iDon’t remember tv

i don’t even remember [the last time i watched] tv

kinda fixated on that tv thing, eh?  well, wouldn’t you be?  who else does anyone else listen to?  we are the meta-designers, from seemingly conflicting schools, yet in the overlap of our philosophies, paradise.

so, tell me what trees you want where, and i’ll get to work.  tell me what plants you don’t want where, and i’ll get to work.  we sculpt every square inch.  nanosensors, wirelessly feeding data to the mother-ship.  the tractor bot will do any tilling or planting you need, if you still even need to do any tilling.  honestly, if you really want to till, it should be an area that’s a part of a swale system, and should only be a swath the width of a tractor or rail system that would do the tilling/planting/harvesting?  you could put a bot on rails that could pull whatever material through your entire system.  you could build the tree system around it.  you could repurpose the ground itself regularly.

you could redistribute biomass automatically if you got creative.

imagine a portable bot system that could install a permaculture system, from removing certain types of plants, replacing them with the desired plants, and then distributing biomass to the soil surrounding the desired plants.  what’s the point in letting undesirable species remain?  or, are there desirable qualities about what is already there for which a purpose has already been devised.

you have a permanent temperature differential which could be constantly harnessed.  by the time those dumbasses figure out what phatt camp is, we’ll have taken over the planet at all seven chakras, simultaneously.  we have an exercise-intensive program which puts your desire to throw as much weight around as possible, and we will help you get crazy ripped, while you hang out with fun people, and live in the most luxurious setting you could imagine.

what do you think i owe you on the property?  what damage did i do?  does it need to be fixed?  here i am, in this lifetime.  you know my situation.  i’m fucking broke and horny.  fuck you, lord of the manners.  fuck your hoarding and misuse of god’s green earth.  whatever.  he’s wasted already.  am not.  i’m buzzing because i had a fantastic fucking day.  fantastic.

new rule.  my boss calls me ruler.  i’m not going to stop calling him boss.  home slice, if the only person of this whole shenanigans (what? madly, in. love.).  i told him, today, something like, “exactly the right amount of asshole” to, you know, “deal” with me.  verbal pugilist.  we set our boundaries, our standards.  past common human decency, i hold no conditions on human beings.  creative genius is a state that only occurs when one is free of tyranny.  on planet retard, such a condition is rare.  those who have experienced such bliss do frightfully useless things.

funnily enough, the reason we use this particular harness system is because it is a part of the local “code” of a small town inScotland.  All of our training programs are compliant with every set of building codes around the planet.  excepting those which are illogically restrictive.  an example of an illogically restrictive code would be one that, when every other condition, from noise generation to physical appearance, to wheelchair accessability, has been addressed, and all materials used are of locally inspected, standard quality, yet “permission” is not granted.  you really want to limit economic expansion because of skin art?  because there are some people who do not look on the typical act of pleasurable and biological reproduction with the guilty disdain of a destructive despot, choking off any living process before it ever has the chance to sprout.  hey, nuke it all.  what the fuck do i care?  i only live here, with all of you noisy fuckers.  there shall be a daily noise generation hour, where lawn mowers, rifles, screams, “music”al noises, shall all be cooperatively tolerated, nay… listened to.  dwelled upon.  consideration-makated.

let us make it clear.  we put no judgment on any “old” way of doing anything, no matter how old.  anything that developed into a “standard” of any type, clearly had a use, purpose, or direction which should be revered and/or learned from.  why?  how did this way come to be?  if no structure of expansion, learning, growth, or improvement exists, stagnation is inevitable.  how does your system expand.  oh, you don’t think about that, at all?  if you aren’t beneficial, you will never “dominate” the world.  fuck.  you will never really “dominate” anyone.  you may only show people that which is in their own benefit.

