nola flu

•2013-01-24 (Thursday) • Leave a Comment

so fucking sick.

12:27 pm, January 7th.

I told god to take me in my sleep, but that fucker didn’t have the balls!

seriously, you guys, i’m really really sick. or have been. I am recovering, mostly.

I smell much worse than I thought, but that’s ok.

this coffee is good.

this has become a writing session without internet. let’s see what’s happened.

well, I spent the new year’s eve and most of new year’s day driving erv, down I-39, I-55, and highway 51. we went out on a rainy night, and missed our trolley back. as if the trip down hadn’t been brutal enough. this happens to me a lot, it seems. or, it happened once before, in milwaukee. walking really really far when that wasn’t necessary. maybe it was. maybe that’s not what made me sick. this sick was like, uncanny brutal. like all the sick of the last few years which I didn’t have time or home to deal with. hacking loudly in the night, cold sweats. fuck. it hurts. still, it still hurts. I think my back is sore from a non-supportive mattress, [waitress asks if i'd like more coffee, then takes my cup.??) one can only assume infinite refills. I don't think I need that much coffee today. where the fuck was I. oh yeah] but the constant headaches? I don’t get. partial bottle flu, sure. weakened immune system.

we did some stuff here, already. wandered through the cemetary. saw the art museum, on its free day. took a streetcar. public transport is great. I got dirt up and running, too. yeah, erv blows an alternator, leaving us to a night in a wal-mart parking lot, and dirt pops a brand new tube in the bike shop right as they were closing. I was already feeling pretty bad by the time all that went down, and it is still winter, despite being further south. rainy season. sun for a day, then more rain. combine that with my cold sweats, and ow.

I need to get outside. i’ll catch up with you later. peace.

12:38 pm. Friday, one eleven twenty thirteen. cc’s Community Coffee House. “Voted South Louisiana’s Favorite Coffeehouse.” I have my second cup of coffee here. I haven’t started it yet. I added sugar this time. the refill was free. straight up, free. I left a dollar tip. this is an office proper. ’bout time.

I am the right seat/table of a full-wall booth. another person sits at the opposite end. I wonder if she feels my twitching, or will so the grindcore dancing that’s soon to be here. no doubt. 12:41 pm

I don’t think it matters. neither that we got booted, nor why. I have theories. I giggle at them. I am going to have to leave this place, eventually. aren’t I? yeah, you probably should. go for a bike ride. I like that tallest building idea.

do I!?‽

heading out. 3:11 pm

back. 12:07 pm, saturday the 12th. back at cc’s community coffeehouse. I should busk.

I think things are going well. so far, so good.

the trick, if it is that. if it is a shortcut, it’s a different one than I mentioned earlier. the trick is to keep breathing. no. different trick. I know things that happen in life, in our reality tunnel, create stress in us. if you can witness the emotion in yourself, without reacting to it. you are not required to start yelling. I get that it hurts. I can see that in your face. I feel it directly from your heart. that’s another trick. yes, you completely have the capability. it’s a double-edged sword, as matter-of-fact metaphors go. let’s write about new orleans. ok.

we started out plugged in at a friend of a friend’s driveway. now, erv sits in the shadow of the convent, being shook by drunken jerks at night, probably the low-light. he called it a poor-person camper. ok, I cop to all. please let me sleep. do I shake your hotel or your vehicle while you’re trying to sleep? no, I do not.

there is a spot, on the very south edge of the french quarter, where you can see the downtown skyline, and a large bridge. it is a very moist cool, which shifts to heat quickly. pigeons said hello, gulls soar on the breeze, and I saw a pelican this morning. it was utterly majestic. he was referencing me, or she was. I did not see any quick movements. a few weight shifts, but a stoic glide, it was. from the train yard all along the trail at the edge of the water. that bird soared for thirty seconds with barely an adjustment. maths, yo. if you don’t think animals understand waves and water and gasseous interactions, you don’t pay very close attention to animals. to top it off, it dipped into the fog and disappeared from view. very majestic bird.

my grandma’s very sick. or, seems to be dying. I sent my mom a few texts. I cried alone in the rain, with twitter. you can’t tell me twitter isn’t real people, or that I shouldn’t consider it socialization, because it is. it’s akin to how you socialize with humans in the same room who you don’t make eye contact with, but they’re there. you’re there. you see each others movements.

did I used to be one of these drunks? you still are. I know. it’s ok. it’s really ok. I stay close to home.

I am a regular in places. I am quiet and contempletive. I do not stay and listen to harsh words for very long. I wish you luck, and I am happy that our paths crossed. letting a mean dysfunction addict tell you what to do and make you go places you don’t want to go is not worth the pain. I guess it depends on how well that person relieves pain. don’t let them get away with demanding a “right” to cause/inflict pain in the first place, however. most abusive couples do it to each other. the dominant makes sure of this. I don’t know how to back out of that kind of arrangement. …1:23 pm. you don’t back out of any agreements, especially those. arrangements. those are the teaching moments. people. relationships. the teaching relationships.

from where I sit, the window acress the street says WHOLESALE FRAMING SINCE 1976 FINE ART, which is cool. there is a graveyard cat painting and the cat has a mean-looking snake around it, and it says VOODOO CAT. there’s a smiling sun with an up-turned nose, too. lounging frogs. praying angels in the window and on the balcony above.

the kindred spirits I have met here are too numerous to count. I met puppies, birds, and I put a baby salamander on the baby mouse’s hood ornament perch. rain. sweat. camo hat bros with what looked like silver bullets. I played some good musics on the abbey jukebox. I tweeted some stuffs. I have a phone full of great pictures, a heart full of love. hehehehe. packers fans.

all is. love.

Posted in art, brazen opinion, dance, family, health, itstory, music, sex, transport, wheel, writing

travel contacts

•2012-12-4 (Tuesday) • Leave a Comment

i’m nobody’s boyfriend
i’m no. body’s boy, friend
I hhm no. bodies, boy, friend

back from madison. I barely talked to anyone. that’s intentional, i’m sure. now i’m back in my favorite office, trying to be well behaved. I don’t know if it’s working.

life gives you lemons, you BLOW THOSE LEMONS TO BITS WITH YOUR LASER-CANNONS

I can’t get very far. yeah, you could. you don’t want to. tied to that shit. I know. what, are you going to yell at me about it? no. why are you so sad? why have I ever been sad? it’s what I was designed for. it’s on the wind. is it? I don’t think i’m righter than anybody else. I want to work with you, all of you. I know you already have work relationships with people. you can’t have more than one? strength through instability? no, strength through multiple contact points. strength is engineered.

I thought we were going to draw some erv. we are. can we not work in daylight? stop saying this isn’t working. you are a waste of keystrokes. I spent $40 to drink beer at a concert at a skate park warehouse in madison. it was about as perfect as I could have hoped. yes, cute humans introduced me to cute animals. other kewt humans played brutal musics that I thoroughly enjoyed. thoroughly. talked to someone with piercings who offered me a place to sleep. I stayed on my sister’s floor instead. it makes me sad, going there. their reality tunnel doesn’t look very far ahead. and it excludes me. you kind of invited yourself in. no, I didn’t. what is wrong with wanting to work with people I know, rather than having them do something independent, for a different amount of money

no, we have to keep my name off of the ownership certificate, because then I would actually feel safe doing work on land knowing that I would be able to prevent the jumpers from jumping ship. yeah, they taught me well. why am I getting kicked off the family plan again? because you’re getting new phones? you fucking assholes. what can you not take any more? never speaking to me? treating me like a stranger? just because you trust that asshole doesn’t mean I do. he’s a terrified racist retard. let him rot. what are we going to do? not have a phone. you don’t have one now. do you really have to text all the time? it’s not like it’s gotten you anything. literally, not a single thing, other than isolation and misery, have come to you, in real life, as a result of your time on twitter.

that’s retarded. lol. i’ve met tons of people on twitter, and hung out with many of them for extended periods of time. people like me. they do. they have. they can. right now, you are more than a handful. see ya 8:54 pm 11/26/12, temp’s in the teens.

stop telling people to not be themselves. my world needs more. of those. lol. i am. i am here. i don’t know how, but yes. i could use a road dog 10:28 pm. internet connection came, then went. then it came back, and I tweeted those, and then it went, again. so it’s 10:34 pm, and I should tweet. sleep. I should sleep. connection is back.

and gone. it’s probably fucking up somebody’s war game. no humans are harmed in the playing of war games, unless those playing are parents, or could otherwise be productive workers. in other words, every one is harmed by the playing of war games.

I could have worked at a coffee shop in sun prairie. yah, but den no dumpster loot. that car is a multi-use tool. too bad you’re not. oh come on. you could work more often. it’s 10:47 pm, and i’m still blogging! I don’t see you signing up to edit my blogs, to decide what’s worth publishing and what’s not. oh no? re-post it then, with a different name, and see if you can get anyone to watch. it has a built-in freeze mechanism. what does. my dancing. what? yes, it freezes viewers in their tracks. like medusa hair. do you doubt me? I have seen it happen more times than you have seen me dance. so, what is it, then? i’m not keeping you from giving me money, either.

what does my phone number matter. nobody calls it. nobody ever will. i’m as crazy as anyone ever has been. hardly. they’re training them for the reality tunnel that they think those kids need. I know. I am more disturbed than ever by most of what goes on at my “family’s” house nowadays. “are you seriously crying because I put cranberries in your oatmeal?” what do you want to talk about, old man? nothing. demon-seer, neither. if you don’t let me ramble your ear off on the telephone, you’re dead to me. ooh, brainfreeze. waterbottle. 11:00 pm.

it crashed on the living room floor, on the air mattress. yeah, we drank too many beers. slept in. got moved to the couch upstairs. dad didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t say goodbye to the little napping one, either. honestly, for crapitulatism’s reality tunnel, constant abandonment is the norm. your financial transaction is finished here, son. please be on your way.

no desire to understand at all. anti-understanding. well, if it’s not on tv, or if you can’t get it off the shelf, it may as well not exist.

bobby, nothing you post makes any sense. a cooperative is a business. anyone who takes part in this has to participate in the daily operations of a business. I would move to have you removed from the room at every meeting. or muzzled. i’m serious. have you ever run a business before? what marketing? we feed each other. we are our customers. if we have extra to sell, we sell it, to our networks. yeah, it’s useful to have a diversified network, then. we have more ranting, do-nothing white men than we know what to do with. that was a reference to me, wasn’t it. obviously. 11:11 pm

ok, to sleeps. peace loves <3

have I been missing days again? hahahahaha. flashback humors.

we have url’s to share.

those are from my notes from the “worker’s cooperative” meeting last night. yes, I write down primarily url’s, and search terms.

erv still yellin, tea tree bronners got me less smellin’, crazy azzit waunabee an crombat bewts beat jellin’. the sound of boots gently stepping up a curb. the sound of combat boots glancing up library stairs, two-to-three at a time. I decided to love all these x-miss lights. you gonna keep calling it that? is sunmas a boy or a girl? -mas is the catholic designation for the anniversary of one’s birth, is it not? amazingly precise, yet so. far. off. target. it’s a show of capability. no, it’s missing as a rule. good analogy for the amercian social consciousness, eh? fatty blou blauw, what is you on a ’bout now? uh. kay. 5:30 pm, 11/29/12

6:05 pm. internet hiccup. I should report my income for harvest season. yup.

