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live from somewhere... [06 Oct 2009|04:38pm]
Hello, is anyone out there? I feel like some apocolyptic refugee who's stumbled upon a sinkhole leading to a bombed out bunker filled with old servers. And down here among the rats, a digital time-capsule wakes from its immortal slumber to show me visions of an earlier time, blown to irradiated smithereens. But, as i cough the scavenged cigar butt from my bloody lips, a small inkling of memory stirs in my fallout-pickled mind. Maybe the blast was not so long ago... maybe the bombs were dropped yesterday. Impossible to tell. The country is scarred and burned beyond recognition. The columns of black fire have been swirling into space as long as anyone now has been alive. Haven't they? Of course they have. But, here. Down here in the bunker, amidst the decay- organic and inorganic- i smell flowers and rain. Among the creaks of sliding earth and inert shifting machinery and the teaming of roach larvae and rat broods, I hear music... wait, what is a flower? and what is music? And since when did rain smell like anything but cracked batteries?

maybe it wasn't all that long ago. Maybe there's still places like the ones in the images. It's something to swing for, I suppose... other than the skulls of- BAAAAGHHH!!! ZOMBIE COWS!!!
make room for the tuna

What do we do with a day off? [07 Feb 2009|10:04am]
[ mood | awake ]

Since rising roughly at 8 am- because some sadistically empathetic part of me can't bear the idea of sleeping while April must get up in the early winter morning and go to work- I have already:
- cleaned as much of the mess as I'm willing to take responsibility for (even though I'll probably cave and do the rest anyway).
- sent my resume to those last employers that I lovingly relegated to my "Last Resort" list (Kinkos).
- cleaned cat poop out of various places of varying degrees of naughty kitty-ness (if you can understand that, you must have got up early too).
- eaten items that might be considered strange for breakfast... or for humans.
- pooped.
- contemplated showering, and then considered that if I shower now, I will only reek later of cats, cigarettes, whatever filth I incur from further cleaning, and whatever filth I ingest for lunch. I don't wanna be shtinky when the missus returns.
- watched Home Improvement... god help me I think it's my favorite show... DAMN YOU BASIC CABLE!!!
- did a load of laundry (in the butt).
- tried to draw a picture only to realize that I had dreamed I was an artist, and the reality is that I can only draw ninja turtles and ninja turtles in sombreros...
- tried to read, but couldn't because I had three cups of coffee within 5 minutes of opening my eyes, and my thoughts kept drifting to questioning continuing practice of wearing wigs in English courtrooms... they'll be nothing but plagued dirt stackers, in filthy Hamlets where people wash there privates in rivers of tainted beef gravy in my mind, until they abandon those damnable wigs!!!
- cursed the English.
- sat here and wrote this crap for the last half hour (while masturbating).

Pretty eventful two and half hours, I say... but, now what? I mean, I guess I could call Devin and see if he wants to go to the gym... but... ehgggkkhhhh, the gym? Why engage in self-improvement, when I could sit here in my bohemian grotto, watch Home Improvement, and wait for the respective mental capacities of my cats and myself to equalize? Nice, I'm drooling already!

1| make room for the tuna

Writer's Block: Robotic [30 Jan 2009|11:13pm]
Who (or what) is your favorite fictional robot?
Awesome-O. he's a pleasure model.
2| make room for the tuna

The Thaw [30 Jan 2009|09:57am]
[ mood | content ]

Holy shit, it's a month into 2009! The end of the world is approaching rapidly, and my world has spitefully chosen to begin within the last 6 months. Of course, some people don't even get a week of happiness in their lives, so I suppose I'll end somewhere on the crest of the curve- carving the average like a pro (cowabunga). Seriously though, my fiance is taking on a major challenge, which is charming and cheering the misanthrope, and doing quite well.

I mean, look what her presence in my home is inspiring: I'm even writing in this silly thing... which I guess could be a good thing or a bad thing. The point is she makes me feel like a high school kid again. She's introduced warm tones of late spring and early autumn into my abominable winter wasteland of flat grays and clinical blues.

You wouldn't know it, because she works so much these days, but she's an inspired heart, boiling with verse and ambition. She has a mind that I can sink my teeth into, and one that would definitely appreciate that mental image. She's strange enough to know what I mean, even when I haven't quite sorted it myself... which is rare, and invaluable, to someone who scares away as many people as he attracts. Furthermore- as if I could ask for more- she's lovely as the night is sacred (what a babe).

