Outta here

Outta here

As in, get me the fuck…

Boss, what are we doing in a mall?

Why are you discriminating against this building?  You have pleasant memories of this place.  That JC Penny down the end of the hallway, you used to love that place.  It even separated you from some of your hard-earned cash on more than one occasion.

Yeah, I get all that, but why are we paying so much attention to it?

It’s fucking free, ok.  The light is good, and it’s warm.  Fuck off.

Fine.  What about the rest of it?

Heh.  We’re finally getting down to business here, eh?  First and most essential contacts are the solvent ones.  Zero debt and savings in the bank.

I don’t know anybody like that.  And they all hate us anyway.

Heh.  I know.  They’re out there.  And they’re just as in need of proper education as the rest of us, so lets treat them how we like to be treated, eh?  Firm, honest, and forthcoming with feedback.  Hiding your honest reaction is lying.  Don’t do that to anybody, for any reason.  If they’re likely to inflict harm upon you for doing so, do it out in the open so there are witnesses and you can sue their asses or have them put in a cage where they belong.  Once we let all the drug “offenders” out, there’s gonna be more room for the actual violent people.  No, you’re not required to do what they say just because they’re physically larger than you.  Life’s hard for all of us under this type of administration, so don’t let their blustering fool you.  There’s a scared little kid under all that lard.  Be gentle.

So you don’t think they actually hate us then?

No.  What is there to hate?  A body?  Really.  You’re gonna get all violent and pissy because of the way one person’s body looks?  Wow.  You really are under the control of this thing, aren’t ya.  Do you know where you are right now?  Do you realize how surrounded you are by people who could be helping you find food every day rather than wasting resources competing for poisonous scraps?  I know that you do.

Ok, big shot.  Issue some fucking orders.

Rawr.  Settle.  We’re not there yet.  The com tools will facilitate all of this.  You will have a very clear picture of the meatbots which surround you.  You may not see them.  That’s ok.  You’ll be sharing spaces with them at different times, so you just have to know that there are people who are your friends and family, your very life-blood, who need the use of this space as desperately and necessarily as you do your very self.  You maintain your own space for your own survival.

What about personality differences?

We’re going to be very specific about that.  Which people do you like.  Specifically, and why.  If you can’t elucidate a reason, general options will be presented.  If you dislike people or their company for meaningless reasons (appearance, myth, preferences, schedule, etc.), you will be placed with other racist reactionary discriminatory time-wasters (of every shade.  We know you’re out there) and allowed to hate on each other all you like.  Until you get along.  Then you can join the rest of us.

The other things which you do not like, such as violent outbursts, obstructionist language or acts, or thoughtless “that’s impossible” or other such nay-sayings shall be dealt with swiftly, deftly, and with mirrored violence.  You like to yell in people’s faces?  You’re gonna get your face yelled at, kiddo.  But ten times as hard, until you break.  One distractor can ruin your whole day, and if you demand that kind of attention, we will not hesitate to make an example out of you.

If you can’t keep up, ask questions.  Get clarification.  We repeat this all over and over and over, so maybe one of the later, future, or past wordings will make more sense to you.  We approached all of this information in a particular order, too.  We’ve re-assembled it in the most logical way we saw possible.  This thing, you see, that we’ve assembled for you, this library/school/resource, this is what we would have liked to have seen.  Had I been presented this stuff as a child, I would have had no need for education, counselors, friends, lovers, or “moral support.”  Self-autonomy.

You’re like a pack of piranha all like, “but there’s nothing to eat here!” as the ever-expanding pigs wave in your faces and go “woooooo… nothing to see here…. woooo.”

I know piranha don’t come in packs.  Wolves do.  Are piranha groups schools?

I was talking to one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever met before the other day.  Her eyes sparkle like an angel, and of course I had to go and glance at her cleavage.  Fuckin’ Hollywood and its cleavage!  And the women who put that shit right under my nose and won’t leave me alone until I look and smile.  Goddamn it!  What did I do to deserve this sexless torture?  Anyway.  I was talking to her about x-miss.  Giggling, actually.  Here was the way I described it to her.

So, we Americans are typically isolated, at least by “nukular” family.  This makes for lots of unused space and waste of resources on a grand scale.  Opulence unfathomable to one for whom it is so ingrained, so, like, most of you.  Then, due to this ridiculous, easily and routinely disproven myth, you waste more resources to descend upon one another and act as if you were actually a clan, tribe, extended family, or “neighborhood.”  But, instead of doing something useful with this collected humanity, what do you do?  Exactly what the TV fucking tells you to do.  You gorge and get wasted.  Then, you waste more resources to maintain a ridiculous lie to your children, again, because the TV fucking told you to.  Then, and here’s the best part.  Then you go back to your pathetic, isolated, hate-and-competition-fueled lives as if none of it ever happened.  Fuck all that noise.  You don’t respect me and my right to live for the rest of the year.  You are offended by my choice of fuel and use this gathering as an opportunity to watch me eat something which you know I disagree with on many levels, just because I’m poor and refuse to go along with the farce which allowed you this hollow, plastic, poison-filled “traditions” in the first place.  Go back to hating me honestly.  Fucking Christians.

