Well, I am going on a mission...

... going to the Interzone, so to speak... Tangiers, Algiers, somewheres in north Africa where expatriots go to do things... Hell, just read the book... william S Burroughs, Interzone... based loosely on Naked Lunch... No need to go into the whole seedy details involving things and other things and the people I would be doing those things with/to... I will be filing reports, much in the style of Burroughs (I would like to think)... but won't be doing it here... I am moving... destination unknown (to you)... may occasionally throw something up here... but it will be very random and in-between...
***
Originally I had over 1000 words to randomly explain things in a rather confusing manner...
I am not going to put all them words up here... but I will, at least, include a little something something...
***
Now, if you were to tell me the sky was blue... So, you say...
"Dude, the sky is blue"...
There are a few different responses you could get from me.
1) I could agree with you although I may not have been listening
2) I could agree with you because I don't want to talk to you and agreeing with you is the shortest route to shutting you up.
3) I could agree with you because it would take to much effort to debate the statement
4) I could disagree with you just because I hate you
5) I could disagree with you because how do I know that what I see as blue is the same thing as what YOU see as blue, and how do we really know that the color you and I are seeing, in our own special way, is really blue and not some other color that we are just associating with blue, like it is really green but we somehow learned our colors wrong or something...
6) I may just stare at you because I am not sure what you really want from me, tellin' me the sky is blue, WTf...
7) I may smile and nod or frown and nod as I try to determine if this is a good thing or a bad thing, the sky being blue and all... maybe you are being all emo on me and mean blue like the sky is sad because life is so sucky...
8) I may agree and disagree at the same time because it is mostly blue, but different colors here and there, and maybe dark grey in the distance like there is some rain coming in...
Now, all these responses are not limited to one at a time, eh... I may combine a few of them at the same time...

Cúchulainn, son of the great god Lugh of the Long Hand...

How many days do I need to go on about being tired? Apparently 1 more, at least. I slept like a log last night, a stealthy ninja log. You know, knees slightly bent, one eye closed, the other all squinty like, testicles hanging loose and free, one hand in a fist, the other covering my heart (to block any precision attacks)... Woke up this morning, leaping through the air towards the alarm. I am a finely tuned machine, you dig, cat like reflexes. I realized what I was doing just as I was reaching the alarm so just gave it a playful karate chop to turn it off... No need to destroy it...
But yeah, tired... really, only mentioned the above to work testicles into the conversation again. Heh, that's twice, eh... heh, 2 balls... HA!!!
**
Duffel bag dude on the bus seems to have disappeared. Strange how people that annoy me suddenly vanish... hmmnn...
so there was a void for perhaps a day, maybe two. Now that void has been filled. I am going to call her... Fanny Pack Lady. Although it is a complete misnomer...
I didn't quite notice her completely the other day, just from the waist up, she was wearing some camo pants and all I could see was this floating torso (she blended in with the background so well, you get the picture)... so this floating torso, it was orange and purple... it was confusing... the bottom half blended in so well and the top half stuck out soooo much... so anyhow, she had a backpack, and a fanny pack, and another fanny pack, and another fanny pack... 3 total... but they weren't really near her fanny (she is not the type of gal I would say has a fanny)... they were kinda hung here and there, kinda like goat stomachs filled with water and hung off a camels hump... very much like that... I swear that 2 of them were hung vertical?!?!? kinda up and down, not side to side...
Oh, she had headphones on and was making noise like she agreed or something... loud though... like she couldn't hear herself over the sound in the headset so she had to agree real loud like...
Oh, and she had a snaggletooth... the kind of snaggle tooth that makes you kinda duck when you see it because it looks like it is going to shoot out of their mouth like a, uh, flying tooth or spear or some other object that would poke you in the eye, but is really gross, not like a spear dipped in poison but more like a dirty snaggletooth...
So, really, fanny packs are the devil, and if you somehow find the need for 3 fanny packs, well, you are an idiot. Sorry, sorry, I hate to make such strong judgements like that, but it needed to be said. If you have enough stuff to carry with you that you need 3 fanny packs to carry it, well, dammit, don't use 3 fanny packs. 2 fanny packs? No. Not even 1. I can think of maybe 1 reason why anybody would need a fanny pack, and most of those involve nudist colonies... whole colonies of nude people... Dammit, throw the shit in a grocery bag or something...
Anyhow, she has these multiple fanny packs hanging off of her, a back pack, snaggle tooth, poor posture, a mustache, uhh... lumps...
She just kinda throws herself into these random sitting postures... it is amazing... like a big bag of turds kinda pickin' itself up and then tossing itself back down... exactly like that...
It was amazing today, the sausage was in his usual seat, and snaggletooth was sitting across the aisle from him... there was like this force field of ugg... or was it oog... and they both talked... there was this traffic, some sort of accident, and for some reason snaggletooth had to tell everyone 3 or 4 times that there was a bad accident and other random crap and the sausage made sound effects of cars hitting each other and I swear at one point he said "bombs away" and a whistling sound to go with it... I realized at that point that I was either not retarded at all myself, or was completely retarded and just happened to be on the short bus...
**
Dude... the devil child that lives next door... she is seriously evil and completely mental and perhaps even part something else, something completely mental and evil but not easily defined... She is not quite the daughter of the devil, more like the result of a union between a lesser demon and a frog... or a lettuce leaf... yes, like a evil lettuce leaf... It is going to be a long summer if she keeps showing up on my porch... No matter what she sees in our house she wants... she was all complaining about smelling something weird (yeah, like our house could EVER possibley smell worse than THEIR house) and so one of the girls told her it was pizza she was all like, oh, I want some, I want some, I want some... I told her to leave...
Then there was something so very similar to that, basically they had something and she wanted it too... or she wanted them to give her something, I don't know, it goes on and on... and we could argue for days on this, if you really wanted, but in a nutshell I believe she is evil, I don't like her, she makes my skin crawl when she comes by and I will spend the entire summer telling her to go away/get off my porch/get out/no you can't have any/stop asking to see my daughters underwear/turn off the water/and generally go to hell... she is not evil like a vampire or demon, she is evil like a storm cloud or pond scum...
I have strong feelings about this...
**
You know what would be cool? If hail, like the stuff that comes out of the sky, was magical or something, didn't just come from atmospheric conditions and the like, but could appear anywhere... just out of the blue. Like you are sitting in the crapper and suddenly you start getting pelted by hail... or watching a basketball game and all of a sudden all this hail starts and they have to stop the game until it is over and then squeegie the court... and instead of being a bad thing you would be all like, Yeah!!! Hail, allright!!! and start hi-fivin' each other and shit... and it could be in many colors, like a big homo rainbow, but it would be hail... homo hail...
***
Listen to:
Kix: Blow my Fuse
The Decemberists: The Tain (all of it)(not The Taint, that is a completely different song)
Morrisey: Live at Earls Court

