| (no subject) |
[Feb. 6th, 2006|09:06 am] |
I rarely write here, but then again I rarely smoke blunts and I smoked them twice this weekend and I'm back in school and wishing it was the summer. Rich is next to me and playing Mike tysons punch out and I'm really hoping this week goes by fast which I'm sure it will. I look foward to the nights when I can lay down close to Jules and listen to music. I have a play to look foward to, I have cookies to make on Thursday, and i have an Eraserhead stencil that needs to be put to some use, so with things to look foward the week should be broken up fairly well.
This weekend I want to get really really really drunk with Jules. We already decided its going to happen. We have nowhere to go, nothing to do, but we're going to get drunk.
I want to go to a live show. I haven't been to one in awhile. I'd say my last was some free show in the city in september in tompkins square were i wound up getting a 40 which I was forced to drink in a st. marks mcDonalds bathroom. Then I ran into Nixxi there who spent the entire weekend doing methadone so she couldn't really talk because she wasn't really alive. But i went off on a tangent, and i wan't to go to a show, and i wanted to go to the sigur ros show but its expensive and i don't have money. ever. well, I'm going to death cab with Jules in april and they make her happy so that will be good. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Jan. 4th, 2006|03:41 pm] |
I kind of want to start listening to ol' dirty bastards "nigga please" album everyday for 8 months but i'm not sure if i have the time. I might be able to factor it in. I'm figuring i need about an hour and half, i may do it before i go to sleep, but i usually read then.
I got 4 days in school today. My Ms. Baron ID care (good luck charm) wasn't much luck today. But i didn't get my balls broken at the home, came home, talked to Jules, ate peanut butter and jelly, listened to Run DMC, so i can't really complain.
I realized what cum tastes like yesterday. (accidently) |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Jan. 3rd, 2006|01:01 pm] |
I'm sitting in computer class right now. I'm listening to the Weakerthans. I just thought I was about to pass out because out of nowhere the room kinda started spinning, everything looked like it was on a slant, and i felt somewhat numb. But that little thing was like a summer thunderstorm.
I'm surprised I can keep my eyes open now. I spent all of last night laying down, stairing at the ceiling, thinking about Eraserhead, and making up additonal scenes in my mind while i was drifing on the brink of consciousness and unconsciousness. I thought about Jules for awhile, i thought about college also, and then i just decided I was tired of thinking and i got my ipod and listened to nigga please.
I feel I was productice reading-wise over this vacation. I finished John Fantes "Brotherhood of the grapes", almost finished Camus "the Stranger", Bukowski "Post office", and am almost halfway through Richard Perezs "Losers club", and maybe if i spent as much time doing school work as i did reading over the vacation, i wouldn't have fucking been deferred from albany. but fuck albany. and fuck college. and fuck ms blankopf. The only good things are fat kids being shot with paintballs, news reporters rapidly crushing grapes in what seems like a contest and falling and making the most ridiculous noises known to the human race, Ol' dirty bastard, Jules, and Darrens beard.
I'm clearly killing time right now, so heres one of my favorite Charles bukowski poems. Not as raunchy as the last one i posted.
lonely as a dry and used orchard
spread over the earth
for use and surrender.
shot down like an ex-pug selling
dailies on the corner.
taken by tears like
an aging chorus girl
who has gotten her last check.
a hanky is in order your lord your
worship.
the blackbirds are rough today
like
ingrown toenails
in an overnight
jail---
wine wine whine,
the blackbirds run around and
fly around
harping about
Spanish melodies and bones.
and everywhere is
nowhere---
the dream is as bad as
flapjacks and flat tires:
why do we go on
with our minds and
pockets full of
dust
like a bad boy just out of
school---
you tell
me,
you who were a hero in some
revolution
you who teach children
you who drink with calmness
you who own large homes
and walk in gardens
you who have killed a man and own a
beautiful wife
you tell me
why I am on fire like old dry
garbage.
we might surely have some interesting
correspondence.
it will keep the mailman busy.
and the butterflies and ants and bridges and
cemeteries
the rocket-makers and dogs and garage mechanics
will still go on a
while
until we run out of stamps
and/or
ideas.
don't be ashamed of
anything; I guess God meant it all
like
locks on
doors. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Jan. 2nd, 2006|03:46 pm] |
this has been a really good vacation, i got to spend a lot of time with people i care about, and drank a lot (and managed to get only one hangover), made it into the city with Jules like we've wanted to for awhile, got a record player, and bought eraserhead. I rediscovered an amazing Weakerthan cd, realized the musical genious of ol' dirty bastard, purchased the chronic on vinyl (with a shirt to go along with it), took bonghits and listened to black sabbath. But none of that is what really made the vacation, they were enjoyable, yes, but it was the fact that I spent everyday with Jules, that we got to watch eraserhead together, that we went into the city, that we drove around, went to the beach, went to the cove, and we're just happy together.
Some highlights-- puking out my nose, 15 packs of strohs, reading charles bukowski books, ball breakers on trains, in heaven everything is fine, the stickiest of the icky, tents were pitched
I feel now is a great time to quote an influential, profound individual, who has touched countless lives with his music.... Russel Tyrone Jones, AKA Ol' dirty bastard, AKA ODB, AKA Big Baby Jesus, AKA Ol' Dirt Dog, AKA Joe Bananas, AKA Freeloading Rusty, AKA Dirt McGirt, AKA The Professor, AKA the bebop specialist, AKA The specialist, AKA Prince Delight, AKA Unique Ason, AKA Dirt Schultz
" I don't have a problem with you fucking me, I just have a problem with you not fucking me"
Touching. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Dec. 23rd, 2005|07:07 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | Empty Silos Echo War | ] |
Christmas break. Its Friday. 7:07. Today was pretty fun. Wake and bake, happy hat day, ridiculous music in kaplans class, unlimited bathroom passes, maltese hates me, pot, pot, sleep, family guy. Tomorrow is christmas eve. I'm going into the city with family, were looking at the tree, we're going out to eat to an amazing resteraunt, lights, colors, it should be enjoyable.