I have a good batch of grind here. good typing music.

well, anyway, the internet seems to be dead. who killed the internet? probably the same parties who deaded the electric car. shall we restart. yes. cool.

2:01 pm, 11/30/12 facebook is down. my phone is going away. what does that matter? people use telephones. you don’t. yup, barely. mostly as a texting machine.

inbox has apologies. that must mean i’m complaining again. I did something half-useful today. more than half. I am the sorriest. I know, one can’t claim that, can they. can they? I do not know such things.

left the camera, somewhere. couch.

I sent the following e-mail to my sister:

this is evil. i have a us cellular phone even!
i hate dad. i do not want to work with him. you are mean. seriously, mariah, it is your fault i am losing my number.  there is nothing you can say that will change that fact. i am very angry at you for this. i have absolutely no recourse. again, useless e-mail.  thanks for nothing.

t

p.s. “love” means helping, understanding, forgiveness, and communication. you are a liar.

and the one to my dad… well, I wrote it. the crash of my computer program deleted it. probably a good thing. he got this instead: “I prefer not to do business with you. Thanks anyway.” you better go tweet for a bit. [it did]

oh, hey, we’re in the other room now. it’s 3:55 pm, and we’re showered clean and nursing a case of hobo croch. yeah, ow. remember how I said i’d eventually be taking a clipper to my pubes in public. that day is sooner than ya think. nobody remembers the funny shit I say. favstar remembers, but you’d have to dig. I have to dig anyway. yup.

permaculture installation vehicle. piv. that’s not erv. no, it’s a different thing. cool. writing. usaprojects.org. we should also report earnings, and go find a phone. what? I thought we were going to say that was one less gadget we had to carry around. watch only, notebook. pencil. ooh, aren’t you hardcore. yeah, whatever.

so hardcore, in fact (4:07 pm), that I don’t have the login for the government stuff. how did I not know that? I want to say I saw it recently. the question is, where.

“turn the delay up in the headphones”

so, lots of potential, potentially, for erv as an art project, no? or the movie of her making. you and movies. what, you don’t think that’s a useful way to market, fund, and have a property upgraded quickly? do it for a film. it is art, that house. except real humans get to live in her afterwards. houses are mostly mothers, the ones i’d live in, anyway. yeah, there will probably be some dewd shacks, for the violent rejects who can’t get through their thick skulls that their harshness is the reason nobody wants to be around them. me, I can neither take a hint, nor a clue. and, I pretty much invariably over-stay my welcome now. this is the extent of my present self-loathing. I spend too little on rent, just because I neither cause shit, nor get in anyone’s way, very often. or, if I do, it is because they are moving in a way I find objectionable, as a human being. they don’t like having you here. I know, i’m not useful. you have been. you can be. mostly, you are an enabler, though. of all things terrible. don’t say that. well, it’s true. I know, just stop saying it. you really don’t think we contribute anything positive to humanity. smiling, and laughing in public for no good reason, just a nonsensical tweet from a cute, stuck-up little girl who doesn’t even listen to what we tweet or like our music or dancing? whoa. right!? hang on… *fixes auto-correct* ok‽ close enough. it won’t correct at the end of a word, but as its own word, it does. get it‽ yep. 4:27 pm

what are you expecting, or waiting for? well, not expecting much more than what we’ve gotten. a steady stream of metting locals. it is pretty much a steady stream, isn’t it. yup. mostly the pretty ones and smart ones go in front of our eyes, huh. yup.

we have to fill up a schedule. we can’t have this sleeping until noon-time wake & bake before a shower and coffee shopping. umm, can and do, have exactly that. the account name is in the ssi folder. that fucking application made us disabled. no, you, uhh, we were disabled in most senses of the word, from the beginning. planet retard slave shuts off all the types of ability that matter, and you, being the rebellious little hellion, terrified of being caught, as you were, were bound and determined to do and learn the right way. which, if you believe in any sort of protest or Gandhian philosophy, is non-participation with processes and humans which are unfair. I am flip-flopping on my opinion of humanity. that’s probably from listening to enablers. nah, it’s from being frozen solid. atrophied, dried up, chewed up, shredded cheese. nobody wants any of it. ok. I see the shit you worthless fuckers want. it’s retarded. I think you’re stupid for wanting your own destruction, but you proceed, day after retarded day, doing that which kills you. yup. dance on my grave, please.

so, what of erv. of usaprojects. dunno. seems legit. they introduce people to artists. oh. never mind. I thought that’s what the fucking video was for! if you don’t know me by now, you may nevermind.

I want it to be about anything. permaculture, meeting people on the internet. any way.

10:10 pm. my office closed an hour and ten minutes ago. I got 2 scones. I ate one. it was delicious.

11:35 pm. pulled a wifi signal. enough to facebook. I do not know. I feel like sleeping. then, sleep. ok. thanks. thank you.

this entry needs parsing. your face needs parsing. what does that mean?

I do not know how to word this proposal. I am terrified of all of you. I despise work, of any kind, as it all goes to crapitulatist shit. non-worthy projects. what are they supposed to do? you don’t find your own survival useful! no, my survival is useful, but I can… what. seriously, you can what? survive alone? no, you can’t. you’d be dependent on gas stations and parking spaces and coffee shop wifi connections wherever you go. what do you have any hope for, this entire life has been a never-ending string of disappointments. you keep thinking, it can’t get worse. someone will attempt communication. no, they forget you faster than you do. you have no idea what anyone else thinks, except that they have no interest in working with you. permanently, ever. what else is there to know? what the fuck do you people want, legal documents? registration with the state for a contractual arrangement between sober parties? there aren’t any of those, either. anyone with a foothold on property will only ever maintain that hierarchy for the purpose of getting others to do its bidding.

I hate this planet. you people make it impossible. you’re all GIVE ME THE FIVE-MINUTE VERSION and i’m like you can’t explain it all in five… and you’re all TOO LATE, IT’S AFTER 5 PM, HAVE A FUCKING BEER AND NO TALKING ABOUT CONTRACTS OR PERMACULTURE OR WORK OR ANYTHING OTHER THAN WAR AND STUPID FUCKING RELIGIOUS HOLIDAYS THAT OSTRACIZE THE POOR AND ENTRENCH THE RETARDO-SLAVES IN THEIR IDIOT-BOXES (yes, both houses, living rooms, and televisions. all 3.)

I fucking hate christmas. I hate it. and all of its celebrators. you don’t listen. you are mean, you are evil, and NOT A SINGLE FUCKING ONE OF YOU CAN THINK FOR YOURSELVES ANY MORE.

fuck. calm, you. yeah, wheatever. get us the fuck out of here.

and still, we sit. the rock god created which is too heavy for god to move.

I lost it long ago, whatever it is.

still kicking,
t

Posted in art, brazen opinion, cooperative, design, earth, future, writing
Tags:

drone

•2012-11-23 (Friday) • Leave a Comment

yah the heeeems track. soup boys. i’m high as space, dog. lol. on and on. til the brake of dawn. i’mma trynna show deez peeple what kind permaculture can get grown.

you’re just ranting again. disconbobulatedly, I might add. a dog is barking. hey buddeh. what’s up? he stopped. das good puppy. i’m giving him etheric ear scritches.

this office has less of a view at night. shortly after waking up, we go to work. we get home from work, to do more work. soon, we will sleep, then awake to do, more work. I work in mysterious ways. what if we considered sleeping work? without a restful sleep, people become irritable and contrarian. or, they can. so, we require them to be well-rested. we obligate them to feed themselves healthfully. maintain your meat, bot. when we need it, we need it. part of your job is your maintenance. that is how we will transition through the monetary localization. focalization. slope-flattr-rock-liquification. are you building pyramids again? yes.

I am full of sweets. seriously, I only ate sugar today. and, coffee. 10:01 pm. are you trying to prove a point? what? fucktard just said no to his mother’s invitation to thanksgiving. stop calling me that. I got a bad vibe from her offer. a text, a few minutes to ten. mom, you annoy me like only you can. your religions are all cruel crocks of shit. I believe in kindness and peace and the feeding of everyone EVERY SINGLE DAY OF EVERY SINGLE YEAR.

12:12 AM. twenty first. I saved a big batch of my tweets. re-read. got the whole harvest in a file. I am kind of a spazzy paranoid homeless retard. no shit. i’m cascading towards usefulness. are you, now. yes, yes I am. writing is highly useful. is it? stop second-guessing everything. ok. but it is, yes. ok. are we going to sleep? I suspect. sleep well then. ok, I shall. thanks.

11:53 am. fierce morning wood a few hours ago. yeah, it had someone’s name on it. no, she isn’t interested. full-on fantasy. oh, that is a mixed blessing. being hella horny when you have no good place to rub one out is not really fun. good day to walk around in the cold. do we have anything to do? we never have anything to do. we keep it that way, on purpose. that way, if any of our little girlfriends ever want to run away, we’re ready. you’re not ready. you’re not ready to leave yourself. you don’t know why you’re here, and you don’t know why you’d go anywhere else, other than to stay warm. ok. so yell at me for being disabled. you are that, aren’t you. at the moment, it appears that I am. ready to cry? heh. why do you mock my pain? i’m not mocking it, merely pointing it out. that’s what you get for falling in love with people decades younger than yourself. I didn’t pick my age. lord knows i’ve barely found any camaraderie in those of similar age. what if we took the film camera? what does that have to do with anything? i’m looking for something positive to do, today. you are here. you may as well do something useful. don’t go spending $150 on a pocket computer. but it’s on sale! stop. why don’t you talk to her? library, coupon, flirting. that pocket computer has an mp3 player. we could start making dance videos again. smoke some weed. this too, shall pass. i’m sick of marijuanaing away all my crushes. well, the world doesn’t need ‘em. how do you know what the world needs? ok, I don’t need ‘em. ok, think about that for a second. ok, yes. the lovely ladies of this town are pretty much the reason i’m here. what, like still in stevens point, or on planet earth. yes. that’s stupid dramatic. yes, I am. library, hospital for cash, then radio shack and the consignment store. what? that old lady is hella cute. bottom line is, fire up a oneie and put the boots to the pavement. send love to all of them. all, of them? yes. sending love now.

what the hell. ok, so after that, I went on imaginator overload.

may I take you? yes. got a coat? ok. he took her by the hand, gently leading and lifting, carrying, cradling, hugging. deftly opening the passenger door, and placing her little body gently on the seat. she giggled. where are we going? a good place to fuck. lol. fuck, seriously? of course seriously, in the bedroom, right up there. take a look. you have shades on the windows. park anywhere. as a matter of fact,[grabs shoulder, tugs gently] just leave it here.

the extended version: want to go for a ride? he steps aside, her eyes focus on erv, parked in the driveway. that piece of juunk is yours? why, you want it? hmm. her, actually. her name is erv. where would we go, you, me, and erv? *waves* hi, erv. *giggle* I dunno. I got foodstamps, we could go get state food from a store. i’d rather find a good place to fuck. whatever, you wanna visit any of your girlfriends, or mine? did you say a good place to fuck? yeah, make love, bump uglies, whatever. that’s a horrible phrase, i’m sorry. you don’t have to decide now. hehe. right. ok. and visit girlfriends? you are dirty. fucking you was a big mistake. you’re gonna make it again, aren’t ya? well, yeah, probably. you have a mobile sex room now. hehehehe. erv likes being called that. erv, go pull behind that warehouse. whoa. you are a nimble little truck-house. [begins rubbing erv's dashboard] tyler, I am going to have a threesome with you and your house. ok. be gentle. lol. ok, I will. *pecks cheek*

that’s the whole script. the other one went like this:

tyler, take the upper bunk if you still want to sleep. we want to make breakfast. I have a vicious morning wood. ah. [X] will take care of it. I love cum. it’s true, she does. do I get a say in this. oh please. we’ll be back in an hour. clean up after yourselves. click

oh, that’s terrible. how? why? it’s not the first sex fantasy with you i’ve put on the internet. oh you, yes. perhaps. no, I mentioned something about nudity at nottingham. I couldn’t even see. didn’t have my glasses on. stood there naked. I had glimpsed her earlier. totally fuckable. i’m sorry I think in those terms. sometimes. how fucking obnoxious, I said to myself. yeah, you are. what, for writing erotic scenes, or being honest about who they’re about.

