i am my paper trail. i am the testimony on my behalf. others may confirm my whereabouts, and tendencies, probably.
ma’am, making sweet sweet love to [x] in the faculty bathroom wasn’t as good as wasting all your office hours time ranting and falling in love with you. those were the times you talked. i’m an auditory thinker. hacker? definitely a hack. fuck. didn’t we nearly get head in a library in college? barely. you’re lucky anyone has ever spoken to you at all, son. crass like that. i know. i’m looking for humans who like that. there aren’t many, whatever “that” is. i have this voice in check. but you want to talk about proportionality, one (natural, human, meat) person, has not the impact of an institution. all institutions shall be intersected, found parallels with/in, and have their participants shuffled amongst willing/desirous/communicative/truthful participants. what endorsements matter to you? i’m obsessed with this mother one. stupid genetic programming! i’ve seen she was a capable once. fear/hate and sheen. with the joneses/crowd/sheep must my investment be kept. i miss you, mom. please quit the abusive corporate fascists club and help me plant a bunch of fruit trees. i love you.
my uber-consultancy is not doing well. what are you talking about? this is gold, this here. we ain’t on that standard, and nobody can see gold any more. they deny it for the painted rocks. that, that they do.
as soon as it stepped out of the house, it was surrounded by music, people with questions/comments, and an army of photographers streaming non-stop music videos (it still tweets during those) & in-person responses to in-kind questions. it thought we would be attacked/shot the first day, being mostly naked and all. no, people trust a mostly naked person. you can see what they’re thinking. i’ll stand there, right next to you, dancing away. i may pause, partially, to answer aloud, and with definitizing eye emphayses. emm ffaye-ces. sill labbles. oi
2:02 pm. unfollowed the “atmosphere” twietrr ack-count today. how’s a slug gonna hate on squirrels? or rats, fo that? matter. when u a hateful dick, dehumanizing to humans and disrespectful to similarly composed flesh critters, u workin’ fo the man. the bank, warmonger. get in the ring, motherfucker.
whatever. even if it was one of his sexist, reactionary little flunkies, competitive “relationship” addicts, it’s the same school. i have low boundaries for violence, verbal or otherwise. we’re force-fed so much of this aggro crap by the fucking tv, you honestly should let me thump your skull a few times to rattle some of that hate loose. i’ll snap your calcium-sapped neck if ya make me, so quit trying to assert yourself by generalizing against smaller beings. that ain’t joking, it’s anti-survivalist. that’s banishment/instant death by dictatorial proposal/signing-statement. you fuckers are so fucking lucky he loves consensus so much.
“yeah, that’s right. back in your cage, loser. hey, hey, the homeless guy needs a friend. everybody point and laugh. ha ha.” dictator giggles. thanks, kids. 😀
this article has me yessing like a poisoned lard lump around healthy active plants (allergens, cuz yo membranes all fulla poizinz). this was/is our culture. i’ve tried to phrase “my whining” about the personal pain i’ve endured in general, academic terms, what with seeing parallels all around me. these are the competitive relationships of which i speak. ownership of humans. obligatory submission. hey, how about this: willing co-creators. i am tired of the steady stream of church hate streaming from “my family & friends”, especially they what quit receiving the in-person benefits (blessed water, song, kind gentle inspiring words) of the tradition. i want my entire life to be like a church service. in certain ways. hey, if church services were cool, consensual sex between willing humans would be acceptable. fucking may be accomplished nearly silently. this movie is gonna rock. any participant may object. none are required to stay. the spirit moves us in different ways and acceptable volume levels vary by tribe. you are the only one who can know your tribe. mine are the international inter-generational beneficial species of many scales. i am water, here, me-rawr.
how much is your time worth? the same as everybody else’s time, jerkface. what part do you want to do and from where do you want to do it. i want you on my lap, now. i don’t know how many times i can say that. i can move the lap around. how much space am i to be allowed? i recognize that i am in hostile territory. i have been, since the day i was born. some landlords are kinder, more efficient, and healthier than others.
