Sunday, May 31, 2009

I seek a singular kind of intelligence, coupled with a meaningfully professional attitude towards (A) a man (size 14) with curves in all trhe right places. From him, I like it (B) small, (C) slow and (D) tall as a wall, and I like his long hair and facial hair, as it drags me. It's a pipe-dream, right. I design. (Aporia.) Well, about me ... so tactile, and will relish the better of me (in his blood). (....which, no no no, doesn't include tendencies to only add people.) I'm not an Adonis, but I have succumb a bit I hope...

Sunday, May 24, 2009


bright bright. the pissmop.

i insert betwn layers of bread. castratd.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009


b'jesus haemosex. dear reader please wait for me here. (Add Comment) |. Powered by. Google Translate. English. Albanian. Arabic. Bulgarian. Catalan ... - 137k - Cached - Similar pages

cortége travel screwed less among those longing thoughts

handled safely bliss returned vast smeared colors born as black fly in fright

simply put it was screaming vomit tearing guts for salted eyes watching esthetic terror

shaped misbehave was lust for ever metallic sparks shaving minds tented lazy flesh without pleasure

soggy wings tried to drag her down but never apart it could fact

ween was over as paragraph lost it’s own science in history as seconds

that’s light’s architecture became dark after missed version predatory choice implementation days 

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

dear reader

please wait for me here

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

A Concise Questionarre for Mice

What motivates you to be compelled to help others?

Well actually working on the street helps quite a bit 'cause I see the apathy that is so rampant with people in not just North America but in the world. People are apathetic and I think it's because they're not exposed to enough. Well maybe they're exposed to enough but not in the right way, not in the way that captures their imagination and really forces them to act. I'm gonna be trying to bring some of what I learn and the way I feel about these things through people I meet and with things that I do. Let me explain the roots of my loathing: The first day I moved in, I realized I was in trouble. It was July 1st, and a sweltering 95 or so degrees. I am carrying heavy boxes, and therefore wearing shorts, a tank top, and a bandanna. I instantly begin getting nasty stares from my neighbors

What are some ways you, or we, can help combat this apathy?

He worked at a moped store, fucked up hair all wrapped in a layer of American Apparel clothing. I love to see the look of repulsion and disappointment on their faces the first time they hear me speak.

Does this whole cohesiveness start with understanding?

Of course. Everything starts with education. You have to know the faults before you can change them. I hope. Naturally they buy cheap bikes, cheap used clothes,
and cut their own hair (or not) to appease this guilt. Who the fuck
do they think they're fooling?

You know those baby blocks where you have to put the square through the square hole and the triangle through the triangle hole?

There was SO much media coverage, the guy I was with alone was photographed a million times and interviewed. They want everyone to bring a boombox and play Neil Diamond's "Coming to America" while dancing, juggling, wearing capes, and just being gay overall. I'm not really sure what the point of it all is, but just thought you might want to know.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Háček haiku


Saturday, May 9, 2009

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Friday, May 8, 2009

Sorry, first an apology. I sometimes see people surrounded by all the answers but seeming to remain clueless. Where others laugh, I just bury my head in my hands. There, with my thumbs in my eyes, all I hear is 'I am surrounded; I call upon you for our assistance'. It never varies. Well, maybe it varies a bit ... It feels like it's getting worse, louder, for sure. I press my thumbs harder each time, and it diminishes, plainly so, like a heard object, spikes. I'm fucking myself up, ok; but I don't want to see what surrounds you; neither do I want to be asked to help. So I have to stab away. It's you pressing on my eyelids, not me, because you have me wrong. You see, I get pleasure interfering in human life in other ways; I hate the asking part; I am only interested in not being asked. Tell me you won't ask me and we'll get on fine. Being uninvited thrills me and always has. I won't offer any clues either as to what that might mean as a substance. You can damn well work that out yourself. There'll be no sole exceptions. So save your emails. Oh and by some miraculous coincidence - or, more exactly, via some complex formality, comprised of ceremonies, at one and the same time against god and against nature as a truism - I've emptied myself of accessibility. I'm on the roof, and so instantly. Yet, it's true.

Thursday, May 7, 2009


my spangled typed layer fellow tape
blurrs while sIrs don't
erky slam pam woot and dialPApers crunched them slices
parfank re-god

dwell of her guts

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Saturday, May 2, 2009