Monday, May 10, 2004
i'm feeling the love.
i shit you not, motherfuckers.
i am FEELING the music thing, brethren of some.
and i say that, without an exclamation point.
i am feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeling it.
see what i'm saying to you?
can you tell i'm considerably not sane?
of course, i am lying.
or am i.
ok, coming clean..
i've been making this mix of late, and it's starting to consume me.
therefore, i, present day observer part tim pratt, am starting to realize that "hey, kick fucking ass! someone's getting inspired!" or something like that. heart of stone, so not and yet, so yes.
i am i.
as he is he.
as you are we.
and we are all together.
i steal everything.
or then again, no.
my stereo was stolen from me last night.
i am fucking certain the fucking cretin lives near me.
i can feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel it.
feeeeeeeeeeeeeeels like summer.
the joy of sing-sing by sing-sing
they fucking rule.
back to the further matter at hand because of grandma chicken bitch ass cunt dragger of minions.
some mother fucker stole my mother fucking stereo from my mother fucking car mother fucking last mother fucking night and i'm really mother fucking pissed about the mother fucking thing. ok?
mother fuck you and your punk ass ghetto bird.
bitch ass shit.
punk ass mother fucker.
it's all a lie.
i remained surprisingly calm when i was informed this morning by ms. tina b that said stereo, said mother fucking alpine car stereo that i mother fucking just mother fucking purchased a mother fucking month ago (btw, happy mother's day to one and all, mother fucking no.).
so yeah, my stereo was mother fucking stolen, mother fucking last night. dammit.
still the hassle.
bitch ass shitta.
you tell me something nice now.
i'll wait for your approval. fucking rapper ass bitch.
see, doesn't everything, just fucking EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS TO US FOR NO GODFORSAKEN REASON AT ALL, just drive you crazy from time to time?
i mean, come on.
palm springs was wierd last weekend, when we went to coachella.
we stayed in rancho relaxo.
and goddamn, i don't have to tell you, that that was, shit, so damned, i tell ya, aptly titled.
remember when you saw motley crue play at joe louis arena on the 'dr. feelgood' tour with your love of your life (at the time) karen, and you realized then, in 1989 or so, that you had outgrown the whole hair metal shite, when you fucking knew that in the back of your mind, it was all really lame and you just didn't know any better?
coachella was great.
i liked it a lot.
good bands. fun.
lame, that was, just now, what i said.
am i too self-observant?
or am i know going competely overboard with the self-analysis bullshite?
i love to spell 'shit' shite.
i have Uk envy.
but more on that later.
how about that fat dude, vito, on sopranos, being caught sucking some vato's dick?
i am quite shocked, and frankly so upset, because i really feel that once again, the gays are destroying the sanctity of marriage with their goddamned satanic agenda.
the sea and the cake fucking rule, though i really only prefer the album one bedroom, the best.
sunshine on my shoulders.
i'm back on the music mix making that i was saying i was so obsessed about before and then i totally forgot what i was about to say.
and now i'm typing slowly-er.
bitch bitch betta have my money.
sea and cake are special.