curly ass hair in the face of overwhelming defeat and middle sections
for the first time since i was a young boy growing up in hollis, i discovered a fine part of the human person: that would be the middle part.
if you really stop and look at it, it's a fine piece of machinery.
i noticed earlier this evening when a group of peeps were laying together, each laying opposite one another so one's head was up against another's feet.
interesting.
middle section.
good. sure.
i love the smell of matches.
especially wooden ones.
they have a good smell.
in fect your nose.
so the oakland raiders have lost another superbowl. think of it this way: it means absolutely nothing.
good.
the current helicopter madness - yeah, so it's kind of weird. there are all kinds of helicopters flying overhead looking for potential suspects.
people burning cars and such.
you know.
there's one now.
this is why i need a minidisc recorder.
so i can capture this lovely lovely sound.
don't you know about it/
fucccckkkkk.
forget vanilla ice cream. remember to enjoy only chocolate.
flavored.
pancakes.
puto
sucking - that is an interesting concept. suckin' on chili dog, outside the tastee freez.
back in black
Monday, January 27, 2003
Sunday, January 26, 2003
funny, i feel like i'm in the minority right now, by not watching the superbowl, especially here in oakland, where the raiders are about to go headlong into the game for the first time in 20 years.
not that that necessarily matters one iota.
but it does feel kinda cool to not be tied to that.
of course, the naturally curious part of me does want to know what i'm missing.
plus i really do dig this os X shit. it's soooo much nicer and more intuitive.
just better.
but damn and whoa, am i in a weird place or what?
shit.
fuck and more.
not that that necessarily matters one iota.
but it does feel kinda cool to not be tied to that.
of course, the naturally curious part of me does want to know what i'm missing.
plus i really do dig this os X shit. it's soooo much nicer and more intuitive.
just better.
but damn and whoa, am i in a weird place or what?
shit.
fuck and more.
Wednesday, January 22, 2003
did you ever think about the fact that when women say "i'm going to fuck you." it kind of sounds...wrong.
because....and i'm sure this will be a surprise to most.....women aren't the ones doing the actual "fucking" (unless, of course, they're wearing a strap-on, but that's a whole other issue saved for the next discussion "Why Jesus had an intense disdain for pants") --- see, men are doing the "fucking."
women are the "receivers," the "bottom" if you will.
and i'm sure you do, don't you?
hence, the terms bottom and top in gay relationships.
see, isn't this exciting new knowledge you can use in your everyday life?
current soundtrack "whatever else" by unknown artist on the compilation Button Down Beats
ok, ok, back to the matter at hand, right?
i also just downloaded norah jones because i am curious to know what she sounds like. i must keep up on all the current trends, being the news junkie and all.
and also, i am about to listen to the Bobby Hughes Combination's Nhu Golden Era, a fine fine release.
yes.
ok, here we go. watch my speed.
shuttlecocks for all
because....and i'm sure this will be a surprise to most.....women aren't the ones doing the actual "fucking" (unless, of course, they're wearing a strap-on, but that's a whole other issue saved for the next discussion "Why Jesus had an intense disdain for pants") --- see, men are doing the "fucking."
women are the "receivers," the "bottom" if you will.
and i'm sure you do, don't you?
hence, the terms bottom and top in gay relationships.
see, isn't this exciting new knowledge you can use in your everyday life?
current soundtrack "whatever else" by unknown artist on the compilation Button Down Beats
ok, ok, back to the matter at hand, right?
i also just downloaded norah jones because i am curious to know what she sounds like. i must keep up on all the current trends, being the news junkie and all.
and also, i am about to listen to the Bobby Hughes Combination's Nhu Golden Era, a fine fine release.
yes.
ok, here we go. watch my speed.
shuttlecocks for all
what's with recent overuse of the words "premier" and "premiere."
first off, i see it used wrong at least 50 percent of the time. that's when people say "come join us at our premiere theater, the best in town or we'll cut off our hands" or "we have the premiere sound system of the bay area, guaranteed to shave off 5 to 10 percent of your hearing in one listen."
see, both of these sentences need "premier" not "premiere."
a movie opening for the first time, that's a premiere.
but if you're the best goddamned box cutter maker in the county, you are the premier box cutter maker, not "premiere."
oh how will i teach the youth of today? how?
people pick up on words and phrases they hear, repeat them, usually without knowing exactly what they mean.
"make no mistake, we will not fail, for we are america, strong of heart, will and shitloads of fat cells hanging over our belt loops."
make no mistake, geez, what a shitty phrase.
see, i MEAN what i say by adding "make no mistake," usually used to add emphasis. we mean business fuckwad.
off with their heads.
i wish my brother george was here.
or hear.
too bad my brother is david.
dpg
not actually too bad. he's cool. he wants to fire you though.
stink/stench/fetid
fetid is good.
i like fetid.
flammery. i heard that in an old english film, i believe "the madness of king george" (what what?).
excellent film, i might add.
and i do.
addition was always fun.
don't you think?
i am drinking coffee.
they are standing still.
i am getting up earlier since being laid off.
what is that all about?
wacky mr. tobacky.
wacko mr. relaxo.
fucked up mr. fucked up.
damn, i lost my patience/patients/nascent orange aid breath.
my collapsed lung sees all.
my iron lung loves magnetism. lots of animal magnatism.
for you are the magnet.
and i ammmm the steeeeeeeel.
yessssssss.
i should have been a snake, huh?
i coulda been a contender.
pudgy chuck loves making love to wimpy winomena.
make love, inside your bead, everybody...
i played "get down make love" at the edward gorey event.
i am special.
i am loved.
i am woman.
i am womyn.
i am man.
i am human.
i'm only human....like the Human League.
or the League of Nations.
it takes a nation of millions to hold us back.
back in black.
black widow.
black velvet if you please.
please please let me get what i want.
please please me.
Come see about me.
Come together.
Happy Together.
Happy Trails.
Happy is gone.
long live the fading memory of Happy.
pudgy alice doesn't like plump chuck anymore.
and that's total bullshit.
don't you agree shampoop?
love for sale.
a forgone conclusion.
first off, i see it used wrong at least 50 percent of the time. that's when people say "come join us at our premiere theater, the best in town or we'll cut off our hands" or "we have the premiere sound system of the bay area, guaranteed to shave off 5 to 10 percent of your hearing in one listen."
see, both of these sentences need "premier" not "premiere."
a movie opening for the first time, that's a premiere.
but if you're the best goddamned box cutter maker in the county, you are the premier box cutter maker, not "premiere."
oh how will i teach the youth of today? how?
people pick up on words and phrases they hear, repeat them, usually without knowing exactly what they mean.
"make no mistake, we will not fail, for we are america, strong of heart, will and shitloads of fat cells hanging over our belt loops."
make no mistake, geez, what a shitty phrase.
see, i MEAN what i say by adding "make no mistake," usually used to add emphasis. we mean business fuckwad.
off with their heads.
i wish my brother george was here.
or hear.
too bad my brother is david.
dpg
not actually too bad. he's cool. he wants to fire you though.
stink/stench/fetid
fetid is good.
i like fetid.
flammery. i heard that in an old english film, i believe "the madness of king george" (what what?).
excellent film, i might add.
and i do.
addition was always fun.
don't you think?
i am drinking coffee.
they are standing still.
i am getting up earlier since being laid off.
what is that all about?
wacky mr. tobacky.
wacko mr. relaxo.
fucked up mr. fucked up.
damn, i lost my patience/patients/nascent orange aid breath.
my collapsed lung sees all.
my iron lung loves magnetism. lots of animal magnatism.
for you are the magnet.
and i ammmm the steeeeeeeel.
yessssssss.
i should have been a snake, huh?
i coulda been a contender.
pudgy chuck loves making love to wimpy winomena.
make love, inside your bead, everybody...
i played "get down make love" at the edward gorey event.
i am special.
i am loved.
i am woman.
i am womyn.
i am man.
i am human.
i'm only human....like the Human League.
or the League of Nations.
it takes a nation of millions to hold us back.
back in black.
black widow.
black velvet if you please.
please please let me get what i want.
please please me.
Come see about me.
Come together.
Happy Together.
Happy Trails.
Happy is gone.
long live the fading memory of Happy.
pudgy alice doesn't like plump chuck anymore.
and that's total bullshit.
don't you agree shampoop?
love for sale.
a forgone conclusion.
Tuesday, January 21, 2003
holy fuck, those raider mini-riots were really close to where we live. like on international and 38th. no wonder there were helicopters with spotlights.
and yet, many said the craziness went on unchecked for a long long time (hours in some spots) with few if any cops. yet, thenight before, these same fine oakland police are breaking up parties in our building? come ON.
lame lame lame.
and yes, lame.
crackle.
and yet, many said the craziness went on unchecked for a long long time (hours in some spots) with few if any cops. yet, thenight before, these same fine oakland police are breaking up parties in our building? come ON.
lame lame lame.
and yes, lame.
crackle.
Sunday, January 19, 2003
today was one of those days when i actually said to myself "fuck, san francisco bugs me sometimes."
whoa, that's a new one for me.
maybe it was the overly friendly cab driver with the big fucking boil/giant purplish bump thing on his cheek, who brian snapped at when the fool was manhandling his mirror we had just purchased at bed bath and beyond.
shit, even there, poor brian was felled by nasty cart that wasn't really working and then he snapped at the super overly friendly guard at BBB, who complained a sign should be placed somewhere detailing the inability to use said carts to potential customers.
dammit.
me, i was in there to buy a space heater since on the same day, wednesday, my car died, i was told that the san jose page was ending and our heater in our house stopped working. and it's been cold, not COLD cold, but cold for SF.
you know.
just all the walking around, bullshit and then we got on a bus thinking we were going the right way until we got to caltrans and they yell "End of the line."
fuck that.
end of the line.
and then she snapped at brian when he was trying to find out how to get to the rightone.
and then we took the cab.
yummy.
jesus.
yeah, so i just want to chill alone for awhile and veg before the onslaught overtakes me and i actually have to start doing something.
yep.
i am not going to freak out this time.
fuck that.
so here i go.
rock.
edward gorey thing last night seemed really cool. more later.
as was mcsweeney's, eggers' store on valencia.
neato.
really neato.
fudge.
chocolate.
death.
bye bye
whoa, that's a new one for me.
maybe it was the overly friendly cab driver with the big fucking boil/giant purplish bump thing on his cheek, who brian snapped at when the fool was manhandling his mirror we had just purchased at bed bath and beyond.
shit, even there, poor brian was felled by nasty cart that wasn't really working and then he snapped at the super overly friendly guard at BBB, who complained a sign should be placed somewhere detailing the inability to use said carts to potential customers.
dammit.
me, i was in there to buy a space heater since on the same day, wednesday, my car died, i was told that the san jose page was ending and our heater in our house stopped working. and it's been cold, not COLD cold, but cold for SF.
you know.
just all the walking around, bullshit and then we got on a bus thinking we were going the right way until we got to caltrans and they yell "End of the line."
fuck that.
end of the line.
and then she snapped at brian when he was trying to find out how to get to the rightone.
and then we took the cab.
yummy.
jesus.
yeah, so i just want to chill alone for awhile and veg before the onslaught overtakes me and i actually have to start doing something.
yep.
i am not going to freak out this time.
fuck that.
so here i go.
