mice:
-cute
-squeaky
-you can pet them
-work well with computers... especially bluetooth ones.
gerbals:
-bigger than mice
-cute
-squeaky
-you can pet them
-can be used for anal sex games.
-do not work well with computers.
I'll have to say that even minus the computer usage, gerbals win here, most definetely.
It was like a walking on hot coals. I don't know why she cared. It wasn't up to her to begin with. It does not matter, liquid with fill our veins, despite what she and the Mad King believe. I shall not waste any moment longer. The journey continues...
There is something to be said about The Spice Girls, I do not know what that is, and surely whatever it is isn't worth mentioning but there is something to be said, albeit silently, nevertheless.
"dude, i just made this bowl of noodles....and when i opened up the seasoning packet.....it smelled just like the bear exhibit at the san diego zoo"
"how do you know what a bear exhibit at the san diego zoo smells like? you been sneaking in after hours and shit?"
"i've been there...and i know what bears smell like"
prose on the hidden workings unbeknownst to the prosaic day-to-day denizen. From the Shackleford Collection
By the dreaded hypocrites day
a new retaliation was met (better safe than sorry)
a new wound was let
bled, rifle fire and sinisteur exaggerateur
said, raven’s beak sounded rogues’ death
Transcontinental cables lead Mafioso messages
Founded in the back of Wall St. offices on Labor Day.
Remember the carrion’s flesh, the raven’s passage?
The benefit plan gives the dying cow last year’s hay,
A narrow victory for a funeral pyre wedding.
"If god was god, why would he make anything BUT himself?
"god might have made the universe[...]but our thoughts are the master builders of the universe.
"we art as god does in heaven."
"I art a fool, so god must be a fool, too."
[dilapidated representation of flooded area]
Equivocal came in at #17 over at VLOG UK's Top 25 Blogs of 2007. Thank you to all the readers and have chairs for parked cars.
If I could come up with my own series of 80s action movies, I'd call it:
BLOOD DEBT
direct to video shit
no, direct to VHS
and then there would be direct sequels
BLOOD DEBT 2: INTEREST
BLOOD DEBT 3: PAYBACK
and the fourth one wouldn't have a number
just like "The Substitute"
then I could die a happy man
maybe a canadian tv series too
'cause see, it's a BLOOD DEBT
that's like the worse kind of debt
ever
you have to settle that
it's a BLOOD DEBT
TONIGHT, OH SOUND I DO HEAR
MOST PEOPLE INGEST SPARE CHANGE
RUST IN PANCREAS CAUSES FEAR
PAYING TAXES IN TOILETTE RANGE
THOUGH CLEANSED, NOT ALL IS WELL
SEA WHAT THOU HATH DONE?
ASSISTANT CAB DRIVER, NAMED MEL
WHILST THEE PERMIT ME THIS PUN
"study math, dont do meth, stay in school , do drugs[...]
"that came out wrong. dont do drugs stay in school and do meth homework."
"i once saw a meth addict run straight into a grassy knoll and dented a divot in it."
Can you?
Can you wear Ink | Panic's ™ Too Late Now T-SHIRT?
Or
Can you warn friends with Ink | Panic's ™ Too Late Now POSTCARD?
Yes, you can? But it'll cost you.
Why not just all dance and stuff. Caramels are fine, srly you shouldn't worry. Life's too short, get a divorce. You can be mysogynic for a day and no one will be the wiser. Who's right? Much love. An afterlife of female vengance. We should just dance, all of us.
[re: complaint]
GAYLUSSITE
"Gaylussite is a mineral, a hydrated sodium calcium carbonate, formula Na2Ca(CO3)2.5H2O. It is formed as an Evaporite from non marine waters. Discovered in 1826, it is named after Gay-Lussac, the French scientist."
husk: too early
husk: im at that early coffee stage where passers-by could be potential victims of my hatred for all things living
husk: it'll pass after a few sips
troll: youve just been rick rolled.
husk: case in point
Due to underwhelming circumstances, the vaguing all-seeing-quote is now in effect {as it's been for a while now, without warning to avoid mass panic}. Is there a word for eight consecutive trimesters?
Lieutenant Berch, 59th N. I was accidentally shot, on the evening of the 2nd September by one of the sentries, who mistook him for an enemy. The enemy at times made some very determined attacks on this post bringing ladders close up to the walls when they had to be repulsed with hand grenades.
CAT POWER > SRLY WHO WOULDN'T *** THAT
BUENA VISTA > LORIMAR TV > BOB SAGET > WWIII
TACO BELL > DEMOLITION MAN > THE FUTURE > SHAME
JOHN DENVER > LEAVING ON A JET PLANE > ...
husk: does it still itch?
jk: meh.
jk: hold on, scratching...
husk: I KNEW ITZ
husk: so now that you know the way his love is, do you understand?
jk: i stand under
jk: a "bottom boy" as it were
husk: still is
husk: the love is like being caught in a public restroom with other men
jk: or with james lipton
husk: "I WAS JUST LOOKING FOR MY PANTS -- AND THIS FELLOW WAS HELPING ME"
husk: Lipton makes the best Iced Tea, hands down
jk: i prefer taking the nestea plunge
husk: blasphemy
husk: no doubt about it, Nestea was the Iced Tea king of the 80s
husk: but that's no longer the case
jk: i'm ateaist
husk: and I will take great insults if you deny this
husk: that made no sense
jk: some kings ascend into divinity
jk: i'm just throwing that out there
husk: i can't top that
jk: the rule stands: if you have to revise your retort more than 3 times, you're probably trying to hard
jk: oh shi.
husk: if only you knew
husk: I was looking for the name of that WB show that ends with "ty"
husk: it's this show about a girl doing stuff
jk: felicity
jk: ?
husk: yes
jk: now your ISP knows how gay you are
husk: some assholes descend into Felicity
husk: now my ISP knows what my love is
jk: assholes decend into decent girls all the time
jk: it really eats my hoagie
husk: crude but true
jk: crude, rude and totally lewd
husk: NVR FRGT
jk: nvr fggt
Dried ginger in the desk, dried jars of shoreline, dried hearts of microcosms, dried nodoze in the desk.
