and everyone move around with ease, and everyone...
would you forgive me if i disappeared for a...
left to right, up and up and inside outright, good...
fuck your sad songs, gringo
boy claims life is precious, but still masturbates
my days are like a rockstar smashing a guitar on stage. i kinda feel like the rockstar smashing the guitar, and i kinda feel like the guitar being smashed, and i kinda feel like the feeling of smashing guitars.
excuse me while i quote large chunks of a memoir...
“But how does one translate feelings from one language to another?” - “But English is not the language of that place, that time. So how can I give that child a real voice? I’m writing as though crippled, struggling to do the impossible, trying to find release through words and frustrated by the confines of a dictionary. But are there words to describe the events that...
Where is the sky? I feel like a man coming back to claim the territory where he grew up. But one look at the childrens’ smiling faces and I know that no, it’s their turn. Why am I walking in the opposite direction of which they’re running? There, at the end of the invisible parade, like the queen, the grand finale, only, so plain. There she is. Blonde hair. I ask, “How old...
juggling itouch and phone. have to flaunt my being...
i want to leave everything.
my not-giving-a-fucks are often genuine to the...
i'm too young to have thoughts keeping me up at...
at your own burial don’t for- get to cry at your own burial
tumblr is becoming a little more mobiley compatible. kudos to the admins.
piece of a poem i won't finish
i’m going for a ride, bye i love you, see ya later, jobs won’t hire me, but if i’m racing to the library, is it still considered chasing paper?
Incoming Call... 954-719-4093
Me: Nah, wrong number.
Telemarketer: May I ask who I'm speaking to?
Me: This is Vinnie.
Telemarketer: Hello, Vinnie. I'd like to tell you that you won a thousand-dollar giftcard just for participating in our sweepstakes. We'll send it in the mail and you can go online and buy anything up to a thousand dollars, like tools, supplies--
Me: What's your name?
Me: Hey, Howard. Firstly, you might want to talk more charismatically if you want to catch somebody's attention.
Telemarketer: 'Scuse me?
Me: Second, let's lay this crap aside, because I know behind the recycled lines, there's a guy who has character. I know you don't want to do this, but you have to for the money, to get by and pay your bills. But I don't want this kind of buyer-consumer relationship with you. I want to be your friend. What's your personal number? I wanna talk sometime.
Telemarketer: I'm sorry, I'm working now, sir.
Me: See, now if you don't want to give me your personal number so you can have friendly chats with a stranger, then why are you, a stranger, calling *my* personal number with some phony offer? How do you think I'll react to that?
Telemarketer: I'm just doing my job, sir.
Me: Alright, I'm not interested.
Telemarketer: Why not?
Me: Thanks, but don't call here again.
He’s nice to everybody because he was taught that man is made in...– Red Skelton
i was called a homo today, by a young lady whom i glanced at out of casual curiosity, which is quite redundant if you think about it. what flusters me is not the name-calling, but the fact that i live in a world with fellow homo-sapiens that are so disturbed by their own insecurities/pride, that they get a fraction of satisfaction out of disrupting the comfortable flow of other lives. ...
"What the fuck brings you here?"
“The mothership.” “I mean what’s your motive, fuckin’ wiseguy piece of diarrhea coloured fuck.” “Misery. We are a species that breeds fast. Our whole birth process takes two months. Yet, on a planet large enough to fit all 200 billion of us, we still feel so lonely. So we wander the universe for other life.” “Enough of this crybaby...