rock.
edward gorey thing last night seemed really cool. more later.
as was mcsweeney's, eggers' store on valencia.
neato.
really neato.
fudge.
chocolate.
death.
bye bye
Friday, January 17, 2003
at least you know what you're saying when she drops off the tomato juice.
there's never a chance of making up your christmas holiday season is there.
can you believe it?
it's happened again.
i'm unemployed.
well, it went from being kinda weird on wednesday, me thinking i was going to have a day or two left, to fucking nothing.
see how it was all bullshit.
of course, i'm upset about the whole EBE thing but what can you do?
at the time, i thought i was making the right decision by not taking the job, not switch jobs for the nth time in the last year and a half. too much moving, too much change, too much getting accustomed to new people, new subculture, new duties, new weird shit...like the 404, code for going to use the bathroom at whole foods....that place was interesting though.
but yeah, whatever.
i worked there a month.
though i'll never forget standing outside whole foods, holiding a candle in a vigil after 9/11. fucked up.
fucked up.
spaghetti and meatballs.
it's all bullshit. this whole mess. this whole thing. this fucking world and it's bullshit. it stinks.
yet here we are lockstep ready to got war with some fucking country that has nothing to do with anything. oh i recognize the danger, manger boy, but jesus jeebus, come ON.
lame lame lame lame lame lame.
can you hear what i'm saying?
he was really saying nothing.
impresario.
bullshit.
conde nast.
so here i am.. back to this.
back to this.
here. this.
yes.
so what of it.
of course.
lamination is the answer.
so here we are. here we go.
again.
more of the same. yet different.
yet think of all the cool people you met whilst engaged in this constant moving back and forth. forth and back.
here and there.
learning the city and all its nuances. say, hey now we're on to something.
hey, yeh, no, low?
pungent stench.
oh but to be something.
so here i go, plunging forward into the abyss, coming off a double dose of whammies and not trying all that hard to pitch. those days are changing though.
but coming up with new cool stories that the minions will demand, they must have in their grubby little hands and devour it, not stoppping to read it for more than a second or two, so absorbed that they miss their bart/muni stop.
it's chaos. you want it to be chaos.
to be as much about the wordplay as what's being said.
even if what's being said makes no sense and is complete and utter non sequiter nonsense.
yes.
people will crave.
they will yearn.
they will want it for themselves.
so yeah, i had a funny feeling i woke up this morning.
good thing i've been a bit of a slacker of late. maybe subconsciously i knew.
maybe.
doubtful totally.
i got blindsided with this on wednesday, moments after coming back in from a late afternoon lunch at some french cafe up near china town with misa, hanging tough while we talked potential new things on the horizon,things we want to do to change the musical interests of this town, because we can change the world.
you know how it is.
see. we are a cut above. a cut above. we are better than most. we just need to execute. to make it happen. and it will. it will happen. there's no way for it not to happen.
it's ours for the taking. ours. for sure. people appreciate deep thought, original thinking, uniqueness, different.
we think differently.
or we think different, according to apple.
my coffee in my stolen from a bar pint glass is getting cold. it is cold in our place because the goddamn heater isn't working and our portable heater isn't working and i can't go get another one because my goddamn car isn't working, died on the same day as the heater, just got into the car and it wouldnt' start, battery dead or some sort of electrical issue.
whatever.
the case.
it is dead. will not start. i have had no time to do anything else.
and tonight i must find porn for tina.
i must get earthlink, so i can still get online.
aol is no more.
so i got the frantic call from misa while my phone was charging, turned off. i didn't leave for work until 10:30am.
they were waiting for me, the people from the employment agency. tim the slacker, the late ass, the guy who had to be woken up by john gaines two days prior at noon because the dumb ass didn't wake up...didn't really give a shit...though neither did john, not really. maybe he already knew then.
but first we were told, that day, after coming back from the french cafe, full of exciting ideas and just as taken aback about running into tina's old boss, just back in town from australia, the guy who still owes major money to tina, they were just randomly walking by, on their way to go meet with tina...so weird how things work sometimes huh? fucking bizarre.
john yanks me aside, as if there was some urgent thing, sits me down and tells me that they're shutting down san jose and sacramento, folding them over into San Francisco page.
oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck, not again.
but then john says that he thinks i've done a good job (which is sort of questionable but hey, who am i to fucking quibble?) shit. ass.
damn.
he says that if they only cut one, my job is safe. but why would that happen since they were shutting down two cities.
but then he says he has work for me. which i barely did any of.
mostly it was letting people know i potentially was fucked.
it is weird to know i dont' have to worry about the page anymore.
there is a peace about that.
fuck.
how long was this job?
right before halloween.
october, late october.
not quite three months.
wow. how lame can it get?
damn.
they keep getting shorter and shorter.
damn.
it's all over, everything is over.
dammit.
the misa mindmeld happened for a reason. we will help each other. we can help each other.
she is good. she is what i needed, a good kick in the ass. she is smart and such.
good good.
so i got the call while my phone was charging. i didn't leave till like 10:30am, not arriving to work till about 11:10am.
i had a funny feeling before i got the call, before i checked the voicemail. i knew something was up, something was not right. fucked up. but then, i can always sense things.
that is my gift, the thing that i always follow up with to my friends in the know that "if i could only harness this power, everything would work out just right."
see, that's the thing.
fucking a.
but how do i do that?
follow baal to the ends of the earth?
i don't think so mochito.
last night at butter, when billysirr told me that his pal who works at aol digital city said more layoffs were going down in LA on friday, today.
hmmm, i thought.
could be could be.
hope not.
could be.
this is becoming routine to me know.
dammit.
cannot dwell on the missed opportunity though.
can't.
don't.
won't.
do not.
even though it's hard.
so i stink right now.
popcorn.
good thing smelling your own stench is ok for some reason.
you like you.
so i'm not sure, get the call from misa, she's scared, sounds weird.
something about arne's email saying the SF office was closed. now it wasn't just me and brendan saying goodbye. it was everyone.
damn, just when things were starting to click among us.
of course, i come in at the tail end of things once again, like i'm always late with everything else in my life.
hmmm.
could be in the cards richter boy.
so when i walked in, i knew almost immediately.
people couldn't believe i already knew. amazing.
no way.
how?
northern state is a fine hip-hop act from NYC.
interpol....
so i was yanked away immediately after john told me what was up, and there i went off to see the spherion people, the english woman with the big glasses and sharp accent. friendly, firm, warm.
i liked her.
and so we said our shit, they said their shit, and i was off to go through all my crap...did i mention the security guard camped on our floor?
he was friendly , a fine fellow.
enjoyable. we had a good rapport.
he liked the magazine selection i was throwing in the pile.
actually he really didn't like the magazine selection.
he wasn't all that down with that shit.
nope.
he wasn't.
but wanted other ones. he liked the wave. ha ha mother fucker.
point it at the buoy.
mad about the buoy
and then i spent several hours (maybe two) going through all my email, sending it to a brand new account i just set up and off to the races i went. fuck yeah fuckpig.
no more no more no more. it was a nice view. dammit. i liked it. it was easy.
bothersome, sure, but come on.
it wasn't that difficult.
i made it hard.
wasn't my fault yet again.
nope.
the post-work hangout with all those people i didn't every really hang out with was cool.
more fun than i would have thought.
and ol condes, she's fun...so not what the package says it is.
and she knows it.
so cool.
these are good people.
crazy.
seeing ol' kim getting her smoke on at that place...shit where were we again? not expansion was it?
that other place...over by church...not chow.
i don't konw the damn name charles.
it was fun fun fun.
mega mega white thing mega mega mega mega.
dammit charles at least you have a melon ball for us.
fudge fo rme.
suck fist of fake ness.
ok back to the mission at hand. sexual favors for all and to all a good night.
make love to pins.
please.
there's never a chance of making up your christmas holiday season is there.
can you believe it?
it's happened again.
i'm unemployed.
well, it went from being kinda weird on wednesday, me thinking i was going to have a day or two left, to fucking nothing.
see how it was all bullshit.
of course, i'm upset about the whole EBE thing but what can you do?
at the time, i thought i was making the right decision by not taking the job, not switch jobs for the nth time in the last year and a half. too much moving, too much change, too much getting accustomed to new people, new subculture, new duties, new weird shit...like the 404, code for going to use the bathroom at whole foods....that place was interesting though.
but yeah, whatever.
i worked there a month.
though i'll never forget standing outside whole foods, holiding a candle in a vigil after 9/11. fucked up.
fucked up.
spaghetti and meatballs.
it's all bullshit. this whole mess. this whole thing. this fucking world and it's bullshit. it stinks.
yet here we are lockstep ready to got war with some fucking country that has nothing to do with anything. oh i recognize the danger, manger boy, but jesus jeebus, come ON.
lame lame lame lame lame lame.
can you hear what i'm saying?
he was really saying nothing.
impresario.
bullshit.
conde nast.
so here i am.. back to this.
back to this.
here. this.
yes.
so what of it.
of course.
lamination is the answer.
so here we are. here we go.
again.
more of the same. yet different.
yet think of all the cool people you met whilst engaged in this constant moving back and forth. forth and back.
here and there.
learning the city and all its nuances. say, hey now we're on to something.
hey, yeh, no, low?
pungent stench.
oh but to be something.
so here i go, plunging forward into the abyss, coming off a double dose of whammies and not trying all that hard to pitch. those days are changing though.
but coming up with new cool stories that the minions will demand, they must have in their grubby little hands and devour it, not stoppping to read it for more than a second or two, so absorbed that they miss their bart/muni stop.
it's chaos. you want it to be chaos.
to be as much about the wordplay as what's being said.
even if what's being said makes no sense and is complete and utter non sequiter nonsense.
yes.
people will crave.
they will yearn.
they will want it for themselves.
so yeah, i had a funny feeling i woke up this morning.
good thing i've been a bit of a slacker of late. maybe subconsciously i knew.
maybe.
doubtful totally.
i got blindsided with this on wednesday, moments after coming back in from a late afternoon lunch at some french cafe up near china town with misa, hanging tough while we talked potential new things on the horizon,things we want to do to change the musical interests of this town, because we can change the world.
you know how it is.
see. we are a cut above. a cut above. we are better than most. we just need to execute. to make it happen. and it will. it will happen. there's no way for it not to happen.
it's ours for the taking. ours. for sure. people appreciate deep thought, original thinking, uniqueness, different.
we think differently.
or we think different, according to apple.
my coffee in my stolen from a bar pint glass is getting cold. it is cold in our place because the goddamn heater isn't working and our portable heater isn't working and i can't go get another one because my goddamn car isn't working, died on the same day as the heater, just got into the car and it wouldnt' start, battery dead or some sort of electrical issue.
whatever.
the case.
it is dead. will not start. i have had no time to do anything else.
and tonight i must find porn for tina.
i must get earthlink, so i can still get online.
aol is no more.
so i got the frantic call from misa while my phone was charging, turned off. i didn't leave for work until 10:30am.
they were waiting for me, the people from the employment agency. tim the slacker, the late ass, the guy who had to be woken up by john gaines two days prior at noon because the dumb ass didn't wake up...didn't really give a shit...though neither did john, not really. maybe he already knew then.
