| troubleshoting, part 1 |
[21 Jul 2006|01:59am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 Blue Moon |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Mission of Burma - That's When I Reach For My Revolver |
] |
I'm beginning to think that there is a correlation between a girl's happiness and the number of times the final letter is repeated in a word. Example:
I'm sooo happyyyyyyy todayyy!
A variation on this concept is the addition of another, previously unused/unseen letter to the word. Observe:
Do you knoe that he saidd he loveees meeeeee!?
This is perhaps due to the flow of endorphines from various parts of the body to their receptors replacing the normal fluids tantamount in the operation of basic motor skills.
Of course, once the female is totally devoid of any emotion but elation, the situation becomes critical; the once decent ability to type at a fairly rapid pace is reduced to one of or both eyelids going lazy and drool replacing the faculties of speech.
I debunked it! I am so happpeeeeeeee!
|
in the desert
|
| Watersports? |
[14 Jun 2006|01:44am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
waning |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
The Smiths - Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want |
] |
I thought that would be a rather catchy title. They can't all be masterpieces relating a change in lifestyle to stuffing one's face, you know.
So, Ohio. Is this all there is, or do I need to go out more? Fuck that, there's TV and music.
I've been writing alot the past two days. Well, OK; maybe just two songs in two days, but they were written and recorded all in that time.
I'm quite dissatisfied with the fact that I don't really feel like writing anything right now. Maybe Fiction Writing burned me out.
Repressed envy has a message for the thoughtful youth: be a dream, or be a fear. Why should I modify my work when I really mean what I am saying at the time? Or do I?
Am I waning, or waxing in a new fashion? Oh, to speak with moons! To come and go whilst staying still breeds empathy in me.
|
in the desert
|
| Apple Jacks, Raisin Bran and why Puerto RIco Shouldn't Have Been in the WBC |
[29 Mar 2006|04:39pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 hot and bothered (good way) |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Foo Fighters - Hell |
] |
I'm literally eating us out of house and home. There will be no more ACME trips, so the rest of the week is about consumption. That said, as we run out of food so I have to start getting creative. Last night at 11 PM, I had the last of the bread in a peanut butter sandwich (which, mind you, caused for a hell of a dry mouth morning) so a craving for peanut butter resulted in a bloated, thirsty me holding a peanut buttery spoon on the sofa. Prior to that, I mixed the last of the Raisin Bran with the beginning of the Apple Jacks (so that I could have a full bowl). The Jacks were deliciously fresh, the Bran peculiarly stale (especially the raisins). Hell, I was just happy not to find millipedes. The move is just around the corner and I have a hell of a lot of food left. It's gonna be weird being full and empty at the same time.
Puerto Rico was annexed to the United States officially with the formation of their constitution in 1952, which declared it a Commonwealth of the United States of America. Now, I know there are those of you saying "but wait! A commonwealth and a state are two different things!"
Well, to those people who say said above thing, I offer you this... can you think of any other Commonwealths that the United States have under their governance?
Can't think of any? Well how about Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, Virginia and Kentucky? All Commonwealths under their respective constitutions and as labeled on state seals, documents, etc. This being said, I call for the World Baseball Classic to be started over, Japan give the trophy back and we start over with Puerto Rico's team deferred to the U.S.A. team. Let's be fair, world. Let's be fair.
Maybe then PR will see the benefits of being a full fledged state. Si, baby.
|
1 starve
|
in the desert
|
| Decisions, Popular Music, Arabian Princesses |
[23 Mar 2006|12:45am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
unwritten |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Natasha Bedingfield - Unwritten |
] |
I'm obsessed with What Goes On, the Beatles anomalies page. Who would think that a series of barely audible clicks and ramblings underneath Beatles recordings would be so fascinating...but I must confess I am a victim of their gravitation.
So, I thought about getting rid of this thing (the journal). Then I thought some more. It's a place to write, read what others think and probably the most unique window I have into certain people. So, I've decided to keep it. I'm a little mad now that I didn't update a little bit more, but I'm happier for having decided to keep it.
How's about a proem for old tim(e)'s sake:
Arabian princesses dance along the miles of sand
laid out into a drag strip that leads to deprecation and faulty fanbases.
You should always be ready to serve the ones who are dependent on you
otherwise they are doomed
Arabian princess, say "no" just once
and teach that foolish heart his place
so that he must return his Bactrian chariot for good.
