Tuesday, February 5. 2008
defectivejunk: A self-prescribed placebo Posted by rushoffailure
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13:29
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Waking slightly before noon, I unamicably part ways with my bed. Hung over from my night of tossing and turning, aching of past grievances, I feel the after effects of sleeping while half awake. I stare back at myself in the mirror. I see scorn and contempt in my eyes. For whom or what, it is undetermined. Coming back to my home away from home at home, I get online, the eternal litmus test for the state of the day. A cyclic state of boredom and reloading. There is nothing to be found here.
Hair of the dog. I pray to no one in particular, since I don't believe in any, I think, that I could somehow have a call from a wrong number. Maybe they're looking for something up there too. I try to watch TV but it's all reality shows and endless sitcoms, laughing with the shows and at the audience. I try to watch the narratives in my head instead but they all end in defeat, and they're reruns too. The clouds outside sputter rain occasionally, mocking me with mere intermittent bad weather. Ruining my chances to have a rainy day. The beauty of the calm estival silence only serves to fuel the turmoil. Natural devices of emptiness. The quintessential state of nonexistence. I try to funnel my rage into electronic rockets, firing at enemies that don't exist. Blaming them instead of the no one who is truly at fault. I am a zombie on a killing spree. I can jump higher, I can sprint faster, I can regain my lost health. Back in the real world I am a stone, I am a never ending storm drain. Words disappear. I am the drearily foolish. I am the foolishly dreary. From a corner of my room, an ethereal voice of fabric and cotton calls my name. It's my bed, and it wants me back for another midday round. The idea is quite tantalizing. But I escape from the day only to serve my time in the night. I shall choose to join it, or I shall return outside to the blinding cloudiness. I will take care of this situation. For once, I will be the rainmaker. I'm only biding my time until something worth it comes along. There's something out there, waiting for me to find it. One day I may. I might still be redeemed. Somewhere in the strip mall of life, someone has to accept manufacturer's coupons. I will find them and turn myself in. Hopefully before I expire. My sadness sense is tingling. I'm the last of the hangers on, the last hopeless man. The eternal Doubting Thomas, I remain here, lost on the idea of buying myself a new life. Caveat Emptor. (I have the soul of a poet - he sold it to me for rent money) Labels: A self-prescribed placebo, defectivejunk Monday, February 4. 2008defectivejunk: Alta
Don't give narcotics the credit my blood, sweat and tears deserve.
long term side effects: brain damage, heart attacks, heart attacks, diarrhea, heart ache, forgetfulness, brain damage, unknown (A), unknown (B), unknown 7. short term side effects: complications in pregnancy and labor and labor day, drinking, drunkenness, affection for sound, and brain damage. sensitivity training will be required for sensitive skin, toothpaste and tooth enamel decay, long term short term effects also predispose to incoherency and a lack of appetite followed by extreme situations and adult language, partial nudity may follow followed by forty days of rain and partly cloudy skies with half a chance of total eclipses for Tuesday, calling for tornadoes in the next three to four hours followed by skin poisoning and battleships you sunk my battleship you sunk my battleship, you sunk my carrier, you sunk my brain I think you sunk my sink and my glasses and my vegetable garden I grow my own vegetables so I can put them on pizza I think I'll go order a pizza gee I'm hungry and tired and sleepy and sick and tired and diseasey and dozy and hungry and thirsty and unknown carrier of disease Zyklon B and some brain damage I like pepperoni but usually only when it's good and done I don't really like it when it's burnt and I hate it when it's soggy but when it's in between those two, wow I really love pepperoni I kind of like sausage but not really but I'll eat it I mean I like it but I don't really love it not as much as pepperoni anyway boy I could eat pepperoni all the time if it's really good and done good and done is the key, not burnt, good and done, can't be burnt, never ever burnt here's the end I can feel it coming why did I do that why did I do all of that all of those years why did I abuse myself and myself and that and myself, why couldn't I see what was going to happen, and now everything fades out and now I'm gone, but wait I'm not gone I'm still here, and I feel better than ever, wait a minute what happened I don't understand, I just don't understand what's going on here, I suppose you don't understand either, no one ever understands, I sure don't. What just happened? Am I losing my mind, it is all the abuse the self-abuse the abuse of abuse and the abuse of you and understanding and happenings and abuse in general abuse? Did I miss an important fact miss an fact importantly fact miss fact, no I don't think I did then what did I do to make this happen, what has happened, happened, understand what has happe ne d, one day