who needs to sleep anyway?

i need to think more.

are you really out of ideas?




something something she something something. i can't remember the words.

fresh yogurt.

my hair smells like fresh yogurt. i've never actually smelled fresh yogurt before.. and i really didn't wash my hair with anything labeled 'fresh yogurt.' so i'm somewhat confused by the smell. what the hell is fresh yogurt?

pills.

i'm trying to remember.

why does my heart feel like it's going to explode?

'took some pills for my heart/but a little too late.'

si sous sans choc.

As it would turn out, the energy drink was not Mexican. Instead, it turned out to be Korean. Which was somewhat of a disappointment to the drinker. The drinker, of course, was I, the drinker... the beverage leaves a minty aftertaste which is quite noticeable. The drinker, I, can only imagine this is how a smoker of menthol cigarettes feels. My throat is both cool and uncomfortable. Am I even talking about the right cigarettes?



so under.
without shock.

vanishing act.

not exactly that. but i'm going to spend the weekend attending the marriage, reading, and writing. somewhere in between that i will find and make the time to bother my brother and tell him to shut up at least 3 times. it's all rather mysterious. i can't seewhat i'm typing now that i've made the text white.. i do see that i made a couple mistakes because there's those red lines there. i should make more red lines. it'll look pepperminty. but you don't get the satisfaction of seeing the red lines. all you get is white text. but maybe you're not.. or maybe you are.. i don't know. did i type now or know? let me try that again.. i don't know. there. use that one. forget about the other one. maybe you'll look at this and think. dude.. there's nothing here. and you'll be half right. i quoted some laotze.. and was called childish.. or i was called childish before i said that. but also after. so it's cool. everything's cool. somebody just blew their arm off or something.. july 4th. what kind of bird sings during the night? chirp chirp. tweet tweet.. that was the strangest sound to fall asleep to.

'smiling faces not forgotten because i love you.'

let me think about this. it was because he always wanted a song called 'i love you.'

you know those vanishing acts that magicians do? this is sort of like that. but instead of reappearing in a tiger cage.. with a tigerleaping out of a sawed woman's chest.. i'll be reappearing in a few days. without the tigers.. but maybe with the addition of a whale.

?

the water never gets cold enough. the one time during the winter where it did get cold enough.. i threw up.

it blends together.

ha.. this is fantastic. for some reason i'm getting hits from pfizer and something called qiagen.. which actually has a pretty fancy website. and some other hits from people along the east coast in search of thee makeout party reading.. or free music. i don't know. if they want reading material i have it. it has the toilet people's seal of approval for such quality reading when you're sitting in there doing whatever you feel or need to do. because sometimes you feel like you need to poop. and other times.. you really need to poop. so yeah. if you're looking for the free music.. i'm sorry. i don't have it. oh. and if you're taking a laptop into the bathroom.. keep it away from the water. and possibly the bladderal area. who knows what kind of mutating radiation it emits.

'the sun shines, but i don't'

i finally figured out where that line came from.. because i knew it came from somewhere.. and it came from a smashing pumpkins song. 'farewell and goodnight.' so i was pretty happy about that. because for the last couple.. months i thought it was just my mind mixing things up again. it does that a lot.

have you ever stretched out so far that it feels like the top half of your body is going to separate from the bottom? it feels great. this is probably why cats do that thing they do..

and so continues. my fascination with whales.. yeah i think my parents took me to go whale watching when i was little. but i don't remember seeing anything. or that might have been a commercial for extra sugar free gum.

why do they not make bootleg chucks with dinosaurs on them anymore? i totally had a pair of shoes like that. and they looked awesome.

'oh gin' is a very good song. by that one band.. that i can't stop listening to for some reason.


Oh, gin
How could you treat me this way
Oh, treat me this way

Oh, gin
How could you treat me this way
Baby, treat me this way

You know you broke my heart
Ever since you went away

You gotta feel it and like it
And if you move you gotta grip it and hold it
Oh, oh, oh, oh, gin
How you treatin' me this way

You know you broke my heart
Ever since you went away

Oh, gin
How could you treat me this way
How you treat me this way

Oh, gin
How could you treat me this way
How you treat me this way

You know you broke my heart
Ever since you went away

You gotta feel it and like it
And if you move it like it
Oh, oh, oh, oh, gin
How you treatin' me this way

You know I'm gonna stay alone
'til you come back and play

You know I've been so sad
Ever since you went away
You know that it's been so sad
Ever since you went away

now i feel like an alcoholic. but the double entendred-ness of the song is pretty awesome. and it did make room cleaning extremely groovy.

all right.

don't rest your forehead on the edge of your desk. you'll probably end up with a line there like me. a temporary line.. but a line nonetheless. and that has to be one of the weirdest looking words ever.. nonetheless.

i've been trying to figure out who's been reading this.. the person who i thought was reading it.. apparently goes on some reading bender and reads a whole bunch at one time. so it's not her. i asked.

definetly maybe
sometiems alawys.

i really screwed those up.. i'm going to sleep.

1967-1971

lou reed: rock & roll is so great, people should start dying for it. you don't understand. the music gave you back your beat so you could dream. a whole generation running with a fender bass... the people just have to die for the music. people are dying for everything else, so why not the music? die for it. isn't it pretty? wouldn't you die for something pretty? perhaps i should die. after all, all the great blues singers did die. but life is getting better now. i don't want to die. do i?



i read that. and then my head filled with the sounds of the stooges' 'i wanna be your dog.' because that was the title of the next part.. 'i wanna be your dog.' but it was a rather trashy sensation. it was great.



danny fields: they hired someone at a low level who wore bell-bottoms and smoked dope and took LSD in the office - me. and i really would take LSD in the office. i would sit around and just lick it. my hands would be all orange.

bonus material II: the revenge of bonus.

a man's jacket becomes a woman's jacket in the mirror.

?

!

another place for you to read.

here too.

and over here.

and one more spot.




_________ is _________ because you're stupid.

i haven't been here before.

did you see that?

the bottom of my foot is itchy. my hand is scratchy. so one's a mouse and the other's a cat. yeah.. i know. it's confusing. but the mouse likes to kill the cat.

somehow.

i've got fever in my pocket/down to my shoes/oh babe, i guess i'm falling in love.

it's such a good song.
but you already know that.

even if you
don't.

it's a good song.

just take my word for it.

i don't know what 'it' actually is though.

just take the words. keep them. they're my gift to you.


