autonomous walking bridge

Autonomy is impossible without differentiation, which itself is not substance, but the force that creates the possibility to characterize substance as a singular substance among substances rather than the substance. However at any given time, substance is the condition through which it is itself produced. Ruts, paths, and rupture is the ceaseless substance that makes substance possible.
Maybe.

"On. Say on. Be said on. Somehow on. Till nohow on. Said nohow on.
Say for be said. Missaid. From now say for missaid.
Say a body. Where none. No mind. Where none. That at least. A place. Where none. For the body. To be in. Move in. Out of. Back into. No. No out. No back. Only in. Stay in. On in. Still.
All of old. Nothing else ever. Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.
First the body. No. First the place. No. First both. Now either. Now the other. Sick of the either try the other. Sick of it back sick of the either. So on. Somehow on. Till sick of both. Throw up and go. Where neither. Till sick of there. Throw up and back. The body again. Where none. The place again. Where none. Try again. Fail again. Better again. Or better worse. Fail worse again. Still worse again. Till sick for good. Throw up for good. Go for good. Where neither for good. Good and all.
It stands. What? Yes. Say it stands. Had to up in the end and stand. Say bones. No bones but say bones. Say ground. No ground but say ground. So as to say pain. No mind and pain? Say yes that the bones may pain till no choice but stand. Somehow up and stand. Or better worse remains. Say remains of mind where none to permit of pain. Pain of bones till no choice but up and stand. Somehow up. Somehow stand. Remains of mind where none for the sake of pain. Here of bones. Other examples if needs must. Of pain. Relief from. Change of.
All of old. Nothing else ever. But never so failed. Worse failed. With care never worse failed.
Dim light source unknown. Know minimum. Know nothing no. Too much to hope. At most mere minimum. Meremost minimum.
No choice but stand. Somehow up and stand. Somehow stand. That or groan. The groan so long on its way. No. No groan. Simply pain. Simply up. A time when try how. Try see. Try say. How first it lay. Then somehow knelt. Bit by bit. Then on from there. Bit by bit. Till up at last. Not now. Fail better worse now.
Another. Say another. Head sunk on crippled hands. Vertex vertical. Eyes clenched. Seat of all. Germ of all.
No future in this. Alas yes."
Samuel Beckett, Worstward Ho

on the other ocean

I was walking by a drycleaner at 3a.m. and there was a sign that said "Sorry, we're closed." You don't have to be sorry. It's 3a.m. and you're a drycleaner. It would be ridiculous for me to expect you to be open. I'm not gonna come by at 10 and say, hey I was here at 3a.m and you guys were closed. Someone owes me an apology.

It's a mess

found with the following insignia attached on lettuce parchment: "here is something that i feel is adequate for all of the dearest friends of *** to read. it is based upon trying to find an answer from a forgotten past.................read of that what you will."

The staircase was cold as I tumbled down the mess of heaving hearts on the Persian rug over mahogany drawers inside the lightly colored film of a cathode ray tube.

I was imitating the antics of a Charlie Chaplin, of a Buster Keaton caught on film, of a fortune’s fool/ follied by the frantic fingering of a ¬¬¬¬¬fellated Samuel Beckett.

I had seen the staircase before, tumbling down. The waiter at the bottom sometimes charged me reduced fair, sometimes a ticket for free, for you see, he knew me well. The waiter on the top would grant me wishes, if I could muster strength to stand, wishes based upon the fall through the brushes and yuppie contraband.

I was of course clad in yellow, green and black, snowy bottoms, straight up into my back. Oh, the rhythm of dissension, descending dreary eyes, down a dipped slope, desperate, a dead prize/ rears its head past mine. This sensual gossamer greets with voluptuous reprise, yet I know this titillation of omnipotent preparation will only cast me into ultimate demise.

I sleep inside the box, next to the rancid milk-hat which I call a Book of Journals. The Ideas inside, once so freshly brewed(?) straighten into curd, the curd I see is foul. I remain in a fickled, fickle. A Fickled, Fickle. I remain inside this Fickle. The curdled Ideas remain inside of the rancid milk-hat. This hat, the cap I had worn to many Little Bat ‘n Ball fiascos is a peculiar site. This same cap, the milk-hat which I call a Book of Journals, was at one time stolen from me by a Boricuan chump. I stood, idlely while the PR fiend threatened me and my other chumps with switch-blades, derisive jargon and, also, a clenched calf muscle. My cap was later found inside of the school yard, a mistaken booty. The clenched calf muscle of our assailant was the result of a penultimate prosaic trifle involving the purveyors that fed the misled assailant, observed by the fiend at a tender young age.