and since you have internet access check this out:

ART
Random Identity Generator

ch-chickity checkin' himself...

Somehow I made it through the day yesterday without killing, maiming or otherwise fuckin' someone up. Just barely, though... Like last night, after ninja training, I went to the new Korean super grocery store (the H Mart) for some supplies, right... Got 2 cases of Bowl noodle, some kimchi (good for the wang), 2 bags of onion/garlic chip thingies (good for the thingie), a Heineken (good for the heinie) and some chili garlic sauce stuff... Came this close (finger and thumb about this far apart) to bein' t-boned by this group of Japanese dudes in a Honda... Resisted making snide remarks about being asian and poor drivers and ain't that typical. Got in the store and about had to pile drive this ancient lady that parked her walker in the middle of the aisle in such a way that noone could go around her, while she walked over to look as some stuff that I didn't know what it was... But I respect my elders for the most part and I could sense that she knew the touch of death herself so didn't want to risk it... There was a japanese girl with big boobs, but that is not really relevant... Uh, oh, yeah, this other gal, looked like she had some money and expected to be treated better than the rest of us, or at least, she sucked, something like that... she tried to cut in front of me and about 5 other people in the checkout. I grunted at her and stuck out my thumb and made "get your ass to the back of the line" motions at her... she was disgruntled... she disappeared...
Suddenly, I saw these 2 H Mart employess come sprinting up the front of the store, like Bo and Luke jumpin' into the General Lee they catapulted themselves into a couple fresh checkstands... I was confused for a moment, well, not confused, lets say I was being cautious, didn't want to kill any of the civilians by moving in a rash manner... so, yeah... out of the corner of my eye I saw this blur come flying by me... Fist of fury, red flame, powered up, cowboy eyes, legs slightly bent, testicles up tight, ready...
I held back, I held back... I remembered my training and I held back... it was the gal with the attitude... She must have been greased up the way she moved through the crowd... someone she pushed through something like 20 people, and got to the checkstand first. Since I was already charged up I was right behind her... I could tell she sensed how close to death she had just come, she was shaking a little bit so I exagerated my movements as I placed my food on the belt... She had trouble getting the fuck out of the way (move it, dammit) and was still at the end of the checkstand when I got all paid up... I looked all squinty eyed at her as I moved past her and I think she pee'd a little...
You know what it is like, being all pumped up like that, all jazzed, charged... and then be denied? Man, I got it all pent up inside. It hurts a bit, more like a dull throb, you know what I mean? Sore and tight... nothing worse than a false start... need to do something about it, something to, uh, "release" the pressure... hmmnn...
**
OK, I am pretty sure the sausage is up to some sort of hijinks. You know how I mentioned that he gets up like 10 miles before his stop and stands right in front of me? Remember that? So, usually I am farther back on the bus, at the end of the bench seats, dig... So today I sat directly behind the driver, much closer to the door. So usually the sausage stands back a ways, but today, since I was up closer, suddenly he is right up on me again. I was all like WTF...
If he does it tomorrow, so help me, I am gonna kick him in the shin so hard it cracks the bone and he falls on his face... Or, better yet, I am gonna knuckle punch him in the ass, give him one nasty charlie horse and big bruise so for the next week, anytime he sits or does anything else with his ass, he will remember.
**
Hey, OK, so I will keep this on the downlow (opps, not supposed to say that) but I wanted to tell you about a little somethin' somethin'... you may think it is a little weird, but trust me on this...
Tomorrow morning, after you get out of the shower, and you need to take a big crap, right... well, before you sit down, grab yourself a couple q-tips... so, yeah, while you are poopin' stick one of them q-tips in your ear and clean it out... you will be amazed... it is.. uh, very interesting, sensation wise... try it... I suppose, if you wanted to, you could just stick a couple in your pocket and when you get to work and have a couple cups of coffee and find that secret bathroom that doesn't get much traffic you could do it there... Dude, yeah, crappin' at work and cleaning out your ears... classic...
**
Even a ninja gets tired... Vikings, yeah, they get tired too... Ninja Vikings, like me, we can go and go (if you know what I mean), but goddamn, double damn damn, I am ready to drop... must make it through week, life passing me by, rest is for pussies... I was so tired yesterday I was talking to my shirt... serious, when I was getting dressed and looking through my closet I was all like, yeah, I will wear stripey, hello stripey... Luckily the shirt did not talk back, eh... today, the eyes, they are all heavy and scratchy... head is heavy... stuff and things and creativity is shot... they say (and I have said many times) that sleep deprivation is like being legally drunk or something... something about being at some percent of the legal limit or some crap like that (the source of this information is a complete dipshit and I should assume that he was flat out wrong again). If this is true than I am on a bender... I am the Charles Bukowski of tired. The Hunter S. Thompson of sleepy. The drunken brother of the sand man... yeah...

the type of guy that says the puddin' is delicious...

