if it went
it would say things like “you starve me, with every single act that you do, every single day. HHAAAAYYYYY!!!” and then it would get arrested, because nobody respectable ever got themselves yelled at like that, just walking out of work at the bank, being only a teller and all. the executives? they have the place surrounded. give me one good reason we should let them live? they lock up more resources and land in greed than anyone else, by far. who do you think the 1% is in this town? them and the lawyers.
don’t act all terrified of the shit it actually says. the shit that goes through my head, holy fuck, you have no idea. your every corporate participation, dear consumer, is in direct opposition to MY VERY SURVIVAL. I can legally kill you in self defense, for that thing, right there. there is no honor amongst any in uniform. it’s just another plastic shell that disguises all the poisonous shit underneath.
why are you so bitter? how did you get so wasteful? so blind? don’t answer that, but think about it. i know. i went through the same thing. only, what takes you years, i can do in milliseconds, even retro-actively. i have lived this planet backwards and forwards, up and down, and i critique my own acts at each and every level, just as i critique each and every one of you. this is not bitterness. this is an outright honest explanation of the world as i see it. it’s an ugly, violent thing, and the ability to see past that to the underlying usefulness and beauty is essential to our growth, as families, as individuals, as communities, cliques, societies, and socio-economic divisions. yes, them, too.
they know, all those increasingly drunk, grey-haired, fat old men. they have no sociability within the confines of “home” because they themselves beat that loving tenderness out of each and every member of the household, spouses, partners, children, guests, and pets.
every single proposal that comes out, for a thing, an entity that is sorta like skyscaper permaculture, or LazyAssWasteoid InDousTrees, is sponsored by the very organization that wishes to kill it. if i were the head of Monsanto, i would invest in LAW. survival, yo. the exact same reason i advocate any and all of this shit. your fucking survival. fuck you if you can’t see that.
i feel like biking. i feel like dying. i am in so many types of pain. i have made it clear to both of my parents that they will not meet my children, if i ever have any. they seem not to care. what a waste. you can’t have expected us to come from honorable stock, did you? worthless piece of shit. yep. he’s said it on numerous occasions. her dismissive, pursed-lip head-shake does it even better. what am i doing here? you don’t have anywhere else to go, you fucking asshole. yup.
i am so sick of hearing people say that i isolate myself. they lie to my face, and refuse to address the most critical, life-supporting things that there are, and they tell me the reason i don’t want to be around competitive people is my fault. fuck you.
why do i feel so shitty? because you haven’t done anything for three days. i haven’t done anything for three years. technically, we didn’t do anything before that. ok, fine, three decades. when i was five, was the last time i finished anything useful. there ya go.
11:11 pm, and i’m still here. getting the fuck out is the next step, isn’t it? i have no idea. every time you try to plan out “the next step,” you get disappointed. find yourself some meds, retard. if you don’t fix you mood, nothing else will improve. trust us, we know you. are you really getting condescending with me? quit being such a fucking baby and we won’t have to.
it’s noon-oh-six the next day, and we’re relatively accomplished, thanks coffee. rain, too, seems to put us into productivity mode. all of its potential slave masters have not the foresight to keep it busy on rainy days. they don’t want me putting them to work, because i’d keep them busy even while they’re sleeping. standards, yo. maximum hours, and honesty. i know that’s too much for you to handle. i’m just going to sit here and fucking scream in your face until you wake the fuck up and let me help. any time now.
deep http://youtu.be/__uekZ9v95U in my body
armchair critics. yes, i’m one of those. i’m open source, and running for actual office of this retarded system that y’all want to nurse back to health. electing someone like me would do that. oh, but you don’t want to elect someone “like me.” you don’t even want to know what “someone like me” is. ok. enjoy your retarded self-imposed death sentence, then. stay the fuck out of my way, and quit wasting my time.
chatter. heh. yeah, me too. heh. or talk, gossip, babble, chat. ok.