'sweet dreams'

bonus material.

are the strings rotating.. or are my fingers sliding off of them? nylon strings feel funny.. and also very very soft and pleasant to touch. so i don't know what to think about them.

and.. i may be curled up into a ball again tomorrow morning.. because between night and day it cools down.. a lot. and that little blanket doesn't do a thing.. unless i take the form of a ball.

somebody called me crazy. and not a good kind of crazy.. i asked. you know the good kind.. the 'damn sire you crazy!' that's the good kind. but apparently this person wasn't referring to the good kind. i never really found out what kind of crazy she was talking about though.. because i started talking about hannibal lecter crazy.. so i hit both extremes.. and it was neither of those. and there's no such thing as neutral crazy.. it's either the good kind or the bad kind.. and i don't know which it is she was talking about. but if i were to call myself crazy.. it would have to be the good kind. the 'damn sire you crazy!' kind.

something from 2005:
i've discovered a new unit of power. whale power. much better than horse power. 'how much whale power you got under the hood?' then i'll say, 'oh.. you know.. 1.'

and later that year:
i'm fucking funny... you wish you could fuck funny.



i go back and read this stuff now.. and yeah.. i write some weird shit.

aristotle II: BFF's

yeah. me and aristotle are cool now. you're supposed to take notes or something when you read his translated writing because the translators want to raise his smartness level to some wild number.. a number that if you try to even think of it the two halves of your brain will shoot out of your ears. i tried thinking about it.. i'm not going to try that anymore.. and that's all your professors want right? for students to stop trying? yeah!

i just looked it up and a male dog is like a 'sire.' i'm going to start tossing that around to give it a negative connotation.. kind of like 'bitch' has.

bart: aw. me and santa's little helper used to be a team, but he never wants to play anymore since his bitch moved in.
marge: bart, don't ever say that word again!
bart: well, that's what she is. i looked it up.
marge: well, i'm giong to write the dictionary people and have that checked. feels like a mistake to me..


yes. i returned that crappy pedal and got a classical guitar. now i can expand my awful playing to less trashful sounding sources. the lady at the pawn shop was cool though.. she knocked off $10 for the guitar.

i somehow ended up at the polish youtube.. and i was really confused.

shaq is a total sire.. or actually no.. he's the opposite of a sire.. and no. not a female dog.. but you know. like a funny funny individual. i could totally live inside his leg or something. and he got his special sheriff's badges taken away because of the language he used? that's totally not cool. if i ever commit a crime.. the last person i want on my ass is shaq. and if he's using expletives and other such vulgar language toward me that'll cause me to shit my pants.. just look at the way he dominates the paint with his spin moves and.. meaty back pushing... he calls himself the big aristotle.. that's a pretty good tie in.

the dirty french novel aristotle wrote.

aristotle is a dick. like.. if i were back in the old timey days with him.. i'd totally call him a dick. 'hey.. aristotle. you're a dick.' and he'll say.. 'we argue from or to first principles.' and i'll get pretty angry at him because he somehow italicized words he was saying.. you're supposed to be greek.. and then i'll call him a mother fucker. and he'll say something really dickish after that.. like.. 'but let us resume from the point at which we digressed.' and then i'll make my best attempt at tackling him.. probably with a single leg type thing.. and we'll get into some sort of scuffle. he'll probably win though.. i'll punch him in the beard and my hand will get stuck or something. don't ever send me back to ancient greece.. i'd hate to have to tell people i was the guy that got beaten up by aristotle..

i'll force myself to read this thoroughly tomorrow.. because today while i was reading.. the stupid words just turned to mush after a couple lines. my brain isn't telling me directly.. but it's saying.. 'you can stay.. but i'm outta here.' i read this stupid paragraph like 4 times.. and i still can't figure out what he's talking about. but when i do figure it all out.. tomorrow... i'm totally going to go back in time to punch aristotle i the liver instead of the beard. the nicomachean ethics.. ha!

so that philosophy teacher told us that we're afraid to be alone with our thoughts.. yeah.. we should be afraid. i mean.. my thoughts are calling aristotle a dick. and no.. he's not a dick. he just talks in this really proper way so that me the retard gets confused. i'm not affraid to be alone with my thoughts.. the stuff that comes out sometimes is just weird though. i could probably rewrite that sentence.. but i'm not.. and right now.. my thoughts are telling me.. maybe aristotle isn't the dick.. it's the translators.. yeah. they can translate it so it reads nicely. so it's their fault. they're dicks.

it always starts with name calling..



and this was rather surprising:
'apparently we will always meet again. this is the peaceballoon. thanks for being mystified. :)'

i don't remember being mystified..

27. or so.

please kill me does not fit in the smaller briefcase. that means... i'm going to read faust.. and this time i mean it. even if my brain explodes from the massive amounts of intellect i'll be recieving.. i'm going to read it. it's thin and it fits in the briefcase. so that's what i'll read. in a way. it's a lot like please kill me. it has a cast of characters.. certain characters are assholes. and the others are pretty good. like edie sedgwick.. i totally thought she was a guy. but upon further reading i found out i was wrong. this is what happens when you read a book without pictures. throw in the song 'femme fatale.' which was written about her, and i've been obsessed with her for the past hour. it all fits together so nicely. it was a bit of a downer to find out she died at 28.

man... ENG105. at least i'll be bigger than the other kids in the class..

cookies... are great. especially ones with m&m's in them.. or bootleg m&m's.. so i'm guessing m&m's are strong enough to not explode due to extreme heat. i should totally leave a pack of m&m's in my car.. so the insides melt and get really really hot.. and then eat them.. and burn my mouth. and sue the m&m company for more m&m's.. but only if one of those m's is money.


oh right.. that's why i've been so fascinated by the number 27.. and i thought it was because it had a bunch of 3's involved with it. i should stop trying to fine tune the volume so it's exactly 27. loud is now loud and not 27. i'm almost certain numbers are going to get me killed.

i have no idea.

i really need to write this down before i forget..