Just about killed someone today...
...my beautiful wife. I am sad, even now, thinking about it.
See, the alarm went off this morning, about 4:15 (gave myself an extra 15 minutes) and I rolled out of bed like I normally do. Was kinda tired and was moving a little slow (comparatively speaking, slow like a slow moving bullet, you dig?). I turned towards the alarm and froze. I saw something moving out of the corner of my eye. Instintcs kicked in and I raised the fist of fury, had the touch of death all ready, blue flames and all. Was just about to leap through the air, was a split second away from unleashing death and mayhem, when I noticed it was my beautiful wife. I quickly extinguished the flames and turned off the alarm and gave my wife a pat on the ass and put her back in bed.
Now, some people, being this close to killing someone and/or other misc carnage would probably be shaking in their boots, but in my line of work you get used to it. I have been much closer than this, much closer...
Speaking of destruction, whoever borrowed my nunchucks needs to get them back to me. I gotta put an ass whoopin' on the sausage. I swear, that boy has been eye ballin' me the last couple of day. He got himself a new orange safety shirt and it hurts my eyes. I get all squinty and try to keep my head turned, but it is like looking at the sun, just can't help it you know? So I glance over there, and much like looking into the sun, I get an image of the sausage burned into my retinas. Unlike me, though, he is straight up lookin' at me. It is a lot like a wax statue or some other big dopey looking soulless something or other, but I can't help but feel that somewhere deep in that tub of blubber there is some sort of primitive thought process happening and I don't like it. I will teach him a lesson, a long slow lesson, that is why I need my nunchucks. Don't want to whip out the touch of death/fist of fury (plus I don't want to get shit on my hands). I have no problem beating him thoroughly with a hunk of wood though. And it is going to take a lot of beating... I may get carpal tunnel by the time I am done from all the repetitive movement.
***
Dude, you know what is tasty? Pigs in a blanket. Yeah!!!
I made some up yesterday, the girls had never had them. Rolled up a dog (thats the pig part, except that the girls had turkey dogs) with a slice of cheese and a crescent roll dough thingy out of a tube, you know what I am talking about. So they were pretty good, but you know, I bet I could do better.
'Cause I was thinking. I was all like, Pig. And Blanket, which is like a biscuit, and you know what goes good with biscuits? Gravey. Hmmnn, Sausage gravy... DUDE!!! Then I was all like, yeah, you know, I could wrap a sausage in a biscuit, then I thought, HEY, I could take some Jimmy Dean, and stuff that into the center of some fluffy biscuit dough, cook it up like a dumpling (somehow) then cover it with some tasty tasty white gravey. Then I was all like, Hmnnn, Momo's...
Then I got all hungry for other stuff. I like food.
Tonight I am going to the new H Mart in Federal Way. I think the H stands for Han or Hansa or something, not sure, it is Korean, regardless. They have a little deli type food deal in there, and aisle after aisle of Korean food. Will get me a case of Bowl Noodle, maybe some fresh Kimchi. Some of those Asian Funyuns things... damn...
**
Sorry about that Crap I wrote yesterday.
I tell you what, to make up for it, listen to some:
Richard Cheese - Smack my bitch up and Hot for teacher.
Possum Dixon - She Drives.
Dude: Iron Maiden - children of the Damned.
Morrissey - Meat is murder, Shoplifters of the World Unite
Blind Melon - Mouthful of Cavities
Neko Case - Blacklisted and Favorite.

OH, and I have a secret... it is kinda gross and stuff... I can't really put it up here, you dig, so if you are really interested, send me a note and I will let you know on the down low (OH, don't say that you are doing something on the downlow, because it means you are cheating on your wife... WTF?!?!?)

out for blood...

