No Julie Text

I burned down your house. I didn't want to see you speaking about sleeping without throat blood and nude love. Just don't want you to cry. Nice nights wearing liquid air, draped on cold steam, fluorescent shadow children run outside.

Bright Flashes at Once

Im happy when i kill. im sad when i die.
Happy when I kill, sad when I die.
Happy kill, sad die.

Youtube is the last place on Earth. Except for Earth itself of course. Earth is on course to be any other planet. We bring every other planet to Earth. Earth can go anywhere. Everywhere is on Earth. Zen The End

faceheart

I'm simply not helping. I'm simply hurting. My face heart hunts you.

It is 1:05 pm. First Day Off

I'm thinking about next month and the money I will have and the money I will pay. This month is better than 0over in my thoughts. It is Gunpowder day. V day. Cold warm day. Past sister birthday. A spot in the middle of my back to the left keeps going numb. It must related to posture. Pat had been telling my to stand up straight. The best was when he said I am going to need hunchback medicine. I have noticed hunched people at work. Two young male coworkers and some elderly shoppers. I am wearing the small tiger hoodie. I wonder if it is 80 or more outside. We need to go out today. I judge so much of myself and base so many of my decisions on what I think Aaron would say. He represents so much of what I know about spirituality, duty, and culture/transcendence. It is Tuesday. I suppose Tim will come home in about 7 hours and we will buy pizza rolls and eat them and watch TV. I hope Patrick and I go out to play today. I don't like my job, but I think I can do it. I cannot wrap my mind around all of the different items in our department and where they go. I cannot think ahead  or remember well enough to stack boxes efficiently and neatly. These words are bothersome. I need to go somewhere new. At least in my thoughts. I need to read Gravity's Rainbow. Or more How Best to Avoid Dying. We played Elder Sign about midnight and made some bad choices and lost. I ate more Krazy Kookie ice cream. I will want to eat more tonight, but I should stop myself. Who would I have sex with? No one. Until I know myself very well and then know that person (female) very well then we want to have a child, or feel like we need to, like it's the right thing to do. I cannot expect to be perfect. But I can always try to think of the best thing to do in every situation. Well maybe not, but that is out of my control. I may make a bad decision that leads me to not being able to assess my situation. Like if I let myself get kidnapped and drugged, something causes me to lose my mind.

Listening to Lowers Dens Twin-Hand Movement. Beautiful! Not the best. I have to stop just being myself, letting things make me, letting my life take control, and I have to take control of my life and make myself who I need to be. It's all about thinking ahead. Of course right now I just want to masturbate and eat ice cream but I want to be better in the future and those things are not helpful, so I won't do them. I need to do things now to help myself be who I want to be in the future. I do know that the future is real and it matters. Commas are tiresome. I am not alone. I am extremely noble and sarcastic. I am listening quietly and hoping to go home inside of myself and wait for more futures to rise and burn and fly joyfully. I have to know what is. I have to watch all the Khan Academy videos. I have to test myself. I have to think about actions I can take that will change the lame stuff of life into awesome sauce. John Green said purpose of life is Helping. Don't forget to be awesome. Thank you. dear, docter, save her from being eaten, i want to help

To Appreciate Crafters

Imagine reality. Imagine emptiness. Imagine an empty reality. No one makes anything. No one does anything, like we. We interact with existing parts. Sitting, reading, listening to Boards of Canada. Nothing new comes out of a static mind. Having an impact. I know what would be better. How do I do that. I'll start here. I'll get some help. I'll make a plan. I'll adapt the plan. I'll collaborate and make a difference. I'll make life worth living. I'll make meaning show itself in unexpected places. I'll make us all glad we're lucky enough to live and be ourselves. Have you seen/heard/felt/tasted/smelled this? It's so GOOD! I can't believe it, but I make myself believe.

