my hands burn, both of them. im not entirely sure why but i think it has something to do with that saw and that poor tree and the fact that ive washed them four times since then and shaken one of them profusely. oh well, shaking hands happens. its enjoyable actually. knock all the bones out of socket, maybe it will keep you from your life for a while. who knows, you just may get lucky. all good things must go eventually. its why im writing tonight anyway. i like last weeks post but hell, i need to keep going. musnt dwell on the past. i wish people understood that. you cant dwell on the past. one of the truest phrases ive heard was from ben folds. "let me tell yall what its like being male, middle class, and white. its a bitch if you dont believe..." historically innacurate but really quite true for the present tense. seems white dudes like me have all the priveleges doesnt it? we white guys rule the world dont we? im sure george bush and bill gates would agree. the problem is, people resent that. just because women, minorities, minor women etc. have been opressed for millenia by us white guys, does that mean we still do? yes we have been kings. it can be argued that jesus was in fact a skinny white guy much like myself (although if you really think about it he was probably middle eastern and not much like the paintings youve seen). ok so we took yall africans as slaves. "wasnt my idea." ok so we denied women franchisement till this past century. "never was my idea." if i dont mind saying, quit yer bitchin. everyone can vote, nobody can be denied a job or be forced to sit on a different toilet seat anymore. im pretty sure we cleared that up with the civil rights act of 1964. yeah and title IX. this isnt a history lesson though. the truth is that most people cant get over the fact that white guys have been yalls boss since the beginning of time. look at yourselves, things arent like that anymore. where is all this resentment coming from? what to i owe you, maam, or you, brother? should i move out of my middle class neighborhood and into your hood for a while? im pretty sure i didnt do anything to deserve that. if you are a woman and you get fired and they hire a man in your place then guess what? its the fucking twenty-first century honey, find a lawyer and sue that son-of-a-bitch for all hes got. somebody makes off-color comments in your office, sexual harrassment. lets make lawsuits not excuses. i may sound incredibly insensitive but i never have nor have had the want to have a slave. so dont complain to me that you cant get into college because hey, youve got this little ditty called affirmative action on your side. you know, its what gives you an edge over me when it comes to getting into college. if that isnt a life-changing event then tell me what is. no, just because im smarter doesnt mean i deserve any more opportunities than you. i apologize for your great-great-great-great grandfather's field labor. my bust homie. if you have problems with this, please, take it up with god. id love to hear what he says about it. excuse me, he-or-she. im afraid that is yet to be cleared up. our omnipotent bisexual multiracial "higher being" must have some opinion. please tell me he didnt set us white dudes up to be resented for centuries. these days we have no more to gain than anybody else. im fucking tired of being the butt of resentment for my redneck past. haha. no im not racist. no im not sexist. but hey, if you havent caught on, being male, middle class, and white is not that easy. hot damn and a democrat at that. its a bitch if you dont believe...

yes all that and god. what is this problem with the phrase "under god" in our pledge of allegiance? under God, excuse me. i wont really worry about that for now though. now here i understand that our fair nation is not all diestic. it is certainly clear that not everyone here believes in god. but i do. should i be offended if it were to be taken out of that great pledge? maybe. but should you be offended for being cruelly forced to say those two evil words when you yourself are struggling to find security in religion? god forbid we push you in one direction or another. it is not the united states of america's business to nudge you in your religious life. perhaps you feel violated by our clearly partisan pledge. file a lawsuit, its the cool thing to do. get some judge on the courts to decide whether the founding fathers (those immortals) had it in their plan to worship god. maybe they did, maybe they didnt. yes, were the founding fathers religious? because we should all look up to them. their opinions matter. our nation is in permanent debt to thier opinions. they are on mountains and money and shit. and money is important. its what gets you out of ghettos that the white man put you in. the fucking bastards enslaved your people! forty acres and a mule! forty acres and a mule!!