Dried-up faith ushers movement, out west, out to the rock, the isolated altar, the breakers weathering and ushering the lost eyes singing lost blues.
Dried craniums opened to Miracle-Grow, sew the newts' eyes shut, we're broadcasting clearly now.
My gay friend says "dude, that's gay" -- in response I say "dude, that's hetero" but it doesn't pack quite the same punch. When was the last time you drank virgin punch? Have you ever punched a virgin? Sub-plots are unresolved (never will be). Is homeboy listening to gay disco?.That makes you. That's what you.
From BEER (August 30th 2007), posted without permission:
Damn, I really dig the hell out of that Le Soir splash vid loop. the oil pump. It's really cool. I wish I could have that thing going about fifteen feet tall, me sitting in a lawn chair in front of it.
I will blog. I'm not feeling to inspired on the vague front, When i found out it was vague (I had to compare things to some samples I got from THE GOVERNMENT) my shit went down the tubes like a heavy one.
Just drove some precious 13 year old cargo home from michigan..cargo representing four families...my boy wired in his mp3 player and we sang beatles tunes all the way home...the folks at the toll booths loved that shit...the cargo all agreed that THE OLD SHIT ROCKED HARDER THAN THRIRD EYE BLIND.
husk: i guess it's a sign of power when you can make a fist with your cock
husk: or a sign of syphilis
troll: is god a man or woman? he's both
troll: is god black or white? he's both
husk: what does that have to do with cockfist ?
troll: does god love all children? yes he does
husk: lol! COCKFIST
troll: is god michael jackson?
husk: what
A leftover from upstate. Believed to be crafted from old trapped air.
A vendor sells helado, with various flavors: mango, pina colada, pineapple, cherry, lemon and rainbow. The rainbow is actually red, yellow and orange. ROY…..gimme some ROY. Outside this vendor, across the avenue, sat the dilapidation of a diluted society. Some called it a sancutuary for seekers of spiritual bliss, culling the vigor and fortitude found inside all. The tests leading down paths to the consummated “enlightenment” were seen by many as outside their own realm of rationality. Life for many was already too difficult, getting by daily or weekly with their lives. FORTIS IN ARDUIS. Hardly. Such endeavors were best kept by the builders of society and were not seen as important to those outside of this devout division of humanity. (it is somewhat ironic that many of your so called secular truths in founding the United States lie atop men of such lost spiritual power) Unbeknownst to their youths, their legacy of chosen ignorance and denial, the workers bowed to that unknown, turned away and toiled: vendors selling helado.
For a while, (as long as there was consciousness?) members of this organization continued in the world. Their effect on societies and communities throughout the world cannot even be estimated, nor remotely measured. The ignorance of the rest of populations rendered such calculations irrelevant. Notwithstanding any degree of uncertainty, it seems that such an enigmatic influence in recent times has been rendered moot. Traditional abandonment is unobtrusively detailed through condemned banquet halls and private properties abandoned within the past twenty years or so. While the digital age and the Internet have made organizations go completely into cyberspace, it isn’t without a tinge of doubt that any semblance of ancient rites have ceased, whose legacy can be traceless.
Matchless beauty in such a “secret society” in the parlance of our time, the ability for brothers to worship more easily in a free land offered such chapters to spread across the land of America. Remnants of the leaders of men in older Eurasian traditions, the ideology left to the devices of the “melting pot” or, more recently, the “tossed salad” have been convoluted in the various media’s imagination throughout the century. The truth of the enigmatic influences and where they have led such societies in the broader scope of local provincials remains just the unknown knowledge to be craved for future consumption. Perhaps it is the free-market that has destroyed any semblance of the need for secret brotherhoods. We still want the architects of society to be symbolized in the pyramid, the third-eye, yet it might merely by our own traditions that create such fantasies.
CUSTODIAN SUPER TRUTH | THE DOOR THAT CAME / SEASON FINALE | What lies before us? Ten different sets of stairs leading in ten different directions. Different ups and downs. A first in the ever-tedious spontaneous pick series. In the late 90s, movie studios were confused by the Internet; there was no Internet-ergonomy. It can be seen on movie posters of that era (the http's, the index.html's). The researchers all agree; a valid point nobody could ever argue. Since that time, nostalgia has been linked to symptoms of various cramps (or a lack thereof). It was expected / Failure's just another token in the machine. To which state have you been elevated to now that you've learned the truth (B.Nein)? The flow may be eroding the riverbed. The erosion may in turn result in increased outflow, more than can be replenished by rain or snowmelt, according to a study by a group of Canadian coastal engineers and none will be the wiser. C.T.U or D / You elevate abandoning/accepting that there were no passages below. At at at at at at.
FOUNDED ON NOTHING! (down with lectures, praise to anarchy!)
-a student call to arms, after receiving a C on a meaningless paper on the subject of "Psychology of Baseball."
break
Limbo, the common ground for street dwellers.
Patrons of the rabies-afflicted absinthe drinker, the gutter arts were the prime suspect of many a young man’s dementia.
Dreary afternoon, a cab pulls up and let’s off a junkie, the former CFO of the Surdna Foundation, betrayed on moral grounds by his former associates of SG CIB and Deutsche Bank. All names erased from the records of corporate member rosters. Queue the untold stories of a Central Park homeless man, high-class hobo reality TV.
Dead seagulls on the avenue, slight grimace from the patron of a corner café, dealt a blow to one’s apathetic American dome. The dome, in many psychologists’ professional opinions stems from latent after-effects of a country administered with “Cold War Psychosis.”
fittis: i love night TV
husk: i love his mustache
fittis: i love YOUR mustache
husk: who doesn't
fittis: well i dunno
fittis: i just fuckin love it
Sölvbacka strömmar, precis vid dammluckan. Regnig kväll. Simmade glatt tillbaka.
