He ought to be an admiral,
a sultan or a king
And to his praises,
we shall always sing
look what he's done for us,
he's filled us full of cheer
Goddess bless Charlie Mopps,
The man who invented beer.
27.12.09
23.12.09
bukowski, Pt.I
Bukowski is the man. He gets it.
these women are supposed to come
and see me
but they never
do.
there's the one with the long scar along her
belly.
there's the other who writes poems
and phones at 3 a.m., saying,
"I love you."
there's the one who dances with a
boa constrictor
and writes every four
weeks, she'll come,
she says.
and the 4th who claims she sleeps
always
with my latest book
under her
pillow.
I whack off in the heat
and listen to Brahms and eat
blue cheese with chili
peppers.
these are women of good mind
and body, excellent in or out of bed,
dangerous and deadly, of
course-
but why do they all have to live
up north?
I know that someday they'll
arrive, but two or three
on the same day, and
we'll sit around and talk
and then they'll all leave
together.
somebody else will have them
and I will walk about
in my floppy shorts
smoking too many cigarettes
and trying to make drama
out of
no damned progress
at all.
Bahaha.
these women are supposed to come
and see me
but they never
do.
there's the one with the long scar along her
belly.
there's the other who writes poems
and phones at 3 a.m., saying,
"I love you."
there's the one who dances with a
boa constrictor
and writes every four
weeks, she'll come,
she says.
and the 4th who claims she sleeps
always
with my latest book
under her
pillow.
I whack off in the heat
and listen to Brahms and eat
blue cheese with chili
peppers.
these are women of good mind
and body, excellent in or out of bed,
dangerous and deadly, of
course-
but why do they all have to live
up north?
I know that someday they'll
arrive, but two or three
on the same day, and
we'll sit around and talk
and then they'll all leave
together.
somebody else will have them
and I will walk about
in my floppy shorts
smoking too many cigarettes
and trying to make drama
out of
no damned progress
at all.
Bahaha.
Bukowski, Pt. II
I mean, for a sixty year old guy writing in the 70s, he still can be pretty entertaining.
And he can write a pretty good story too:
she drives into the parking lot while
I am leaning up against the fender of my car.
she's drunk and her eyes are wet with tears:
"you son of a bitch, you fucked me when you
didn't want to. you told me to keep phoning
you, you told me to move closer into town,
then you told me to leave you alone."
it's all quite dramatic and I enjoy it.
"sure, well, what do you want?"
"I want to talk to you, I want to go to your
place and talk to you..."
"I'm with somebody now. she's in getting a
sandwich."
"I want to talk to you... it takes a while
to get over things. I need more time."
"sure. wait until she comes out. we're not
inhuman. we'll all have a drink together."
"shit," she says, "oh shit!"
she jumps into her car and drives off.
the other one comes out, "who was that?"
"an ex-friend."
now she's gone and I'm sitting here drunk
and my eyes seem wet with tears.
it's very quiet and I feel like I have a spear
rammed into the center of my gut.
I walk to the bathroom and puke.
mercy, I think, doesn't the human race know anything
about mercy?
Bukowski is pretty much the only poet who I will gladly and soberly pick up and read from cover to cover. I can't really think of any other poets I'd usually even bother to read. Maybe it's how simple it is, simple things for simple people, but I'd buy all his books if I had the money (he's got at least a couple dozen).
Some of them are pretty cheap, and always easily available. You should go buy one!
And he can write a pretty good story too:
she drives into the parking lot while
I am leaning up against the fender of my car.
she's drunk and her eyes are wet with tears:
"you son of a bitch, you fucked me when you
didn't want to. you told me to keep phoning
you, you told me to move closer into town,
then you told me to leave you alone."
it's all quite dramatic and I enjoy it.
"sure, well, what do you want?"
"I want to talk to you, I want to go to your
place and talk to you..."
"I'm with somebody now. she's in getting a
sandwich."
"I want to talk to you... it takes a while
to get over things. I need more time."
"sure. wait until she comes out. we're not
inhuman. we'll all have a drink together."
"shit," she says, "oh shit!"
she jumps into her car and drives off.
the other one comes out, "who was that?"
"an ex-friend."
now she's gone and I'm sitting here drunk
and my eyes seem wet with tears.
it's very quiet and I feel like I have a spear
rammed into the center of my gut.