“it’s a breezy, beautiful day.” –baths.

honey, i’m trying to scam us a few square feet of heaven.  or, sell my fucking soul for a tiny patch of otherwise useless dirt.  i mean.  i’m falling in love with a bunch of local matter that is already helping us.

if you want “deliveries” from those outside grids, you may as well make the area accessible to their delivery infrastructure.  why wouldn’t you?  ‘scape the rest of the landscape off of that singular necessary process.  no problem.  as long as the necessary design considerations are addressed, what does it matter?  as far as i can tell, kid is beneficiary of genius.  i can’t tolerate non-geniuses for a full work day.  i also do a much better job of recognizing particular/specialized/hidden genius than, well, damn near every one of you.  oh, really?  mr. follow-back.  yeah, really.  hours of time spent on necessary processes are hours spent in contribution to the whole.  basically, ever person gets credit for their very existence, within an infrastructure that focuses on elaborately luxurious  living conditions, cooperative existence with biodiversity, and biologically intensive.   we know you like the living thing, dude.  how luxurious are we talking?  besides knowing that you’re absorbing the pollution of your past lives?  how about a noise isolated entirely personal living space, where one may remain without interruption, codified, from any human.  messages may be left, written, audio, video.  accessed without confrontation.  absolute freedom.  exception being agreement to necessary functions.  if you have not contributed sufficient resources to the system to cover your existence, you are essentially “required” to work to pay for your vittles.  if, however, all is covered, you may even receive communally cooked meals via zero-interaction materials exchange infrastructure.  if your contribution via purely electronic means is capable of generating sufficient credit to support your survival, no matter how crass.  let us repeat that so that it may sink in, NO MATTER HOW CRASS.  granted, all are allowed to filter out anything by any criteria, so one may never impinge on another’s right to not be bothered by any particular issue, but no agency may ever determine that which may or may not be said by any one person at any given time.  fuck your holy days.  fuck your sensibilities.  these are real-world issues that must be addressed by thinking people, regardless of their opinions of standards of society.  this fucking society is fucked beyond recognition, if language means anything.  lies will not suffice, and potential is so far beyond unlimited, you have no fucking idea.  you are a helplessness trainee.  a farmed commodity.  a slave of slaves of slaves of slaves of slaves of slaves of slaves.  pee wee.  oh, that was knitting.  horse apiece.

mankrush?  about as likely as ROUS’s.  rodents of unusual size.  google “princess bride” if you’re not versed in slave-driven pop culture.  you really don’t like that word, do you.  you don’t like it as characterization of activities purely determined by another.

dear dad, thanks for this room.  thanks for every experience that i have had in this house, and the one on Torgerson.  Thank you for all that you have taught me, for all of the aspects of humanity that you have shown me.  i am who i am because of your guidance, leadership, managerial abilities, and outright gifts.  charity be damned.  you are a good soul, of modest yet respectable lineage.  your challenges are those of humanity proper, and i will neither deny nor judge you any of your choices regarding personal use of time, expertise, resources, or diet.  hey, whatever gets you to the top floor.

i met my first benevolent lord.  well, benevolent to me, anyway.  for the time being.  they all were for that.  i have a good vibe from this one.  hell, we had a hand in designing this one.  designing?  hey, i shared my expertise from the beginning, did i not?  did i withhold information from you?  so, apparently, our brain just told us that every girl that we’ve had sex with, every single one, and there haven’t even been that many, did so and are to be commended for, jumping on the grenade, so to speak.  someone else’s “wing-lady” if such a thing were to exist, what would it smell like?  *giggles*  i love you on more levels than you actually understand that you exist, if that makes all of the cents.  any.  whatevski’s.  sellit.  i still know you’re fucking beautiful.  omg, you should see the lard-asses that i have mad crushes on!  no, seriously, like, far more obese than you.  they physical phattniss is not my beef.  no.  kinda. niss.  that which matters most.

pro.  techt.  i used the word “overproduction” today, more than necessary.  oh fuck that.  when one is versed in the square-footage density of the most urban of urbans.  turb[o]ans?  not.  likely.  snarf.  what? day, is today a? [papers, business…. papers].  and what business are you in, sir?  banking.

