do i remember this song?  that question kicked me out of my funk.  that or the fresh beer.  fooding and showering imminent, also.

nobody that knows anything about anything is willing to help me.  they enjoy telling me that they are capable of doing so, but whatever.  at least i’m making money.

life and careers after yale?  i’ve had neither.  i didn’t even have a life when i was AT yale.  universally hated.  poor people are supposed to be lazy, asshole.  no.  i am me.

cripes.  it’s October already?  it breaks the everything monopoly, of all of them.  yes.  you have to give it all up.  you might as well do it like taking off a band-aid from hair, quick and all at once.  or is that the torturous family method.  either way.

fucking Christ.  you know how much of a torture it is having me in love with you.  don’t put yourself through that torture again.  i mean, don’t take it above a low simmer. it boils over easily.  get your words ready ahead of time, or composed alone, and convey information.  your aura may be clarified in this way as well.  your face is a fucking theory.

overpriced shit, priced too. hi.

twitter’s down 8:24.  probably for the best.  i was getting’ kinda feisty.  the world doesn’t know how to take me regalurr, let alone feisty.  crimeny.  baby doll, i could build you that house out of contractor scraps.  acquire land, enslave it.  there is no such thing as a x.  i call shenanigans.  she. nan iGens. yes, rest peacefully, a’paul’myn. and forever fuck your proprietariness.  capitalist dick.  no, whatever.  good at design and programming you may have been, you’re just another greedy fucking capitalist.  fuck you.

yeah, wait’ll you die.  you’d wish you’d gotten even that much.  i fart in your general direction.  pfft.  squeaker.  and it smells like tropical fruit.  neener.

next day (Thursday, 8:44 pm) farts smell like rotten.  i’ve been roofing and eating junk food for dinner.  i was starving, and we finished inAppletonat 6:30.  i ate my lunch for lunch, and was up on a roof in the sun, and hand-nailing shingles (the second nailer blew a gasket) I AM A ROOFING NAILER.  My arms got tired while hanging precariously off of a short roof and nailing shingles by hand.  two easy swings put each nail into place.  usually.  framing?  don’t even.  i will race you.  slow and steady wins the rayce.  cards.  angelic.  that’s fucking cool.

see, govermint is involved, so now it’s ok.  product.  i fucking hate the word product.  it’s so inspecific and vague.  it’s fucking soylent green.  my boss at the ice cream shop, yeah, the mother of the one who fired me later, called the ice cream, “product.”  oh, you’re not wrong, walter.  same as that fucking poison peddler on the radio.  preying on shared nostalgia and addictions.  fuck you and your llc.  if you’re not cooperating with your friends, neighbors, and family, you’re still competing against them.  why are you still so bitter?  why are you still homeless?  this music is shit.  fuck jazzsides.  worst jazz selections ever.  douchebag jazz.  that’s as bad as douchebag country, douchebag rock, douchebag blues, and douchebag rap.  you are all these things.  i know.  i’m a self-loathing douche.  that’s sexist, too.  right?  only the self-loathers actually know how to be racist/sexist.  yesah, most of it is that.  yes, most.  the corporate stuff, anyway.  real people tend to make real music.  true love don’t sell oil, yo.

these people should give me a job.  or, many jobs.  i’m doing manual labor over here for, well, for living wages and for an old friend, who i still happen to like.  i like people who work hard.  at least while they’re working hard.  if they get all uppity, i don’t like that, but i continue to love them.  seriously, i will gut/stab/terrify a person to make them stop attacking me, physically or verbally.  that has nothing to do with my love for them.  natural law.  waste not.  want, not.  my texts, to invite people to jobs, would include hourly wage, starting time and location. rsvp in five if you’re interested.  if it takes three texts and i still don’t have a time and location, you’re wasting my time.  forgiven.

i ate a bag of Doritos earlier.  also, cheese curds and pizzeria pretzel combos.  now i’m mowing down on twizzlers cherry bites.

finished the bytes for a mid-morning snack today (Friday, October 07, 2011 8:50 PM) and received half-payment for services rendered as a retainer.  i have “a tip” as a good faith worth my while.  the vague and indirect annoy me to no end. time wasters.  let’s go build something useful.  the capability of this network is off the charts.  what? work hard. play hard.  lunch hard, break hard.  snap.