P.S. - I'm not gay for liking this song.
P.P.S. - A tie in baseball? What is that?! Seriously...by the way, they won't stop playing Howard's homer on ESPN. 'twas truly a bomb for the ages.
|
1 starve
|
in the desert
|
| Moon and Rascal |
[02 Feb 2006|07:48pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 quasiloquacious |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Better Than Ezra - Long Lost |
] |
The moon had been shy all night long, and the vast Ohio farmland dipped in and out of blackness. Two hills stood symmetrically next to each other, the left occupied by a modest sized barn and house, the other bald save for a few sprouts of sage on the summit. A small paved road split the two knolls and went on forever in either direction. A Cadillac Fleetwood slithered eastward on the black vein, some twenty miles away from the West Virginia border.
Within the car, two men observed the dots of mist collaborating to form a stained-glass windshield.
“Are you gonna wipe that shit?” The passenger asked, gazing at the glass.
“What does it matter?” the driver snapped back, “I can see fine. I think sometimes your mind needs the wipers.”
Moon and Rascal had been on the road for the past two hours, and were becoming restless with hunger and boredom. Though they had agreed on driving in shifts, Moon had yet to sit behind the wheel the whole week. Flipping his greasy pocket comb in his fingers, Moon figured now was as good as any time to stop for a bite, a piss and shift change.
“There’s a gas station up ahead, I gotta take a leak.”
Rascal ignored the man next to him and peered through bloodshot eyes at the rear view mirror, then motioned backward with his head.
“We ain’t got time to stop, Moon. If we wanna make that job in Philly we have to really burn. Besides, the less stoppin’ we do between here and there the better.”
So, in complete silence, the dull neon Shell sign came and went.
***
Back in Columbus, Eddie Gizzardo was startled to consciousness by the muffled sound of cars outside his closed window. That god-damned highway. He never opposed the building of an interstate right outside his apartment, but that’s because he never knew it was happening—Eddie decided a long time ago that the city should do whatever it wants to itself, a decision he now disagreed with. He slid out of bed, walked across the room, and opened it with a grunt. The December air whipped across his face and brought with it a smell like those little dried pools of milk that he was constantly wiping up, compliments of his two room mates. Surprised by the odor, Eddie looked to the right—across the Scioto River—for a source: maybe a factory or a downwind late-night garbage dump.
“Fuck, why the hell did I wake up if nothing interesting’s gonna happen?”
With the completion of this thought, Eddie grabbed the window to pull it down but was stopped by a gurgling sound directly. He propped his belly on the windowsill and poked out the window to find a saturated kitten on the fire escape. He reacted with his customary “shit” (Eddie was known to utter such graceful expressions at inopportune moments; his first marriage, where most commence with an “I do,” began with an inspired “fuck yeah”). Eddie slid back into the room, hitting his head on the window. Bumbling back over to his bed, he picked up a pair of crumpled jeans from the floor. He thrust himself back out the window and picked up the small creature, wondering why the cat was so wet. He set the denim wrap on his bed and strode over to the light switch. Upon flicking it, he saw a thick crimson smear on the panel. The putrid smell had been blood.
***
Moon saw a sign that read “PHILADELPHIA 28” and looked over at Rascal, who was still stone-faced.
“Almost there, huh Rasc?” he said, eager for some sort of response.
“Yeah,” Rascal mumbled back, “almost.”
A disheartened Moon went back to the side window to play the game that had kept him busy for the past four hours. He would try to keep his eyes straight, but they would always catch an object and follow it.
House.
Tree, tree.
Tree, sign, mile-marker, sprinklers.
Tree.
It took Moon quite some time to realize that the only way he was able to keep his eyes straight was to either look at a speck on the window, (which was cheating, since it was still technically following something), or to just completely numb his mind. He found the first way to be easiest, but thought that Rascal would probably be good at playing the game the right way.
Tree, tree, tree.
Mile-marker.
Moon sat back and thought about their trip. It was like watching a giant clock with the close trees whizzing by as the second hands, the distant objects plodding away minutes and hours. He didn’t always think about things like this, but it was easy when the radio was busted and a scarecrow sat in the driver’s seat. Moon wondered how someone could get anything with as few words as Rascal said. Another sign, “PHILADELPHIA 15.” Home free. Moon’s train of thought kept rolling along, and he flitted from idea to idea in silence.