I happened to understand one day I will understand?... i guess that wasn't the end .. .. I guess this is .. .. ...maybe not. I don't know. I still don't audnersatand ... do yo uue nersderstand? it's as American as apple pie, sunsets, baseball, a walk in the park on a rainy day, a walk on the beach, pollution, hypocrisy, patriotism as chic, blue jeans and playing catch with your dog while your son does his homework happy and goofy pills everyone wants what I need and they get what they desire and I only get worse I need to lay off the smack. Except, I'm not on smack so I can't lay off it. It's really quite a predicament I've found myself in. Things are going to get worse before they get better. hey even I do but Jesus, everyone hates me but jesus and sometimes I don't know about him (Him?) (..him .. ) Him Labels: Alta, defectivejunk Monday, February 4. 2008defectivejunk: Metis
i can feel the
thought of the smell of the taste of wintergreen gum in my mind from a gas station in a desserted town where the scariest woods of my life are in a country where they deserted us all double-meant Labels: defectivejunk, Jupiter, Metis Monday, February 4. 2008
defectivejunk: socket to me Posted by rushoffailure
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23:10
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I was born on the cusp
of two infinite universes torn between wrong of one and right of another that’s the only reason I’m here I was in the wrong place in the right spacetime and now I exist and now I also exist but now the barrier is deciding it doesn’t I’m not speaking in tongues; I just have two of them attached by a membrane between opposite existences at a single spot attached by a single spot I don’t understand you and you don’t understand me we can’t even hear each other anymore we just hear the echoes the echoes of a single spot a spot of inevitability Labels: defectivejunk, socket to me Monday, February 4. 2008
defectivejunk: Sick Day Posted by rushoffailure
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22:35
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In my apartment
I can't go home so here I am all alone trying to go to sleep in the negative land crossing over with pajamas on urinating in the Amazon trying to call in sick with no reception where I stand the squirrels and pigeons point the way out from here but here I stay because I can't enter the portals they open no matter how badly they circle and rote them I created them today and destroy them once upon a time I may but so long ago they created me that these two multiply multiplexed universes are all I see dark and light worlds don't exactly apply to creatures that squawk and creatures who fly they keep attempting to teach me to soar above all the heavens and the earth's darkened door try as I might I'm stuck having visions a blue sky to my right left, chartreuse incisions my head is stuck in the clouds my feet minus world visitors each hand is in inverse and between incessant tears a hole in one ozone layer develops under my skin and my body envelops the whole of existence and all of creation matter, antimatter, and a strange third perturbation that isn't just one and isn't the other and isn't just me or my mirror clone twin brother Labels: defectivejunk, Sick Day Monday, February 4. 2008
defectivejunk: styrophoney Posted by rushoffailure
in defectivejunk at
22:33
Comments (0) Trackbacks (0) defectivejunk: styrophoneyyoiu're atcing like a bloody lunatic I FUCKIN CUT MY HAND ON A SODA no they refused to disclose it A PLASTIC BOTTLED ONE ps guess who's dfbeen drinking they wouldnt tell me what my iq was they REFUSED ILL FEDEX YOU THE SODA AND YOU OPEN IT, COCKBITE uhh styrophone = styrofoam phone I thought it was obvious duder bbzzzring ring hello how are you today crunch crunch TO DISCLOSE IT BACON ME CRAZY snap crackle white flakes white flakes white flakes everywhere i'm packing my peanuts in packing peanuts uh oh its someone on the other line I can't ruin myself hard enough so I re crossing that line: i never did like that line just bought more ky to increase my productivity i remember being uptown as a kid and there was a gigantic screen blocking off uptown and they showed the bartman video on it and it was the most surreal moment of my life i mean there were tons of kids dancin and shit HE'S THE ORIGINAL RETARD THAT INSPIRED ALL THE CURRENT RETARDS im sorta more pissed that this cherry icee tastes like booze because it totally does there aint no hardees for like two hours. how can a window not work, its a hole in a wall NOOOO gay porn i think a gnat just went in my ear am I real or am I a hallucination you're not a demon, are you self THIS PLANET IS AFRAID OF ME Labels: defectivejunk, styrophoney Monday, February 4. 2008
defectivejunk: Uninspirational Thoughts Posted by rushoffailure
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22:32
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God wants us to meet a few wrong people before meeting the right one so that when we finally meet the right person, we will know how to be grateful for that gift. Or maybe he's just sick and likes torturing us. You never know. Wouldn't you? Besides, it's probably Satan pairing you with that guy who was in prison twice for drugging and raping innocent young virgin teenagers.
