bowflex

shit on a tit with a zit on it. then the tit zit pops and the shit gets in the sore. the zit ooze is rushing out while the poo goo is rushing in. its a violent cross tidal cesspool of white blood cells and brown poo juice. the infection becomes infected. it grows and grows until...third tit. tit on tit next to tit. infection tit. i put my head in the haircut machine today. they've really worked out the kinks on those kinky little devils. my head is as clean and aerodynamic as an egg with wings. also that egg went through the dishwasher earlier, so it is clean and a little bit hardboiled and definitely not ever going to turn into a chicken. now my hats will fit more loosely and i will look like a true professional. stats it horrible, i guess you probably could have guessed. there is something about teachers with strong asian accents that schools find irresistible when searching for statistics teachers. its probably because probability being pronounced 'probabirity' is so goddamn funny. anyways, i will work hard and get an A. then i will shit on the teacher behind her back. no, i will start with shitting on the teacher behind her back and then get an A. to all things order must be assigned. be not jealous jew for i am creator of all things, yay. trying to loose all the chunk on my belly so as to reveal the stomach muscles. then i will be happy. oh the happy i will be. beans expand! shit son you dont even know. 6 cups makes a full bowl of beans. well this player knows what to pack when the apocalypse is nigh. some rice on the side. yum yum dum dum. lebron looks like am ubermensch. stronger, faster, smarter, meaner, funnier. if only i could have one more commercial shoved down my throat i'm sure i would be able to make a decision regarding the sandwich i should eat. is it subway? i have no way of knowing. my back cracks. i dunk. i take a dump. i bike. i eat. i clean. i cook. i am important. thank you nature. that sunshine does the trick. pimp.

someone is a grumpy gus, and the someone is me, gus. i went to the haircut store today. right here in my very own bathroom. it did not go too well. but not too bad either. just emotionally draining. maybe what i need to do is...oh i yeah. i definitely need to watch more tv. oh god tv. you are so very very good to me, i couldnt live without you. well, not again anyways. america is bad. television is really bad. i think it makes me bad too. my brain bad. my throat hurts. i lost at basketball. i start school tomorrow. i am dumb. and ugly. with a poorly shaped head. oh the shape of my head. so lumpy. god i wish i had a sweet super aerodynamic head that used the wind like a sail. this has not been helpful. fuck you writing.

hello introspection

not sick but morbid lifes too short
dont shorten it
stab me to death
with a fork for the sport of it
this sad behavior
dont encourage it

hello sad songs and introspection, hello the other side of the moon and mars hill church. hello the wah mee massacre and fake walt whitman rambling on and on. hello to feeling a little lonely. hello liquid sunshine falling from the sky forever and ever. hello the underbelly of seattle. hello good dreams and being home. hello starting school. hello uneasiness. hello absolute honesty. hello honesty so deep and sharp it cuts to shreds all the colors except silver and blue. hello my craziness. hello goodbye to my political aspirations. hello saying things that have an intended affect on others rather than what i really feel. hello resentment. hello the unknown. you've got a habit.

hello kansas sunset goodbye

Strangulated Hernia

I want to be taken seriously, and more importantly, take my work seriously.

I don’t want to focus on the failures of my past, but rather use negative energy to fuel rebirth

I understand the reason to put in effort is the expectation of a commensurate reward.

I have a legitimate chance of nailing it and I want to nail it!

Two Weeks of Insanity

He put the rock in his pipe and put the butane flame to the butt of the glass. It jutted out from his lip at a crazy angle and when the heat hit the small rock it smoked and fumed and drew the dirty yellow vapor into his lungs. There was a harsh, sweet smelling, chemical burn and his eyes were transfixed on the blue of the clear yellow lighter that was catalyzing his meth. The smoke was potent and he began to see the light blue waters of American Samoa float up and up and his eyes looked down to see the gummed up and dirty dry concrete beneath his feet. He felt the sun rays hit his orange New York City skin. He believed in white sand, bone white and the red and white empty potato chip bag that lay there by his untied sneaker, he was a friendly crab scuttling home to his crabby wife. A fine watery line of spittle fell slowly from his mouth onto the ground and landed with a little splat. As he continued to stare deep into space and the bristled edge of his sneaker toe he began to believe that his eyes were as blue and piercing as the shallow ocean around American Samoa, he believed that his eyes were becoming paler and more beautiful, enticing, alluring…he dreamed with his eyes open until his neck muscles relaxed and he hit his head on the top of the phone box.