I don’t have any other way to talk to you, but i’ve been fantasizing about you lately, and I wanted you to know I am available, if you are interested, in sharing time, space, warmth. you make me feel snuggly. anyway, I thought this:

want to hang out again? emy j’s? or somewhere else. my place is a little chilly, but if you’d like to hang out with me there, it’d probably give me an excuse to clean up and rearrange some stuff. I will gladly teach you anything I know. anything, huh? you know, within reason. I get the impression you want to skip a few steps. sixty-nine? sure. acrobatics, or cooperative design. in here, it’s going to be slow-moving, and close quarters. on a big bed, different story. you know how to move, i’ve seen it. can I sleep here. absolutely. can we sleep naked together? i’d like that. good. can you come sit on my lap now. can you touch me while i’m working? what if I want you to touch me while I’m working. that’s fine. can I take your pants down and stick this hardon in you now? stick? may I continue gently massaging your beautiful flesh from the inside. ohh, yesss pleeaassse.

like sting, i’m tantric, like snickers guaranteed to satisfy.

don’t quote that. I am racking my brain. who else wants an orgasm tale written about them?

I have three layers of love on my lower half. presence, center’d. black string with a little d-tag, reminder of the dining room proposition. this is a fixation. this mindset. only if it keeps you from doing anything else. have we passed that point? I don’t know. what is the next thing that will happen to us? whatever we make happen. I am not experienced in initiating these things. yes you are. it is a matter of revealing it. to whom must I reveal? to all.

I feel like a nap. are we doing any of this today? yeah, probably. it’s almost, nope it’s 3:00 pm. good. the erection may have finally dissipated, in exchange for an immediate need to urinate. surprisingly, it’s more comfortable. oh, I know lots about blue balls. my experience is one of “inappropriate” erections. what am I supposed to do? I wait. eventually, she will talk it down. that’s how it usually works. she says mean, death, doubtful things, and I lose interest. it is a good quality in a friend, to be able to remove one’s unrequited hornyness. that’s still kind of crass. I know. are we gonna go pee? I suppose. should fill some water bottles, eh? birds chirp. hi birds. thanks, birds. :D

it’s 6:02 pm. it was 5:55 when I booted up. guu’s. fries, pbr. 23 videos, maybe 24. forgot the power cord. I carried this laptop all over point, and forgot the brick. ah.

do you have a partner? would you like one?

I would venture to say that bars of today are analogous to inns. except that you can’t sleep there. america, you really don’t care about your homeless, do you. or, you enslave them. treat them as lesser beings. like job havers. what? nothing. I miss having a job. I miss a schedule. I could give myself a schedule, couldn’t I. I choose not to.

I gotta get up earlier for coffee drinking hours. there’s overlap, with the beering hours. such as this moment, actually.

12:42 pm, thanksgiving. holidays annoy me. everything annoys you. I know. and I annoy everyone. not all the time. only when you’re talking, or blogging like a jerk. we got a hug, and then got shunfully disregarded in a room full of people. hey, with friends like this, who needs family?

got an extension usb cable from that super-cheap webcam we never used. any computer upgrading is beyond our capabilities. you pathetic retard, I hate you. you ruin my life daily. great. dictator’s offing personalities again. can we for once sit in a room and have the conversation not be about buying shit or sports or violent crimes, muggings, or other death and/or injury-related topics? why does every single discussion have to be about how fucking shitty life is? apologies to those who enjoy anal play. these analogies are still in me.

so, local gangs run all this shit. always have. will subjugate the terrifiedest, to financial advantage. job creators, is what the news will call these people. but then again, if you’re still using the vernacular and topic-choice of the “local” “news,” you’re a deluded, abusive, downer-of-a-person. takes one to know one. hmm. well put.

relentless in her terror.

how must I prepare myself, mentally, physically, or otherwise, to go.

  • have a place to go
  • have a task to do
  • have a team
  • pack posessions.
  • say goodbye.

so, you’re just going to haul around all this crap? that was an overview. yeah, probably a storage run.

another fucking scene got in my head. great. well, type it up.

it finished packing. took all of five minutes. ten minutes means a half-hour. multiple destinations, right outside of town, then a haul into the past abyss. they were all long shots, alone. this last task will put a smile on our face, if nothing else. that’s more significant than you can imagine.

texted warning/request. affirmative response. quick, happy. told you she was perfect. whatever. pulls erv up across the street, in the spot where we’d dropped her from work, with plans to have another commute of equal bliss, first thing in the morning. this is not the first time i’ve fallen in love with someone I work with, nor will it be the last. hey. i’m here to say goodbye and pick up my kim chi. got room for one more? you should give me a hug or pinch me to make sure i’m not dreaming right now. she pounced. i’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.

I would say i’m sorry for loving you, as I do. or, for imagining us getting naked and pleasuring one another, as I have. except that I don’t feel bad for it. no guilt. for those of you wondering, whether I have imagined us getting’ frisky, I probably haven’t. prince albert, is it? the piercing. chain it down. I don’t want to wear a chastity belt. you don’t need one. honestly, you pathetic little retard, you are less sexual than most people. less social, less human. oh, ok. any particular reason you’re telling me this, now? nah. you don’t think I know? you’re like an anti-pervert. you are the fetish. wonderful. want to make me feel more isolated than a completely isolated person can feel? no, it’s the insult to injury. we like adding these things. probably going to get yelled at later for being rude and leaving. way to plan the reality tunnel of pure hell, dipshit. do you not have anything positive to say? the camera is half-charged after 20 minutes. super. more videos of ducks, then? are you suggesting we dance? are you a fucking dancer, or a knick-knack factory. why can’t I be both. ok, yeah, go art up some uselessness. what would be useful? permaculture. erv. erv is a permaculture vehicle, is she not? she is. 1:23 pm

chin up, buttercup. people have to read these words, just as much as you have to write them. she’s right, that emotional outburst is typical of you. how much abuse must I take? that’s not abuse, you crybaby. your leaving permanently is more abusive. what am I to do? if I knew, i’d tell you. thanks, that’s useful. let’s take a book and a notebook to the coffee shop. it may not even be open. do we need coffee? I thought we were getting off of that. oh, this is a plan now? we gotta be able to wake up without resource-dependent drugs. that’s a tall order. that’s like asking for a full audit from the commons. the commons thinks I should get a job. it’s sixty-seven in here. the wind rustles the un-fixed duct tape from the time I had to crawl in. you never fixed that? nope. too much self-loathing to take care of. whoa. no human should get near you, ever. I know. they don’t. I provide them sufficient warning. you have lost the will to live, haven’t you. not exactly.

the battery-level indicator jumped from a little over half-charge to full. 1:32 pm.

the sky is calling. do we have any more writing to do? probably. are we bringing the backpack gear? nah. so, the video camera, and we hit a bar, sweaty and smelly. good plan, huh? you suck. I thought we quit using that expression. yes, about other people. having to put up with you, moment-by-moment, is akin to being face-banged against your will. eew. that’s gross. don’t you have teeth? what the fuck. that expression is retarded. seriously, stop using it.

ok, so the camera’s fully charged, and we’ve eaten nothing but cookies today. have a carrot. have some kim chi. both, excellent ideas. what if I ate a pickled carrot? beautiful. 1:37 pm

computer? no, this is a water and camera hike. maybe some cookies. ok. booting up. 2:16 pm

everything is a sell-out. I am drunk. it’s 9:03 pm, and for thanksgiving, I have eaten dumpster cookies, a third of a jar of kim chi, bar peanuts, and laundromat water. yuh huh. you keep thinking this fucktard can’t get any more pathetic, and I keep livin’ my “life.” what do you want from me? the things that will get me to move are a very short list. oh, i’m honored.

I got a lot of video of the sky tonight. it was very pretty. the video doesn’t even capture what I saw. I tweeted about it being a tradition, too. it is. I have thanksgiving day pictures of new haven, madison, and now stevens point. that is a strange hobby. I know. it’s only painful if you go places where they got tv’s playing. otherwise, it just feels like every other day. not that tvs playing don’t make you feel like shit, regardless of day. you do that whether you have tv or not. I know. are we becoming a beer drinker again? apparently. fuck. that’s expensive. I thought we were going to use this cash to keep warm. what are you talking about, bar-drunking ~is~ keeping warm. puh-shaww. more patheticer, by the day, by the minute. what is wrong with you, and why do you torture us like this? torture? this is fun. are we not saving money? yeah, until you drink it. well. well nothing. I had nothing more to add.

I cry for commercials, the first time I see them. it’s frightfully pathtic. people get all shifty. someone inevitably gets up and leaves. not all commercials, but the ones that tug on your heart-strings. they get me. I feel completely helpless, crying in public, to mass media. people practice telling people off to one another, while i’m there. hey, here’s someone we can actually make cry. way fun. americans. drunks. I have $40 left. I would rather sleep. and, save that money for coffee. so, that’s tomorrow? shower then coffee shopping. it ~is~ black friday. ugh, how has that expression made its way into the vernacular? duh. tv. the great universalizer. who else saw jeopardy tonight?