but first we were told, that day, after coming back from the french cafe, full of exciting ideas and just as taken aback about running into tina's old boss, just back in town from australia, the guy who still owes major money to tina, they were just randomly walking by, on their way to go meet with tina...so weird how things work sometimes huh? fucking bizarre.
john yanks me aside, as if there was some urgent thing, sits me down and tells me that they're shutting down san jose and sacramento, folding them over into San Francisco page.
oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck, not again.
but then john says that he thinks i've done a good job (which is sort of questionable but hey, who am i to fucking quibble?) shit. ass.
damn.
he says that if they only cut one, my job is safe. but why would that happen since they were shutting down two cities.
but then he says he has work for me. which i barely did any of.
mostly it was letting people know i potentially was fucked.
it is weird to know i dont' have to worry about the page anymore.
there is a peace about that.
fuck.
how long was this job?
right before halloween.
october, late october.
not quite three months.
wow. how lame can it get?
damn.
they keep getting shorter and shorter.
damn.
it's all over, everything is over.
dammit.
the misa mindmeld happened for a reason. we will help each other. we can help each other.
she is good. she is what i needed, a good kick in the ass. she is smart and such.
good good.
so i got the call while my phone was charging. i didn't leave till like 10:30am, not arriving to work till about 11:10am.
i had a funny feeling before i got the call, before i checked the voicemail. i knew something was up, something was not right. fucked up. but then, i can always sense things.
that is my gift, the thing that i always follow up with to my friends in the know that "if i could only harness this power, everything would work out just right."
see, that's the thing.
fucking a.
but how do i do that?
follow baal to the ends of the earth?
i don't think so mochito.
last night at butter, when billysirr told me that his pal who works at aol digital city said more layoffs were going down in LA on friday, today.
hmmm, i thought.
could be could be.
hope not.
could be.
this is becoming routine to me know.
dammit.
cannot dwell on the missed opportunity though.
can't.
don't.
won't.
do not.
even though it's hard.
so i stink right now.
popcorn.
good thing smelling your own stench is ok for some reason.
you like you.
so i'm not sure, get the call from misa, she's scared, sounds weird.
something about arne's email saying the SF office was closed. now it wasn't just me and brendan saying goodbye. it was everyone.
damn, just when things were starting to click among us.
of course, i come in at the tail end of things once again, like i'm always late with everything else in my life.
hmmm.
could be in the cards richter boy.
so when i walked in, i knew almost immediately.
people couldn't believe i already knew. amazing.
no way.
how?
northern state is a fine hip-hop act from NYC.
interpol....
so i was yanked away immediately after john told me what was up, and there i went off to see the spherion people, the english woman with the big glasses and sharp accent. friendly, firm, warm.
i liked her.
and so we said our shit, they said their shit, and i was off to go through all my crap...did i mention the security guard camped on our floor?
he was friendly , a fine fellow.
enjoyable. we had a good rapport.
he liked the magazine selection i was throwing in the pile.
actually he really didn't like the magazine selection.
he wasn't all that down with that shit.
nope.
he wasn't.
but wanted other ones. he liked the wave. ha ha mother fucker.
point it at the buoy.
mad about the buoy
and then i spent several hours (maybe two) going through all my email, sending it to a brand new account i just set up and off to the races i went. fuck yeah fuckpig.
no more no more no more. it was a nice view. dammit. i liked it. it was easy.
bothersome, sure, but come on.
it wasn't that difficult.
i made it hard.
wasn't my fault yet again.
nope.
the post-work hangout with all those people i didn't every really hang out with was cool.
more fun than i would have thought.
and ol condes, she's fun...so not what the package says it is.
and she knows it.
so cool.
these are good people.
crazy.
seeing ol' kim getting her smoke on at that place...shit where were we again? not expansion was it?
that other place...over by church...not chow.
i don't konw the damn name charles.
it was fun fun fun.
mega mega white thing mega mega mega mega.
dammit charles at least you have a melon ball for us.
fudge fo rme.
suck fist of fake ness.
ok back to the mission at hand. sexual favors for all and to all a good night.
make love to pins.
please.
i got outta my funky headspace...somehow, already.
i can't say i'm in the clear totally. hee.
but.
the point is.
this is the point.
the point is.
i'm ok,you're ok. gee.
no it was cool,the free butter stop-in. even with dirty kfc (i did engage in some insta-whip potatoes and grummy gravy...yummy....but no chicken for me thanks). it got too crowded. but i did run into a pal who knows the owner of butter and we are goign to be introduced at a dinner party yet to be determined. but it's a good size to start something sorta small...crowd is questionable though tolerable...however, this WAS a night of free booze for two hours so as you can imagine it got pretty crowded.
this one dumb girl went up to every guy ina row and asked them (me first) how many piercings i had and where, how many tattoos i had (none) and kept on going through all of us.
but she was bullshitting and somehow i asked her (because i decided to call her on her shit) what she did and she says "oh i'm a hypnotist. see i'm wearing these sunglasses (she was, bad ones) so i don't hypnotize you." and i go "how do you make any money as a hypnotist?" she's like "not much."
yadda.
i digress.
as always.
the devil is in the details.
i can't say i'm in the clear totally. hee.
but.
the point is.
this is the point.
the point is.
i'm ok,you're ok. gee.
no it was cool,the free butter stop-in. even with dirty kfc (i did engage in some insta-whip potatoes and grummy gravy...yummy....but no chicken for me thanks). it got too crowded. but i did run into a pal who knows the owner of butter and we are goign to be introduced at a dinner party yet to be determined. but it's a good size to start something sorta small...crowd is questionable though tolerable...however, this WAS a night of free booze for two hours so as you can imagine it got pretty crowded.
this one dumb girl went up to every guy ina row and asked them (me first) how many piercings i had and where, how many tattoos i had (none) and kept on going through all of us.
but she was bullshitting and somehow i asked her (because i decided to call her on her shit) what she did and she says "oh i'm a hypnotist. see i'm wearing these sunglasses (she was, bad ones) so i don't hypnotize you." and i go "how do you make any money as a hypnotist?" she's like "not much."
yadda.
i digress.
as always.
the devil is in the details.
it was all a big scam. all of it. the whole fucking bubble bullshit.
as you can see,i'm right on top of the latest trends.
fucking bullshit.
amazing the same day i find out i may be losing my job for, oh, the third time now here in the bay area, other people are too.
but you know. that's not the real issue.
the real issue is fucking pancakes.
you know they are good. don't you charlie?
yes, yes i do.
they are quite good.
fattening but good.
i stuff them in my mouth often. they are a delightful chew.
i tell you pater, i tell you
now watch me choke on this blade of grass.
soundfactory.
i have not left the forestry business yet.
join the national coast guard reunion battle ground erector set using soliders.
damn good ones too.
fudge pickles.
basically, that person is not alive.
look at least you get to keep the bunion stick.
of course i love gravy. except when punting.
then i don't need it. it's better this way.
learn how to steer.
dear.
mirror wall.
wonderwall.
stever wonder.
wonder twin power, activate.
activation fees.
feces on my feet is neat and sweet.
sweet home alabama.
home on the range, where the deer and the antelope play
rangerovers are the scourge of middle earth.
stuck in the middle with you.
happy to be stuck with you.
happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you.
---longer letter later----
the ability to get really good drugs impresses people in San Francisco. this i know.
this i see.
come with me to the kingdom of domeheads.
as you can see,i'm right on top of the latest trends.
fucking bullshit.
amazing the same day i find out i may be losing my job for, oh, the third time now here in the bay area, other people are too.
but you know. that's not the real issue.
the real issue is fucking pancakes.
you know they are good. don't you charlie?
yes, yes i do.
they are quite good.
fattening but good.
i stuff them in my mouth often. they are a delightful chew.
i tell you pater, i tell you
now watch me choke on this blade of grass.
soundfactory.
i have not left the forestry business yet.
join the national coast guard reunion battle ground erector set using soliders.
damn good ones too.
fudge pickles.
basically, that person is not alive.
look at least you get to keep the bunion stick.
of course i love gravy. except when punting.
then i don't need it. it's better this way.
learn how to steer.
dear.
mirror wall.
wonderwall.
stever wonder.
wonder twin power, activate.
activation fees.
feces on my feet is neat and sweet.
sweet home alabama.
home on the range, where the deer and the antelope play
rangerovers are the scourge of middle earth.
stuck in the middle with you.
happy to be stuck with you.
happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you.
---longer letter later----
the ability to get really good drugs impresses people in San Francisco. this i know.
this i see.
come with me to the kingdom of domeheads.
Thursday, January 16, 2003
and also,
joe strummer would have my head in a fucking toilet if he knew that i downloaded a bunch of Clash songs right after he died.
jesus, i am soooo predictable.
what is it about death that legitimizes anyone's art, no matter how bad/frivolous/kick-ass good sheeit/amazing it is?
huh>?
it's weird isn't it?
don't you love forward slash?
that guy next to me in bart, the guy who kept doing the casual glance to stare at me (could be my shoes, they do stand out those ones that are white all around and black on top and look like bowling shoes).
the diana ross drunk tape comes out friday.
wow, the future.
ooooooh, the future.
the future.
the future.
neet.
and neat.
fuckpig.
shat.
lacquer.
do you like the things that life is showing you?
do you know?
pushy
bitch.
dated.
for sure.
cancer.
cancer.
lancer.
manger.
mangy.
grunge never existed. but now...it did.
so weird.
pound something into people's heads enough and they accept it.
that's weird.
culture is forced upon us now.
it is.
joe strummer would have my head in a fucking toilet if he knew that i downloaded a bunch of Clash songs right after he died.
jesus, i am soooo predictable.
what is it about death that legitimizes anyone's art, no matter how bad/frivolous/kick-ass good sheeit/amazing it is?
huh>?
it's weird isn't it?
don't you love forward slash?
that guy next to me in bart, the guy who kept doing the casual glance to stare at me (could be my shoes, they do stand out those ones that are white all around and black on top and look like bowling shoes).
the diana ross drunk tape comes out friday.
wow, the future.
ooooooh, the future.
the future.
the future.
neet.
and neat.
fuckpig.
shat.
lacquer.
do you like the things that life is showing you?
do you know?
pushy
bitch.
dated.
for sure.
cancer.
cancer.
lancer.
manger.
mangy.
grunge never existed. but now...it did.
so weird.
pound something into people's heads enough and they accept it.
that's weird.
culture is forced upon us now.
it is.
as i was saying, wobbly, sobbing,
in a beautiful place, which has a lot of vowels, the music i was listening to in the preceding discussion was Verve, a fine band.
old verve though.
like 1993.
as i said, old.
now boards of canada is playing. i am not shaking all that much.
i have a game.
i have turned my head again.
beautiful place.
liquor.
not what i'm thinking. you are wrong.
change your mind.
you are wrong.
smell my flower in my butt.
emerging from my pants.
at the small of my back.
thank you for the small of my back.
it didn't exist before.
i remember those days.
what are you going to do with that stupid little space? oh i'll use it for smalls of backs. a small number of people will go apeshit about them and believe it's the key to life.
and you know what? they are right?
that's what i'll say.
to those people.
not the people reading this. but the other people. the people we don't like.
most people.
why are we so fucking obsessed with ourselves? has anybody stopped to ask that question?
we have to record every goddamn thing? it alll means SOMETHING.
now there are gobs of hard drives the world over overloaded with information about this age. why?
is it because we are already preparing for the forgone conclusion?
that we are all going to die and the machines are the only things that will survive.
there is more to this machine thing than you think.
not like i'm paranoid in any way.
i am not.
i certainly am not paranoid.
i know for a fact i'm not.