be cool, its just a C-

My goals are modest and revolve more around the difference I can make in a community than any set number of dollars earned or clients served. The difference I want to make in the world with my MBA wont be measured in the number of new franchises opened or steak dinners I’ll be treated too. Instead I will satisfied to see closed store fronts lit up again with the hard work of an idealist entrepreneur. I want to see a world with less waste space, less expansion into nature and better use of the spaces already created by man. I want to use business and my knowledge of the workings of capital to efficiently and responsibly give people the ability to expand their ambitions from the realm of unknowing and imagination into the real world for the benefit of everyone in their community and beyond. I saw today a jet that will transport people from paris to Tokyo in just under three hours. But who benefits from such a machine? There will still be teaming slums in the suburbs of paris full of people who never have the opportunity to leave their daily troubles and foils, much less for a daily jaunt to Tokyo. I believe that as the world becomes smaller for some, the slums become more crowded and pressurized for others. The whole world of professionals is filled with pressure and stress. It’s imperative that you understand that I believe that these people are stressed. The high blood pressure and receding hairlines will not lie, a professional in a suit and tie staying late at the office is as stressed as any other man. I question though what it is that these people are stressed over. The world of professionals in the united states stopped producing things years ago. A twelve hour work day is not possible for those who have a physical aspect to their work. So those who choose to pursue professions that ask nothing of them physically are forgoing the world of the body, which is where instincts and humanity lie. Would any man work through the day if he valued the passage of time? For the people who work from sun up to sun down and well into the darkness of midnight the hours on the clock exist only to prove their dedication to work, however the actual quality of their contribution cannot be increased with each consecutive hour on the job. People require variety and spice in life. Money becomes a blinding driver of irrational behavior, dread and anxiety.

to get ahead of the curve

Well several shorts memories ago we could have hardly seen such a thing as the present moment. Luckily through advances in medical science and calmness we now realize that the time we are experiencing now is in fact predertimined not from some fantastical place in the future where we are one with the universe but in fact from the ignorance that we expatriate with every moment we are alive and curious. Time was when we did not know who we were or what time was, and as luck would have it gaining the knowledge of a definition of time or in fact more likely creating that definition out of free air did not in fact endow us with any true knowledge of the mechanics of this concept of time, much less the abiliity to manipulate it or move through it in a fluid manner. Rather we are a set of images hastily strung together by a brain designed through generations to create a fluid sense of the world for the purposes of survival and surface level sanity. The eye moves and the pan is edited out instantaneously by the brain. All things look smooth. All looks are seamless. even though optically this is impossible, truly understanding the mechanics of such a thing are beyond the scope of the human experience. Even knowing that there is a limit to the human experience is probably not an ideal trait in an ideally happy person, but I suppose that is not what I am going for and it never was. And to whom should I credit this great deal of knowledge and unhappiness. To whom can I attribute fault. Applying it to myself seems a little unwieldy since I have already imbibed and been of so much unhappy knowledge. None of what I have learned leads me to believe that there is a great god in the sky who is capable of handling the responsibility of my disappointment in the human experience. I think then, that I shall blame all my unhappiness on the next very fat person that I see on the street. Not only fat, but tall too. Someone behind whom I could be totally eclipsed. Only a person of that girth, who is capable of concealing and holding my entire physical being would be capable of holding my entire set of nonsensical disappointments and unhappinesses. I would be pleased to find this person and probably reward them with an unwieldy stare. They could hold all of my fears and all of my hopes in their heavy, slow moving frame.