to those about to fock…
you are all lunatics perverted by the lack of real control that I might seem capable to sustain
alphabe-tactical
Affinity for a trinity…
Skinny Puppy…Velvet Acid Christ…Mindless Self Indulgence…
Who are they, what are they, and what do they mean to me?
How would that sound?
Jimmy Page (Led Zeppelin)… the Edge (U2)… Jack White (White Stripes)…
Might it really get that loud?…
Tulsa backwards is ‘a*sluT’…
topics through the mind meat, somewhere deep that can never be touched by human hands, but torn apart with a simple command…we might have the impossible journey stillborn in our hands, but, goddamn-it!!!, we are good people…yet, where is this fascinating syndrome i have come to feel?…
the old excuse maker…
indecision abounds, and I can’t clear the ol’ noggin, friends… gaps in time lead me to be less than fruitful, and I can’t help but classify myself in these retarded constraints, even when I know I am not that terrible… Just uncomfortably lazy…
the 13th strikes again…
so Here we are yet again, my tramps and dears alike, the day of days. friday the 13th and no Voorhees in sight. taking my place in the human race without being shy about it, and without the definite affinity with melting objects. the brain drains the pan dry, stepping out into the light, and the flickering display that consciousness has made me imperatively aware of first hand. what is luck, eh?… unlucky in life, unlucky in nearly every other aspect of living, but why the urge to move anyway? sometimes the motion kills remains of aches and seething hatreds that bury themselves under the skin, to stay active makes the blood flow into those warm places. a crutch for the unwary perhaps, but always with the sophisticated tone in ambivalence for reality working towards a progressive end, consistent …
past lies dead, long live past.
sitting, thinking, and crafting the ideas that will continue to shape my being beyond this death… such an odd string to attach one’s conscious thought… October passed with a fairly hushed tone… no parties, but feelings for strangers are pretty moot when there is far better companionship at the heart of one’s daily existence… even dreams of the recent future do not placate my psyche calm, and drugs are the least of my needs, no matter how distorted the perception may be to outsiders… festivities aside, though, there are many things learned over the course of this strange recall into slightly misty areas of memory… interactivity seems strained but feasible, and the bits I have come up with are mere shadows of the solid firmament that makes movement difficult, to be aware and understanding of them in small increments… …