For assailant (assailants) they were. Next to my side, that assailant, whom had a sharp edge on life, stabbed the friend I used to have; I have since lost contact with his mind. They only robbed some flesh from his wounded, prostrate outline on the sidewalk. There was an outline on the sidewalk, sideways lain, concrete sidewalk with chalky, chalked up perimeter where my once and gone friend had lain. A payphone call away, the bodega beside where he lay, owner hollering, “Marcharse allá!” Inside the realm of dopamine forgetfulness, I recall Those Words whispered inside his mouth.

“You are just like everyone else. Get away, and follow that sheep.”

He goes to sleep, minutes before the ambulance arrives. He awakes three days later, feeling hunger, pain, post-traumatic stress, a need to urinate and his love for his father. I see him, my fiend assailed friend, only four times more. Graduation is a third time; random encounter in Chelsea is a fourth. I only glance at him on 10th Ave, I have long bade his prostrate body farewell. He walks past, realizes who I am, stops, blinks slowly, smiles and throws his long, thick curls above his maiden-polished forehead. I respond to his aura with, “I thought you were going to die,” from which I receive, “Let us agree that we all died.” His maiden besides him ushers him inside a cavity, a gallery of yuppie-disguise. I jet, away, from this encounter, dead, wondering how should I have been alright. I reach some corner, any corner, trot a waltz, peck into my shins and sing, “Luck Be A Lady Tonight.”

THE HEAT IS ON

troll: the heat is on
husk: no it's not

BEI DURCHFALL

NATURE

rada: yes
husk: yes i know
rada: <-----gruh
husk: <--- ugh
husk: aw see, my arrow's shorter than yours
rada: i haven't emptied my sack into the toilet, yet
husk: it's bad to keep it in, you know
husk: does the wind hold back?
husk: no it blows at will
husk: so pee my friend, pee like the wind
rada: if wind were like pee, i'd go running around without my sanity
husk: see me, I'd just buy an umbrella
rada: i've set my urine free
rada: i have proclaimed emancipation
husk: just as GOD intended

"My trip to Vally Forge"

This is an old song about the “Valley Forge” days. You know, that fateful blistery winter when the “Those Old Valley Forgers” were eating their shoe leather soup and fighting all about the bilious fever and flux and louse-borne typhus. But, they all found their way through it to win the next Five battles around with the deadly Prussians. The Men used to sing this old song before them, when into their battles they went together. And Good thing too, because I think it was fucken hard out there, I can’t even imaging it for myself.

The young Men of Valley Forge
They fought all night, but died at day
They the young men all spilled their blood
They all fought for God and Men
On snowy days there was heard their cry
They the young men all spilled their blood
Their will cannot be killed
The young Men of Valley Forge
Their tombs will scatter the fields
They fought the flux and died, but won
They the young men all spilled their blood
On snowy days there was heard their cry

RE: EQUIVOCAL AUTISM

"its not even funny. its like that private joke that just agonizes whoever reads it"

VIDCHAT POLKADOTIN

JoeBloggz entertains me with flashy decors. I'm amused.

RUSE

NOW YOU SEE
THE PETALS MATCH
TOLLS FOR THEE
BECOMES A SNATCH
TIME TIME TIME TIME
IF THERE WAS NONE
LIKE LEMON SANS LIME
PREACHER DOIN' A NUN

天の来るまで落下が私達を血発汗することを愛することを許可しなさい。!!!!!!!!!!!

ZWN > SP2

"they want sunshine to butter their toast"

COMING NEVER

Also check out : JIM episode 01

shit hits the fan

Anthony Greenbank's cult book Survival in the City shows you how make your way through the urban jungle, with gritty black and white illustrations and a sense of impending peril around every corner. The urban survival handbook is not quite as popular as it once was (although Greenbank's book eventually morphed into the Book of Survival, and made its way into things like the low-tech library), we're now too cynical and jaded to look at this advice except through a fug of irony.

NEEDED A SLOW MOTION REPLAY

but still, I can't help but find this funny

TOP 5 SPONTANEOUS WORDS TODAY ACCORDING TO TROLL

5. PISS

4. CLOCK

3. HAMSTER

2. CALIFORNIA

1. COMPATIBLE

Superjail!

what John Stewart and Stephen Colbert say to their guests since being allowed back onto their shows, during the strike:

"THANK YOU....[privately to the guest] thank you so much for that. it was so great to speak with you, a leading intellectual in our modern world, on the show today....rock on, man."

Improv




yes, with guests like this.....richard brookhiser? He is a preclude of the soon-to-be silver-screen return of The Joker
.
.
.
or, is it the joker?
EEEECH!!!




or...is it....the
joker.....lol @ the warden? He's sorta a combination of the joker and willy wonka.