i want my pocket computer to make that un-scabbarding sound. schwing. hm. this movie is about what i expected. good to watch in lo-fi, and on a computer where you can turn down the noisy parts and skip the extra-super-corporate-offensive stuff. this is a movie based on a video game, isn’t it? they’re all the media. medium? same. i do enjoy the uploader comment, “i do not own anything that has to do with this movie.” i want to comment, “what? go dumpster you a movie poster or a cardboard vhs case from an old rental place, if those even exist.” see? you don’t want me needing to connect with the public world. all that comes to me is stupid, idiotic shit. i’m glad you’re here. all a youse. if i had handlers someone could be feeding me a line, but no. what the fuck? youtube is my life. you have never been good at paragraphs, have you. umm, no? where’s the new thought up in here? where’s the anything? restriction on “audience?” fuck. some of these zombies are like jumping vampire zombies. hotties and dickheads. girls that are badass dudes and dudes who are violent asshole douchebags. trust me, internationals, Americans, mostly, ain’t like that. they’re mostly church-going, wal/k-mart/target/grocery-store shopping, brain-dead. zombies. people who get confused and quit speaking to you forever if your “arguments” (and they must be that) don’t contain one of the two sides presented by their beloved tv.
the military contractors of the world are the only companies that would be anywhere near what my vehicle fleet could be. nasa? nasa builds movie sets. fuck nasa. i’m talking Lockheed Martin and shit. blog, you’re making me miss the movie. good. it’s the bird scene anyway. crazy. this movie rips off every movie ever! that’s cool. heh.
so, the only lines you get in big budget movies now are reinforcement of gender stereotypes, distressed grunts, or snide assholishness. money is evil. that flock was expensive. killer birds. killer cgi birds. it’s all a game, remember. specimen 87.
dictator, give me something to do. meditating is something. so is writing. so is consuming this poisonous trash so they believe you are one of them. nobody thinks that of you any more. they stay away because they cling to the “them” of their fantasies. reality is sturdier.
yay, church hugs. pat pat. i envelop with my hugs. g’nite, sweets.
free text. we must demand free text. the right to have our voices public, and to communicate with other humans is now so common and inexpensive that it ought to be a gov’t given right. if we were an advanced society, such would be the case. hate-mongers, you are all.
“that’s awesome.” –me, with a mouthful of gorp, at vegas swallowed by the desert. this is amazing capitalist trash. and complaining. how American. vehicles are pretty badass, though. zombie killing with blades. then, it’s the pretty girls killing the ugly grunting people-eaters. chunk of arm. dammit! we need that helicopter intact. that’s pretty badass. oh shut up, i’m a sucker for this kind of entertainment. “you’re out of control.” heh. that’s pretty wicked. where did that thing come from? maybe i should pay attention to this. heh.
this is straight out of a video game, isn’t it? the steering wheel hand-jigggle. way to not get to the gate, jerk. oh, i guess it had to work. i suppose. see, this is why i’m not a military starteegerist. stratejerrian. aww. so cute. and in the intact helicopter. right, like it’s not an ad for the huey/chopper, too. whatever. the zombies outside the fence are pretty dumb, what since the fence been busted through. am i missing something here. probably. just watch, babbly. what ever. aflutter again. why do you do that to me? you need it. you live only for your loves, at this point. some of them even know it.
your blood has bonded with the t-virus. word.
movie flashlight sweep, in perfect swat-cop military stance. wargasm, wargasm, 1, 2, 3.
sliding flesh after lazer-dicing. perfect. and it ends on the matrix pods. is that a spoiler? uhh, probably. anyone who wanted to see that movie has seen it by now. ok. fair enough.
the Charlie clouser mix of white rabbit. nice. probably. i’m checking the credits. ooh, douchey guitars. i had to mute the later credits songs. too awful for even my ears. a hookah-smoking caterpillar, eh? one a them animals. aminals? baths! hum bugger. hi. i know exactly what i need. nice people who acknowledge my existence. other than that, work me like the horse that i am. shouldn’t be too difficult, huh?
i’m watching another resident evil movie. good for you. well, it’s fan-made. i may not be watching this one, even though it works full-screen. k found the next one, broken into 15-minute chunks, but it works full-screen.
i’m now watching the movie before the one i just watched. search youtube for resident evil apocalypse full movie, and add them to a playlist, in order. it takes a while. youtube is not exactly a site that is known for ease of use, but you can cobble together some relatively useful, educational, and informative shit, if you know how it works.
is that danny bonaduce? fucking gingers. ooh. full full-screen. fancy. only now, the audio doesn’t match. fun. heh.
