in one hour and 38 minutes it will be christop's birthday. everybody get naked now, in advance.

http://christop.com

hey. psb. i see your boxers.

flying off the stage with eyes closed soul strain mind pain brain strain disposed casual take on dead-end make disclosed rambling fueled by drunken intake enclosed with carnal smile and driven wild imposed by viral death and desperation disclosed by intoxication frustration reload reload reload and fire again.

'it' - yeah... oh baby

fucking with the clucking with some mental decay swaying with the braying with a narcissistic display drilling without milling over a psychotic day and trilling making millions while they enter the fray it's like the blind leading swine while they oink and they pray and the christian quietly wishin dead gods would show them the way...

damn.

i could do this for hours.

do it for flowers or for power but make sure you drop the ducats today for the lost for the dropped for the wasted and strays for the crying who keep prying open doors who want locked while the soul-cold fuckers keep their glocks on cock we try to live try to give but we're all locked down striving to make meaning out of concrete in a dead-end town

you're a clown
who can't frown
and in your smile
you will drown

brown.

whiteblackorangegreen

you still come around...

in the center of the storm there is always a calm despite the murder or injustice or the fright of the bomb somehow you always end up at sorabji dot com...

okay.

that was cheesy.

i'm going to sleep now.

blah blah blah-blah blah blah-blah-blah-blah-blah

blah-blah blah blah blah blah blah blah-blah blah-blah blah-blah-blah

blah blah blah (all this shit will get lost like all the other shit, right?) blah blah-blah blah blah-blah blah blah-blah...

shit.

i'm wasted.

shit.

i can't sleep.

ok...

jack and jill went up the fucking hill to fetch that god-damn pail of water that nasty slave-driving bitch wanted... y'know... i never liked that woman. after that voodoo snuff flick where they offed winnie-the-poo, i just lost all respect for the crack-smoking whore... i mean, it's not like she's such a bad person or anything, but anyone who films big-bird getting a little innocent play on the sesame street casting couch.... i dunno... it just seems wrong... y'know? but who knows. some of you folks might dig that shit... and i'm sure as hell not one to make any judgements or anything... anyway... i hear that bus from montana is chock full o' runaways... time to head to the port authority. catch ya at the YMCA.

don't be late.

Eating tuna late late at night
I've got fate to fight
But try as I might
I can't reach the light.

Cheese in a can, man. That was awful.

I feel like a corn nut now. This is what poetry class does to a guy.

It's too late to be thinking of such things, but I'm getting that nasty gnawing feeling that things are going to go very wrong if they continue on this road. It's unnatural for me to be in a happy relationship and be doing well in school and healthy and happy... The return of my knee injury must be the signalling event... Telling all the variables in my life that it's time to come crashing down... Like the first signal shot of war. I'm afraid to go to the doctor because I know He'll tell me that I should go through some more Physical Therapy or Surgery or SOMETHING that will cause major stress and begin the chain reaction of undone schoolwork and irritibility which will alienate my friends and loved ones, I'll get lonely and depressed and I'll be back where I was before, only this time it's permanent... I'm old enough now to have to live with consequences.

But, like I said... It's too late to be mulling over such things. Nothing is in perspective at 1:40 AM on a Tuesday night with nobody to talk to.

As always, there are things to be done.

[email protected]
http://marvin.smoothness.org

wishing Christop a happy birthday!

Feliz Compliano (sp?)

[email protected]

Happy Birthday, Christop! and many more

warning everone to stay away from the GREEN BEER. It's green because its's full of GREEN ENERGY DEMONS.

Drink Guinness and Bushmill's instead.

May the bad times of your lives be as few and far apart as my uncle's teeth.


Slainte!

mourning the passing of charlie manson's guitar.

why must people be so cruel?

having a Bushmill's

go, Erin's bra.

hoping for a new picture soon. the dog scares me.

swine, what are glocks?

[email protected]

at the day-job.

i've gotta quit moonlighting as a drunken raving lunatic. my head is killing me and my mouth is pasty.

i'm getting too old for this shit.

and sarah, they're semi-automatic pistols.

keep your mental glock on cock.

just try not to misfire.

having a beer at work.

I'm afraid even the alcohol can't make this place interesting.

[email protected]

Really pleased with the impromptu lyric shrapnel which flayed my tired mind.