\
charles mingus maintains that he can create a self-portrait in three colors.
do you know how he does it from the grave?
up from the grave he arose.
you know all about that.
why stand at all?
why ?
\
threee. why three. trinity thing?
what?
i truly believe we humans are missing something really really big.
and nobody knows about it. including me.
but something is happening beyond our control.
the whole human thing is really really weird.
but i'm not getting into all that now.
maybe.
straw hats.
and crewcuts.
haircut 100.
sidewalk talk.
i think i'm ending for now.
sorry to lead you on a wild goose chase, duck chase, spooky chase, punjab crankola taste. at least you have freshness.
and that's all that really matters. freshness.
this is where it's happening.
in a beautiful place, which has a lot of vowels, the music i was listening to in the preceding discussion was Verve, a fine band.
old verve though.
like 1993.
as i said, old.
now boards of canada is playing. i am not shaking all that much.
i have a game.
i have turned my head again.
beautiful place.
liquor.
not what i'm thinking. you are wrong.
change your mind.
you are wrong.
smell my flower in my butt.
emerging from my pants.
at the small of my back.
thank you for the small of my back.
it didn't exist before.
i remember those days.
what are you going to do with that stupid little space? oh i'll use it for smalls of backs. a small number of people will go apeshit about them and believe it's the key to life.
and you know what? they are right?
that's what i'll say.
to those people.
not the people reading this. but the other people. the people we don't like.
most people.
why are we so fucking obsessed with ourselves? has anybody stopped to ask that question?
we have to record every goddamn thing? it alll means SOMETHING.
now there are gobs of hard drives the world over overloaded with information about this age. why?
is it because we are already preparing for the forgone conclusion?
that we are all going to die and the machines are the only things that will survive.
there is more to this machine thing than you think.
not like i'm paranoid in any way.
i am not.
i certainly am not paranoid.
i know for a fact i'm not.
\
charles mingus maintains that he can create a self-portrait in three colors.
do you know how he does it from the grave?
up from the grave he arose.
you know all about that.
why stand at all?
why ?
\
threee. why three. trinity thing?
what?
i truly believe we humans are missing something really really big.
and nobody knows about it. including me.
but something is happening beyond our control.
the whole human thing is really really weird.
but i'm not getting into all that now.
maybe.
straw hats.
and crewcuts.
haircut 100.
sidewalk talk.
i think i'm ending for now.
sorry to lead you on a wild goose chase, duck chase, spooky chase, punjab crankola taste. at least you have freshness.
and that's all that really matters. freshness.
this is where it's happening.
since it seems as if i am now, sort of understanding my life and how it works,
and that any action has a reaction.
just like teachers used to tell me.
i can't believe it.
wwhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaammm
this thin hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
ovulating
crescents
shards
disassociative
why does everything have to be rooted in reality? that is the problem we have yes.
that is the problem
what is is about this.
what is it.
you know.
you know but you don't want to really know the truth, even though it is staring you in the face.
and then some
some
some
some
some
some
i have to loook at th positives as i shift into this hole that i'm about to enter.
and here go.......
loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooop
my problem with psychedelics is that i analyze them sooooo much that i belittle and put down , as if to say "is that all you've got you fuckin pussy?"
because really, that's where the disconnect develops.
the sun needs to just shine.
that's all we need.
tripping and reading really don't mix.
that is the problem.
no one can really quantify the drug experience completely because the focus becomes too much.
this music seems to be really helping my experience.
thkin
thinking
in the same way with better spelling.
shards
lasers
shooting over my head. i'm in awe.
you should be too.
they're right above you. too.
they're around you now. swimming in the air.
there's a slight film, in between the screen and me.
see how this is all changing.morphing. seething. dissolving. emerging.
reliving.
patronizing.
forgiving
lvoing
loving
pageantry
is the key
feel the white space. that's all you really have
that one space.
that one white space that you can go to.
that's where i go. once in awhile and the song is over and the overwhelming sound of you punching the keyboard becomes apparent and just as suddenly, like a person who shows up at a party uninvited, the music playing now does not work at all.
fuck you mammal.
......
and suddenly my world has been narrowed.
my world is direct.
my world is in action.
that beat that dips just below the sex line. you know the one.
the one.
beat.
beat.
beat.
beat.
it's there.
listen.
chill.
hearit?
you need the white space staring back at you.
i can tell you that.
it's a given.
a must.
a must.
stop being so goddamned self-reflective.obsessed. can't you see the writing on the screen asshole? i know you can. it's coming from somewhere.
maybe the chair can help. as it comes alive at this very second.
and moves me downward.
how is it that chair decides that it's time to move around a little bit despite the fact that my physical body remains intact. how can that happen?
rich brisk beats.
ovaltine.
in the streets.
comfort.
not far.
danger
not big time danger
looking lookin looking
music is the answer
it is so simple
yes
all will be saved
all will be lost
nothing has been won
nothing has been lost
hate your real true champion of the deep.
i crave it.
i do know that i am officially here now.
i know that.
ok?
i am
iam
i fucking am
listen to those synthesized sounds@!
more running than a merger.
i have no idea what that means, which is a cliche, in itself.
what am i doing?
is this the new god?
god is not what you think.
did i stutter?
i know you must read it again.
go back.
i'll wait.
i've got this page and all.
punch it
and that any action has a reaction.
just like teachers used to tell me.
i can't believe it.
wwhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaammm
this thin hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
ovulating
crescents
shards
disassociative
why does everything have to be rooted in reality? that is the problem we have yes.
that is the problem
what is is about this.
what is it.
you know.
you know but you don't want to really know the truth, even though it is staring you in the face.
and then some
some
some
some
some
some
i have to loook at th positives as i shift into this hole that i'm about to enter.
and here go.......
loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooop
my problem with psychedelics is that i analyze them sooooo much that i belittle and put down , as if to say "is that all you've got you fuckin pussy?"
because really, that's where the disconnect develops.
the sun needs to just shine.
that's all we need.
tripping and reading really don't mix.
that is the problem.
no one can really quantify the drug experience completely because the focus becomes too much.
this music seems to be really helping my experience.
thkin
thinking
in the same way with better spelling.
shards
lasers
shooting over my head. i'm in awe.
you should be too.
they're right above you. too.
they're around you now. swimming in the air.
there's a slight film, in between the screen and me.
see how this is all changing.morphing. seething. dissolving. emerging.
reliving.
patronizing.
forgiving
lvoing
loving
pageantry
is the key
feel the white space. that's all you really have
that one space.
that one white space that you can go to.
that's where i go. once in awhile and the song is over and the overwhelming sound of you punching the keyboard becomes apparent and just as suddenly, like a person who shows up at a party uninvited, the music playing now does not work at all.
fuck you mammal.
......
and suddenly my world has been narrowed.
my world is direct.
my world is in action.
that beat that dips just below the sex line. you know the one.
the one.
beat.
beat.
beat.
beat.
it's there.
listen.
chill.
hearit?
you need the white space staring back at you.
i can tell you that.
it's a given.
a must.
a must.
stop being so goddamned self-reflective.obsessed. can't you see the writing on the screen asshole? i know you can. it's coming from somewhere.
maybe the chair can help. as it comes alive at this very second.
and moves me downward.
how is it that chair decides that it's time to move around a little bit despite the fact that my physical body remains intact. how can that happen?
rich brisk beats.
ovaltine.
in the streets.
comfort.
not far.
danger
not big time danger
looking lookin looking
music is the answer
it is so simple
yes
all will be saved
all will be lost
nothing has been won
nothing has been lost
hate your real true champion of the deep.
i crave it.
i do know that i am officially here now.
i know that.
ok?
i am
iam
i fucking am
listen to those synthesized sounds@!
more running than a merger.
i have no idea what that means, which is a cliche, in itself.
what am i doing?
is this the new god?
god is not what you think.
did i stutter?
i know you must read it again.
go back.
i'll wait.
i've got this page and all.
punch it
how the fuck did this happen today?
today? yesterday. same difference.
as i sit here with my alcoholic beverage being empty in a shitty ass plastic cup from my former employer those assholes. well, that one asshole.
drink more fluids.
that's what they tell you. but that's sometimes bullshit.
just like i said before, everything is bullshit.
see?
cheese is not as good as people say it is.
tell the people the good news. tell them all. they all want to know the real story.
the fake story. some fucking story.
i wish i was in dixie hurray.
hurray.
i wish i was in dixie hurray
hurray.
today? yesterday. same difference.
as i sit here with my alcoholic beverage being empty in a shitty ass plastic cup from my former employer those assholes. well, that one asshole.
drink more fluids.
that's what they tell you. but that's sometimes bullshit.
just like i said before, everything is bullshit.
see?
cheese is not as good as people say it is.
tell the people the good news. tell them all. they all want to know the real story.
the fake story. some fucking story.
i wish i was in dixie hurray.
hurray.
i wish i was in dixie hurray
hurray.
Wednesday, January 15, 2003
techno is about the moment, the immediacy.
fuckin a, i'm really fucke.d
more than i thought.
christ almight, i need to find porn.
i need to find a direction.
i need to find kim jong ii.
at least kimdawrut knows what's up on that scene.
christ.
almight.
tee.
lovely lovely lady.
porn letters for you.
sphincter.
shoot.
fuckin a, i'm really fucke.d
more than i thought.
christ almight, i need to find porn.
i need to find a direction.
i need to find kim jong ii.
at least kimdawrut knows what's up on that scene.
christ.
almight.
tee.
lovely lovely lady.
porn letters for you.
sphincter.
shoot.
pussy.
that's what it's all about.
pussy.
lots of it.
fuck yeah.
yeah fuck.
oh fuck.
fuck fuck.
fuck me.
fuck you.
fuck me hard.
i wanna fuck you hard.
fuck me you fucker.
i want to fuck you now so bad.
fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
fuck.
dammit, man can't you remember a goddamn thing? can't you?
bitch?
snatch.
ana.
abraham was a wee little man.
actually that was zacheius.
he was short you know, or so the story goes.
ah religion.
it is pretty funny, isn't it?
hardee har har har.
and more.
secx.
excess.
grim feature.
that's what it's all about.
pussy.
lots of it.
fuck yeah.
yeah fuck.
oh fuck.
fuck fuck.
fuck me.
fuck you.
fuck me hard.
i wanna fuck you hard.
fuck me you fucker.
i want to fuck you now so bad.
fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
fuck.
dammit, man can't you remember a goddamn thing? can't you?
bitch?
snatch.
ana.
abraham was a wee little man.
actually that was zacheius.
he was short you know, or so the story goes.
ah religion.
it is pretty funny, isn't it?
hardee har har har.
and more.
secx.
excess.
grim feature.
Tuesday, January 14, 2003
actual email (barely edited) from myself to a friend i left behind in a land some men call michigan. here, we delve....
