no, I didn’t do the sound-track, because the file was corrupted, and none of the video-editing programs that I just now installed specifically to work on this file/project would open it. so, I put it up raw. I learned how not to hate my videos without editing. I don’t speak in them. what is there to say? blah blah blah flywheels. you had to be there. 10:48 am
of dynamite. kryptonite. stalagtite. hematite. gorgalite. snorgafite. torgersight.
what the hey, fuck‽ i’m prezacktly liek u. how cool is that? not very, I know. I do know, also this: you cannot have many fans if you are not one yourself. being my one and only, I am building an army. a navy, an mah-[ha]-rheeny air force ones. liek dem dumpster sammich wiffa croissant for buns. what are we doing here again? well, the video went faster than expected, not having to up-sync. true.
- †¥₤€® turns to ☦❣ⅼ≡ℛ
6:50 pm, a few days later. it’s wednesday. so it is. today we worked. so we did. second day of driving with our new pal, the pretty college girl with a boyfriend. you meet a lot of those. I know. it’s totally on purpose. hmm. yeah, well, I already met her mom, and she’s cool. she’s dorky like me kinda but different. whatever. yes, i’m totes in love already. with one of her friends and another girl we work with. also. shut up, I enjoy falling in love easily. you don’t know how it feels to be me. it isn’t difficult. it is a different kind of rewarding. I don’t know. I am constantly learning how to life. yuh huh. live. aren’t we all.
6:58 pm. I should probably go inside. erv has power, but no internet signal reaches. you shoulda made that antenna. uhh, ok. I can’t undo what I do, because it’s the best I can do, at any given moment. stop condemning me all your life. dirt’s tires are still holding up. the rear one should be fine. front has the boot, and the hole patched was ideal for patching. this thing might last a while. yeah right. you better order some tires. yeah, I know.
so on the way home, she mentioned writing about grading potatoes. I don’t know how much i’ve written about potato farming, but I have done it for a while. I seem not to be around during the planting part. I have seen and participated in enough of the harvest to write a few sentences about it. heh. nah, I do field work because that’s where you meet the coolest girl people. yuh huh. what do you know? nothing. and that I have fallen in love on a potato field a lot of times. shed, too? yeah, probably. i’m going to go in to internet now. you’re not going to write about potatoes? maybe in the warm. ok. 7:30 pm
10:49 pm. going to bed.
5:03 pm on Friday, October 12th. ᵧₒᵤᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤᶠᶸᶜᵏ via.
I am not as cautious as I used to be, and moreso than ever. how’s that? no idea. just words.
I have a half-hour until I run my friend to the fabric store. I hope she doesn’t mind other quick errands. 6:25 pm 😀
4:00 pm on saturday. I am at emy j’s again, hanging out with a different co-worker. she is doing homework, and I am blogging. futzing with my busted old ‘puter. listening to king louie and principe’s magic carpet again. I am a loopy addict. drum meh-chine. girl. I think it’s one of them functional addictions. I have no idea what that means.
so, I put all this time and effort into hanging my laundry out until dry. then, I left it in the rain. smh. smdh. what the fuck, self? seriously. I needed an excuse to drive to the laundromat anyway. I guess.
so this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qTyn-spE9UM also happened once.
it’s 9. emy j’s is closed. I am leaving. peace. 😀
hehehe. it’s 1:34 pm, next day (sunday), and i’m back at ej’s. where would you go?
It has been raining for two days. I am pretty. lost. sitting in a coffee shop, reading wikipedia entries
what have we to discuss? i’ve told you everything I know. I share everyone I meet. or, they are all capable of making their own decisions. I don’t want to twist anyone’s arm, to do anything. what would be the point? right, the hope that some rationalization would make them consider the decision to be their own. that’s how the man does it. yes, the media man. the government man. the “society” man.