but i just had a dream where i was being chased by a fat guy on a bike. and the fat guy looked like will sasso. or it was will sasso. i don't know. but we both had bikes. and i we were in a parking lot. and i was making all sorts of fancy moves to not crash into the nice classic cars. but that's what caused will sasso to catch me. and maybe the weirdest part about it was this was supposed to be some sort of circus maximus type thing. and stephen colbert was the guy who was in charge.. and will sasso was riding mr. colbert's bike. and it was blue for some reason. my bike was also blue. but i had one of those old looking bikes.. not the ones with the big wheel in the front but something from the 50's. but when i finally crashed and got caught because i pulled an extra fancy move to avoid hitting this old beetle.. we went back to sit at a big table to go on with a meeting. and mr. colbert decided to put the bikes up on ebay and command 'the nation' to bid on it. because that would be like.. a million bids. i then made fun of the way his bike looked.. and how it was blue. he had one of the fancy new ones.. it was probably a huffy. because that's the only brand of newer looking bike that i know.. then my alarm went off. what a strange strange way to start my day..

hey.. psychologists.. or psychiatrists... one of you. what the hell is that supposed to mean?

grey light.

susan pile: people did strange things when they did speed. there was one guy who showed up at max's kansas city with his arm in a sling. everyone was like, 'what happened to you?' he said, 'oh, i took a shot of speed and i couldn't stop brushing my hair for three days.'

so if i ever have hair that requires intense brushing i know exactly what to take. but my hair doesn't need intense brushing. it needs an occasional trimming.. or cutting. one of those blade type verbs. the 'ing' makes it some weird verb.. i don't know what it's called though. but the light in the sink area is all broken. so i had to cut the excess hair around my ears in this half light which makes everything look grey. i forgot to cut the hair around my ears last time. i've been forgetting things a lot lately. maybe it was something i ate.. or something i didn't eat. but i really had to cut it.. it was bothering me. how do people with long hair keep that from happening? and people with semi-long/short hair i have no idea how you keep it from not bothering you.. i don't know what i'm talking about. but it's cut now. the grey light was pretty awesome. i clamped down on my ear once with the scissors.. that was fun.


the susan pile thing is from please kill me. if you want upper case letters.. buy the book.

light.

today is less hot than yesterday. i can't really read my thermometer.. the celsius scale looks so much better though.. even if i can't read it right. but when i went to get the mail my feet felt less like they were getting baked.. yeah. i got the mail barefoot. that's how i do things.. except that one time i stepped on glass.. taught me a lesson for about 2 weeks. then i don't know where i put my flip flops. it's either less hot.. or my feet have created some sort of heat barrier in a single day.. they still felt pretty awful though.. and then they felt so good once i got back inside. and then that thing where everything turns green happens.. light is rather perplexing.

diary of a lover.

who do i know that lives in new york... well.. besides all the famous people from that area that i don't really know.. but i've seen them on tv and stuff. that doesn't count.. but i have a johnny thunders song stuck in my head. guess which one? don't be a retard.. he's from new york. the only problem with that is.. he's dead. i know somebody from new york is reading this.. i can only hope its somebody famous.. like.. conan.. you've really turned unfunny recently.. or maybe it's because i'm watching your show during the daytime. i don't know. but i'm not laughing. and even the whole freakishly orange act isn't making me laugh. and if for some reason conan the barbarian is living in new york and reading this.. hook me up with some star metal. snakes are pretty creepy. especially the ones that look wet. i don't know.. the dryer looking ones aren't as scary. like.. rattlesnakes. not so scary. so add that to the list of things that scare the shit out of me.. wet looking snakes. put them right next to hairy spiders.. and i guess a hairy snake would be pretty scary.. put that one on the list too.. but not wet spiders.. that's like.. lobster or something.

'oooh.. i love her so/even though/we just met/maybe i'm foolish/but maybe some things/are meant to be..'

and this is from a guy who cross dressed and loved his heroin.. and i mean really loved his heroin. and he'd yell at his fans while he was on stage. and he would spill more than i could drink. and he has another song.. 'you can't put your arms around a memory.' that one's not stuck in my head right now.. but that's exactly what today's music is missing.

i get fiction and non-fiction mixed up. so... i waste about 5 minutes walking from the wrong section to the right section whenever i go to a library. or if i know i want some.. fiction. i think that's right. i go to the side of the library with all the books with elves on the covers. my teacher didn't want me to read the electric kool-aid acid test when i was in high school.. i was drawn to it by the kool-aid part.. i can't even remember what i ended up reading.. i think it was a book about donnie brasco. somebody spilled coffee or something on it and i had to smell its mustiness and read its slightly browned pages for the next couple of weeks. i think i'm blending things together though. but i do remeber SSR.. 'sustained silent reading.' or something like that.. for 20 minutes we have to sit there and read. and we'd have these really screwed up class times because of those 20 minutes.. like.. 49 minutes in this class. and then 53 in another one.. it was weird. but when i did read.. i read some pretty good stuff. none of that school assigned crap too.

'don't be too sad when you're waiting for death.' idle race is pretty good too.

maybe that's my problem. i only remember single lines of songs.. so all i can produce is single lines.


it sounds really frantic. like bacteria reproducing through binary fission. i'm going to make it sound like that. so it'll sound really frantic. like bacteria reproducing through binary fission.

yeah.. why not.

so. at first it didn't look like much.. but when i actually saw it.. it was like.. yeah. that's a lot. but why not?

so my hair has reached the length where it slaps me in the eyeball when i run. the slightly longer or shorter ones stab me in the eye.. that stings a little.

'she had eyes too blue/to stare directly into' and then the song goes graghahguarahgahghggg.... followed by 'too too pretty.'

i don't know where the cusp is.. but i'm on it.

oh yeah.. that stupid guitar. apparently connecting loose wires that should be connected isn't part of its plans. which i think is just weird. it's like having a toilet to piss in.. but you decide to use the bushes.. maybe it's not like that. but i went back inside the crappy guitar trying to get it to work again. and what i found out is that the blue wire that i so carefully slathered solder all over.. yeah. that wire didn't want to be connected.. not to the bottom side of the tone knob. or the little switcher device or the volume knob.. and it didn't even want to be touched.. so i was like.. 'fuck you blue wire.' and i cut it. with the red handled scissors on my desk. and the guitar is back to producing sound that only this piece of shit can produce. yeah. it's probably some stuff about grounding or some fancy guitar/electronics stuff i don't understand. but problem solved. i cut that mother fucker. shanked it. if this were prison i wouldn't need to worry about being raped because i killed somebody. uh.... no. i'll leave that the way it is.