it was almost better when i couldn’t see it. head shots galore.
what’s the story with those skinless dogs anyway? skirt and lots of flesh, standard.
so, youtube is rickrolling on its own. wonderful.
afterlife, watching now. loving, also. 10.5 minutes in. clone army of hotties. so beautiful.
saw green lantern, too. it was decent, i guess. ryan reynolds is good. not as good as he was in Van Wilder, but yeah.
it’s now 1:29 am, and i’m getting some sleep.
can i impress you with how little i made last year? ‘cuz really, it’s pretty impressive that i was able to survive at all. let alone thrive, as i do. right, this is thriving, you whiny bastard. indeed. i feel their pain. i must. the only one they will listen to is one in their same type of pain. so it is.
- █❤█ █❦█ █♣█ █✿█ steeny http://youtu.be/xsiht-Be_Rg i love you!
- (sounds http://youtu.be/9F4os8XlS3U liek)
uguiiizze, i’m in love with a grrl-sung band called ratboy. :] you’re in love with everything. they think you’re kidding. how do you want it? youtube now has flight of the navigator, disney’s robin hood, fantasia, men in tights.
i don’t have any more beer, and i’m not buying any. nor have i made any attempts to replenish my supply of tolerable meds.
●_◀ quit making faces at me. no. ◀_◀
heh. seriously, dude, you’re gonna make us endure this shit with no beer? a fully beer-free reality? fuck you. i mean, i’m sure you have your reasons, boss. “thain’t no way! we’ve got ta, Johnny.” one oh two, something. for your holidays, i stay home and watch movies by myself. and yell about those holy daze by my lonesome. it’s like a tradition. you have gone completely off the deep end. yes, but i got here inching my way from the shallow end. we have full screenage. my computer is maxed out with this, though. graphics pushed too far. robin hood is a dancer fox. rocking the snake to sleep while he loads up the loot.
he burns down his own castle tower to get one guy. i suppose.
puffy white sleeves. robin hood gets married in a letter jacket. “well folks, that’s the way it really happened.” don’t you love how corporations are so blatantly lying whenever they say something authoritative-sounding? me do too. oh, the movies. men in tights? yup.
seriously, who else’s reality should i give a fuck about? yours? all you want to do is disparage me, call me mean things, yet continue to label me “smart.” fuck all that. mel brooks is funny. what’s with the mood tonight, you ask? i dunno. youtube been friendly, and i forgot dave chappelle’s in this. life stinks is on here, too. lol. mel brooks fest. i dunno, it’s what i grew up with. reminds me of a time when shit was all win-win funny. the good ol’ days when we all believed the horrible lies.
i could… hip hop contains more words, so you can word more stuff. you know? like say it. no other music form could contain all the shit i wanna blather about. this is like crappy home movies bad. “your back just got punched twice.”
was this advanced comedy when it came out, or is this making fun of every other robin hood movie ever made? key. like the ratboy song! castles and keys, ratboy. swoon.
this movie is outright insane. he didn’t like saying that line, but i laughed at it. kids love the reference. he was great! Nathan? sputtering. oh, the royal stage garb. how fun. oh, the vanity. “we’ll bless them all until we get ferschnickered.” amen. heh.
way to reference your own movie. now what? it’s ten to 8. i’m sick of my shit, too. how do i start over. how do i reset. hard reboot. rebuild, from the operating system up.
let’s not go throwing the baby out with the bathwater. we have assets. we have allies. the allies are ready, aim fire, then? gorp, sir? another movie perhaps? go buy another case of beer if you’re gonna cry about it. or, get some sleep and get something done tomorrow. it’s a weekend. you don’t have weekends, you workaholic. far from it. well, without beer we’re going to have to be, eventually. sobriety is frightfully boring. and how. you’re really going to make me put on a suit and go campaign the douchebag way? the suit will either be custom-modded/fit, or not happen at all ever.
i don’t want to look at pictures of you, watch videos, or hear your voice over a telephone! i want to stick my tongue in your numerous orifices. perhaps not all. but perhaps all. you never know. right? again with the tmi line. actually, it’s a pretty solid part of my philosophy that “untoward” acts be de-shunnified and be spoken of without discomfort or dismissal. we all go through life. let us speak of reality as human beings. we may actually learn something from one another. wouldn’t that be nice.