Dude, ok, so I am going to assume at this point that I have quit smoking. Seeing as how I haven't had one in over a month and have not been tempted and feel no need to go back there I am going to change my nametag to say "former" smoker...
So, since I am going to be making these grand assumptions I am also going to be my own medical advisor, yeah, and stop taking the wellbutrin (should set myself up with some demerol or percacets or adderall, dude, how about a nice cocktail of benzadrine and tylenol 4, twice a day until I am better... much better)...
I am thinking, and have it on good authority, that the wellbutrin makes you crazy... sure, the peaks and valleys may be shaved and filled in, but there is a whole nother (heh, nother) level of crazy that takes its place. This may be a tough weekend, but I think it will be worth it... I have been getting headaches and sharp muscular pains in my upper back and been mental and not been sleeping real good and all sorts of misc shit... so lets see what happens. In the end I will be pure vanilla. White, clean and neat. I hate those people, damn...
**
I found a purse today. Saw it laying there in the parking lot. I got so excited. I imagined all sorts of things I would find in it. A cache of drugs, like a kilo of cocaine, or a big bag full of ecstasy, some vivarin, whatever... Or maybe a couple bundles of 20's... or 50's, real ones, not counterfeits... like $20,000 worth. I figure about 20g's would make things happy (finally happy like we were promised)... Or maybe a golden key, one that would fit that door hidden in the wardrobe, and I could finally go through that door and have it out with Aslan... ASLAN!!! You are WRONG!!! Forgive me Jesus!!! ASLAN!!!
At least, I figured, there would be a wallet with a couple bucks in it, a welfare check and maybe some pictures of some ugly children with "To Auntie with love" written on the back... maybe some naked pictures of someone I really didn't need to see naked, ninja throwing stars, an old set of chopsticks and a book of matches with a fake phone # on them, a pen that doesn't work, socks, an old pack of tissues all frayed around the edges because it has been there for so long.
I picked it up, it was blue, it didnt have a lot of heft to it, but I could feel a little bulk... I looked inside, there were a couple pockets with zippers, I unzipped the zippers, there was nothing, nothing in the bottom, well, maybe some crumbs... I closed the flap and squeezed it again, there was something somewhere, ooh, something hidden, contraband... I checked again and found a zipper on the flap... I slowly unzipped it, pulled the openning open (duh) and looked inside.
Tampons. A handful of Tampons. How...sad. Like that old party balloon laying in the dirt, a lost purse with nothing but tampons in it is kinda, uh, well, I am sure there is a french word for it that means something about anguish and anger and disinterest, all at the same time... that is what it is like...
**
I been sitting here (and there), lookin' phat, smellin' good, package all waiting like a xmas present, and have yet to be licked. You would figure that if you sit in the same spot for long enough, not only would the world pass you by but eventually you would get a lick or two. Me, nothing.
OK, so to up the anty a little bit, let me mention that I put some vanilla extract right their in the tip. Which tip? That is for you to discover. May need to try a few different places until you get the treasure. I have hidden a present for you somewhere on my body... first one to find it wins. Ready? GO!!!
Lend me some sugar, I am your neighbor.
Hey, what, oh, yeah, I'm just happy to see you...
Uh, can I kiss you on the veranda? No? The lips would be fine then...
**
Listen to:
Hoodoo Gurus: Death Defying
Blind Melon: Mouth full of cavities
Bauhaus: Stigmata Martyr (again and again)
BloodHound Gang: Yummy down on this

bursting at the seams

I am going to be very agitated today, I can tell already, or, by the time you read this I will have been agitated all day but hopefully am done now/by then.
Stuff at the place I spend all my time, can't really talk about it, nothing personal...
Although, I was thinking that since I spend so much time in this very spot I am currently in that I would give this area some special name... I was thinking of calling it my "cockpit" but that sounds kinda sexy and that ain't really a description of this place (except of course that I am here so that raises the sexy level by some large amount that would take more than my "math as a practical art" shapley shubrick skills to calculate). I thought about maybe calling it my pond since I am the Catfish, but, yeah, no... I need something powerful, not like throne room or command center, something german or something... no, something Brazillian... heh, like cockpit... get it? see, cause brazillian women... well, nevermind...
My chair squeeks...
**
So this dude on the bus today, he was freaking me out... there was something about him. He was one of those people that just didn't seem to belong. Not that he was hideous or deformed or super something or other, but just seemed out of place in time... he looked familiar and he kept touching his face... I know, weird, huh...
So I catch him eyeballin' me a couple times and just kinda ignore it 'cause, you know, people are always checkin out my package and shit so you just kinda get used to it... So at the first stop here in the city Lysa the tranny gets off the bus and this gal tells her to have a good day or whatever and after she gets off the dude is all like, hey, was that your son or something and this gal gets all bent and says something like "HER NAME IS LYSA" real frosty like, the dude was all like whoa... so a couple stops later I stand up to get off and the dude looks at me and says, hey, isn't your name (insert my name here), and I was all like, whoa... I said yeah, then he said my first name with some strange last name and I was like, no... then I recognized him. He was this drunk that came I met a year or so ago. I was waiting for the bus to take me home and he came up and asked me for some money for the bus since he only had $1.50. I told him I didn't have any, then he asked me where he could get a beer for $1.50, I said he could go to the mini mart and get a 40oz or walk his ass down the road to the bar. Somehow this made us best buddies. Luckily the bus showed up just then, unfortunately he got on the bus right behind me. So I went to the back of the bus, and he went to the back of the bus. He started asking everyone for money, started talkin' crap about being a vet and having back troubles or something and being mental. I pretended not to be able to hear him with my headphones on, so he starts fighting with someone about something then starts like quoting songs or poetry or something... I was all frightened that he was going to get off the bus behind me, follow me home or something. I was ready to knock his ass out and bust a move off the bus... He is damn lucky he didn't try, I would have whupped him something good.
So now I am being called a bum magnet... fuckers...
**
I don't know about that pirate tattoo... I was thinking it would be cool, but that is all I got. If I showed someone and they asked why a skull and crossbones or if I was a pirate I would be like, uh, not sure, it looks cool though, eh?...
Since I can't really claim to be a pirate.
I though about getting the om mani padme om but same thing, it is cool but can I really claim to be buddhist? So then I was thinking, damn, what can I claim to be... I don't really have any membership cards or strong affiliations... not gonna get my name or anyone elses names... not gonna get the metro symbol, or pork...
Isn't that the point? To commemorate the strong feelings or associations you have? Or, at least, should be the point?
That is what I am sticking with, otherwise, through the years, I would have some funky ass tattoos... would have a joker card on my arm. One of those broken heart outlines on my chest. A big old knife going down my arm. A scottish lion, hell, I can't remember all of them... HEY, how about not getting a tat and looking for some other flair... Like a nipple ring. Or a mohawk. Or a apron, kiss the cook or something... yeah...

still spicey...