Stuff Like This

Conflict of feeling a tickle in my penis and wanting to be perfect. I have a job. It is too far away in this traffic town. I will pay for my own rent. I may need more money for car repairs. I want to cut off my penis. Or just erase it or something. I want to swallow all the pretty girls in the world. I was pooping a little bit ago and my tummy was very strained with worrisome pain. I thought of how painful starving must be. I wonder if people in pain for a long time get used to it. In that New Yorker article, that Frenchman said, pain is always new to the sufferer. I am listening to Lou Reed's Transformer, because he is dead now. His voice is nice. If we have choices during life, do we have choices during death? Does it make sense that our afterlives are determined by our life choices? We are dead for much longer than we are alive. Do our options expand after death? Life choices seem quite limited. If we are not bound by life, if our souls are eternal, we should have many more options after death. Maybe I am thinking wishfully. I am afraid that my bad choices during life will define me eternally. I want things to get easier and better after death. I want my life choices not to matter. Then I cannot make bad choices and have nothing to fear, so this life will be easier. Easy is bad, maybe. Good is difficult. Good is the goal. Not really a goal, not an end. A constant process. Coffee burn. Taste smell blinding pain, Posture, Perfect Posture. I learn from Aaron and from everything. How to grasp God. How to see the good as worth all the bad and all the difficult. How to see the easy as not worth all the bad that comes later. How to realize that at this moment it is necessary to work toward better existing for eternity. Eternity is not a moment, not singular, but an endless flow of opportunities for perfection. As I stand here and now I can only prepare for eternity. I can only exist on the surface of eternity. Every moment is flowing into eternity. Every moment is saved in eternity. I am creating eternity, or I am adding to it. Nothing can be reversed, undone. I am responsible for the perfection of my contribution. I am always contributing no matter what. I have to be known, and I have to know. Perfect means done through, as in complete. If I waste time or do the wrong thing, then I am contributing emptiness. If I allow this to happen, if everyone does, then eternity will become hollow and all is for nothing. The purpose of being is to be perfect, to make eternity complete. I do not mean to say that without humans all is empty and has no purpose. But it is purely hypothetical, because humans or other sentient beings are inevitable. If humans die out, then we will have made part of eternity empty. Eternity can never be completely empty. Good is always possible. I guess I must agree that a universe that does not know itself is a lesser universe. Because beings able to know the universe will always come around, and if they ignore their wonder or kill themselves, then eternity is not getting closer to perfect, which is all it wants to do. It will never be perfect, but always getting better is better than being perfect. Eternity wants to be perfect because getting worse will only lead to nothingness, which is the worst. I cannot claim to know the perspective of eternity.

So Tim, Chelsea, and I might play Elder Sign tonight. I wonder if they"ll get food for me. I have to be the opposite of pain. I have to be a healer. There are many ways to heal. Heal physical pain, medically or through prevention, preventing hunger and food related disease. Heal mental pain, helping people to know what is it right and good. Help people to know themselves and the universe.

Stuff like this. Good-bye, my love.

AlaBlamo! Guerrillazz

NO idea

Kit, Pat, Tim, God

Christopher, Patrick, and Timothy are my brothers. Earth is my brother. Pluto is my cousin.

Where's Tim? When's Tim? What's Tim? Why's Tim? Tim tim chshhhhhhh, tim tim chsh-tim.

High-temperature jalepenos. Fire is never spicy.

14 gold outside. Streaming, revealing light from two directions.

bars
bane

Sun

They're incompetence somewhat relieves my penile servitude.

Everything is a choice. I choose Everything. Thend.

Baby Manish, Mr. Appropriate Child.

A squeamish Danish. A crunchy pork liver. Fired lied about dire died fled on Friday.

Dirk Smiley. Purest licorice scent.

Desperately playable non-committal parable sci-fi lukewarm belly flop assiduous deciduous prenatal prehensile doctorate porcupine qweeping slew parrot fellow barometric dime slice single file qwillow best friend.

Using My Brain

I am going to use this blog for Journals and Creative writing. The other one, maybe something, is just to track my diet.

I wanted to title this Using My Brain, because I want to use my brain, and the words showed up in my thoughts and I imagined typing them. I wanted to listen to Chain of Missing Links and I did, and I heard the line, The average person only uses about 5 percent of their brain. That's mean. The rest is available for food.

Crown on the Ground. It hurts. So loud and busy. Pat is at class. Tim may have gone to work. He spent last night with Chelsea at her sister's house.

I saw Aaron yesterday. So difficult to talk. I didn't try very much. I didn't try to think much. I tried not to cry a couple of times. I succeeded.

Supposedly this job at Sprouts will be good. I went there today to finalize things. I was so anxious before. I was afraid I might not go. My neck and shoulders suck so much at being in a relaxed position. Domino's right ear is weird. I feel bad for him. He seems pretty messed up. Aaron's cats died. It's pretty sad.

