metrosexual french terrier

It makes absolutely no sense to subject a pooch to the bullshit of a city! They get confused as fuck, which exactly explains why they sniff around so much in disillusion, and why they turn into this psycho, charging forward on sidewalks even though they choke the shit out of themselves. i think...that these dogs purposely choke themselves because they have such a albatross for a "master" and they don't know how to explain all these intense scents, they would rather end it all now. What is it about these superficial chicks who get puppy chihuahuas, feed them and feed them until they turn into these fat chihuahuas with crazy health problems?

FM Frequencies from dwarf planets

Today I listened to the radio and the song "Unforgettable" by Natalie & Nat King Cole was on. I was caught with one foot off the carousel...it brought me back to when i was around 8 or so, when I was into eating lots of salt by itself, when my mom listened to the coles every day while she mulled around the house about things i don't know still. I member when she built dishes a lot and also cakes for almost every birthday party we were dragged to...dragged like dead bodies. She listened mostly to Nat though because I guess he had that mysterious dark mexican banderas voice except without the accent. What? She listened mostly with the volume on level way too loud and when this went down it wasn't like baking was a chore but an obsessive circumstance of adventure lacking any sort of mobility. It was an adventure I guess, because my mother maneuvered with charisma and concentration. She spoke of nothing, yet there were a thousand or so bubbles inside the eyes at all times. But when Nat's albums were on, they just ran and ran, syndicated over and over like Oprah. I hated it and hated the fact that she never resigned. She never tired from the strings, the kind made to soundtrack gossamer lips, nor the angst of ebony and ivory lingering in the high octave. I only did because I heard them enough to play on a pink kazoo. The songs became ambiant noise and I remember all that I could really get into during these times were looking out the window set upon white curtains flailing from my Mickey, who's bark was loud and powerful and scared the jesus out of the curtains. That psycho was unstoppable. But I did love watching my moms sitting on the counter while i dipped my pinky in condensed milk, lick it off and swirl it around against the roof of my mouth where dummies usually burn with hot pizza. Condensed milk was a sword among crowbars back then but I bet it would give me crazy diarhea nowadays. Conclusively, this song made me think about all this, and hence, this song is now pretty tolerable. I tip my hat.

Number two and no magazines

the modern mind substitutes stability for agility...and in the process, our our poor self image is predicated upon the expectations and manifestations of others, who all have an idea, but no solid clue of me or you. We inebriate our neighbors while they swallow and swallow, tumble around in stupor, evade sincerity and endorse the attention craved mickey mouse face. We engineer a stable of thoroughbred bullshitters, who fool fools.

heart wide open

finally understood the mishapps misshaped...finally free. thanks I M for your story. It means so much.

none of the above

we are never alone...we percieve we are alone...on the surface...but there is a band of humans...awaiting their arrival for whatever destination they predict and will for themselves...but it's not about that...it's about the calming in the storm...it's accepting the conditions that are brought before you...and being sincere in whatever it brings you to...love...who knows what that is...it's mostly a social construct...it's mostly what people share...but it's beautiful and we are ever so greatful for the expression

Fuck you very much Charter Cable

Enough said.

Under a hoodie

Today I saw an old man,
knee high socks, sandals,
sparce hair and loneliness,
showering the pigeons with grain.
I saw a cloud-making machine,
each nimbus evolving one after the other.
A man with dark bags under his eyes
sees life with a tint.
He sits at the bus stop,
awaiting his time to come.
After looking at these people,
I felt l was looking at myself.
I am the product of cats inside out
on the left lane freeway.
I hate that how I feel is always at
the tip of my tongue, and that it's never
appropriate to say how i feel.

Laying penniless in a wishing well,
it's impossible to wish well for anyone.

Stretching out

The threads have torn.
They decend to the grass.
Inside the hole is an eyeball.
It looks up and around.
He pokes out fingers,
he pokes out toes.
The cocoon is trembling.
He shall emerge...

me suspects me must...

...measure psi level of her lips somehow...me believes..me confuseds...

out of libra

i keep seeing people trip, not like urban slanguage but like the accidental stutter of foot to floor. the reoccuring theme is trip, continue walking, look back like there was some unnecessary obstruction from another planet at that moment in time, existing for the only purpose of tripping that person, then the denial of the trippage, and the ignoring of me completely witnessing it. people be trippin!!!

in other news, i have recently developed a deep deep fear of static shock, as it has been occuring at least too many times when i encounter too many things...i'm afraid to shake people's hands. i've fallen to the robots....