[email protected]

feeling spunky!

making a jelly sandwich in my mind and patching an ass grabbers broken heart, as I mend the sparrows caw. And it flies into the eternal anus.

trying to make two people find each other, and like each other...


its not going to work.

snorfling

Minnie's shoes! oh god...

I'm 100% off...

"Before you criticize someone, walk a mile in their shoes. Then when you criticize them, you will be a mile away and have their shoes."

-wantzdaddy

http://www.zancro.com

okay, i think i have recovered enough to tell you a bit about my meeting with the swine. please allow me to tell you all about this exciting event in my life: MY FIRST INTERNET BUDDY!

got ready for our meeting with swine. for some reason, i was nervous.

met swine at the noodle ranch in belltown. he was sitting at a table by himself, listening to headphones and puzzling over the menu. he looked perplexed. i introduced myself, dave, and our friend shannon who plays scrabble with swine. he sounded like a dude, like a radio dj or something. it surprised me. swine is a very handsome gentleman, let's just get that part out of the way. okay. moving right along.

we ate some food. swine kept getting the skinny little rice noodles stuck on the corners of his mouth. i thought it would be rude to remove them, but he eventually took care of this problem. he decided pretty much right off that he liked us all, and began to reveal all of the secrets of his life. not really, i just thought that would be a funny thing to say. he decided that i was punk rock.

we left the restaurant and went to the rendezvous, possibly one of the seediest bars on the planet. the waitress neglected us for about fifteen minutes, and then came over when dave and swine went to the bar to order drinks. typical. my bloody mary was rank, and swine complained that his lynchberg lemonade was making his belly ache. dave had beer. shannon had a vodka martini, and i watched her enjoy her olives with jealousy, as i had not been provided with any in my bloody. we eventually got too sketched out by the clientele of the bar, and fled.

next stop was linda's. after having our id's checked and discovering that there was not a single place to sit in the entire bar, we opted to move on. we meandered across the street to the kincorra pub, an irish-esque type bar. there were large samoan men hefting gigantic bundles of brown butcher paper around in the bar. very strange. we settled in, i had some cider and the rest started in on pitcher after pitcher after pitcher of dark beer. they drank beer, i drank cider, a good time was had by all. i went to put some money into the jukebox, and then realized that it was unplugged. i turned around to see a group of high-fiving white guys laughing at me. bastards. several minutes later, a woman that swine thought was a transvestite went over to the machine and began selecting her music, as the jukebox had mysteriously gotten turned on after i put my money in and was laughed at. i told her the story, and she looked at me as though i was insane and said: "well, the machine was turned off, you know." i became freshly embarrassed once again. anyhow, we became quite drunk at this pub. swine went to the bathroom about seventy eight times, and i went a minimum of five times. things were getting hairy. the time was nearing two am, so we departed for the grocery store with our mission: MORE BEER. i got some black licorice at the store, as well. we purchased three sixpacks of beer and two packs of cigarettes, and went to shannon's house. we immediately woke up her husband vaughn. the children were asleep on the floor, and miraculously did not wake up. we tucked them into austin's bizarre plastic car shaped bed. the evening began to get ugly as more beer was consumed. everyone began to overtalk everyone else. it eventually degenerated into all five of us interrupting each other and basically talking to ourselves. shannon's gay hairdresser friend courtney showed up with his dog, stella, changing the already interesting drunken group dynamic even more. stella is one of the cutest fox terriers i have ever seen. shannon and vaughn's fox terrier baxter just got hit by a car and dragged forty feet down the street. he is a little scrapper, still alive, and doing quite well with three legs. i was ruminating on the randomness of shannon and vaughn's pets- a cat with half a tail, a manic depressive turtle that bashes his head on the cage, and now a three legged dog. i began to laugh, and could not stop. i knew it was all over for me for the evening.

some topics we covered, as near as i can recall: three legged dogs, tai bo, sorabji.com, my crazy friends, the way brains function, music, race, gender, politics, new york, seattle, places we have lived, strange hotel stories, having children, yaddah yaddah. suffice it to say, blindswine is an interesting character indeed. he does not just play one on the internet.

time went on. it was nearing four am. i grew weak and foggy brained. i knew it was time for me to go to bed. swine was weakening, growing more and more convoluted with his lines of reasoning. he decided to call a cab and go back to the hotel room. we bid him a fond adieu, and passed out on a half filled air mattress on the floor. dave stole all of the covers, as usual. i woke up at ten am, feeling very bad. i'm really glad i met him, i hope this story was not too anticlimactic for you, and good night.

[email protected]