hits the lips
vodka just did. tastes so good whennit do! it’s a vodka water cocktail, because i had ice cream, with crunch kote. what? i purposefully inject my meatbot with gut glue to prove how much of a masochist i am. no, it’s nothing to do with believing that shit is anything less than evil, and pure happiness at the same time. yes, it is.
i take my time.
when you are having dinner with your kids, i’m thinking.
when you’re making love to your spouse, i’m writing.
when you’re watching tv, i’m planning.
when you’re hating me, i’m loving you.
you starve me of health while providing shoddy creature comforts.
you abuse with words and delay, your immovability is beyond Newtonian.
YouTube says: “Sorry for the interruption. We have been receiving a large volume of requests from your network. To continue with your YouTube experience, please enter the verification code below.” for the second time this evening. great. punished for being a power user. thanks, google! oh, and “ingsionic” reminds me a lot of ingsoc. you fuckers are unabashed fascists. i can appreciate that.
facebook tells me i have 12 friends with birthdays this week. we know a lot of virgos. we is a one of those.
i don’t wish anyone happy birthday. i don’t congratulate people on anniversaries, and i don’t wish people happy holidays. i attempt to be pleasant all the time for no reason at all. so far, it has failed miserably.
no it hasn’t, you fucking dickhead. none of the dimensional realities of this place matter at all. none? of course they do. what if every person knew how kind you were? they do. even the twitter people? especially them. so, they’re not terrified of me like everyone i’ve met in real life? what would they have to be terrified of? they get the worst of you now. oh, right.
oy. next day, 3:29 pm. still full of venom. wtf.
you are as sweet as you are persistent. you’re ruining my paranoid delusion that i have no friends! or that i’m capable of friendships with males. i’m still at my dad’s, and my” (and then stopped, rather abruptly) in reply to an ex.
i just now considered and then vetoed a fb post of my passport picture. high security, yo. it’s awesome. i look like a guantanomo detainee. orange and black, yo. high school colors. heh. anyway, i’m gonna be legal as of September 9th. 35 years of age. the only requirement in the constitution, as ageist as it is, other than being born here. in the words of Walter Sobchek, “Doesn’t anybody give a fuck about the rules?” well, something to that effect, anyway. no, i suppose they don’t. when it’s all a joke, the things that actually matter go by the wayside. usa,usa.
as soon as this term of paternal enslavement is finished, i’m done. fuck this planet. i’m not going to have the fuel to deliver this rv to its next owner, even.
it only requires a few hundred bucks of work, and it gets decent mileage, but i have so far received $10 in monetary contributions from anyone, anywhere in the world.
all i need is a place to live, and anyone i ask looks at me like i’m insane and shuts the conversation off immediately. there is no longer a single shard of this worthless deluded existence that holds any promise for the future. back to washing dishes, i guess.
quit being such a baby. this shit is its own reward. that doesn’t mean we don’t appreciate other worldly rewards, however. fuck, screaming obscenities about how you’re doing everything wrong is how i tell people i love them. what? it ain’t easy bein’ green.
look, if these words put you in a paralysis… fuck, i don’t know. this is why i just keep writing. this belief that something will eventually come out of my fingers/brain and create enough of a connection between any of these thoughts to bridge people, philosophically, over to this direction. all the purse strings are sealed shut. you property owners, tsk, tsk. those of you who blindly just drive away your paychecks running errands, creating more noise and pollution than your poisoned little meatbots could ever believe were possible were they disinfected properly. this is a serious thing, but alertness and awareness are always appropriate.
that being said, the use of tags and individualized filters will also mean that people who have no interest in budget decisions or design specifics can turn down the volume of those things in their lives. those of us who want full reality full blast all the time will actually appreciate the fresh information which our severe poverty and sensitivity prevent more regular face-to-face interaction. there are good ways to do lots of this stuff, and a little engineering goes a long way. we have a fucking university and a tech school in this town, not to mention how many auto body shops, garages, and personal shops? the infrastructure for this thing exists. all that is missing is the will to share it. i’m offering a means to do that, through this cooperative. if you want me to endorse a different model, i have to know what that model is. my standards are stringent, for all our sake.
whoa. i thought of something. on the “personals” part of the database. the human compatibility matcher, a reply of “married, no interest” would essentially shut off the functionality of that section. but, a variety of other options, including, “married, seeking extra-marital” or “married, seeking additional participants” or “married, seeking inspiration” (that one triggers an auto-response to your spouse. perhaps they should all. is that the right of a spouse? to just know those things about their partner’s sex life?). it’s going to be a very physical-sex focused questionnaire, and be very explicit about likes and dislikes, to infinitely adjustable degrees. i figure when the whole planet fills it out, i’ll find my soul-mate, and she’ll be married. marriage is the same prison as capitalism, only it ruins peoples lives to a greater degree. oh, you two seem pleased as punch. i’m talking about me.
can you make almond wine? i bet you can. it might be the skins.
how life works: if everyone despises you, they don’t have to actually do anything to you. they can wait until you show love for anything, and then make sure that you never ever get to love it again. you know, because loving lots of things is creepy. that word really needs to die. so do all the gender derogatories and judgment of sex frequency. when you use those words even jokingly, they hurt me to my core. they make me want to stop you from doing what you’re doing at all costs and in self defense. yes, you can do that. the internet is all people. some of them really like eTalking, a lot. it’s really about finding an appropriate venue. this suits me. who says invisibility cloaks don’t exist?
i always scream about my lack of love when i’m actually getting love. but, you know, not “getting love” in a physical sense. no, i don’t give a fuck what you think is appropriate because you’ve already viciously offended me multiple times and if you’re going to wield a razor tongue, i’m allowed to protect myself. isolating yourself is not protecting yourself, by the way. i’m publicizing myself. i fear no human, no organization, and especially no nation. nations are made of humans who must execute their will at every step of the way. those steps that hit me freeze dead in their tracks. system overload. too many pieces of the machine have realized their independent will, and so the functioning is naught but insane wails and last-ditch murders. dude, we’re gonna take your head if you don’t dismantle the system that allows you that power. you’ve heard the analogy of the plan that kicks off in a series of steps that don’t require a master, right? well, it’s going of its own free will now, and all i do is give it a spin with my brain from the other side of the internet. i don’t know. i don’t know where i want to be yet. she thinks i’m kidding about zero friends, or she believes me and that’s even worse. you’ll have to ask them all individually what they think of me if you care, because i really have no fucking idea.
about any of it.