I walk to the bathroom and puke.
mercy, I think, doesn't the human race know anything
about mercy?
Bukowski is pretty much the only poet who I will gladly and soberly pick up and read from cover to cover. I can't really think of any other poets I'd usually even bother to read. Maybe it's how simple it is, simple things for simple people, but I'd buy all his books if I had the money (he's got at least a couple dozen).
Some of them are pretty cheap, and always easily available. You should go buy one!
21.12.09
A little truth.
Want to know a secret?
I spent most of the day at work today fucking with my bosses' computer. I know it's not good form to state something like that quite like that, but I've got three jobs and no one will ever read through this blog closely enough to notice, anyway.
Anyway. I don't do anything overt. I just play with it. Delete her solitare highscores and the like. If you can't give me more than three hours notice that I'm supposed to be working, maybe you should pull your boots up and write me up a schedual, because until then you don't deserve to beat my score, and thus replace my enigmatic little message that I've had sitting in first place for the last few weeks.
I get that this sounds totally uninteresting, so I should point out, she doesn't actually know for sure that anyone is touching her desk. For the last month, I've had the fun of watching her pull out her hair trying to figure out why everything's been slightly changed, why all her saved files are suddenly even more horribly misspelled than usual, and why every bit of security she puts up is nicely back in place when she gets back. I can be bloody sneaky, a lousy password and some cleverly placed things aren't enough to catch me, chum.
It might suprise you to know that this blog was actually going to be alot deeper, and more or less explore the sentiment that I've thrown away most of my chances and have wasted my life. As it turns out, I just kept getting more impressed with my ability to fuck around with an idiot, to the point where I decided that maybe my life wasn't such a waste. Who knows, if it turns out I can cause cardiac arrest in a fat waste of air, maybe I'll have a purpose after all.
I spent most of the day at work today fucking with my bosses' computer. I know it's not good form to state something like that quite like that, but I've got three jobs and no one will ever read through this blog closely enough to notice, anyway.
Anyway. I don't do anything overt. I just play with it. Delete her solitare highscores and the like. If you can't give me more than three hours notice that I'm supposed to be working, maybe you should pull your boots up and write me up a schedual, because until then you don't deserve to beat my score, and thus replace my enigmatic little message that I've had sitting in first place for the last few weeks.
I get that this sounds totally uninteresting, so I should point out, she doesn't actually know for sure that anyone is touching her desk. For the last month, I've had the fun of watching her pull out her hair trying to figure out why everything's been slightly changed, why all her saved files are suddenly even more horribly misspelled than usual, and why every bit of security she puts up is nicely back in place when she gets back. I can be bloody sneaky, a lousy password and some cleverly placed things aren't enough to catch me, chum.
It might suprise you to know that this blog was actually going to be alot deeper, and more or less explore the sentiment that I've thrown away most of my chances and have wasted my life. As it turns out, I just kept getting more impressed with my ability to fuck around with an idiot, to the point where I decided that maybe my life wasn't such a waste. Who knows, if it turns out I can cause cardiac arrest in a fat waste of air, maybe I'll have a purpose after all.
18.12.09
This is going to be a big complaint, so I'm putting this warning up top here. It's probably good that you and I establish some ground rules for this place anyway. Case in point, I'm not a nice person, I don't say nice things about most people, and I'm fully capable of being deliciously cold and unkind. That said, this is MY blog, and I don't want a bunch of slutty little girls whining on it about something I'm say. If I say "I think you (specifically) are an asshole with dead, dry hair", then that's my problem and not yours, isn't it? If you really want to do something about it, maybe don't go running off to Suzie Q. Cocksucker and say "LOOK WHAT HE SAID ABOUT MY HAIR! ON THIS INTERNET THING!", because that only means more people will know I think you're an asshole with bad hair, and it's really pretty stupid to tell everybody to come find that out (unless you think so to, I guess). Equally, if I say something like "Suzie Q. Cocksucker is a jerk" or something like that, and you happen to know someone so unfortunately named, then I hope you can at least see why running off to tell her I think she's a jerk won't do anything but cause drama. It's just my opinion, if it's not something you like, then why the fuck are you on my blog? Besides, there's really no reason to get mad about something like that unless it's the truth and I've accidentally informed the world, in which case you should be like me and be willing to admit you're an asshole. If it's not the truth or you really don't believe it is, then just say "Eh, Steve is kinda stupid and doesn't know what he talking about". Don't come whining to me about it, do something constructive like starting your own blog dedicated to bashing me or learning how to properly hang yourself. Not only would the prior stroke my ego, but good insults are hard to come by and I'd probably respect you more if you were ever capable of offending me. THe latter works just as well. We're running out of parking spaces in town, and it's hard to get good tables in Mike's anymore.