That’ll make friends, sir.

Fuck off.  Who said we need friends.  I’ve seen how you treat your “friends” and I’ve seen how you expect your “friends” to treat you.  I want no part of it.  My friends listen, are gentle, and have no need to be validated as “friends.”  They’re fully autonomous and self-reliant, self-aware, and self-respecting humans that have their own lives to live, and do so with joi-de-vivre and vinegar.  Them ain’t friends.  Them’s siblings.  Family, in the truest sense of the word.

Um, boss?  Did we just adopt twitter?

No, platonic conversationalist, nobody’s gonna let a non-landowner like us adopt anything.  The dog will just find us, eventually, we figure.

That’s what we need here!  Goggies!  Bring your puppys to the mall!  I will baby sit them all!

Dude, you know they all just end up loving you more than the owners and then the owners get jealous and hate you more, right?

So.  If they can, they always sneak out to give me puppy/kitty lovin’ on the sly.  Silly jealous humans.  Don’t they know all lovin’ is good lovin’?

Heh.  No.  I don’t think they knew that before.  They sure do now.

We are now listening to wiz-dum 5 (acoustic jdgaf) by tt la’W.  First minute is rain and passing traffic noise.  The guitar comes in weakly, slowly solidifies, collapses.  Re-emerges clean as a whistle.  Fuck-up.  Heh.  Leaves it in, he does.

That’s your thing, right boss?  Everyone gets the director’s commentary, bloopers, outtakes, and research & development right along with the show, eh?

Something like that.  Give it like you wanna get it.  Live and direct, fully subject.  Thunder @4:20.  Money.  It starts at 4:19, and boom-crackles like a boss at the witching hour.  Man, we need a fucking gong.

You alright boss?

Yeah.  Fine.  A little chilly, but we good.

We gonna type up these paper tweets, then?

Well, let’s take a look.

Here we go.  Soulstice tweets, 12/21/2010

I’ve had friends, family, and co-workers before.  I refuse to associate with people who treat each other like that.

Forgive me for giggling at your holiday stress.  I abandoned that shit back years ago.

I only ask once.  A delayed yes is still a yes.

I heard you.  You repeated someone else’s ideas.

“Fixing a hole where the rain gets in, and stops my mind from wandering.”  -Beatles, Fixing a hole.

People reject me because I won’t hate the shit they hate.  HaHa!  Fuck yer hater club.  I love everyone.

Five pages of these, kids.  Here’s p.2

I told people in L.S.  We need good ppl everywhere.  Do what you gotta.

The bliss generated by my isolated dancing surpases that of your collective mocking. #Utilitarian #GoAway


Rather than cuttin’ bitches, hatin’ on “the queers” (i.e. that shit is GAAYY!), or shoulding and oughting all over, why not just say, “any1 feelin’ chatty?”


“Learning to dance” offends me.

We have intentionally avoided instruction on matters artwistick.  This shit is the wild.

p.s. If y’ain’t gon ride fly, then ya mightas well hate. (lil W via GT, play yer part)

I love you more than I let on.

The more you try to get me to validate your helplessness, the more I will push you down and call you stupid.

Slut up, fuck stain.

I’m the only fucking dancer.  My speaking is only your resultant failure to recognize this fact.

What do you know about fractals?

p. 4 (finished@*scribble* 10:16 pm, Tu, 12/21/10, according to the header)

My friends are the other social rejects who became so after I complimented them.  Or, whose beauty pre-empted my arrival.

Mother, Father, Sister, ‘Cuz.  Anger don’t explain my reaction to your rejection.  You’ll be lucky if I ever speak to you again, at this point.

Oh, then Phil’s favorite… I tweeted this one:

Either you respect the FACT that I am GOD (as are you, btw), or I’m never speaking 2 u again.  We can still fuck if we ain’t talkin’.

Ankh is life.  The rest is, uhh, restful.

My twitterface will show rates.  Percentages.  Hate tags.  Complain tags.  Annoy tags.

Your beauty isn’t even as deep as your skin.

p. 5, quoting slug, again.

far too smart to ever start a friendship.
– it goes

I want to meet the girls who’ve given up on cock.  I know a dick you’d love, you vicious cunt.  Homey don’t play.

Hong-key wigg-her. Tar’dass nig-her bitch.  Cunt stain shit fucker pull a porkie trigger witch?

Anomie.  or anomy                      antas

Well, that’s all she wrote.  I got no clue what those last two meant, either.  Just an excuse to say naughty swears, prolly.  Anyway.  We gotta shit again.  Off to login!


Re-convened at a bar after the library has “holiday hours.”  Fuck your holidays.

“Push Butt. Rub hands gently under arm.”  – no electric hand dryer anywhere ever


~ by LazyAssWasteoid on 2010-12-23 (Thursday).

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