***
Once Eddie was able to clean off the cat in the kitchen, he noticed two deep wounds in its throat, like the talons of a huge bird had swept across it. He grabbed a paper plate from the cabinet and set it on the counter, along with the kitten. He opened the fridge and grabbed the milk carton, only to find it contained about a drop’s worth of milk. Pushing past a bottle of coke and something wrapped in tinfoil, he found an unopened can of tuna. Eddie took out his blade and poked a hole in the top. He assumed the cat was too weak to actually eat, so he figured the juice would have to do. He rummaged under the sink until he found a couple of square inches of clear wrap and covered the plate, so as not to soak through.
“Sorry brother, but this is the best I can do.”
He poured the fish juice on the plate and nudged it over to the animal, which after a few seconds of staring, began to lap it up.
With the creature taken care of, Eddie now set about trying to find out why there was a mangled cat on their fire escape. He stomped into the hallway, grabbed the knob of the door next to his room, and flung it open.
“Guys? Why was there a cat outside?”
No answer came from the darkness, which Eddie’s eyes hadn’t readjusted to yet. He wrapped his arm around the door frame and slapped at the wall for a switch.
“Wake up, man! Do you know—“
The light revealed two strange things: First, the room was clean. Second, neither room mate was in his bed. Moon and Rascal were gone, and probably not coming back.
When a man like Rascal says a word, it’s a rarity. If someone can manage to get an entire sentence out of him, it’s an achievement. Because of this fact, when one hears words like “oh shit,” they carry much more meaning behind them. This is exactly the pairing of words that startled Moon out of his daze, as he snapped his head over to Rascal. His heart sank and his testicles rose when he saw blue and red lights alternating on the back of Rascals head. He probably would have seen them in the side view mirror, but it had been clipped off in a parallel parking debacle three days prior. With a chalky feeling sloshing in his stomach, Moon’s eyes flickered between the lights and Rascals face and squeezed out a sentence:
“What the hell are we gonna do?”
Rascal leaned forward and pulled something out from under the seat.
“Just don’t say a word, Moon.”
With that sentence, the cop flashed his high beams at the Caddy. Rascal calmly pulled the vehicle over and squeezed the steel hidden under his jacket, which was already sweaty. Moon became incredibly tense as the sirens neared, and held his breath. Two crimes in one night take an awful toll on one man. Without slowing down, the cherry top blared past and both men exhaled. Oddly enough, Rascal was the only one able to express the sentiment.
“Jesus…Jesus Christ.”
***
|
1 starve
|
in the desert
|
| I apologize to no man... |
[22 Jan 2006|03:04am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 hiding behind a newspaper |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Tears for Fears - Everybody Wants to Rule the World |
] |
...or woman, for that matter.
| You Passed the US Citizenship Test | 
Congratulations - you got 8 out of 10 correct! |
|
1 starve
|
in the desert
|
| Mr. Heavyfoot |
[08 Jan 2006|03:12am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 M. Piedlourde |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Pixies - Wave of Mutilation |
] |
One of the most depressiong things ever: when young people get married.
Kudos to anyone who has premar.
On another note, I had a good time tonight. It's the last night before school begins again. Fuckin' way too soon if you ask me. What's that? You didn't ask me? That's okay...I won't forget to leave you out of my will, fucktart.
It looks like Gannon actually pencilled in ROCK for Tuesday. Excellent.
Love,
The River Tiber (the closest thing to my name I can think of. no, don't correct me.)
|
in the desert
|
| Just one of the things I love... |
[08 Jan 2006|02:57am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
nihilus |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Alice in Chains - Grind |
] |
how Bailey stares at me at times like this... like, "what the hell is so important about that square that he's staring at?" If only he would ingest the information...
Psyched for 'Chains,
Timmy Tim Tim
|
in the desert
|
| Fortunately/unfortunately |
[02 Jan 2006|01:22pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
idling in a long driveway |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Mike Doughty - White Lexus |
] |
You would think with my voice completely gone, that this medium would be a rant fest--a place to supplement the silence of my big food trap. Fortunately/unfortunately, the Sudafed-doused delirium and throwing-star-swallowing-like pain juat won't allow for opinions to exit the skull right now. Maybe it's another antibody function: to keep stupid idiotic thoughts from permeating the skull, to prevent further damage to the body by other people's fists.