gawd, where does that voice come from? oh, have you not been watching this corporate propaganda with us? honestly. judgy, judgy. double-edged swords and inside jokes. dismissal and respect. these reindeer games are a joke. puh-shaw!
heh. wrong. you partner up with the one you want to share food-gathering/preparing with. fucking is for baby-making and special occasions. yeah, right. not to mention, healthful nutrition is a predictor of future results. that’s like a $10 jar of raw organic cashews you’re scarfing there, kiddo. i be raw when i can. i wonder how the Chinese peanut packing facility that packs these peanuts dries them. they’re very dry. they go good with the gooey “co-op” dried fruits. they must add water. figures. capitalists. it’s sold by weight. your profit starves me. this is the distinction you must get through your thick fucking skulls. skimping on anyone’s nutrition is poisoning me, you, all of us. are you getting preachy again? you don’t eat all that well. i do what i can, and i’m trying to explain a state of health that few have experienced. i’m not even there anymore myself. i’ve become a fat, lazy, pained slob just like the rest of you. enjoy your victory. if you still think that way, fucking off and dying is the next order. hop to it.
hey, if you’re gonna believe that someone ought to give you “orders” or “directions,” it may as well be me. because i can talk to over a thousand of you simultaneously. yuh huh. this place is full of double-edged swords. you’re not wasting my time, you’re wasting these people’s time. oh. ahh.
i clicked on flight of the navigator again, and it went back to where i left off. that’s kinda trippy magic, youtube. you are being a nice database today. thanks for all the entertainment. hey, kid, yelling that you have a gun if/when you don’t really have a gun is a bad policy. not very good logic, that. it’s probably why you got abducted by aliens, kiddo.
i think i learned all my ways of interacting from movies. disjointed and manipulative. paranoid psychopath. “it’s a him. actually, it’s a them.”
smug little rat. he still doesn’t understand that he doesn’t have to say stuff out loud for it to register in his brain. nasa got all kinds of white-uniformed rent-a-cops, don’t they.
there’s lots of repeated yelling in this movie. when they stop yelling at each other, they’re kinda sweet. arguing about which route to take. nice.
face licks from the puppy. back in time where everything’s awesome and they don’t have music videos like this. cripes. can we all go back before this. why do you keep the link in your blog if you want to erase it from your brain? it’s history now. sighroll. can i shake my head while i sighroll? probably. it looks stupid, but it can be done. well then do it, for pete’s sakes!
we’re watching Friday now. it’s like we have lo-fi pay-per view, but for free! this is barely vhs quality. hey, be glad it’s widescreen. i don’t care at all. i get the idea, and i am not a contributor to this horrible, violent society. i don’t care.
i always get fired on my day off. when i’m there, working like a workhorse, nobody can bear to fire my stoner ass. chris tucker is funny. stimulate your mind.
why you bringin’ up old shit? well, i ain’t gonna tell anybody else.
now i’m watching the carter, a documentary about lilwayne. he was a child star, right? he’s been an industry professional all his life, huh. 11 or 12. he’s been on the road. “it’s nothing to me.” how could that feeling not be everything?
people gotta leave. people got to be able to do what they want and need to do. he is a kid, an artist, enjoying what he does. do everything good.
i don’t know where i am. i don’t know where along the spectrum i land. yes you do. stop saying doubtful stuff. your every fantasy has been fulfilled. nobody bugs you. nobody listens to you, either. ok, first, that’s not even true. second, quit being so dramatic. you know exactly where you are and exactly where you’re headed, and just how slowly you’re going to get there. that doesn’t even make any sense.
there’s so much pain in what he does. that’s probably why i like it so much? the kids know the words. give the kid a breather.
he’ll sleep when he’s dead. superstar. gets to meet a lot of people. gets to or has to.
good flick. the truth is, i don’t know that many songs. overall.
in what? anything. everything.
same as any other time when i see people in pain. i want to hug them. cry with them. be a spaz around them so they know it’s ok to be a spaz around me. you can, and should, quit me at any reason for any time. that’ll learn me to hold on too tight.
don’t tell me i have abandonment issues. tell the people who abandoned me that it’s not a very nice way to treat people to “handle” or “deal with” them. i know it’s how they’re trained.
the longer we sit around and wait, the longer innocent people sit in cages because stupid, mean, manipulative, racist, power-tripping people wrote/enforced some rules. you think there’s any less responsibility in the enforcement as there is in the writing? the reason we still have asshole racist policies in this country is because we have asshole racist people. yep, they have jobs. yep, they pay their mortgages and taxes and i still think they’re piece of shit assholes who excuse their hate because someone else wrote their job description. it’s a sad state of affairs. it’s not really that sad, now that i say that. it’s kinda sad, but there’s something funny about it. not vindictive funny, but just ironic, shake your head funny.
it’s now 1:50 am. it still hurts. all over. sleep well.
