Saturday, June 18, 2005
Goddamm, I’m getting tired now. It’s roundabout quarter after one in the morning on Saturday out here in the islands, and honestly, it’s time to go lay my head down and ponder all the imponderables. Don’t hate me for giving up in midstream of pontificating unpontificatables to and with you. And yes, I don’t believe that anything is beyond the realms of bouncing around the old noggin in a relevant framework, it’s just an expression, nah mean? Eh. It doesn’t really matter if you do or if you don’t, I still get my payoff from the maltavian mafia in 8 each 5 dollar bills delivered under the almost ingenious guise of a kickback rebate from compusa. Those dumb motherfuckers. May they burn in purgatory and then graduate to that school with whatshisname and Brenda from 90210. eh. So, yah, take er easy & get er done. Etcetera acres. Gracias.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Yo. So I’ve forced my hand as it were and got one of the boys kidnapped by nefarious forces. Of course this can be changed but the beauty of it is that now I’ve got yet another springboard and this being shit that is actually happening, cliché as it sounds, rather than just Grecian urn type shit with some person just thinking to himself about ad infinitum type bullshit all day long while banging on a monkey shine 2x4. you know? Cuz fuck all that.
Yup. So the venue for this eve will def include crown royal &, uh, nba finals, and, um, prolly having to help this guy move some more shit and then combined with an overabundance of conversation mixed in with wondering about being somewhere at midnight to see that joe chill meets the wayne foundation type shit, but, nah, tomorrow in its petty pace will have to creep from day to day. Out out brief flashlight, etc., you know what I mean.
Mannnn, I gotta make this really irritating phone call right now which is just plagued with potential inaccuracies and, well, I mean, not ill will, but I’m gonna be digging for info of which I have no technical right digging, and management is asking me to, cuz they know I’m the man, and I’ve got the skills, you know, well, I mean, it’s supposed to be all official and said entity is not supposed to give me a clue but because we’re on a friendly basis, I mean, not like “friend” friend, but business acquaintance, I’m supposed to use my charm to weasel info against the competition. It’s like, why don’t the upper echelon go after that shit? The lame thing is is that I won’t get extra scrilla for this booshit. Although this account has kicked me down funds in the past and present & future, and all those are secured, so, fuck it, bridges were meant for throwing gas on and then hovering over menancingly with a match, natch?
Heh. I totally forgot I had wrote this crap. Uh, the phone call went well, if not in the exact direction I was expecting. now to properly work the angles for the benefits of both self and the almighty teat. Yah, laters. Oooh, & I just figgered out how to do it. Ok, bye, imaginary friend in my throat. May you drown in ovaltine, and don’t worry, that’s a compliment of the highest order.
Howdy, hiya, etc. I was up late and, well, shouldn’t say was, am, up late, but was, you know, talking story about politics etc. from the 70’s, 60’s and today, and shiz like that, cuz you know, the 80’s & 90’s didn’t really happen. Aside from the berlin wall coming down and monica lewinsky getting a cigar up her cooter it was all one big mushroom hallucination.
Anyway, also, I made a total ass out of myself earlier today by losing my temper like a raving madman, but that’s just the way shit has to go down sometimes, yah? Not to say I wasn’t totally unjustified, in fact, I was pretty fucking justified, but to say I went overboard and way beyond the realms of civilized behavior would be a true & accurate statement as well as something of a mild understatement as well, so yeah, there’s that, and that’s the way it is. Cue overrated rapper and his posse.
Not sure why I’m even typing this crap, but I swore I would crank out random ass crapsterpieces and or serious literature every night before I go & pass out in my hammock made of lamb’s wool from the shores of persia’s beach of navarrone, and even though that place is totally nonexistent the fact of the matter in no way shape or form gives me some form of “out” on my self-imposed responsibilities.
No one, including myself, however, said that there had to be any kind of quality control involved in this shit, though. And thank allah, the camels, god, and the jehovah’s witness protection program for that beautiful non-fact. Aloha.
Monday, June 13, 2005
I woke up at almost noon today, watched aliens vs. predator, took my dog for a walk, tried calling mrs. P but the lines are clogged, ate a frozen pizza dillio and am now watching san antone beat up on Detroit.
I need to come up with a creative original idea that hasn’t been done before. I could come up with a rehash of an idea that’s been done 85 times but I know I can do better. I’m probably wrong. It’s likely time to sell out to the highest bidder. Hello weekly world news, gracias para la dollar fifty.
Fuck. Ok, back. I’m pissed. I somehow lost 5 dollars on a blockbuster transaction. And it was cash, so there’s no way to trace it down. One five dollar bill, lost in the winds, who knows where. Damn. And Oedipus thought he had a tragedy on his hands. I tell ya.
Ok I just cranked out 582 werds on the master thesis, the preamble end. Did I tell you that there’s just as much production going on at the front as in the back? I’m pretty sure that the 60k I wrote already is just the middle. Kind of like a star wars thing where the front & the back will grow like a head and a pair of feet. Except I ain’t george lucas and the thing I’m building will end up as a tattered manuscript in some old drunk’s garage sandwiched in between boxes of comics and spoiled mildewed dreams. Or not. Don’t think I’m taking the woe-is-me pathway. I’m not. Serially. It’s just inane to compare myself to one of the most successful creative forces without getting a little self-defamatory.
Bah. fuck it all. I’mma crank out another 400 at least and then call it a nite, read some updike, maybe some U of Alaska literary mag shit, pass out on a pillow of broken platitudes. Shit like that.
Ok, I just did it; 1,086 words for the night. Plus this shit slash crap slash horse manure. plus a couple paragraphs of notes to self. yay for productivity, such as it is. Go me. Slap on the back to go with the one across the face.
Hope all is well in, uh, shitland, or wherever you stay. Peace.