How to Winter. Success. Feeling Good. Less than ten episodes of The Chris Gethard Show left to watch. My hair is too long. I need my dreams. I need to type them out. Write Down; Type Out; Speak Up; Think About. Hm, that was pretty lame. I want to be a better person.

Why are things so sad after getting a job? The apartment is very weird lately. Pat is with Bridgett most of the time. Chelsea came over Friday night. After I left for Sprouts today, I thought about Tim dealing with Chelsea's son or just dealing with the emotional weight of that relationship, and I felt better about only having this job to think about. Coffee is messing up my teeth, or the sugar is. Dodger and Apprentice Eh.

I don't know where I'm going. So many troubling thoughts. So much fragility in our identities and our plans. If I see people as historical, futuristic, emotional, spiritual, and social as well as physical beings, then I have hope and respect for them, and I trust them.

It's so hard. I have to get better. I have to let myself get better. I have to open myself up. Cold War Kids, Hospital B

eds... Beauty, Truth, Peace and Love. Original. People. I am mindful. I am sexual. I am tasteful. I am approved. I am welcomed. I am acceptable. I am loved. I am happy. I am useful. I am affirmative. I am location. I am loquacious. I am Ambassador. I am Senile. I am Aquatic. I am weird. I am sociable. I am socialable. I am 967563029. Haha. I am the truth. I am Da Truf! I am the same. I am secondary. I am Adobe After Effects. I am Microsoft Paint. I am Blogger.com. I am a United States Senator. I am a Congresswoman. I am Juice Fast. I am a Winnebago. I am a Man. I am a salsa lobster. I am a Scenic Bueno Vista. I am talking head. I am a Smorgasbord. I am a Scientific Community of Intellectual Observers. Good Bye, Joe Namath. Bye bye, Mometh.

- Señor Pasta

So Okay

If you were a toilet, then I would definitely be you.
If I were the sky, then I would definitely rain on you.

A 90% chance of falling in love today.
A 25% chance of sucking at life all day!

Pieces of comets fill up my pockets.
Noodles for neckties. Poodles for porkpies.

A quick victory for a surprise supreme leader.
A solid instrument for installing brain enhancements.

Be gone. Bye bye. Buh Buhyeh. S'over.
I am perfect how I am. How am I? So okay.

Nearly Perfect

dandeaconmericadandeaconmericadaannddeeaacccoonnnnmmmerrriiicdcaaaa.

No nuclear bombs tonight. I don't know even where to find those. It's only 12 p.m. I am set up and ready to go, fall down, lay out, sprout up. Ear buds in my ears, life music in my brain. Growing inside me. Brown baby. Filled up with shit, blowed out my ass. Dying just in time for the moment I die, when I do, it'll be ready, at just that right exact time, the end, goodbye. And just right inside me in my mind I know what life will be after it's all over inside forever and never growing up and never going out and always being good and always having fun, and we high-five so loud something breaks and collapses, no conventional actual thing that could be called a thing, it is nothing, but so just described by words so that they know what I mean.

Washing, clean soap, natural, no additives or preservatives. Plastic bottle that will never be in a landfill. I can make a dust pan or a soil scooper, or just eat it and take years off of my life. It is eager to end, because I contain some much sought after chemicals. Rare and desirable. That is my life in a gun-shell.

Surprising to realize how much I don't know. Surprised that I can know how much I know and do not know. I am clear and phallic and surprisingly municipal. But of course we need metaphors, but are they even metaphors? Is there any better way that our current language can explain these tender subjects? We often need to invent new language to explain these ideas and images that seek us out then encode themselves in us and wait for us to seek them out and release them, bring them into existence. God does not exist. No doubt there is a God, but exist is not what God does. We exist for God. Whyever you may think you exist is one of the infinite reasons why God exists. Aaron did this to me. Or maybe not. We are just similar fields of energy in the constant fabric of reality.

Say what it is. Near perfection out in the field by the barn by the woods. Exactly in the field on the grass in the wet weather of the growing life in the simple order.

Nearly perfect.