Anyway, glad we got that settled. I can tell this is going to be long already, so I promise never to write this much shit again. At least not this much shit that's really only of personal interest.
BUT ANYWAY...
I hate it when my "old friends" want to hang out, the ones I used to be just great buddies with but haven't talked to in a year or two. Yeah, I realize there's been years of friendship and all that shit, but don't you think maybe there's a reason why we stopped talking?
For the most part, I don't really think highly of most of the people I know. Don't get me wrong, I know there are good people out there, and plenty of them, but I believe like attracts like, and I don't consider myself an incredibly great person, so thusly most of the people I hang out with are pure shit. I don't think most of them would disagree, but for some reason alot of them can't see a reason why I wouldn't want to be around them anymore.
So for those who just don't get it, here's a couple indicators:
If I say "See you around" at any point, then this means I really will see you around, because I don't plan to make any effort to see you regularly. This is my attempt at politely telling someone to fuck off. I'll be more obvious if I have to, but it's alot nicer when I don't have to say things like "Well, the truth is, you're kind of a useless cocksucker who really only makes more issues in my usually nice, smoothly running world, and you're more or less dead to me".
If you blow me off more than a couple times without bothering to tell me in advance. I don't care if you have a reason or if you just don't want to hang out, it's perfectly fine so long as someone lets me know, but I've got lots of things to do and not lots of time to do them, so it bothers me when it's wasted on some skeeze.
If you ask me for shit repeatedly, I don't care who you are, but I'm done wasting time with you. For one, learn to take care of your own fucking problems. I could usually care less about the little dramatic shit you have going on in your life, and I certainly don't owe you shit all besides that. Maybe I'm just "insecure" or some similar shitty psych-pop 90s word, but if every time I come over you ask for a ride, or if I wanna buy you food, drugs, etc, or if I can take you to another friend's house, then I'm soon going to start thinking that's the only reason you want me there. I look at most of the people I know, and this is all it is. I don't even think this was bothering to me before I nearly died a few times last year and Sam Gabriel was the only person to notice or give a shit about (something I still don't really get, since I don't think we were even really talking or anything, but she'd still manage to show up whenever I got really fucked and started throwing up). The more I look around, the more I believe people are disgusting leeches, and the less I want those people near me.
I guess the last big thing is making excuses for stupid shit, telling little lies, and generally just being a shit. Tye (not the one probably reading this, but the male one) talks shit about EVERYONE behind their back, and openly fucks his other friends over when they aren't around (come to think of it, both you fuckers do this, yes Tylar, I do hear all the things you've been saying about me, but anyway), then wonders why some people don't want to hang out with them. A used to be close friend of mine blew me off for two years, moved, then blamed it on "Having too strong of feelings" for me, so that we could still be friends at her convenience when she comes back. If you're really so weak that you can't be around someone you presumably used to call a best friend without needing to jump their bones, or really so self-concerned to think that's a really decent reason, then I probably don't want to be around you. If you act all "Well gee, I'll make some time for you when I'm around next, you're welcome" about it, then I really don't care if you are around period.
Anyway, I don't really know what the point of this is. I guess lots of people have been asking me to hang out lately, and I felt like I need to explain somewhat why most of my time around lots of you has been nothing but awkward silences. So yeah, there's the secrect. It's because for the most part, I have no interest in you, and nothing at all to say.
Anyway, glad we got that settled. I can tell this is going to be long already, so I promise never to write this much shit again. At least not this much shit that's really only of personal interest.
BUT ANYWAY...
I hate it when my "old friends" want to hang out, the ones I used to be just great buddies with but haven't talked to in a year or two. Yeah, I realize there's been years of friendship and all that shit, but don't you think maybe there's a reason why we stopped talking?