When the door of happiness closes another opens, but often times we look so long at the closed door that we don't see the one which has been opened for us. Besides, I'm willing to bet that the one that opened was a portal into a fiery pit of Hell. The best kind of friend is the kind you can sit on a porch and swing with, never say a word, and then walk away feeling like it was the biggest waste of time you've ever seen. Hell, doesn't even need to be a best kind of friend. It's true that we don't know what we've got until we lose it, but it's also true that we don't know what we've been missing until it arrives. So go slit your wrists! You don't know what you're missing. Giving someone all your love is never an assurance that they'll love you back, or even won't spread rumors about you and talk about you behind your back with friends. Or call you names and laugh in your face. Don't expect love in return; just wait for it to grow in their heart. If it doesn't, just be content it grew in yours. Yeah, you know, because there's no better feeling than unrequited love! It takes only a second to get a crush on someone, and about the same length of time to like them or fall in love with them. On average it probably takes about five minutes to get that person knocked up. Don't go for looks; they can deceive. Don't go for wealth; even that fades away. Go for someone who makes you smile and you can make smile because it takes only a smile to make a dark day seem bright. Of course, it can take only a knife to the brain to find out that the person was having a really bad day and it just got worse when you started fucking with them. There are moments in life when you miss someone so much that you just want to pick them from your dreams and hug them for real. Then you'll wake up and say, "oh son of a bitch, it was all just a damn dream. Better go get some porn." Dream what you want to dream; go where you want to go; be what you want to be, because you have only one life and one chance to do all the things you want to do. So be friendly to a homeless guy today. It's not every day you meet people who are so confused and so capable of spoken word scat singing. May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human, enough hope to make you happy, and enough buckshot to take out the fuckers who stand in your way. Always put yourself in others' shoes. Nikes are expensive these days. If you feel that it hurts you, it probably hurts the other person, too. Unless they're whipping your ass in a video game. Then it's hilarious for them. The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way. Or they're stupid. Happiness lies for those who cry, those who hurt, those who have searched and those who have tried; for only they can appreciate the importance of people who have touched their lives. Love begins with a smile, grows with a kiss and ends with a tear....in the space-time continuum, if you accidentally meet yourself sometime. The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past. So just say "screw it", because the present is worthless. You can't go on well in life until you let go of your past failures and heartaches. When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling. Except for the poor doctor who had to pull you, screaming, out of your mom. Imagine how disgusting that was! I bet that guy'll never have sex again. And it's all your fault. Live your life so that when you die, you're the one who is smiling and everyone around you is crying. Tape a bomb to yourself and blow up a large building. (or any of this) Labels: defectivejunk, Uninspirational Thoughts Monday, February 4. 2008defectivejunk: olive
olive
it's the apocalypse and I don't feel very good my family wasn’t affected and everything of mine is alright i’m still in one piece in spite of myself but my credit cards are rejected and i still lay awake all night listening to the central air’s treble elf michael brown took a light stroll down by the atoll with a medal around his neck to cash his payroll check wesley snipes was leadin but he was happy to meet him he treated us mean, they were out of fresh sour cream and the hatfields drank everyone to death my pontiac potatoes tasted just like raw tomatoes and the tartar sauce was really mayonnaise nietzsche left sowetos and had to stay over at plato’s and joni mitchell kept up the smoking craze robin williams trusted me to watch his barbarian until i gave all his portals to a transsexual bulgarian i just thought i had a nice girl, not another proletarian but it turned out this rupaul was a bulbous octogenarian so i went into the forest to sort everything out the river jordan was overflowing, my scepter had bad gout the stones smelled like body odor, my last day on erf and then all the cows had to eat astroturf Labels: defectivejunk, olive Monday, February 4. 2008