grilled cheese for dinner.  must acquire good flours and beans from the pointy town.  mp3 player is reloaded.

why am i thinking about you now all the time.  ‘cuz you’re badass, that’s why.  tougher than nails.  i have been roofing.  nails are a part of my life again.  god, i fucking love pounding nails.  constructive destruction of matter.  transformation and re-attachment of matter.  re-purposing of matter, space, and human interactions.

every time you smoke a cigarette/sip that soda/tune me out, i want to take a hit.  i would almost rather you went back to a non-toxic upper like nutritious food or a girlfriend.  nirvana is the absence of want, the un-need of accumulation.  thin client of healing.

holy fucking gawd.  now, i’m in love with your face.  best. self-favorite. ever.

used sparingly, anything is useful.  everyone is beautiful.  without exception.  quit acting so ugly and you’ll cease to be offended by the things i say and do.

lips, eyebrows, shoulders, hair and eyes, nose and chin, cheeks and neck.  these are now the parts of you in which i am. in love.  deal with it.  that’s what you do.  hey.

no, you quote Rollins band inappropriately.  i didn’t put quotes.  fine, you rip off the Rollins band inappropriately.

☮ iola-scandinavia, ♥ wi, ☯usa


i feel pretty awful.  sore everywhere.  i don’t want to go anywhere.  it works tonite at the terminal.  detox dump.

well, now look what it says in your e-mail.  if she can’t make me sad, she’ll want to make me fat.  she only ever wants for me those things which make me miserable.  anything that puts me anywhere near happiness, she despises.  such is the other half of my parentage.

if you don’t want to work with me, i don’t ever want to work with you again.  you have dug your heels in as the enemy, the upholder of evil.  going away now.  hate you.  glad you’re not here, stay the fuck away from me.  the offer is on the table.  whatever.  the average visionaries are already aligning in my wake. lol. who are you? i am LAW. oh.

i’m not going to volunteer again.  why not?  because a proposal is on the table that you’re refusing to acknowledge.  all kinds of things are on the table that you’re refusing to acknowledge.  you should talk, phone answerer.  what?  i gotta get my ear chewed off by mean people on the clock?  fuck your time-wasting, asshead.  i read what you texted.  i give you more information than you deserve, because, fuck, it’s all public anyway.  the decision to open one’s life is not something you can go back on.  that doesn’t even make any sense?  look who’s talking.  shut up, i loved that movie.  bruce almighty.  not even.  yup, for sure.

i feel much better.  thanks, brain.  the best thing about being a fascist is never needing to say you’re sorry.  we’re not.  some coarse things need to be said, and we’re just the guys to do it.  oh my god.  dictator just took out the last frat boys that were left in here.  they disappeared like the cartoon perils that they were.

i dislike telephones.  ok.  i see we need embrace LazyAssWasteoid.  fully.  it’s about as gentle as i could have made it, you know.  thinking about any of that gives her a headache.  if she thinks about that, she also thinks about having abandoned you for it, as she has been abandoned by those before.  yes, we know.  so?  may her headache be the aneurysm that ultimately puts her out of here misery, then.  how is that not wishing for the best?  the hateful shall perish from their own hate.  zombies, all.  take a chainsaw to you before you get anywhere near me.

wait until i start posting “you are the meanest person i’ve ever met in my entire life, x.  love, LazyAssWasteoid, you’re former y.”  is that really necessary.  i hope not.  s/he knows what they must do.  open the books.  fuck off.  burn in hell.  right?

international ranting blog style.  redefined.  i would rather get drunk by myself with my own noises than watch you waste all the resources you’ve accumulated.  that’s not fair.  who says the whole truth is fair?  each perspective is its own reality.  if you’re not working with me at this point in my life, you’re the worst kind of leech.  capitalist competition for resources is cannibalism.  yes, it is.

