11.17.10
Do you ever have days where your teeth hurt?
For shit’s n giggles, gonna change the formula, my teeth hurt, curt I twirl on a pencil tip, dancing with animal flies. Corn and peas in my rice, spiced
wtih tumeric and ginger.’
Finger green vegan jello.
Is there such a thing as vegan green jello?
Donno.
Don’t care, wouldn’t share it with you,
any way.
Maybe my teeth wouldn’t hurt so much if I didn’t eat
so much chocolate.
Don’t look at me like that, it’s a fact, I
don’t get laid much.
Well not at all.
Whos fault,
is it any way?
Me not getting laid, and sore teeth.
Could be the grinding I do at night,
despite all the relaxtion and meditation, I do.
Don’t seem to
do much to reduce smooth surfaced back molars.
Heritiary?
Maybe.
Hillary?
Naw, she’s some crazy bitch dressed in a nice suted for the Xfiles.
Mulder and Scully... funny,
at the Pantagon, mad for pink puddles, tie dyed camoflased kaki under shirts.
Yellow head phoning Russian for some Vodka.
Potato juice, fuck Beetle Juice, he was just an asshole.
Hey yea know
my brain don’t hurt, but my teeth do.
Things seem to be smoothing finely ground pieces slipping through,
my fingers smelling like ginger.
The past week has been a sneak into what I should expect when I get old.
Cold and stupid, wearing diapers, fencing with windshield wipers.
Gonna need them when it hits the fan, in an iron pan.
Gas stove left on, exploding apple, and pears, I can’t hear.
Cause I’m deaf.
But a debate on who fault it is I was born, with corn in my peas and rice.
Dice with stupid tiny, microscopic dots, I’m supposed to be able to read.
Took some speed, hitting a stop sign at mach four, world tour around, a frozen pond.
Sing song, sucking on king kong right index finger nail, which is lodged in the middle of a peaches pit.
Leaking cyanide and peace signs, along highway sixty nine.
My brain doesn’t hurts so much today, strange the past four days, where painful.
Fits and starts, self doubt, about this project, of writing, not biting into shallow pools in.
Twisted consciousness.
Tough it is to write every day, and keep it interesting, even for me.
Pity the sucker, who reads this shit, I’d rather jump ship in the
middle of the Pacific, and hit a dolphins on it’s left fin, a garbage bin.
Full of eye ball peels, onion skin paper with scripted text for day time drama, actors.
Dip sticks and shit line the walls of the asylum, bend over backward into apple sauce, guitar wizards cast spelling bees.
Stinging points penetrate, frustrate, people politics, involved with in internal biopsies, wearing biceps,thick glasses miopic civic vision.
Division with in red and grey stripped shirts, white collars, basemented fruit cellars.
What a fella to have ignored my advancement into worlds of mathematical..... gawd I’m repeating myself.
Fuck.
This is like a long term relationship, sinking ship.
Going to indulge in plagiarism donated by Thunder Bat.
this is to make you rethink using my terrible paper:
The geology of Mt. McKay has developed a mesa comprised of two diaries. Big and small, thick and thin silly with a layer of grey-black, iron rich shale chaps. Known as the gunflint formation or ass slapping chafting but crack while thrusting into a great void called pink granite.
Or was it corn?
Scorn, for lorn, born, storm?
What where we talking about?
The geology of Mt. McKay has developed a mesa comprised by sporting bras, safety words to ensure every element of two diaries, black and blue, you, me will not be harmed. Sills with a layer of grey-black, some times pleather with iron rich studs, bitches and pimps pushing shale known as the gunflint or semi automatic gunfire. Military formation, between each sill can really suck, unless the person knows what he or she is doing, hitting right spot at the right time with the right amount of pressure. Land mines are much worse, exploding masses full of yesterdays cold oatmeal can be disgusting. All though for some it can be quit a turn on, depending on the environment, weather conditions, and geographical location. Diaries of this nature are rare and hard to find. Keep in mind an iron-rich igneous rock, which erodes,oil worshippers much more slowly when no lube is used. Make sure you do cause the surrounding strata will give way to resistance. Allowing for more deviant behavior to persist creating an atmosphere where toe curling orgasms are nonexistent for the rest of your life.
Subsequent layers of rock were eroded, which in some schools of thought, it wasn’t all that bad because it exposed the sports bra which repressed forms in the mountain better know as a really good set of tits. Communities located on the lower sill are founded on thick, rich soil that has been able to develop, rather than percolate between rock and a hard place or hard on, as it does in the gunflint shale, gun fire, and or shrapnel. The flush community, richly labeled as pubic crabs, which Mr. Important science guy has detailed, due multiple infections. (He should have known better, fucking sheep after sun set is a sure fire way to get them. Every one knows fucking sheep at high noon is the safest time, due to such perversity prefers darkness and chameleons ) is located on a sill, while the north-facing talus site is on a gunflint slope, bombards the village of the south with jelly filled donuts, stale cookies and poorly made mac and cheese.
You can imagine the irritation of the community below experiencing under cooked marconi and cold coagulated cheese as some what inconvenient and unnecessary. In retaliation, it is believed they had many town council meetings, spent countless tax dollars to study their assailant physiological state of mind in order to understand and reason with them. Maybe draw up a peace treaty, even though the southerners had no idea why the northerners would chuck such culinary insults at them. This went on for at least a year or two, the streets where clogged , every window in every building was broken and stained shit loads of stale jelly filled donuts torpedoed through the atmosphere, propelled by a catapult. As one can understand was a complete piss off.
Granite aint got nothing on stale chocolate chip cookies, those fuckers cut through concrete like a hot knife through frozen horse shit.
The town was in shambles.
Now here is where things got really interesting.
Even though, the town was in the shitter, the northerners where deviants and perverts, not to mention, psychologically fucked. This is an assumption due to the southerners have sent intelligence agents, known as S.S.P. Southern Smarty Pants. Never came back or if they did they where permanently damaged or obsessed with masturbation.
Of course this just reenforced the southern paranoia to the point of hysteria.
Money started to be funneled from the social system, (which was world known for it’s universal health care, education for all, affordable housing, food and clothing and day care assistance) toward weapon development to fling the crap the insane northerners where chucking at them.
Now here is where it get very exciting, the window repair guys and gals where loving the incessant down pour of stale pastries. Business was booming, never before had a window repair person or cleaner afford a high end strap on with a built in surround sound high definition camcorder for those intimate and special moments (brought to you by Porno Electronics)
Every scientist, philosopher, engineer had a job, and a damm good paying one at that.
The media was loving it, there was always something to report, with color, flourish and patriotism. Citizens of the south ate it up like fancy expensive mac and cheese that came in much smaller boxes at twice the price.
Two years went by and the south shot back.
Dried up used condoms, rolls of the roughest toilet paper, yesterday’s underpants and the most unfortunate set of salt and pepper shakers any one could imagine.
The north was stunned, shocked and confused.
They had no idea what the south’s problem was.
They stopped their assault of stale pastries.
In the silence, over a blown amp, a northerner asked
What the fuck?
In reply the south shot the idiot in the head with an over cooked ham roast.
Well holy fuck if the north wasn’t pissed. Every one knows ham roasts are always chucked with candied apples.
Millions of dollars later, and millions of pounds of stale pastries, condoms, ruff toilet paper and over cooked ham roasts. The two countries continue their self indulgent food fight for no other reason for the fact it gives them something to do.
Makes them money and keeps life interesting.
So there hows that for a botching of a once well written, term paper that
you dared me to use Miss Thunder Bat.
Stick with me and you’ll go far.
Seriously.
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