It's Nice...

2 have you around
to see what you've been doing
2 know that you're well
to live vicariously through you and
2 know that I'm loved by you also

it's nice
to write 2night and
life surely is amazing at times
isn't it?

i just wanted to say it
before it's
2 late

I Die Myself And I Want To Hate...

Burn everything that wasn't written on paper.

Oh, and my birth certificate. Save that.

angels

of the universe
dogs of death
galactic souls
babies breath

Django Reinhardt [FULL ALBUM]

Hi!

How's the book going?

A Ticket In Crime's Square...

I've been home for thirty minutes. I've changed out of my work clothes, I've made myself a drink, I've eaten a small amount of food-stuff, Morgan Freeman is on the television talking about Lemurs, my face is now washed, I smoked a cigarette (Stop Smoking), and I just killed an ant (Sorry, ant).

I just found an electric bill underneath my keyboard = $69.05. Due 06/03.

If I can write this now - I paid it.

I kid. Money gets sucked out of my bank account for various things:

electricity
gas
insurance
parasites
interwebbb

2bcontinued

Jack: [to Kate] Tell me something. How come any time there's a hike into the heart of darkness, you sign up? 

All Of The Pictures On My Desktop Right Now...

SATAN

When you smile, it's like Christmas lights turn on at the same time all over the world.

If You Were To Die Right Now, How Would You Feel About Your Life?

Tyler Durden just said that. I asked Tyler what he was doing in my living room and he punched me in the face and told me to stop asking sissy questions. I spit out a tooth and said that I wished that he'd blow up all of the credit card company buildings in real life like he did in Fight Club, I could benefit from a little Project Mayhem to eradicate my credit history. Then he kicked me in the eye with his boot heel and said, Kevynn, you have a class of young strong men and women, and they want to give their lives to something. Advertising has these people chasing cars and clothes they don't need. Generations have been working in jobs they hate, just so they can buy what they don't really need. We don't have a great war in our generation, or a great depression, but we do, we have a great war of the spirit. We have a great revolution against the culture. The great depression is our lives. We have a spiritual depression. We have to show these men and women freedom by enslaving them, and show them courage by frightening them. I told him that he was scaring me, and then he grabbed me by the balls and dragged me into a corner of the room.

Right about that time - Charles Bukowski came into the room. He just walked on in, downed a can of Schlitz, crumpled it, and threw it towards the corner that Tyler and I were in. It bounced off of Tyler's shaven head, and I thought that Tyler was going to beat him up, but Tyler just smiled, swatted Buk on the back as he walked on by, told him that he was a big fan, and that he loved Post Office, and then left.

I could hear noise coming from the fridge, and groaningly got up. Buk was already polishing off one of my beers. He stripped down to his boxers and asked me where all the goddamn real booze was. I told him that was all I had, and that did he really believe in a god? He grabbed another one of my beers, kicked off his shoes, and said, I have more faith in my plumber than I do the eternal being. Plumbers do a good job. They keep the shit flowing…and then he disappeared into my bathroom.

I shuffled over to the phone and was about to call 911, when there was a knock at the door. I didn't want to answer it, so I peeped through the peephole. It was Frank Sinatra. Shit, it was Frank - so I opened the door. He looked great.Sharp. His pinky rings twinkled in the moonlight. I invited him in. He grabbed a seat by my fireplace and asked me how my bird was. I told him that I didn't have any pets, except for a bunch of cats. He rolled his eyes and said, no, man - how's your bird and pointed to my crotch. That confused the hell out of me. Why was Frank Sinatra asking about my dick? So, I just told him that my bird was flying around. That seemed to please him immensely. I relaxed a little. Frank was pleased. I was pleased. Maybe Frank could swing me a room in Vegas? Bukowski came out and stank up the whole place. He grabbed another one of my beers and then sat down at my computer. All of my cats instantly congregated around his feet and purred. He asked if I had any decent classical music in the place. I looked at Frank. He nodded slightly, and I tuned the radio to a station that Buk seemed to not mind. Frank asked me how everything else was goin'. I said that I guess that everything else was okay, nothing that exciting. He said that it wasgood to not be one of those complicated, mixed-up cats looking for the secret to life… just to go on from day to day, and to take what comes…