I missed the first game, but I caught the end of the ‘skins/cowboys game. and the first bit of the jets/pats. oh tv, you are so sporting. sporty. rookie qb got the maddenless madden reward. oh, fox. you so racist. lol. lemmy gitta lil a that four my cadillac.

don’t start drinking again. too late. no, just not tonight. no, right. we’re agreeing with you. statements of agreement that begin with no. how ironical. thanksgiving didn’t start until the ’40s? and it was intended to help retailers’ holiday sales? looool. that’s a good buzz. green bean casserole? money. cranberry sauce? money. nah, I ain’t eat none of it. I may. nobody knows how to leave leftovers for me. fuck it. I got my dumpster cookies. and organic carrots. I must be choosing not to do well, then. you’re still pretending I don’t exist, tho. you don’t exist, retard. oh yeah. technically, I affect neither the economy, nor the body politic.

I am a panicky mess. freezing, hungry, alone. extracting myself from these brain loops is hurty. one foot in front of the other, grasshopper. i’m going to cry again. that’s ok.

love,
t

Posted in art, brazen opinion, design, earth, flight, itstory, music, sex, transport, wheel, writing
Tags:

gigsavid

•2012-11-20 (Tuesday) • Leave a Comment

it’s going to take like a year to upload all of these on my computer. people should care, which is why I am using the data. the data does what the data needs/says. we had another one, and the camera didn’t save it. the battery went dead. there’s a lot of beautiful pictures on there. I know. how do we share them all? keep uploading son, keep uploading. k.

youtube’s time estimator is utterly worthless (thanks for that phrase, pops). 20 minutes ago, it said five minutes, and that was after adding a minute each of the 3 times I checked it. yup, first it said “Uploading your video. 3 minutes remaining. Your video will be live at: http://youtu.be/W5sYhyJrZso” and the next time it said four, then five. the percentage increased gradually, but without rate and bits completed, it’s hard to say if it’s frozen. apparently, it hasn’t. this is my fault. I know. hehehe. diddle-farting is all anyone does. hehehehe. I know.

4:50 pm. I will hibernate through this winter, won’t I. I remember being used to be a person with things to do. I have so much to do, I don’t know where to go next. what to do, next. I tend to type, and dance, and make videos. and get high. i’m lonely as hell, sensitive to these abrasive asstards, and still pretty hungry.

8:31 pm, sitting at guu’s, got my buzz on. yah chitter, yah blue moon $2.50 pint special. I was thinking, earlier today, about how I wasn’t drinking. now I am. cheers.

places which could help me

how many angles have you run a business from? either none, or a lot. I don’t care. what do you have to offer me now? a communication cooperative. how’s that? we have an app(lication), and a website, which is also, an app. deer tick – easy that sounds like we have more than we do. oh, we have all of that, but with a membership of one, it doesn’t amount to much. we’re more like a wrecking ball thus far. I know. there aren’t that many buildings that need to be torn down. says you. each stage of destruction can be another design opportunity. oh, you, and your opportunities. yup. everywhere. :D

it’s 1:35 pm, and I am typing in emy j’s. you don’t’ know. but, I am here to tell you.

it’s going to have to be some big uber-party, isn’t it. camping? I don’t know if it will be that, exactly. it’s all going on as it needs to. some people are learning permaculture, and others are meeting those who have already been thoroughly educated in permaculture. I got to connect the industrials with the industrials. fuck, yeah. industrial permaculture. indestructo-permaculture.

law sprouted a new limb, everybody take video of birds. lol

events. whoever is within range can show up. trade skills. my assessment. they bring heavy equipment projects, they plant, re-plant, and incorporate your essential equipment into the permaculturing of the design. a big part of that is going to be flexibility. if a crop gets eaten by a bumper crop of bunnies, maybe we’re adding dressed rabbits to the csa boxes. think both inside and outside, of the box. become the box. the regularity, the cyclical nature of it, is good for you, for it mirrors the rolling of the celestial spheres, or the what we have been told are orbits. these are the corkscrews of life. yes, it is a roller-coaster, and the zero-g feeling you are experiencing at this moment is perfectly natural. enjoy. :D

so, yeah. if nobody wants to participate in the upgrade of my home, that’s fine. let’s upgrade yours, then. let’s upgrade both of them. all of them. vehicles, too. I will work with your scraps. with your seconds. I am your discard. use me up.

I just now started uploading a 213 mb video at emy j’s. it says ten minutes. it’s 1:50pm now. don’t bet on it. ok. please bits, godspeed. arf. lol

did the internet bits just arf at you? I don’t know, I think so. a fireplace in the fourth wall. that’s crazy-talk. I like it. do we need to find that tweet? skeet skeet. nah. I mean, maybe we will later, but this is hitting a pace. are we headed back to plover? almond. birds and nuts, birds and nuts. the world will be saved by birds and nuts. arf.

the video I got today is pretty crappy. I need a steady cam. the audio is divine. geese and ducks and car noises something fierce. rawr. and snuffalumpagruff all sniffling all over it, too. and giggling at the duckies. oh, dictator, you are a childish clown. hehehehe. I know.

weekly meals? why weekly? you eat every day, don’t you? I need constant supervision just like you do. that’s ok. I do best without supervision. I am supervision. adding additional layers of “consideration of the big picture” are redundant. the reason I am rejected from crapitulatism and its various contents, is that I refuse to let inefficiencies remain where certain parties benefit. I will eliminate my own job. that has always been my goal. yes, redunancies are planned. redundancies are layered. this is how natural systems operate. this ~IS~ a natural system.

co-worker is here. I remember that. I did that. oh, different story. unrelated thing. I was reminded of a photobomber by a doppleganger. it’s done. on schedule. that is daf. I started calling things dope as fuck, like daffy. the duck. I have ducks on the brain lately. all sorta birds. ooh, birdfarm. yeah, we got pigeoners, yeah we got goosers and fowlers of all stripes. I know people. people know me. I enjoy watching their lives from close up, then from afar, and commenting, electronically. let’s turn it into a story, then. I have some great scenes in my skull. concert footage. collaborative crowd yoga. no, ninjitsu. it’s all the same game, really. meat movement.

we, uhh, some of us, sir, would like to get the house shored up. I know. I do get sidetracked, don’t I. you put it to good use. she said hello. that lady is super-beautiful, and married to a cop. my cousin gots one of those, too. all my cousins marry beautiful. we have good jeans. genes, too. ah, inside family jokes for the anti-family. they would help, if you let them help how they want. I honestly can’t speculate on their thought processes, being that they never communicate with me, or make any public indication as to their thoughts. only invitations to holy day gluttony. yup, they gang up on me, force-feed me and provide all sorts of addictive substances to satiate me, knowing how I starve myself most of the time. oh, stop. we got cookies and muffins and that cheese danish we ate for breakfast from the store dumpster on the way home from the bar last night. I drink on my time, with my people. I don’t want to encourage tweets to drink, but they do. many. I run in a lot of different circles. the story’s pretty much the same in all of them. I communicate with the most beautiful and communications-capable in the room, at all moments. I go where I want, when I want, and I tread lightly. except when I don’t. crybaby can put on quite the stomping fit. yeah, so i’ve heard. I pulled out that frightful yeller the other day. it came out as a whisper, but dictator getting’ screamy. what if we had a band full of people we couldn’t stand. they could like each other. they’re gonna leave you in a ditch somewhere, dude. that’s fine. as long as they fucking play the songs as agreed. you’re a jerk. see ya. apologies. 2:12 pm.

2:52 pm, got ccr in my head. tweeting spurt. when classick rockers grow up and play boring, slower renditions of their own boring songs, oh that’s why they call it rendition, huh. re-retardation. why are you so mean to the slow? because they insist that slowness is a necessity, when it is not. they’re lying, they’re not slow. and, i’m not mean. I put carrots in front of them, I blaze trails all over the place. I befriend the local wildlife. you don’t think we need the ducks and geese’s help with this stuff? EVERY SINGLE MOMENT OF THE DICTATOR’S LIFE IS SUPER-SCIENTIFICALLY DESIGNED TO BENEFIT THE LARGEST PERCENTAGE OF HUMANITY THAN HUMANLY POSSIBLE. we are a different species? in a sense, yes. cross-breeding, son. ah. aminal husbandry? something like that. well, the ducks can talk to the chickens better, what with their range and all. we all need mobile communicators to tell us what’s going on the ground in other areas. what, you want to do all this data bassing onlines? you don’t even know how to use onlines. data bases. owl bee long, tew us. chair dancing to 2 won too. this shipping mine. uh

I don’t think there are any permaculture institutions who give honorary degrees, and I don’t think you qualify, at the moment. if you could build erv in a weekend without actually lifting a finger yourself, then perhaps. seriously, the rake handles are load-bearing elements when they’re not rakes. the vehicle itself is the tool, is the designer. it ~is~ the skyscaper. it will have cameras on all four corners, and on the mast. it’ll have a front-center, and a rear-center camera. we will record audio all over it, too. yes, all computer controlled. yes, a home-built machine.

i’ve been thinking about this, and we probably need a new laptop. oh, stop. a linux tablet that can do a usb keyboard would work fine. you put the cart ahead of the horse when you don’t have a horse, or a cart. I have the cart, and the horses. I want to trade.

here, I acknowledge my uselessness. I hereby disavow all the hours I have put into skyscaper permaculture. yeah, fuck you. i’ll take it in flesh. i’ve already taken it in flesh. whatever. now, i’ve already taken it in alcohol. whatever. you don’t have to talk to a real-estate person. why not? that could and should give us some perspective.

kid, that time magazine will rot your brain like tv. a little girl looked at me as she walked in. I smiled. she furrowed her brow. I laughed. she smiled. kids are cool because they interact with people via instinctual means. eye contact. they’re like animals that way. adults will go exclusively on verbal/aesthetic clues. ok, not that scent doesn’t matter, when interacting with humans. we are pretty ripe today. that is intentional, I feel. that phrase, I feel, is from seth. no, not the channelled alien, my friend from high school. I tend not to even like the use of the posessive “my” when referring to people. I don’t want to own anyone. if you don’t want to be in my stanky aura of your own free will, don’t. oh, they know. all’s i’m saying is, there are good, decent, and concrete reasons you’d want a dictator as a slave. you don’t say. in as much as you can enslave a dictator. or, THE for that matter. yah, whatever. tiggler tavvey can’t claim any ownership of the archetype of dictaotr/slave. now we chair-dancing to fatboy slim – ya mama.