lol.  you should of herd that’n.  a bit of a gigglepuss.  fucking super-scientists.  whatever.  we’re saving our vagina power for one so intense, she will make every single one of you, male and female, cum whenever you see her.  then, whenever you hear her.  then, whenever you think of her.  happy go lucky.  what game need you, heir of net-workedness?  your wish is my command.  wield thee wisely, this wring of pow-rrr and do-dorka-hedronically-sided swords4 four hundred, for intentional bottle-knecking will shirley reslut in dictatorial intervention.  that, good sir, is one hell of a design.  you have made yourself judge, jury, and executioner, while making every other your agent, by default.

well, when we sign people up, we ask them how much interaction they prefer with people.  then, we let them view the profiles and introductory videos in their favorite people, and then those are the only people they interact with.  sometimes, they choose people who are not all that quick with the jobs that they do.  this does not cost our clients additional money, for each person’s contribution is as valuable as every other’s.  it’s kind of funny, because we have these old rich dudes who derive so much pleasure from having a very [particular age range of boys/girls]/[specific personality]/[similarly verbally oriented soul] work on their property, that certain jobs make us obscene amounts of money, to accomplish nothing at all.  basically, some rich person gets to waste/use/occupy the time of a team of incredibly attractive (to them, anyway) people, for whatever purposes we/they see fit.

hey, the dictator is fucking you up the ass right now.  feel it.  feel your anus gently relaxing to such an extreme degree that his large erect penis is capable of being gently and enjoyably inserted, to such a point that your hips are in unison.  reciprocity by desire, decontamination by viological necessity.  viability?  vagiability?  vannity and combs?  werd.

*giggles*  catheter is on my brain vein.  think it over.  i know i sound of urgency, but i am not.  and, i have taken my own sweet time with many who have given me their personal gospel truth, and chosen non-interaction to my ignant isolation.  i welcome your feed, back.  also, less capable than previously, for the infliction.  i receive the most violent rather gently now.  our internal generators accept fuels including hate.  on planet retard, there is not a more sustainable energy source.  touché.

he is past.  has been past, since i have known him.  it.  seems no animosity of direction, either.  yeah, i know it’s ridiculous that people still try to tell others which direction that their toilet ought to flush here, but deep down, everyone knows it doesn’t really have anything to do with the way it will ultimately go, anyway.  anywhoozer.  we love you.

i love you. tylerloves you. tylertavy loves you. tylertavy kelm mertes loves you. tylertavy dawn singer ella george falkenrath messich loves you. tylertavy isherwood malek whitefeather self lantz loves you beyond recognition.

my phone: [ring]
me: “hello?”
mp: “my name is tyler and i’m with [whoever the fuck he said].  is there a registered voter in the household i could speak with?”
me: “no.”
mp: “thanks for your time.” [click]

good one, shaggy.  politicos, you’re not even going to get more than a few seconds of my time. Virginia, did it say that one was from?  is it a red-letter day that we answered our phone, non-annoyedly, from a number which was not programmed into?  that is an event, motha mu chach, ohs.  what do you need, son?  i used the word hellion today.  when honest with geniuses regarding one’s personal quirks, honest knowledgability, and necessary inputs are addressed, fertility abounds.  am i the one who left?  today, briefly, yes.  this treatise is composed upon sacred soil.  by their contact, my reverence.  such are the seeds of the mother/father.  timeless logic, impeccable design, and unabashed love.

for each day that a participant chooses solitude over interaction, each other participant may submit expiring criticism or timeless love, in their honor.  the sweet woman upon whose property we work appreciates my filter.  also, she despises my lack of filter and requires that of my compatriots, both.  a triad stands upon three points.  no single point will weather the natural fluctuations of any resilient system.

any time a property under our umbrella requires intervention, this is a celebration.  the droves turn out, and the work gets done without calculation, for those have long been completed.  once implanted, the virus is jugger-naught-esque.  pow.  pissing.

(7:39 pm.)