This year is going way to fast. Its basically Janauary, which means the year is halfway over more or less, and it supposedly just gets much faster from here, and if it anything i'd prefer for it to slow down to an almost complete halt because i'm really happy at this point. I enjoy my time spent with jules, i enjoy my easy school schedule, i enjoy the freedom that being a senior entails (although the school administration has a pretty tight kung-fu grip on my balls)
I'm gonna try to make plans for this evening. I don't want to sit in front of the computer screen any longer because the computer screen will be a large portion of this vacation. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Dec. 20th, 2005|11:56 am] |
| [ | music |
| | Velvet underground- Sunday morning | ] |
I rarely update this because i'm lazy, and am rarely motivated to do anything with the exception of naps with jules,eating food, and smoking pot with 30 year olds, but today, while i was sitting in talented writers, mrs. koegal was saying how the language in one of the poems we were reading didn't seem poetic, seemed to blunt, to conversational.. I wish she could have seen this one....
Like A Flower In The Rain
I cut the middle fingernail of the middle
finger
right hand
real short
and I began rubbing along her cunt
as she sat upright in bed
spreading lotion over her arms
face
and breasts
after bathing.
then she lit a cigarette:
"don't let this put you off,"
an smoked and continued to rub
the lotion on.
I continued to rub the cunt.
"You want an apple?" I asked.
"sure, she said, "you got one?"
but I got to her-
she began to twist
then she rolled on her side,
she was getting wet and open
like a flower in the rain.
then she rolled on her stomach
and her most beautiful ass
looked up at me
and I reached under and got the
cunt again.
she reached around and got my
cock, she rolled and twisted,
I mounted
my face falling into the mass
of red hair that overflowed
from her head
and my flattened cock entered
into the miracle.
later we joked about the lotion
and the cigarette and the apple.
then I went out and got some chicken
and shrimp and french fries and buns
and mashed potatoes and gravy and
cole slaw,and we ate.she told me
how good she felt and I told her
how good I felt and we
ate the chicken and the shrimp and the
french fries and the buns and the
mashed potatoes and the gravy and
the cole slaw too.
Charles Bukowski |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Nov. 23rd, 2005|12:57 pm] |
So there was this 2000 word argumentative essay I was supposed to have finished by today. It's not. I'm not the least bit surprised. I know myself all to well and saw it coming when she told us about it. Anyway, thanksgiving weekend, I'm excited. This weekend will consist of eating golden caped mushrooms and seeing outside my normal realm of understanding, eating food until I taste the throwup in my mouth and have to swallow it and then lay down and watch Jurassic park 3 times in a row, my first taste for bubble tea, roof status, an eastern long island excursion and 40 ounces of Olde English until I can't feel my face.
Darren might go to oneonta. We'll smoke weed and eat pizza hut and pretend were still in Long Beach. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Nov. 21st, 2005|12:31 pm] |
This weekend wasn't half bad. Friday consisted of leaving school early, buying 40s with absoutely no ball breaking included in the fine print, drinking them with Jules, and getting a nice surprise when we stood up and realized that the alcohol had leaked into our bloodstream, watching the moon hide behind clouds and tress branches, Leigh Bedia calling my cell phone and informing me that everyone who spoke to told him to go fucking himself, random drunken phone calls, lingering desires to climb on jules roof and stare into the night sky, and smoking weed in a sukkot with darren, while Ian stood above us, and we came upon the realization that he lives every second of his life stoned.
Saturday- Alcohol, wrapping of penis around wrist when someone asked what time it was, breaking (or possibly shattering) of ring finger knuckle on left hand during the most brutal game of bloody knuckles ever, drunken ping pong, beating everyone, no body caring, darren crutching home drunk, cop pulling me over, making me dump out beer while i casually gave her a synopsis of my night.
Sunday- Work, hangover, room spinning, weed, jules, donnie darko. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Nov. 12th, 2005|12:54 am] |
So today I drove out to Kings Park abandoned mental asylum with some friends and spent the ride there spacing out to suicide blasting on the radio, while we swerved down long suffolk county roads with the last trace of autumns red and yellow and orange leaves lingering in the trees. We parked the car, and walked around, and it was cold. Me and dave climbed into the window of some rotted, ominious building, and smoked weed. Each crumbling, moldy corner, came to life. We saw a teddy bear. There were cages, and bars, and it was easy for the imagination to run astray. I kept thinking the floor would collaspe under me, and I would be trapped in a dark, inderground cave with the insanse ghost who just walk around making noises and pulling peoples intestines out, but thankfully, that didn't happen. As we walked from building to building, we gradually got more stoned. We stopped to smoke on the steps of some abandoned factory, we smoked in some little crevice, and watched suffolf kids, as trendy and myspacesque as anyone by us. They wanted adventures. They were bored. They showed us a map, that was pretty cool. A cop talked to us for 45 minutes. That wasn't cool. There was haunted steps, and leaves rustling, and pitch black corridors that led to pitch black tunnels that probably led to hell. I stayed stoned for awhile. I listened to neutral milk hotel, and tried to think of poetry in my mind, and it sounded so beauitufl and perfect at the time, and the only thing i remember now was "These wide open battle fields, they are the underground, those flesh eating swords, thats our punk rock" and I thought about god, and i thought about ghosts, and i thought of the weed burning my lungs, and i thought about asbetos. And now i wanna go to sleep. |
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
donthinktwice88's journal