Monday, March 31, 2003


The Xerox Machine Is Out Of Paper...

Well, considering that I can't finish anything that I've been writing, I'll just post the ultimate unfinished crapola that I have so far and leave you alone...

Oh, and I have a new post here.

Bunny Rabbit...

Discussed this weekend plans for my birthday. Camping at Joshua Tree it is. Doesn't sound that bad. I love camping. Well, whenever I do it, that is. It'll be fun. Mellow. Some rock climbing, coyote-dodging, beer-drinkin. Last time I went, I cheated. I went the X amount of miles back into town to get more gas so that I could explore inside the park more, replinish the dwindling beer and ice supply, and get an ice cream. I cheated. Who cares?


Monday...

Aww, crap - It's Monday - but you knew that already, huh? You're sitting at your computer at work or at home, making the computer rounds. This is all that you're going to get right now. I should be trying to sleep. I had a couple other things that I was going to write about, but I ditched them. They just didn't feel right. You need to let me know hoe your day is going. You need to let me know what's wrong with your day so far and what's right. Tell me about your weekend and tell me how much you love me. Tell me that the plane ticket is in the mail or that you're coming to pick me up. Tell me that the warm weather today is just a fluke and that it'll go back to being chilly just the way I fooking like it. I'm not the typical Southern Californian boy. I hate warm weather. It makes me miserable. I don't really go to the beach anymore. I used to go everyday. How the hell did I make that happen? I used to skate everyday. Ummm...now, I skate to my car pin the driveway. Well, when my ankle isn't broken, I mean. I haven't been writing on my screenplays. I'm a shit. A shitty shit shit. Stop nodding your head, yo.

So, it's Monday. Eat lunch yet? Thinking about what you have to or want to do when you get home? Pick up the kid? The dry cleaning? Or pick up the kid at the dry cleaners? Or dry clean the kid? I used to work at a dry cleaners, so I shouldn't complain. Damn, Nigga - could I tell you stories about that. Man, what's happening to me right now? I'm not even feeling uncreative; I'm just a tad bit too apathetic at the moment. I'm not feeling it. That's okay, though...I've got all tomorrow to hit you over the head with my vile verbosity. What? I don’t know. You know I'm bored if I just wished that a pizza man would come to the door. If I'm thinking of food, then that means something's wrong. Barbecue, yes. But all other food? I must be coming down with something. Maybe a SARS-induced delirium. Man, first thing my ankle gets good enough to walk on - I need to get the hell out of here. Somewhere quick. Even for a day. Disneyland doesn't count. This is a horrible post. I hate it, but won't erase it. I've already done that tonight.


How Now Brown Cow...

It runs like the most tiring nazi nigger hell Jesse Owens race.

All sweating pride

Dripping unnoticed

While the dictators mustache is dry

King Arthur lay rotting in a prison cell
Charles Manson authored rot in his

Beats
Streets
And
Songs incomplete

We can only make
Monsters of ourselves.






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