Wednesday, October 29, 2003

cracklin' rosie

i am so weird at work.
as in, i'm a more reserved tim pratt.
i mean, i'm still me, in the me sense.
don't you love the me sense?
i do.
anyway (one of my favorite and helpful words for my wandering mind - because i'm the king of tangents, of attempting to constantly overcram all the shit i can in my skull each day)....and no, i'm not a fan of "anywhoo."
with the extended "ooh" sound especially.
that's bullshit man.
bullshit i say.

i so want to be super over the top in real life.
like when i was walking down 16th today

i am so in my self-created bubble, my tim pratt think tank, to ruminate on the the tim pratt everyone else sees. helps me keep my sanity to go into deep tim pratt-ville.
keeps me sane yo.
and god knows, the world needs me sane.
because insane, well sir, there'd be trouble.
but enough about twinkies.

dolly madison was pretty damn cool.
for a bonnet-wearing person.
james madison was her kick-ass husband, whom i seem to remember was a pretty rocking president.

i think george w. bush, our fake-ass chump for a fake president, has to be one of our worst.
worst than william henry harrison.
worst than gerald ford, who was never elected.

i like zachary taylor purely because he has a cool name?

remember the zero factor?
you know, george bush could pull a makaveli (because i can't spell the old school way and i'm too damn lazy to look up the correct one) and have us vote for his pseudo-dead ass because we all feel bad, and then he turns out to be ok.

like the day after the election, he emerges totally via the strength of knowing a solid 51% of the electorate are behind him (of course, rigged by those touch screens that are heavily funded by GOP monsters - but that's for another day, another struggle in this thing we call life man, fucking a.)

caller go ahead.

my girlfriend is a heroin pig.

not MY girlfriend, as in, tim pratt's girlfriend.

i've lapsed once again into creative laziness, biting quotes from bruce mccolluch's "heroin pig" track.
he is so awesome.
i totally did not appreciate kids in the hall while it was popular.
it required me to be older, wiser and more a man of the world, a man of the people, for me to appreciate the fine nuanced (another fave word of late) world of kids in the hall.
i should have said humor but fuck it. i go with spontaniety every time.

except for sometimes.

you know, in the last sentence, i almost typed "accept" (as in that great german band from the 80s, with that fine hit "balls to the wall" man! fronted by the dimunitive - another fave word from circa-80s circus and hit parader magazines, which i read religiously - puto) by accident.

that would have sucked.
i hate it when people use the wrong word, or at least, the wrong spelling.
i abhor misspellings, unless it's me being lazy (i'm very good at that, despite the fact that i'm insanely busy all the fucking time..i wish i didn't have to sleep, though i do like to sleep - ah the limitations -- and lamentations for you bible listeners -- of being human).

like earlier today, when i was hanging with my good pal that helps me out with specific needs that i have occasionally.
she has this art piece up in her bathroom, where i was hanging out for awhile just because i like to hang out in the bathroom to really think about buttcakes, words like bilious and cheerios, which i still like as long as they have a light sprinkling of cane sugar, but only on the first bowl. she has this piece that references "capitolism"....but see, anybody that gets really fucking annoyed/pissed off/enraged/outraged/somewhat raged about misspellings or wrong usage in a sentence, would know that it should be spelled "capitalism."
i mean come on, especially here in san francisco, where there are a lot of people who are against capitalism, especially socialists, marxists, nazis, neonazis, neocons, neo soul fans, and nepotism fans of freddie prinze jr..

i interrupt my totally coherent thoughts to relay to you that currently, i'm hearing car tires squealing pretty regularly every 20 seconds or so for the last 3 minutes.
quite odd.

frank the black haired kitty is currently laying in my lap. he has a fine tail.
i must say.
some kitties don't have fine tails, only somewhat good tails but this kitty towers above other kitties, i must say.

and i do say, obviously.

i say obviously a lot, in my writing at least.
don't you love how self-analytical i am?

i'm like two people, one to watch and record what i do, and then the one that just does.
i do.

this kitty frank has been discriminated against because of the color of his fur.
some people (like say, oh..our idiotic attorney general, one john asscroft - misspelling completely intentional for you non believers and christians of all creeds) really freak out about black cats.
which is weird.
i mean, witches like 'em. and fuck, witches are usually pretty cool, even if they have poor eating habits, bad hygiene, and a subpar wardrobe selection (i mean, come on...ditch those cheap-ass pointy hats already...go for something in plaid or mauve).

one witch requirement is to have a mole of some sort on your face, particularly the nose and/or chin.
for optimum evilness.

see, cuz god is punishing witches because they're like evildoers and stuff, so they automatically become ugly once they start flying around on their brooms.

fuck..i need a beverage.
more in a few.

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