dreams are weird... and odd... and strange... and disturbing. and i love bad dreams. they make life so much sweeter. like r.k. once said. death is important because without it life would go on indefinitely. without death, our psyches would crumble. death gives every second of our life meaning. so do bad dreams, i think. or at least memorable ones. i wish i remembered more of my dreams. that would be nice. im not out to hurt yall, you know that. but im not going to apologize for anything ive said tonight either. nobody can deny that there is resentment towards skinny white guys like myself. people that have problems with 'under god' annoy the shit out of me. get a life. abortion and the death penalty annoy me too. but i wont go into that now. the only thing that matters right now is that im getting bored and i am really not being entertaining... which i really should be. although i shouldnt be as well. and theres a light in the next room over and my dad is watching television. and i put the odd earphones on tonight. they are hard to put in my ears but they sound a hell of a lot better than the other cheap ones. i hope those dont hate me for it cause then they might break. i keep writing things and erasing them because nothing is quite what i want to say. you would have had to read all this to get to the real points i am trying to make. im not even sure what they are anymore. this is the breakdown yall. the fun part. im almost sure someone will come up to me in school tomorrow. some girl... some republican getting on my case for writing all this shit. yeah well... republicans happen. and girls too... but mainly, ah fuck forget it. i am going to be pissed if i dont get into a good school because of affirmative action. you better believe it.

but i have way too much shit to do right now to worry about that. much too much shit. and people to talk to. and things to do. and not fall apart because that is sounding really appealing. what if i were to have some kind of breakdown. and i would have to be in the hospital of course and i could skip all these inductions and review sessions and tests and school and everything and it would be wonderful because i could fly on a cloud with my leg in a cast and watch the entire world pass below me and a robot of me does all my daily functions. i think dailing should be a word because i just wrote it a second ago by accident. i would write dailing in the dictionary and come up with a meaning for it. it should be close to daily but different, very much different. if i could float above the pool on a cloud im pretty sure more people wouldnt drown. like anyone does anyway... but what if. that proposition freaks me out. i have daydreams about saving people and being on the nightly news. except then people would resent the famous cool white guy. i cant win. unless i won the lottery twice... i heard a guy did that once. lucky guy. i bet he was white hahah. im feeling sinister. its such a nice word, agreed? la la la la la la la.

i think its time to sleep, no. time to give up, maybe. maybe its just tool time. hey, its always a possibility. saddam is on the television again getting his teeth examined. whats up with that guy anyway. beards were so 1990's. mmmm. i really shouldnt have to take this. all my other options are crumbling though. logic says one thing and my mind says another (though they are usually on the same page) and my heart says something that i believe is from "when harry met sally"... although ive never seen it, really. i cant really get close to people because things wont work. maybe im cursed. maybe in my past life i was the tree they hung jesus on. that has got to be bad karma. see, anyone i think i could be close to either has a boyfriend or doesnt. one of the two. or maybe i dont know. but ill never ask. and if there is an opportunity, i will find a way for it not to work because my feelings are fickle. or fuckle. cause fuckle is cool like that. maybe i dont like that kind of dancing. maybe i have no other option. maybe im not sex-driven for once. when i see a girl the first thing that pops into my head may be that she has a pretty face... i dont think of banging a piece of that fine ass. i dont talk to the guys about it. its just not me. so pretending i am having sex on the danceroom floor surrounded by other people doing the same thing isnt my idea of a good time. i came for prom because its what you do, not because its an orgy. get over it people. i should have been alive in the fifties. or the sixties cause im pretty sure i would love those drugs back when they werent so dirty. my opinions about people change in these situations. its lethal because i cant really talk about it like i usually would. my heart is on my sleeve for most people, for the most part... kindof. there are a few of you anyway. and the one person i actually mean by that, you arent the case at the moment, hun. and the other one i could mean, we need to talk... and meet in person.

if you have read all this then well... you have far too much free time. other people with far too much free time invent things or save people or something... productive. you are a lazy bum. probably fat too. get up and buy some weight loss pills fatty. haha. i love being skinny. please dont hurt me. sigh...

apologies for the last tangent. if anything, this will clear my senses because after writing this much i dont really feel the need to write for another week. haha, good for me, maybe not i dont know. if you enjoy this kind of stuff then i guess you are out of luck cause im going to hate to cover this one up. i think all the juice is down here at the bottom. all that shit about white guys and god was just crap clotting up my brain for a while. so disregard it all. i am discreditable at best. maybe i will just write for another thirteen minutes because its healthy like that. ive got time. maybe just till i listen to the rest of this album. whichever comes first. i burnt the album from songs i stole off the internet. i dont think i pirated them because i dont give them to anyone. selfish like that, thats me. we are such boring people. like an old couple already. its funny tonight, suicidal others. dont question me. if you are an artist, i salute you and apologize for stealing your music but hey man, its all for me ok? i enjoy things myself. maybe someday i will be an artist and make money and donate some to you. maybe. if i still like you. of course, anything can happen by then right. and im just another slightly talented self-taught guitarist that can play stuff other people write. dime a dozen you say? i agree. its nice to have company. maybe i should listen to someone i havent listened to in a while. neh. nah. neh. whatever.