"harr, Thyma´llus thyma´llus, art i familjen laxfiskar. Den finns i sötvatten, framför allt rinnande, i n. och ö. Europa. Den är allmän i n. Sverige och förekommer lokalt i södra. Den kan bli ca 70 cm lång. Den höga och långa ryggfenan skiljer den från andra svenska laxfiskar. Den luktar svagt som timjan. Sidorna är silvergrå med violett skimmer." - Nationalencyklopedin
BOB BARKER > TWISTER > RELIGIOUS EXTREMISTS > SPICE WORLD
FRITO-LAY > WHAM! > OUT GAMES > ANTI-CONSUMERISM
ANDY WARHOL > DURAN DURAN > METROID > LOST HIGHWAY SOUNDTRACK
DECEPTICONS > JARED FOGLE > LEGO STAR WARS > TRANS FAT
Skogsväsen fångad i ytterst hemlig liten pöl, 70 mil norrut. Avelshingsten simmar lyckligt vidare.
"rödingar, Salveli´nus, släkte laxfiskar med 15-20 arter i kalla vatten i norra holarktiska regionen. De skiljs från lax och öring genom att ha ljusa fläckar på mörk botten i st.f. tvärtom och gombenet tandbesatt endast framtill." - Nationalencyklopedin
Heed a warning, only you can savor a moment (forest fire). "Knowing what you know now, would you still do Britney Spears ...if you could, that is?" Now more than ever. It's the long gap of possibilities between a not so innocent cheerleader and a rampant rehab diva that confuses many, but to me the latter is considerably more appealing. Take not for granted an opportunity to learn something, and learn I would.
“it's like i crave confusion from every aspect of life.”
Piece from the Mizcene from the Art Museum inside the Railroad Museum outside the Architectural Design Exhibition. Edit is a practice in brevity-editing.
Huxley's review of J. H. Whitehouse's Ruskin Addresses, which appeared in the September 5, 1919 Athenæum, does not so much evaluate these Ruskin texts of the editor's treatment of them as give Huxley an occasion to provide his own estimate of Ruskin, whose political economics and defence of the Pre-Raphaelites he praises but whose effect on British architecture he despises. Huxley ___________ a child of ____ time in this _______, and time and taste have passed him by, _____________ believed in the 1920s, scholars, critics, and laymen now increasingly s__ ______ ______ forms of Gothic Revival architecture as major ________ Ruskin as one of the ____ art thinkers of the age. Now __________________________________________________________________________ Ruskin's emphases on lush design have come to seem increasingly essential to a humane form of building.
Huxley apparently doesn't know much about either Ruskin's work on architecture or his actual complex, often contradictory influence upon art and design, ____________ — Seven Lamps of Architecture, The Stones of Venice, and "Traffic" — had three major effects — popularize gothic revival style, encourage functionalism in architecture, and encourage revival or development of local vernacular architecture from Hungary to New Mexico. Huxley only mentions the first and simplifies the nature of a complex movement. Furthernmore, ___________________ Ruskin's relation to the Gothic Revival:
Since around 2003 homes have become less interesting every day. Builders seem to have just lost their touch on reality. Everyone wants an original home! Yet, everywhere we go and every new neighborhood we look at, the houses tend to look the same. Isn’t that odd! The originality of architects has gone out of the window. Maybe it’s because America itself is increasingly becoming boring. Not a lot of people dare to think out of the box anymore at all. Or maybe it’s the costs of these new houses. What happened was realty hit a boom and the prices of houses increased and increased until it became no longer feasible for people to buy them. Now most of Americans can’t even afford to build their own original house. Maybe that will change soon or it may not. Overall, this may end in a few years as soon as marketing prices go down but the bland architecture may continue for a long time to come.
Instead of laughing at the botched architecture, he reacts with sadness at the result of these attempts at artistic beauty that lack skill, taste, and quality materials.
From BEER (August 10th 2007), posted without permission:
Here,
As to my eletism. yeah. Im lost in a world of errors, 14 of them, all run producing. BUT IM NOT GOING TO RESCUE THE FUCKS WITH OUR ACE.
NICE OLD DICKSUCKERS, look likes my friends and I at a reunion to see Genesis...peter gabriel wasn't there so WE JUST SUCKED COCK AND KISSED. Lots of scabbed up legions on our hips ,elbows, knees that we excused as chaffing but were really from sliding into second when we were 14. Hard to let go of those competitive badges so we've all been picking them fo years and using them as pathetic proofs to collect money at the off ramps. funny how we all ended up doing the same shit AFTER ALL THESE YEARS.
THE COCK WAS GOOD BUT THE PILLOWS SMELLED LIKE GERIARTRIC HEAD
Dont beg me for blogs or I'll come to Canada and New York and piss in your graham cracker boxes while your doing the dishes and pondering the vacant lot OUTSIDE YOUR FUCKING WINDOW.
there's more
WHERE'S THE FUCKING CURSOR YOU BLACK TITLEAKS??
+++ cmp #$83 bne + ; move until Y coord = $83 inc ObjAction,x
+ jmp ShowElevatorElevatorScroll:
lda ScrollY bne ElevScrollRoom ; scroll until ScrollY = 0
lda #$4E lda #$41 sta AnimIndex
lda #$5D
sta AnimResetIndex,x lda #$50sta AnimIndex,x
inc ObjAction,x
lda #$40
sta Timer
jmp ShowElevator
ElevScrollRoom:
lda $030F,x bpl + ; branch if elevator going down jsr ScrollUp jmp ShowElevator jsr ScrollDown
jmp ShowElevator
LD8A3: inc ObjAction,x
THE TREES REQUIRE TIME TO GROW
WHERE'S THE CURSOR, TAPPING ON MY KIDNEYS?
MAY CAUSE LEAKAGE, THAT'S GOOD TO KNOW
I CAN'T FIND MY KEYS
THIS IS MY FAVORITE ONE SO FAR
I'M IN LOVE WITH THIS ONE
OHGIMMESOMEBEER FROM A GAY BAR
PAINFULLY INSERTED ALBEIT FUN
Rapeseed, in a technologically decadent world.
Proxies on false-colored eyelashes, ultraviolet frequencies
Orange juice bottle eye-glasses
Drum key rosaries
Blouse, untied, magnetic bulls eye, trough, warm plain on the back.
