my Mom
keeps
getting
Older.

My youth has been surpassed.

I think of
death
so often
that darkness,
Clarity,
Senses of fluid, muddy inner flames,
greasy spinal Labia,
are what to do
with my life.

I'm O.K.A.Y.
Occidental
Kaleidoscopic
Anal
Yokel

Starz seem obsessed with recorded fake sex.

I am face to face
with a Fucking xxxxxx (Infinite Brick Wall)

--
As I am typing this "poem"
My Mom just went to bed,
I heard her say something
to herself.
I thought I heard,
"He's too intense."

It is about me.
--

The color Red melts and refines my existence.
I live inside those Girls Online,
Pleasure-obsessed, Speaker and screen addict.

I will meet with a Holy Woman.
We are out at the Springs.
Water cleanses our Sins.

We always go back home.
Clarisa "lives" "in" a cute purple place.
I live black below the depths of everyday thoughts.

I cannot give you an answer.
I feel sorry for every human
Alive.

I know some mistakes I have made.

You will forgive me.

The end of that is.

It's Called a Cross Wind, and It Makes You're Hot Body Even Cooler

"Upside Down Question Mark"

I am talking to you,
You hot young Girl,
with whom I had
Hot Mouth Intercourse.

On your bed in the apartment
You shared with your friend
and your father.
I also hate everything.

I can and do imagine Nothing.
I have lived about 1,496,105,022 lives.
You will come back to me.
You are afraid of what you have missed.

This is Number Four
I am Care; I want More
Kim is a Cool Dood
Love is Evil and Rude

"Question." Declaration.

Beggar

It is funny that "language" is a hard word for me to type.


I just watched Flying Anne for the 2nd time.

I was not paying full attention (She still deeply affected me and my body.

We immediately fall in love with her, because her face is so lovely.);

I was on Facebook, looking at Maybe Saylor/Andrea Gaylor, lamenting, and reading a bit of A Man without a Country.


I am listening to Frank Zappa. He is Aaron's favourite music.


Equal Parts Nothing and Nothingless


I do not much enjoy lyricless music, or highly cerebral shit.


Haha! "We're Turning Again"

What a Song


Zappa was disgusted by so many people. As well he should have been.


Aaron is too. He is hateful. Or maybe Wrathful is a better word. {: Haha, but no one is closer to the Loving Merciful God, Jesus Christ, Holy Ghost.


I know that I believe in Something.

I really like the stories about Jesus Christ.


Mom should be Home soon... home on the Promised Land. Paradise. The Eternal Reward.


MY name is Nikkin and Ranisha.

I eat green forest breaskfests and Coffee Lightning Brain Juice

The End

Love, Greg Wredbegr

Night Star or Air Plane?

Subtitle: Tell Me I Write Prettily. Don't Cage the Elephant.


Barbara Gail Harris (nee Milner) and her fourth and last --- (barring any unforeseen miracles of science or divinity) (I want to see My Name Is Doris.) (I want to walk around a big city and be friendly to strangers on the street but not get in their ways too much. I want to see Ex Machina (film) again! Vikander is Hot.) --- son, Gregory Douglas Wredberg take a walk in their neighborhood. They live at 139 Michele Drive in Bastrop, Texas, United States of America.

The Worst Insult

The worst insult i can think of is

You are the stupidest, smallest-minded, weakest, most worthless and hypocritical Girl

Cunt-Holio

This blog, my blog, is insane in more than 1 way.

It makes me more insane.

I need to be more careful.

I need to get out of this house and do something.

I need to stop thinking too much about the wrong things.


I need to stop just telling myself what I need to do.


I actually rreally need to do something.

Something smart and creative and helpful.


I am afraid.

I do not know anything.




..... I need help. Haha [:  

Thinking is really hard.

Life is hard.


I want to know my purpose.

I want to know what is more true than anything else.



I want to know how the Cosmos came to be..











Yep.

That is all.

The end

I am going back into the soft warm mouth of Bob Odenkirk now.

See ya later, cunt-holio. [ :

My Life and I, as of This Morning, Alone and Happy

a space

a paragraph

double space



Someone, someone, someone, take me to you.

I want; I want; I want to feel you now.



I sang a good song when I was pooping this morning, but I do not remember it now.

How much do you love my whiny voice?

I'm a cat and I'm on fire.



I have more to say

I have more letters to type


I am a pyromaniac who thinks of death 1000 times a day



None of this really means anything


I want to mean something



Okay, I can be real: I want to actually sleep with Maria Bamford. I want to hear her sing to me. I want to hear her thoughts.

I want to walk hand in hand through the park... Fisherman's Park to start, then Zilker and the hike and bike trail on Lady Bird Lake... a great, beautiful name for a lake or anything else, such as Hank Hill's dog. I want to suck and fuck Hank Hill as an actual corporeal human person.

I want to die.

I want Adam Green.

I want my life.

A Cross Tick, GREGORY DOUGLAS WREDBERG

Grueling

Rigorous

Elocuting

Green

Ornate

Reality

YnsanitY


Death

Outliving

Ugly

Gross

Loving

Abstract

Science


Wonky

Raging

Eating

Dubious

Bold

Eagle

Ruminating

Greg