hahahahalalaalalalalla. its so lovely tonight. im writing as a bandit because its the way i feel. its an affair. youll all see someday. head boppin and i dont care. since you went away everything is looking great. i shouldnt plaigerize but hell, i dont care. if the artist cares, he would have to read down to here and sue me. so sue me motherfucker. haha. theres nothing, theres nothing, theres nothing. i have no idea what to write anymore but i must. i must i must i must. because i have three fucking songs left. saying three reminds me of that kramit the frog and big bird comdedy sketch about sesameo street. thats some funny shit man, you should listen to it. really you should. my fingers keep tapping tap tapping and i direct them from my brain which is upstairs. it is the man upstairs so you say. it is a man because i am a man. and i am because it is because if it was not then i would be was and we really wouldnt have anything to worry about in the first place wouldnt we. you see its all simple like that. like faulkner would say, "my mother is a fish." right on faulkner. now to go take your pills hun. i just called faulkner hun hahaha. oh yeah, hes dead. maybe i should go drill holes in his face. talk about poetic justice. he deserves that. he probably doesnt have a face anymore. like that guy in hiroshima. i would sure hate to be him. this just keeps on going and going and going its the energizer post. i have a good mind to delete it all right now but instead i will save it because thats what needs be done. there is something like thirty odd viruses on this computer and i would hate for one to but its ugly little worm head in at this moment because i would lose all this lovely writing, these pretty words. i write pretty words dont i? i dont want to lose this all so... save. there. cool beans. cool beans are nasty. narsty. and nasty. i need to start a new paragraph. angela likes paragraphs.

there was a bood, a bird, lost in class yesterday. that was one wicked awesome pretty burd. bird. birds often learn to say 'pretty bird' as a trick but they usually arent very pretty birds. this one was in reality a pretty burd. bird. but i doubt it actually spoke. tragedy. oh what to do, what to do to do. its no joke, your face is bleeding. haha look at you with your bloody face. i sound british. bloody british hahaha. fucking brits. oh. this has been all nonsense for a long while now. and im two minutes overtime already. jesus christ hope i dont get busted. ive been writing probably for an hour straight but thats impossible because i should have so much more written if that were the case. driving music helps though, helps distract i mean. all i ever meant to say was hey, white guys have it bad. yeah, right on. musics done. power down.

tragically, i must be leaving. it was nice having a good old one sided conversation with you all tonight. you are a lovely audience. maybe i will do it again sometime. i love you all. goodnight.

i really dont give a damn. i find it impossibly hard to read other people's crap these days so please be kind and dont patronize. i dont even like what i write so if you dont then dont waste your fucking time. this is another post about my night, my disturbing thoughts, and shit... you may even learn something. boredom is a cause for writing. it seems i always want to play guitar when i dont have one or write when im not in a position to but when the moment presents itself, its never quite as exhilirating as id imagined it to be. so tonight i was bored, id played guitar for a while at the fire, read about joining a nudist colony, and tried to watch a rerun of snl. id talked to people i dont usually talk to, turned down referrals for further conversations and even done some random weight training. going to sleep isnt good enough for tonight. i thought i might waste time or trick myself into sleeping by listening to some music. the horrible part is that there was no good music to listen to. nothing was good at all. i wanted something pretty, you know, some instrumental stuff with layers to it that i could feel and go crazy about like i did a while ago but none of that was right. so i picked out one that was just wrong, just another foreign guy with a sweet name and a hard group to back him up... and it was perfect. turning it up loud sortof creates the band in your head, makes the sound reverb from your brain and an entirely cool effect. and the songs... the songs were what i needed. the slow stuff, the dramatic ones. half the fucking cd is stuff i didnt want to listen to but tonight i was blessed with a random that kept to what i needed. i thank god for that. it got me thinking though, which is what i wanted to do anyway. it started out nasty, all the stuff i didnt want to see. thoughts that you think and then try not to think but in the very act of denying yourself that particular thought you cant but think of it. its sick. but i got past that. so im thinking of how i cant hear anything at all except this music. im not even really hearing it, im feeling it. if a burglar walked in im pretty sure i would have known though. i can feel anything when im feeling the music. i can feel the couch breathing. that is scary. i get paranoid lying there. if he walked in, what could i do. id always like to have some sidearm with me. i think ill be a regular gun carrying adult when im able to purchase one. that way, i could whip it off my side and yell "freeze motherfucker." of course i would see him throw something at me and feel the knife thud into my chest and i would pop off a shot and he would convulse in midair and then hit the ground. my family upstairs would hear the report of the gun and come running down and amidst explaining how i prevented our assured destruction, explain to them why i was carrying a gun anyway. those thoughts soon turn sour.