Fish-ears gone sour, dead faced-fish head gone gourmet.
Round picnic table on the courts of concrete, disapproval of the funds allotted for flagship species.
DREARY LOCAL WEATHER FORECASTS & OTHER SUCH THINGS ON THE ROAD AHEAD WHICH I WOULD BE INCLINED TO BELIEVE WERE IT NOT FOR YEARS AND YEARS OF COUNTLESS HALF-TRUTHS | You'll see, next up, it'll be the drastic cliffhanger-ish season finale, but for the moment it's nothing but a repeat performance of the usual minor intrigues (and other such things on the road ahead which I would be inclined to believe were it not for years and years of countless expired calendars). We're way past the self-inquiries here, the reflections and wonderings that are distractions between choices carefully planted to confuse and delay any potential progress therein. This is the eight choice / This is the ninth. One single pause for a successful two-in-one. Better late than never... How many safe strategies have you ever put aside for a single shot at the impossible? Five.
As if on cue. He who serves you well deserves the proper acknowledgement in return. I have dreams of department store souvenirs (and all the collegues I never got to see naked) -- it is at that time that I started to listen. Now look at me. Les derniers seront les premiers ; they're obviously on some kind of kayak.
SEXUAL EXPLORATION WITH BRAN
THERE WALKS A SHADOWED HAUNT
WITH A FACE NOT UNLIKE THAT OF A MAN
SHE WISHED HE'D RATHER NAUGHT
STILL THE GHOST OF DIETARY PAST
PURSUED HIS QUEST AND HATH NO FEAR
CRIMSON MINUTES AILING FAST
LONG RIDE HOME WITH A BLOODY REAR
JAPAN > NEONS > VIRTUA FIGHTER > KETAMINE
POPSICLE PETE > LAWN BOWLING > MIKE TYSON > WINDOWS VISTA
ZWAN > POTENTIAL > IMMORALITY > ZEITGEIST (MY LOVE IS)
OIGNONS > V-GUITARS > GREAT WHITE SHARKS > FORKS
A timeless piece from the archives of found-media. Among the first of a slew of drafts from a forgotten time, the piece is still debated about to this day, ranging from all speculation as "Renaissance bulletin" to "synopsis from the future" and even a "practical point of confusion." similar articles have been discovered, some with dates and times on them leading to suggestions of correlations, inspirations or homages with the below document. While certainly not the most informative, it has been referenced the most important, some sumbissions of it single-handedly instigating the entire field of crypto-anthro-linguistics amd archae-literature; say what you will.
>The following took place between 9:41 PM on July 6, 4,278,090 BC and 7:53 AM on October 25, 10,134 AD:
Two masses of rock nearing the temperature of sublimation split apart forming a chasm the size of the Atlantic Ocean.
A woman in Utica, New York ran frantically through a densely wooded park searching for her son, only to find him asleep on a park bench, his shoes untied.
Nitric acid rained down on the remains of the Fourth World Order.
A frigatebird soaring through the air above Ascension Island at 90 miles per hour gravely misjudged its distance from the edge of a seaside cliff and collided with a protruding rock formation, killing it instantly.
Having grown to love his imperfections, Ada Meriweather suggested to her husband Jeb that they renew their wedding vows. He dismissed the idea as 'excessive' and pointed out that they had been married only two weeks prior.
The Golden Record carried on Voyager I went unseen for twelve hundred years, only to be destroyed when the spacecraft itself was annihilated by an asteroid.
An unmarried Japanese businessman ate a sushi dinner for the sixth day in a row and sighed having completed it. That night he dreamt his body sank to the bottom of the ocean.
The SETI program was discontinued due to a lack of funding. Three weeks later, an extremely low frequency radio signal originating from the constellation Orion and containing a simple, concise message of salutation passed over Earth. No one took notice. The planet the signal originated from had long since been destroyed.
A giant squid (Architeuthis dux) became entangled in a coral reef formation off the coast of New Zealand for six minutes. In freeing itself, it lost a tentacle.
The Dow Jones Industrial Average fell 214.92 points.
The third son of the second man on Earth began a nine day journey through the African wilderness, only to die on the tenth day from an infected wound he suffered on the sixth.
A man inserted a screwdriver into the right ear of his youngest brother with forty-five pounds of force and smiled as the blood spewed forth. Eight minutes later, when the body finally lay lifeless on the ground, he walked to his kitchen, ate a McIntosh apple, did twenty pushups, stuck a shotgun in his mouth, and pulled the trigger.
A supernova in the Trifid Nebula, located in the constellation Sagittarius, obliterated nine hundred planets, two of which fostered microbial life.
Eleven days before her seventh birthday, Cleopatra realized that her body was different from her brother's. Four years later she realized that because of this difference, men would find her attractive.
A man in Istanbul slipped while descending a staircase and bounced all the way to the bottom. His cousin saw the entire accident and laughed for four straight minutes (and then sporadically for the rest of the night).
Molten lava burst forth from a relatively small volcano south of the equator, sending flaming hot particles of liquid metal into the hydrogenous air.
The six-year-old daughter of an Inuit doctor skinned her right knee twice in one day, but having cried the first time, she laughed the second. She had her first child twenty-three years later.
An amoeba that would have grown into the first multi-celled organism on Earth was destroyed instantly when lightning struck 2.3 millimeters from it.
Nuclear winter befell three entire continents more than once.
A glacier fourteen thousand miles long shifted thirty inches southeast, only to melt and fall into the sea eight hundred years later.
I got a brand new car...
vroom vroom
vroom vroom
I got a brand new car...
vroom vroom
oh yeah.
i got a brand new car..
vroom vroom
uh hun..
i got a brand new car...
vroom vroom
vroom vroom...
(repeat verse 1)
(repeat verse 1)
Oranges vs. Apples
-Apples:
Apple juice
applejacks
green apple smirnoff ice
-Oranges:
Orangina
Gatorade
orange chocolate
Orange Crush
cousin of lemon, lime & grapefruit.