i don't know. i've been coming up with some pretty good one liners. and i write them down when i can. all i need to do is mix them all together and hope it all sounds nice.

is somebody reading this? because... by brain just turned off.

new wave.

uh.. ok. so i opened up my old guitar.. and i noticed two wires were loose. and i thought.. 'ok. this is why it's such a piece of crap.. my chinese brothers and/or sisters didn't solder down the wires.' so i looked up the wiring schematic.. and then i got confused because it was in black and white. and i'm dealing with a blue wire, black wire type situation. so don't ever let me deal with any time bombs. and you'll find out why soon enough.. so i soldered down the blue wire where it looked like it went.. and then i stuck the black wire in some other place that looked good. i hooked up the guitar.. and it still sounded like the same piece of crap with the tone knob not working.. so i was like.. you mother fucker.. because i really didn't enjoy the heat from the soldering iron.. and the fact that i melted the plastic around the wire and some weird brown residue on the guitar which made the air smell for a bit. so yeah. that wasn't cool. and that 30 minutes of effort i put in was now wasted.. so to get it all back.. i completely tore apart the guitar. i pulled everything out of it. and in the end.. what did i find? i found out that the black wire is some mystery wire that leads into a hole in the guitar were i can't get to.. so it;s like a worm. or it's trying to be like one. which you know.. again isn't cool. because i don't want that thing to asexually reproduce on me. i think that's the right word.. but yeah. so i finally gave up after about an hour and a half of random wire soldering. and now.. the guitar doesn't work at all. i don't know what i did to make it not work.. because all i did was pull out the mystery wire.. and it wasn't even connected to anything to start with.. so you know what? this guitar really is a piece of crap. click here to see what i'm talking about. and if you're into that stuff. and you have no questions for me.. please place all $75 in a sack with a dollar sign on it and give it to me.

i should totally make myself available to marrying strange foreigners so that they can get their green cards. and now that gay marriage is legal.. that would be like.. double the clientele. yeah.. win. win. win. i also resolved a conflict.

i ate some stuff out of a can today. i don't know.. it was something to do. pork and beans. and corn. but if i really wanted to do it right.. i'd wear the can on my head after i've emptied them out. i didn't do that though.

who do i know in alaska? i don't know anybody in alaska do i? i want to say i know a stephanie from alaska.. but that's just a song. oh. and maybe even a caroline. but that one is also a just a song.

ok. this past school year was awful. ever since i got that stupid letter from chi epsilon i've been assing it up. it's like some good curse.. that's bad. but also good. like that thing from the simpsons.. where homer goes to that strange store to buy bart a birthday present and everything ends up being cursed.. cursed frogurt would be pretty good on a hot day like today. or you know.. walking around in the nude like you own the place.. i did neither. fortunately. but i got a whole bunch of B's.. which i think is terrible since you know.. the stuff is pretty easy. no more of that.. no no no no no more..

'i fell right into the arms/venus de milo.'

my mom asks me how to spell things sometimes.. i give her the spelling. but with extra letters. she never adds the extra letters for some reason. which makes me think she already knew how to spell the word. i mean.. she asked how to spell technology. so i said.. t-e-c-h-n-o-l-o-g-y-y-y.. there's three y's i said.. she wrote technology though..

i should fill my head with a bunch of demoralizing thoughts... i forgot how to spell 'thoughts' for a second there.. but yeah. fill it with demoralizing thoughts. because there's that thing. 'in order to become whole. one must first be broken.' sure it that stuff isn't allowed in thermodynamics.. entropy or something like that.. but fuck the laws of thermodynamics.. and fuck the laws of physics. i read through tao te ching a bunch of years ago and that was the thing that stuck with me.. that and be a lazy retard so nothing is left 'undone.' yeah.. 'hurry go round' is playing. i listened to it a lot in high school. and a towel and a doorknob shouldn't be the tools you used to kill yourself. and you know what.. you're the reason i went and bought that piece of crap guitar.. although very very sexy.. it sounds like and ass full of mud instead of shit. it's just not comfortable. but do rest in piece.. or get angry and haunt me. either way is cool with me.

i'm going to read please kill me again.. because after reading that i was pretty brilliant. with such super geniusness that all the other nerds had no idea how this delinquent was kicking their ass. here's how it starts:

lou reed: all by myself. no one to talk to. come over here so i can talk to you... we were playing together a long time ago, in a thirty-dollar-a-month apartment and we really didn't have any money, and we used to eat oatmeal all day and all night and give blood, among other things, or pose for these nickel or fifteen cent tabloids they had every week. and when i posed for them, my picture came out and it said i was a sex maniac killer that had killed fourteen children and tape-recorded it and played it in a barn in kansas at midnight. and when john cale's picture came out in the paper, it said he killed his lover beacause his lover was going to marry his sister, and he didn't want his sister to marry a fag.


so i read through the first couple pages again.. it's such a wonderful book. that's what the cashier said. she read it for some paper she had to write. and she also liked my screwed up jewelry. i was shocked by the compliment.. because before her.. only old people would say anything about them.

'let me guess.. you really like skulls.'
'uh... yeah.'

i think i was buying orbit gum.. or a red bull. if it was a red bull.. i probably urinated for about minutes a while later.

and from people who work at mcdonald's..

'i like your rings.. reminds me of guns and roses..'
'uh.... thanks.'

she didn't even give me any free food.. which i will now call 'frood.'

but please kill me is a great book. and i'm still working making a shirt like richard hell. and his polka-dotted shirt he has on the cover of blank generation is totally new wave. i need to get more clothes like that. the old new wave. there's a calvin and hobbes comic strip about being new wave.. i can't find it right now though..

hesitating.

the lakers lost. and i mean they really lost. if you're ever going to lose anything.. do it like the lakers. because you'll be sure that you lost. even with all sorts of what if's.. you'll know you lost it. some pretty good basketballery by the celtics though.

tom verlaine had a jaguar. i don't know what a marquee moon is but it sounds so good.

don't you be so happy.
and for heaven's sake.
don't you be so sad.

always keep that in mind.

eyeball.

if you ever come across the explorer's club.. purchase their little thing that they're selling. the disc with music on it. that thing. and listen to it. the only time i saw them was in the backyard of this one guy's house. and i totally thought the explorers club was supposed to be the band with all the lesbians in it and the gay guy on drums. but i was wrong. but that homosexual only band did a pretty good cover of x's 'white girl'. but if you can track down 'forever' by the explorer's club.. it's a pretty good song. it's been on tv shows that i don't watch.. so uh.. i don't know what to say about that.