i had been watching 'band of brothers' earlier tonight. a bit intense if i say so... good though. i think about hiroshima. i saw a video once of the city before the bomb. people walking around like normal. in the context of the film you expect to see it all go in a couple seconds but it never does. i can see a man limping down the street after the bomb. i would be on the ground leaning up against a building coughing and see him walking along. i would catch my breath because i dont want him to see me... dont want it to see me. it occurs to me that i dont know really what the japanese study as far as religion. i wonder if the guy is christian. maybe he believed in god a couple minutes ago. before all this happened. i wonder to myself if he believes in god now. limping around with a wild look in his eyes... no lower jaw, just his tongue hanging out his throat. hes trying to call for help but it is just a gurgle from his mangled vocal chords. this man is a monster, what would i do if he saw me? he would want help but what good am i? i imagine myself handing him my sidearm so he could put a bullet in his brain. i try to imagine myself with no face but i cant. im pretty sure i would want a gun too. does he believe in god now? does anyone? if he was a christian... if his soul... his soul left his body. like in a cartoon when the soul leaves the body, would it have a jaw? would it have a face? if i was in hiroshima i would want to be right there at ground zero. i want to watch the bomb fall and mark its descent. i want to stand with open arms accepting it and noting what it felt like to be because in an instant, in a magnificent flash of light, i would not be anymore. like a defective toy, discontinued on the spot. disentigrated in a millisecond. that is the way to die. theres your faith in god. theres going to heaven. they say the blast was so bright that the shadows of the people near it were burned into the ground. theres your grave. i remember going to the air and space museum just a week ago and seeing the enola gay. the bomber that dropped the bomb. it was incredible, right there in person. my favorite artifact, an amazing thing to witness. a spectacle. the plane that dropped the bomb. it seems now i couldnt hate it more. i wonder if that pilot died with a face. a girl's account said she tried to sheild herself when it went off and she felt her hand go through her face. i dont know how she lived to tell about it. maybe nobody around her had a gun. i will always carry a gun.

if you have looked at the archives or even read for a length of time you will see how things have gone downhill. i cant even bring myself to write happy poetry anymore. i dont think as much in the abstract. at least i dont write it down. im not so happy... not so happy anymore. maybe its just a trend, a phase, a cycle. its cruel. maybe i will stop hating what i do everyday. maybe i will think i look better than what i feel like i look now. maybe i will realize someday that without contact, purity shows and that i need to stop discounting people when there isnt anything to discount. i dont apologize for being the way i am. maybe if things were different i would be a bit more interesting, a bit happier, a bit less depressing but hell, things arent like that. i write less for you except to shock and more for therapy to myself. ive been writing for half an hour already. that is time i didnt have to spend being sad at least. its time im not lonely, where i can just sit here with my supposed allergies and shadow outlined to the right of the screen and sick light in the background with some bad shit on the television and just spout for a while. like that little tea pot... just spout. because if i werent here i would be thinking about being a monster with no face in hiroshima... about crying out for help and simply being handed a loaded weapon to heal my wounds. about being in bulgaria in january of 1944 and having my legs blown off by a mortar. of fucking jumping out the window and seeing if i really wouldnt get hurt at all. shit, i might actually be sleeping. who wants that for themselves though? id rather see hiroshima than sleep.