All that you can ask.

good thoughts before sleep, non sexual dreams

I'm in a neighborhood with young kids riding bikes. there's a big house on a steep hill. the kids are mature. it's night. they's in a band. They have to go. I dunno. Billy Brag, night shows. Alphalpha dreams, hair sprouts. Mother 3 before bed. Asking me. I wish. Go outside, I don't want to change the world, but I shall, in the future, still to come, as has been planned, outside outer country rolling west falling north open breeze freezing sold blown spectral shimmering sky beacon light tiptoe lilac green grass breast chest press earth beat dirt sound pound rhythm birth echo beast malfegor presto beggin superlative lactate supreme nacho assinine break down adenine so far leadership cringing cripple nipple slip sinking ship, bakin brothers soda fat bread. Create great ape juice, sojourn soft ideal flat bed.

dreaq dream deam dream draem dream... dream

Books backs walls shelves no-one doom dank room brown wood tables winddows halls not the lozenges. [double d windows] you sick F. Games, franes. Planes. Boat mo cars. Shaq lighning bugs, cybil syllabull, buss, blunder blubber, ArTic of Course, Baby, Wine Nose. Not safe, practically. uNderstood. Boasted.
Hard to believe how many people are better than me. I happen to have a good night and a good morning. I have to make a habit of these and other things. Diana Rachel.

Things for Us

A position in the mountains leads to filled guts and hanging arm flaps. Childish grins stained with Coors and Miller Lite cans fill the pool halls. Neon beer signs, wood paneling, spit-speckled mirrors, clear, brisk nights, dusty, rough hands, snot rockets, piles of pennies on dashboards, oil stained asphalt parking lot, mud-encrusted brown steel-toed boots, and greasy, grey, thinning hair have nothing to do with the game I play in my thoughts. The final product is sticky, stinky old clothes strewn across a bedroom floor. I've got a single personality. Solitude is solipsism during my dark days, and I reach out through well-sheathed wires. I electrocute myself to find a way out of a bloody, pink hospital of chemicals and organs. Shock therapy is an alien spaceship falling far to crush my cellular shell. We play Mario Party 8 when we eat cheese, lights go out and white wine and no chores, no money to make, double sexy frog poster cafeteria popular rock star roast chicken sickle.

Lost it. No one name the second leader to come out of the tour between Harlem and Nostradamus.

Push the crate against the square hole in the wall, nothing has depth. No fits. M hand goes in a shoe. M glove goes on a tiny cactus. Green windowsill. Mister Industrial Benefactor Investor man interest bank account seven figures outset site prolonged nature factual adjustment realty produce factors indecision quality engineering virgin property potential oversight profit legal timeline value shift. Get that damn bulldozer running, clear cut, blast mine, crane rotate, work force, stacks on stocks, smoke on walls, on floors, on ceilings. Factory input expedite. Salary celery cheddar. Bread and loaves and love and careers and demolition. Fixing, broken, systems, parallel, Oktober, okay, waited too long. Surprise special neo-logic. Necessary economic retail, prices, places, distribution, waste, police, please, release, Octagon, plastic, foresight, neo-knowledge. Facilities, corrections, after effects, practicing for a future, inevitable, foreign ghosts, picturesque, life cycles, turn around, life in the cloud, situation, revealed, prosperity, nest egg, ill-advised, comatose, engrossed, feint, faint, fall, tumble, sink, flow, resurrect, beg, shoulder, allow, invisible lines, border, constructive, progressive. Some for some, more than anyone can respect.

Starts Bright, Stays Bright Battery Powered Fermata Light

kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill, a mantra fermata for as long as i feel hate. Blood spray hangs in the air, red glowing fermata of impossible physics. Slow slow slow moving thru space, infinity, my eyes are rodents suffocating from the penetrating endless universal fermata hum. Counting out and up numerous cells, equations for life, pencil scratching a tune, the length of paper, work time is a fun time fermata elongated at the discretion of the hollow teacher swallowing the after-school learner playing catch up.

Press up, press down, depress, pressure, along with, alone with, decidedly difficult, inanimately precious, thoughtful dangerous likable serious dead fiery. Intentionally friendly, breaking back study futile lifeless semicolon... Grace fluid sustainable incantation, brace finality, imperfect suppository, trust flexion, buoyant schism. Repetitive singularity. Angry peacekeeper. Subtle tiredness. Cranky postman. Cute sandwich cutter. Practice the kindness belief in human nature after one wakes up early sunny breakfast afraid of living for tomorrow, something happens that cannot be explained with our current vocabulary, I flew to New Guinea to learn the word for growth. I became a single atom, and I saw the entire universe and understood the difference between more and better and the difference between older and wiser.

