This is like the first post I've made on a real live computer in a public place, with a keyboard. Let me look around, see if it's safe. I feel like one of those screenwriters at a Starbucks in Toluca Lake.
- One big difference there, buddy.
Shut up. Anyway, my social experiment didn't work. All I'll say about that, in the words of a wise man, "Last thing I need is new material."
A real person once said to me, "I realized I had to protect her from my insanity." I guess that applies, too. Look, I thought maybe if someone from here looked over there, it would be like the pick of the day, a treat, a tribute to here! Anyway, I wanted to save a couple status updates.
Let me tell you something—sit down. No, sit over here. You have a set of three keys. Why the fuck would I mean, "Three sets of keys?" You don't even know what I'm about to say. No, sit over here. You have a set of three identical keys, see? For one lock, get it? No, they're not identical—they're identical. That's, what, your chances of getting it on the first try? Three to one? That's a fraction; I eat fractions. So, what, you have a—I don't need to download the app: it's .33. I got it memorized. No big deal. It's just a number. Well, guess what? That's bullshit. It means shit. Because when you put the first key in, it's going to be wrong. The second, wrong also. Fuck this world. And if you're lucky, and you don't mess up the order, you may finally get in the house before the icicle melts. Shut up! So I can throw it in my root beer, that's why. I don't need a calculator to show me the facts of life, Chief. Might as well not even try the first two keys, and just bang your head on the door for awhile. Try it, the same thing will happen every time; and—let me tell you something—if you get the right key on the first try, then you're a part of the conspiracy the Universe has against—Hey, where are you going? Hey! I'll kill you...
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I've been having dreams about people who were in my life who are no longer in my life. I've grown disgruntled over my difficulty to sleep, an unconscious action most people take for granted. They don't realize they are at the mercy of their brain; they think as long as they remember their lottery numbers, they'll be all right. I went to the 7-11 to have some coffee, I had assumed, but there was no parking. The designated spots were all full. It was clear as day, that the... designated spots were all full. I pulled in front of the taco joint next door. There was no doubt in my mind that there were Mexicans inside. 30 minutes for parking—that should give me enough time. I walked in, real horrorshow; there were tacos all over the place. I said to the girl, give me beans and corn. She said do you want anything else? I said like what, a taco? She said how 'bout a sweet little taquito. I said you're sweet, give me my beans and corn. She charged me for two side dishes and I paid for it. It was no problem—I have it. After I ate it I had eaten it. I got up and asked for more beans and corn. She said you want more? I said if there are any flies on you, they're paying rent. She said I'm going to have to charge you for another two side dishes. I threw a crumpled ten dollar on the counter. Before she could act, I said beans and corn. She asked if I didn't even want my change—I said the beans and corn.
- One big difference there, buddy.
Shut up. Anyway, my social experiment didn't work. All I'll say about that, in the words of a wise man, "Last thing I need is new material."
A real person once said to me, "I realized I had to protect her from my insanity." I guess that applies, too. Look, I thought maybe if someone from here looked over there, it would be like the pick of the day, a treat, a tribute to here! Anyway, I wanted to save a couple status updates.
Let me tell you something—sit down. No, sit over here. You have a set of three keys. Why the fuck would I mean, "Three sets of keys?" You don't even know what I'm about to say. No, sit over here. You have a set of three identical keys, see? For one lock, get it? No, they're not identical—they're identical. That's, what, your chances of getting it on the first try? Three to one? That's a fraction; I eat fractions. So, what, you have a—I don't need to download the app: it's .33. I got it memorized. No big deal. It's just a number. Well, guess what? That's bullshit. It means shit. Because when you put the first key in, it's going to be wrong. The second, wrong also. Fuck this world. And if you're lucky, and you don't mess up the order, you may finally get in the house before the icicle melts. Shut up! So I can throw it in my root beer, that's why. I don't need a calculator to show me the facts of life, Chief. Might as well not even try the first two keys, and just bang your head on the door for awhile. Try it, the same thing will happen every time; and—let me tell you something—if you get the right key on the first try, then you're a part of the conspiracy the Universe has against—Hey, where are you going? Hey! I'll kill you...
