Within you lies the power for good--use it
Jul. 7th, 2003 05:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
philrancidpshah--also within me are monkeys, who will conveniently exit my body by FLYINGOUTMYBUTT! I am so totally not feeling the revelation good groove big happy vibe thing that I had yesterday. Maybe it's becasue I skipped the coffee, maybe I should have fallen down a long flight of steps, but i am totally feeling it today-- nowonmai. nowonmai.
FUCK.
okay. just put that nice nasty f word right on up there by himself, leave him be, let him fester, rot, draw the flies, birth maggots, pulse with unholy decay. Leave it all alone, let it bleed and scream, let the wounds twist into scars that shape themselves into words--telling a tale on wizened skin of inner torment. Play connect the dots with your pores, with a scalpel, a diamond knife, something so sharp that it will split you down to the marrow, to the soul, cut out the pain the life the death the hate the pain the fear the hate hate hate hate pain kill fuc fuck snarl blah blah.
Delana--I found her, and glad am I of this, for the song Slippery Fish, thinks me, is tiptop. Granted, no Kashmir, or Blood Milk and Sky, but definitely very close to them. Must find out where she learned about recording.
Avert your eyes, o potatoes, I cannot take the weight of your stares.
Fucking potatoes.
well, not fucking them, so much as a gesture of defiance, of hate, unbridled fury, rage anger, disdain, and ketchup, towards them. And I don't even like ketchup--or catsup. in fact, the whole tomato is just right out, in my book. the damn things can't even help settle the dabate as to whether they be veggie or fruit--they have to be some grand red spectacle. Grand red spectacles--Elton John in the seventies?
Tomatoes--fuck 'em--but not in the fashion that you would say, fuck a potato. And not that you are copulating with either, even though for some poor women out there sex is basically reduced to that sort of base automotonic function--the male is vegetative, retarded, stupid, inert, vapid, and generally just ickypoo.
I have a lack of caffeine headache, and must away to drink my half-pot, to save my soul.
Juan Valdez save my soul. In the name of the Java, the donkey, and the old padro'n. Yea, though I walk in the valley of the shadow of the druglords, I will fear no heathens. Thy java and caffeine protect me, and in the inky depths am i reunited with this broken thinking meat that is my miswired mind, and am made whole--
well, more or less as i was born, anyway...
FUCK.
okay. just put that nice nasty f word right on up there by himself, leave him be, let him fester, rot, draw the flies, birth maggots, pulse with unholy decay. Leave it all alone, let it bleed and scream, let the wounds twist into scars that shape themselves into words--telling a tale on wizened skin of inner torment. Play connect the dots with your pores, with a scalpel, a diamond knife, something so sharp that it will split you down to the marrow, to the soul, cut out the pain the life the death the hate the pain the fear the hate hate hate hate pain kill fuc fuck snarl blah blah.
Delana--I found her, and glad am I of this, for the song Slippery Fish, thinks me, is tiptop. Granted, no Kashmir, or Blood Milk and Sky, but definitely very close to them. Must find out where she learned about recording.
Avert your eyes, o potatoes, I cannot take the weight of your stares.
Fucking potatoes.
well, not fucking them, so much as a gesture of defiance, of hate, unbridled fury, rage anger, disdain, and ketchup, towards them. And I don't even like ketchup--or catsup. in fact, the whole tomato is just right out, in my book. the damn things can't even help settle the dabate as to whether they be veggie or fruit--they have to be some grand red spectacle. Grand red spectacles--Elton John in the seventies?
Tomatoes--fuck 'em--but not in the fashion that you would say, fuck a potato. And not that you are copulating with either, even though for some poor women out there sex is basically reduced to that sort of base automotonic function--the male is vegetative, retarded, stupid, inert, vapid, and generally just ickypoo.
I have a lack of caffeine headache, and must away to drink my half-pot, to save my soul.
Juan Valdez save my soul. In the name of the Java, the donkey, and the old padro'n. Yea, though I walk in the valley of the shadow of the druglords, I will fear no heathens. Thy java and caffeine protect me, and in the inky depths am i reunited with this broken thinking meat that is my miswired mind, and am made whole--
well, more or less as i was born, anyway...
