I am Jane Goodall's Tanzanian monkeys typing about bananas.
My fingers are Santa's little helpers.
My hope is a sporadic rainfall - yet a torrential downpour in all creative environments.
I am Theseus, unspooling golden yarn.
Sisyphus, sweating uphill.
in rooming houses.
A river always flowing.
I am the nightmare of stagnancy and a God of Imagination.
Evening when I was writing after work, something happened. A doppelganger of myself popped up right beside me.
It actually sounded like that. I jumped/swore/and fell off the couch. He/Me/I/It was wearing the same clothing as I was. I fell on my ass and rubbed my eyes with the heel of my palms.
He/Me/I/It sat there, looking just as shocked as I was.
I and He/Me/I/It both said at the same time, "What the fuck?"
And then we fainted.
That was a long time ago. Now were the best of friends. We're the reason that we don't return your phone calls, why we avoid certain events, why we procrastinate to points of complete, illogical explanation - it's because we're just so fucking cool. We make ourselves laugh, we tell dumb jokes, trade books, comic books, read passages of poetry to each other - we start to write things but usually end up getting distracted and end up doing something else completely different. One night may start with us making Zucchini bread and then an hour later we're acting out scenes from Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead. Do laundry and end up weeding in the garden. Want to take naps but end up arm-wrestling instead.
We have fun, and lots of it. I don't even know what I would do if I didn't have He/Me/I/It in my life - but there's one thing that we are extremely focused on. One thing that we fear and slightly tremble at the notion of...
We're afraid of the "Un-POP". We've talked about it. We hope to God that it never happens.
That ONE evening, fooling around after work, the doppelganger of ourselves will disappear.
Just like that. And it'll be done. No more. No Best friend, confidant, go-to-guy. Done, finished, fini.
a homeless 23 year old after work toothpaste 20 dollars spun drugs atm frustration
I have so much in the back of my car
and i talked to him
before, he called out to me asking me for something and i yelled out to WAIT
i gave him 1/50th of it
prepper shit in my car
it drives me fucking crazy
i have this stuff but
why cant i change his life?
because i cant?
i know his age drug habits where he sleeps now
he didnt need a sleeping bag, clothes
accepted chocolate, food, all of my huge bags of toothpaste and toothbrushes for him and his friends
i gave him, not advice - but a small amount of shit as I gave him 20 bucks
i told him that I wished that he would use it for food and/or comfort - not drugs but I understand that he was nodding his head because he was appreciative and i get it
i asked him if he was using resources that my city has available for the homeless. Food, shelter, etc.
he said 211?
I said no and started to talk about our PD homeless liason that I know but he started talking about some other stuff and...he wasn't into it.
he said that he had pride to a certain extent and didn't like hand outs as much as everybody else.
we talked more.
he talked about his mother in a minute. She sucked.
he lost it after his girlfriend slept with some guy.
i don't even know where im going with this story. It's late now.
i am not drunk.
i can give a fuck about grammar, syntax, punctuation
i worked tonight. first thing that I had to do was to kick out a person
i made people laugh
business was slow
shit got busy
my job sucks ass
and I have the best job in the world
people would kill me for my job
So, here you have little old, fucking me - just depositing money into my local ATM because I need to, because if I don't, then my world will explode and then implode and explode in an even grander and more majestic galactic thing of beautiful destruction.
I want to take you by your fucking ears and help you.
I can do more. That's what sucks. And, please - do this for me. No, seriously. I'm Fucking RETARDED. I don't know how to do shit. I put the IDIOT into the Idiot Savant.
I am still haunted by being homeless when I was 18-19......
I was 15 seconds away from home and I turned my car around
I wanted to catch him again and give him more stuff
then I turned my car back around to go home
i understand why
but it bugs me
when I told him that i just got off of work and that i was a bartender
he was very surprised
E.S.P. Telekinesis. Ancient Astronauts. Nutri-Grain.
Pregnancy. Bigfoot. Ecto-Cooler. Malcolm McLaren. Cancer. 5D. Mediocre
Mario-Kart. Watches. Me. Fencing. God. Gleek. Gloop. Goop!!! The Goon. The
Gooch. Kathleen Kennedy. VALIS. Pleats. EG&G. 1957. Che Guevara. Ultron.
Colonel Graff. Dan Sweetman. Astral Projection. Stan Getz. Cần Thơ.Fat Free Milk. C3-PO. This End Up^. In Love.
Yorick. Harper Lee. The Bleed. Dies The Fire. Aries. ISON Comet. Gretal. I LIKE
IKE. Crystal Pepsi. Alfred Pennyworth. decbinaryhex4 = 00100 = 0x048 = 01000 = 0x0815 = 01111 = 0x0F16 = 10000 = 0x1023 = 10111 = 0x1742 = %0101010 = 0x2A108 = %1101100 = 0x6C 7418880 =
%11100010011010000000000 = 0x713400. Alta Loma, California. Howard Stark. Text
“TACO” to 91318. Frak. MI6. Crosley. Lovecraft. Selina Kyle Malone. The
ThinRed Line. Crystal Skulls. Holocrons.
D20. THACO. Liberty Board Shop. George McFly. Cambridge. AaBbc. Better dead
than Read! The Hedgehog. Zucchini. Mayans. The Pearl. Not Steinbeck.
Vornado.River Pheonix. I want to TEACH
children about the joys of the written word, I am my Grandmother’s…ummm- -
-uhhhhh, I guess Grandson. I raised myself on her LATIN lessons and her
elementary school primers. And maybe with the books –ALL of the wonderous,
kind-of crazy/miasmic plethora of fucking weird-ass shit that I had read in
book shelves and things that I was told NOT TO TOUCH. I Read them. ALL of them.
I READ EVERYTHING. I suck things in my mind. Always, I do it. It causes me
pain. JOY. I’m not special – but I am. I have limited memory recall. I
regurgitate about 63%, MAYBE in every aspect of my life. I feel guilt about
this. I should be smarter. I just can’t remember all of the shit that I read. I
don’t tell people that part of the reason that I don’t sleep during the day is
that I HAVE TO DRINK LIQUIDS AND HAVE TO READ STUFF. I know that I need to
sllep but I get distracted even if I know what I’m watching on the dumb
computer is a conduit for knowledge. I am always excited…butbutbut I’m FUCKING
RETARDED. I have ADHD. CLINICAL Depression. I am not the kite. I am the heavy
string. I am not special. I collect what dust and sediment passes through my
ears. It’s all Cilia. It’s all filimental. I think I just made up that word –
but it really does make sense of this sensical NON-sense.
LOVE/a futurist/STRONGER THAN ALL OF YOU/and am learning
I’ll be serious.
THESE ARE THINGS THAT I DO WELL:
1.I can get people excited about books or anything
2.I REALLY AM A GOOD BARTENDER.
3.I REALLY AM A GOOD……writer.
4.I make you laugh.
5.My insides are good. Perfect health. Drink less.
6.ADHD, CLINICAL DEPRESSION, and just being