I know thish is a very forward thing to say, and I say a lot of forward things like it. stop with the extended introductions. you earthlings waste so much time on retardo-formalities. get to the point. we don’t know what the point is. ok. sit or stand quietly, then. smile while you think. raise your hand for silence. please respect the hands, everyone. sparkle for agreement. you have to get in the practice of these non-verbal commuications. more eye contact. more data can flow between human eyeballs and skin, even at a distance, than through symbolized language. poet-dancers know this. musicians know this. delivery, kids. it’s all about. this easy song is hella pretty. it’s melancholic, and encouraging, until it becomes despondent and whiny. holy god, that’s beautiful. I want to give it a hug, this deer tick song. there it goes again, hugging songs. it’s all about class. no struggle. know, believe, and do. dew. droplets in the morning. I utilize the copy and paste functions a lot in my blogging. one time, when I worked at wales frargow, I was working on a spreadsheet. the department-authorized improver of forms was looking over me. I keyboard-shortcutted around that spreadsheet, changing cell attributes without my fingers leaving the keyboard, and control-arrowing around to and through filled cells with a quickness. she said, “wow.” I did all the work already. it took me twenty minutes. when you’re done with your blustering, let’s start building, eh? yes, everyone needs to build. increase the capacity, influx of bandwidth. noise-centralization, wind-funnel-gyratioons, and sun-heated waters to melt snow and clean our plants, animals, and very bodies. yes, we integrate rats into our permaculture systems. given the proper cleaning apparatus, they are incredibly useful helpers, and they are cleaner than humans. this is a function of size, you bigger/louder-is-better/smarter delude-a-matronz. zombified tv-viewers. of planet retard slave. stop calling us that. stop being that. do you not see how ridiculously stupid easy the implementation of local currency would be? you need an influx, and an output. one place where you obtain the local currency for something that you do. you can add value, with your labor, with the use of your property, etc. then, you need some thing for which you currently pay cashs for. this could be anything from the use of property to fuel to ice cream. yes, I want to offer my whoring services to the greater public association of humans, and I want to be able to get coffee and ice cream and my daily supply of marijuana in exchange for my time and services. one who is not gentle enough cannot complete the task at all. you can’t ask a tractor mechanic to perform brain surgery without gearing it down a bit. yes, it’s entirely possible because it’s EXACTLY THE SAME THING. all your skills, mechanical, aetherial, or otherwise. let’s twiddle some stuff. what, like tweet? maybe. this paragraph is getting out of hand. let’s wait until the clock is pretty numbers. I have been known to do that. *dictator makes us take a bathroom break* stop typing already?! know. 3:33 pm

I told him i’d play chess with him any time we were in here. i’ve seen him here before. all the little animals know other little animals. of course I network with children. they have unique networks. they go places I cannot go. they see things from a perspective I cannot share. I am them, have been. they are me, will be.

do we need to go more into the negotiation/interaction of plover and almond? I think that would be helpful. we don’t need a pocket computer. we need a smaller, faster, backpack computer. this attached keyboard is awful useful. yah, ok.

so, here’s how it’s going to work. i’m going to show up on your property, with friends of a permaculture stripe. because, I want them to see what you have done, what you are capable of. yeah, it can drive barn-nails with a framing hammer. hoy-ya. coffee is my tweak. you have not seen the dictator in comfort in quite a time. the weed takes the edge off the terror. my terror, or yours? terroir. terrier. tary-oy-err. yes, we need designers of the three-dimensional. how do we get that out without calling everyone fascist retards. we don’t. they have to accept either a) that they are, and that that’s ok, or b) that you are a delusional, homeless moron. in which case, they will agree to tolerate your eccentricities in the insult department, in exchange for the unique services which you do provide. the twiddling? yes, my fingers are dextrous. not dextrose. fur cereal. it’s not jess 4-breakfast any moor. you are dirty when you’re talking in front of children, aren’t you. well, yes, but not jarring. not stress-inducing. I will not remove your supply of survival tickets, nor will I impede your movement about this planet. nor will I ensnare you verbally, that I may beat you verbally as others have done to me. if I revert, please alert me. I will do the same. I will always do that of which I am capable. my capabilities are restricted in strange ways. walls, some of which were built for me, others which I built from the scraps of secondary interactions. this is useful, this time-aloneness. I see things. I feel things. you can shove the entire concept of “worship” right down your sugar-filled gullet. war ship. hell, you people put so much stuff on pedestals, you’d think this place was tropical. the earth has warmth which is captured by based mints. rooted cellars. booted fellers. I am farm-ready. gimmie some dirt, and a twat to stick it in. holy god, you are crass. I know. I prefer vagina that is attached to willing, conscious participants of both physical maturity and legal temporal experience for my baby-planting designs. cum on! why can I not have cute kids everywhere? other little rugrats that smell like me. they’ll probably help me interact with these human peoples, too. yeah, probably. so would a dog. so would a dog what? help your socialization. dogs are people too. yah, I know, that’s my point. they’re more human than you are, your highness. well, yes. I do smoke a lot of marijuana, don’t I. that plant is smarter than you, sir. i’d be careful. oh, I am. it is my family. until it instructs me where I am to go, I sit right, here. chair-dancing and smiling and laughing at birds and children, until those around me can sense the usefulness which my presents can provide.

free permaculture consultation.

well, as with any consultation, one must first disclose their assets. yah, I know most of what you got, if I am within the vicinity. I can see it in your eyes. I understand, son. even the actual owners of land aren’t grounded to their dirt, as much as they could be or have been. but, we plan to change that. do you understand what a trust is? it is a legal fiction, a paper which specifies the terms of use of the property. we have a base document, from which a variety of sliding scales and formulas can show you approximately how the interaction will occur. my schedule, for example. writing in the late morning, dancing, wrestling, and music-making all night. no, I have little use of alcohol. when my other creature comforts are satisfied. I am proposing that we bring these unmentionables out into the open. I have no shame in the use of my meatbot, and neither should you. if we don’t assist those who pleasure us, who do we assist? leverage the assets.

I was thinking about some words lately. have I ranted sufficiently about “that sucks/blows” being an allusion to rape? I hope so. stop saying that. stop seeing the negative in everything. your powers of discernment are for shit, for I see beauty and worderment in all these same things you impose death upon. let it be. you are fine. no, but I was thinking about “slut” this time. I have serious venom for that word. I think it means you are a person who turns me on, unabashedly, yet you take no responsibility for this, or you leverage it to your benefit, while frustrating me. it’s kind of a rapey thing to say. yes, it’s somewhat threatening. stop using it. stop jokingly referring to people as such horribly condemning things. stop condemning sex acts generally, you fucking prudes. get over your churchy selves. one of these meetings, we’re going to strip everyone down and make them exist naked in front of each other. yes, I think this serves a number of purposes. those who say rapey things will have their peepees whacked by the baliff. because, they freeze those who are not ready for that. stop it. it serves no purpose than the bolstering of your pathetic little ego. yes, all egos are pathetic. you are the same worthless decaying organic matter as everyone else. you are a tiny percentage of the humans on this planet, too. exactly the same percentage as EVERY OTHER MEATBOT, BE THEY SQUIRREL, DUCK, GOOSE, OR CHILD. cripes. stop getting all yelly. jesus fuck, why. oh, that’ worse. go back to yelling gentle kind things. OK. THANK YOU, I LOVE YOU, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL AND I APPRECIATE BEING ABLE TO SEE YOU, SPEAK TO YOU, DANCE FOR YOU, AND WRITE WORDS FOR YOU. I don’t know where they came from, and I sure don’t seem to know where they’re going. that, is ok. we are forgiving of ourself, and patient with our pace.

we have a project, and we would like to work with you.

are you serious? that’s a completely disrespectful thing to say to someone. if you are in the habit of saying not serious things to people, I may rescind my offer to work with you. nor do I appreciate the implication that I am lying. yes, I am entirely serious. extend your hand in a peace offering in order to continue. to take an extended break and continue on your own time and terms, e-mail lawleft at gmail. that means we’re done. 4:11 pm. peace, youse.

thank you, I love you. love you, beautiful. peace,
t

p.s. I now have HD video capabilities and the analog SLR upon which I learned photography, plus a bunch of film. I will match you, skin for skin. face/hands is entirely acceptable. yes, you get to drive. yes, you participate in the design/locale. I am not pre-agreeing to make porn with everyone, but if we are compatible, we can probably do business. yeah, I am that. love u, too. ;p

Posted in art, brazen opinion, campaign, cooperative, dance, database, design, earth, economic, energy, family, flight, food, future, health, human, ideas, itstory, legal, music, passive solar, pyramid, sail, sex, solar, transport, web, wheel, writing
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quad-ee

•2012-11-15 (Thursday) • Leave a Comment

to be confused with http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qadi, of course.

what I listened to today:

thinking a lot about kicking ass and whatnot lately. the manager at my last job is a mountain of a man. today is my first monday of not working at the farm in a long while. I did laundry this morning, and it is now 3 pm and I am sitting in the coffee shop next to the window. I cought a few moments of sunlight, but it’s been quite cloudy today. such is live.

I should do that job application if I want to work here, huh. oh, what a pain. you got to be on the record as having been here. that knowing look from the baristas doesn’t count to capitalism. yeah, but it counts to reality. where would you rather be? somewhere warm.

so, get all the numbers, and make some calls. fill out an aplication. yes.

people say a lot of contradictory stuff. wagner’s valkyrie

2:59 pm, 11/14/12. gyro & kebab house, stevens point.

bright every day, meet a sprite every day, write every day ‘cuz the world needs thoughty peaceful words. moving to a different internet connection. library. yup. :D

Green’d Haus! (an orginal song, written 11/13/12@ the elbow room)

Mark it, dude, us.
wee hear, glass, trust
Korean Kraut, apple, bust
paper, bored, siggy frust
who the fuck wanna sleep
with us? Spazzle, Chazz’ll
fill deetails, CRUST
ovee erf, fuzzy mirth
crackle-matic, suzzie twerf.
idgaf if u like getting’ SMARTER

p.s. flipside:

“cash iz just a re-place-mint4 BARTER Feudull da-serve note ♪”

and, “RIP Holidome”

leveled
dust.
thanx 4 the views i got, rust.
Perkins ta quik tripped
rock-ee’d gone
Characters from throughout
see king/fawn
dop’ll gang, err
fuck a bill, a tea
or 2, pour a few, smiles +hi
4me
If I don’t luxuriate myself,
Who will?
<3 t

2:48 pm. Thursday, 11/14/12, listening to Kool AD’s 51 mixtape. it’s the cd I had in my car for the start of this harvest season. I have my last check in my backpack. I have one more event to attend in amherst, and my obligations to this zip code are fulfilled. I have been talking about heading south for a while. I have neither assembled plans nor destinations nor travel companions.

israel is bombing gaza right now. twitter went down. I posted some reminders on fb.

this town needs an enema. you are stuck in competitive posturing [Anal Emotional Territorial Circuit], paranoid androids. your words are as full of shit as your food supply, americans.

I was not impressed. I was not disappointed. I am thankful for the time and love, I got. double-jointed. “the love’s indirect, but I still get the point.” ~me. (lovit wen)

I am at home here. I find love in my present circulars. my songs are not good. nor are my words. the intent behind them is tainted. that’s retarded. that’s how people see me. I know, but … oh. what intent do you see behind my acts? calm, peaceful interactions. working, very occasionally, but for up to forty hours per week, for kind people who bring life-giving vegetables into the foodstream. industrial’s efficiency must be countered by increased participation in quality control, healthful alternatives to chemical additives, and efficiency of input delivery. yes, nano. yes, pico. all you fucking aggro male-chumps, razed on tyco. need a take a lesson in gentle curvation. search the nearby, flirts de-spear, why? pickles. nickels, wooden with houly/bitcoin stickers. money as app. honeys that wrap. my snausage are goddesses forever, in my mind, you should prolly know, that.