So I have not been kidnapped yet. Maybe I have the movie wrong? You know what? I bet I have been dumped into some stupid french film. One of those that are a study in tedium. One where I am just kinda moving in slow motion, doing the same thing day after day but the camera keeps doing these fucked up close ups on objects around me that would make a huge change in my life if I just took the time to notice them... there, over there, a $50 bill. Look, over there, a suitcase full of old pictures blah blah... Damn, stupid french bastards.
Screw that... if it is going to go down like that it will be more like Joe vs. the Volcano... I will be Tom Hanks and my old lady can be Meg Ryan and we be in love and jump into the big woo and get blown out of it and the island will sink and we will be stuck in the middle of the ocean and die... Things will get real bad out there and I will let her kill me for food because I wouldn't be able to eat her because she tastes like chicken and I don't eat chicken... and I am so Tasty...
For real, I dare any of you to come on over here and give me a lick, yeah, go ahead, lick it... yeah... yummy down on me... See, cause the enjoyment of food is not only taste, but ambience, and smell and texture... and I got all of them... I got ambience coming out my ass... for real...
**
So I was thinking of getting a tattoo again. Was looking at tattoo pictures on the interweb... the latest idea is to get a skull and crossbones, pirate type deal... I would love to get one big ass black skull and crossbones that would cover my back, but being a hairy bastard (its genetic, dammit... my people come from cold climates) there would have to be all sorts of shaving and/or waxing involved, and before you ladies get all in an uproar about how ya'll have to do it and see how you are I would like to say: A) Yeah, who's getting waxed? and B) I would wax my area's if you asked ME to... but it would be like clearing a landing strip in the forest... so there...
But really, so the process of removal starts, but where does it end... I am all about symmetry so could just have just this one clear area that would abruptly end and shit... so it would go on and on, then there would be maintenance and I am afraid it would come back and be like in the Fly when Brundlefly starts noticing these harsh black hairs coming out in places... Basically it wouldn't be the same soft pelt anymore, would be something less luxurious, and I am not about to risk that... So maybe just on my arm... Damn, could have come to that like 200 words ago...
**
I came here to chew gum and kick ass, and I just ran out of gum...
So, yeah, you know that song about the caffiene in the bloodstream and shit? It's funny (haha) that that is the extent of my spice nowadays... I used to associate so much with smokin' and/or drinking and stuff. Hell, looking around my place there are references to alchohol in most every room. Used to have a drink or two or ten every day, walkin along the train tracks, smokin and drinkin... now I don't. I am suffering from an identity crisis... who am I and what do I do now? what is my vice? I'm still nasty, right? Still a bad boy, eh??? Do I need to wear chaps or something? Grow out a mustache? eh??? I don't even have the face pelt anymore... Aaarghghghgg... don't look at me!! I'm am HIDEOUS in my blandness... I am a vanilla air freshener... damn... DUDE... I know... I am having a mid life crisis.... I WILL grow out a mustache, and get some chaps and a motorcyle and get one of those things on the back of the bike, what are those called, oh, yeah, bitches... Need to get me one of them bitches... and an american flag... one of them bitches holding an american flag... DUDE... I won't refer to you as a bitch, but you gotta wear an american flag bikini and ride on the back of my hog... yeah!!!

Aaarrghghgg...gurgle...

Not much to say, evil pirates are waging a battle in my skull...
So here are some random links to look at...
Definately gotta get to Roq La Rue... they have the killer shows...





Shag, definately art worth purchasing...

Dude, COOP... His site is fun to check out, visit his blog and you will discover a whole new world...

end transmission

suffering sharp stabbing pains to his temples, intermittently.

Fook, I think I sunburned my eyeballs!!! My eyes are all itchy and scratchy and I am suffering from this intermittent headache, intermittent in that I will be fine then all of a sudden I get jabbed in the side of the head with a spear... literally, by stupid spearing monkeys. I don't think I am dying though, just inferm.

***
Dude... no, other dude, yeah... went to the beach yesterday, which is where I got the burnt balls (eyeballs are balls too, heh) and so, yeah, went to this beach... Tons of fun, the girls loved it, well the little ones... The lovely wife, she decided to take out all her wrath on me. I didn't fully disclose how lovely it would be down there, so we were completely unprepared. Apparently this makes me an asshole. So there I am, all laying in the sun, and she is all like, "YOU ASSHOLE!!!"... I was shocked... SHOCKED... She was sorry, I could tell, she just kinda blurted it out, just kinda flew off her tongue like some sort of tourettes or something. I let it slide, cause, you know, she is so fine.
So I just sat there, enjoying the sun, admiring the views of the water and the fine shape of my lady's back... all zen'ed out and shit... when she suddenly spits out with some vile profanities... but basically she called me asshole again. I was all like, hey, what's up, baby... and she told me she was sorry again, she just wasn't ready for the beach... we didn't bring any swimming stuff or spare clothes for the girls, buckets, towels, all that stuff... she was sad, sad I tell you... we were failing as parents... our girls were left wanting...
I felt really bad about this... got a little teary when the love of my life let me know how she felt... her pain is my pain... I told her I was sorry... should have mentioned a bit more, etc... she smiled at me and went back to her macrame...
So I get back into the zen, mediatated on what I had done or not done, and tried to find something within myself...
I was so close, just about there, could see the golden door openning when the love of my life openned up the floodgates... she is all like, you suck you know... you are stupid and ugly and smell bad and are hairy and cook with too much garlic, and are a poor driver and fold clothes wrong and leave hair in the bathroom and use my smelly stuff and don't vacuum in the corners and spend too much time on the computer and did I mention stink and everyone hates you and I can't blame them and I am tired of defending you and you don't listen to Billy Idol enough and don't look like Billy Idol and you aren't Billy Idol and are an ASSHOLE...
So we went home and took the girls swimming at the pool and cooked hotdogs on the grill.
***
So this reoccuring feeling that I am a retard and live in special housing for retarded people and work at a job for retarded people and the real world is a lot more dangerous than I know because in my world all the corners are rounded... you know that one? Well it was reinforced a little bit on Saturday. Went to my special barber to get a special haircut and ran into this dude I used to work with and he was all like, Hey Trey, and I was all like, Huh... and he was all like, hey, how ya doin? and he asked if I remembered who he was and I was all like, uh, Danny? and he said yes... and somewhere in there I said that I was suprised he recognized me and I would have walked on by without recognizing him... and he mentioned something like how I had a distinctive face or recognizable face or something, which I took to mean that I looked like a big retard and my style of retardation makes me stand out from normal retarded people... So now he is on my shitlist... I will put him below Starbucks and people you use cellphones all the time... and the facilities dude...
***
Dude:
Listen to:
Mark Lanegan: Kimiko's dream house and Ugly Sunday Morning and Borracho
Snoop Doggy Dogg with Kokane: Hennesey and Buddha
Bauhaus: Stigmata Martyr, She's in parties, and Severance (dude, I am going to include the words to Severance below, I am so morose):
Severance
The birds of leaving call to us,
Yet here we stand
endowed with the fear of flight.
Overland
The winds of change consume the land,
While we remain
In the shadow of summers now past.
When all the leaves
Have fallen and turned to dust,
Will we remain
Entrenched within our ways.
Indifference,
The plague that moves throughout this land
Omen signs
In the shapes of things to come.