Okay, I'm done gushing... for now.

-Things are far from perfect, but I feel good. Take that, God.

make room for the tuna

[05 Jun 2008|01:49am]

my bank account dwells in the birchwood commune of dad deaths and crimson foes


i have junk bond options in a split differential advantage fund in the teacup mansion of St. Maldroy of Finderskeepers


fuck you

that means we're meant to be wolfmen boyfriends who never kiss lips but paw the tips of the tulip nippled chisled hips of brazen lovelies

I cannot wait until we release unground peotry zines @ yale


i've heard whisper bubbles popping in the deep end of cantonese spitting fly breeding pools


and yet fools sleep beneath the sheep's blood within wolf jaws coughing up barking well fed crooks stealing bags of cash from handsome trash tossing her out as if she is nothing but " a phantom in the face of god" as satan brushes his teeth with during the murder of a sheep


and yet fools sleep beneath the sheep's blood within wolf jaws coughing up barking well fed crooks stealing bags of cash from handsome trash tossing her out as if she is nothing but " a phantom in the face of god" as satan brushes his teeth with during the murder of a sheep


just another bloodied namesayer, as if one less could impress the lesson... they'll never learn, but then again, they never asked for enlightenment. let them eat cake and take it for slander

i thank you for your candor



long winded sentiments hide in my head like anne frank from readers digest fascists, in period fashion, while napoleonic shades march across the siberia of my view


at the teeth of the rattled snake sneak peeking a heavy rifle as if I am the type to take my clothes off under and over the deepest creek.the newspaper will call my death ' accidental' and the friend sof my mother will weep with the ferns and then lawnmowers will churn their last breaths as if the grass will die by itself as the plates and bowls with commit suicide from their ;edges and their shelves


save for rot and apathy, there is nothing left of me. I have given and given to the soul drive, and it has left me dry, not high. Blame the church, and blame the steeple, break the doors that hold the people. If sand were made of sorrow grains, then you would see through my window pain. Cursing fate is like squeezing stone, i'm made of sticks tied to bones
make room for the tuna

[23 May 2008|02:45am]
[ mood | evilicious ]

Hey, you know, I smoke cigarettes because suicide is too much of a shock to the loved ones... so I guess if I have to die slowly and painfully, then they have to mourn slowly and painfully. So, somehow this is for and in spite of my loved ones... This is my mind, ladies and gentleman... Now, before you run me through with your pitchfork, can I use your torch to light up? Oh, this is a no smoking windmill? Okay, well then just go ahead and kill me.

3| make room for the tuna

Crazy Japanese Komodo Dragon Game [13 Jan 2008|10:06pm]

It's everybody's favorite prime time gameshow!
1| make room for the tuna

The Bones Don't Lie. [05 Dec 2007|01:49am]
[ mood | anxious ]

You lied, because you liked her,
and now that she's yours,
play it off sweetly,
let love take its course-
("No," they say, "that's not the way!")

An entire sky above you,
the whole world around
yet underfoot you're pushin'
away the same old ground-
And what have you found?
Relics- the traces of trails
That, long ago, went cold.
You follow them, though,
To get the scent in your nose.

Winter's first winds
are piercing through fall.
The timbers are falling,
The shadows grow tall.

This is a new moment,
but it stings of the last-
Pushing them past,
as if they weren't
already moving too fast-
(And they will never come back.)

Fill the seconds with silence,
as if they weren't already overflowing-
You take them and leave them,
Without even knowing.

She told you your heart,
and, by god, she's right-
It's just a damn shame
that you'll blame on short sight.

Monuments rise, as monarchies fall,
while I hold back words that
could crumble them all-

After all,
it's all ruins anyway-
They fall like the night
and then fade into day.

make room for the tuna

Writer's Block: Warning: [01 Dec 2007|02:20am]
If you came with a warning label, what would it say?

"Contents under pleasure."
make room for the tuna

What smells so heavenly in here?! [01 Dec 2007|02:13am]
[ mood | soaked ]

Is this realy the reality that I inhabit?

2| make room for the tuna

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