Thing I'm Most Afraid Of No. 83...

That when they write about me after I die, they'll say...

'During 1995-2005, he worked various, unremarkable jobs - not really getting into his (fill in the blank here) until kjsahjkhdsjkshdjkhd, etc.'

A Puff of Smoke...

Yeah, I make dinner a lot - and it's never for me. I like to cook because it's something to do while thinking non-thinking thoughts...to...do...while you're standing there thinking, I think. I don't like to eat. I hate it. I'd rather drink things instead. Anything. It doesn't even have to be alcohol-based. I just need liquids. I can never NOT have anything to drink by me. Beer seems to be the most fun.

And I'm very proud of myself. I'm so very skinny still. An old bastard with creaking everythings trapped in a dried-out, brittle toothpick tower. Yet, you can pick me up and hear things sloshing around in my head. Where's that come from, you wonder? He's kind of like those African rain sticks that you can purchase at the mall. And then you gingerly set me back down.

I will stay forever like this until the cancers and preservatives start to eat me away like ravenous termites with buck teeth. I am a peeling Mona Lisa. Each bead of sweat is paint thinner.

I am not hungry. I am not hungry. I am not hungry. Yes I AM. I want to split your skull and slurp out everything except your brain. I need everything and want nothing all at the same time. I will not stop. Ever. I do what I want. Always.

There's your goddamn appetite.

Fatty.

Why I'm A Good Boyfriend, Reason No. 5498754376...

Me - (from the computer) Hi honey!

Her - (from the bedroom) I just watched a dsahklshwihwgrblgrh!!!

Me - What?

Her - I just watched a new Good Charlotte video.

Me - Eeewww.

Her - It was actually pretty good.

Me - I hope they fucking die.

Aayla Secura's Blue Boobs...

If I watch the new Star Wars trailer one more time - I will become THE BIGGEST NERD EVER IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD.

You're Eating Maggots, Michael...

So, I almost caught a glimpse of Kiefer Sutherland on Saturday night. Rumor had it that he was around, and he was. After making a bunch of Lost Boys jokes, I left the patio of the bar that I was at and used the bathroom. Of course, two minutes after that-he passed by my friends. Not that big of a deal - but, I think that that was the only chance I ever had for eternal life - and I blew it. Stupid me. But then I'd have to let a man bite me on the neck. Hmmm...worth it? Maybe. I'd let The Count from Sesame Street bith me first, It's hurt less and he's just a puppet. We both have the same skin tone, don't y' know. Isn't that nice. I'd let Alliyah/Queen Of The Damned bite me, though. Dead or not. Blacula's okay too.

I Am More Raw Umber Than Your Burnt Sienna...

I bet Crayola stock used to go up
everytime some dummy used the term 'colored people'.

Doombot...



Starting tomorrow/today - when I wake up I will do everything differently than I normally do. I haven't yet, fully thought this through. I am going to act like me in the future coming back into my body now in 2005. I will also treat everyday like it's Opposites Day - that game that we used to play when we were kids. So that means everything that I say should be the complete opposite of something that I would normally say. Also, if I hate doing something, than I will do it more. And if I really love something, I'm going to do my best to ignore it. I'm going to stop this now, because normally I would explain in detail a bunch of crazy ideas that I've dredged up on the fly. But I won't. I need to warm myself up to this...tomorrow's going to be an interesting day. I should just quit my job. I might do some drugs. I never do drugs. I need to start huffing paint. Okay, this is going to be haredr than I thought because already I'm back to my old ways and just typing in things that pop into my brain. I'm confusing myself. As step number one in my FUTURE SELF STEPPING BACK IN TIME - I am going to wake up early and cook breakfast for the girlfriend. I don't do breakfast much, I'm more of a lunch and dinner type. I don't know if I'll recap the differences in the days events or post on progress - I'll just have to see. Curious I be. Hmmm. I'm insane. Experiment starts now. I'm going to bed.

Dr. Banner Says That There Are Greener Days Ahead...

When you see me out in public and I don't say hi to you, it means that: I was deep in thought, not looking at you, didn't care, was avoiding you, not feeling social, was late to get somewhere, don't remember your name, had sex with you and am embarassed, not wearing my glasses or too angry to talk.

Not One Of Independence, But Of Dependent Service...

What used to be the buzz of a million Krynn dragons in my mind, is now a housefly. What used to be an enormous fire, is now an smoky ember. What used to be the rebounding echo of a preying bats squeak, is now the gnat flitting around in the same dark cave. What used to be Voltron is now, just Pidge making Anime faces.

I move in slow motion. You still move slower. The air is electric, but I am stagnant. The doses of pain administered to me are nothing - one can't take more out of the frontal lobe after the initial operation. It's hard to make a lame horse run faster, no matter how hard you crack the whip.

Steve Rogers was trapped in time. He awoke to a different age and adapted quickly because circumstances demanded it. The Vision has been resurrected as many times as Ultron. Comic book characters make Jesus jealous. Jason Todd tried to make a comeback, but couldn't find all of his parts. It's hard to walk, when bits of your flesh deck the hall like boughs of holly. ttralalalalalalalalaaaahhh

Reading Bushido: The Soul Of Japan and Replay by Ken Grimwood.

One deals with the outdated codes and ethics of historical samurai culture and one deals with a guy who gets the chance to relive his life after he's died. This might tell me something. This might tell me that all of the answers to my questions are obvious. That everything that you think you know - you do. That nothing is easy, and anything is only hard - if you care. This might tell me that if I'm so tired, that I need to either give up and have fun, roll with the punches, throw a thematical party now and then and sleep as long as possible, or to train myself not to RE remember how I used to be. Because who the hell wants to be like they were? Especially if we're apparently alive enough to lament about the passing of youth, time, love, money, Thundercats, etc.?

No, what we need is either a slow awakening or our skulls crushed whilst dreaming. There is no in-between. That only leads to more wasted time. I am Luke Skywalker's cut off arm. I am Daniel Ketch on fire. I am the hunger pangs of Gandhi. I am Phillip Morris' pocketbook. Why can't I have the persistence of my pulse? Why shouldn't I fight as hard as my asthmatic lungs? Why fight?

Don't know.

bitches...

I walk the same strip of Lemon Ave.
Everyday on my way
To work
friends of mine
Will drive by and
Honk their horns
Waving
From their windows,
“Hey, Tom,” they yell,
and keep going.
Now, what I want to know is,
If you see me walking
The same damn street
Every goddamn day,
Why won’t you
Pick me up?

I want to strangle their
Skinny little turkey necks.
Bitches…