5:09 pm, next day. Saturday. video concept sprouted.
hi, kids. it’s your loving dictator and we’re going to learn a song today. it’s called “oral democracy” and if you know the words, or need a means to release unwordable frustrations, sing along. it’s pretty easy. it goes aaaAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!
I lip-synced it into the mirror, and it went pretty well.
really? all the people whose lives depend on the opposite say that scripting honest cooperation isn’t possible, let alone “legal.” that might be the new definition of irony. well, it’s on the ironic scale, anyway. no, no! morisettes are not notations on the scale of irony. cripes.
my experiences without monetary expertise enrich my life. i am retardedly lucky. oh, come on. i can’t even use it as a good thing? i don’t have words for
heh. dude, i like how your web address on twitter is http://‽.ws/LAW interrobang.ws? how do you even type that in as a url? does your keyboard have an ‽ key? not likely. kids, our wearable computers come pre-configured to replace !? with an honest-to-goodness “interrobang” ‽. pow. i got a fergie cd also. did i mention that? i was looking through the lyrics and pictures from it earlier.
last time i was on garage detail. this time was much better, in many ways. the kink in my back would be gone if i were conscious of my posture. i’m such a slouch. well, when i’m working for myself i am. when i’m on the clock, i’m sober, typically. oh, you think it makes a difference? all of the only difference that matters in the world. indeed.
i have a tape of 90 fm that i recorded from 1994 or 1995. this weekend is jazzfest, so i’m listening to the soundstreams archives. it’s 6:46 pm.
10:35 am on Sunday^3, and this made me lol. this is a girl (i assume) from twitter who blurted that she was never wanted to meet me for the first contact she made with me, twitterily speaking. we have a lot in common. i consider her a good friend.
people that i work near understand that i actually enjoy work. they find this mind-boggling, because they are all trained to hate work, all of it. whenever you discuss anything, what you are actually doing is flipping back and forth between the extremes of it and its negation. hate is love, love is hate. the pointing out, the selection, is an act. i don’t know what i’m going to do when people i have “fallen in love” with over twitter run into me in real life. i expect sparks, or explosions. i like explosions. as long as i have hearing protection. 😀
wanna see the e-mail i wrote to my mom? i feel i must show you.
i’m adopting a dog tomorrow. your non-response can only mean we are not allowed on your property. so, maybe we’ll run into you on some dog-friendly land somewhere, some day.
i also still have a shop full of tools in storage, and will soon have cabinets. your non-response can only mean that these are not welcome on your property. i knew that already.
i have secured access to land and electricity for winter survival. if we freeze to death, you won’t have to drive very far for the bonfire/cremation. i know that disappoints you. your cruelty disappoints me.
enjoy each and every moment,
i’m trying to open up communication channels. scream at me over e-mail, mother. get it all out. call me all the nasty words that you have in your bloated, poisoned, body and brain. i’m attempting to share all that i have with you. i’m attempting to reconcile the fucked up things that you have said to me in the past with some form of “parenting” that will allow me to introduce you to my children, if i ever have any. honestly, in your present state, you’re not getting anywhere near my kids.
no woman is ever going to let her stick your dick into her. who says i want anyone who identifies entirely with a gender? plenty of people want to have my babies, if i’ll just shut up for a few seconds and let people say nice things about me. they won’t. your ranting negates your niceness. well that’s pretty fucked. right?
- rip http://www.disinfo.com/2011/10/14-shamans-murdered-in-peru/ sibs
why does twitter not show my most recent day’s worth of tweets when i look at my profile? then they pop up after 30 seconds or so. that’s censorship, twitter. yes, it is.
we can get back to studying http://www.electric-cars-are-for-girls.com/electric-vehicle-motor-size.html this. we can afford components? not really. heh.