Adventures thru a strip mall

nah, but onetime i smoked some weed behind a gas station and walked through an alley behind a wafflehouse and seen some cook dude fuckin a waitress.

true story.

"i need to work at target again"

The things you find on the bottom of your shoe, stuck to a piece of Winterfresh® gum

01:10:58 [ld ht] you really need a life
01:11:06 [ld ht] and coming from me, that's saying something
01:11:24 [Y TRCK Y] life?
01:11:27 [Y TRCK Y] what do you mean?
01:11:40 [Y TRCK Y] like meeting strangers on the internet and traveling hours to go see them?
01:12:53 [ld ht] the only people who actually give me shit about that are usually jealous about it honestly, no one else cares

01:14:09 [Y TRCK Y] lol
01:15:20 [Y TRCK Y] no
01:15:21 [Y TRCK Y] no
01:15:22 [Y TRCK Y] lies
01:15:23 [Y TRCK Y] lies
01:15:25 [Y TRCK Y] lies
01:15:29 [ld ht] shut the fuck up you idiot
01:15:33 [Y TRCK Y] no
01:15:59 [Y TRCK Y] i rememebr you met some girl and she called you fat and you were heartbroken and you got all depressed
01:16:23 [ld ht] if i told anyone i was depressed it was not because of that
01:16:34 [ld ht] you fucking moron
01:16:38 [Y TRCK Y] either way
01:16:42 [Y TRCK Y] you fail
01:16:58 [ld ht] fail what
01:17:02 [ld ht] that girl didn't call me fat
01:17:43 [ld ht] don't you pine for some older woman with kids anyway i don't see where this converastion is going
01:18:43 [Y TRCK Y] she isnt older
01:18:56 [ld ht] so she's your age and just a breeder?
01:19:06 [Y TRCK Y] about my age
01:19:25 [ld ht] gross out
01:19:28 [Y TRCK Y] and i dont pine over her
01:19:32 [Y TRCK Y] i love her
01:19:36 [Y TRCK Y] i cant control who i love
01:19:41 [Y TRCK Y] but i love and care for her
01:19:44 [ld ht] it's pinning
01:19:45 [Y TRCK Y] i cant help that
01:19:51 [ld ht] man shut the fuck up already

01:22:22 [Y TRCK Y] man
01:22:28 [Y TRCK Y] i need to meet new people
01:22:29 [Y TRCK Y] for reals
01:22:49 [Y TRCK Y] i need to work at target again
01:22:59 [Y TRCK Y] nice place to meet peeps

28 28 28 28 28 28

BIRTHDAY (MINE)
il n’est donc plus nécessaire d’insérer un coton-tige à l’intérieur du conduit urinaire

TOP 5 REASONS THAT PREVENTED IT AT SOME POINT OR ANOTHER

5. The audience was composed of relatives

4. There was a Rush Hour 2 poster on the wall

3. Past stains

2. Been there, done it

1. Pre-jac

VOTE OR DIE!!!!

Remember that slogan "vote or die" or was it "VOTE OR DIE!!!!"

did anyone actually die? (not including diddy's )


Today i voted the shit out of that machine. it wasn't really a machine. you get this piece of paper, you connect the center of a broken arrow..ahttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifnd that's it. you get like 27 options. you get 1 vote. i wonder how many people voted for candidates that dropped out of the race. it took 4 people to confirm my identity which was pretty fun. not as fun as the sticker they give you afterwards that says "Hey, I'm a projecting asshole - I voted today! I hope you feel guilty if you didn't."

It was a pretty eclectic mix of sexists women obviously voting for Hillary in their power suits. Then you had women in their sweatshirts and medical scrub pants who were probably voting for Obama or Hillary to cash in on that health care scam. Yes, it is a scam. Do you really want the government to manage your health care? LOLOlol. shit you morons deserve this if you think so. There were a couple of black people there who were overdressed (so was I)- remember when the airport or the mall were nice places. Everyone dressed up... You had to, you were going into public and it was important to be presentable. Then southwest and Old navy came to town..and people started wearing sweatpants into banana republic and neimans.

Then you had the Mccain people. Scary, angry, and very old. It was obvious the mccain people were counting the provisionals and etc. Big red shirts, cowboy hats. Rich wannabe rancher socialites who thinks terrorism is a real concern. (It's not) Any Romney supporters? Hard to tell, these guys dont stick out very much like the Ron Paul crowd. So that's all guesswork.

we have to pray hillary's neo-con policies dont take over. we have to hope obama actually has policies (someone told me yesterday one of his policies was "inspiration"), we have to try and be happy that Mccain will get beat by the previous two. We wonder if Romney ever had a chance. And we question why people are too ignorant to understand Ron Paul was the best man for the job.

May I just move to another country? Does Canada suck as much as Mccain claims?