DEEP.
some names have been deleted to protect the guilty parties involved in these malicious hate crimes
hey [person of unknown origin, sex or creed],
nice to see you over the holiday.
hope everything is rolling smooth for you.
i am feeling fine in the 03.
what you think?
yep.
so i was just giving you a holler, to say, yo, i am still alive.
yessir.
and hey, maybe i'll send you a cd-r with some mp3 mixes and such....live mixes by me. just because.
exciting isn't it?
i can tell you are especially excited.
i use itunes.
will that work for you?
you have a burner.
yes.
today i took a break from the hard physical labor job i do to grab a latte and bagel and, whoops, didn't bother to bring my jacket, wearing only a t-shirt and jeans.
and it was ok.
ah, san francisco. warm in january. it's been like high 50s daytime, cool at night sometimes (30s even, though usually low 40s)....
fuck yeah.
there's definitely a certain sort of, um, well, chill down your bones or back,,,whatever, you know what i'm saying.
in michigan, there is a cold, chilling feeling one gets down their spine during harsh cold winter..but it's much drier in mich..
here in sf, during the winter it rains a lot more, usually just showers not big storms.....so it's a lot more moist, a bit damp at times...always at least a small breeze, though in downtown SF it can get pretty windy out of fucking nowhere.
you'll go past a big building and then, POW!, you're hit by gigantor wind blast of doom, spelling certain disaster to the follically challenged who have learned from past experience and wear hats when zooming about SF's financial district -- of which i currently work in -- and short skirt-wearing floozies/hotties/slipshod would-be businesswomen and their ilk (though i can't say as if i would be offended if i saw a woman pull a marilyn monroe on the steam tunnels), and in fact, it seems like i have caught a glimpse or two of various panties and nylons or nothing, swept up by the ever so mysterious wind tunnels of doom.
it's never dull... just a different sort of weather pattern. more consistent, i.e. a mediterranean climate, being on the ocean and all.
yeah.
so there, you got a brief and intriguing look at bay area weather patterns.
tune in next boxing day to hear more exciting non sequiter weather yarns, including san francisco micro climates, the joy of dense fog, and typhoon trivia.
paste your face on the medicine cabinet, press play and let your dreams become championship reality.
it's all in the cards. i can tell you that.
ok, bucker,
see you on the flip side.
my agenda this year looks like this:
miami - third week of march
detroit - memorial day
europe??? -- sometime between november 03 and feb 04. or if possible, that entire time.
i'm hoping to go at least a month.
i feel like it's something i have to do soon...i.e i really really want to go to europe.
somehow, someway or whey.
patch things up. i'm going there.
if all goes according to plan.
i am currently in the midst of a scheme.
ok.
back to whatever i was doing.....
always something.
say yo to your dog, whose name i cannot remember because i am a bit, shall we say, greased.
i'm down to scraps. my *friend* comes back wednesday.
tis all good, tho.
good day to you sir,
timmmmmmmiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii
crackers are good. crackers are the solution to world peace.
mark my words.
and please,
make no mistake.
DEEP.
some names have been deleted to protect the guilty parties involved in these malicious hate crimes
hey [person of unknown origin, sex or creed],
nice to see you over the holiday.
hope everything is rolling smooth for you.
i am feeling fine in the 03.
what you think?
yep.
so i was just giving you a holler, to say, yo, i am still alive.
yessir.
and hey, maybe i'll send you a cd-r with some mp3 mixes and such....live mixes by me. just because.
exciting isn't it?
i can tell you are especially excited.
i use itunes.
will that work for you?
you have a burner.
yes.
today i took a break from the hard physical labor job i do to grab a latte and bagel and, whoops, didn't bother to bring my jacket, wearing only a t-shirt and jeans.
and it was ok.
ah, san francisco. warm in january. it's been like high 50s daytime, cool at night sometimes (30s even, though usually low 40s)....
fuck yeah.
there's definitely a certain sort of, um, well, chill down your bones or back,,,whatever, you know what i'm saying.
in michigan, there is a cold, chilling feeling one gets down their spine during harsh cold winter..but it's much drier in mich..
here in sf, during the winter it rains a lot more, usually just showers not big storms.....so it's a lot more moist, a bit damp at times...always at least a small breeze, though in downtown SF it can get pretty windy out of fucking nowhere.
you'll go past a big building and then, POW!, you're hit by gigantor wind blast of doom, spelling certain disaster to the follically challenged who have learned from past experience and wear hats when zooming about SF's financial district -- of which i currently work in -- and short skirt-wearing floozies/hotties/slipshod would-be businesswomen and their ilk (though i can't say as if i would be offended if i saw a woman pull a marilyn monroe on the steam tunnels), and in fact, it seems like i have caught a glimpse or two of various panties and nylons or nothing, swept up by the ever so mysterious wind tunnels of doom.
it's never dull... just a different sort of weather pattern. more consistent, i.e. a mediterranean climate, being on the ocean and all.
yeah.
so there, you got a brief and intriguing look at bay area weather patterns.
tune in next boxing day to hear more exciting non sequiter weather yarns, including san francisco micro climates, the joy of dense fog, and typhoon trivia.
paste your face on the medicine cabinet, press play and let your dreams become championship reality.
it's all in the cards. i can tell you that.
ok, bucker,
see you on the flip side.
my agenda this year looks like this:
miami - third week of march
detroit - memorial day
europe??? -- sometime between november 03 and feb 04. or if possible, that entire time.
i'm hoping to go at least a month.
i feel like it's something i have to do soon...i.e i really really want to go to europe.
somehow, someway or whey.
patch things up. i'm going there.
if all goes according to plan.
i am currently in the midst of a scheme.
ok.
back to whatever i was doing.....
always something.
say yo to your dog, whose name i cannot remember because i am a bit, shall we say, greased.
i'm down to scraps. my *friend* comes back wednesday.
tis all good, tho.
good day to you sir,
timmmmmmmiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii
crackers are good. crackers are the solution to world peace.
mark my words.
and please,
make no mistake.
Monday, January 13, 2003
runteldat!
martin lawrence sucks.
karen finley is coming to berkeley. i should see her. she was banned. i like banned people.
i wish i could be banned.
i always go on here with the wish to make an important comment about something that could affect your very being but then i'm so dumb i forget by the time i get here.
bullshit.
it's all bullshit.
see!
where is mr. randy watson when we need him?
brush your face off. i'm standing her on the corner with yoko ono and she's screaming like a banshee.
how will i ever get out of this jam?
jam on it.
martin lawrence sucks.
karen finley is coming to berkeley. i should see her. she was banned. i like banned people.
i wish i could be banned.
i always go on here with the wish to make an important comment about something that could affect your very being but then i'm so dumb i forget by the time i get here.
bullshit.
it's all bullshit.
see!
where is mr. randy watson when we need him?
brush your face off. i'm standing her on the corner with yoko ono and she's screaming like a banshee.
how will i ever get out of this jam?
jam on it.
that is bullshit; hare krishna
yeah, what can you do.
you know you're in trouble when you're licking a bag.
like the kitty is licking one.
or smelling a flower.
in someone's ass.
more mary jane please.
today, the 49ers got stomped by tampa bay and the raiders beat the Jets.
joy.
can't you tell how joyful i am?
good heavens miss sakamoto, you're beautiful.
taster's choice is the best way to think about these things.
there is no more Happy.
he does not exist anymore.
we are happy.
that happy is gone.
it seems much emptier. the kitties are noticeably pleased, i.e. extremely curious about all this new open space they never were able to enjoy ever before.
yes it is true.
Happy is gone.
it is a happy day.
we didn't leave on a sour note, though we are glad to see him go.
frightful, he was...to live with.
just a slob.
slobberoo.
Ol' Happy doesn't even have a job in LA, where he's heading.
yep.
\
something in my armpit hurts.
my left armpit.
fucking bullshit, that's what that is.
bullshit.
i am stronger, faster and more spirited than your average template.
a year ago today i was working for aka euro rscg or was it mvbms partners?
i can never remember which.
feeling antisocial of late...at least...more so than usual.
need to take a step back, reassess shit.
you know?
damn.
you know.
Baal is watching. and he is waiting. for you.
don't be blue. wear a screw. your hair is new.
planet earth is blue and there's nothing i can do.
i should change my page now santa.
i should change my page.
i should do a lot of things.
piles of books i'm always "going to read."
piles of shit everywhere, shit i at some point deemed essential enough to stay.
but see, i never want to be immediate about my clean-up.
present tense tim doesn't want to deal with the hassle. present tense tim is all about the NOW, hence the name.
but see, future tim gets pissed at present tense tim because future tim isn't necessarily any more organized than present tense tim, or, in this particular reference, past tim.
but you see what i'm saying.
yes, indeed.
or there are the times like today, in which present tense tim helps out future tim, such as purchasing enough shoe strings to last this current situation (two shoes with fucked up laces for several weeks - yes, i am extremely lazy).
i'm good at it too.
hold on while i take another hit off this lazy-making pipe.
lit courageously and defiantly (fuck you femi-nazis...even though i kind of admire femi-nazis, until they're mean to me personally..then they suck).
fuck you america and your puny laws!
you can't stop me!
yet, i will sit for an hour obsessing about the cleanliness of said pipe(s) - glass, thank you... REAL pot conossieurs only smoke out of glass accessories.
they ARE the easiest to keep clean. plus, very handy this for the concert-going public, they don't set off metal detector machines.
not that that many clubs in SF actually have metal detectors,,,but in this time of extreme overprotection from potential terrorist attacks (usually the guys that live down the street with their big families, loud dogs, screaming kids and various temporary "guests" drinking beer till 4am on their front lawn), it's always good to be, uh, wise about how overt you are about your drug use.
which, took a bit of getting used to after moving to SF.
i mean, shit, living in midwest, you come to expect people to speak in very very hushed tones when speaking about illegal activity such as this.
i definitely remembered the difference between michigan and the bay area regarding permissiveness of open drug use when i sparked up a pipe stuffed with smuggled california green (because, as a pot snob, i cannot and will not smoke the skanky-ass twig-heavy "mexican" (i.e. homegrown) brick shit commonly available in the great lakes area) in the middle of the Planet E party in Detroit at the DEMF 02 with tamara p.
we argued with the guys who busted us for a good 10 minutes that we weren't leaving. luckily we had press passes so we just wandered next door over at richie hawtin's tactile/scary for fucked up tweakers party...totally drenched in darkness, with thick ass fog everywhere. you would randomly have your hand run into somebody's face, breast, shoulder, neck, etc.
couldn't be helped.
copping a feel wouldn't be as easy as some pervs might think. (see, i wouldnt' actually DO this, me not being a perv or anything...but thinking about what other dorks who in fact ARE pervs, and what they might do in a situation such as that), because.....your natural instinct is to put your hands out in front of you, to protect your face, your head, your brain, eyes, chest (heart) and shit like that you really need, yo.
so you're not doing a lot of random ass grabbing or cootchie scrumping, especially when, at a party such as richie hawtin's, you're more likely to run into a guy than a girl....guys usually out number women at virtually all social events that involve dancing, drinking alcohol, taking illegal(and legal) drugs, and such sundries.
song now playing: Seefeel's "Time to Find Me" (AFX - aphex twin - slow mix) old old old..
good good good.
minimal minimal minimal.
minimal is good.
so was manimal.
maybe not.
back to what i was saying.
which was.
smoke more, um, green plates.
oh joy of joys.
joy of cake.
hallelujah
hare krishna
durutti column is playing. i really don't know them that well. i probably should know them better than i do.