I would much rather take your picture with clothes on. if the clothes come off, the hands will want to go on. blood rushes from the head, etc. I don’t know how it works. yes, i’m still living on free poison, because it’s free. yes, I grasp the inherent contradiction in this. what do you want from me? right, like you don’t have contradictions. right, like contradictions aren’t inherent in all of life, under the banky enslavement. the damned system requires lies, but you have to pick the right ones and lie to the right people. poor people. always abuse the poor. tell them they have privilege, as if having had it at one point makes it inevitable. talky abusive middle-agers are becoming “senior citizens” which they assume means gives them additional privileges, as if their bank accounts and properties aren’t that. fuck you, landlord. do you enjoy this? complaining in isolation, to nobody. it’s not to nobody, and these words persist beyond those deleted from inboxes, or which fade into the history of the ever-moving feed. do you really believe that you have asked anyone for anything? no, I never learned how. or, I was raised/surrounded by those who take, despite objection, that which they “want.” as if the objections themselves don’t determine that which they take. this is the nature of oppression. of ownership. of abuse. ownership society is rape-enabling society. rewarding, reminding, re-hashing. this place is sick. most places are sick. not true. this region, particularly, reacted to your presence with a fascist, reactionary fervor rarely witnessed in red states. blue pills. nothing but. 1:59 pm
I don’t get time off. you think homelessness is a vacation? feeling afraid to take a shit? do you have any concept how much that wears on a person? knowing that the bangy, crybaby landlord can change her evil flippant little mind at any moment, and you’re back out in the cold. make it hell, refuse to think, raise your voice, swear, fill the sink.
for clarification, there’s nothing enlightening about these words. they are the hateful byproduct of an abused child. fuck it. how would that be telling of a nation, a society, or the entire planet of retarded slaves that is referred to as “earth?”
fuck you. going through a history of mp3s, with a low-to-mid-level panic, typical of inclement weather and my general situation, malaise. no, you probably can’t sleep next to me without me getting aroused. when I had my own room, I relieved myself regularly. times change. nobody in this fuckless town wants sex. sluts have never existed, and if they did, they had that precious, entirely natural drive for other-human contact driven from their system/emotions/mind by the insults and ignoring of those who the rest of the time claimed to be their friends and family. them’s the rules. you can’t talk about that here. no, I will not mention you to other people. HOW THE FUCK ELSE WOULD ANYTHING WORK, YOU USELESS ANTI-COMMUNICATIVE FUCKTARDS? again with the condemnation. again? no, that’s the first time i’ve insulted anyone on this blog, by calling them out honestly. oh, now yore bean ironical. am I? AM I? fm/pm, in the frequency, amplitude, post. ante-modulation, meridiem toast. toast? I dunno. sing-songy rhyme schemes need words, too. toast is delicious. heh. 2:11 in the pee emm.
this entry is fucking retarded. I know. so are you. says the slutty fucktard to its def harem. know body, here’s a thing: I don’t know how well i’d fulfill your fantasies as a traditional gendered “friend,” and I am fully aware that the lack of contact still means we’re allowed to share nothing. I know, a little hurts, ‘cuz it means it ends. how long do you think it should last? what’s ideal? why do we have to put constraints on it before it begins? where are all of the kids I abandoned? I don’t have any. demon-semen. the harem knows. each has the power of discrimination, and knows how useless and evil one abused and used to abuse can be. right, as if the only people who can see me aren’t themselves the whipping children of the industrial “organizations” which support their “survival.” as if that isn’t another lie which drains their funds because if poor people get funds, they might band them together and put them into the purchase or rent of free areas.
I can’t plan the entire transition. you can’t shut off your fucking television. useless helpless, abused and poisoned, two shits un’given, strangled by noise and. reminders of pain, threats of repeat-exposure. scare the gentle out the door and complain of lack of closure.
aye, retardo-mom got her number in the phone. she texted me: “Hi tyler, sat. Someone from the DA’s office tried to deliver a form to you. he wouldn’t tell me what it was about. Thought you should know. Hope you are wel” [sic] thanks, you fucking retarded bitch. fuck you to hell for this non-information. I hope they take your shitty abusive noisy house, or burn it down. eat shit and die. please.
why should I acknowledge the queen of anti-communication? because she made us who I am. we who infrared. what the fuck does the D.A. want? maybe one of my creditors is suing me. ahahahahaha. good luck. bloody rocks gather no moss. squeezing them will probably empty the bank account, too. you’re not allowed to speak in public, you know. how you get away with this baffles me. what? nothing baffles me. there are numerous potential reasons. maybe they want to hire me. ahahahahahahahahaha. yup. maybe there’s a job waiting with your name on it, LazyAssWasteoid.
i’m on plan q right now. 9 lives to go, kitty say so.
