**author’s note– this is a story submitted to a literary magazine. the title was about a certain bizarro author, that is why the name has been omitted. however, after reviewing the publication, i believe the only reason this wasn’t chosen was because it wasn’t a vocabulary assualt and was an actual disgusting story about why _____ _____ is a dick. obviously i know him better than those other fucks do. thank you for your time. ARW**
it is difficult to say that I might be overly wordy, but I digress to speaking of fellows like HP Lovecraft and the like-minded of a certain verbal sculpture. where poem and prose lose touch with reality, and combine altogether into a mix of parts anecdote to antidote, call it all about being there in the moment. the discovery of unreal ordeals and how they strain against our reality Here into the middle of nowhere in particular. we lose touch with awareness at times, with the best of intents to cherish the present, and forget the most important details of the real point. the ironic chance idea to take over the world before you are dead. only the human animal could give such harrowing tales of incredible whim. the document of life living is witness in the movement all …
likewishing to be the maestro has locked me still among the windows that my friends face out from… where these lives captured in moments are leading me, I know not… I get harder at the slight notion of a life lived differently, but maybe that would be the literate fool within this body, trying to write every sordid detail down like the ego catching up with the feeling… my mind percolates all those raucous ideas into the meat residing somewhere above the brainstem forcing to think those juvenile things that harangue society deeply… rudely manipulated by a system that would rather see me harmed for entertainment’s sake… is there any wonder why the result is so rude and offensive to all appearances?… in the quiet place there is solace for all of us, but those of us awake among …
the princes of poverty danced upon my ears, and with a shallow grace, I leaped from cushion to counter to change the pace. I defined my luck as wittingly successful and satisfying as I switched off the stereo sounds of their collective instrumentation. noise it became when the empty mood of boredom struck my senses blind. I could stand not the rude awareness that I had suddenly come to, and needed the damn thing turned off at that point. I had not been to a decent concert in years, and I was bankrupting myself outright without even a prior mention of the notion to keep in mind, I was resolute to find a venue and the proper music to create his night somewhere. I needed the fix of some kind of ecstatic motions and clever repartee to keep the …
and so I am sick of it all…the filth has humanized me into distress, but beyond that, the tears are gray…pallid marks in self-pity, and where the form ends, the microcosmic conundrum displays a fresh rendering for the viewers approach…abstracted inane, the pain of brain, thought permeated…the marked are the bearers of a cavalier attitude, the banners wave in flippant parade, and yet the question of pride comes into play perhaps…the thoughtless repose for the blank generation around us…the slate cleaned to help subdue an anatomy of rebellion…we yield for no entity that doesn’t look something vaguely familiar to us…therefore, it must replay against a field of natural surroundings again and again until the lesson is universally learned there…the first level of learning by trial and err is the serious frustration that lies just under the surface, early perfectionists …
Gory?…Dark?…Gay?…What are these words, and why do they seem to link together in statements that repel the common listener?…Uncommon is my approach to life and lively living against unfit rules that have held grip upon my consciousness, and have perceived more than just the common experience because of my unique traits and interests…Such as music, both the visual art and sonic magic, and everything unknown is a probable influence in any number of directions…Disturbing?…Masses deserve only the kindest enlightenment to the new topics of interest…The age of some concepts have been passed around for time immemorial, and our eyes just now open to these faces…Here are the essence of life itself in the distracting visage of the unfolding multitudes…Population explosion?…No new lessons, but somewhere deep down you crave to survive…Why are we ticking away like this?…I am not a …
Kevin Ogilvie, cEvin Key, Cop Shoot Cop, Tom Waits, Sonic Youth, the Melvins, the Pixies, Les Claypool, Ministry, Killing Joke, TOOL, Bauhaus, Oingo Boingo, Poe, the Swans, Shirley Manson, Blonde Redhead, kidneythieves, the Damned, Buzz Osborne, Primus, Praxis, Siouxsie Sioux, David J, My Bloody Valentine, Grace Slick, Danny Elfman, Garbage, Pigface, J.G. Thirlwell, Tricky, Morcheeba, Live, White Zombie, Public Image Ltd., Skinny Puppy, Jim Morrison, Suicide, Nick Cave, Mr. Bungle, Gary Numan, Morphine, Mike Patton, Jello Biafra, Dave Mustaine, Rage Against the Machine, Megadeth, Martyn Atkins, the Prodigy, Jimi Hendrix, Metallica, Faith No More, the Electric Hellfire Club, Lucifixion, G.G. Allin, Bjork, Maynard James Keenan, the Faint, Iggy Pop, the Germs, Tiger Army, Genesis P-Orridge, Bill Laswell, the Nekromantix, Glenn Danzig, Berlin, System of a Down, 311, Beck, Blondie, Steve Albini, Steve Miller Band, Portishead, Slayer, Jefferson Airplane, the …
We are the legal tender of this cosmic experiment, some of us have the ability to become worthless beasts, and still others become priceless commodities…What we are able to adapt to as animals of bodily incarnation is unlimited, but that can all be easily cut short with only a limited understanding of what we are capable of…Some get ahead by stepping upon others as though that was the way to get through a game, and the only way to leap ahead of other challenges…The animal is condemned by the spirit for being the savage, and we allow our minds to take utter control from the creature, making a leash so short as to choke…Experimental devices permit the brainwashing of the masses…Pavlov was not the only behavioral scientist to bring us information to train the beast, and take torment to …
I have broken myself down to the barest bone, and emotionally choked the life from my claustrophobic breast….what have I achieved in this lifetime?…I have utterly disconnected with most if not all family and friends, and have forced a withered ego to hold up within this unofficial framework that happens to house my soul….where has this soul been before?…Painting and drawing have been natural outlets for both pain and suffering, respectively, but music remains the deepest expression of my hearts whims and beats…Though I may sway restlessly through this meaty odor of existence, I have never forgotten how music affects the roots of my being, or how I became this way because of music’s magnetic field…It may be that I am a bug that derives Jesus-like joys from the throes of decay that these human forms experience over time, …
You can come up to me, and say what you will, unless it has some relevance to my beliefs or hurts me….I can dismiss it as I see fit…People are getting harder to taunt all the time, let alone the idea of spreading some shallow idea of propaganda, but perpetuating rumor and conjecture needs no real purpose to sustain it…Just gossip…So far, that is what the veneer of this raging whirlpool of influences is made up of, and we don’t seem to be totally aware of the repercussions of these proclivities….the entertaining bug that drives us all towards that golden dementia that is the eye of god…We know absolutely little about why we are subject to its mad whims, but still we are thrown around with madness as the bait to bring us boiling and drooling to this freakish …