Oranges wins 5-3
THE HALVES BECOME ONE
LO BEHOLD A VAN
BELLIGERENT LIGHT FROM THE SUN
HE WHO HAS YET TO TOUCH A MAN
COASTERS PROTECT THE TABLE CLOTH
HAVEN'T I SUFFERED ENOUGH? (REPEAT X)
HEY WHAT'S UP, LOOK! A MOTH
YEAH BABY, THAT'S THE STUFF
Transformers VS G.I. Joe
-Transformers.. they were like fucking awesome! Optimus Prime totally ruled. and megatron? he was a fucking gun! He could fucking shoot every g.i.joe and cobra fucks. +1 point
1-0 transformers
-G.I. Joes had chicks! I always wanted Flint to bang Lady J. +1 point
1-1
Tie
HIGH TIDES OF MORNING RIDES
ALTITUDE IS NOTHING BLISS
DEMEANING PAINTINGS FURTHER COLLIDES
CAN? CAN THE ONE MAN HEAR THE HISS
ONCE THERE LAY A CLOCK
MY HEART LAY BORE
RISING MIGHT MAJESTIC COCK
GONE FOREVER, HEARD NO MORE
Yeah you heard. Now you (don't) know. What do I know? I know what you knew. You know what I never knew. And really, that's fine. Have you heard? Past tense, like? A deaf person has heard the news in a way. I know you figure I'll go there and you're right. Don't consider this but think about it. Akk. It would hurt, you know? I guess you would say that I would not so much so be fortunate enough to per say besides and b-sides (awful) although you could argue, or not, that all is well enough far off for one to even attempt. I love found media. Seriously though.
So the thing's called PAC-MAN and he's got his female companion (so we suppose) called MISS PAC-MAN -- but why the fuck wasn't she called PAC-WOMAN !??
Another prose piece from the journals of “Paul Spitzer” page 48
Heated debate, over the love of the lady sitting next to me. Drab reality, inches closer to me. She has the neck of a meerkat. FEELS THE NEED TO SUCK IT, BRINGS THE IDEA OF BLANK, EMPTY SPACE TO MIND.
Points to me, “my shy friend over there……[static static static static] ….very good dancer….[static static laughter static] designed to break…” Prods the floor, drips with sap from the brow.
Left to the devises of the dancers, the dripping sap comes up to above the eyes. He is followed by the others, indefinitely. Runs across the street. THIS IS NOT DRAMA! This is travesty in a latté cup. The five-stared demons heads drive the music into the ground, pounding music for the latent-maturation patients. To be the age of 20 until the age of 45. Let’s sink into the ground, the pounding, prodded ground.
Stenciled love-letters on warehouses
Husk says: dude
Husk says: check it:
Husk says: http://www.examiner.com/a-501790~Fla__Woman_Allegedly_Puts_Baby_in_Oven.html
Troll says: crazy shit
Husk says: "there's a bun in the oven!"
Husk says: we need a new word for bitch
Husk says: something stronger
Husk says: its lost its meaning
Troll says: agreed
Troll says: something like "evil whore of satan" but in one word and without religion reference
Husk says: yes
Husk says: with an inch of TRAMP and SLUT
Mustard or Mayonnaise?
fries: Mayonnaise
Hotdogs: Mustard
sandwiches: Mustard
Mustard wins 2-1
OUTDOORS | Lesser men and women with lesser clothes (and vice versa). An immigrant-less plain of gray grass and all that could've been but fortunately isn't. Compared to modern teens, we had virtually no graphitti skills, though the messages remain the same: "my turf". One might wonder if they also pee from the high above the slides as we did back in the day... it begs a certain question: have we ever sled in the previous generation's drunken pee deposits (or worse)? All I recall is that they showed up holding sharp katana blades ready to bust up the swings -- a rare sight for suburbia though nowadays the kids all have guns... with Bluetooth capabilities. You're walking in the opposite direction, friend.
Dreaded-dredlocks, dead fellows feeling the light, light fellows feeling the heat, the heat feeling the politicians, the politicians feeling righteous via the priests, the priests feeling the little boys (CENSORED) the little boys feeling the anxieties, the anxieties felt by those who wear dredlocks in the summer.
"The show was ok, but i was right in the front and every time the lead singer (Deftones) would get close to the crowd, i would get crushed from behind, until at one point my face was buried into this smelly white-guys huge dreds, and i decided i had enough and pushed my way back from the front railing."
EGYPT > LAMPS > DEVO > YAHOO SERIOUS
PEPSI > XEROX > CHRIS BENOIT > AQUAFRESH
GOLDEN GIRLS > ICQ > XENA WARRIOR PRINCESS > SEX AND THE CITY (AGAIN)
BRUCE CAMPBELL > DORITOS > DUE SOUTH > GUNS N ROSES
The old box with its dusty photographs. There was laughter, tears and smoke. When all else fails, everything else should work.
Replication of a letter during the Mizence. Off-purple color from having been found in a pool of long expired cleaning-agents. Little is known about the slogan "FOR VICTORY." Arrangement of the date with day preceding year still unclear. See "discharge letters" under "Post-Pacific Conflict" circa early Mizence.
Renovate
Masking tape, pins, wax, gum, threads, flaxseed oil, epoxy, hot plate, polymer vessels, ladders, old sheets, 6-pack, sweating ladies, trampoline, 3-disc CD-changer, iced-tea, licorice (salted), raisin bread, paint cans, masks, caps, boxes of tools.
Remonstrate
Cigarettes, black horn-rimmed glasses, desks, podiums, wet paper, ink, coffee, muscle-shirts, muscles, fists, blood, shaking, pulses, strategy, Brian Eno, sparkling spring water (Saratoga Springs) intermission, Chunky, Q&A, bath.
Renegotiate
Threats, bombs, threats, bombs, threats, bombs, threats, bombs, threats, embargo, threats, terms, polonium, remuneration, demonetize, threats, accord, re-draft, reconnaissance, open research in hinterlands funded by pharmaceutical corporations. Renewed stock options, luxury condos, privatization, Chow Line, threats, handgun, ER, closed fried chicken restaurant, ghetto-fear.