Well, hi. Looks like the year is finally here when an era must come to an end.
Also, in case anyone got a call from me the other night out of nowhere, that's why I don't delete numbers from my phone. Unless of course, I lost it...which I definitely unfortunately did in one case. If you're reading this, I'm sorry, and Happy New Year. Bye!
P.S. - I needed a 1 P.M. wakeup so badly. In fact, maybe it was all I needed in the first place.
It's been squatting in my head for about three weeks now, and I can't get White Lexus by Mike Doughty out. The antibodies must be confusing it for a stupid thought.
|
in the desert
|
| C'est très bien, Tim! |
[14 Dec 2005|09:27pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
passionément à la folie |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
The Vaselines - Jesus Doesn't Want Me for a Sunbeam |
] |
I found a few good rants in Myspace that I wrote almost 2 years ago. TWO YEARS! 730 days! Actually 731 because 2004 was a leap year and it was before February! Anycrap, in lieu of writing something original, I thought I'd put them here in a last-ditch effort to gather everything before the move. 'Cause who knows what will become of my thoughts then...
Myspace: Friday January 30 2004
edgar allan snow
i went sledding tonight. it was fuckin awesome. it's the best snow for sledding. probably the second best snow time ever.
i'm trying to write more, i really am.
Myspace: Sunday February 01 2004
serf music
i am tired and hungry. and you know what? i'm going to do something about it. i don't know where or when, but i am confident that at one time there will be a non-hungry and tired me. i hate when it's busy at work because then i can't get out of work mode.
on top of that, the filter machine broke tonight so i was there for an extra hour. fuck me.
yes! i just saw the same commercial two times in a row for the first time since something like 1997. i thought they fixed problems like those. randomizer must be on the fritz. i love when people fuck up inn subtel wayes. ok, i have no idea how they do commercials. all i know is, when i see the same commercial twice it means A) someone fucked up or B) some company paid alot of money for a solid minute of advertising.
enough about nothing. off to the semiconscious.
Myspace: Monday February 09 2004
Miss Hathaway, can I get one of these electric whittlers for Uncle Jed?
I just had some delicious sherbet...a few hours ago. I'd have more, but there's none left. I have nothing important to say. Not by your human standards, anyway. I have to be going now. There's a space war and my awesome race of incredibles needs me to defeat the Zregnons. Tagalong if you wish.
-- Zontar the Munificent
Myspace: Saturday February 14 2004 (Valentine's Day!)
she slit my hugular vein and i couldnt resist...so we hugged.
i am so tired that nothin i say makes any sense. in fact that was the most coherent sentence ive produced in the past hour, two in a row including this one. retread the steps of the mighty and fallen, and you too will end up like them. fallen, but mighty. and you know that's not bad. where the bartenders had. served lucifer's stew. to the captain and crew. of the undersea hours club exploring the depths of the ocean in secret from the government of shangri-la. you are it. please understand this.
Myspace: Sunday February 15 2004
ants in the rants
you know what fucking just pissed me off? well first off, i hate it when people use their trashcans, chairs, second-born children, or what have you to save their parking space on the street when it snows. what makes it even worse and is a total abuse of a shitty system is that my neighbors are using the system right now. i saw two recycle cans blocking a parking spot near my house, and the only remnants of snow are a few icy bumps on front lawns of houses that are blocking the sun. that is atrocious, especially considering it is after 3 AM. if you are not home, then the space is up for grabs. i've parked on another street before. fuck this, im going to go destroy the cans. i'll be back.
that was awesome. the woman came out and yelled at me. how sad is it that she's ever vigilant when it comes to her parking lot, yet im sure her chimney is consuming enough oxygen for an infant to breathe for a week. fuck you, bitch. i hate people. in general, anyway.
Myspace: Thursday March 04 2004
P.S. I Love You by the Beatles always makes me feel weird. It's the first song they wrote ( i think ) and it's just so fucking good and creepy everytime i listen to it. i dont know why. it's like when you're watching a movie and you can pinpoint the EXACT moment the climax begins. this song is like that, frozen forever--or at least until the cd melts or there's a worldwide holocaust.