That seemed to make sense to me. I politely excused myself and told Frank that I thought that I needed to spit out a couple more teeth; did he want me to pick him up some stuff for martinis, or get him some whisky? He told me that he was okay for now, he was waiting for Ava. I got the feeling that he'd be there for a long time, and I left out through the front door to wiggle my loose teeth around. Tyler was in the parking lot of the park across the street, fighting somebody. I didn't want to attract his attention because I was afraid he'd tell me to duke it out with a Puerto Rican busboy. But I ended up walking over to him. Something was bugging me. I needed to tell him something.

He just got finished, and was wiping blood out of his eyes with the heel of his palms.

What do you want, Malone?
You want me to take you shopping or something?
Do you want me to politely ask the world to get off your back?
Are you finally sick of your life?
Are you ready to sacrifice everything
to become the type of person that you're supposed to be?

No, not really, Tyler. I just wanted to answer your question.

What fucking question, Malone?

"If you were to die right now, how would you feel about your life?"

Yeah…and...?

I'd feel fine.

Are You Going?

I'm so sorry that Buddy Holly died.
Because I totally, would've LOVED to see him at the Orange County Fair.

Mischa Maisky plays Bach Cello Suite No.1 in G (full)

My 30-Year Old Self Interviewied My 40-Year Old Self...DRAFT

Describe the 40 year old's house from the 30 years old's perspective. Like he's a legit interviewer. Describe the set up for the interview. And the room and the house that the interview is taking place in. Describe some of the 40 year old's mannerisms, etc.

30 - Before we start - I've got to say...I'm a HUGE fan.

40 - What? Seriously? That's kind of dumb. You...WE used to interview bands a little bit back in the day. That's what you say as an introduction? I - WE hate that shit! What's wrong with you? You okay, dude? And I'm looking at you too, dude You look fucking skinny, man. You look like I would if I did drugs. But you don't, I know. You need health insurance too and dental insurance. Seriously. Get that shit.

30 - You look...well. Ummm. Wait. What? Seriously. I mean - I am. I'm doing it, you know - I've just gotta -

40 - Nah. No, you're not.

30 - So. Uhmmm. So......you're not married, huh? And no kids? Dude. what happened?

40 - Nothing.

30 - I know, but - you know, I just kinda thought by now that -

40 - Nope. You and D broke up when you were 32. Sorry, buddy. Then came C and then came M and then came L and then came R and then came another M. Some were tiny dating relationships and don't really count. You have this to look forward to in the next ten years, dude. But it's good. It wasn't bad. Obviously there were some pretty heart-heavy and emotionally, fucking, heavy months and years but - it's okay. You will learn a shitload of stuff, my friend.

30 - Holy crap.

40 - Yeah...

30 - But what happened?

40 - Nothing, really. It's just people, man. Like I said - you'll learn a lot.

30 - Who was your - our favorite? Like, who did you -

40 - Dude. Seriously. Ask me something else.

30 - Okay. Sure. Ummm...Soooooo....I don't know what to say now.

40 - DUMB.

30 - Dude, that's not cool.

40 - Sorry. I'm not trying to be a dick. I love you. DUH. I really do. I'm just super tired and I get bored easily. ADHD, madness, compassion and I'm trying to bail out water in this tiny, yet tough boat that I'm in. I've got enough shit on my plate, man. Like, I'm sitting here -SUPER FUCKING TIRED. Like, I feel like I'm dying. Like I'm fucking dead. I'm dead when I'm awake. I'm a kid. I'm a zombie. I'm stupid. I'm wicked smaht, though. WICKED SMAHT.

30 - That sounds dumb.

40 - Yeah, dude. I'm sorry. Seriously. You've got a lot ahead of you.

30 - No. That sounds dumb what you said.

40 - What?

30 - I don't think that you've grown up that much, man - this is just what I'm saying. you like to talk. WE -I like to talk, yeah - for sure, but - DUDE. You sound just like me right now but just filled with more bullshit. you're not giving me that much hope. I mean, you're totally -

40 - Seriously? Awww...fuck yourself then. Go write some poetry, go...GO FUC

Fat Free Milk

OLD SCHOOL BLOG HEADING.