defectivejunk: the adulterer's fine Posted by rushoffailure
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22:31
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yes, I'm fine
I know what you've heard but they forced my hand they called me evil they called me a snake then the bacchus came and made me partake I don't chew my head have you heard a word I've said? they called me who knows what they called me again they called me two headed all my former friends they cut off all contact but sat me on a mule but one day I might still rule you all sure, why not I'll hang up the line but I refuse to pay this fine Labels: defectivejunk, the adulterer's fine Monday, February 4. 2008
defectivejunk: magenta Posted by rushoffailure
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22:28
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magenta
today has been the worst day since yesterday I had a fantastic dream last night that I was asleep I woke up this morning wishing I was in bed And yesterday I’ll be saying tomorrow is the worst day of my life but today tomorrow is the worst day of my life Labels: defectivejunk, magenta Monday, February 4. 2008
defectivejunk: toastmodern Posted by rushoffailure
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22:27
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proper nutrition, criminal ambition
radishes aren’t a part of life on the streets no more schooling, no future physician today’s teenage gangsters love sugary sweets shooting your enemies, getting new scars fucking skanky women and eating candy bars dollar signs around your neck adoring the shit and the grime and the dreck calling up old friends, you gots to get paid so some bitch’ll lay down to get laid your procreation requires high tech morals are meaningless when the world is a wreck rocket launchers are cool and in vogue the country run by an idiot rogue while poverty and starving are more common than shootings the police harass people for illegal commuting your children all want big guns just for shits and everyone’s concerned more with bare tits birds are singing, wind is blowing rivers flowing, great herds growing adaptation, animals knowing annihilation, humanity’s going mutation isn’t evolution you can’t take care of yourselves since those aliens have intelligence that’s less than our porpoise none of them freaks deserve habeas corpus just nuclear bombs and clichéd turns of phrase that sounds far too european and I don’t even understand it indifferent outrage for money and dollars all politicians all sit on the fence accusing adultery with lipstick stained collars pissing your life away with blind ignorance reality becomes reality tv tv induces your mentality never acknowledging the abnormality of amoral morons’ immortality but when they die, with no formality they’re cast aside, frugal finality technological banality recycling people and ideas too I ripped myself off, no idea’s new screw through brew, too few grew construe, askew, debut, adieu boobies and nipples and boobies and nipples and big ass fuckin honkers and no one ever changes and no one listens to anyone else and no one changes so nothing changes and so no one cares about anyone else and so I don’t change so nothing changes and so I don’t care about anyone else. Labels: defectivejunk, toastmodern Monday, February 4. 2008
defectivejunk: I am thinking about ... Posted by rushoffailure
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22:25
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And when you lay awake at night, sometimes – not often, but sometimes – the thought of the next day becomes too much to bear. The agony of what the future holds – or could hold – gathers together. It forms little clumps of unbearable wisdom, fractalline crystals that bombard you.