So, enough of that. Just another way of justifying my existance. I got an A in French, which is a four-credit course. Because numbers mean the world.
|
in the desert
|
| i'm looking for a family with a bearded, irascible dad with a heart of gold,... |
[12 Dec 2005|05:26pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 Lego tim(e) |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
ELO - It's a Living Thing |
] |
Has anyone else noticed the End Times fast approaching? There's already a Babel-fest in the East, and Mother Nature has turned into a giant dominatrix complete with Hurricane-gloves, wind whip and earthquake boots. I'm not a rumor spreader by any means, but word on the street is she is in possession of the Bombos, Ether and Quake medallions*.
Ripoff, Inc.
Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)
I walked into the Buddha's secrets and saw the bodhi
it grew higher and wider than Northern California's children
The Misfit climbed to the top and shouted his lament
and all the mountains opened to suck in the sky
he shouted
Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)
and hourglass of blues is tilting to the side
so while you walk the line, keep your inches wide
and miximize your
intent...to...
Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)
Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)
I'll let you know when I graduate second grade, all you fathers
New Idea: WNA - Night in Shining Darkness
____________________________________________________________________________________________________
* Play about 68% of A Link to the Past
|
in the desert
|
| such a simpler time |
[07 Dec 2005|02:02pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 annoyed |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Robyn - Do You Know What it Takes |
] |
Too hot to handle, too cold to hold
They're called the Ghostbusters and they're in control
Had 'em throwin' a party for a bunch of children
While all the while the slime was under the building
So they packed up their group, got a grip, came equipped
Grabbed they proton packs off their back and they split
Found about Vigo, the master of evil
Try to battle my boys? That's not legal
Doesn't it look like Bobby Brown just watched the movie on fastforward? He treated the song like I treat a paper. I skim a few pages and get the whole thing out of context. Just shows though, that you can still come out with a masterpiece that way.
In other news, only a few days of school left and I have a pretty intense exam schedule. Now I have to talk to Elaine and get off of work. Fuck, I really never wanted to mention that bitch in my journal. She's not worthy. Oh well, even the pauper gets his chance at fame. (laughs to self at obscure reference, realizes fate, studies, laughs again about lying about studying in the word before this clause).
P.S. - Oh yeah, and Elena, I have all the songs from both Ghostbusters now. Funsome.
|
in the desert
|
| please be pre-pubescent |
[03 Dec 2005|09:20am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
blank |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Meat Puppets - I'm a Mindless Idiot |
] |
Today is Von Bobby Osh day, or as I just came up with, the Minivan Trapps. This should be fun and filled with food...and fun.
P.S. ...and food.
|
in the desert
|
| TAYUAUNOTLuSPerSupsI3D |
[17 Nov 2005|04:42pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
Lucid, Perpetually Supp'ring |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Ash - Jack Names the Planets |
] |
Hello, me! Here's another quasi-weekly update of Tim Daily! This week's entry: The Amazing (Yet Uncomfortable) and Unfathomable Neighborhood of the (Lucid) Slovenly Perpetual Supperers in 3-D
MP3s
First things first, I have this version of Robert Plant's Shine it All Around on my computer, and it ends with what I assume to be some French radio disc jockey. It's here that I notice that our DJ's are totally fuckin' American. At the end of said song--which I believe to have been brand new at the time of transference from radio to computer--in a perfectly respectable and informative voice is a Frenchman speaking quickly and sans emotion. When I think of American radio, on the other hand, I think of that cackling hippie like Pierre Robert(note the irony of his name) sawing open my cerebellum on a crisp autumn morning, when I want nothing more than to be lulled into a day of full consciousness with the gentle arms of music! I don't need the crazy-father-weilding-a-chainsaw-and-bursting-into-the-room-at-4-AM effect of an over-caffienated, burned out, middle aged "citizen"'s voice. But I digress. The point I'm trying to make is that the little snippets at the end of a sloppily-transferred MP3 can be quite satisfying. Like at the end of U2's Beautiful Day; on the radio or CD, fade out. On my mp3? Heavens no! I have some sort of weird split-second '80s synth drum burst followed by a fragment of a guitar note straight out of some lame Nickelodeon game show from 1990. At the end of an acoustic version of Toad the Wet Sprocket's Comedown is some woman who, if the band had one giant collective dick, would have licked her was to the chocolate center of it by the end of the song. She adds an extra 8 seconds to a great song and caps it off perfectly with a hilarious faux interest, like a quivering laser-sight is trained on her forehead. My point is, through all of this much too long section, is that I wouldn't change these songs for the world. The little mistakes and bloops are the digital equivalent of the aging Pink Floyd stoner's love affair with the way the laughter skips in the middle of Brain Damage on his original vinyl copy. I don't think I could deal with CD's anymore, unless I make them myself. What an age.
