Friday, March 04, 2005

Ok it’s the appointed hour. You knew it was coming. You’ve had plenty of time to back up up to this point so I don’t wanna hear any gather ye may diatribes out of a single one of you, cuz when this shit started, when it was going down, we all got in that huddle together, and even if it wasn’t implicitly said, it was understood, by you, me, and clyde, and Shirley make 4. see it isn’t always the obvious enemies, comin up on your radar, it’s the ones lurking in the dark, “secret spies with eyes,” ya dig, like comin up on ya with a six four impala. All up in your scene like bryllcreme. And not the dollar off variety. Strait up manhattan on the rocks widdattshitt.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

the clippers… won. Don’t despair, it’s not as scary as it sounds.

They’re 3 games back of that 8th playoff spot, yes, still held by the lakers.

So, lemme get this straight, you’re 4 games back of the 8 spot, then you go on an 8 game losing streak, then you manage to win 3 out of 4, and suddenly you’re 3 games back? You somehow made up a game?

Apparently in the not so wild west.

Oh yah, the clips picked up Kenny Anderson. Yes that Kenny Anderson. The one that’s older than even you. (oh snap).

In other news, I promised my proctologist I wouldn’t talk about the clippers anymore. She’s not pleased with my readouts.

And you know, to shit is the shit, so I gotta listen to that shit. Werd.

does God ever get afraid? i mean, if the world was gonna explode, it wouldn't hurt God right? i mean, nothing can stop God. he rules everything. BUT he doesn't interfere, right? i mean, that's why he didn't save that school bus that flew off the mountain. or that GI whut got his brains blown out and saddam husseins sons, and uh, deeprak chopra?? oh no, i think he's still alive. and then also the, uh, that river phoenix guy.

anyway, where was i, oh yah, god, so what would god be afraid of, if anything? the devil? the devil ain't shit, right? i mean, he's like a pest, but is it ever inferred that he's like a legitimate threat? somebody advise me on this matter.

in any event, god is prolly like not afraid of anything then? i don't know how to approach that question. oh yah, i'll NEVER KNOW. thanks a lot dumars for making us all wonder now for the rest of our lives and then into our afterlife of raking leaves on a windblown street as you hear the street cleaner coming down the road and then you turn around and it's not a street cleaner it's a zamboni.

think about it.

the thought sink

kenneth cowan

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

I’m gonna write like a million things that’s how I’ll be the best. And then when I’m the best I’ll come over to your house and drink out of your Stanley cup finals commemorative mug and grab your horse and ride it all the way out to the shire, and then the dirt devil will fall off the wall and hang from it’s cord sturdily & you’ll say “ok.”

There’s like a really random fucktard masterpiece theatre episode, you know, the one with chachi, where he’s, uh, you know, loving Joanie, even though it was joanie that loved him, I mean, wait, shouldn’t there have been the reciprocal, is it wrong to assume, I mean, it’s the fuckin name of the show ferchrissake I mean, if you’re gonna get all retarded like that and name the goddamm fucking show that goddamm fucking name, ok too much gf, too much of the railroad, too much of the pop star nightmare ghost automotans and they’re secret agents with fogged glasses looking down from the grassier knoll, you know, the gnome, the unknown bean counter counting up your destiny in the back stock room of a hidden bakery near you.

Have I mentioned that, eh, fuck that. What I was gonna say is that the way to be is to recognize that your writing is going to be eternal and that you should save each and every bit even if it’s a letter to aunt myrtle about how your stool softening medicine is working fantastically cuz someday you’ll be sooper famous and that shit’ll be worth a lot of money. The writing, not the actual shit. So in any event, that is the way it should be, cuz then you know, you’ll have this feeling like you’re the ultimate, and like, pictures of you 40 years later or whatever will look soooo cool I mean, you’ll be so confident and uber sure of your place in the literary uberverse that no matter what pose you’re striking or what you’re doing or how retarded you may actually in fact look it will be translated into being just the hippest most heppest most insert whatever the fuck word is most appropriate for it in that day & age, of which I can’t pretend to know cuz it’s not like 2050 yet, I mean, shit, get off my back, so, if you follow my advice, and come to my seminar, and do all the shit that I say but don’t do and be sure of yourself and the fact that you just might be the best writer since, shit, I dunno, methuselah’s biographer, then and only then will you know true schwartzness. Ok, not that, but, I mean, you’ll be immortal, and isn’t that all we’re looking for in one way or another, different versions of living on past our mortal coils? Some do it with words, some with pictures, some have their heads chopped off & thrown in a freezer but it all comes down to making some kind of a permanent mark on this world, which is really laughable when you think about it cuz earth’ll prolly just get blown up by aliens someday anyway.