i stepped on the scale. and i magically weighed 5 pounds more than normal. but tomorrow morning. or maybe a bit later than the morning. i'll magically weigh the usual amount. i've said magic is great before right? uh.. both normal magic. and magic johnson. they're both great.

have you ever stared at something so long that it looks like it's vibrating? it's really weird. but then again.. what isn't weird. i've always felt a bit weird. seeing as how i have this incomplete siamese twin that only managed to get a toe out. yeah. that makes the schizophrenia a bit easier.. or it gives me an excuse for things like that. but i have no idea what it's like to have exactly 10 toes. and if i get the extra part chopped off.. then things will start feeling really weird for me. because all i know is having 11 toes. i mean.. just try gluing your two smallest toes together for an hour.. and you'll feel really weird about it. but if it's me.. and you chop off the extra one.. that's when i feel weird.

yeah. i've been listening to american beauty. and i always thought the grateful dead played really extreme drug music before listening to this. or i mean.. some people would call this drug music for some reason.. but i don't. in fact.. i don't know what to call this. i have my own labeling system for the music listen to. this probably fall under the 'bottomless pit falling music' category. but no.. other people have some really weird ones. like.. for hole class. somebody put 'lo-fi ghost folk' under the genre.. what the hell is ghost folk? if i lived in a haunted house with ghost musicians i'd probably know.

and speaking of hole class. they're good too. it has.. beth or something from times new viking. and some other guy.. from some other band that i can't remember. uh.. yeah.

i had some tuna today. chicken of the sea? no. bumble bee.. what kind of name is that for a company that makes canned tuna? that's the only thing i know they sell.. and it doesn't make any sense to me. a lot of things don't make any sense to me. but i go with it. and then a couple days later it all makes sense. or it still doesn't and i say.. fuck it.

somebody's trying to get into my head or something. i'm perfectly fine with that.. but i probably wouldn't recommend it. i have this very strange view of the world.. if you couldn't tell already. but i know somebody's trying to do some shady stuff. and not like.. eminem type shady. i'd be terrified by that. i remember listening to that when i was in high school. and it was like.. i can't even remember. but it was that one song about stan or something. now i can't even remember what i was going to say. uh... i warned you or something like that.

there are 3 ritz crackers left. but i couldn't eat the 3 ritz crackers i had left.

i'm going to try and sleep earlier. and i'm going to try to learn some music theory. and this time i mean it.

i was thinking they screwed up by making the volume knob way too close to the tremolo bar.. because i've been smashing the two together while making noise. but no. that's how it's supposed to be. and you're supposed to make it so they don't rub up against each other when you play.

i wish i could lay in my bed and listen to music all night. but i end up falling asleep.

'She took a small silver wreath and pinned it onto me/She said this one will bring you love/And I don't know if it's true/But I keep it for good luck'

vashti bunyan says goodnight to us all. but before that.. lou reed is telling us about heroin.

bread.

ok.. i fucking love bread. i'm almost certain that i'm part duck.. i mean. donald duck.. duck tales. i think those things are great. i mean. if i could walk around pants-less and get away with it like they do.. i'd totally do it. but society has these standards.. or something. and it's not cool if you walk around without pants.. unless you're a little chinese kid and you have those pants with the big hole in it so you just shit and piss in the streets when you need to. see... that's thinking. any parent who lets the city take care of a baby's shit is a thinker. you probably don't know about those pants.. but i saw them when i was in china.. the kid must've been freezing in the crotchal area. yeah. i make up words sometimes.

halfway through my bread. the beatles song 'her majesty' is playing again. i think i'll pick up my guitar for a while.. no... things aren't sounding right. and i feel weird. but that song is great. one day i'll do exactly what it says. although i don't drink wine..

i thought of the most brilliant line while running. it was so brilliant that i had to stop and write it down before i forgot it. so.. i wrote the words down.. but the sound part.. i forgot. and being the retarded musician that i am.. i wouldn't even know what to write if i knew what i was talking about. you know what.. forget it. i'll figure it out later.

the lakers won. but they did it in a real ass fashion. did you see lamar get all tough? he's gangster no? NO! he's gangsta.. and maybe even gangstuh. but i'm not exactly sure what those last two acutally mean. but i could care less about the outcome of the games.. i just want to be entertained. and lamar.. you're one entertaining mother fucker. your lack of eyebrows still freaks me out. kobe bryant isn't that good. seriously. his head has a really weird shape to it. that also freaks me out. and sam cassell.. how the hell do you spell your last name.. and you have one of the weirdest head's and faces i've ever seen. and boston.. can we get that glen 'big baby' davis in the game? i love fat people.

a combination of bread and just the right songs playing on shuffle.. make this rather enjoyable. 'bad news bad news/came to me where i sleep/turn turn turn again..' bob dylan is also one entertaining mother fucker.

so like i was telling my dad.. can you relax? it was a rhetorical question.. and i totally spelled that right on my second try.

the fan is making me too cold.. but the warm radiant moonlight is making me hot somehow. i would stand up right now.. but i'd probably damage my headphones and the little jack thing that it's plugged into. so i unplugged it and stood up. and threw on the super awesome oversized orange thing that i chopped up and sewed back together.. it's pretty crooked.. but it's also pretty awesome. it's orange. how can you go wrong with something that's orange? you don't see it there.. but both times i typed orange.. i forgot the 'n'. orage. that's like.. when o's get pissed.

and now my mouth is extremely dry from eating large amounts of bread. try and tell me bread is gross.. try it. i'll throw a loaf at you and then punch you softly in the neck. and your bread enjoyment level will decrease slightly.. but since you already don't like bread you'll thank me.


you're welcome. too late!

apple juice.

what am i thinking.. 'holy shit. we have apple juice!'

yeah... i drank it.

i just thought of something else.. but it's a secret.

and look.. i think i fixed my shift key. and this time it's really fixed. well.. you can't really tell. OR caN You!?

alaskan.