you dont give me much to go on
but i still play along
sure weve had our disagreements
but, hell, youre never wrong
i get the feeling that you dont care --
your care's a different kind
but my faith is like a bullet
and just about as blind
i see you nearly every day, dear
exposed in picture frames
against my will and better judgment
you cant deserve the blame
to me this kind of substance living
aint really worth a fuck
but i wouldnt want to change it, dear
cause i still thank my luck

"but what about me?
i dont really see
how things will improve"

terror and fun combined
a steady climb a swift decline
i lost my mind
i travel back in time
a magic ride you're mine

didnt write that... holds true though. its all a rollercoaster ride for me. its fun though, the climb and the fall are all relatively the same. its like no matter what is going on, it aint too hard to be happy with it. you just have to be content with whatever's going on. just because youre sad it doesnt mean you cant enjoy being sad. milk it for all its worth, drag other people down, be a fucking bastard for a while. nobody will really blame you. if youre happy then fuckin be happy, that one wasnt that tough. it isnt impossible to be content rather than happy. i might just be stuck in the corkscrews.

i love living inside my head... it aint bad at all. its not too boring or too dull. so comfortable. i cant possibly survive in the dank dark head corners of some other people i know.

haha, i know yall dont give a shit

out of time, more later.

i beat the fucking school buses out the fucking elementary school today. mother fucking little kids, they should die.

yesterday was a good day... good day/good evening/good night/good late night... thanks yall

back from spring break. it was... well it wasnt school. i wrote some bad poetry. its here if you want to read it. as for actually writing about any of it... ill probably be too lazy to.

*could i please be objective i think to myself and i think it out loud but you hear me and i think it quietly
*quietly you cant hear me quietly you cant see me and i cant see you from behind this veil you wear that my eyes put on you
*ill hide from you daily ill hide from you from states away and pretend to see you but you wont see me im too quiet

~*~

another plastic bag suicide
another super pill that does it all
the rist of side effects is very low
with luck your dick may even grow
fed to children the results apall

another tanning bed catastrophy
your gucci bags cant cost too much
cause theyre stylish and still far too small
its not for packing things at all
appearance is your only crutch

another botox bloated golden age
the magazines report on time
now miss diva of the century
is wearing lip shade #3
highway robbery is not a crime

another raised-by-tv bride-to-be
and hey, if youre not the sharpest knife
you can still observe the well-to-do
with their fancy cars and rooms of shoes
making the best of your sorry life

another plastic bag suicide
another tanning bed catastrophy
another botox bloated golden age
another raised-by-tv bride-to-be
one more multi-million dollar fight
one more mvp card shopping spree
one more succubus to quench my thirst
one more hit on my life of riley

~*~

the ripples on the ceiling spread outward from a central point
exactly where i focus my eyes it fries with waves of heat
a sprinkler head for bon fires sits random like a metal tooth
the dirty corporate lampshades never had much to do with me
the blinds are always closed simply cause the city might see us
and find a way to send their dirty vibes through our hotel walls
the wallpaper is crawling but lacks even a partial soul
while half-nude mirrors cower from showers that just may have claws
days inside a hotel room does wonders for one's perception
the richness of your cars cloth seats contrasts the system's nylon touch
its enough to make you bleed
bleed right out your eyes

you might be a redneck if...
so yes... my life as a cowboy.

i wrote new lyrics to a song that was stuck in my head. i will give a prize to anyone that figures out what song it was that i rewrote. your three clues are:

1) its old- 70's
2) its a stoner song from a stoner band
3) subject matter is almost similar
4) it is not "on the road again"

"Harnett County Line"

laid back in leather and nowhere to be
i kick out from fuquay at a quarter till three
dont know where im going or what im running from
cant help but thinking what if i dont come home

(chorus):
on the road again
where speed aint a sin
gas is gone but i dont know what that means
theres storm clouds ahead, you know, and nothing behind
dammit son there goes that Harnett County line

sixty-five buts its all relative
corner and straight is just a take and a give
back down the hill to the end of all time
right to the country and back left to the line

(chorus)

back way in the city but shot out again
running as smooth as i would on straight gin
the end aint in sight and shit dont justify means
but for now its the back roads and country i never seen

(chorus repeat fade out)...

if you think you know what it is, email me here and i will get back to you.

peace out yall...