Who's scruffy-lookin'?

I'm a hungry Wampa without a Tantaun
Chewbacca without a Bowcaster
Greedo with good aim
Salacious Crumb without the cackle
A Sarlaac without a pitt
Boba without the jet pack
Echo Station without a shield generator
A Snow Speeder without a tow cable
I am Dantooine without the millions of voices suddenly crying out in terror that were suddenly silenced
I am a Land Speeder without the vaseline smeared glob beneath my wheels
R2-D2 incessantly chirping
I do not know how big I've grown eating food of this kind
I am the crying Rancor Keeper
I am Yak and Prune Face
I am Sy Snootles without The Max Rebo Band
I am a Gundark without ears
I am Darth Vader without asthma and an Emperor without finger-tipped lightning bolts
Jabba without delectable frogs and Bib Fortuna without the head tentacles
Watto without wings
John without the Williams
Leia sans slave outfit
I am Dagobah without swamp
A Bantha without poodoo
and I'm a dud of a Thermal Detonator
I have convinced my new master to take off my restraining bolt
I am Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen without Tupperware glasses
I can't make the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs
I am the ninth moon of Endor
I am Jimmy Smits as Bail Organa
I am Kit Fisto, Plo Kloon and that other Jedi guy dying like bitches
I am the fat, dancing Twilek in Jabba's Palace
I am the bone in your Rancor's teeth
I am Jek Porkins dying in a shower of sparks
I am Industrial Light and Reality
Luke screaming, Yes! That's true! Yes, it is possible!
A tank leaking Bacta
An AT-AT without armor plating
Ewoks without a village
and Han Solo without a bounty over his head
4-LOM without Zuckuss
I am a canceled Boonta Eve race
and a quadrapelegic Wookie wanting to rip off your arms
I am the Star Wars Holiday Christmas Special
and a swarm of sucking Mynocks
I have a bad feeling about this

and

I am not the droid you're looking for.

I'm having a healthy amount of optimism about life lately...YEAH. ME. DRAFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

POSITIVITY/HOPE

It's nice and refreshing. It feels like fancy sparkling water with lime. Like puppy smell. Like babies when they aren't pooping or screaming. When you stick your adult nose right on top of their wispy baby head and smell deep and fully and I don't know why it's made of so much content magic but we all write about it soitmustbetrue. Like inflating a balloon. Like a car wash, a fragrance-free body wash or like refresh drops on my contacts. A glimpse of fireflies. Like remembering to do something nice for somebody and actually doing it. High fives and friends that you've known for more than 20 years.

REALITY/DESPAIR

The Hindenberg, Roanoke, The Titanic band's water-logged mix tape CD, free health care, DK2 by Frank Miller. A good eggs benedict. Inevitable drought and an impending, catastrophic earthquake in my favorite contiguous united state. Episode 1 and 2.

I never thought I was that great anyway. I write like I speak. Like Yoda with Strep Throat. Like Marlee Matlin drunk. Like Jabba without Bib Fortuna. Like...fershure.

I just scratched my head before I started writing. Do people actually do that? I'm a cartoon.

I'm ridiculous.

Yet, you're the one here...READING THIS.

I Wrote A Thing For A Thing And They LIKED IT...

I can't put it here before the magazine comes out but...it's been a while since I've had something in print. I'll show you when it comes out. It makes me happy and it's about something totally cool!

I DID miss a deadline for submissions for CSUF though. I didn't MISS IT but more like, wrote a huge number of rants and things but they were not ready to be published - so, I didn't.

That's what a couple of those messes were below.

It would've been a bummer anyway for some.

Maybe good for some.

But, I'm not going to let you read CRAPPYEMOTIONALEMOCRAP.

That's what Fat Free Milk is for and HAS BEEN for the last 13 years!!!

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good. W. H. Auden

This was the best thing that I've written today.

That sentence that you just read above.

I would doubt that it was the best sentence that you've read today.

I don't know. I don't know anythjing about your day. I don't know what was good and what was bad, what worked and what didn't maybe just possiblt that what little that I did maybe helpe a little bit even if it was nothing because...remeber...I havent really written anything yet.