all i can say about the lakers is.. they know what they're doing. they're professionals. if they want to lose.. then that's their problem. not ours. you don't get paid millions and zillions of dollars if you don't know what you're doing. so hey. lakers fans. relax. i'm sure it's all part of some elaborate scheme.. one of those i love lucy type ones that require some splaining.. but you know.. everybody who wanted boston to win is probably shitting out happiness because they feel so good about the win. yeah. that sounds pretty reasonable. because if a dog pees when its happy. humans probably go poop. dogs and humans are opposites right?


yeah.. i don't know what the hell is going on. and i blame the new guitar pedal. it makes me dizzy. or it's something else.. i don't know yet.

the 13th.

dude..



what the hell?

i can't think of anything else.

finals. the final part.

there are two ways to say smoke in 'chinese' for some reason.. i put quotes around the wrong word. but you can figure it out.. you're smart right?

me: 'can i go outside and smoke a couple packs?'
mom: 'no.'
me: 'i said packs.'
mom: 'no.'
me: 'so i can smoke inside?'
mom: 'no.'
me: 'so.. can i go smoke?'
mom: 'no... even if i say yes you still can't.'


what was in my head after finishing the concrete final? caroline says II. just the last part though..

she put her fist through the window pane/it was such a funny feeling/it's so cold in alaska/it's so cold in alaska...

my brain was releasing all sorts of weird chemicals..




'i'm going to kick you so hard that there's going to be an imprint of your ass on my foot for a week!'

finals.. finals.

this is like those old timey executions.. not the guillotine type. but the kind where 12 people take aim and shoot you. so you know what? maybe i'll take up smoking today.. because when i get killed.. i want a cigarette in my mouth. and when i get shot in some slow motion dramatic fashion.. the cigarette will fall out of my mouth. and it'll hit the floor. and the ashes will splash upon the ground.. followed by my body and large amounts of blood. i may be dead.. but it'll look damn good.

finals. a couple more parts.

i have this lamp in my room from when i was little. there's this elephant thing on there.. but when i was little i had no idea it was an elephant.. i thought it was some weird blob with eyes.. that had a frog man for a nose. apparently the frog man was the trunk. but yeah. you wind that 'elephant' up and it's a small world will play in a very childish fashion. so that gets stuck in my head pretty easily.. which it is right now.. oh. and there's also a giraffe-like thing.. it's decapitated now.. i think the head is somewhere.. but i don't feel like checking. and there's.. i'm guessing it's a hippo with flowers growing out of its body. i don't know. maybe it's a pig.. it's pink. and it has a mushroom for a head. and it has this sly smirk.. like it just farted and you think it's someone else.

"...and Los Angeles fans screamed "Boston [Stinks]" every chance they could."

i'm pretty sure it was sucks.. what's so bad about sucks? i mean.. they're leaving it open as to what is being sucked. for all we know it could be.. 'boston sucks championship rings.' you know. crazy sports fans are nice like that right?

finals. 'pretty soon!'

i can hear gases. they are describing to me how they smell.. because right now i can't smell a thing. and tomorrow.. when i turn off my ears.. i'll be able to smell the answers. oh yeah... that smells right. an area of 6.63 in². and... it smells like.. some sort of slender column.. and this one smells like teen spirit. let's just hope the final isn't all fresh and warm with the scent of printing toner.. because i'll probably be pretty light headed after 2 minutes of sniffing for answers if that's the case.. i bet dogs are wasted 80% of the time. look at this one use a raccoon head to inject rabies.


i should thank the state of indiana.

finals.. some other part.

za3aa. my shift key is broken. THaT WAS ME trying To pRy it off MY KEYBAORd.. and i don't KNOW how I hit The 3. and this is me.. tesSTING it. Looks Like It works. No? not quite. NO/? maybe.. wait.. am i supposed to be using the right shift for anything? because i never touch that key.

and abraham lincoln scares the shit out of me..

finals. part.. the number i had last time plus 1.

'if i could inject something into my ass to make me more powerful.. and more angry.. i'd probably do it too.'

lots of writing for this report. and a small amount of studying for the other stuff.. that's the mummy's curse. or some other monster's curse. frankenstien.. he wasn't a monster.. but he sure did have a curse.. or i can't remember that book. the creature is awesome though.

this shirt has these random buttons that don't button to anything on the sleeves.. i don't get it.


geotech.
concrete.
water supply.

finals. part.. between 3 and 4. something romantic.

this band is called root bear. they have an album.. or lp. or ep. or a three song collection that appears on a single musical media type thing.. they called it something romantic. why didn't i think of that? i should probably work on a song before i work on an album. stupid marble covered composition book is just full of so much shit these days.. bad shit. not like the guy on tv that said.. 'man.. this is good shit!' that's good shit.. and he was talking about a boxing match.

i'm going to sleep. that's something romantic.

finals. part 3.. i think.

dear lakers.. and maybe even a little bit of the celtics.

if i happen to get those stones you get from holding your piss.. you better pay my medical bills. i want to say they're gall stones.. no.. kidney stones. but i'm all confused. are they called kidney stones because they're shaped like kidneys.. or is it because of some kidney related activity. but yeah. i was holding my piss because you (the lakers) decided to make the game interesting by not acting retarded. and the other you (the celtics) decided to not slice up the lakers and bury all their different body parts in different locations.. like the head would be in china.. the legs in italy. the funny bone in siberia. and the testicles on the moon. because no person or team will ever make that sort of run if their testicles are on the moon. all that lack of gravity will make things feel really strange and out of place for them. and don't give me that.. 'why didn't you just go during the commercials nelson?' no. with the amount of urine i was holding back.. i could've filled.. some sort of small ocean. and of course.. i love commercials.. but they don't show commercials for children's cereal during basketball games.. so yeah. you two should stop with the whole rivalry thing.. and work on getting me some cereal.. good cereal.. not that bootleg generic stuff.. sure it tastes the same.. but i'd rather have captain crunch telling me.. well i can't remember what he used to say.. but stop dicking around and play basketball. and if you think what you're doing is basketball.. i can't do much about that. my version has lasers and rocket shoes.. just don't make me hold my piss next time.

you probably don't know me,
nelson.



but aside from that.. today is about that chinese guy that jumped into a lake to commit suicide. he was pretty upset with the government and we got these.. zhong zhi's because of him and crazy chinese people who thought they could keep a dead guy from rotting underwater. i like being chinese.