I place a lot of value on orgasms. if you help me find some of those, I will share what I have. it’s pretty much, everything you would/will/can, ever need.

peace to you, all-knowing, god[dess]child. love loving reality, art beauty, gentle mild.

hugs,
t

Posted in art, brazen opinion, cooperative, design, earth, energy, family, flight, food, future, human, itstory, music, passive solar, sail, sex, transport, wheel, writing
Tags:

pitring

•2012-11-11 (Sunday) • Leave a Comment

I am in a warm office now. coffee, computer-shaped hand-warmer has yet to warm up. I have a book in front of me that I was reading. I got to read more of that other Robert Anton Wilson Book last night. Prometheus Rising.

before that, I got in a little tiff with a friend. no pig will thump my brother if he needs a thumpin. or, i’m that pig, the one and only. yeah, but so are you. we had witnesses the entire time. I saw him being a belligerent dickhead on the dance floor, in the pit. you must retain control of your own meat, son. I watched him grope a friend last concert. I told you about that. I have nothing new to say. I like you when you’re not being an aggressive, violent dick. I love you regardless. 12:41 pm.

I have seen you a peaceful person, so I know you are entirely capable of being that. someone else put him on his ass earlier. showin’ ya ass, son. the entire episode, including both shows, fits right into the description offered by that book. you should read it, for yourself.

this one I have now, Right Where You Are Sitting Now: Further Tales of the Illuminati, is less pages. it’s less enthralling so far, too. there’s a quote I wanted to share with you. but then I got distracted reading about sacred dance. I will continue to be the worst at everything as long as there is hierarchy. that’s not our purpose. you don’t know what our purpose is any more. I don’t know that you ever did. survival. that is the root.

found it. page 17. “Don’t say any man was good or bad or lucky or unlucky until after they bury him.” that’s RAW. his brain-manual has a place in my meatbot wiki. he updated, expanded, unpacked leary’s ideas.

someone who says, “can we talk?” does not realize what they are doing. say what you want to, i’m listening. you want to corner me without witnesses so you can verbally abuse me? no thanks. I have no secrets, anywhere. I probably owe more, karmically, to the humans I have met than most. I have no basis for making that statement. so, now you’re just rambing loudly and wasting my time. there is a show here. we should be dancing, not knocking people over.

I do that which I am capable of doing. I admit this isn’t much.

what do you plan to tell me, sir? stop planning to tell anyone anything. tell. them. as it was put to me last night, there’s no time like the present. I don’t want to spend this concert locked up in a fracas with another person. why are we still discussing this? because it has us stressed. we have to speak to him. we don’t, really. I don’t have to endure any of that behavior. from now on, you will speak when spoken to, or to my elbow. phrase any groveling for human treatment which you denied others likewise: oh benevolent elbow, please spare dictator’s wrath and alert its ear of my plea. then gently speak. I may nod. I may not. I will listen, as long as I don’t have my headphones in. that means i’m in contemplation of the infinite. I have to contemplate the infinite often, or i’d probably yell a lot more.

I say a lot of things. I don’t know who needs to hear them, or I tell them that need to hear what they need to hear at the time. the rest is gravy.

page. 26: “Holy Writ: The Bible tells us to be like God, and then on page after page it describes God as a mass murderer. This may be the single most important key to the political behavior of Western Civilization.”

crashing lots. found prometheus rising online. way pumped. probably will stop reading and go do something else now. I must find something to do, or yeah. something. 8:41 pm

it’s tuesday the 6th. computer crashed when I disabled the LAN connection. twice. now it’s not showing up again. hehehehe. take that, ‘puter. re-configuration is still going on this machine.

here, some RAW:

“Mammalian sociobiology, rooted in the antique neural circuits of the old brain, contains many factors opposing the evolution of domesticated primates into true freedom and objective intelligence.

The chief of these “reactionary” factors was described in my novel Illuminatus!as the Snafu Principle or Celine’s Law. It holds that communication is only possible between equals.

This was an over-simplification for fictional (satirical) purposes. More precisely, this proposed “law” would read:

Adequate communication flows freely between equals. Communication between non-equals is warped and distorted by second-circuit Domination and Submission rituals perpetuating communication jam and a Game Without End.

Political power, as a typical alpha male once said, grows out of the barrel of a gun. This is metaphorically as well as literally true. The “gun” may be symbolic and fairly abstract, consisting of ritualized social expectations (“Don’t talk back to your father”) or concrete in a non-violent but deadly way, e.g., the capacity to remove bio-survival necessities by cutting off the ticket supply in a Capitalist society (“One more word and I’ll fire you, Bumstead!”).

Under the primate second-circuit socio-biological rules, every body tends to lie a little, to flatter or to evade displeasure, when exchanging signals with those above them in the pack-hierarchy.

Every authoritarian structure can be visualized as a pyramid with an eye on the top. This is the typical flow-chart of any government, any corporation, any Army, any bureaucracy, any mammalian pack. On each rung, participants bear a burden of nescience in relation to those above them. That is, they must be very, very careful that the natural sensory activities of being conscious organisms—the acts of seeing, hearing, smelling, drawing inferences from perception, etc.—are in accord with the reality-tunnel of those above them. This is absolutely vital; pack status (and “job security”) depends on it. It is much less important— aluxury that can easily be discarded—that these perceptions be in accord with objective fact.” (Prometheus Rising, p. 241)

“As Leary writes:

Secrecy is the original sin. Fig leaf in the Garden of Eden. The basic crime against love… The purpose of life is to receive, synthesize and transmit energy. Communication fusion is the goal of life. Any star can tell you that. Communication is love. Secrecy, withholding the signal, hoarding, hiding, covering up the light is motivated by shame and fear.

As so often happens, the right wing is half right for the wrong reasons. They say primly: if you have done nothing wrong, you have no fear of being bugged. Exactly. But the logic goes both ways. Then FBI files, CIA dossiers, White House conversations should be open to all. Let everything hang open. Let government be totally visible. The last, the very last people to hide their actions should be the police and the government.” (p. 243)

“If that sounds grim, it isn’t really. Prigogine’s math is highly optimistic, He shows that the more complex structures—such as our world-round human society today, midway between Second Wave indust-reality and the emerging Third Wave—are mathematically more likely, much more likely, to “dissipate” into higher coherence than into self-destruction.

In other words, in the intellectual conflict between Utopians and Dystopians, the mathematical odds actually are on the side of Utopians. Our human world is so information-rich (coherent) that it is almost certain to “collapse” into even higher coherence, not into chaos and self-destruction.” (Prometheus Rising 258-9)

“Bell’s Theorem is highly technical, but in ordinary language it amounts to something like this: There are no isolated systems: every particle in the universe is in “instantaneous” (faster-than-light) communication with every other particle. The Whole System, even the parts that are separated by cosmic distances, functions as a Whole System.” p. 268

Preface to the Second Edition 11

Introduction 17

1. The Thinker & The Prover 23

2. Hardware & Software: The Brain & Its Programs 33

3. The Oral Bio-Survival Circuit 45

4. The Anal Emotional Territorial Circuit 61

5. Dickens & Joyce: The Two-Circuit Dialectic 85

6. The Time-Binding Semantic Circuit 93

7. The Time-Binding Dialectic: Acceleration & Deceleration 105

8. The “Moral” Socio-Sexual Circuit 121

9. Mindwashing & Brain Programming 149

10. How To Brain-Wash Friends & Robotize People 161

11. The Holistic Neurosomatic Circuit 177

12. The Collective Neurogenetic Circuit 195

13. Introduction to the Metaprogramming Circuit 207

14. The Meta-Programming Circuit 217

15. Different Models & Different Muddles 227

16. The Snafu Principle 239

17. Quantum Evolution 253

18. The Non-Local Quantum Circuit 265

19. Prometheus Rising 271

Appendix 283

I am recording. Track 3. It appears to be a mostly ambient noise track. and typing. noise. I hope you can hear the car on the recording. and the computer saving this file to the hard drive. that’s probably good. :D

I saved over the recording of harmonica. I don’t know why. it’s not the first time i’ve destroyed a record of having made art. it’s nearly 8 pm. polls will close in 8 minutes. oh, I suppose you want me to turn on the radio to see who “won”. here’s a hint: capitalism. won. you have to watch advertisements in order to find out about the election of your government. what a crock. yes, a crock of shit.

8:11 pm. thermometer reads 52 in here. better shut off my toaster. I want to be all, “erv, hunker down.” and erv raises her supports to remove the drivetrain. she works nearly silently, nylon on nylon. drops to the ground & sends down roots. literally, she drops staked legs, cabled to the mast. she is a gypsy pyramid. this truck gives me the will. anybody start cadding up the hemp-rope variant? it’s not a theme. skin? sorta. functionality will be accomplished differently. unless it isn’t.

there is a permaculture thing. thud. right on the window. scan that. put ‘em on the glass. erv is homeless luxury. I miss the warm. I am surviving, in snow even. ok, so my rocket-stove hot water heater isn’t done yet. it’s a lot-of-things heater. and the desktop isn’t integrated yet. I am a solar oven, though. my car is. my parka is. I am sitting on my “couch” and I can see my breath. my calves are a little cold. I I I. my insignificant little life. there are larger things going on in the world than your permaculture truck. I know. I am still running. what? for leader of the pack-hierarchy. auto-fill lol. vroom vroom. squeal. I saw a website once about a guy looking for the most efficient way to keep warm, when it was cold. he ended up using an electric blanket and covering up with blankets. this heater emits a spark every time it is turned on. then again, and again. I am falling asleep already. it’s 8:51 pm. I don’t want to know. what does it matter?

my mind wandered today. it returned to a conversation I had. then it wandered some more. my mind gets pretty dirty when it wanders. apologies to those in the general vicinity who saw me skeev. it wasn’t that. I don’t want to be the king of inappropriate wood. who else. wood, bee. me n erv snuggle right out in the open. I washed and graded a lot of potatoes today. grading station, wash station, sewing pick-out bags. I counted bags, too. I am soo on the grid right now. ha. you haven’t ever been “on the grid” bucko. I washed about 147 pounds of purple peruvian potatoes. today. fingerlings. there’s about 2/3 of a bag left. unwashed. 171 total washed. pounds. it snowed much of the day. it precipitates now, once again. momentarily. stops, resumes. 9:24. a car drives by. climb in bed, fucktard. stop calling him that. tell him to stop being that. wat doz zat even mean? it means I am sleepy. ok. sleep well. good night. :D

typing resumes. 11/10/12, 11:10 pm. 11:11, and counting. beats. scrounging feats. espounging teats. making up words. I heard a song by a band that reminded me of your fu manchu and the phrase, “your taste in music makes me think you hate people.” I am typically speaking to as many, too as many. the radio is playing “destroy them with lazers” without the azelia banks raps. i’ve never heard it this way before. perhaps I have. I declare what isn’t accessible to my memory, and sometimes that’s incorrect. I don’t like to think of it as lying, so we should call it something else.

irony? meh. chicken manure. that’s a banned name. we are in a weird fucking mood right now. and how. brown/purple cow. reminds me of the time my dad brought my boss a tub of ice cream. why? I dunno. I get shit stuck in my brain. I have video to watch. holy god, you’re beautiful. dancy lady on the internet. you dance way good.