thing is, there are probably a lot of bands that i SHOULD know more shit about.
but who gives a shit at the end of the day.
it's not like i got a guy i gotta check in with each day before i go to bed, before i punch out for the day, who quizzes me on the latest music gossip, the latest musical genres springing forth, and the hot shit as it were.
i mean, i wish i did, because it would keep me sharp.
you know.
fuck satan.
speaking of...satan.
but first, i should finish my thought i was going to finish, the reason i opened this damn blog thingie back open (procrastinating YET AGAIN, story of my posse life isn't it? aol's steve case resigned today. see, i predicted it just a few days ago. i'm so fucking prescient, i rule the omniscient scene soon, what you think homes?).
the kitty is sleeping on my left arm. she tends to do that when i type.
could also have something to do with the fact i am smoking mary jane and she really enjoys being around when mary jane is around.
but THE kitty is rather large marge.
dammit.
and i need an additional beverage, because of my oral fixation (hey, i beat cigarettes. give me a fucking medal), as well as my addiction to mary jane (hey, you can't win 'em all bitch). make that psychological addiction to mary jane. there exists a difference.
it's true.
not that it matters. fuck you.
i am my own person.
i choose.
choose life.
choose a fucking big television.
see, this is what happens to your brain on plugs.
especially with the hat i'm wearing right now.
see, now that reminds me of my goddamn facial hair that i'm sporting right now.
which still isn't talking about what i planned on talking about...the damn porn lighters of tina's.
but now it's 12:20 am and the kitty is getting heavier on my left arm as i type and i still need that drink of liquid. fuck pig.
back,
fucking kitty is a constant licker of everything.
bullshit.
someday i'll get my shit together. as soon as i fuck myself up more.
good idea don't you think.
the kitty is licking my right hand now.
ok.
first, satan.
rosemary's baby, like so many films from that era (i call it the "olden times"), the scariness seemed forced and stilted, almost uncomfortable.
in fact, i often feel uncomfortable and jostled about conversation-wise when viewing old films. the dialogue just doesn't.....work....right.
seems, forced.
not real.
but even when people from olden times (like back in the 30s and before that)...are interviewed for real, people often come off as really stiff,,,more formal...though it was a new medium,,people weren't saturated like we are today.
we can't ever go back though.
something calming about Miles Davis. as i get older, i realize it takes a certain, specific sort of mindset to even sort of get miles.
and i don't pretend to KNOW miles. fuck that.
only miles knew miles.
but that's a whole other issue.
bitch.
so fuck satan too.
lame.
but funny in a kitschy, gloriously odd way.
mia farrow was odd. cute. strange. very wide-eyed intellectual sorta-hippie wannabe. at least she was then.
john cassavetes' character, her husband, who was obviously much older, i guess was supposed to be a cold and callous hollywood type but i wasn't buying it.
i liked him in that film "tempest" though with molly ringwald and gena something.
so yeah, the porn lighters.
tina's christmas craft.
i like this christmas craft.
a highlight of my holiday season this year, which, proved to me more than anything else, i can have an enjoyable holiday season as long as i concentrate on not trying too hard to do anything.
flying by the seat of my pants as it were, rocked this year, more for new year's than xmas...but it was interesting to NOT be at home on christmas day for the first time in my life.
a stupid turning point in a life, sure, but then again, i'm the only one that really has to give a shit.
and i do give a shit.
so fuck you.
fuck chew.
fu chew.
these pretzels are making me thirsty.
too bad i'm not eating pretzels.
ok this has to end.
i have to do my shit.
like, my jobby job shit.
damn right.
puto.
cake for some.
yeah, what can you do.
you know you're in trouble when you're licking a bag.
like the kitty is licking one.
or smelling a flower.
in someone's ass.
more mary jane please.
today, the 49ers got stomped by tampa bay and the raiders beat the Jets.
joy.
can't you tell how joyful i am?
good heavens miss sakamoto, you're beautiful.
taster's choice is the best way to think about these things.
there is no more Happy.
he does not exist anymore.
we are happy.
that happy is gone.
it seems much emptier. the kitties are noticeably pleased, i.e. extremely curious about all this new open space they never were able to enjoy ever before.
yes it is true.
Happy is gone.
it is a happy day.
we didn't leave on a sour note, though we are glad to see him go.
frightful, he was...to live with.
just a slob.
slobberoo.
Ol' Happy doesn't even have a job in LA, where he's heading.
yep.
\
something in my armpit hurts.
my left armpit.
fucking bullshit, that's what that is.
bullshit.
i am stronger, faster and more spirited than your average template.
a year ago today i was working for aka euro rscg or was it mvbms partners?
i can never remember which.
feeling antisocial of late...at least...more so than usual.
need to take a step back, reassess shit.
you know?
damn.
you know.
Baal is watching. and he is waiting. for you.
don't be blue. wear a screw. your hair is new.
planet earth is blue and there's nothing i can do.
i should change my page now santa.
i should change my page.
i should do a lot of things.
piles of books i'm always "going to read."
piles of shit everywhere, shit i at some point deemed essential enough to stay.
but see, i never want to be immediate about my clean-up.
present tense tim doesn't want to deal with the hassle. present tense tim is all about the NOW, hence the name.
but see, future tim gets pissed at present tense tim because future tim isn't necessarily any more organized than present tense tim, or, in this particular reference, past tim.
but you see what i'm saying.
yes, indeed.
or there are the times like today, in which present tense tim helps out future tim, such as purchasing enough shoe strings to last this current situation (two shoes with fucked up laces for several weeks - yes, i am extremely lazy).
i'm good at it too.
hold on while i take another hit off this lazy-making pipe.
lit courageously and defiantly (fuck you femi-nazis...even though i kind of admire femi-nazis, until they're mean to me personally..then they suck).
fuck you america and your puny laws!
you can't stop me!
yet, i will sit for an hour obsessing about the cleanliness of said pipe(s) - glass, thank you... REAL pot conossieurs only smoke out of glass accessories.
they ARE the easiest to keep clean. plus, very handy this for the concert-going public, they don't set off metal detector machines.
not that that many clubs in SF actually have metal detectors,,,but in this time of extreme overprotection from potential terrorist attacks (usually the guys that live down the street with their big families, loud dogs, screaming kids and various temporary "guests" drinking beer till 4am on their front lawn), it's always good to be, uh, wise about how overt you are about your drug use.
which, took a bit of getting used to after moving to SF.
i mean, shit, living in midwest, you come to expect people to speak in very very hushed tones when speaking about illegal activity such as this.
i definitely remembered the difference between michigan and the bay area regarding permissiveness of open drug use when i sparked up a pipe stuffed with smuggled california green (because, as a pot snob, i cannot and will not smoke the skanky-ass twig-heavy "mexican" (i.e. homegrown) brick shit commonly available in the great lakes area) in the middle of the Planet E party in Detroit at the DEMF 02 with tamara p.
we argued with the guys who busted us for a good 10 minutes that we weren't leaving. luckily we had press passes so we just wandered next door over at richie hawtin's tactile/scary for fucked up tweakers party...totally drenched in darkness, with thick ass fog everywhere. you would randomly have your hand run into somebody's face, breast, shoulder, neck, etc.
couldn't be helped.
copping a feel wouldn't be as easy as some pervs might think. (see, i wouldnt' actually DO this, me not being a perv or anything...but thinking about what other dorks who in fact ARE pervs, and what they might do in a situation such as that), because.....your natural instinct is to put your hands out in front of you, to protect your face, your head, your brain, eyes, chest (heart) and shit like that you really need, yo.
so you're not doing a lot of random ass grabbing or cootchie scrumping, especially when, at a party such as richie hawtin's, you're more likely to run into a guy than a girl....guys usually out number women at virtually all social events that involve dancing, drinking alcohol, taking illegal(and legal) drugs, and such sundries.
song now playing: Seefeel's "Time to Find Me" (AFX - aphex twin - slow mix) old old old..
good good good.
minimal minimal minimal.
minimal is good.
so was manimal.
maybe not.
back to what i was saying.
which was.
smoke more, um, green plates.
oh joy of joys.
joy of cake.
hallelujah
hare krishna
durutti column is playing. i really don't know them that well. i probably should know them better than i do.
thing is, there are probably a lot of bands that i SHOULD know more shit about.
but who gives a shit at the end of the day.
it's not like i got a guy i gotta check in with each day before i go to bed, before i punch out for the day, who quizzes me on the latest music gossip, the latest musical genres springing forth, and the hot shit as it were.
i mean, i wish i did, because it would keep me sharp.
you know.
fuck satan.
speaking of...satan.
but first, i should finish my thought i was going to finish, the reason i opened this damn blog thingie back open (procrastinating YET AGAIN, story of my posse life isn't it? aol's steve case resigned today. see, i predicted it just a few days ago. i'm so fucking prescient, i rule the omniscient scene soon, what you think homes?).
the kitty is sleeping on my left arm. she tends to do that when i type.
could also have something to do with the fact i am smoking mary jane and she really enjoys being around when mary jane is around.
but THE kitty is rather large marge.
dammit.
and i need an additional beverage, because of my oral fixation (hey, i beat cigarettes. give me a fucking medal), as well as my addiction to mary jane (hey, you can't win 'em all bitch). make that psychological addiction to mary jane. there exists a difference.
it's true.
not that it matters. fuck you.
i am my own person.
i choose.
choose life.
choose a fucking big television.
see, this is what happens to your brain on plugs.
especially with the hat i'm wearing right now.
see, now that reminds me of my goddamn facial hair that i'm sporting right now.
which still isn't talking about what i planned on talking about...the damn porn lighters of tina's.
but now it's 12:20 am and the kitty is getting heavier on my left arm as i type and i still need that drink of liquid. fuck pig.
back,
fucking kitty is a constant licker of everything.
bullshit.
someday i'll get my shit together. as soon as i fuck myself up more.
good idea don't you think.
the kitty is licking my right hand now.
ok.
first, satan.
rosemary's baby, like so many films from that era (i call it the "olden times"), the scariness seemed forced and stilted, almost uncomfortable.
in fact, i often feel uncomfortable and jostled about conversation-wise when viewing old films. the dialogue just doesn't.....work....right.
seems, forced.
not real.
but even when people from olden times (like back in the 30s and before that)...are interviewed for real, people often come off as really stiff,,,more formal...though it was a new medium,,people weren't saturated like we are today.
we can't ever go back though.
something calming about Miles Davis. as i get older, i realize it takes a certain, specific sort of mindset to even sort of get miles.
and i don't pretend to KNOW miles. fuck that.
only miles knew miles.
but that's a whole other issue.
bitch.
so fuck satan too.
lame.
but funny in a kitschy, gloriously odd way.
mia farrow was odd. cute. strange. very wide-eyed intellectual sorta-hippie wannabe. at least she was then.
john cassavetes' character, her husband, who was obviously much older, i guess was supposed to be a cold and callous hollywood type but i wasn't buying it.
i liked him in that film "tempest" though with molly ringwald and gena something.
so yeah, the porn lighters.
tina's christmas craft.
i like this christmas craft.
a highlight of my holiday season this year, which, proved to me more than anything else, i can have an enjoyable holiday season as long as i concentrate on not trying too hard to do anything.
flying by the seat of my pants as it were, rocked this year, more for new year's than xmas...but it was interesting to NOT be at home on christmas day for the first time in my life.
a stupid turning point in a life, sure, but then again, i'm the only one that really has to give a shit.
and i do give a shit.
so fuck you.
fuck chew.
fu chew.
these pretzels are making me thirsty.
too bad i'm not eating pretzels.
ok this has to end.
i have to do my shit.
like, my jobby job shit.
damn right.
puto.
cake for some.