and tomorrow i have a final in chinese.. if i don't get attacked by a bear i'll get an A. i just have to make sure i don't glaze myself in honey before i leave tomorrow. and i'll be in good shape.. and winnie the pooh better not steal my honey.. that fucker.

my brother punched the left side of my head.. and somehow bent the right side of my glasses. or at least that's how i remember it.. because the left side of my head hurt. and then he fixed my glasses. but to be fair.. my head hit his fist pretty good too. so score one for me.

finals. part deux. the blow up.

finals week is also an asshole. so much shit comes out of it. this is just how i felt a couple years ago.. right before i went in the bathroom and decided to shave my head. and apparently i cut it up pretty good with the razor.. because my head was pretty stingy.. sting-y. like.. it stung. it was not cheap. and i had no idea until that hot water splashed up against my head. so that was cool.. but these days i've have things to keep myself from doing such stupid things. like.. uh.. the headphones wouldn't look right on a bald head.. they don't look completely right now.. but they'd look worse with out the hair. and then there's the thing about the summer. your head can get really hot in the sun. and that one song goes.. 'it's summer where we go/so let your hair grow long.' so no. i'm not going to cut my hair.. but i am going to cut my nails.. i don't know. all of a sudden.. i feel really tired. all of a sudden! i jumped into bed and slept with all my strength and saved the world.

she's classy. or she makes me think 'classic'.. i can't think of the right word again.

if i ever want to feel really bad and throw up a lot. i'd probably enter a mayonnaise eating contest.


the blow up. because i stuff my feelings in a box. a pretty crappy one too. so.. not yet. but soon. zoon if you're hip.

finals week. part one.

projects don't finish themselves because they're assholes. or lazy. one of those.

knowledge and other such things gained from studying however.. are less assholey.. or asshole-ish. as they simply leap into my mind like some hungry tiger when it sees poachers. but when i start bleeding from my ears and bits of my brain start falling out of my nose.. i think i should probably take a break.


dos projects.
dos finals to prepare for.
uno presentaciones.. to not prepare for.
uno other final to not prepare for because i know the chinese national anthem..



i really don't.

i can type 'retard' with one hand.

marquee moon just scared the shit out of me.. that hasn't happened before.

i'm going to listen to play pretend again.

we'll always meet again.

i don't remember where i first heard it. but when i did hear it i thought it was a great song. it was probably the band name that got my attention. the rise of the peaceballoon. i don't know what a peaceballoon is. and i don't know why it's rising.. but that's all it takes to get my attention. damn these walls are white. except the spot under my desk.. where i let my feet drag around against it. and being so fond of running around barefoot at home.. the wall is turning gray. and yeah.. i get distracted.

but this song.. we'll always meet again. has this.. xylophone thing. or i don't know what it is. some thing that makes xylophoney sounds.. but it might not be a xylophone.. and then there's the guitar. and some drums. and i'm pretty sure it's a girl that's singing. but all this is being recorded through some sort of shortwave radio.. uh... one that records. so it has a very nice sounding fuzziness to it. you know.. like if you go and look at van gogh's starry night.. that's the fuzziest thing you've ever seen and for whatever reason.. it looks like a punch to the liver. and punches to the liver are beautiful.

but with the good fuzziness. there's the bad fuzziness. i have a pretty good idea about the lyrics. something like.. 'we'll always meet again sweet darling. we'll always meet again. no matter what that jesus says. we'll always meet again. i remember...' that's the only part of the song i care about. because that's the part that was stuck in my head. i don't know where you'll hear it though. it's supposed to be off of something called 'tadpoles with legs.' but i don't know. it's some mystery album.

sitting in the hallway with makeup on my face.. and a dress covered and stuffed up under my jacket was somewhat awkward. oh. and the hair extensions.. i still don't know how those worked. but the dress was green.. thank godly.. i can't think of a word for thank god.. or no wait.. fortunately.. piece of shit brain.. fortunately is the word i was looking for. but yeah. green dress.. means it was very enviromnetally friendly. and i always leave out the 'n' in environment. it's like.. no! i took the 'n' out of environment.. and used it twice in my name. thrice if you count my middle name. but the same goes for other things that are green. i have these green blinds in my room. so they do a good job promoting.. some sort of earth friendly thing. and that guy that's green with envy.. yeah. he's envious.. but there's no greenhouse gases shooting out of him when he feels that way. who decided on green as the earth friendly color? how awesome would it be if it was blue? this shit is blue!!

and while you're at it.. find a movie called 'new york doll.' hendrix is playing machine gun and it's like stuffing candy in your ears.

my old writing teacher once said. 'every good writer has to be a little schizophrenic.' and he also said, 'times new roman looks like ass.' he also said 'fuck' a lot too..

there's a nelson syndrome. i tried reading about it.. but people like to sound really smart.. and i got confused. it was something about stuff happening after you had brain surgery or something.

that's the end of machine gun.

the goodnight loving are now playing.. is now playing... i'll talk about them some other time.

i should try really hard to get an ulcer going. because if i have that amount of stress.. i'm probably doing something right before finals week..

?

personality crisis.
jet boy.

and some other songs by the new york dolls.

she better bring me a nice dress. or at least the right color. none of that purple shit. purple is the color of the devil's ass.

hearts.

the heart is this weird thing in your chest that beats and moves blood and maybe does some other biological stuff that i don't understand. and then it also does other non-biological stuff.. metaphorical english stuff that i also don't understand. and i don't know what your heart tells you.. but all mine says is 'dup dup dup dup..' just constantly. i think it's retarded or something. forrest gump retarded. i need to pull it out and stick it on the drums. and as soon as i get the guitaring down. and get a bit more than one line of lyrics going. i should be in pretty good shape.. but instead of pulling it out i'll probably have to wire an amp to my chest. the whole pulling it out part could lead to a rather unpleasant situation.. just look at what happened to that guy in the temple of doom.. spoiler alert.. he got melted pretty good by some lava. and his heart said. 'fuck this. i'mmmm outta here.' and it burst into flames. that cult got a kick out of it though..

so i don't know. i'm going to hope that i have a dream where i play that presale hearts record that i bought in another dream a long time ago. that would probably answer some questions i have.. i just hope it's not like.. hitler's greatest speeches.. with the wrong label.. those would be all the wrong answers. i mean. sure.. some people may consider that music.. but i'm not like that.


i'm clenching my teeth again when i play stephanie says.. but the fingers are in the right spot now.

tape.

top ramen? i should be eating bottom ramen.. or something lesser.

i woke up with tape on my arm. how the hell did that happen? it was really sticky tape too. it was almost infused to my skin.


it's sunny again.

a better life (the weatherman knows).

