September 2010: I achieve moderation by contrary excesses.

by maddrunkgenius

I’ve tried to live in silence the past several days, at home & in the car. There’s a bit too much me in my mind than I’ve come to be comfortable with, without the external doolaadurp available. I want my liquid ego to drip out my ear, or creep out & recharge at a Kandrona pool, Yeerky little thing it is.

Surprising, smothering, almost unwelcome generosity.

  • But he bought everything for the four of us.

‘I had a conversation with a dog. I think Palestinians can have a conversation with Israelis.’–a friend on psychedelic mushrooms and peace in the Holy Land

I love all the wrong the people too much.

  • ‘Fuck Obama.’
  • ‘Fuck Nixon.’
  • ‘Get fucked & be happy. / It’s all we have / till we die.’ –A bar bathroom argument.

Let’s pray on it.

  • Empty things are for the empty, and full things are for the full.
  • Were you to put a gun to my head & ask me if I believed in God, the divinity of Christ & the salvation of mankind, I’d sigh, say, ‘Yes,’ & let my brains stain the wallpaper. But ask me after a few drinks or over coffee, and I’ll tell you it’s just us now & the worms after. (Somehow the matyrdom/resignation of the former is product of the conviction of the latter.)

‘Open your mouth and drink what I give you to drink.’ So I opened my mouth, and a full cup was offered to me; it was full of something like water, but its color was like fire. It tasted of wisdom & my understanding increased. My heart burst over & over within my chest, and my tongue became unchained, pouring great blasts of flaming, sparky truth from my mouth.

I can’t eat any more anymore, but I’m famished and ragged.

Last night a truck ran a red light in front of me. I was two seconds from getting t boned and survived solely by providence, nothing else. This is life. But I get to keep living it. For another day. I had a heaven I didn’t deserve the night before. Life evens out, but sometimes, in my case usually, for the better.

I don’t think people acknowledge just how weird armadillos are. If they were in Australia I mean, sure, whatever, but they’re in America. AMERICA.

I achieve moderation by contrary excesses.

  • ‘I’m not afraid of the dark,’ she said, tossing her hair back and flashing a mature grin across her nubile face.
  • ‘I’m terrified of the place where there is no darkness,’ he mumbled and frowned, but knew already his misgivings would change nothing, not even his mind.
  • So they stepped forward and fell straight down in the well but not even forgetfulness awaited them there.
  • All passed away, first silent then still, but there was no sign of Jack or Jill, and not even they noticed or gave absence their mind.
  • They earth rolled time forward till used to became not yet, but Jack and Jill never came back.
  • (sleep while you have breath, not after)

Ho ho, what brilliant overexertion and subsequent underachievement. By force of will and coffee, the onset of hangover succeeds despite my continuing consciousness. Oh solipsism, foiled again.

Last night’s Ray Charles of three liquors gives me the shivers now in retrospect, but really did make my mind’s eye black out for a while.

The wonderful thing about suffering is that it doesn’t leave room for guilt.

Preparation H is for hemorrhoids. I get what the h is for, but don’t you use it after you already have one? So what’s the preparation?

I’ll probably never give blood again. Something about seeing it all there in a bag, it turned my stomach. I mean, it was uncomfortable and I feel worse than usual even a day later, but a sagging sack of plastic filled up with me, I just hate it. I feel spent, spent.

Poor boy! He’s far too mediocre to ever amount too much, but maybe a little, or maybe just enough.

My favorite on the playground always was the swing. Maybe that explains it.

Oasis & the country. Then Tejano, but already I flee.

—-Not it, not it, not it, too late, shotgun.
He slur-mumbles to the security guards about they don’t care.
—-Passions, the next bar (bussiness), expired joke, cover charge.
Jello shots! Buckets! Oh no, there are no more (honey).
—-But the drag show drags on & entertains.
Oh oh, fat & manly triceps draped in culture club dollar bills.
—-Odessa a much more diverse place than we might have thot.
Glow sticks arent straws but portals into the neon kingdom.
—-Kissing the queen, we must do a feature, but it wont happen.
No! Not yet! This isnt the end; it’s not even halfway.
—-Admissions of ravishing experience are best not repeated sober.
(I am corrected subsequently.)
—-No, but you see for me it’s like.
Going home, going home, my morning obligations.
—-Oh shitty monotone music selection–except jazz (thank God)
—-Robocop, unfollowable (take this!), then whut uh berger.
My teeth ache with the rot of unsustainability.
—-These are truly the best days of our lives, that’s why.
Oh, but the purple spots are no numerous!
—-We’re all alcohicks in our privacy.
If only our electric tethers didnt exist (solipsistic fallacy).


—-Dont be so disagreeable, or be yourself, or behave.
He was never so free as when he was dead.
—-I KNOW it’s just flesh covering blood pus & bile, but it’s fleshy,
—-aint it, flush with wine?
What a comfortable couch in insensitive motion.
—-We’re all stuck where we are until we go somewhere else.
Prison, coffin–executive branch (whoosh!)
—-The car alarm never alarms, just irritates & worries.
Keep to the right, except on immigration, then keep on.
—-Ativa, avatar, we’re all possessed by the fleeting.
Nova, fanciful. 24hrs open & emo & diabolical.
—-Good morning beating heart, bated breath, trembling fingers.

I want. I need. But it isn’t the issue. Communicator, this is.

A torn condom wrapper on the Ward County courthouse bench.