Friday, January 10, 2003
man i got denied before i was able to get to the starting gates.
dammit.
of course, i fell asleep pretty quickly.
my nascent facial hair itches. that is total bullshit.
i think i'm going back to macworld for one more go-round.
it was fun.
safari, mac's new web browser, is nice....i'm even more excited about itunes 3, idvd, iphoto updates and that new software, Keynote, which i'll have to get. it's a souped up version of powerpoint, for macs.
the new laptops are kinda pointless.
it's a very surreal atmosphere. i have to go back.
rock and rolla.
i was noting earlier today that every single damn day i emerge from the BART tunnel, i never seem to hit it when i have the walk sign. every day.
sucks.
i cry about it often.
one day, it will happen.
sutter station is a winner. even if it is a bit shady. a fine tavern.
and you keep your pants off.
dammit.
of course, i fell asleep pretty quickly.
my nascent facial hair itches. that is total bullshit.
i think i'm going back to macworld for one more go-round.
it was fun.
safari, mac's new web browser, is nice....i'm even more excited about itunes 3, idvd, iphoto updates and that new software, Keynote, which i'll have to get. it's a souped up version of powerpoint, for macs.
the new laptops are kinda pointless.
it's a very surreal atmosphere. i have to go back.
rock and rolla.
i was noting earlier today that every single damn day i emerge from the BART tunnel, i never seem to hit it when i have the walk sign. every day.
sucks.
i cry about it often.
one day, it will happen.
sutter station is a winner. even if it is a bit shady. a fine tavern.
and you keep your pants off.
Thursday, January 09, 2003
all i wanted to do was steal the goddamn mouse pad from microsoft.
i wanted to do one bad deed.
even now, as i sink ever so slowly like quicksand (a childhood fright that has since disicpated).
boards of canada, lush.
korry keeker
melissa as always
the weird bar.
west oakland.
BOC.
i so hate it when i receive super large emails.
at present i have in my inbox of yahoo...
my idiot roommate is leaving.
the oaf is leaving.
now i can emote.
now i can reveal the secrets. that must be revealed.
and they must.
the 40-year old happy hardcore dj moving to LA to find a better life.
and he shall.
people say i'm too hard on the lad. i say fuck those people.
so i'm harsh.
somebody has to be dammit.
there has to be more.
doesn't there?
there has to be more.
beyond this fetid land.
this finite area we live in.
yet the question remains...why is man the chose leader?
how did it come to this?
why does it mean anything?
nothing.
what is the point?
if there is a hell.
i'll see you there.
appropriate that nine inch nails' "heresy" is playing at the moment.
your god is dead. and no one cares.
if there is a hell.
i'll see you there.
your god is dead.
and no one cares.
if there is a hell.
i'll see you there.
this is so 1994-1995.
brings back the memories of yesteryear.
scary to think that they are, in fact, officially yesteryear, doesn't it?
scary yes.
i'm not dead though.
the kitty is here too. she lives for others.
god is dead.
and no one cares.
if there is a hell.
i'll see you there.
(i love the fuzz).
fuzz.
trent does like the treble.
chastise me all you want, i can make you kill angel fires.
as much as i criticize indie kids, i am one in many ways.
but i believe in something more.
see, it's amazing how quickly you can become shortsighted and believe the rest of the countyr believes the same way as the bay area does.
but that's not true.
my the kitty is baked right now.
it looks like that.
i'm listening to bright eyes right now.
aren't i indie?
aren't i?
aren't I?
fuck you and your horseshoe bullshit.
fuck that girl and her high handed bullshit.
that was a coool bar i went to this evening with korry keeker and melissa lane.
korry keeker, k2, triple k, not his real name.
forgot his actual last name.
moved here from bellingham washington.
dammit fuck shoehorn bitch ass mother fucker.
realize you will never see the guy who shined your shoe in detroit metropolitan airport on dec. 23, 2002, ever again.
unless i figure out the whole time portal thing,.
which is something i've been obsessed with virtually my whole life or since i was dead.
anal.
chut up.
donnie darko.
i knew i had a feeling about that movie.
i need to follow my instincts more.
a lot more.
i need to make it happen this year.
this IS the year.
this is it.
i know it.
i just do.
this is the year.
this is the year.
an_l.
_i_l_t.
shove that maker in my mace.
poon.
farmer.
moon.
harmer.
miles davis is playing now.
something funny and odd about macworld expo 2003. i love that it's 2003.
i do.
it's cool.
i am cool for living right now.
i will be envied in years to come.
even if i die before i'm supposed to.
i can always work that time paradox thing and do some shit.
that will be cool.
i can't wait to hang tight with grandma death.
you are not grandma death.
i am carpoccio.
right now i am carpoccio it would seem.
thanks to ms. tina b.
who's getting on the cross for her birthday.
that will be something.
i'm sooo excited about it, which is doubly cool.
i like that i'm not upset or jealous or anything remotely enfant terrible and shit.
put that armor in your duct-taped suitcase bitch ass bitch.
pussy cunt.
open sex talk is so much more fun, more appealing, more real, more heal.
fuck tonight.
that is the plan.fuck tonight.
that is the plan.
fuck tonight.
fuck tonight.
no beat measures needed for this night.
intercourse is the plan.
intercourse is the way.
intercourse is the firm desire of the overwhelming majority of people now present in this head.
drinking cheap $6.99 mixed white wine from trader joe's helps, as well as a slight fantasy about eating chickens goats and hamhocks with mickey mouse and julius erving.
i just now pulled a nasty-ass rubber band out of The Kitty's mouth.
that is fucking disgusting.
now i have cat esophagus juice on my right knuckle.
that is fucking bullshit.
fuck you.
i wanted to do one bad deed.
even now, as i sink ever so slowly like quicksand (a childhood fright that has since disicpated).
boards of canada, lush.
korry keeker
melissa as always
the weird bar.
west oakland.
BOC.
i so hate it when i receive super large emails.
at present i have in my inbox of yahoo...
my idiot roommate is leaving.
the oaf is leaving.
now i can emote.
now i can reveal the secrets. that must be revealed.
and they must.
the 40-year old happy hardcore dj moving to LA to find a better life.
and he shall.
people say i'm too hard on the lad. i say fuck those people.
so i'm harsh.
somebody has to be dammit.
there has to be more.
doesn't there?
there has to be more.
beyond this fetid land.
this finite area we live in.
yet the question remains...why is man the chose leader?
how did it come to this?
why does it mean anything?
nothing.
what is the point?
if there is a hell.
i'll see you there.
appropriate that nine inch nails' "heresy" is playing at the moment.
your god is dead. and no one cares.
if there is a hell.
i'll see you there.
your god is dead.
and no one cares.
if there is a hell.
i'll see you there.
this is so 1994-1995.
brings back the memories of yesteryear.
scary to think that they are, in fact, officially yesteryear, doesn't it?
scary yes.
i'm not dead though.
the kitty is here too. she lives for others.
god is dead.
and no one cares.
if there is a hell.
i'll see you there.
(i love the fuzz).
fuzz.
trent does like the treble.
chastise me all you want, i can make you kill angel fires.
as much as i criticize indie kids, i am one in many ways.
but i believe in something more.
see, it's amazing how quickly you can become shortsighted and believe the rest of the countyr believes the same way as the bay area does.
but that's not true.
my the kitty is baked right now.
it looks like that.
i'm listening to bright eyes right now.
aren't i indie?
aren't i?
aren't I?
fuck you and your horseshoe bullshit.
fuck that girl and her high handed bullshit.
that was a coool bar i went to this evening with korry keeker and melissa lane.
korry keeker, k2, triple k, not his real name.
forgot his actual last name.
moved here from bellingham washington.
dammit fuck shoehorn bitch ass mother fucker.
realize you will never see the guy who shined your shoe in detroit metropolitan airport on dec. 23, 2002, ever again.
unless i figure out the whole time portal thing,.
which is something i've been obsessed with virtually my whole life or since i was dead.
anal.
chut up.
donnie darko.
i knew i had a feeling about that movie.
i need to follow my instincts more.
a lot more.
i need to make it happen this year.
this IS the year.
this is it.
i know it.
i just do.
this is the year.
this is the year.
an_l.
_i_l_t.
shove that maker in my mace.
poon.
farmer.
moon.
harmer.
miles davis is playing now.
something funny and odd about macworld expo 2003. i love that it's 2003.
i do.
it's cool.
i am cool for living right now.
i will be envied in years to come.
even if i die before i'm supposed to.
i can always work that time paradox thing and do some shit.
that will be cool.
i can't wait to hang tight with grandma death.
you are not grandma death.
i am carpoccio.
right now i am carpoccio it would seem.
thanks to ms. tina b.
who's getting on the cross for her birthday.
that will be something.
i'm sooo excited about it, which is doubly cool.
i like that i'm not upset or jealous or anything remotely enfant terrible and shit.
put that armor in your duct-taped suitcase bitch ass bitch.
pussy cunt.
open sex talk is so much more fun, more appealing, more real, more heal.
fuck tonight.
that is the plan.fuck tonight.
that is the plan.
fuck tonight.
fuck tonight.
no beat measures needed for this night.
intercourse is the plan.
intercourse is the way.
intercourse is the firm desire of the overwhelming majority of people now present in this head.
drinking cheap $6.99 mixed white wine from trader joe's helps, as well as a slight fantasy about eating chickens goats and hamhocks with mickey mouse and julius erving.
i just now pulled a nasty-ass rubber band out of The Kitty's mouth.
that is fucking disgusting.
now i have cat esophagus juice on my right knuckle.
that is fucking bullshit.
fuck you.
the next mix cd has to be the emotional one, followed by the burning man one.
this song by blue states "what we have won" (really the only good song on "man mountain") just hits me square in the chest. especially when i'm wearing pants.
no really, it fits the description of songs that hit me emotionally.
a nerve, if you will.
james hardway's "can't show love" is giving me strength of late, as well.
this album, damn, has had staying power with me.
why?
hmmm.
so strange.
i just got reprimanded by my cubicle neighbor to stop tapping my foot.
hmmm.
so my idea is this - write a book that incorporates music.
to be played at specific points in the book.
getting the rights to that would be hard though.
i could just tell people to do it.
this song by blue states "what we have won" (really the only good song on "man mountain") just hits me square in the chest. especially when i'm wearing pants.
no really, it fits the description of songs that hit me emotionally.
a nerve, if you will.
james hardway's "can't show love" is giving me strength of late, as well.
this album, damn, has had staying power with me.
why?
hmmm.
so strange.
i just got reprimanded by my cubicle neighbor to stop tapping my foot.
hmmm.
so my idea is this - write a book that incorporates music.
to be played at specific points in the book.
getting the rights to that would be hard though.
i could just tell people to do it.
pop up ads are the bane of my existence. i fucking hate that gator shit. i just mistakenly clicked on something for fucking gator.
dammit.