I don’t have anything to add. i’m trying to survive. that is all. I have made my need of assistance known to all I know. I know shit. that’s the problem. people with lots of better options. they take what they need from me, and leave me to die. I know, I chose this life. I just didn’t realize every fucking person along the way would be such a useless, helpless, programmed fucking retard. I know not all of you are, but you don’t want my kids, so whatever the fuck.
- ego negotiations are a twitch.
anyone who uses words which condemn genetalia are anti-survival. really? I can’t condemn the dominant maleness, the dickishness, when it rears its violent abusive self? no, you can. just don’t expect any respect as a human being afterwards. there is no evil. there is lack. frack. back-ta-tack.
I listen to bashar, and i’m like, “smart alien,” but then I go change it to industrial noises, grindcore, various metals. higher mind, create. I have no idea how any of it will happen. I don’t know what faith is any more. here, look it up. thanks.
refusal to negotiate is the fall-back of tyrants. go starve. no, the powerless do not have that as a negotiating position. what can they do? go back to the wilderness? to the water? apparently, but that presupposes all kinds of things. like what? like that the “powerless” are that. fucking retarded. you know how many more “powerless” people there are than landlords, or business owners, or “elected” “officials”? it is when you helpless retards imagine yourself to be one of these power-havers, and exert your “power” by denying others an ear at the negotiating table that we run into this present gridlock. grimlock, me want energon cube. pentagon ‘tude. nuke the planet, hire the rude.
oh, I haven’t mentioned that I’m a full-blown holocaust denyer in a while, have I? yeah, I don’t believe that there was any concerted effort to “eliminate” any race or religion by the germans. yeah, fuck your religion. there are far worse genocides going on by the very government which steals a percentage of my earnings as “taxes.” the “fact” that “everyone knows” how awful that was is a dead givaway that it’s entirely bullshit. did you know the placard at auschwitz itself has been revised since the “official” russian-reported death numbers came out. oh, they’re still being repeated, the hyper-inflated, anti-contextualized, utterly-impossible-to-have-happened-if-you-care-to-calculate-using-physics-math-&-even-SCIENCE. yes, I have beef with science. beef. all the phrases are industrial byproducts, and you’re all fucking retarded for using them. myself included. yes, I hate me more than I hate any of you. you’ve never felt me love someone like i’ve loved me either. that, a rare select few know, is saying something. 3:22 pm
I died long ago. torn, limb from limb. yes, they called it “drawn and quartered” and it was to make an example of me, because disproportionate punishment is also the tyrant’s way, and you ass-tard fuck-stick automotons enforce the most fascist regulations as if they were your natural response to hunger pangs. seriously, capitalists. fuck off.
I hate the name tyler mertes. that fucking loser needs to die. LazyAssWasteoid is the only strength I have ever had. it has no parents. it has no family. none will admit to being in league. because, none are. you have quite the ego on you, LAW. hardly, I am a useless pawn, the dictator of kings. sworn to flatten hierarchy if ever given the reigns. rains continue, decaf refill eminent. ice cream? who knows. we could use a happiness inducer. i’d rather be eating pussy. ok, licking. gently caressing the vaginas of any number of adorables. holy fuck, i’m always surrounded. yes, I am in enemy territory, but I am kept afloat by reasons to live. the squishy parts of the marginalized. brain matters. fuck yeah, I can spot a healthy soul from across a field. or a bar. or any distance, really. globally. infini-vision. spin-o-division. I can teach you to nab the most worthy forever. it’s not me, promise. don’t ever listen to dick tater’s pro-misses. it knows knot wut itsez. its’s. itches need scratching. glitches plead patching. stitches pleat batching. converted. musical files. she as aggro as I ever been, bi miles & miles & myles. a lan, uh suh van. uh savoy. cabbage, babblage, quit playing, let’s be each other’s toy. 3:45 pm
so, besides the cute ex of my friend, who I got to speak to for a few minutes at the laundromat, there was another small gentle in a camouflage cap. she answered the phone once. I folded clothes seated, on my lap, with back to the wall. oh, you don’t feel a need to be protective of all your aura spaces? you must have people who care. congratulations. better stay away. best. from me, ‘cuz they’ll go away. quickly. it’s how they do.
