If your organization doesn’t summarily execute or banish people, I want no part of it.  The silent treatment ain’t no way to figure out what someone’s saying.

Last day of march of the ’11.  So far, this year, I haven’t often moved from this property.  That is often the case.  I’m rather a homebody.  I cook, I clean, I build, I write.  I sleep, I drink, I tweet.  I research, design, and do my best to spread the good word of love and light.  I know you don’t think that’s legitimate career.  That’s just because you haven’t paid me for it yet.

Do all bearded men leave a trail of hairs wherever they go, or is it just the sloppy ones like me.

I started soaking a batch of stu, and my hunger went away.  I made some tea, and I remembered to put honey in it.  I need to just add honey to my office supplies, don’t I.  Honey, Bronner’s, Sriracha, and Massage oil.  Sunscreen is poison, I don’t put that shit on my skin.  I’m immune to your petty cancers.  Listen to your body.  Put natural, wholesome things against your skin.  Your skin is a huge sponge, your largest organ.  You need to pamper that shit.  Oxygen, not pore-clogging chemicals, scents, or other contents of shimmery plastics.  Corporate eww.  Put the face of the person I can go thank in person for such a wonderful product.  Oh, nobody has that faith in it?  Get it the fuck away from me, then.  Where’d that come from?  You forgot to write down your song.

Hheh.  K, so down in the kitchen, while fillin’ said beany jars (djidso), I imagined me outside of the Willy St. Co-op in Madison, playing guitar with an empty bag of jars.


Oh, I’m playin’ for my vittles, it’s not that strange, I say.
I use no fuel to get here, consume no plastic today.

I work for food & hours ‘cuz I dislike how they manage that cash
But if ya got extra layin’ about, we’ll put it towards some useful mash.

Grains of rices and beans and flours and yeast,
and grinded spices make us the delectable feasts!

We like cheese! and dried fruit, the organic local bulk pack
raw unsalted nuts and butters will make my lips smack!

The nutritious deliciousity contained in this store
Is rivaled by few in any land I am sure.

I’m a farmhand by trade, dishwasher, dancer and a poet
Been schooled by the finest, listen closely, you’ll know it.

I got a pocket full of lint and a heart full of love
I am of the earth, and with the angels above.

And by the way, we also take,
Wine, booze, beer, good lovin’, and weed!

(the scruffy fellow, still grinning, leans down to the kids and says, “now, the people that don’t like me will go away, and the ones who do will come give me a hug and invite me to their party.” Or maybe, “Kids, be happy and help other people be happy because being happy feels good and is healthy.”  The end.  I’d get my guitar out and write music for it, but a Weezer song just came on.  This album is so beautifully pained and pathetic.  Today’s emo doesn’t seem to have the gut-wrenching quality that this shit did.)

That shall be the official busking song of the kingdom of LAW.  If you hear that song, they’re putting any money earned towards the legal acquisition of land upon which to grow organic food through the use of an shifting-proportionality of ownership and full consensus decision-making apparatus.

The title of the song is, “you’re fucking up my schtick.  What the FUCK do you want?”  It’s not done yet, I don’t think, mostly ‘cuz it’s still only words and not sounds, but you can prob’ly imagine what it sounds like.  Three chords plucked ad nauseum.  Whatever.  I’ll babysit your kids outside the store and we’ll have a drum circle while I busk for food and donations to my coop.  I’m not kidding at all, you can read about online if you like, there’s a stack of business cards right there.

No, the sign that most often appears on his office door is the one with his picture, and he’s flipping you off, and it says, “leave me alone, I’m masturbating.”  I giggle every time I see it.

If I had a radio show, I would say, “go grab your fucking guitar right now and walk out your front door and play until you run into someone else who’s playing.” (ß I un-capped that sentence.)  Word can do that, ya know.  I know.  When she has just linux, she gonna purr.  I will get something smaller probably before I put a solid state hd in this.  I could take it out and just run it off of USB.  They do make 64 GB flash thumb drives now.  My little portable hd will have multiple os’s on it.  I can boot from USB.  There must be a keyboard combination.  That’s a bios setting.  I can change it back, and I haven’t written any of the scripts yet.  So, why do I use windows still?  I don’t know.  It’s here.  I have been too hung up on the familiarity and specificity of functions that these familiar software suites and this OS.  I like linux.  I will take the plunge when I get my data straight, deal?  New HD should be here by the weekend.  How exciting.

What an aside.  I imagined drawing buskers out of the woodwork for a public everyone concert.  That’s what you can do with a radio.  That’s a fucking flash-mob.  Cheap synchronized communication already exists, yo.  It’s called body language.  McLovin’.

Hey, hey, you guyse, if I sold this account would you keep following who I sold it to and then follow back my new account if I follow you?  Yes?  You probably wouldn’t notice.  Or would that be like Cosmo selling his stories.  I have way too much fucking syndicated sit-coms in my fucking brain than any human ought.  As a TV viewer, it took forever for cable to be regularly under my control.  Even then, I just watched music videos.  I’m as bad at TV as I am at anything.  I’m despicable in how I hold spoons.

It’s funny, that I hold fewer and fewer attachments to the stuffs.  It’s all temporary anyway.  I’m gonna spend my time with the open, communicative, helpful, trusting, and cooperative, then.  They do exist.  They’re the ones I smile at.

Business airtime.

T^his shit is totally disconnected today.  Filled two pages and it’s 1:45?  Shit.  Why couldn’t I write like this in college?  Oh yeah, I did.

My heart is no longer breakable, sweety.  All you can do is make me happy.