I havent gotten aropund to telling you about glacier-like progression of my depresseion and the regression of I dont even know what to say

I know that its hard to get out of bed but that its hard to keep my heart inside of my body because it needs more blodd pumping through it. My heart needs more hearts too. Ive proven that its a loving thing but it also wants to eat your hearts brains

you, know – I can talk about work and how it's killing me slowly and that maybe my work is like cancer but then when I start typing that I feel like a horrible human being when I have opeople that I know that have dided of cance and a friend even now going through chemo. So im a dick. A worthless, uncaring, selfidsh dick. So. I don't know what to write about. I know that my body is slowly failing me and that I drink too much and smoke too much and that I was very proud of myself for quitting both of thoase things recently. But then, I got treated to dinner at a fancy restaurant and really didnt give a fuck. Anf thats my problem. I care too much but dont gve a fuck. But im getting old now. I give a fuck. I really do.

I dfont know whats going to happen to me and I dont know where im going to end up but im scared about being here, doing the same things. Making the same relationship mistakes and just being here birng here bieng here. It hasnt worked before and its not going to continue to not work It's just going to stop. STOP.

Anf that'll be it. I've almost died before. TWICE. That sucked. And I was supposed to be stronger after it. I wqas and then I got stupid again. My body and my will is failing. Dwindling, I should say.

What do I want? What do I want to become. Not this. Not sl;owly dying on the vine while drinking it's wine. I'm 40 years old now. I've been writing my whole life. I like it sometimes and sometimes I reqally hate it. What I want is to live the last half of my life and to feel allright about it.

It's time to wake up. Or just slowly die. That's how cut and dried it is. TRUST ME. THRUST ME.

I'm weak, but hopeful. And, now music is playing that was super emo for me back when I was 20. This fucking song...I was so heartbroken, so in love...really....

I hope you're well.

I apologize for ranting, but thank you for reading the rant that you just read.

It was the best thing that ive written today.

im

im going to write like you

im going to write like you would write

im going to write things that other people would like

that they could relate to easier

the stuff that I write

only I like

and sometimes hate

and the stuff that I write

kids would like

when read in storybook form

or

read

like I write in Kevin Book form

i hate naps

i like snacks

I hate naps

the end

I've lost it

not my sanity

but

something else

something even bigger than losing your marbles

I've lost will, direction/hope

I don't know if I can get it back

its not about me getting older

it's about what I still feel but can't reach anymore

its about staying in my room for the whole day and night

it's about the oppressive weight of depression

I'll call it it DOPEression

and the fire-ant pains in my phantom brain(s)

I was better once

I thought that I was bad then

now I'm really bad

and I guess that's the lesson of the day

it can always get worse

lows become lower

I know that things have just as much capacity to go the other way too

but

I've lost that positivity also

you were my moon, Miss

and

I miss me

I miss you, Son

All of this and everything

I've lost it

not my sanity

but

something else

something

and everything

Everything and Nothing

I'm not like them
But I can pretend
The sun is gone
But I have a light
The day is done
But I'm having fun

I think I'm dumb
Or maybe just happy
Think I'm just happy
My heart is broke
But I have some glue
Help me inhale
And mend it with you
We'll float around
And hang out on clouds
Then we'll come down
And have a hangover, have a hangover

Skin the sun
Fall asleep
Wish away
The soul is cheap
Lesson learned
Wish me luck
Soothe the burn
Wake me up

I'm not like them
But I can pretend
The sun is gone
But I have a light
The day is done
But I'm having fun

I think I'm dumb

Songwriters: KURT COBAIN
© BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC
For non-commercial use only.
Data From: LyricFind

No attacks by ULTRON.

I think that I'm insane.
I've barely slept.
I came home at 3 in the morning.
Talked to my Father.
Went to breakfast at 8 in the morning. Ordered food but had them put it in a to go box. Had two mimosas.
Decided against sleep and was going to take a shower instead but ended up waking up hours later in my room.
I was too tired.
this is boring.

THE MOON...

should be Pac-Man, the clouds should be ghosts
and the stars should be pellets.


 

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