Tomorrow's child is the only child.

Lono...

Sorry bout that, I am back now. Gimme some garlands and shit...
***
Sorry about calling ya'll bitches yesterday. I was just trying to impress upon you how very important it is for you to do somthing or other... yes, very important.
You know I love each and every one of you. For real!!! I would like to make sweet sweet love to each of you. That is how deeply I feel for you. I am like Morrissey except for liking girls and stuff, and eating meat... and not so morose... so I am nothing like Morrissey...
But I am Lono... lookie here...
But like Morrissey ... the MOZ... the sun shines out my behind... its not like any other love, it is different, because it is ours... you and me...
But for real...
****
Sorry, again with the sorries... today seems to be the longest day in a long time...
So, people come around here all the time... the chick that waters the flowers, I told her last week that we call her "the chick that waters the flowers". She says she has been called worse. Just trying to brighten her day, you dig.
The maintenance guy, yeah... uh, nevermind...
I get visitors all the time, here, on the interweb... I know I do, see the number getting bigger at the bottom of the page? I know where you are from, how long you were here, I suppose... but not sure who the hell you are... Really, Spring something something, Montana? California? Trey? Is that you? You want me to change my name? Lance Boyles? How about Conroy... just Conroy...
So if you get a chance, listen to:
Rot Gut by Dub Narcotic
Shoplifters of the world and Suedehead by Smiths/morrissey
That live Colin Meloy you downloaded yesterday? Listen to Now I drempt I was an Architect. He goes into that Thunder only happens when its raining song...
Love Always by The Obituaries (Hey, listen to living at home, too)
and as always, listen to your heart, thats what I do...

facing forward like a big boy.

Dude, I was going to be so productive this morning. I was so tired and full of ambition at the same time. In my sleepy state it was easy to slip into the dream world of productivity. I was going to do this and this and this and this other thing. I was gonna be friggin' amazing. The stuff of legend. People would look at me and wonder how I could fit so much into so little time and want to sleep with me. Yeah, I was gonna be a rock star, a super star...
For the life of me I can't remember one thing I was going to do. Nothing. Something something about be an organic compound and subject to decay. Such is life. I accept this and am one step closer to enlightenment. The path is the destination.
***
I am ready for my life to take an exciting twist, like in some funny movie. Here is how it should go...
These 2 dudes, played by Owen Wilson and Jason Lee, will mistake me for the son of a corrupt senator (because the resembelence is remarkable) and kidnap me. They want to stop the senator from blocking the passage of a bill that will finally decriminalize marijuana and will ransom me off in exchange for this. They will discover that I am not really the senators son when they hit the real son while they are driving down the road arguing. They find the sons wallet, thats how they know, and they take it, and the son is in a coma and cannot be identified because his head is wrapped in bandages. So they are not sure what to do with me but I suggest that I would be willing to help them with their cause by pretending to be the senators son. There would be a bunch of pot smoking, and hot women that find me REALLY attractive because I will not have sex with them, even though they are very erotic, because I am married and would never cheat on my wife.
My wife is supportive of my hijinks as long as it doesn't take too long, she is waiting at home and planning a big suprise of some sort because she loves me (there is happy music and baloons and love in the air). The real senators son coming out of his coma. The senator, played by Christopher Walken, is caving in to our demands and is going to vote appropriately. For some reason there is a lot of running around and everything comes to a head and finally the vote comes and it passes and everyone rejoices, and the senators son has amnesia and does not know if he was kidnapped or not and I am a hero and at the end everyone is sitting in a cafe by the lake laughing and tokin' up.
That is how it should go.
***
The duffle bag dude is rapidly becoming the new sausage on the bus. I can totally picture him in a robe and pajamas and paper slippers, shuffling around some mental ward and randomly freaking out when someone turns the channel on the community tv or the baseball game goes into extra innings.
He was all twitchy and shit today. I actually got to sit in a regular seat (facing forward) and was watching the back of his head and he went through his motions. Again, diggin' in his duffle, checkin' the time, trying to get comfortable with his head against the backrest. I noticed a wedding ring on his hand and thought, how odd that he is actually married, then I thought, well shit, they let me get married so I guess it ain't so unusual (we take care of each other)... I am going to bring my camera and sneak a picture. Today I could have gotten most of the characters all in one shot. It would have been sweet.
***********
OK bitches...
You must enjoy the following music TODAY:
Go to: Mezzotint and click on the MP3 link and download everything you can find. Mark Mulcahy is the shit!!!
DUDE, NPR... Holy Shit!!! You can download entire concerts there...
Is that Neko Case? Yep! Colin Meloy, for real? Indeed. Oops... the Colin Meloy concert has been removed... Heh, never fear, I have skills, download here
OK, and Karl Blau at Here, if you click on the #'s you will find a buttload of music... some of it is pure gold, some of it is pure crap, crap nuggets, fools gold... you get the picture...