Felt un-manly in the hardware store, pointed at things and said:
"oh that's a 3/4". Then she gave me wood.
BLACK MUSIC > THE BEATLES > METROID > MODERN MUSIC
TENNIS > HOMOSEXUALITY > OASIS > JENGA
RENAISSANCE > CANDLES > EXCITE.COM > FIG NEWTONS
CONNECT FOUR > MENSTRUAL CYCLE > BLOSSOM > DIGIMON
GROWING PAINS > SINEAD O' CONNOR'S 1992 SNL SCANDAL > JINGLE ALL THE WAY > SEX AND THE CITY
husk: what is the worst song ever written
husk: obviously i loathe that Jennifer Paige song "Crush" but my number one all time worst is Cindy Lauper's "Time after time"
Troll: dunno crush.. id say any thing by dave matthews where he strums the guitar really hard and opens his mouth and words come out.
husk: oh wait -- there's also that French Nirvana "rape me" parody "J'en ai mare des pizza"
husk: so painful
husk: so painful that they thought it was amusing
Troll: or any parody by Q92 in the morning.
husk: and Cindy Lauper, she's all serious in that song, and it hurts, it's so cheesy
Troll: i love her goonies song
husk: I don't know how many 80s movies nabbed that song as their end credits song
husk: no it sucks
husk: she is the complete opposite of timeless
husk: The Beatles stood the test of time
husk: Cindy Lauper, god no
Troll: prince is timeless
Troll: lol
Troll: batdance is timeless
Troll: NOT
husk: I like George MIcheal
husk: I know it sounds weird, but I like him
Troll: i like his band before
Troll: wham
husk: WHAM?
Troll: yeah
husk: no it's in capitals
husk: WHAM!
husk: you can't just write wham
Troll: wake me up, before you go go..
husk: with a dick dick
husk: crazy voice that guy
husk: Duran Duran, pioneers man
husk: Simon LeBon, crazy ass voice, plus he's called Simon
Troll: i like faith.. i picture homos jumpin on a bed.. "the rules of attraction"
husk: go on
Never too ecstatic about searching in the attic.
Where is Optimus Prime's head?
I so would love him back as one.
Maybe Flint is around...
Ill have him fuck Lady J.
He-man is fucked.
I brought him too many times in the bathtub.
Now his rubber elastic broke.
Where is Mickey?
I have his numchuks...
Hah! What's this? A ouija board....
No we won't be playing this.
I couldn't help but ask if any of my iSight friends had used their built-in cameras for pornographic purposes. I was surprised by the resulting honesty. I've never had my penis as a wallpaper before. THERE'S A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING AND A LAST TIME FOR NOTHING!!@!.
"Michael, Where are you Michael?" - she yelled.
"What?!?... fuck...!! I'm just enjoying my tuna roll!"-he answered.
The car alarm sounds off. No one responds anymore, the owner barely even cares; "it's a glitch 99% of the time". Thieves work around em'. It is the obsolete siren of nuisance. You annoying loop.
"It's just a little crush (crush)
Not like I faint every time we touch
It's just some little thing (crush)
Not like everything I do depends on you
Sha-la-la-la, Sha-la-la-la"
REALLY?? It's just a crush? No big deal? Then how come you wrote a SONG about it, bitch?? And what the fuck is up with that "Sha-la-la-la" shit?? You think that's some kind of "in your face" rebuttal? Damn, if I were the guy you had a crush on, I'd sure as hell be glad that it was "just a crush" so that I could be rid of you as soon as possible. Oh shit, here comes that "Sha-la-la-la" moron again... run before she writes another song about... not carring wether we notice or not!
"he wants to see my jugs, he ain't dangerous" -cashier to lady, general conversation
"i'd rather have my hands smell like alcohol than smell like shit" -cashier to lady while wiping her hand with a wet nap after giving change to a black man
Moving stuff around, same room, different room. Take a hammer and open up the wall boards. Find lost things and hide found ones. There you go.
The great ideas behind some marketing, now you have audiobooks being advertised for your iPod. (Like no one could think of that before.) The death of the books. Just as Egon said in Ghostbusters, “Print is dead” and he said that in 1984! I think it is merely dormant. It will return and become the sole means of impertinent straws on the camel’s back. Papyr was Lem’s mortal coil, the disappearance of it brought the populations of earth to a standstill. It took one person to almost figure out the futility of defeating the system within, yet his insanity caught up with him.
The marketing business is evil. (Yes, have you heard the hicks say it?) They can kill your lifestyle and make you wish your privileges were forced upon you in a salad bowl, smothered with cheap graphics and glossy paper. (oh, I guess print isn’t dead….they need paper a bit longer)
husk: seriously
jk: sirius lee
jk: his bark is worse than his bite
husk: you got that right
husk: so it's called "cashmere" now
jk: cashmare
jk: cashcow
husk: Scotties® Brand "Bathroom Tissues" -- Cashmere
husk: AND it's quilted
jk: 2-ply
husk: yeah, at that
jk: what if you only shit before you get a shower
jk: you don't need tp
husk: there's a 3-ply ultra edition for layered comfort
jk: save some trees
husk: I don't think that's recommended
husk: or is it some huge marketing ploy?
husk: who knows
jk: i only feel comfortable using towels as strong as a brawny man
husk: yeah, you can tell that guy shits a ... well, a shitload
husk: of shit
jk: he's a lumberjack. he knows how to handle logs
husk: ugh
husk: he's also AL from Home Improvement
husk: in the later years, when those kids were "older" and so arrogant
husk: you could tell they hated each other
jk: Al = brawny... JTT = tissue paper
husk: you know this reminds me
husk: Bob Barker's done now
jk: A NEW CAR!
husk: and when I was younger, I was under the impression that the second Bob Barker would've quit The Price Is Right, there would've been an immediate apocalypse
husk: Retirement home riots, Dorm room fires
jk: well, if the scriptures are true, rosie o'donnell is the anti-christ
husk: something with Marines also
jk: so... chew on that for a while
husk: are you
husk: telling me to chew on Rosie O'Donnell ?
