wolk wrek

it’s a new day.  the wind is whipping and my carhard hat is missing.  truly clingy humans make attachments with easily replaceable commodities.  no hat has been as loyal to me as that one has been.  brandedan un

3:30 pm.  shortly after school let out.  gym is still empty. teams change for practice.  so that we can pretend that our society is so civilized that we only show a stylized re-enactment of tribal/nationalist warfare, played out by children and/then celebrities.  wow.  this cult is trippy.  dude.  smiles.

3:33 pm.  trivia rant: trivia is that which doesn’t really matter.  obscure details tracked for why?  do we track relevant data?  do we gather to discuss actual things, or only ever team up for hyper-competitive, corporate poison-infused steam-letting?  fuck, you people are useless.  your sports are destructive, and your goals are shallow and pathetic.

libraries rule because when i pause musics, i hear quiet murmers, key clicking, and occasional laughter.  no tv’s or radios play, people go about their business in a sort of “big brother requires our patient silence in here.” good.  thank you.

i am now sitting across from a mother of two contemporaries.  what?  people approximately my age?  one i played basketball against. we wrestled in basketball.  nobody could really explain basketball, and i didn’t get it, so i am here now.

listen here, newbie, it lives right there.  and nobody complains?  why would they?  it never speaks to anyone, except over the internet.  that’s not exactly true.  and his real-life self is a continuation of his digital one?  the digital one is a continuation of it’s real one, prior to upload.  and really, you should get used to calling it, it.  seriously, you might get hurt.  some say it’s like a jedi-mind control.  other say it’s a “mirrored sphere” that shows your own demons.  i think it’s just an abused genius finally standing up for itself against the entire society that’s responsible for its abuse.  sir, you sound like the asshole baby of tony robbins and some windbag philosophy professor.  pretty.  shut the fuck up for a second so i can remember those lovely words and write them down.  you’re funny, that’s funny.  you should run for office.  maybe i am, uhh will.  maybe i am.  trust

that started differently.  so, it ended better.  the first way was funnier.  ok.  first one had the cop giving a “he only hurts himself” speech.  included: mom gets primo head, sissen pops get sympathy aww’s from everywhere.  it’s a fucking win-win.  for everyone except itself.  but hey, who are we to judge what gets a man to the top floor, eh?  that’s the whole point of privacy, it thought, upon the sidewalk.  so that your neighbors and family don’t know what time you get off.  seriously.  that’s it?  or, which brand of chemical gets you there?  holy god, you’re ashamed of that?  it’s the unfortunate part of, uhh, you know, “this whole capitalist shit” or whatever.  shame.  knock that off already.  what does it suppress?  fear/hatred of unknown things, or biological processes?  fer really?  aye two, mikerockracy camp pain?  u cleary no undro stand ban king.  cash monnee gets spreadsheeted upon loanage, bank demanding more than exists (auto-inflation). shit rolls downhill.  plumbing analogy, good one.  wool?  the system is inherently unfair.  you can’t be for fairness and equality and human rights and the ceasing of war without being against the entire process of fiat banking.  it’s an algorithmic formula, not some commentary on the goodness or badness of certain people and their skill in statistical manipulation or lie-word-creation.  the funny thing about being able to see the matrix is that what u can see behind the code is a crumbling torture chamber, of which poor people continue to work the levers and re-write all the headlines/textbooks for the benefit of the tiniest of percentages.  it’s a fucking clown-show.  cult of ghostly personalities.

see, i’m way into politics.  give me a fucking honorary doctorate already.  fer fuckkity.  LET ME THE FUCK OUT OF THIS FORTRESS OF SOLITUDE.  u only fly in your dreams.  how did u even get there?  i don’t recall.  there was a bike.

4:04 pm.  this video has over a million views. already, and it’s still not on tv.  it has pictures and words about other people far away being in a bad lot and not happy and whatnot but mostly it’s sparkly and wiz-bang like tv and was clearly manna frack turd bi edjamma-cayterd purr feshunnals with helfinsurinse.  your religion is one of delusion, capitalist pigtards.  diminishing availability for poors, & gambling with small amounts returns mostly to the house.  even when the house doesn’t win, the house wins.  not only because it cheats.  well, mostly that.  the uni-liquid, tho.  enforced with guns.  hachachacha.  we should apply for that green job.  are you. seriously?

so yeah, i have a staff.  it’s everyone who reads my words.  they forward it almost never.  best network ever.  what do you give them?  a new path.  an easy-to-transition, solve the problems at the root, all-inclusive solution.  you know, my entire life up to this point and ongoing.  a poor person surrounded by other poor people willing to help them when they need it probably doesn’t feel so poor.  the poor person surrounded by poor people who constantly beat them for suggesting that they share their massive pile of property that they’re burning through and giving to the worst possible people while complaining about “the way the world works” probably feels pretty alone.  thank fucking god for the internet.  and by internet, i mean the actual world, where my heartbeat and love can be felt as pulsations, laser-cannon-blasts, and face-melting word spells.  all your presumptuous face muscles release simultaneously, as they would if you saw god in the mirror.  namaste.