people in america are truly blind
this iraq thing is preposterous. and that's a good word to say a lot out loud with a lisper.
i just don't see how this is so important.
so fucking dumb. i wanted to say something else, but of course, as always, i forgot.
shit.
me and yoko ono...that dumb song on the new tosca. it's like that song "honey" on their last one. couldn't avoid it if you tried, especially when they release an entire cd consisting only of remixes of that track, 16 different ones, as i recall.
donnie darko.
bp for me.
oh, i know what i was going to say, watching the news last night, seeing the photos of these random arabic men, looking all ragtag, barely alive, almost as if they're being propped up by a small stick.
we're creating this racism. it's so weird...it's like nobody is asking any questions, nobody is saying "hey, what the fuck is going on here??" it's getting scary.
nothing is secret or sacred. not like that's a big surprise but still.
ok donnie darko, then that folder, then, programming, to meet billy sirr .
padget.
luminous.
shoovoo
longer letter later.!
dammit.
people in america are truly blind
this iraq thing is preposterous. and that's a good word to say a lot out loud with a lisper.
i just don't see how this is so important.
so fucking dumb. i wanted to say something else, but of course, as always, i forgot.
shit.
me and yoko ono...that dumb song on the new tosca. it's like that song "honey" on their last one. couldn't avoid it if you tried, especially when they release an entire cd consisting only of remixes of that track, 16 different ones, as i recall.
donnie darko.
bp for me.
oh, i know what i was going to say, watching the news last night, seeing the photos of these random arabic men, looking all ragtag, barely alive, almost as if they're being propped up by a small stick.
we're creating this racism. it's so weird...it's like nobody is asking any questions, nobody is saying "hey, what the fuck is going on here??" it's getting scary.
nothing is secret or sacred. not like that's a big surprise but still.
ok donnie darko, then that folder, then, programming, to meet billy sirr .
padget.
luminous.
shoovoo
longer letter later.!
what was up the that confederate guy walking down the montgomery a few minutes ago?
i think he was confederate.
gray, that's confederates, right? he looked mean too, and he had a big chain around his neck. shit man.
when you walk downtown, you do the scan. the super quick sizing up of one another. split second, yesh. for sure. but you have to always be on your toes.
i notice that when i wear my detroit jacket, i catch more people's eyes. not surprising considering it's like bright orange stripe down the left side of my chest, alternated with white on a black denim jacket.
in downtown SF, people walk fairly fast (definitely not breakneck NYC pace).
but faster than your average San Francisco lolly gagger.
stompede - that's a fine new word.
i must tell you.
oh yeah, donnie darko.
that movie was soooo fucked up.
damman.
i need to find out more about that fine feature film.
i think he was confederate.
gray, that's confederates, right? he looked mean too, and he had a big chain around his neck. shit man.
when you walk downtown, you do the scan. the super quick sizing up of one another. split second, yesh. for sure. but you have to always be on your toes.
i notice that when i wear my detroit jacket, i catch more people's eyes. not surprising considering it's like bright orange stripe down the left side of my chest, alternated with white on a black denim jacket.
in downtown SF, people walk fairly fast (definitely not breakneck NYC pace).
but faster than your average San Francisco lolly gagger.
stompede - that's a fine new word.
i must tell you.
oh yeah, donnie darko.
that movie was soooo fucked up.
damman.
i need to find out more about that fine feature film.
Wednesday, January 08, 2003
i swear, i included my top picks in music so far in the year sometime in 2002 but i can't fucking find them.
dammit to hell and then some.
here's my final top 10 of the year, from my votes in the village voice pazz & jop poll.
1. Cinematic Orchestra - Every Day - Ninja Tune (15 points)
2. Streets - Original Pirate Material - Vice (15 points)
3. Boards Of Canada - Geogaddi - Warp (11 points)
4. Flaming Lips - Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots - Warner Bros. (10 points)
5. Royksopp - Melody A.M. - Astralwerks (10 points)
6. Jazzanova - In Between - JCR (10 points)
7. Koop - Waltz For Koop - JCR (9 points)
8. James Hardway - Straight From The Fridge - Hydrogen Dukebox (8 points)
9. Roots - Phrenology - MCA (6 points)
10. Metro Area - Metro Area - Environ (6 points)
Your Pazz & Jop singles ballot was submitted as follows:
1. Shaun Escoffrey - "Days Like This" - Sony
2. Osunlade presents Erro - "Change For Me"
3. Streets - "Weak Become Heroes" - Vice
4. X-Press 2 - "Lazy" - Columbia
5. Koop - "Summer Sun" - JCR
6. Missy Elliott - "Work It" - Elektra
7. DJ Shadow - "Six Days" - MCA
8. Ladytron - "Seventeen" - Emporer Norton
9. Goldenboy w/ Miss Kittin - "Rippin Kitten" - Emporer Norton
10. Dirty Vegas - "Days Go By" - Capitol
today, i stopped traffic. people should stop for me more.
that's what i think.
my bobblehead is no longer as good as yours.
don't you like my meter?
also, regarding that dirty vegas pick.
sure, i know it was used in a fucking commercial, but i still think it's a good song. i don't think the album is good (if it was, maybe it would have made my top 10 album chart).
also, the pick of the Roots is based on just a couple of listens to my girlfriend's copy.
but it's good.
damn.
i could right away how eclectic (a fave word of music critics, right up there with "aural" "recalcitrent" and "enfant terrible").
yeah, at least i am alive and feeling free.
freedom
freedom.
and i mean the george michael song, not the paul mccartney song.
don't you know anything?
paper
dammit to hell and then some.
here's my final top 10 of the year, from my votes in the village voice pazz & jop poll.
1. Cinematic Orchestra - Every Day - Ninja Tune (15 points)
2. Streets - Original Pirate Material - Vice (15 points)
3. Boards Of Canada - Geogaddi - Warp (11 points)
4. Flaming Lips - Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots - Warner Bros. (10 points)
5. Royksopp - Melody A.M. - Astralwerks (10 points)
6. Jazzanova - In Between - JCR (10 points)
7. Koop - Waltz For Koop - JCR (9 points)
8. James Hardway - Straight From The Fridge - Hydrogen Dukebox (8 points)
9. Roots - Phrenology - MCA (6 points)
10. Metro Area - Metro Area - Environ (6 points)
Your Pazz & Jop singles ballot was submitted as follows:
1. Shaun Escoffrey - "Days Like This" - Sony
2. Osunlade presents Erro - "Change For Me"
3. Streets - "Weak Become Heroes" - Vice
4. X-Press 2 - "Lazy" - Columbia
5. Koop - "Summer Sun" - JCR
6. Missy Elliott - "Work It" - Elektra
7. DJ Shadow - "Six Days" - MCA
8. Ladytron - "Seventeen" - Emporer Norton
9. Goldenboy w/ Miss Kittin - "Rippin Kitten" - Emporer Norton
10. Dirty Vegas - "Days Go By" - Capitol
today, i stopped traffic. people should stop for me more.
that's what i think.
my bobblehead is no longer as good as yours.
don't you like my meter?
also, regarding that dirty vegas pick.
sure, i know it was used in a fucking commercial, but i still think it's a good song. i don't think the album is good (if it was, maybe it would have made my top 10 album chart).
also, the pick of the Roots is based on just a couple of listens to my girlfriend's copy.
but it's good.
damn.
i could right away how eclectic (a fave word of music critics, right up there with "aural" "recalcitrent" and "enfant terrible").
yeah, at least i am alive and feeling free.
freedom
freedom.
and i mean the george michael song, not the paul mccartney song.
don't you know anything?
paper
Monday, January 06, 2003
stuff taken for one evening by unknown soldier of partydom A.D. (courtesy timelife books):
marijuana (smoked and eaten, via chocolate chip cookie)
cocaine (snorted)
ketamine (snorted)
alcohol (drank, including champagne, vodka, beer and wine)
ecstasy (3 pills, taken intermittently throughout the evening - last one, split and taken half at a time)
good work soldier.
love,
america
marijuana (smoked and eaten, via chocolate chip cookie)
cocaine (snorted)
ketamine (snorted)
alcohol (drank, including champagne, vodka, beer and wine)
ecstasy (3 pills, taken intermittently throughout the evening - last one, split and taken half at a time)
good work soldier.
love,
america
did you ever meet kunta kinte?
if you did you would likely be happy.
even though he didn't like you.
you would still be happy.
so this is what i say to you: you are a glop.
a glop of goop so glip you'll likely want to glean a glimpse of gloppity gloop before taking some time to recover from the glandular glone.
gland be with you.
glunk
if you did you would likely be happy.
even though he didn't like you.
you would still be happy.
so this is what i say to you: you are a glop.
a glop of goop so glip you'll likely want to glean a glimpse of gloppity gloop before taking some time to recover from the glandular glone.
gland be with you.
glunk
Friday, January 03, 2003
why do i have a christina aguilera song in my head?
that song "beautiful" is actually pretty good.
it sounds like a ballad that could have come out 10 years ago, one of those timeless heartrendering things that just never go out of style.
i tell you what.
today's listening strategy:
i started off the day with dr. dre/2pac's "california love," an amazing track that still rocks.
yes yes.
now, i'm listening to the oddball sounds of Flanger's "outer space/inner space"
weird electronic jazz thing.
yeah.
i have coffee.
i'm wearing a shirt.
burgundy.
my dad's old bowling shirt actually.
people love it.
simply everyone in the entire world loves it.
love me for my shirt.
i am beautiful. and gag me with a spoon too.
wouldn't that be fun? to get gagged with a spoon?
maybe not.
i don't know.
space and time.
time and space.
let my people go.
look at me, i'm sandra dee.
ok, remember to give to the united fey.
your friend,
banko
who knows nothing.
that song "beautiful" is actually pretty good.
it sounds like a ballad that could have come out 10 years ago, one of those timeless heartrendering things that just never go out of style.
i tell you what.
today's listening strategy:
i started off the day with dr. dre/2pac's "california love," an amazing track that still rocks.
yes yes.
now, i'm listening to the oddball sounds of Flanger's "outer space/inner space"
weird electronic jazz thing.
yeah.
i have coffee.
i'm wearing a shirt.
burgundy.
my dad's old bowling shirt actually.
people love it.
simply everyone in the entire world loves it.
love me for my shirt.
i am beautiful. and gag me with a spoon too.
wouldn't that be fun? to get gagged with a spoon?
maybe not.
i don't know.
space and time.
time and space.
let my people go.
look at me, i'm sandra dee.
ok, remember to give to the united fey.
your friend,
banko
who knows nothing.
Thursday, January 02, 2003
how can this be.
what to say.
new years was amazing.
i had such low hopes.
and yet it soared so high.
the whole damn thing.
once again, my theory proves to be correct (not necessarily a common thing, mind you).
flying on the seat of your pants, following your instinct, don't plan....whatever the fuck it is,...it works for me.
so much fun.
yeah.
fuck yeah.
what can you do.
what can anyone do.
fuck.
fucking a
what to say.
new years was amazing.
i had such low hopes.
and yet it soared so high.
the whole damn thing.
once again, my theory proves to be correct (not necessarily a common thing, mind you).
flying on the seat of your pants, following your instinct, don't plan....whatever the fuck it is,...it works for me.
so much fun.
yeah.
fuck yeah.
what can you do.
what can anyone do.
fuck.
fucking a
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