jk: accept the lord jesus christ as your personal lord and savior
husk: is that like a file request?
jk: here, take a mini king james bible and a pamphlet
jk: and remember
husk: and now we're back on "bathroom tissue"
jk: jesus loes you
jk: it all comes round full circle
husk: like the full circle spinning of a flushing toilet
jk: bible pages are good for rolling joints
husk: analogy of life "complete"
jk: not so good for flushing
jk: zoinks!
jk: i need to go to work
husk: you go girl
jk: *scrams*
The secret allurement of a hot girl savoring a Mr.Freeze® : a refreshing head-tilt / eyes-shut / mouth-full of an "mmm". No more distractions, at least not for the next few minutes. When asked, Ty added: "wind that blows in many ways" in response to passing a door (early 90s quote from a faux-poet and his homosexual furniture). Every stop is getting livelier, carefully orchestrated to lose counts and ignore paths. Touché, cold girl with frozen fudge stick. Toujours prendre la gauche... à moins de vouloir trahir mes instincts via la droite mais rarement sinon jamais le centre. Why? 'Cause it's right there, the easy way out is also the hard way in.
Two samples of diatribes or “prose” from just prior to the Republican Era. From the journal of “Paul Spitzer” entitled Rush Five-Star (college-ruled).
Untitled [23]
His macaroni was impeccable, his cheese dyed from dead honeysuckle. Little bits of string-cheese wafted wands over his wickerbasket. Threads lifted lightly over his lips, languid heat, linguini ears hear lenticulated bark-calls. Lightly seasons broth, monotone hue, his only friend is Hugh Jass.
Man just in front of the rear exit, belches macaroni, hears the sounds of marching army ants, noxious pip-bomb in his stomach, Sandy eyebrows Creeping umbrella face, leaving his arms inside of pockets. Ten to six, 8 more blocks. Wheezing, cheese breath, I pray for distorted feedback, cacophonous ringing, dead ear-drums. Sunrays blind the man; I know the sound of the devil’s sodomy-song, the last unknown conundrum.
Listening Intently
The sound of marching feet fell
Into the bottle of preached words.
An owl screeched across the dell
Hunting rodents under canopy’s of lords.
The shade inside the glade held mute
Lovers, forbidden to speak without due repute.
The owl flies to a tree, leaves brown
From lack of irrigated till,
Dried from climates long since sound
The product of lost goodwill.
Lightly treading inside of leaky shanties enveloped
With tree pollen, lanky lovers liter their words labeled obsolete.
The mystery orb revealed unknown Utopia,
Sold to those with much stress.
The Lover’s Shanty Glade was a poor-man’s euphoria
Gift for family viewing at Christmas.
Many leaves have fallen over the years, bringing food, fires and famine.
Many years have passed since the idea of Utopia became as novel as satin,
Lightly treading, listening intently, Lovers at the hands of privatization.
Till the earth, the concrete gives room to roots of a dead nation.
As i entered the room, i could smell marihuana fumes with toilet duck. i thought to myself:"mmm... my favorite.". Heraldo was on tv.. the episode on skinheads. didnt live up to my expectations. maybe because i drowned as a kid. We visisted a brewery in grade 7. anyways, back to the matter at hand. i thought i heard a sound coming the kitchen. to my relief it was Nigel, the household cat. he was a heroin addict. He got really depressed when Betty left him. i saw a flight a stairs.. "where do they lead?" i thought to myself. Most likely somewhere with booby traps and poisonous gas. i should avoid at all cost. something on the floor.... meat balls? no wait, corn pops, the real ones, kellogg's... i remember hearing on the radio that the police were looking for a serial killer.
She tells me to commit a rock-star-ish suicide so that her art collection will gain value. I laugh, she doesn't. Go out, with an art bang. 20 bucks worth of cream and all the possibilities. He can keep his fucking rights, I don't want em'.
PUNCHED IN THE FACE. Someone stole your diaphragm. A halt : one small waiting room with the theme from Growing Pains playing on a loop though others claim it is the theme from Family Ties. Whatever, really -- one had Boner and the other had Micheal Gross -- we needn't debate this any further (see: others). We were given a chance to name the waiting room as we went in; we agreed on "BLAND,THE" (yes, Burt Nein is among us). Complacent smirks all around. As a wee lad, the concept of life in prison is simplistic: frigthening due to the isolation -- life behind bars and the loss of certain personal liberties (where the toilet doors be at??). However, you realize there's an added twist to it as you get older, if only to scare you at a now-adult level; you know what I'm talkin' about... ain't no prisoners a-dancin' to the jail house rock no more (as far as I know). For the record, I still believe Bert & Ernie were nothing more than close roomates. Such hostility.
Simon 1 - Thierry 0.
Not to sound like some russian Tetris enthusiast or anything but it would be nice to have some female authors on Equivocal. With our lil' pinkish hues we'll eventually be branded into a different category altogether, until everyone loses interest that is. And you know, all that shit about different gender perspectives and whatnot:
We require authors with somewhat of an evil sense of humor and an (unfortunate) aptitude for writting stories/essays that are of a vague nature. Whether there are facts or profond morals to the entries is not a concern, in fact, the opposite is highly encouraged. Grayscale + Pink duotonish imagery of the same genre is also welcomed (though a maximum width of 400 pixels will be enforced, 'cause something has to be enforced otherwise we lose all sense of authority). Having nice female "features", a plus. Thank you.
Made available via Crick Assembly, the melding of 2 found op-ed pieces believed to be contents of a free publication from the “Rickenbacher.” Theory that moots juxtaposed op-ed pieces suggests an argument/debate between two mutes. Favorable sides not yet established. Commonly referred to as “The Stranger.”
A cold breeze blows over the tilted neck of a young stranger. Barley beats against his knee, a repeated seven/eight rhythm that resonates through the stranger’s body. He is a stranger because he is a changed man. It began a week or so ago, and now it has come to pass that he realizes it. He sleeps less, but more efficiently. He eats less, yet has more vigor. He bides his time better for he knows it cannot manage itself. Time is an infinite thing and a finite thing. The stranger knows he has to manage it somehow without loosing any to infinity. Barley laps his chest. He has fallen sleep in the cold. He will wake up and be determined to go on without hesitation.
