defectivejunk - defectivejunk

defectivejunk: A self-prescribed placebo

nospam@example.com (rushoffailure) — Tue, 05 Feb 2008 13:29:00 -0500

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

defectivejunk: Alta

nospam@example.com (rushoffailure) — Mon, 04 Feb 2008 23:16:00 -0500

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.

everyone hates me
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

defectivejunk: Metis

nospam@example.com (rushoffailure) — Mon, 04 Feb 2008 23:13:00 -0500

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

defectivejunk: socket to me

nospam@example.com (rushoffailure) — Mon, 04 Feb 2008 23:10:00 -0500

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

defectivejunk: Sick Day

nospam@example.com (rushoffailure) — Mon, 04 Feb 2008 22:35:00 -0500

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

defectivejunk: styrophoney

nospam@example.com (rushoffailure) — Mon, 04 Feb 2008 22:33:00 -0500

Amanita Muscaria

yoiu'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

am i hallucinating this or is it real

i'm packing my peanuts in packing peanuts
uh oh its someone on the other line

ly a dream

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

the blogosphere is a hive mind

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

defectivejunk: Uninspirational Thoughts

nospam@example.com (rushoffailure) — Mon, 04 Feb 2008 22:32:00 -0500

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.

Disclaimer: do not actually do that
(or any of this)

Labels: defectivejunk, Uninspirational Thoughts

defectivejunk: olive

nospam@example.com (rushoffailure) — Mon, 04 Feb 2008 22:31:00 -0500

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

defectivejunk: the adulterer's fine

nospam@example.com (rushoffailure) — Mon, 04 Feb 2008 22:31:00 -0500

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

defectivejunk: magenta

nospam@example.com (rushoffailure) — Mon, 04 Feb 2008 22:28:00 -0500

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

defectivejunk: toastmodern

nospam@example.com (rushoffailure) — Mon, 04 Feb 2008 22:27:00 -0500

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.

honk honk

Labels: defectivejunk, toastmodern

defectivejunk: I am thinking about work tomorrow

nospam@example.com (rushoffailure) — Mon, 04 Feb 2008 22:25:00 -0500

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.

Labels: defectivejunk, I am thinking about work tomorrow

defectivejunk: Slice Star

nospam@example.com (rushoffailure) — Mon, 04 Feb 2008 22:21:00 -0500

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

defectivejunk: it made sense

nospam@example.com (rushoffailure) — Mon, 04 Feb 2008 22:14:00 -0500

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

defectivejunk: self singularity

nospam@example.com (rushoffailure) — Mon, 04 Feb 2008 21:44:00 -0500

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