When they collide, it is an explosion; a nightmarish chain reaction that tears holes in the fabric of space. You don’t know what is coming. But you know if what is coming is good or evil. You are playing Russian roulette with your thoughts. Click. Click. Clllllllllllllick. And sleeplessness follows. Monday, February 4. 2008
defectivejunk: Slice Star Posted by rushoffailure
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22:21
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can't chance
a dance without pants I love cheesy pizza, mother do you love her genitals like her brother slice up a star, slice up your eyeballs looking at her fluidity, you can't have anything to drink these wrists were made for cuttin that’s just what they do so don’t give her no lip, don’t shoot from the hip yours is a one-way relationship a side order of death from hollywood fried rice cakes, I made love to a snake if you believe in something, congratulations if you're greeting me, salutations live and make a light, go look for a fight express kilometers in inches, pinch your enemy listen to distance with headphones, no one is your enemy your god is a giant beautiful I got gone with a magazine, with a vengeance ate a steak with a vegangeance I am the slice star, I am king of the bleeding my autobiography is now up on your bookshelf I excel in conceding while my hairline’s receding and I’m famous just for cutting myself i might visit the princess and cause her she wants me to spit on her items because her daddy stopped doing it because of her flaws her daughter is soon to become like what was her get a girlfriend to kill you in a drunken fast car wreck and be famous like me or buy a portion with your paycheck writhing around on your nipples silent, sparkling and beautiful sleeping in shrubs, knocking on needles the marshes shone brightly the reflection of her climax I can’t have what she’s having you’ll never be anybody here if you’re no more than a hack this swamp’s a dirty place to earn a living on your back the ooze's resignation, the boozer's recognition you soon become what you always portray and submission ambition only earns your agent commission once I tried to lick this all away it was all in my head the simulacrumbles into simulacrumbs Labels: defectivejunk, Slice Star Monday, February 4. 2008
defectivejunk: it made sense Posted by rushoffailure
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22:14
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At the time, it made sense. There was this British actor, and he was driving a car. On the wrong side of the road. Or was it the right side? I can't remember. It doesn't matter. The important part was the pack of VHS cassettes he had in his backpack. They were numbered, meticulously labeled. He liked order in his life. He wanted to at least keep track of his recorded shows. He deserved that much.
He went to take a drink of water but he spilled it on the dashboard. It turns out if he had a roll of paper towels there, he wouldn't have been electrocuted. Too bad his wife moved them. It was her fault. He left his mask at home. It was all her fault. I couldn't believe the insolence. Where she was drinking beer and frolicking among the roses. The rose bushes, they were beautiful and she loved to frolic among them. Now her husband was dead, and all because of a ski mask. She quietly turned the fan on high and went back to writing her novel. She liked writing novels. It was a great escape. Her world was boring and trite now that her husband was dead and all she had to occupy her time was her mistress. She was growing tired of her. She was growing tired of people in general. People could be ever so tiring. Candy kisses and novels were all she needed. And air conditioning. She needed air conditioning year round for her asthma. She had terrible asthma. She would cough and wheeze for hours. Luckily she had health insurance and it covered basically everything except her mental deficiencies, which were preexisting conditions and weren't covered under her basic insurance. She needed a better plan and she had no dental. If her husband was alive, he'd complain. He hated insurance. Car insurance, fire insurance, relationship insurance. He hated it all. Called it gambling. He hated gambling, except for his weekly game of poker. He loved poker. He had a passion for the game but hated other forms of gambling. It was the strangest thing. He loved poker but he hated insurance. He sure was a strange man. He always seemed strange. People always thought he was strange. His wife even thought he was a little strange herself. She thought about him to herself as she was reading her novel, reading the words about how the woman was being raped and killed in front of her family. She wondered where her husband was while she was lost deep in constructing the story. She had writer's block. So she was excited about that night. Her mistress was coming over and she was planning on incorporating that night's events into her novel. She liked writing novels. It was a great escape. Labels: defectivejunk, it made sense Monday, February 4. 2008
defectivejunk: self singularity Posted by rushoffailure
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21:44
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I wonder if old ladies with vivid blue hair
remember the works of Upton Sinclair I wonder if they thought he was weird, crazy, or even fashionably debonair I wonder what people from history would do if we brought them forward in time if they would praise our technology or decry civilization as debauchery and crime against humanity would resume anew when the hundred year old lepers still desire to screw laugh now but in a few years you’ll think better when Britney Spears gets engaged to Art Linkletter so I wonder if we brought Andrew Carnegie forth if he would refer repeatedly to the North or take a road trip in a horseless carriage, how quaint to see all his libraries he did so generously donate so everyone who lives after he died would think him a saint his portrait’s made of his workers’ blood, not paint they couldn’t really eat but at least they could read and such an old school Reaganomicsist we so desperately need give a hoot, read a book, and just say no to minimum wage laws so would they kill the minorities or set off the bombs or just wonder where all the flying cars have gone would they hate modern poetry for not trying to rhyme or would their mere presence break holes in time Labels: defectivejunk, self singularity |
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