Icicles are hanging from the trellis. The old cucumber vines are still there, skeletal remains of a summers worth of produce. We used to race up and down the vines on our way to catch centipedes. When we tired of that, we’d take the rotten vegetables on the table and chuck them at the chain-link fence on the other side of the yard. It would make a mess, yellow tomatoes and orange cucumbers, white eggplants and hollow squash. Here is where I threw seven cherry tomatoes in a row through the little square in the fence. I know the squirrels got to them. I never did get around to eating any of the tomatoes until now. You see, I used to hate them, but now I can deal with them lightly cooked. I do like the cherries, and sun-dried are pretty good, too. They mix great with avocado.
Before goals can be met, routine must be faced. A week may seem like a year, or a month may seem like an hour out of some intolerably long day. Hours pass by; ours seems to be a slow moving clock. The quartz had been decaying into brittle sand. Once the barley has left his shins, the stranger runs through the stone outcrops to the road. The hitchhike is quick and uneventful. Coming back to the city is like a pleasant dream faded to memory. You wish you can go back, but it was something intangible and without any substance. It only felt like bliss for a brief moment. This ephemeral elation is what will be pursued thereafter. Mundanity returns. Three months pass before any indication of a return to this elation is hinted at. Late one night the stranger dreams he is at a wedding, fully dressed in tuxedo. He is alone in a pew, but there is a dog and cat chasing a chipmunk on the rafters. His perspective goes to right above the cat’s head. They eventually catch the chipmunk and devour it in its entirety. The stranger awakes to the smell of boiled cabbage.
Of course, when I think of avocado, I think only of freshly made guacamole. It is possibly the finest food to eat. Fresh cilantro is the key, along with the lime. However, as I’ve discussed with you prior to our departure, hummus is among the finest. Its versatility is unmatched, not even by that green sauce. A chick pea is possibly the finest legume. Without a doubt in my mind, rice and chick peas do rule above all else, their close ally being Gouda. I know you may disagree about rice, but believe you me; no sort of wheat grain can match its combination of substance and versatility. I have heard that nutmeg is the king among all spices. While it may be a pleasant spice, nothing matches salt. When you consider what salt truly is, it seems immaculate. Any comparison becomes futile discussion which I will eschew.
Change can be strenuous, especially for those who loose any sort of power or influence. Is it any wonder we see so much resistance in today’s world? It started three generations ago with our immigrant grandparents meeting our residential ancestors on tenement lined streets. Our “world village” began like a dainty illustration. As I watch this flag poll teeter and sway, I think of those streets where our lineage first became American. The colonists could never have foreseen the diversity of the population that would emerge within the city; the majority of them would probably be dismayed. Here I sit thinking with open ears, open eyes and closed arms.
We now see the stranger in a little café on any street in any city. His cup is turned upside down, letting the tea drip down to the floor in a way that it surrounds his chair. He has promised to clean it up when he is done. When asked by the manager what he is exactly “doing,” the answer is always “realizing.” With a twenty dollar bill on the table, the manager cannot help but empathize. The cold air notwithstanding, the stranger has become oblivious to the elements. An ethereal reticence is established. Music continues to flow through his mind as he sees into many possible futures all stemming from one definite past. Embracing the cold livens everyone to the world around them. A taxi dawdles past on the street, much to the annoyance of everyone. Large French poodles, unshaven, fight pit bulls perpendicular to the café. Young people pass without hesitation to and fro, a potentially chic traffic jam in the works. Gulls have adopted the cross streets as conduits for flying to and from the tidal straits and estuaries. When the rains finally do come, the streets will be ephemeral channels to these estuaries. A deluge would distill much of the area.
The tea has now frozen in a small circle around the base of his chair. The stranger feels he cannot extract anymore from the scene. He has not met with anyone who understands, nor has anyone stopped by to converse. He decides to go south. He takes out his knife and scrapes up the frozen tea, placing the shards next to a tree and walks towards the sun. The twenty dollar bill he has left with the manager has been blown from the table and onto the roof of an idling car. The bill will later be found by a homeless man who will use it to buy four doses of impure heroin which will kill him. In a hundred years he will be reincarnated as a lemon tree standing in the backyard of Homer Laughlin. His daughter, Susan, will eventually become the head of a non-profit organization which will raise enough money to eventually ease most of the poverty on the island of Taiwan. When asked about her inspirations, Susan would usually say the simple, yet enigmatic, statement, “Our lemon tree always encouraged me.” People would interpret this to be a quixotic statement from an affluent do-gooder trying to amend the imperialism of her mogul-lineage. It would influence an idealistic movement, eventually leading to a demilitarized trend all over the world. Nothing like it had happened since the fall of the Roman Empire.
Of course, the most necessary ingredient in cooking has to be water, spices and salt aside. It is not arguable as much as a solemn acknowledgment: flow of discussions. The biggest recipe would be the creation of life, though I hesitate to refer to it in such a way for fear of giving those in favor of Intelligent Design some cannon fodder. You by now know I am more interested in the actually process than any progenitor. This is how most pleasure is attained. Take those rotten vegetables…we had no reason to throw them at the perforations in the fence, yet what fun we had in doing so! There is just a wonderful feeling of actually doing it. However, people are crazy and fanatical. It’s no wonder zealots cannot understand secularists.
She threw knives in restaurant windows and laughed hysterically at the crowd on the other side. We're surrounded by boxing and ferraris. Grand Prix is french for Grand Prize -- wouldn't it suck if it were called Grand Prize? It's the like the Eat-More® of candy bars. In the closed off festival streets of Piccola Italia, a horrid rendition of "What a feeling, NA NA NA NA" (as if the original wasn't bad enough) was sung by what appeared to be some kind of woman (not the one pictured above, mind you) which made us leave the area for a while. She was like the Peter Pan® of peanut butters. The bell tolls for thee and my crotch could be seen by all.
sometimes the hero's effort is in vain. sucker.