Colony- trenching, trudging, mucking, manifest. Apostle- creating, appeasing, opposing, flesh. Purpose- blessing, conditioning, interesting, yes.

Pockets full of sticky pebbles. Nodes of damp clay dirt from Zilker playground. I wish I was a star. O no, I am. Goodnight, sun. I'll be you when we are one. I'll sacrifice my hopes, my taste, my feast, my crops, my language, my Christmas, my science, my breath, my Loony Toons, my carpets, my milk and cookies, my marriage, my happiness, my kids, my humanity, my ego, my trust, my clothes, my skies, my ground, my feet- for the realization of perfect order. Experience fantastic, lightlessness weightlessness, purity, innocence, unforeseeable, everlasting human transcendence.

Some thoughts to begin the middle of the day, in the middle of life. Back to reality, scum buckets. Scrape the barnacles off my soap boat on the ocean of worry and sick feelings, cathartic barf, bowel cleanse, gut reaction, responsible ache, satisfaction grumbles.

Free wreite

Popsicle. Music brain. Up on the radio. Open your gross place. uhhhhg, strait from the bubble of the yoyr mom, from huckle berry in the gay time with shuckles of guppies. This person is doing a hum. Little friend with your taste fart. Impatient. Kibbles. Lightning, homely forest your real dad forgot your toast bacon meddling human. No stopping hump the diet jump the ream of people unbutton the tata, greasy umbilical. Not the word sound like but the brain says to do it. I have lava in my butt. I love people with your name and face. Uptown i feel like a really happy grumpy pumpkin in the residue of meatloaf and forest tacos, laymen's give me your tits. Over the hills, I never seen that baby. I love killing apartments. I have moving drums, lung vision. Breathing comes quickly then quits. Blow up eye balls. Oh jelly nuggets. Fire on a train. Sheldone pooper/ kiss me you lovable crimp pansy, stains on the sheets, light lunch buddies, crease potatoes, license to stupid crap, stew in the breeze overpaid nice freak, soaker pose home sheman. Cries about a silver swerver nacho liver cremey sifilis. Grim SO, demon wheel book glover cleave land bummer secks darma

Pussy Whipped

(nastily) I got your pussy whipped.

(choir voice) I loved you, and your pussy wept.

(straightforwardly) I gotta tell you, I got your pussy wet!

Hi Mom

I'm a little too apologetic. My excuse for being who I am is that I cannot be anything else, and everything will be okay anyway.

My mom has the strength to birth me and the strength to bury me. She will die. She will die soon. I will die soon. I will say hi to her the day after I die from the sky. The sky will kill me, and I will live in the sky until the sky dies. The stars will bury the sky in space. Space will bury the stars in time. Time will bury itself in eternity.

I may enjoy creating a human with a female human. A child will see green leaves with green eyes. A black nurse will bury a blue baby between its dead parents beside a white hospital. I apologize in advance, because I do not want to do what anyone else wants me to do. I want to plant a tree in my belly button. A man in Russia had a tree in his lung, did he? I know I am helpless, because I want to save everyone from dying early but am quickly killing myself by living this way. Candy Corn Oreos are yummy. They are almost Birthday Cake. I used Mom's American Express credit card to buy Tim a Big Bang Theory T-shirt for his birthday. In one week, I am meeting a librarian at a library to be allowed to volunteer to shelve books. I hope my time fills up with good deeds and happy people. 

I've listened to three M83 songs just now, and now I'm listening to Dancing Mountains. The last thing I listened to was Neil Degrasse Tyson say the atoms in our bodies came from stars. He feels big. We are in the universe. The universe is in us.

I feel like a lame, crusty goat. Sleepy. Sweaty. Alone. Lost. Slow. Twitchy. Thirsty. 

I'm stepping along a misty mountainside, looking far away. It's quiet. It's the middle of the day. Nothing else is moving. I feel like laying down but also that there is something important to do but I can't think of what it is. I feel taller than anything. I think that if I zoomed out all I could see is myself. 

Oblivion soundtrack. I haven't seen it. All I need to do is correct every mistake I come across.

Proof! Boom! Phizzzz....

I was free on top of the pile

You will see, and your eyes will smile

You're not me; won't you stay awhile