'dear nelson.'

'dear nelson' made me laugh. not so much anymore. but when i saw that. it made my day. and today was fantastic. despite vomiting in the morning for some reason. and then going through a major caffeine crash. and then yawning and having the piece of gum i was chewing plop on my desk.. and in the afternoon i came this close to falling asleep while i was driving. hey.. it just felt really good to close my eyes.. what i ended up doing was close one eye.. and then shaking myself awake after the other one started to close. but yeah.

why was today so grey? and what song contains the lyrics.. 'the sun shines but i don't.' i'm thinking it's a vaselines song.. but i don't think that's right. the explorers club brightens up any day with their sunny sunshiney music.. even if i happen to be listening to them at night.


fiber rich meals or something.

bootleg morning sickness.

i just threw up. so at least something's working today. and something off of loveless is good shit. like that one guy said.. 'man. this is good shit.' but energy drinks actually leave a pretty sugary aftertaste when it comes back out. good thing i didn't eat anything yet.

top of the morning to you..

loveless wakes you up. loveless helps you sleep.

i'm switching out the velvet underground for some my bloody valentine when i drive. but don't get too caught up in the sounds.. or you'll crash.. it was those weird dives that kevin shields does in when you sleep.




..and the rest of the day to you.

turn in your project.

if you're going to be tired.. you might as well be really tired. so if your project just so happens to end up with 13 pages.. you don't stop there. you dig up so much additional information until your heart explodes from the amount of care being put into adding a few more pages just so you don't have 13. so you add in your calculations. and a couple more data tables that drive you nuts with the formatting.. so you bump up the page count to 19 somehow.. and then you remember you still need to add 6-12 pages of design drawings. you know what. fuck it. just like john lennon said.. 'when in doubt.. fuck it.'

so fuck being tired. fill yourself up with caffeine and feel a really strong urge to urinate a few minutes later. and when your eyes turn all lemony. you can make lemonade. her name was lemonade. but oh no! it's not lemonade. it's super glue. and your eyes are glued shut. and you're sleeping. and you wish you didn't close them.. because you're driving. and. WATCH OUT FOR THAT DEER! shit.. vagabonds! wait. there's a doctor.. !!! it's a zombie doctor. run run run.. or walk don't run. give the zombie a chance to crack your head open.. because all it really wants is a piece of your mind. and you'll say some wonderful line.. like.. 'here's your piece of the pi.' and you'll blow its head off with a shotgun. but since you don't have a shotgun.. you'll get all street fighter on its ass.. with a shoryuken! dragon punch that shit right off. saved the world from another zombie outbreak. and this time you're not one of the zombies. it feels pretty good. but oh no's! you forgot your flash drive. and that dick at brookstone just wouldn't let me leave because i didn't want a tan record player. 'how about this one.' no.. i'll get it some place else. but thanks. and that one time i was at yellowstone. when the tour guide kept urging us to quickly get off the bus.. i turned to dick jr. because i was like 7. and just pointed at him and said.. 'YYYYYYOOOOOUUU!!!!' i didn't know what it was supposed to mean. or what i would accomplish with that. but hey. he knew i was talking about him. it doesn't get any clearer than that. but even after that.. he still took me and the rest of the group to see old faithful.. if i were him i would've stuffed a couple hams in my bag just so the bears would get me. but you know. he wasn't like that. he was probably hoping i would fall in old faithful. stupid clockwork water shooting geyser.. yeah. tomorrow is going to be about feeling as awful as you look. and then once the clock hits 2:00pm.. you'll feel so great that you just might have another incident like the time in yellowstone. but something might be put before the 'yyyouuu!' lots of things can go there. use your imagination. there's the classic 'fuck you' and maybe the even classicer.. more classic 'i love you.'

oh yeah. turn in your project tomorrow.

maggot brain.

my hair is flaccid..

i just heard an ad on the radio for everc1lense.. the stuff sounds pretty gross. it's like.. 'shit out all that crap your digestive system leaves behind.. up to 5-20 pounds of shit will LLLAUNCH from your butt to the toilet if you take.... EVERC1LENSE!' they said it more medically though.. i bet if you take a whole lot of that stuff you could probably turn yourself inside out.. or some type of black hole type thing will happen.. or a brown hole. ok. now i feel gross.

i've stopped clenching my teeth when playing stephanie says. i guess that's an improvement.

vanishing act played as i was leaving. little things like those make me happy. but let's not forget about the big things. like texas. if texas doesn't make you happy something's wrong with you.

so yves saint laurent and bo diddley are gone...


maggot brain is fucking depressing..

concrete. part 3: sunday morning on a monday.

as a group we decided to let the concrete project finish itself. through magic. isn't magic great?

'shit.. sorry professor. we must've cast the wrong spell to get these wrong answers. i never read the harry potter books.. so i don't know how this stuff works. but now that you know that we can fuck things up with spells.. you better give us a good grade..'

no. i thought my hands were shaking. but they aren't. they feel like they are.. but when i look at them they aren't.. unless my head or eyes are shaking exactly the same way..


it's that feeling you get when you listen to sunday morning.

concrete. part 2.

there. music fixes everything. listen to twilight zone a couple times.. or i'm guessing.. like 14 times because you didn't want to get up and take if off the turntable.. but it fixes everything. can't find the area of the steel for the rebars in your concrete? ha. fuck the rebars. in fact. fuck the whole 60 story building. fill the concrete with enough love and it'll be indestructible. so instead of rebars.. toss in a couple speakers. play twilight zone constantly.. and that building will never go down. somebody else will put in the effort to keep the building up because one of the best songs to come out of fullerton is mysteriously playing through the walls.. because this genius decided that concrete is for the mafia. or pelicans from the flintstones.. pelicans are scary.


it's all wrong. but it's all right.
it's all wrong. but it's all right.
it's all wrong. but it's all right.
it's all wrong. but it's all right.
it's all wrong. but it's all right.
it's all wrong. but it's all right.
it's all wrong. but it's all right.
it's all wrong. but it's all right.
it's all wrong. but it's all right.
it's all wrong. but it's all right.
it's all wrong. but it's all right.