3:21 pm. time for a late lunch.
this was a draft in my gmail folder, called “linkage”:
The Ethical Slut Returns
Metallica’s Lars Ulrich Pirates His Own Album
EFF’s Surveillance Self-Defense https://ssd.eff.org/
HOWTO turn a VCR into an incredibly dangerous toaster
“Stimulus” bill rider hell
ASCII Art Generator
Pain Hurts More If Hurter Means It:
Venomous mammal caught on camera
German billionaire kills himself
check it out! i am not even going to look at them until after they’re posted.
- google shopping has one for $28.
your blog looks like spam. i know. i do that on purpose. porpoise?
dictator didn’t even let us go outside today. it was windy and cold. without kind people, there’s nothing to go outside for. that is true. we could sew. that is also true.
this is so fucking stupid. dictator knows exactly what happens when we stop naturautomedicating. we get cranky. that’s all. we don’t get more or less productive, we just get cranky. so lay the fuck off of my fucking poisons. there is a cost factor. should there be, is my question.
i think the tape of appetite that i grew up with didn’t have rocket queen on it. anything goes got cut off. what does that matter. i’m listening to a g-n-r tape. time is frozen, all up in wasteoid land. i don’t age, because time doesn’t pass. it lives.
i like that people read my tweets. i say the most important things that are said, in this world, on this reality. if you don’t think that, you talk too much. talking is an obstruction, which can be used like a bludgeon. any administrator will tell you, there’s no way to predict how a troll will flare up. and there’s no fucking way to shut up “the news” if you’re in a bar or restaurant on planet retard slave these daze. fuck that. no, i have no issue with information being passed along, but that is a mixture of poison-selling tripe and blatant, outright, dangerous lies.
page 13 curse be gone! *hisssss*
what? i’m moody. it’s why i’m getting a service dog. it’ll keep me out of trouble, shut up. it will learn all the coolest tricks, and play Frisbee with me, and be a nice sleeping bag warmer when i’m stupid enough to remain in cold climates for very long. how long? oh, you know, until winter time. pretty much, we listened to as much sane, soulful, and loving music as we could find, just like the rest of you.
what am i gonna do with the car? i’m sure you can find someone who can use the car. they might even rent it from you. fancy, that. I don’t get tired of stuff like you do. it’s always new to me. why does it feel like this is going to be a cold winter. you will do a good job of staying warm. please help me stay warm this winter.
wanted: road dog. needs: cute face/laugh. must want to listen to crazy music, have lots of sex with that weird spazzy kid, be always nice to all animals and people, and stick around me while i get my rv up to speed. yes, pretty much the entire job description is an appreciation for me, and one another. if ya got that, send an e-mail to email@example.com briefly outlining your, uhh, proposal. many positions available. direct, honest rejections, also. we tell the truth to everyone, always. say hello.
look, i don’t have any property. real estate, anyway. never have. i have a tiny rv and a small 4-door sedan. i have zero income, zero financial supporters, and a network of similarly situated compatriots, as far as i can tell.
honestly, the ideal would be to find a single woman nearby with access to necessary facilities and square footage. if i could live in a semi-heated warehouse with my dog and rv for the winter, i would get it done. like, converted. completely. space, companionship, and sheer indomitable will. i may have to ask for donations, but as long as it’s in progress, i figure those will generate a bit more luck. i’ve never been able to get people to listen to me. i’ve never had a publicist, either. that shit costs money. do you know any benevolent publicists? that’s one of those oxymorons, isn’t it. now that’s just mean. yup. how is lying about a person for money not mean? hm. i see what you mean about the non being able to get people to listen to you thing, though. right.
hey, if you don’t have anything to say, send me naked pictures. i’ll be there tomorrow. whatever the fuck. well, you do have to invite me if that’s the case. you are a non-communicative dickhead! why should i invite you anywhere. k. is the character’s name.
i ain’t finished that fergie disk yet. i don’t want to. i’m getting to the point where i’ve been away from decent music for so long that i am beginning to forget what it’s even like. the reason to stop any drug is so that it works better. take a shower and go buy you some wine, you fucking drunk.