(7:42 pm) leaked, turned overhead light on (awfully dark in here, minus the internals, it was) another beer, another dollar.  philosophy was our major.  if this forces you to consider all of yours, so be it.

the most beautiful thing about being dictator, was that every soul with whom it interacted, was capable of determining its own particular interaction with said fascist.  you want a fight?  that’s what a guru is.  one who never turns away from a fight.  focus your violence.  intensify it and learn to redirect it in self-beneficial ways.  or die.  doesn’t really matter to us.  we force confrontation of the self.  no more, no less.  we hold neither judgment, nor punches.  if you say or do something which results in your death, consider it a deserve’d honor.  for that is all we deliver.

i miss my tweets.  are we about done with the pont[oonif]ication?  about.  quite.

lovely, you are.  cute and adorable as well.  effervescent and glowing.  lovable, beautiful, and melodious to the ears.  gentle to the touch.  honest.  this is us bowing and scraping, with eye contact, hand-shake, and a curtsey.  or a nooner.  it’s really up to you.

7:59 pm.  launches iron simultaneous with the commencement of dimension 303. catheter.

lol. mog email has jpeg of greaser side-burned gaga.  fancy.  sweetheart, i want to make my first sex-tape with you.  how else would i launch my career?  oprah can’t get me up.  i don’t know how it even works.  chappelle called her, i think.  oh, miss ga.  i would gladly stick my penis into you on HD.  how many people do you even know who will do that?  ok, millions, probably.  but how many of them do you care about?  none, huh?  never mind, then.  i’m sure the planet will learn the timeless knowledge of all pervious generations by osmosis, or something.  oh, are you kidding?  look closely at the dna of your gods and goddesses, dear reader, for our imprint is unmistakable.  whether toward our direction or purpose, or in its contra-positive, the tracks are clear.  the length of the sideburns is perfect.  Cherokee, indeed.

tweeting.  8:07

holy fucking beautiful.  i’m so glad we kicked you out of the house.  it is the sole reason for the relationship that we have today, which i would describe as, perfect.

my benefactor has given me full power of attorney regarding these matters.  oh, why any matters which you require that he be bothered in real life.  yes, specifically.  what do you need?  more forms?  we are publicizing your waste of paper and relative logical incoherence.  we are the primary defense mechanism.  we are the first line of defense.  the queen guards the front door, and her effectiveness in doing so frees the pawns to develop into majors, managers, and meta-generators.  such is growth.  such is life.

i told him today that his fart smelled as bad as his cancer sticks, or worse.  in punishment, my farts have smelled horribly awful tonight.  far worse than normal.  apples?  there can’t be that much poison in un-sprayed apples, can there?  there is.  fuck.  son, your very name elicits strength, understanding, and reverence in me.  more family than family.

fish paste is the number one suggestion for that video i jes watched.  kewl.

love, rockettes.  crimeny.  mmm hmm.

if i had a faster computer, I would have x by now.

know your the contreversial won.

twetstarr.  plasma cuttrrz.  it.

“if that line art is any indication, i would totally fuck your brain zout.” sickstee seven tweet?  negative maths. 12:58 pmz.

sen sword again.  prolly.  whatever.  we make our points.  cripes.  crasy, the site, eh?  ahoy, fellow weirdo.  Namaste.  amen.

it’s 3:03 am, and i am supposed to be at work at 7:30 tomorrow morning.  four and a half hours from now.  sleep when you’re dead.  so, yeah.  now is fine.

i signaled offa twitter, and i’m pretty f’n schnockerr’d.  pretty..  spring is here again!  but isn’t it nearly faul?  oh cripes.  nature is a whore.  kurdt.  that bloggist mai have a something, with that theory.  self-harmony.  with a few hundred, even, someone will know the words and assist.  aerdrumlinz. a. puh-schaww!  we ought to nap a bit before another day of roofing, dontcha think?  yes.  quite.  that ones’ most definitely a cop.  well, control of her avatar, but that’’’’s what it is.  hmm.  well.  put.

all that i have learned was in preparation for now.  may it serve you similarly.  or disembowel you as the violent fascist poison addict that you are.  we git paid irregardless.