For the most part, I don't really think highly of most of the people I know. Don't get me wrong, I know there are good people out there, and plenty of them, but I believe like attracts like, and I don't consider myself an incredibly great person, so thusly most of the people I hang out with are pure shit. I don't think most of them would disagree, but for some reason alot of them can't see a reason why I wouldn't want to be around them anymore.
So for those who just don't get it, here's a couple indicators:
If I say "See you around" at any point, then this means I really will see you around, because I don't plan to make any effort to see you regularly. This is my attempt at politely telling someone to fuck off. I'll be more obvious if I have to, but it's alot nicer when I don't have to say things like "Well, the truth is, you're kind of a useless cocksucker who really only makes more issues in my usually nice, smoothly running world, and you're more or less dead to me".
If you blow me off more than a couple times without bothering to tell me in advance. I don't care if you have a reason or if you just don't want to hang out, it's perfectly fine so long as someone lets me know, but I've got lots of things to do and not lots of time to do them, so it bothers me when it's wasted on some skeeze.
If you ask me for shit repeatedly, I don't care who you are, but I'm done wasting time with you. For one, learn to take care of your own fucking problems. I could usually care less about the little dramatic shit you have going on in your life, and I certainly don't owe you shit all besides that. Maybe I'm just "insecure" or some similar shitty psych-pop 90s word, but if every time I come over you ask for a ride, or if I wanna buy you food, drugs, etc, or if I can take you to another friend's house, then I'm soon going to start thinking that's the only reason you want me there. I look at most of the people I know, and this is all it is. I don't even think this was bothering to me before I nearly died a few times last year and Sam Gabriel was the only person to notice or give a shit about (something I still don't really get, since I don't think we were even really talking or anything, but she'd still manage to show up whenever I got really fucked and started throwing up). The more I look around, the more I believe people are disgusting leeches, and the less I want those people near me.
I guess the last big thing is making excuses for stupid shit, telling little lies, and generally just being a shit. Tye (not the one probably reading this, but the male one) talks shit about EVERYONE behind their back, and openly fucks his other friends over when they aren't around (come to think of it, both you fuckers do this, yes Tylar, I do hear all the things you've been saying about me, but anyway), then wonders why some people don't want to hang out with them. A used to be close friend of mine blew me off for two years, moved, then blamed it on "Having too strong of feelings" for me, so that we could still be friends at her convenience when she comes back. If you're really so weak that you can't be around someone you presumably used to call a best friend without needing to jump their bones, or really so self-concerned to think that's a really decent reason, then I probably don't want to be around you. If you act all "Well gee, I'll make some time for you when I'm around next, you're welcome" about it, then I really don't care if you are around period.
Anyway, I don't really know what the point of this is. I guess lots of people have been asking me to hang out lately, and I felt like I need to explain somewhat why most of my time around lots of you has been nothing but awkward silences. So yeah, there's the secrect. It's because for the most part, I have no interest in you, and nothing at all to say.
15.12.09
Conversations with myself
You should start a blog.
Why?
Well, all yer average evening consists of is dumping a pile of drugs into your system, then sitting in your room talking to yerself.
Thank you for not completely oversimplifying my life.
Aye, well, you know full well what I mean. At least that way yeh can just write shit down. I'm worried that eventually you'll get yerself fucked enough to start thinking there's someone else with you all the time. You read that Forrest Griffen book. Do you really just want to be another Goodwill Hunting character?
We both know I've never seen that movie, but considering that you, my second-person internal mental process, just refered to yourself in the first person, I can kind of see your point.
Well, glad we agree.
Thus did I start a blog.
Why?
Well, all yer average evening consists of is dumping a pile of drugs into your system, then sitting in your room talking to yerself.
Thank you for not completely oversimplifying my life.
Aye, well, you know full well what I mean. At least that way yeh can just write shit down. I'm worried that eventually you'll get yerself fucked enough to start thinking there's someone else with you all the time. You read that Forrest Griffen book. Do you really just want to be another Goodwill Hunting character?
We both know I've never seen that movie, but considering that you, my second-person internal mental process, just refered to yourself in the first person, I can kind of see your point.
Well, glad we agree.
Thus did I start a blog.
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