AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (21) A Non Special Day (Short Stories) Just a saturday morning. [515 words] Bardo Blurb (Essays) Drinking a beer in a bar, some thoughts! [311 words] Cmon You Can Tell Me (Short Stories) Let's compare notes on our moms and dads... [523 words] Coffee At Starbucks (Short Stories) Another twisted tale involving your favorite superhero's, Nullman and Superman. [1,188 words] [Humor] Death To Fascism (Poetry) The title and the poems have no connection ;) [128 words] Dirty Apartment (Short Stories) Description of my dirty apartment and its cause, me. [756 words] [Humor] Friday Evening (Short Stories) Is the hero a scumbag? An ordinary friday night turns into a sexual orgy. [1,947 words] I Get Arrested (Short Stories) The title says it all. [812 words] I Love Phoebe Gloeckner (Short Stories) Imagine emailing your favorite artist/celeb. and getting a reply back... Phoebe Gloeckner is da BOMB. she does serious comix, phenomenal art and storytelling.... along with Crumb and Bukowski the bes... [873 words] Lunch (Poetry) Lunch break. [45 words] [Drama] Paloma Pena (Short Stories) Sigh! so many girls, so little time. [385 words] [Action] Poems (Poetry) Miscellaneous poetry. [134 words] Roch (Short Stories) Cybersex. [289 words] [Biography] Sad Poem (Short Stories) i cut my soul and let it bleed on the paper. [295 words] Tainted But Trying (Short Stories) On level five and slipping lower into Dante's Inferno... [811 words] The Horror Of Existence (Short Stories) Musings on a shitty moment in time. [573 words] The Sound Of Laces (Short Stories) a womans erotic night is sparked by her high heeled leather boots. [830 words] Think (Short Stories) Philosophically I hit it on the nail... but the last paragraph still displeases me. [1,427 words] Tiny Pink Pills (Short Stories) Ain't life a bytch!!! [757 words] Whacker Than Whack (Short Stories) This kinda amuses me... but, I don't know if it's the stupidity or genius of it. [778 words] What Can I Say? (Short Stories) Hmmm... did I make this up or lift this shit? you decide. [676 words]
Jingle Bell Sunny
jingle bell, jingle bell, drink two cups of coffee and you can hear the bells. caffeinated is how i would describe myself right now, leviated off reality and deviating into scientology. i need a religious awakening some sort of moral fiber in my day to day hedonistic, fuck it all up schedule. a rock steady mantra of belief in something, a religion, which has a lot of rules, which i can then use to organize my life by. scientology is an option. the basic tenents are simple, give your money to us, thereby alleviating the need to worry about what to do with your money. in return you get a gift of much higher value, namely bullshit.
it reminds me of Dustin Hoffman in this movie, where he explains to his kid, that life is all about various layers of bullshit. as we grow up, each person chooses the layer of bullshit they most like and adopt it as their own. that's how individuals find their place in society, they choose a layer and associate with people of that layer. my layer is somewhat thinly populated, it's not very popular. it's the layer of freaks, weirdo's and losers. i know you want to laugh and think how much better you are, but really this could be the best layer, if there is such a thing. to paraphrase another favorite artist, phoebe gloeckner, each individual believes in the veracity of their own outlook, therefore nullifying a truly objective assessment of the various layers by any one person, making all layers and people therefore subject to their own hallucinations.
enlarging on this concept, society therefore is one big hallucination. yes, i am waxing somewhat philosophical and everyone knows what a big crock of shit that is. i mean what about existentialism and all of that deidre and other new wave interpretation of language junk. i took a class on it and those essays are super complex, i mean they really get down to the nitty gritty of the matter at hand. but, if you look at the bigger picture, you can essentially break everything down to one or two simple rules. life/existence is essentially a paradox. there's the yin and the yang, the good and the bad, up and down. where we fit in this dichotomy is totally upto our own subjective self.
i realize i am fucking this up and not being very coherent, but pardon my fucking coffee liberated consciousness. dull moments like this require no energy from the brain and all the nonsense can just seep out and splatter all over this pristine white page. i feel like crying, then like flying then like dying. i should write more poems, i like rhyming stuff, even when writing. good poets like to deride rhyming, they want the 7/11 meter or whatever good meter/rhyme scheme good poetry should follow. me i don't care, i write how i feel like. if it should come out all fucked up, awesome, great, sometimes one doesn't have the energy to bend one's thoughts into great pieces of literature. it's all junk anyway. my sarcastically dismissive attitude is no doubt inspired by my own inability to write well. whatever, i'm gonna get another cup of koaffee.
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