fuukkkkk.  home slice done, naw.  fer, … serious?  now, seriously?  that… shits’ fucked, that.  yeeah, twisted.  sweets, no.  stay away from that one.  dirty things, it will teach you.  if you can stay sober for a week.  never.  bliss is 3/$1 5% beers. amen.

legal, totalers.

p.s. it’s 3:49 am, and we got no internet.  peachy.  sleepsy.

next day, 7:39 pm.

today was possibly the longest, most painful day i have ever had.  i tried not to complain, but i couldn’t help it.  i got dizzy up on the roof and had to go puke in the woods.  then i took a nap in my car.  they were kinda amused, maybe.  i work better sober, eh.  i don’t know what got into me last night.  well, yeah, beer.  but why?  writing.  channeling Hemingway or something.  i have to stay awake to get my laundry and bread out of their respective machines.

so, i left a sink full of warm soapy water for my roommate because she was cooking some stuff.  she drained it and left the dirty pan in the sink.  that’s just mean.  if you can’t be logical and efficient, at least don’t undo the work that i’ve done and waste resources.  what is wrong with people.  can nobody see common decency any more?  we’ll see if i end up washing it anyway.  i have no idea of any odds.

i’m being challenged by sexist violence constantly at work.  these are the popular, the professionals.  are they?  is anyone, really, that?  i don’t like swearing, even when i do it.  “jokes” about people are not funny to me.  i do not laugh at others expense or pain.  your playful ribbing hurts me, physically.  i have said all there is to say.  i now only want sleep.  yes, let’s.  shall we post this.  i think so.

i enjoy your company, but you are a poison emitter.  detox is all i do.  well, that and farming and carpentry, and roofing.  the laundry is nearly done.  bread will be another hour.  my tweeting last night got stupid.  doesn’t it usually.  i guess.  oh sorry, i’ll give you a discount next time around.  a refund?

i hurt myself today. “No copyright intented!” heh.  good stuff.

you only think i am a loser creep because you’re the addicted violent.  they don’t see themselves as that, you know.  some do.  that’s a completely unacceptable way to speak to someone.  it doesn’t matter what harm has been done to you, to commit those acts of verbal violence is beyond not cool.  if you push me until you get a reaction, that reaction may be your death.  and my self-defense argument will be well formulated, if not test-delivered to you before-hand.  why must every single thing be an act of aggression?  i know we’re in war culture central.  that doesn’t mean you have to participate in it.  you want to be a rebel?  be nice to everyone you see.  be nice to everyone you don’t see.  be nice to everyone who can hear what you san, and everyone who cannot hear anything that you say.  help people in the ways that you know how and be explicit about what it is that you want so that they can help you get it.  well, think about it, then.

she started making a bunch of noise right after i said i was going to bed.  clearly, i haven’t yet.  my head hurts.  my sole hurts.  my body hurts.  she has no time for me.  she, like the rest of my family, tolerates me as much as is necessary.  this is how we all interact.  everyone hating everyone else, trying to figure out how to scam the other for money, time, or whatever.  your disclosure is for shit.  this proves you’re a liar.

all i get is hurt.  it is my karma.  sensitive to too many things in a world of toxic competition.  zero violence is tolerable.  rare violence is completely unacceptable.  positive encouragement is the rule.  as an artist, my livelihood depends on my ability to maintain a happy vibe.  every time you verbally assault me (every. single. time), you knock me out of that state.  in other words, you are starving me with these cruel words.  by ignoring all that i do.  i am a heartless bastard.  so are you.  get over it.  your inaction will not save you.  i want to crawl into a hole and die.  smally.  what will convince the culture of destruction and war that it should cooperate with itself?

i have no fucking idea. (8:45 pm)

~ by LazyAssWasteoid on 2011-09-21 (Wednesday).

2 Responses to “iDon’t remember tv”

  1. Amazing. What a mind. And you are right about so much. Your voice and thought are important. They are needed. You are not alone.


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