every time i sit down to write, a voice in my head is screaming, “what the fuck else were we going to write, we had 85 billion fucking ideas about what to blog today and now we’re only cranking out a page every half-hour or so.”

what do you want, a fucking fairy tail?  no, she wants me to fight her.  yeah, i’ll probably indulge her, as long as she agrees to not damage me permanently.  if she ain’t calling me daddy within 48 hours, she will likely end me.  you wish.  yes, a fucking marathon would be good for me at this juncture.  i always wish for good things.  you seriously haven’t been paying attention, have you.  theiese werds are fhonhettically engrished, r day knot?  boy, you gone put yo iOut wifat. 4:20 pm

they can tell you’re killing time just to time stamp it pot-headily.  sew.  fuckuz@ mattre.  there never was a fourth wall, and the wolrd raraound u is prettyrr.

i should go make it, huh.  just take the camera and go.  what about help?  what about partnerships?  i didn’t even get to limit my liability!  or raze a fundys?  even.  sharts.  not sharks, sharts.  you might as well call that one a shit and go wipe.  thanks, pops.

go, record yourself speaking and see if you don’t want to edit out all those parts.  my best videos share the “not being able to hear me” feature.  that green al jazeera-linked movie is the model i’m thinking for this particular.  woods, stuff i see on my bike.  places i go.  this.  me sitting, dancing with my toes and calves to 212 lazers.  you don’t see me dancing because you think walking isn’t dancing.  you kick me in the balls as you scream that you love me.  why do i terrify you so?  maths, huh.  you try to access the “girl” part of your brain and it gives a prissy whine “i’m no good at maths.” fuck you.  fuck that sexist programmed dramatic retardation.  stop categorizing thought like your automaton masters did.  break free of those ill-formed conceptions.  those are scientifically designed to isolate and confuse you.  to keep you locked into your own insular little culture, looking away from the most important things.  cult of righteous indignation.  so tired, so boring.  so repetitive, so “woo.”  not as proper name, as forced, plastic enthusiasm by a paid representative of the poison-delivery industry.

do i still want a dog?  don’t i still need an income or a home before i can move in that direction?  does nobody care that i’m intentionally not invading anyone’s property without permission?  even the most awful enslaving/poisoning landowners?  i work with them, i am a customer of theirs.  they are my constituents as much as the homeless children outside of these borders.  yuh huh.  i am asking, rather respectfully, i might add.  do you people want to see each other again?  or, you have to like outwardly and verbally banish me for un-here-for-to un-be-known-st offences.  of logic and plain-speaking explainies.

i saw a video on the internet of a guy claiming “hugelculture” and he had a buried frame constructed out of what looked like treated 4x4s and 2x6s.  i laughed.  he said he had to do more cutting with his chain saw.  i laughed again and closed the tab.  will it hold?  it looks kind of like the homer simpson grill from here.  artistic, yo.  hey, whatevski’s.  fire up the fucking chain saw and cut all the leaf’d branches off of the living trees and complain about how they’re wussies for not surviving.  you do run a whirring steel blade flung by burning earthen matter closely over the top of its roots regularly, right?  trees and plants and growing things thrive under those conditions.  no, yeah, you’re totally doing it right.  go you.  diy.  USA, USA, USA.

want to know how to infuriate dictator to the point of uselessness?  it’s simple really.  start talking over the precious sounds of wind and birds, not about the virtues of mowing stuff, but about which brand of mower is better.  yeah, use the very colloquialisms that your cousins business runs in his racist/sexist/classist radio spots.  yeah, perfect.  i thought we already had that pound of flesh?  the “liberal” pigs shall be the first to do.  before the violents?  they are the violents.  do you not see that?  who do the judges/legislators mean when they talk about stood ground?  the terrified blobs, clearly.  the scripted, branded, loyal.  the loyal subjects of the putrid crown.  sir, you’re the most loyal person i’ve ever met, but it’s to an ideal that you keep out of everyone’s reach.  they do, too.  it’s not frustrating to live five years ahead of your time if nobody bugs ya.  yah, ok true. 4:44 pm.

the best part of that whole thing was that she got it immediately.  knowing giggle.  at me or with me.  she got it.  fundamental, immediate understanding.

how ever old you are, you will probably consider me childish, unless you try to get me to go against my better judgment.  then you’ll find me a large, bull-headed, immovable object to the very end of the agreed term, and then disappeared, permanently.  supernaught.  unless i’m in love with you.  then i never stop giving chances once i’m detoxed of your harms.  they’re their own people.  it looks more like they’re my kids, but since i don’t have any kids, they must be their own kids.  freebies.