8:09 pm. yay!
well, it’s now 10:46 am on Thursday, October 20, 2011. i took my best friend back to the rescue shelter. i’m not a pack leader. not enough for a scared little dog, anyway.
i spent three nights with the little guy. i cried the whole way to the shelter, and most of the way home. what does that matter? i don’t know. i just want to be able to tell someone. asshead gives me advice after the fact. too little, too late.
i am drawn to the loud and violent, but i cannot maintain that fighting energy. i can’t tug back the whole way every time. my head is a mess. always has been. oh, what do you know? less than nothing. i’m so tired. i’m still hurting from the schooling homeboy gave me. all i know how to do is take naps.
i don’t know if he had a vicious streak, or if i did. probably, a bit of both. that’s why we bonded so well. did we? yeah. i think so. he got the impression that sleeping with the dictator makes you the dictator. and he plays with teeth. unfortunate combination. aren’t we all?
i just had the most productive and loving conversation i have ever had with my father. Thanks, pops. 2:00 pm.
i learn stuff, shut up.
my internet friends are disconnected from harsh realities, which makes their love that much more real. compatability, compatibility, computability, comparability. word, dictionary, you’re correct on all counts. chocula. three translations. ha. ha. ha.
i took some otc pain reliever just now. two naproxen sodium. so if i die of internal stomach bleeding, y’all better sue all the naproxen sodium producers and the uhh, makers of franzia. naw, leave them out of this. don’t mix your metaphors. oh, right, like they’re not exactly the same thing. i am.
i think it’s time to start your octagon training. really? don’t i need a sponsor? something.
heh. re-reading my tweets. his next shit was in the veterans park across from a gas station (i used an arby’s cup to clean that up. funny, that’s probably the healthiest thing that has ever been in that arby’s cup, and dude had some funky diarrhea shits. soft drinks are cheap, addictive, subsidized livestock fatteners and insecticides. use them accordingly), and the last of our time together was in the street in front of a church parking lot. did i not tell you this dude was smart? i pulled him across the street, looking for a place where i wouldn’t have to clean it up. no such luck. i felt bad and let him finish about ten steps later. i would return and clean it up. i did. i broke the handle of the decrepit old scooper in the process. hand-me-downs and weathering. useful tools, properly maintained, are quite useful. i was ill prepared for this task, and could not have possibly learned as much otherwise.
i watched the dog training video with him. he got a little spooked at a few of the “worst-case” scenarios, and my esp to him was “dude, you are an angel compared to those poor fellas.”
i took Anakin to a friend’s house, to introduce him and get some much-needed social interaction myself. he was good with people, but when another dog appeared, he got excited and confrontational, ultimately hanging at a 45-degree angle, tugging on the tree. the tiny black dog glared, not at Anakin, but at me. “you’re not very good at this” he seemed to say. you, Gizmo, are absolutely correct. my behaviors with dogs have been coming from a state of partial understanding, and affection before discipline. i get kissed quickly, but they never stick around. sounds familiar. sounds past. well, well nothing. past performance is not a predictor of future results.
he physically disabled me and kept pushing because i had shown him that he could break me. then, i missed some rather obvious things. it took him less than a week. it pained me to see him go back into a panic when we got back to the shelter. i made a commitment to help this guy, and then i broke it. regardless of the circumstances, i should not have offered that which i could not provide. the fat lady has not sung on this one, but the clock is ticking. if we are meant to be together, for more time than we have already shared, that will be the case. if his path leads him to more capable hands, perhaps he won’t feel the need to puncture them out of asphyxiated frustration.
while we were walking, if my mind wandered, and that gentle “i’m here, you’re good” energy faded, he fought. pulling or stopping, to get a response. you have to be here constantly, kid. not 99% of the time, but 100%. in a safe and fulfilling environment for myself, i will have that capability, your highness.
when i spoke, he understood. or, he reflected my energy. we worked best without speaking, actually. as much was conveyed through the leash and my movement as my voice. he responded immediately to both. he met aggression, any amount of aggression, with aggression. this is how we have to be if you’re going to stay here. i didn’t have the discipline he required. i had not been able to see our interaction together clearly enough to formulate our interaction. by the time i had come to realize what and how i needed to ask/demand of him that which was needed for our co-survival together, he was completely in charge and i was injured and hurt. hurt in the emotional sense. poor little guy had nightmares.