Pigeons
Today I noticed something; not unlike the moment a 55 year old mother walks in on her jobless overweight thirtysomething of a son masturbating to I Love Lucy and sees its time for change in not only his pathetic life, but her own as well.
I try to avoid the pigeons on my route, I really do. They walk in the street like yearlings around a cool stream (only without the grace), scavenging for food. I look at the concrete-colored eggs with legs and see their disgusting beetle-sheen of green, purple and blue--no longer borne of nature, but of their bathing in gasoline slicks. These fat, overfed "birds" keep their superfluous wings tucked at their sides and wobble like that last bowling pin in your possible 300 game that's on the line. I drive slowly and around them, not anymore worrying about killing them, but so that underdeveloped, coal-black beak doesn't puncture my tire. I can't help but look at these creatures too lazy to move out of the way of traffic for the sake of food and laziness and see America--nay, humanity. Look; I'm a big guy, but I'm no pigeon. When a car's coming, I move out of the way. Physically and metaphorically speaking. I see people walking around this city, and when the slightest thing disrupts that beeline to food, or the train, or the TV, they flap their little stubs and let the feather fly. The overfeddus glutonii species is too closely related to humans nowadays to not be the missing link. I don't want to be a pigeon.
Fences
Today I saw a pretty funny thing. There was this house on Megargee St. With a pretty high fence. Now, I'm not talking chain-link alone, but this thing was jet black, pointy and menacing. On the end closest to me was one of those oh so subtle "Littering Fine" signs placed there to scare people (and their dogs, I assume) from shitting on their lawn. Then, as my eyes scanned along the fence whilst I walked, I came to a cheery flag stuck in the barren mudslide of a front lawn. It said, in a plain and fancy script surrounded by floral pastel coloring, "WELCOME". If that's not confusing, I don't know what is.
The Headless Fan
Further down on my walk today, I saw a scarecrow in a chair wearing a white T-shirt with "EAGLES" painted on it in black ink. Good move, since I alone with the rest of degenerate society would probably have stolen any merchandise with any value on that thing. Anyway, the head was missing and the snapped off end of a broom stick was the only thing protruding from the shoulders. Fuckin hilarious.
Safety Word
There needs to be a word, sound, or visual that all creatures understand and interpret as "NO". This symbol would immediately strike fear in the groin of any creature (in the universe; if it was limited to just earth, then the aliens would have a pretty awesome weapon against us). This would solve a hell of alot of problems and be alot nicer than "anyone caught trespassing will be shot" or "fuck you homo, you don't get no Chee-tos." We could make a sticker with the symbol and put it on our properties, then have secret entrances so we can get in without seeing the symbol. I guess, of course, then you'd have people inventing contact lenses that could filter it out or something and these people would be invincible until a new thing was conceived. So, bad idea.
That's all I got in meself for now. Later, beautiful.
|
in the desert
|
| makes you think |
[16 Nov 2005|04:36pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
amazed |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Better Than Ezra - Desperately Wanting |
] |
PRISMATIC
AN EPIC TALE
continued
Johnny took a
loaded pistol from the back left corner of the top dresser drawer and
took out the cartridge. No bullets. Clenching the sock-warmed steel
reminded him of dressing up as James Bond for Halloween in '90. What a
different kind of assassin Bond would make in comparison to Holme!
Johnny Holme, that is. With a deep exhale he sandwiched the pistol
between his groin and belt, then pulled his I Can't Believe it's Not Human! Shirt over it. Another great show from his past.
* * *
President Czarnowy held Jar-Din in his fatty-yet-muscular arms.
"You know, your safety--and secrecy--is my one priority right now."
She kissed him gingerly on the cheek and clicked off the bedside radio,
then rolled over to face the ceiling. She thought about the night
before, about Ed, about the invasion, and about the piles of human
brain surrounding their bed. She rolled over and grabbed one of the
piles of grey matter. The President looked at her and smiled uneasily.