here’s another way to look at the problem.  even the families don’t share enough useful information or time together.  useful time.  together.  one day a week, we all clean/garden/code/play, together.  we do this joyfully and without complaining.  we make the most pleasant and enjoyable sounds we are capable of making, and we work with one another to share supplies and space.  what has happened here in america is like what had occurred on the planet miranda.  most everyone just went to sleep.  leaned over and stopped caring.  whatever, if the boss wanted me to eat healthy, he would make twinkies healthy.  this is our lot and who are we to say anything against it look at all the pretty things i can cover my embarassing natural self with now that it’s all full of nasty poison oh woe is me boo hoo everyone hates me because they don’t shower me with trivial greetings and cash awards for passing images properly aligned with the existing power mood.  no, fuck you slave.  house monkey.  slave master’s pet.  these aren’t helpful.  leashed, caged man-boy.  girl-bashing bitter old woman.  why do you every one refuse to speak of health and progress, instead always falling back to legislation and insurance schemes?  you are in-fighting because your categories are as manipulated and self-opposed as the scripts you impose on non-competitive humans for work.  to want to understand is to love new information.  novel information.  new descriptions of the same thing, with gusto.  with new angles.  with more responsible parties.  with more interested parties.  over and above the call of dooty; an actual “worldview.”

are we going to try to access that other verses?  let’s see

i go out and speak against mining, wigeting dust catchers out of its spoils
while ignoring my own very issue, and refusing to even read of its toils
so don’t tell me i’m part of the old guard, just give me a pill for these boils.
oh love me love me love me, ima librrull

i teach puffy chested for industry, our children its fodder and chum
the precious lynch mobs of the future, with cancers and ulcurs, and bleeding gums
but don’t teach me about mother nature, for nutrition’s more boring than guns
sew love me, love me, love me, i’m a liberulled

i type all day on my keyboard, refusing to work with such fools
who won’t work with the current bosses, or any of their chosen tools
but don’t tell me that i’m still a fascist, for believing in all of these rules
so love me, love me, love me, i’m a liberal.

sweet.  channeling korea/nam-era dickheads.  we are the winningest team that has ever won an imaginary unbattle that nobody ever cared about according to the history books.  yessss. *pumps fist*

thanks for reading.  if you have any ideas for turning this into something that could feed me, help me find land, or a shop, or cooperative humans, please e-mail your thoughts to lawleft <at> gmail <dot> com. my name is tyler.  tyler, i think scripts can scour that by now.  scrape?  yes.  fieldify.  data types.  tyler is pleased that you read his works.  it’s kind of a spaz about certain things, apparently.  talks good, tho.  teaches gooder, too.  look, i wish i had a means to help you.  systematically, permanently.  that’s what i’m doing here, building a permanent nan0web to replace the inflationary loan-u-ation.  inflammatory?  enflambeatory. en flambeau recktomy? ok stop

we should go apply for that job.  truesies.

hi.  my name is tyler.  i’m also running for office.  if that disqualifies me, i will renouce and retract it, immediately.  not that i’ll stop doing any of the things that i now refer to as my own “presidential campaign,” i will only modify my signing statement of intent to allow me to receive and cash checks on bahalf of youse that gots the purse strings.  my constituency doesn’t provide me life-support of the cashy variety, so they can’t really complain if i get it from another party.  i think on some fundamental level, greens are anarchists, in that they too know that the structural/grammatical problems of this nation/planet are much deeper than who has the title of “top dog.”

i maintain a blog, with a loyal and active fan base.  it’s not a big fan base, but i’m not a big celebrity.  put my face on tv once and see what happens to my follower numbers.  the machine is terrified to speak my name, as are americans.  accepting me as me is a part of their healing.

i’m socially awkward, it would seem.  i do not tolerate, ever.  i love all categories of humans, and all of the individuals of the species with whom i have had the pleasure of sharing air/contact/words.  i am rather particular about who i listen to regularly, as our habits create who we are like a 3D printer.  i have never met a person as intelligent, loyal, or vicious as myself.  i dance first, answer questions later.  i recognize the importance of graphics and video, and i’m impatient enough to only have to teach it once.  if every output isn’t its own self-contained beautiful description of the entire process, it’s not a self-contained message, now is it?

i was educated at Yale University, dropped out of the University of Wisconsin Law School a semester shy of diploma-privileged bar admission.  i couldn’t stomach the terms of the contracts.  i went to investigate the industrial food systems first-hand.  and learn about heavy machinery.  and to see just how atrophied small-townies had become.  the right app will convince them, as they are trusting humans too long held down by the loan-granting structure of this oppressive anti-humanitarian regime.

if permaculture isn’t green, i don’t know what is.  i love madison.  i love wisconsin, city town, road, hill, campground, and parking lot.  i will drive my solar permaculture machine, erv, all over this land.  i love the united states of america.  as awful as the banking system is that enslaves us/it/her, she is an imaginary line that surrounds a land of international beauty, honest, hard-working human beings, and the very idealized “freedom” to express ideas and have them understood on their merit and the amount of love contained in them.  i trust the “american people” to expand that definition as far as it will go and to choose the solution to their woes which eases the greatest percentage of our difficulties.  look, joe six pack can do this.  yeah, mr. reasonable.

it’s a matter of re-thinking the collective “back yard.”  beauty.  thanks.

ben’s solid, too.  i would totally take orders from that guy. 😀

peace, love, greens,

~ by LazyAssWasteoid on 2012-04-16 (Monday).

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