---
I've been having dreams about people who were in my life who are no longer in my life. I've grown disgruntled over my difficulty to sleep, an unconscious action most people take for granted. They don't realize they are at the mercy of their brain; they think as long as they remember their lottery numbers, they'll be all right. I went to the 7-11 to have some coffee, I had assumed, but there was no parking. The designated spots were all full. It was clear as day, that the... designated spots were all full. I pulled in front of the taco joint next door. There was no doubt in my mind that there were Mexicans inside. 30 minutes for parking—that should give me enough time. I walked in, real horrorshow; there were tacos all over the place. I said to the girl, give me beans and corn. She said do you want anything else? I said like what, a taco? She said how 'bout a sweet little taquito. I said you're sweet, give me my beans and corn. She charged me for two side dishes and I paid for it. It was no problem—I have it. After I ate it I had eaten it. I got up and asked for more beans and corn. She said you want more? I said if there are any flies on you, they're paying rent. She said I'm going to have to charge you for another two side dishes. I threw a crumpled ten dollar on the counter. Before she could act, I said beans and corn. She asked if I didn't even want my change—I said the beans and corn.
The crumpled ten dollar bill sat on the counter like a petty, impotent, spiteful little man. She watched me devour my beans and corn. I would stare at her like a child while I wiped my mouth, then I would go back to ferociously consuming my dish. The corn needed salt but I didn't care; the beans had no flavor and I'm still there.
---
Look. Shut up. I'm talking now.
Don't you hate when people think they can keep talking when you want to interrupt them? I know, right? How many knives can I stick in you?
The people at the YMCA think I'm crazy. I'm not crazy; I'm just aware that they think I'm crazy.
Moreover, I know I haven't killed a million people. That is less people than someone who has killed a lot of people. I know about thirty-six people. The dumbest people are the ones who don't know that they're dumb. Come, let's meet on Victory and Lankershim for a couple tacos. Do you know what those are? I'm riding my bicycle. They're two flaps of corn tortilla—they're not big, I mean they're not the size of you're head—with meat atop. You put some onion on it, sell it for a dollar—faggedabodid. People will eat it. If they're hungry enough, they'll eat it, no question about that. Now, do you have a bicycle lock? I'm going to ride by your house. If you're not home, I'll just tell your dad you set aside a bicycle lock for me.
---
Hey guys, the accident's on the other side of the freeway. Just wanted to remind you. No need to get out and discuss it with your next door vehicle. Ah, don't offer him the gum! Ah, he's fumbling with it!
Yea, hi how are you? Yea, I sees it too. No, it's okay; I'll just stay in here.
If I relapse, I'll be back, you can bet. Someone's teaching me to be more careful with my words, how do you make an em-dash on this thing, oh can't talk too loud in here: for example, the importance of utilizing the past tense when speaking about things I've done in the past, the danger of speaking in absolutes, shit like that em dash I dunno, sometimes my mind would wander off.
Lastly, my loves, we have to part again. No more checking pageviews. I just can't handle it! Instead of charging emotions based on perceived reactions or indifference—or the indifference of the fuckin sea she has!—I think I can free up my subconscious to develop some new material.
---
Look. Shut up. I'm talking now.
Don't you hate when people think they can keep talking when you want to interrupt them? I know, right? How many knives can I stick in you?
The people at the YMCA think I'm crazy. I'm not crazy; I'm just aware that they think I'm crazy.
Moreover, I know I haven't killed a million people. That is less people than someone who has killed a lot of people. I know about thirty-six people. The dumbest people are the ones who don't know that they're dumb. Come, let's meet on Victory and Lankershim for a couple tacos. Do you know what those are? I'm riding my bicycle. They're two flaps of corn tortilla—they're not big, I mean they're not the size of you're head—with meat atop. You put some onion on it, sell it for a dollar—faggedabodid. People will eat it. If they're hungry enough, they'll eat it, no question about that. Now, do you have a bicycle lock? I'm going to ride by your house. If you're not home, I'll just tell your dad you set aside a bicycle lock for me.
---
Hey guys, the accident's on the other side of the freeway. Just wanted to remind you. No need to get out and discuss it with your next door vehicle. Ah, don't offer him the gum! Ah, he's fumbling with it!
Yea, hi how are you? Yea, I sees it too. No, it's okay; I'll just stay in here.
If I relapse, I'll be back, you can bet. Someone's teaching me to be more careful with my words, how do you make an em-dash on this thing, oh can't talk too loud in here: for example, the importance of utilizing the past tense when speaking about things I've done in the past, the danger of speaking in absolutes, shit like that em dash I dunno, sometimes my mind would wander off.
Lastly, my loves, we have to part again. No more checking pageviews. I just can't handle it! Instead of charging emotions based on perceived reactions or indifference—or the indifference of the fuckin sea she has!—I think I can free up my subconscious to develop some new material.
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