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

Ok let’s see if uh I type a bunch of shit a wizard will come out of a wardrobe or some shit like that.

Fuck, it didn’t happen.

See, that’s what I mean, what a total load of bullshit.

so, uh, yah, I was gonna do some big dillio where I reprinted a bunch of shit, but checking out, or rather, recommending that you check out, this shit that I wrote, re: hst & tom eagleton, well, that should be sufficient. I think I already said that. In a different way. Um, fuck, I can’t remember, who gives a shit anyway.

so, yah, nuthin much to say, which means it's the perfect time to ramble on about repetitive bullshit & bore you to tears and make you wish you'd never been born, at least in the same hemisphere as a goat's ass like the one typing on this keyboard right now, not that hemispheres or locations therein really make much of a difference when you're dealing with the innernet, i mean, i could be in tim mufuckin buck tooth and you could be in like the arcane mystic arts museum in downtown albuquerque & it could be figuratively, well, in actuality, literally, if you're not thinking in terms of actual physical space, that we're right there in the same room, blah blahing all day back & forth about random ass crapsterpiece (copyright, just kidding) shit that nobody gives even one quarter of a rat's asshole about. but you know that already. the one room anolagous type shit. not the rat's asshole bit. but you prolly knew that already too. well, not necessarily KNEW it, but you were thinking it, weren't you? yup, sure you weren't.

Monday, February 28, 2005

i dunno mayne, i read that shit again, the hst part, and i just feel so far off on it. like i'm not even close. like, well, actually, i'm in the neighborhood, fuck, i don't know, he wasn't necessarily going for shock value, he was just being him, he was throwing shit out there, the drug culture, and making it like, so people knew it was there, it wasn't necessarily evil, but don't sugarcoat it, it was what it was, he didn't try to pull some leary shit, like, lsd will save your life, your soul, etcetera, he was like, lsd will fuck you up & it's fun, but don't be surprised when you wake up at of your raving delirium and you kinda fucked some shit up or some shit like that, or, depending on your ability to handle, shit, you prolly didn't. i dunno, fuck, this is why i have not really talked about it, cuz honestly, it's really all over the fucking place for me. i could go on & on and get further and further into the most jackhole dissertation ever opined. or not. FUCK IT. that's it. done. brooks & dunn, all that shit. until later, when i have more dumbfuck shit to say about it.

Mannn I gots ta start regulatin on what goes outta the duckets ville acre section, not that I don’t already, but I mean, getting warren g slash nate nasty on that shit not only on myself but on the contingent’s other representative about whut where when why the crunkinator’s special sauce is accommodated, wait, not the sauce, the chicken, the cheddah, the soup, fuck, all that shit, you know whut I mean? Or you prolly don’t. I mean, how could you?

The cool thing is that just by typing up some bullshit I just made 10 dollars, the shitty part is that I don’t get it for like another month & the fact that it’s just 10 dollars. But if I can repeat that action like 50 or 60 times, I’ll be like a hundred-aire. And no I’m not pretending to have made up that word.

You may have noticed if you give half of a donkey’s ass that all I’ve basically written about besides the vagaries of applesauce are two basic subjects lately, them being hunter s. thompson’s surprise suicide and the los angeles clippers. So in fact, just to be so predictable and bore you to tears even more I will belabor further in those environs.

The clippers won their second in a row. But don’t get too excited, last nite they beat the shittiest team in the league and tonite they gotta head out to utah, in which they haven’t won since like the original mormon, john Jacob jingleheimer or whatever the fuck his name was, yeah, since he was baggin like 85 hoes at once, and then 87 on Sunday, and then none on Saturday, cuz that’s the day he lets the Johnson rest and it’s like holy or some shit like that.

As for HST, well, I mean, hope he’s resting peacefully wherever the fuck he’s at. He went out on his terms, his way, he never sold the fuck out, never let anybody tell him the fuck how it was done, and, shit, I’m still bummed he’s gone, and I think the thing that gets me the most is there will never be another like him. Not even close. And that’s a good & bad thing at the same time. Just like the 70’s, he will never occur again, we’ll never be quite that naïve, will we, that what some madman druggie says can have so much affect on the previously undisturbed and unperturbed masses. The information age has jaded us all to the point that you can spread eagle a donkey in times square and have tax brokers take turns defecating on it’s exposed ass-tulip and prolly the only person that would bat an eye would be ex mayor giuliani, who would like get his comb over all in a hissy and prolly pee his pants. Fuck that guy.