I was watching this, trying to decide whether I liked it or no.  No.  What is that, I like my pain?  Wasn’t I just extolling the virtues of pathetic emo earlier?  It’s a catchy fucking song.  I would re-write it to make it happier, though.  I bite.

Estimated delivery is tomorrow.

Just don’t bring too many dudes.”  YouTube made the shortlink pop when you hit the share key.  Thanks, kids.  There are tons of hot girls in this video.  No, hef’s kind of hot has never held my interest for too long.  Scrawny, homely, dorky ones.  I don’t know why.  Can I not enjoy being with my own people?  What?

Veruca Salt has a vevo.  Way fun.  I haven’t heard this in years.  Guess who this video reminds me of.  No, don’t.  She’s probably listening.  I hope she is.  The static.  There are gaps.  Missing chunks of the story.  Chunking is a lot of work.  I do more detail work now.  Tantric, meditative.  The angels assist me.

I got nothin’ but love for ya.

The way to make food taste delicious is to not eat for a good part of the day.  Then, the three cheese curds and few handfuls of almonds taste like a feast of royal delicacy.  Got another cup of tea, too.  Green+passion fruit tea, with honey.

Oh yeah, I was going to do a radio ad for 90 fm.

Help us build our local economy using local resources.  Let us collaborate as neighbors.  For a free brainstorming session about how you and your neighbors could set up passive solar systems, greenhouses, wind generators, root cellars, or if you need help setting up your new or improved garden infrastructure, contact Skyscaper Permaculture.  We are currently seeking landowners looking for a constructive, humanitarian, wholesome, and egalitarian trust under which to protect their property for future generations.

It’s not a cult!  It’s part commune, part music venue, communal shelter and food-creation hub.  You participate as much as you like, help us identify resources to share, and we will share our collected expertise with all of you as well.  Utilitarian symbiosis.

It’s like I need an army of assistants.  I know what needs to be said, what the contract has to say, but once the idea is out there, I don’t want to be the one writing it up.  Sure, I’ll completely re-write and shuffle your first draft, and anyone else that wants a hack can wikify it up, too.  We vote on wording, interaction style, insight, an poignancy.  The point is to get all of the objections out on the table and address their roots one at a time.  People have been doing this since forever.  Just because you’re used to Roberts rules and televised debates doesn’t mean that’s the only fucking way to communicate between human fucking beings.  Grow a pair.

I will gladly wrestle or fight any other candidate in a public ring.

Wait, that means there will be video of you fucking my grand-daughter?  If she wants there to be, old one.  The lovin’ is sacred, and has been documented for as long as we’ve existed.  This is not the western filth you’re looking for.  The honor that is loving, learning, and fostering healthy interaction amongst all human beings precedes any of your petty traditions and rituals.  If you are capable of being so offended by word that you demand the right to take a life, I shall gladly dispose of you in whatever grounds you see fit.  There’s a larger world at work, and as many dedicated and thoughtful people as yourself have come to entirely different conclusions based on the same words and attitudes.  If act does not match word, judge the act by the act.  See through the word.

So that song, I think I could sing it in front of anyone.  That’s probably the first song I’ve written where that’s the case.  I’ve always thought the haughty grown-ups would get all huffy if they knew what I said around the kids.  They get the same straight poop I give you, only more of it because they recognize its worth and don’t talk back as much because I’m bigger than them.  Heh.  They know they can do more damage to me, emotionally, than I could ever do to them physically.  Sometimes they do.  I cry, sometimes sputter back some pathetic half-insulting, innuendo-filled compliment, and then I leave them alone until they’re nice to me again.  So, as you can clearly see, none of them have stuck around, since I don’t have any property with which to house/feed them.  This is circular, eh?  It’s just a question of how and who to ask.  If you know someone who’s on a committee that decides this kind of thing, I want to meet them.  If I can find one person with the decision-making and comprehension capability to see what I’m getting at with all of this, it will take off like a rocket.

How many years are you going to hide from everyone else here that I’m in love with you?  My watch alarm goes off at 8:45 every evening, and I think of her.  I don’t shut it off.  There are days when that one, fading, pathetic memory is the best thing that happens to me.  My now is subtle reminders of infinite love.  She doesn’t even know.  Maybe she does.  You have an open invitation, little girl.  I have much to teach you, and much to learn.  I owe you as much pleasure as you can handle.

I don’t fall in love with individual girls any more, even.  Seriously, blocks of them.  Eye contact is exclusive, kiddo.  Independent of space-time, I’m gazing lovingly into her eyes with my tongue on her pussy.  I know, simultaneously?  It’s a talent.  Spacetime is so limiting, though.  Y’all’s rules have jurisdiction over me.  I am nomadic alien eBard.  I am lonely horny nothing girl, just waiting for a kiss.

I’m hearing this song on the radio that I’ve heard this band play probably five times.  They have good crowds.  That’s how bands get popular, I think.  If pretty kids like dancing to it, people will pay to go see it.  Don’t be disgusted by human nature.  That’s highly disrespectful of the designs of the creator.  Honest interactions will ensure that what we desire is what we need is what we get.  Peace.

I apologize to those of you I haven’t starred as much as I’d like or as much as you deserve, but I don’t have the energy or need to sit in the stream for seven hours a day every day.  I hope that my excess words make up for any imbalance created by the cyclical nature of my actions.  The gyroscope is getting up to speed.  It wobbles less, spins faster, stays truer.

When she (one of you) e-mail/IM/dm’d me, it made my day.  Thanks for the e-poke. 😀


~ by LazyAssWasteoid on 2011-03-31 (Thursday).

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