la maison. le chateau. 2:22 pm. destroy them with 212 lazers repeats like a bad habit.
the plot? a loser nobody (underdog, nice), [partially/sort-of?] recovered racist/sexist/douchebag and its coming of ages, permaculturing of living spaces, and business launch. survivalism, ink. something.
the pretty girls are the ones who look you in the eye without flinching and respond appropriately to whatever gets presented. i was born ready. this is what i do, will, and have done, for a lonely lifetime.
we’re like a relationship camel. and we realize how much of that training has stuck to us. the “protective” family. these are scripts. pathways. algorhythms. i sincerely hope you see this. you can’t maintain love by “gently” holding your role as breadwinner over your children’s objections to the overall accounting. no, i’m not asking you to join a cult, i’m asking you to quit one. it’s teaching are counter to basic decency. help me make the replacement, then. i know sheeple respond better to the higher bandwidth and synchronization of television and film. why do you think i work in video? how better to share its dancies, my love.
i work with what i have, which in capital[-measuring/valuing]ist america is what i am given. which is to say, although it isn’t much, it is enough. exactly, to be honest. let me know when you want to do more, because i know how to detox people and get them in the mode to do that. there are many methods to health, but that is the goal. you can’t claim kindness, humanity, or love if you disregard health like you abuse your children by shunning them into silence like was done to you.
well, whatever. holla at me when u want to be unplugged from the matrix. i know me a guy. yeah, but he doesn’t know you. he knows me. they all know the room elephant, son. they think your amplification will break stuff. it does, it has, it is. braided, today. face-tails. it keep me from speaking. i consider that a good thing. i made my muzzle out of auburn whiskers. i submit immediately to the touch of gentle sisters.
i understand your reactions much better now. i appreciate your patience and teaching. i seek counsel. i want this to be an open source proposal to humanity, implemented by the United States of America. we can salvage these people. there is a spark in them.
on the sidewalk, dictator bounce-wobbled like a safe healthy kid. catching eyes with a corporate dino-burner-encased meatsib, it turns into an interdimensional multi-scale ACT, with similarities to recreations of its childhood dreams/programming. lol. this role is/was almost better than wash. all. most. 😀
selling more military industrial programming again, are we? hey, man produces some of the best conspiracy films out there. bond, anyone? it’s no wag the dog or jfk, but whatevs. the truth is out there. reactivate your natural discrimination, and stop saying such assuming and hateful things to and/or about other human beings or animalss. it’s a simultaneous task. i’m a trailblazer, but i leave an electronic paper trail. may it lead us all out of destitution.
son, you’re a johnny 5 come lately, fascist wannabe, son of the abused and terrified. that may very well be, and i still think i could do the job better than any of the other contenders. ricochet. it wasn’t that there weren’t attempts on dictator’s life, daily. its network foiled their attempts before they got anywhere near. hey, i knew that overly “protective” anti-survival pan-opticon-ism would be useful for something. only you can find reasons to be optimistic within your ever-evolving enslavement. good one, smoky.
3:00 pm. break!
dictator wants to bike through the richies estates in the sunshine. he probably wants to tweet first. how did u know? because he’s in love with those people, that database, and quick, gentle honesty, with multi-logical knowlagisms. in deed.
The Ballad of Momma Rosa Parks
(Nick Venet and Buddy Mize, 1963)
In nineteen hundred and fifty five,
In a southern American town,
A tired colored lady got on a city bus
And immediately sat down,
With a closed mind and an opened mouth
The big bus driver got rough
And told his only passenger
To move to the back of the bus.
cho: When Momma Parks sat down,
The whole world stood up,
What’s good for one is good for all,
It’s good for all of us.
The lady’s name was Momma Rosa Parks,
A hard workin’ woman indeed,
She was goin’ home, ‘twas her goin’ time,
She had little hungry mouths to feed,
She wasn’t botherin’ nobody
And doin’ nothin’ wrong,
By the Lord’s rules of love
When Momma Parks sat down
The whole world stood up.
printed in “Songs of Peace, Freedom and Protest” by Tom Glazer (1970, David McKay Company)