thinking of a cake

I was going to be a smartass and talk up about how there was an accounting error and it was actually 667 something or others so it is actually next year that the evil day falls on, etc., etc... But I didn't really know what that something something is that there are/is 666 of so I checked on wikipedia. It turns out there is some disagreement on what the actual number is and what it means and blah blah blah... So screw it... But just to freak your shit out, take a look at what my boy William Blake painted on the subject. Ooohh and Whoaa
****
Ok, I got a good whiff of the sausage this morning, and I definately smell like roses, comparatively speaking. So, I guess if you are a pessimist or a bear you would then have to assume that the sausage smells really really really bad. And he does, so there.
We are getting a whole new batch of interesting people (or what I like to call "freaks") on the bus these days. I am often reminded of that line in "no no man" about "fish getting clubbed on the pier" when I look at these people. No, not the tranny (Lysa she calls herself) or the old lady that dresses like she is in the tour de France. Take this new dude, he is kinda a cross between rain man and the brother in Something about Mary. He keeps digging through this duffle bag that he wears so the duffle is in the front. I wonder what he is looking for. When he is not ruffling in his duffle he is checking his watch. Then he pretends to be sleeping but noone could sit like that and actually sleep, plus his eyes are not really closed. I think he is looking at me. All this makes him a bastard, eh?
Dude, there is this old Mexican dude, he gets on the bus, and he is wearing this kick ass Guardado's Tortilla's baseball cap. It is red and white and green... I must find me one of those. Damn...
***
Ok, time to use your imagination... I have imaginarily typed a major tirade (diatribe?*) against people who wear watches and talk on cell phones all the time (like to the same person every hour on the hour and/or when they are 50ft away)... Holy Shit!!! You know what... I am probably talking about YOU!!! WTF?!?!! Heh... Don't I have some balls... talkin' shit about you like that... you watch wearing cell phone talking something something...
***
My toe itches...
***
My lovely wife makes me a better person. She Rocks!!!

super slippery ok joe... stinky

So many words to write, so little to say...
The bus got stuck in traffic today. The cops had 3 lanes of I-5 shut down. I found it amusing, tried to imagine that it had something to do with today being 06/06/06... Just the dark lord up to his shenanigans. Then it turns out that the freeway was blocked off because some cop had shot and killed some crazy dude in the middle of the night. The cops were digging for evidence. How evil I thought. Here we are passing the scene of a homicide. Really, I just passed within 15ft. the spot where 3 hours ealier some dude was killed. Really Evil...
I guess it is just evil cause I want it to be. I don't really believe in evil... I believe in chaos and how it is a necessary part of the universe... not sure how relevant that is.
I won't beat this to death (uhhh...), but outside of the christian world 666 is seen as more of a good luck number...
In China I found that 6 is: easy and smooth. From Wikipedia it says: The number six, pronounced "Liu", sounds like the word for "slippery" which can mean "everything goes smoothly".
So there you go... Today is Super Smooth Day. Or super slippery day... I think I am going to go with super slipery smooth day.
****
Speaking of chaos (super slippery smooth chaos), I am thinking, when I go to ND this summer, to take no more than I can fit in a plastic shopping bag, clothes wise. I figure 1 pair of pants, 3 wife beaters, a couple Dickies work shirts, pair of shorts, and I should be good... Actually, good enough for me, but others may not agree, seein' as how I am such a smelly bastard. Dude... I am becoming completely paranoid. The big bear here at the place I spend so much of my life claims to be able to smell me from accross the building, even when I am not wearing my bear repellent. Then my lovely wife gets tears in her eyes from my stench. Now I am starting to smell things... Serious... I imagine getting on the bus in the morning and people cringing, hoping I will not sit next to them because I smell too offensive in the morning. My arm smells good, I think. Isn't that what the ocean and wind and horny smells like? When did I change my pants last? Maybe they are stenchy. I am not wearing socks so my feet are not all sweaty so they don't smell, or shouldn't smell... Damn...
So somewhere in my highly developed self consciousness node of brain tissue I have this belief that I am retarded and smelly, oh, and that the rest of you are all figments of my imagination. How mental is that, that the figments of my imagination find me stinky. I need to get a new imagination.
Oh, yeah, I am going to take as little as possible so I will have enough room for beef jerky and little meat sticks... that's what I was going to say...

obviously tired.