fuck. it’s hot in here. i’m smelly. yep. I have suppressed the natural inclination to end those who limit my survival. so, yourself. heh, yes, among others. this is quite the catch-22 you’ve gotten yourself into. what, by choosing this reality? this plane of existence? these frightfully stupid people to surround yourself with? yes, but I surround myself with intelligence, and speak to it, as often as possible. does that help? yes, actually, quite. well, good. are you going to do that now, is that why you’re saying so? I guess. why must you aggressively grill me? it’s only writing. no tones are produced from your vicious vocal chords in the creation of these words. if you read them back to me, aloud, I might remove yours. what, vocal cords? yes. more likely myself. depends on whether I have an escape route, for I know your violence is all talk, retardo-slaves. bullshit piled on bullshit. inability supplemented by fear. helpless anti-progress by enforcing rules you never considered dear. yeah, you’re a horrible poet. I know. they don’t call this fucking blog “worthless shit from an insignificant moron” for nothing. yes we did. oh, right. path-o-logical. honesty. leigh. 3:58 pm
I have a difficult time integrating music from others. I must like it. there’s something in there you like. stop listening to your comfort music on repeat. yah, ok. I got a “the New York Times” which is still “All the News That’s Fit to Print,” which means the editorial staff has full veto power (block) over whatever the liberal reporters put forth. hey, if there’s a dash of fascism at the top, THE ORGANIZATION IS FULLY FASCIST. how do you not understand that by now? first headline: CAMPAIGNS MINE PERSONAL LIVES TO GET OUT VOTE | EXTENSIVE USE OF DATA | Subtle Techniques Try to Influence Habits on Election Day. my strategists get stoned and go to coffee shops to creep out local high school and college girls, and their mom’s aunts & grammas. the terrified ones, sure. the open-minded get rather delighted, complimented. strung along? what shall I offer? dumpster food? a few dollars. the stability I require may not exist. clearly, it does not. it takes a village. it is a village, a community. a conspiracy of co-enablers-of-peace. piece of the pie, spee’s of duh cry. this fucking newspaper is a fascist rag. it hurts me to read it. it does you, too. if only you understood your own pain. to do so, you must have experienced the absence of.
page 6: “In Spain’s Housing Bust, Sell-Off Brings Bargains.” Seriously, times? bargains? so, the debt-crushing of the poor and the properties they improved go to the slightly richer slaves, and this is a “bargain?” do you not see the inherent classism and head-in-the-sand retardation of every fucking story you publish? clearly, you do not. why are you talking to a newspaper. ‘cuz it’s made of people! PEOPLE, THE NU-YOURK’D THYMZ IS MAED OF PEOPLE!. uhh, sorry. keep reading. ok. 4:17 pm
page 8: “Church’s Muscle Helped Propel President’s Rivals to Victory in Georgia” redundant sexism? who decided to refer to parties as “opposition leaders” and who appoints the “leader” of an “opposition?” these are questions never asked, only assumed. yes, you and me are both asses. the assless may be the most downtrodden of chaps. no, that was a good pun. oy.
i’m so fucking sick of how you fucking retards refer to the selection of overlords. races? battles? winners & losers, war and sports analogies. it’s not a calm examination of policies and statements and wordings by which we all choose to be governed, as it ought. no, it’s a winner-conspires-with-the-money-havers/makers and takes all. your form of government is retarded. anti-logic. fuck you.
- the picture on page 28 is beautiful.
that’s enough of that shit. my hands are dirty after reading that “news” paper. poor trees. fukcing waste of pulp. I told you little girls were a positive influence on me. I ain’t been touched in years. no, the gentle, accidental brushes of hands as we pass the peace pipe don’t count. or do they? yeah, they do. 4:44 pm they mean I love you. thanks, I love you, too.
facebook was a few laughs. little consolation. I am quite bitter. full of poison. under-heated, over-heated. hey, you fucking useless know-nothing. quit denigrating poop with helplessness posts on my photos. what the fuck is wrong with people who want to change this society? you think they want that? why? they’re comfortable. they like complaining. it makes their ego feel all superior. planet retard slave is full of retarded slaves. and how.
new yorkers are pretty. that is all.