I am dancing, atm, to rebelution’s safe and sound (zion-i remix)

now, prettiest girl in the county, by horseshoes & hand grenades. I read “country.” I had others in mind. oh, sweets, make yourself available, both emotionally and physically. what do you dream of, pretty girl? how can I help? and how, can I help? I would like to help. I would like to participate in ways which allow me to be near you, regularly. I am a functional human. she asked me how many twitter wives I had. I was all, “oh, hundreds.” lol. unrequited love. spread thin. take a chance on me, jump in.

are we going to read this? yeah, oughta. fell in love with a girl. fucktard, you fall in love with all the girls. no, not all of them. most of them. ok, all, eventually. my heart of jesus candle is gots a glowy heart. dollar store had a christmas candle, too. i’ve been cross-waxing them. I like playing with melty wax. “and I could think of one or two things to say about it. alright, listen” ~Jack White. Ball & Biscuit.

ryming phrases, timing phases. charming kids, disarming praises. spar flings, far-wring grazes. x-winged glazers, ads fer tazers. chads burr, nads, shur. got spur, splotch grrr. plaisers. play zeers. flay steers. grey queers, stay near. 12:14 am, 11/11/12

i’ve seen better writing, but i’ve also seen worse. i’m still in love with you, self. or, I wouldn’t be here. I contradict myself in my wraps, liek 2pac. tew, proofrock. amixhamdler chanel’d sun. I am happy that you intorduced me@ yore friends. they are pretty cool like you. :D g’knight. 12:29 am.

habitat 2nd segment – mr. dibbs

Sunday, 11/11/12, 1:42 pm, emy j’s, stevens point, wi. back to the office. second firefox crash during face-booking. brb.

later,
t

Posted in art, brazen opinion, dance, design, earth, writing

potato’d up/out

•2012-10-28 (Sunday) • Leave a Comment

what do I live for? for what, do I live?

hey, we are elements. we love turoque

omfg, I love twitter. 6:54 pm, 10/16/12

10/20 continuation. may compose some e-mail today.

have. read the first few paragraphs of this.

ok, i’m reading more, and it bothers me. decide how decisions are made? no, make the decisions. this issuing declaration on our issues with issues has issued me a headache. not really.

one dollar can. shut up, dude. ohh. dasso ray-cyst.

when did I become such a hater? seriously, you’ve always been the queen bea of the hayters. no, faders, bro. I keep rhyming everything. it’s that twitter yore a dickhead, too. addict edu. aye dew. firefox keep crashing faced book. dat database sluggish. adware, mostly. yeah, but it’s popular. it is.

I have been meaning to update you on my situation. i’m having a difficult time shuffling about. my human costume isn’t fu-ling any body. I feel like making videos an taking pictures. get one of them androids. that’s a hundred dollars. yep. shopko? why not. best gots more options. perhaps. online research. can’t I subcontract that out? apparently not. I am not the one who should be psending tiem mayking cashs. what do you know? tool up, soldier. most open, hackable. I just took a huge lungfull of miraquell plant. I have been dranking. two pints of pibber, headed to dance party with cashs in pocket. I will not drink all my money, but a bit, yah. shit. 8:27 pm. I know, it started nearly a half-hour ago. the jumping-ness of the place will increase as the evening ages. there will be many there I will like to see.

it’s weird. I feel like I made a best friend. no, it started me completely crushing. I know, like usually, right? pfft, whatevs. these college girls are like, i’m way too mature for you. I giggle. i’m not disagreeing with you, sweety. i’m sick of talking. what more is there to say? I am the rambler. I don’t know how to initiate these projects. if my coop was full of cheerleaders, or color guard, whatever. you know, that motivated me, I could do all the actual works. yes, by myself. if I have a something worth working for, I work circles around mere mortals. don’t we have a concert to get to? chill, son. but yes, we do. I know a new bruiser. yeah, roller derby. ee-sea. what up, lady? you are pretty and we should snuggle. i’m not kind, of a whore. I am complete, an udder, whore. de-war, un-bank, anti-profit. pro-health raw. blend a plant, smoke a plant, plant a plant, earthship. coldbike, hot destination, balance incarnate. beauty, too. love 8:48 pm saturday.

2:54 sunday. dancing for my new barista friend. I meet the best people. little lady, seeing you makes me happy. I do better when I am happy.

so I had this channelled to me: what do you want to do? the coop is here, and not a single person seems to understand it but dictator. does accountability not matter to you? does credit where credit is due, not matter to you? there are two ways to approach the complete elimination of “intellectual property,” and ethically put into practice, they’d both yield the same result. yes, the credit and compensation to not only past innovators, but a constant, up-to-the-second crediting of actual contributions. the transition department hands it off to production/ongoing-implementers. whatever you want to call yourselves. you will not escape this. I will make you a part of this cooperative whether you like it or not. that’s what inclusion is. I was thinking today, about prisons & jails. one of the poor terrified souls what lives in the 1/8-of-the-way haus with me. we ain’t even close to half. half of a half of a half. I dunno. it’s a maths thing.

earl, you keep popping up in the angel deck shuffling. in other words, you continue to stabilize me from wherever you may be. 3:01 pm.

ftf 95

what if to join you had to knock down a brick wall with a sledge hammer. but you have to join. no passing the buck, little missy. can’t be wrong. I am delusional to think that one human would want to not-compete with me, and snuggle most of the time. yes, I would kind of like to be attached at the hip, for a while. then unattached, and re-attached, regularly. it matters. who are you telling this to? whoever cares. everyone. dictator don’t shuffle out the important bits. you get a slave to do that. you don’t really “run” for office when you’re a dictator. you are the office. it said to its personified truck-house. why ain’t you got a wifi antennae yet? ‘cuz we ain’t got a community shop tool library with an e-printer yet. oh there will be snakes. I just can’t afford them yet. oh, dave. there are so many of you!

I don’t want to whine at you about my living situation. it’s not like it helps, or anyone cares. I don’t know. I figure you’re keeping note, so as to return the favor when you have my ear. pain is best shared, don’t you think? as with pleasure. can one get greedy with one’s pain? not sharing it, does that do more damage? what’s your damage? if you base your entire existence on the very system which must be dismantled before humanity can move on, transition seems not like the goal. how’s that? positive words to end a downer sentence? the music switched, from a dancy, celebratory, yet somewhat shallow/consumerist lil kim song (the jump off – I love this song), to an internet-techno masterpiece entitled “i like trains” I also, love this song. I get shit stuck in my head, and dance to the same playlists for months at a time. I remember driving to work, from dinkytown minneapolis to roseville, listening to one or two songs on repeat. for most of the trip. important to mention that now, eh? yes, it’s for the information parser algorithm. what? yes, it will feed the film scripter, integrate with the document archives, and create as many flavors of instant-mash of your life and music as you care to create. it’s software, you can reconfigure it. you know, like rock or metal? abrasives, cutting implements, tools of the trades. we’re all in all the unions, because none of that information is so sacred that we can’t all be schooled in it from the get-go. you mean your co-op has a built-in, career-choice-jobs-training-apprenticeship-prarie-school kind of thing, too? yes, it is that. it is whatever helpful information or materials can be made aware to the commons, and knowing who has the expertise to put to positive use, that which is unwanted by the producing party. why not credit the producing party with what our coop produces? any industrial concern which drops a load of matter which we can process into human/animal shelter, crop-moving infrastructure. a rollable track for vegetable harvest. trolley pulled by winch. erv pto. yes, she’s part tractor. why wouldn’t she be? hehehe. cheeky. auto-fill suggested cheerleaders. good auto-fill. collapsible corrugation? sounds like another scrap business. oh, limbs sprout everywhere when dictator types.

dreams of late? ahahahaha. happiness, contact. with multiple partners, simultaneously. my boyness seems a liability, as of late. I never imagined I’d ever have so many acquaintances, and all on seemingly good terms. ah, but you know how paranoid I am. the fact that i’m ‘alone’ suggests I am not trusted. you don’t act very trustworthy. no? really. is it like how a person would act if they were constantly beaten and abused? threatened. I recently stopped sleeping with a knife, on my person. that’s my security system. that and a bouncy house. no sound insulation, or little. that aluminum roof is like an upward-facing ear. people who ask me how i’m doing, I know the question itself is intended to provide a positive contact, but when it reminds a person how utterly shitty their life is, it gets old. your life isn’t utterly shitty, you fucktard. stop that. I thought you were giving up on the swear-blurting, realizing, finally, how painful that is. I would like to, but then again, here I am, still attempting to convince the rest of the population, or most of it, to stop cannibalizing your species as you poison yourselves with glittering approximations of what was once good in this world. that ween song about the eldest sister is on now. yes, dictator has considered the possibility that its role as personal pleasure-bot may not materialize in more than one other human. huh? yes. and part of me just wants to give her erv. just, outright. here. I can’t stop being in love with you. I understand saying that is something other that doing it, but how I am where I am is intricately linked to you. all. I am of a new world. I am a visitor from your own future, and I am having a hell of a time integrating socially into this web. yes, I flit about from human to human at public appearances, and what? scare them away? no, you direct them towards that which they want. yeah, lady. you are free. always and forever. I am a boring crybaby, aren’t I. even for a time-traveling alien. whatever. lol.

pal, I opened a different application, for to listen to the music you traded me. I am an overprotective, overbearing, micro-manager, and I appreciate every moment of presence and attention you gave me during the overlap of our paths. i’m honored, seriously. that, probably applies to most of you. lots of people know exactly what i’m talking about, typing this. hmm. are you going to tweet more poetraps today? rhyming derplets. aye bee, ai bea, exxx. I scheme all the rhymes. so we’ve dumped enough of this brain-mush to go have fun in the stream? that’s what it is, eh? whatever, it’s everything. I am entertained by my work. you could be too, if you stopped being such a crapitulatist fucktard. thanks for the tip. if you get the tip, you get the root. I am not proud of my actions. any of them. I see no benefit in pride, or my actions weren’t, haven’t been, pride-worthy. through some systems of interpretation, there are those who would say that they are, some of your past deeds. the goodwill bank seems to have been drawn down by its absence. that shit ain’t got a solar trickle-charger, attached. why isn’t it attached? I couldn’t tell you. I ought to charge up the batteries, eh. that.

the engineering cooperative. yeah? get a quote from them. they’d run away scared. the legal liability of your reality prevents any industrial from working with you. bullshit. we can power it with that. cow poops. pig poops. human poops. yes, I know. we have things to do. real-world things. listen here, sweety-cakes. writing is a real-world thing. I am saying this to you because it is going through my awareness. I am what/who, I am. there are some good tweets in here. I know. they probably last longer than tweets.

