It comes from all of your regrets. first the dust stifles you, gets on your skin, in your eyes nose mouth ears lungs. You try and scratch it off and out, but soon you see it's fairly useless - you can move it around but it will always be there. And then it just builds. and you have to sit down before you fall down, but then you regret sitting down, because you just have to stay there and become the host of what is mostly dead skin. look what you've done, you've made a monster.
Also it comes from stupid questions. But primarily it comes from an big dumb old invisible tree frogs. it also causes the changing of seasons. Snow - duh? I know this because I have spent the last three years and four million dollars hunting BOZ - that's his name, stands for Broke Outta the Zoo - like he's the Predator. And when I say hunting I mean both Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny Glover style, jungle and cityscape. But I think I need Carl Weathers. Unfortunately he has not responded to my emails. So if anyone sees Carl Weathers, send him my way. We'll get this whole dust and winter thing figured out.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Where does dust come from?
Friday, May 7, 2010
Cut from Reflection
My education is not self-affirmation -
affirming oneself mostly means masturbation.
I try to steer clear of the stroking and sucking -
I much more prefer to be poking and fucking.
Meeting the witness with monsters inside
bodes best for bodies with no place to hide.
Monday, May 3, 2010
if you were stuck on a island and would live forever, what three people or things would you bring with you? If it's person, they can live forever too!
You want me to say Alex Georgia Marky and little lift from god's gift...and some sour patch kids. But I refuse to be peer-pressured, so I'm'onna say Ginger and Mary Ann, Chef Boyardee, and my own personal thanksgiving feast. And all of the hard drugs I can stuff in my ears.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
What, do you suppose, is the best method of procuring for one's self, a pre-destination?
The best method? Tough call. But I will say that if everyday you stare into the sun, or consume a sandwich composed completely of two pieces of fried chicken enveloping bacon and cheese, or even masturbate while choking yourself with a dog leash attached to the handle of a revolving door, you have a pretty good idea of what's going to happen to you eventually. For me, to continue along the same lines, I blow a load into the collection plate on sundays. Because what is more valuable than the gift of life? That way I know I will go to heaven. Though I am never sure how long I will be allowed at any given church...service.
This is less a question, more a command. Write me a one sentence story pertaining to the meaning of life and jellybeans eaten by a dog. No creativity allowed.
"dog-a-jelly = yllej-a-god = illegible canine deity + pectin = dog eats jellybeans = jellybeans ate god."
And only because it is a one-sentence story can i not put a question mark at the end, which invariably makes it a fact. Also because I forget sometimes this is a place for answers and not more questions. This isn't church after all. Get it? Damn it. Get it.
Are you a chicken? If so, then why does everything taste like you?
Could a chicken do this?....oh that's right, you can't see me. Well trust me, it's pretty cool. And I didn't even have to rip out all of the hair this time.