I have come to some sort of conclusion or other that being tired sucks. Hows that for a conclusion?
I know I am tired as everything I try or need to do seems like a monumental chore.
I know I am tired as whenever anyone around me speaks it makes me cringe, recoil from the onslaught of sound.
I know I am tired as I am having imaginary arguments with people. Wanna enjoy one? OK...
So I am on the bus this morning and I start imagining that I am arguing with my lovely wife. I had made some steak and shrimp and potatos for dinner last night while the wife and Noner were at the Junie B. Jones play. So, for the steak there was a marinade with a couple cloves of garlic (some coke, some sweet chili sauce and some soy sauce). For the shrimp there was a marinade with this stinky chili paste that I am sure has plenty of garlic in it. Oh, I threw a clove or two into the potatos that I was frying also. Where was I, oh, so yeah, I ate a bunch of garlic. So here is where the imaginary fight starts.
I imagine that I was pretty stinky last night, garlic oozing out my pores and mouth and stuff (not hard to imagine). So I get to work and my lovely wife calls and tells me I really stunk last night. So I get all offended and say to her something about, why do you gotta be mean and shit. If you stunk I wouldn't say anything to you about it. I don't say anything when you !!! or when you !!! (see, can't even say it now). Then I say something about her trying to be nice to me. So she gets really pissed off at me since she hates it when I pout and I called her out and shit... So I get all pissed off that she is pissed when it is MY right to be mad for her actions, not her at my actions... And we are all unhappy.
And there were a lot of other words that I wanted to put together in some sort of cohesive if not coherent order, something that would instill a sense of awe that someone could be SO tired and yet so on top of things or something.
Oh, I changed my template... How about that... I am going to put some pictures over there on the left <<< and I guess the stuff on the right is already filling up, so there you go.
*******************
OK, so I have speaks with the lovely wife this afternoon, and she goes into how I stunk to high heaven.... she almost walked away right then and there... see the room had been airtight for like 5 hours before she came in so it was all building up and shit... she claims her eyes were watering... she wanted to make sure I had some mints because I probably still stink, and I said, oh yeah, why don't you shove a mint up your butt cause your butt stinks...

I am that I am...

I am dying here people... Need to get some tributes... Come On!!! Gimme some love...
In the abscence of love I am willing the take the following in Tribute:
1) Aveda Brilliant Anti-Humectant Pomade (please, please, please... that crap I am using now is not cutting it). Oh, while you are at the Aveda store get me some of that Clove, Shampure or Sap Moss shampoo, thanks.
2) The Adventures of Pete and Pete Seasons 1 and 2.
3) Van Winkle Special Reserve Bourbon (just a taste)
4) A papasan chair...
5) A portable hard drive, around 40G would be GREAT!!!
6) How about a couple more work shirts... A light blue one perhaps, with CATFISH stitched on the chest... yeah

If I were to run into someone famous, say at the airport or walking in the park, just randomly, you know, I think I would like it to be HH the Dalai Lama... You know, I wouldn;t feel a need to really gush over him or anything, just kinda give him a nod and a Hey and maybe just walk around with him. I think that would be very pleasant... no expectations, you know... Well, beyond the holy light that would be glowing all around him, and some of it rubbing off on me... Dude, or he would look at me and like recognize me as the incarnation of someone or other... or at least grant me total consciousness on my deathbed... thats all.
You know, randomly running into people I admire would not be so bad. I could still keep my twisted morales in check and stuff... General acknowledgement of admiration, that is about as far as I would like to go... unless we sit down for a couple beers and maybe some kielbasa and then we could talk about stuff and I could tell them what I thought and they could tell me how funny that is and how cute I am and how I smell real good and how being on the road is lonely and would I give them a back rub and I would be all like, sure, you should probably take your shirt off and they would and then they would say, is my bra getting in the way, would you mind, and I would not mind at all I would say and she would say, oh that feels so good, a little lower, yeah, thats the spot... I don't know why but whenever I get that spot rubbed on my lower back it just, errh, you know, gets my motor running... then she would start purring and stuff and I would be all like, uhhh... and then my old lady would walk in and she would be impressed with my skills and stuff... of course, in order for this to work it would have to be like Neko or Christina Ricci or something... see, I could get behind that kind of mutual admiration... no need to get all freaky and blowing smoke up peoples butts...
Dude, you know it could so seriously happen... cause I gots skills... it is kinda subconscious or something... maybe it is the way I move, or the way my eyes are kinda squinty... maybe it is the way I gave Mr. Seattle a beat down in the Dance Competition... who knows...
I don't know how many times it started out all casual and social and stuff and somehow, at the end of the night, I am rubbing cocoa butter all over some naked chick... Well, I DO know how many times, but that is not important...
I was going to suggest, to someone I know, that just for fun we do some improve... Someone throw out a couple famous people... anyone.. What? Billy Idol? Ok, I will be Billy Idol... now we need a lady, a famous actress... someone gimme a name... anyone.. anyone? Carmen Electra? No, come on, lets have something to work with... Neko Case.. Yes, ok..
So I will be Billy Idol and my beautiful wife here will be Neko Case...
So, what should we do as these characters? What kind of Hijinks? Rob a bank? eh, maybe, what else can we come up with.. anyone? Pretend we are on a deserted island and neko has a sunburn and billy idol needs to rub cocoa butter all over her??? Yes, I think we can work with that... Ok, so I am Billy Idol and I have a snear on my face... see my spikey hair and tatoos? Oh, and leather pants... ok...
Come on, close your eyes and imagine I am Billy Idol... You will be Neko Case... all aboard...
Eh, OK, not sure about that... seems forced and blatent and stuff...

So, your musical mission today is to listen to the following:
Bass Hump by Dub Narcotic Sound System
I am that I am by Peter Tosh
Nobody Else by The Obituaries
What Tom Said About Girl by The Blow
The Calvin Johnson Mix Tape, which I highly recommend, you can get it streaming at Tokionfm.com or download it HERE