yesterday’s entry wasn’t that bad. we could post it. yeah, and we could write what’s burning our brain from the inside out. true. dry drunks. asexual perverts. conscious citizens. tv lovers. delusional, self-liars. fuck, you people suck.
my whole life, i outline the next level systems which could save us all. most respond, “well that’s clever, young buck, but since nobody has deemed you worthy of receiving cash money, we don’t give a flying fuck about any of that stuff you have to say,” but they say it more like “that’s like 20 years away.” fuck you, dick-tard. YOU are the reason it’s not HERE NOW. the means of producing it, and the design generator are RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR FUCKING FACE, yet you continue your same nothing-changes-as-a-result actions, and continue to shun those who aren’t deemed acceptable TO THE VERY FUCKING MACHINE THAT YOU SAY YOU WANT TO “REFORM”. you’re too fucking stupid for me to speak to. you have so many sacred cows, and so many years of corporate LIES on your “I’M ABSO-FUCKING-LOUTELY SURE OF THIS!!!” list, and you continue to mock, belittle, and fundamentally disrespect all expressions of feeling, love, innocence, honesty, and fairness with anti-belief. you are judge, jury, and executioner of the whole fucking universe. all data to you, all-seeing one. but YOU HAVE TO BE ABLE TO HEAR IT, which means you must love it, first. if you are defensive and opposed to it from the git go, the only way one may naturally [law] respond to you is counter-attack. if that’s me, you’re dead. literally. and, to be completely honest, many of you no longer deserve to be here. the unabashedly violent, the entire rape/murder-justification industry (church, military-industrial, “mainstream entertainment,” and industrial food concerns), i hereby propose, to the global consensus, that you be executed immediately for your crimes against humanity. as institutions, zip codes, and cold fucking hearted individual fucktards.
holy god, why so nasty today? new twitter, probably. we fear change. lol. that was fromwayne’s world. i know. and did i hear a niner in there? were ya callin’ from a walkie talkie?
so, my deal is that the one human who has stable shelter and will allow me to live there without exchange of cash (i work plenty), is so completely ingulfed, enwraptured, and over-stuffed with capitalist, materialistic, pseudo-&-“scientific” tripe, repeated verbatim with dramatic gusto, for an emotional E.M.P. effect, keeps the rats in their place. yes, that’s what your childish little outbursts say to everyone who hears them. yes, but i’m not the bullyest child. i mean, i can be, but most of the time, that ability allows an eye of the storm, if you will. a place of stillness, at the point where the eNuke went off. the sound is like ppPPAAAHHHH!, but in a picosecond. at the point of purity, of collapse, it puts its heart chakra, which absorbs the pain inflict from each and every blast. yeah, so i always had a heart full of napalm. ‘course lit. no, my first introduction to that line was the Venture Brothers. shut up, there’s a lot of world military history and hyper-intelligence in that show. yes, there is a whole spectrum of “quality” of television, but even at its best, it remains true to the violent sexism, psychopathic cruelty, and the biggest/loudest/meanest-wins ethic. i know it’s a stretch. what if i’m right? correct.
so, this would be the point where my inner circle and i would reassess. rebrand. re-package the product so as to make it more, uhh, marketable. except that those are counter to not only my very existence, and a good percentage of the very point itself, and my inner circles have always been fleeting, and full of cute, gentle humans who aren’t granted any real “authority” by the brutish, plundering masters, either. you know, the people who rage, or joke about murder, or who glorify guns/violence/one-uppmanship.
i will say this for this town. there are a lot of cute little pick-up trucks driving/parked around. we have this erv thing on lock. the only reason i think about all this other shit is that i live in an abusive household, and i have a bunch of abusive “friends” online, on a variety of databases. non-communicative drunks, most of ‘em. fuckin’ land-wasters. there are an equally large number of the conscious poor, who would, but whose willingness to interact peaceably in and of itself has kept them from acquiring resources. there are exceptions to all rulings. nothing is hard and fast, except for that liquid rock that my chanting, bio-electric sceptre of interstellar vibratory frequencies re-crystalizes in energetically beneficial configurations. i am a builder (designer/architect/strategist) of the pyramids. the am from pouter spayce. in o’cent fram twirl, fazed bi d’aliyens, ow tin narf ridge, stout en de lager world. trite, furl.
i was re-writing the lyrics to poison, but all cutsey harmonized in the style of maïa vidal. still could write them down. pen foun. d. gots ta pee 1st. k.go. yesssyrrr (2:33 pm) [ed it or’s know’t: mebbe an udder thyme :]
yeah, my meat can move mass like a farmhand, but i can design simple tools to allow a tiny human to do the same. or a trained dog or money/ape/marsupial, probably. marsupials are the bomb-diggity, btw. big fan. also, oddly, of the incense or patchouli that someone browsing dvds seems to be wearing. it’s rare that a supplemental scent pleases me more than my own stanky ass. seriously. nobody else smells human. ok, when dogs are born, their noses are open before their eyes. that’s their first interaction with the physical universe, the third dimension if you will. if others are to be trusted, at the rootiest level, chakrally speakering, they must smell right. how do you think pheremones are transmitted between people? through voice? i don’t think so. authoritarian enslavement, is all you get from the wordy words. leave my attention and awareness to me and my choice in conversationators. (says the artist who demands absolute silence during its “perfourminces.”) of course i would perform publicly. if you want me to act like a fucking democratic diva, you best start treating me like one. if you want to know what a consensus dictator would do, keep watching. i don’t know what else to tell ya.
i’m re-listening to the titular track of this post. cha.millionaire. taking every cultural/artistic reference to law or “the Law” as being a thinly veiled reference to LAW is a good way to think you actually matter. who named you that anyway? the namer. the coiner. the source, the higher self, the self-awareness of its contemporaries. do you even know what these words mean, all plunked together all willy nilly like so? of course not. that’s for you to figure out. i just spit what fit through my fingers to yo screen. take what you need and let it all be scene.
so, miss informed, what now? tweetstarz? fo fuck yeeah. revisionist yestrodaze? that, also/azwell. heh heh. butt. (2:52 pm)
yesterday’s is upon http://wp.me/py8vw-gL if’n ya mist et.
2daze be now. love,