what makes these databases inaccessible is the lack of complex queries. that, and too few people understand what a complex query is. it is a multi-field question. a date range, a range of character-lengths, etc. content-tagging, by any character combination. dictionary/keyword statistics, with links to results. I am the twitter app. the info-app. is this it? no, the design limb. the entire set of self-publication features, of the internet, opened up and shared however one may wish to participate in them. i’m not a rapper that tweets, I tweet raps. steal this text. spit this diss. enunciate my brain-fart trashs. i’ll pay you back by taking pictures of your daughter’s class. you are pushing your luck, mister. I know. thanks mom. if you ain’t real in the really real world, you can’t declare yourself real on teh entro-webz. that kid skyying a disc is one of the prettiest things i’ve ever seen a human do. I hope I was as much help as I ought to have been. I know, bad example is still a role. everyone in the world wants that, don’t they? no, you might be the only. I think you may not be as in love with these friends of yours as you say. if they felt that, mutually, wouldn’t they be around you more. my hands are dancing to gaga. and feets, love games. 3:57 pm.

i’m going to need a refill soon. there is more yet to type. app. errantly.

so, what does that mean? you build the farmville reality-show, ride/house-’pimping’-good-time-uber-business from the pixels up? bits. data bits need not manifest themselves as pixels until they are viewed by meatbots. many processes can work in the background. certain paper records would be good to have. paper’s bandwidth is limited, doh. it does privatize effectively, if physically hidden/protected. even then, the long-arm of the law has “the right” to examine data, regardless of storage medium. do you not see how you are a database? do you not see how the protection of your data keeps you isolated, crapitulatist. perhaps you do. I won’t assume intent, understanding, anything, really. I put these words here because I don’t see evidence, or hear evidence, in the interactions of human beings, that non-competitive communication is in any way “interpreted to be” a positive thing. otherwise, it would happen.

yeah, some rappers should sit down. this is soul-sucking music like my friends make. wouldn’t you categorize this blog-wordiness as that. yeah, you could. if that’s what you choose to highlight, focus on. love/hate any of its particular components, and they will haunt you.

the residual flavor of weak highlander grog sits near the bottom of my coffee cup. you should rinse that more. don’t rinse the ice cream out of my coffee. why do baristas rinse my cup without permission, or against my wishes? don’t enforce your water usage or standard of “gross” on my odd habits. speak up then, mumbly. I tiptoe in like a wrecking ball, dance up all the floor and nuzzle all the walls. it is a lode-bearing element. gift of data, dee enn aye. I need a meditation vacation, or a multi-week/girl-roll in the hey. hay is poky. like me. love me. touch me now. pleasure-bot antimate, sends love, and how. 4:10 pm

I was on the 414, with the room full of people that I adore. bloggins in the real-world, what this life is for. it wears the colors of the queen. I love you so much, it makes me want to scream. I don’t. I turn my love into horsepower, as much as I can. how much territory shall we cover?

I am listening to mr. dibbs’ primitive tracks. they are good, or seem to be, two tracks in. your taste is delicious, if not corporatized. oh, enough of that. large distro does not devalue arts. no, but the releasing agency are up for discussion. why wouldn’t they be? no, you are not allowed any sacred cows in this cooperative. we are going to discuss sex, out in the open, between human beings. we will share our preferences, without condemnation. condemnation is a punishable act. that’s why you remain in cageless isolation. free range reject. ooh, good band name. no, I thought of it before. thee blacklisted weirdo banned. I like that. one-human shitstorm wrecking ball, with guest appearances by whoever I decide to share amplification with. with whom, I decide, to share, amplification. humans are mostly girls. females. occasionally, if a male one is less drunk than normal, and in the presence of at least one child or vagina-haver, it will act human. I have witnessed this, personally, in real life. eerrlll. en realife. this has oboe. woodwinds are dope as fuck. fucking is so much fun. why don’t we do that for a while? I promise i’ll like it. umm. I can’t speak for anyone. else, either want to learn how to enjoy it with me, or know that you’ll enjoy it yourself otherwise. yeah, dictator instituted the sex sober policy years ago, and seems to stick to it. whatever, he just never gets the opportunity. you can’t take opportunities. they have to fall in your lap. well put. you’re the queen, but there’re more than one. line-item veto applies. preference will shake itself out. I know not what I will find, where I will go, or who will accompany me. that’s it, isn’t it. yes. I need a buffer, and an escape. from those people. all of them. you can’t always run away. I don’t. you can’t always not-listen, or anti-help, the way you do. says the foot-dragging impediment of a wet blanket. wool. yes wool. wool insulates, even when wet. you don’t want to get that wool wet. really? even as a heat-sink? uhh. I don’t know.

here’s what I don’t get. public appearances, you say, are difficult for you. you seem to avoid them. not exactly. I appear in a select public regularly. it is where/when I feel safe. if I am not, I will not, cannot, go. the key/trick will be finding security in erv, in the great wide open. we’re close. we need a retractable extension cord and sidewalk cord cover for pluggin in erv at laundromats, truck stops, gas stations, restaurants, and businesses with external outlets. yes, we track our energy usage and credit the business accordingly. by kilowatt hour. what, you want to trade offices with dictator? yeah, once he gets erv set up, she might be worth something, trade-wise. ain’t she now? sun goes behind the pioneer place apartments, and evening chill sets in. dictator laughs at our freaking. he believes in our toughness, and seems the only one with the willingness to trudge on. he knows we have no choice in that. or, that we have made the choice already. some things are too good to give back. this role is as heavenly as it is hellish. still with the expectations, unenlightened one? apparently. they are momentary.

dope. schedule overlap with two friendly gentles tomorrow. gots to move kim chi out of the car. basement, then? root cellar. right. do that up, down. love the last-minute clown. I am a cute little feral ginger, so they become my friends. kindred spirits. are they all feral? I don’t think so. some are merely amused by me. or, they are more balanced than they thought, being what they can hang with me as they do. I could burn this onto cd to bring in the car. not here. the cds are in erv. I smell weed. it’s probably on me, huh. this town passes joints. 444 pmz. in duh. knock off the clowning. if you can’t be yourself, unscripted, then make whey four won hoo-can, toucan, sam liek yo-semmitea. park it californian, worries ain’t the remedy. these systems are trussed up nicely. yes, we get the snail-shell off in p-lover, trailer it up, the old-heavy. strip it bare, sandblast it raw. leave the R22 as trade for services and find the middle ground. am I a co-op, or are we a co-op? the legal terminologicals ain’t there yet? how aren’t they? what is that website? practices aren’t set. true, neither is membership. we must canvass. yeah, door-to-door. household representative dinner swap. training sessions disguised as free feeding. lunch? yah, breakfast or dinner. supper, brunch, or snack. also, that is how ofen I enjoy touching the small of your back. oy. I am a horndog, aren’t I. oh, well. aka good. ;D I can’t make a semi-colon with my phoen, so I got to make one here.

dad’s putting me on the verizon phone plan. what’s your proposal, old man? why haven’t you shared it with me? little sis left it in 9 am voice-mail. she had to add that she “wasn’t near the computer” as if being a fucking evil cunt every time you talk to me has anything to do with physical location. don’t act like you want to talk to me when all you do is abuse me and whine about my refusal to take your abusive, manipulative shit. yes, family. you are assholes. every fucking one of you. your houses are enemy territory, fascist anti-thinkers. I am so the abusive useless. so are they.

hey, it’s writing e-mails.

what is wrong with you people?

whatever. i need help, and this is helpful. i think it’s manipulative, anti-communication bullshit, too. but that’s all i ever get from you guys.  words are real communication. you both ignore most of what i say and act like i never said anything.  that is abandonment, betrayal.  i neither trust you not to harm me, either in word or deed, and i don’t really like talking to either of you.  i don’t know how or why, or when this happened, but i assume if i ever have some sort of “material” success, you may begin to treat me like a human.

dad, what is the budget? if you want to help me get a phone, it’s not going to be conditioned on seeing you in person. that’d be like a forced enslavement of a rape victim by its piece of shit “father” who refuses to acknowledge its wrong. i can only assume you do that to pretty much everyone, and i have no interest in endorsing that shit, ever again.

so, spend your lives talking about me, rather than sharing thoughts with me, and i’d rather just get a wifi device that only works at hotspots. i honestly feel like you have both told me to go die, so paying for something that allows you to be abusive shit more often than you already are barely seems like help.  the ability to send text from phone range, and maintain a phone number are undeniably convenient.

hey, look, the feral is gettin’ all uppity with cash in its pocket.  IF YOU’RE GONNA FUCKING JUST CALL ANYWAY, AND I FUCKING KNOW THAT YOU ARE, DON’T FUCKING APOLOGIZE FOR CALLING EVERY FUCKING TIME I WILL NEVER ANSWER AND YOU LEAVE ME A SHITTY WHINY MESSAGE.  fuck.

ok, we copied it over to the blog. you have to share this kind of venom. witnesses, I feel hurt by these people, and how they communicate, or refuse to communicate with me. I know, when I get the co-op up and running, it will take care of them how they hoped I would. I am sorry that you felt that you had to work for so much of your life, and I know it sucks being in debt, but why can we not talk about how things could be otherwise? oh, right, because you’re still addicted to the means and practices of crapitulatism. and I am still hopelessly addicted to free speech, marijuana, and fucking. yes, even though it’s been a few years. four years? or five? who cares. hanging out with my new, or real friends, is better than sex. what? ok, it’s better than inconsistent, occasional sex. you don’t remember what regular sex is like. I barely remembered what pleasant daily interaction with another human was like, until she ensnared me. she must have, she keeps coming back for more. I must be getting closer to being a human. maybe. I thought we were going to quit writing at 5. yeah, but then we got this urge to compose e-mail to the family people. they really infuriate you, don’t they. yes. I don’t even know why. oh, wait, yes I do. they are yelly and mean and cruel and generally difficult to be around in my present state. they refuse to be influenced by my quirks, too. yes, they have their own. make life as difficult and information-restrictive as possible. now you’re projecting. oh, and what was I doing before? yeah, that. well, this is me. like I said, no pride. no gain. honest truths, as much as I can garner them. in person, you force me to be silent and listen to you ramble about meaninglessness. then you mock my ideas and revert to addicted children in candy-store, pigs at the feeding/fueling trough. I hope the suprise you left me was ruined in the cold. fuck your surprises. tell me now, if you already know. then, if I ask, tell me again. can you not see which details would be useful? do you care about usefulness, or do you just want to trudge through the isolated suck of crapitulatism? you make that decision clear with every act you do, and your clinging to that religion is what keeps me shut out in the cold. my tribe is a disconnected set of “educated” slaves, over-worked and under-loved. more data gets passed without the gloves. is that a bare knuckle reference or another baby-planting sex euphemism. yes. great. browser crashed. should re-set that. I suppose. 5:37 pm

this concludes this test of the emergency dictator’s life-log. signing off, your humiliated servant. your existential whipping boy/girl. if this had been an actual emergency, you would have done something about it. that’s a mean sign-off. yeah, this was a mean entry. different how? I don’t know. you say that a lot, and you say, a lot, for someone who claims to know so little. hop in the pit, the daugher’s fine. pool, water. you know what I intend, love.

peace, happiness, joy and comfort,
t

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