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] Jingle Bell (Short Stories) Even simple liquieds have adverse effects on this universe. [537 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] 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]
Think Sunny
there are few things better that listening to some fine ass kicking music at work, drinking coke typing shit in your blacked out room with every other grunt already out for the day, but you still having to be there getting paid for it and doing no work but having all fun. the white light of the tube next to me reflects off my papers as i debate whether i have the will to do some work, however i reflect that it is all pretty much useless and all this work i do here while being useful in the short term for some project or the other is not really valuable in the long run. it all depends on how you categorize useful, but anything that doesn't add to our appreciation of life directly can hardly be deemed useful. take my work, i am a year 2000 automated testing consultant, while i dig my moniker and like explaining about it to people, it doesn't really matter, i mean even if the computers were not fixed, it's not like the entire system is going to come crashing around. at this point i had typed up a lot of other shit also about war, hitler, U.S. and missiles, world domination, etc but my MOTHER FUCKING, DOG HUMPING PIECE OF SHIT PC froze and sure enough i lost all that valuable groovy writing, at which you are probably laughing, what miss this jerk's writing, keep on laughing buster, soon as i get published and am drinking extremely dry martini's while kissing etremely wet kisses, you'll be sitting in your ratty bedroom, reading my books and going how the fuck does he do that. to be sure, it's all down there.
anyway on a different tack it's friday evening today and guess what i had enough sleep last night to rip this shit open. i plan on smoking a joint or two, drinking a lot of beers and in general forgetting why i should be worried or thinking about anything on this stinking planet. the only thoughts should be alcohol inspiring leering and weed inspired tripping. you ask of what use such a existence, why not contemplate questions of a higher order, but that's what i am saying bitch, i have been contemplating questions of a higher order, what i need now is to either get fucked or to do some fucking. i know people out there will be saying another doss fucker who wants to be cool to say he did this and did that, and honestly i do want to be cool and be able to brag about it and watch people look at me admiringly and coddle up to me and try to curry favor with me. my phone would be going off the hook, people after people would come to spend their evenings with me trying to impress or get impressed and the women there would be no end to the women... all fucking shit. i ain't getting none and most people i meet irritate me. my best friend irritates me, all my dreams and hopes and inspirations have actually really been crushed, at 24 years of age i've given up the entire fucking game. i no longer care or think about what the next day will bring me. i have trouble getting out of bed every morning and have trouble getting into bed every evening. my day in between is meaningless and devoid of anything which brings orgasms of joy to me. the majority of my thoughts and sensations are trivial, infact i encourage trivialization, obsessing over various people, ideas and actions that i have encountered. people say look at the larger picture and derive a sense of order in your life from it. i look at the larger order and it doesn't seem order to me at all it looks like someone masturbated and then came over some colored paper, sketched his cum around a little bit more and voila there you have it, LIFE, complete and glorious in all it's detail.
am i depressing you, not to worry, you'll forget it, life moves forward and you'll move forward too, that's another thing that obsesses me. i don't want my life to move forward, i don't want it to go anywhere, the addition of additional sensation, thoughts, ideas, actions frightens me, i am rendered incomprehensible by it all. not by the sheer volume that life throws at you, but by the fact that there is no end in sight, somewhere it all started and as far as i can tell sometime it will end and in between we are thrown in and we live our little bits of this odyssey and try to make sense out of it. we order our lives into childhood, school, college and then work. sure there's always a little partying on the weekend, but lets not loose sight of the larger goal to become productive human beings, who build houses and kids and cars and laws and enforce laws all the time getting older, wrinkled, happy, sad, drunk whatever till the day they die. it all makes no sense to it, that's why i prefer the premevial to this blaise reality. lets not have any rules except the rules we make and while we have the power to make these rules lets make them all in our favor. by "our" i mean in my own favor. why think of her or him or society, it's all about me, a liberated consciousness spitting all over everybody else, although i have been spit on often enough, but just realizing this concept makes me happy enough. now when i am driving my car down the road and a good looking woman passes me by and she's trying to pull the panties oout of her ass, oh so discretely, i don't just look i stare. even when she glares at me to try and shame me of my action, i just grin back, what's up babe, life's all good you have a ass, i have eyes, were just passing by, why ignore us and this moment, what do i really care about your ass and the panties going up that ass. i no longer obsess about sex and women, i have realized that there's nothing special there , just some tits and a cunt, and a mental circuitry which is different from man's. i don't care i look at everyone, men, women, cats, dogs, buildings and i see nothing in them, just what they are, what they represent, another walking, talking, barking, standing piece of existence. i don't bother unlocking life's mysteries and puzzles, philosophy is beyond me now, the more i smoke the worse my spelling and my sentence construction. i don't care, i look forward to my death, and if like buddha says we get reincarnated then all the better, i'll have another life to waste, wallow and fuck around in.
5:30 and nobody's bothered me all day, what bliss, i almost wish i was taking the metro home, kinda like looking at all the people, staring at the insanity that we have all gone through this week and trying to see it's stamp on each person's face. some look back, some glower and some stay sullenly behind their facade. i don't care i see in each what i want. i realize none of the stuff above is very coherent not to say showing any flowing order, but i sincerely don't care, prose doesn't need or have to be flowing, order is a thing of the past, although i will probably contradict myself down the line. another thing i don't care about is money, in that while i need it to survive physically, i don't really want it. especially when it comes to prose, when it comes to something i realize is really very near and dear to me, i have decided to reject my association of money and even fame for that matter with my prose. if nobody was to read my stuff and agree with me or praise me for it, saying what noble and intelligent ideas i had, that would be fine with me. if i can go to my grave in peace, it really doesn't matter, but for sure i doubt that will be happening, everybody in my family likes to go to the grave as troubled and fucked up as when they realized the world wasn't made for their own private fucking pleasure. so see you up there in HELL, heaven sure as HELL doesn't exist.
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