i don’t like your need to know attitude about the important things.  you can spend all your time making up your mind, but the inaction is an act.  your self-paralysis is a deliberate thing, for which you should accept responsibility.  so, i should be sewing, then?  you should be cutting the tv and radio’s cords to your brain.  you should cancel all your magazine subscriptions and bring as many people as you know to stay on and work your property.  anything else is half-assed, and a continuation of evil.  fuck your little hill of beans.  we have to work together, closer than any concept of family that has ever existed, but without the jealous competition.  yes, it’s entirely possible, in you, right. fucking. now.  go.  this is work, and this is production, and i have no interest in spending my time getting drunk watching you waste yours.  i’m gonna get drunk wasting my own time, typing away as if anybody on planet retard slave gave a flying fuck about his or her respective self.  you all piss me off so fucking much.  i will not be able to tolerate your collective cruelty much longer.  probably, i’ll move.  i will take one cute dog from the area along with me, invite many others.  standing invite.  fuck them all, they don’t want in.  why stay and enable that self-destruction?  there has to be a voice of reason amongst the insanity.  and a willing fighter to the death, if that’s what you’re gonna claim to want, i’ll take it.  have at you!

well that’s a bit past due, don’t you think?  that’s just crass.  project much?  ah, but i have never claimed not to be a(n) x.  i recognize this in myself, and i accept it for what it is.  i am over it.  eat/suck a(n) x.  i refuse to accept your confrontational means of approaching any and everything.  capitalism is not an acceptable means of contract negotiations.  not to mention, your aura is full of hooks and blocks and black holes.  petty tyrant, i can relieve you of your pain only if you release yourself first.  demons, let my family go.

they heard you.  i know.  fuck you for not telling me that you read my blog.  fuck you for not using your real name on twitter.

once under the umbrella of LazyAssWasteoid, you and your property have the most powerful protection under the sun.  the right of consensus block, the exact same right that each and every one of us will have once we let go of this hateful charade of a “democracy” for once and for all.

you have a rather lofty opinion of yourself, don’t you.  i am dirt.  i am a mirror.  hate is so deeply ingrained in this culture, i grasp at its roots and pull, with barbaric yaup powering my tug.  rrrrrRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRR.  demons, let my people go.  you must address these root aspects of your actions before they may become beneficial acts.  otherwise, you’re only spinning your wheels.  aren’t they all.  yes, in fact they are.  knock it the fuck off before i knock you on your fucking ass.

fooding.  6:23 pm.

my friend, the guy i’ve been roofing for, stopped over tonight, unannounced, kinda drunk.  i thanked him.  i also said as much fucked up shit to his face as i tend to say in this blog.  he offered to pay for electricity on the property where he offered me a place to stay.  i’d feel like a heel if i gave a fuck.

3:20 am

5:04 pm, the next day.  piddled away many an hour these last 24.  i won’t get 30 miles trying to go on my own.  they all know that.  then why do they keep fighting with me?  it’s all they know.  you know this.  i know you’re used to bolting when they’re done, when they’re self-sufficient.  that’s the part you have to stick around for, this time.

any time you go anywhere it could be a deathtrap.  when has this not been the case?  you don’t learn to plan for every contingency by not playing through potential scenarios.  multi-thread processing.  he glares like me.  i know you, sir.  i have no ill will towards you.  we can be beneficial to each other, but only if you let others determine pace on occasion.  also, be clear about that which bothers you.  if contrary to your experience is your only objection, once expressed, it will be bypassed.  block without reason, block out of spite, block out of personal control parameters… these are not acceptable reasons to prevent a project from going forward.  especially when as many able-bodied/minded people sit idly by while you fumble with your over-abundance.  let us help you heal and enrich the biological nature of our mother earth.  that is why we’re here.

passion, patience, gifts from god.  you know what to do.

5:21 pm.  first beer of the evening is nearly done, and it’s about twitter time.  Tuesday crowd.  don’t we have other things to do?  of course.  but this is most fun.  ok.

scanner?  we need a bigger workspace.  no, just clean this one.  oh, ok.

i strongly dislike introductory messages.  get to the point.  ask what you want to ask.  give times.  i don’t like co-time-wasting  whether it be by phone or text.  i dislike that plans are made without me and then i’m informed at the last minute.  i don’t enjoy competitive time, and pretty much, that’s all you got.

so, we go strict data-only.  flyweight code.  he gets it.  if you’re going to maintain your strict right to be confrontational, i maintain my strict right to keep my time around you supervised, work-related, and detail-oriented.

twitter, you save me.  mad love.

~ by LazyAssWasteoid on 2011-10-11 (Tuesday).

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