"So much violence for no reason."
Jar-Din, above the soft, squishy din, whispered softly:
"Makes you think..."
...and greedily stuffed the slime into her mouth.
* * *
The two sat in John's '03 Taurus, moving at a
reasonably good clip. Brenda was excited to see this "surprise" Johnny
was dragging her out beyond -- Wilmington?! -- for. The car ride was so
aggressively quiet that once Brenda had the nerve to touch the radio
ON/VOLUME button/knob, they were there. Where there was, exactly, is a
matter for another--more punctual--update. 'Til then, cock grapplers!
|
in the desert
|
| hi there! |
[16 Nov 2005|03:47pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
covered in paint |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
The Rentals - Friends of P. (not on the list, cheaters) |
] |
Here's another pretty good idea I stole from Elena. It would be alot easier if we were to just pick songs, but this makes it fun for the creator too. I tried to include enough to make them guessable. When you guess the song I'll underline it and put your name there so you can get your precious credit, tools.
1. "We skipped the life fandango"
2. "Riders on the storm...riders on the storm...into this house we're born, into this world we're thrown" *SOMEONE GOT THIS ONE WRONG! WORTH DOUBLE THE POINTS NOW!
3. "I just don't know what to do with myself..."
4. "Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?"
5. "Well I took a little ride through the pouring rain to think about the casualties of your exchange"
6. "There is a house in New Orleans they call the Rising Sun" Lenny and Adrienne - The Animals
7. "I live cement, I hate this street; give dirt to me; i bite lament"
8. "Have you ever been close to tragedy or close to folks who have"
9. "I dedicate this record, The Carnival, to all you brothers takin' long trips down south--Virginia, Baltimore, all around the world and your girl gets this message that you ain't comin' back. She's sittin back in her room, the lights is off, she's cryin'. Then my voice comes in--POW--in the middle of the night and this is what I told her for you"
10. "I met a gin-soaked barroom queen in Memphis"
11. "I wrote my mother, I wrote my father, and now I'm writing you too."
12. "Don't, don't, don't let's start--this is the worst part"
13. "Called you so many times today and I guess it's all true what your girlfriends say" Lenny - The Police
14. "I've got to say there's somethin' on my mind 'bout the way you've been for a long long time" Lenny - Los Lonely Boys
15. "Oooooh yeah ah Ziggy played guitar jamming good with Weird and Gilly"
16. "You were working as a waitress in a cocktail bar"
17. "Aruba Jamaica ooh I wanna take ya" Lenny - The Beach Boys
18. "If you could only see the way she loves me then maybe you would understand" Lenny - Tonic
19. "I was bruised and battered, I couldn't tell what I felt, I was unrecognizable to myself"
20. "Oh I come from a land, from a far away place where the caravan camels roam" Lenny - The Guy From the Beginning of Aladdin
|
2 starve
|
in the desert
|
| take me break me make me fall |
[05 Nov 2005|12:06pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
passing pseudogenaity |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Queen - Don't Stop Me Now |
] |
PRISMATIC - continued
THE FLASHFRONT
August 2, 2007
(awesome solo fades in)
"Ladies and gentlemen--gentleman. There comes a time in the course of human history when we must realize the options laid before us. There are aliens. In fact, some 30,000 of their vessels are entering our atmosphere as we speak. Whether or not their intent is to destroy the fabric of our existence is not yet known, for they have not established any sort of communication, nor made any attempt to do so. This in mind, we must not hesitate to protect what we can only assume is our way of life--life itself--which is in danger. Now we can stand here and wonder why they are doing this, or we can fuck 'em out of the sky! So, what do you say, troops!?"
Ed stood up and gave a long whistle as he looked around at the thousands of surviving women who had volunteered for the 14th--and final--division of the United States Combined Military Forces.
"Can I please go home now? I mean, I'm the only fucking guy here."
The Women, with their unwashed hair in knots and makeshift hybrid weaponry in their slender (chocolate) milky hands, looked at President Czarnowy like bitches being called to dinner. With a heavy sigh of one thousand bad days, the President flicked his hand outward to the women and stepped down from the podium. The 3,476 women then proceeded to beat Ed to death with utmost prejudice.
|
1 starve
|
in the desert
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
downboundtrain's journal