i tried to get too close too fast. i initiated, and lost, or gave up control. unforeseen consequences of abandonment acts. i did that, when i let him off the leash. i abandoned him, in a strange place, with nothing but a paniced fearful human to know of his plight. as soon as the leash was back on him, or as soon as i verbally scolded him, he would submit. almost immediately, he would test me again. like i said, it only took him a week to break me. yes, hi buddy. i’m still talking about you. i hope we can work independently with that which we have taught one another.
corbin? http://youtu.be/odOsx2AY6gs en español.
wow. “It favors the objectively reasonable expectations of the weaker party (borrower or insured) although the language of the provision(s) does not explicitly supports them. Also called reasonable expectations doctrine.”
does not explicitly supports them. englishify that dangling modifier. legally speaking, the law is intentionally sloppy/fuzzy on occasions it is not intentionally incomprehensible, cruel, judgmental, racist/sexist/classist, and just generally pompous. sometimes all at the same time, but those are the scalia decisions. you can’t pack hate any tighter than that!
yes, the shit those evil corporate lawyers-turned-judges write is the gospel truth, under that horribly fucked up fight-causing system. everybody needs to sit down and have an agreement-with-everyone-else sorta pre-sib agreement. intentional kindness? full disclosure of all stores of available survival supplies that they may be put to their highest use? fair, accurate, and highly precise measurements of adopted material stores, resource lots, and organic materials. why not? right? because for those of you who have gotten slightly further ahead in the rat race, you get to catch all the slop on whatever level you’re the accountant for. or, you can bribe your friends with the scrap you encounter. planned obsolescence is a double-edged sword, there joneses. don’t hate the player or the game. work with both of them, but be honest about what you have, what you want, and then “the state” [if there is one]/of affairs will be that what you need is readily available.
“I’m Standing Right Here:
Skwisgaar: Just let me record it. Each take is worse. He’s slowly learning how to un-play the guitar.
Toki: I can hear that, the talk-back mike is on.
Skwisgaar: Pickle, please let me know when the talk-back mike is on so Mr. Sensitives don’ts goes to cry-baby’s house for vacation.
Toki: I can stills hear you.
Skwisgaar: So what do you want, a be-able-to-hear-things award?
Toki: Not really…doesn’t sound like a greats award, to be honest…
http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/Metalocalypse <-good page
consummate noobs are funny, except when they stringently stick to their ways. like tweeting the words “this link.” don’t fucking describe what it is that you’re doing, just fucking do it! i get that you are referring to the link immediately following your description of it. this is that sloppy language i was talking about. administrators are great at telling you they’re not avoiding questions, as they continue typing zero-meaning words when you have already asked them a direct question. you are a time-wasting tryant, and i want nothing to do with your feet-dragging ways. i would rather work with the violent, retarded, and infirm.
foyk http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLAA0996FA4DCC4464 yoiss. this movie is one of my favorites of all time. looney toons whoops the crap out tha matrix, with children slapping and fighting with your friends. the English dub is inferior. well, this one is full-screen. but it matches this monitor. isn’t that what ought to matter? no way, man. widescreen looks better. whatever. you know nothing. the feeling, and hence, story, is often entirely different between translations. English dubs are often mocking and mean. the Chinese is gentle, and ultra-harsh. melikes. the feel matches the audio. i don’t know how to describe it.
this fucker is 18 pages. or, we’re on page 18. i use quotes to extend my writing. what, you’re like, not down with streaming consciousness, man? is pissing on an injured person something that will clean their wounds? it’s like saying, “i’m gonna need you later, you little pissant. live to fight another day, weakling.” or something to that effect. i would totally go out on a date with rabbit-tooth jane. mee-yow.
“horrifically bad fate” lol! this is a completely different movie. it is classic and beautiful. i can’t get over how great this is. “powerful and delicate. top notch.”
the sound is way better. all around. holy god, don’t ever listen to English dubs. fuck you, disnification. Americanization. westernization. northernization. codewords for racism, plain and fucking simple.
by a directional vector, wood may deflect metal. water may deflect diamond. sound may obliterate matter. om.
why can’t they just use the translations. oh, it’s normal again. thank goodness.
multi-layered audio. ca-caw funny. yes, ma’am.