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Below are the 12 most recent journal entries recorded in
THAC0's Blurty:
| Monday, April 28th, 2008 | |
| 12:11 am | JAMES MICHAEL-DOUGLAS all this and nothing all this and once maybe for all. we can get the dirt devil and do something about this dust cloud in my head, a black and decker with a past that's checkered. what do you feel about the decor of these rooms? the tornado swings by and busts the doors off their hinges. the window pane rattles as the shutters shudder when the feel me cringing. this isnt a house, it certainly isnt a home and none of us want to live here anymore. its a wash. its a cracked windshield the way this mind works I cant explain high wire hard ware with a hay wire hard stare a total block in the front of my brain focus focus focus focus focus focus focus on the pain. focus on a paragraph, sentence structure creativity and I'm to blame. my weaknesses all exposed half way there like knee high panty hose. and its inexplicable how the details now are on the internet for download. this isn't a house, it certainly isn't a home and you know what they say about doing what you do when in rome. |
| Tuesday, April 1st, 2008 | |
| 3:05 am | HAHAHA OH SHIT that vacuous smile: eyes are something beautiful, if you catch that sort of thing. A color I can't quite recall, except for the neon vacancy signs radiating out of the pupil. Wandering down the halls, everything working out in ways that won't be understood. An excuse is just failure masked by self-pity. As for gems like the one above, its fine. Because a breath in a direction is a death kiss. For all best intentions, a wish list of desires never ending. |
| Wednesday, October 10th, 2007 | |
| 1:47 am | THIS TEXT IS AN ATTEMPT TO GET YOU TO TALK TO ME been strung out. like beta god's cataclysmic iditarod. Explained at length in Testament I. These people are unappreciative, Lazy, and will not repent. Their starry eyed, refusal of reality simply will not relent. Dirty money loves dirty money, Floods and Fires won't wash their bodies clean. They've come prepared. But the omnipotent doesn't test out his powers anymore. Apparently he believes he's worked out the kinks. While we create ways to fight impending disaster, just so we can simply say. if he's there we don't care what he thinks. |
| Wednesday, May 30th, 2007 | |
| 1:55 am | LET ME REDIRECT THAT ASS! www.livejournal.com/users/im_naive |
| Tuesday, January 2nd, 2007 | |
| 2:22 am | THESE BANANA CLIPS DONT LIE Well Well, the media and advertising firms are sitting around waiting for us to lay golden eggs. Lately, though, i've been shitting out stink bombs. theinternet, you know what I mean? we've been here for a minute, maybe two, and we've spent a year here, maybe two. Collective, online time, seventy-two-hundred seconds. I've been kicking it rapid fire on this piece, sending out post after post, like I must be dropping a new release. Well Well, It's new years day, and in philadelphia it's kind of a big deal. I see everyone I don't want to see, have a panic attack on the streets as its perfectly fine to walk around with open alcohol containers. Not sure why thats bothersome to me, not sure why I care. Girls come out of hibernation, and I wish I was in one. I'm awkward, there I said it. Esophagus closes, Eyes swell gravity with a choke hold. Don't really think I'm too bad of a guy I wonder why. This might be too personal, but at this moment I don't really care. I've been shitting out stinkbombs, at least let this one mean something. The chaos of power chords, a message in Braille. If I could read with my fingers Things might be better in here. If we could read with our lips, I might just be a literature aficionado I’d go for anyone now. Well Well, any day now, any day now. Waiting for a future. Maybe I'll do some volunteer work with you. |
| Monday, December 19th, 2005 | |
| 12:23 am | I am verifying my emil Address |
| Monday, December 5th, 2005 | |
| 1:17 am |  (i'll leave you to your own devices) honestly, I am the most special. I don't waste my time on the television screen like my antithesis below. Bravo my dear, time to eat a baseball bat. I avoid DDR like it's a radioactive canister of ooze. Sore-ee 'bout that. I make stomach aches, like your foods of choice. but then again thats the strange thing about poets the most offensive, oh no he didn't - oh yes he did, nuh - uh , uh - huh. Keep you returning. There is lack of humility, humanity and sometimes gravity. Lets just say we're pop culture: If I were Diddy and you were girl cancer. You wouldn't be crying because I was there. It's hard to imagine the source of such references, Unrefereed on theinternet. But motherfuckers don't be confused about my feud. I set that giraffe_on_fire. |
| Tuesday, October 25th, 2005 | |
| 10:22 pm | erefer Let's presuppose every ] is a >, and we'll close every tag, like every door in your life. You seem content to close. [marquee] my life sucks, my life sucks [/marquee] get over it, you don't know excatly how bad people have it, you're too worried about every little neuron in your brain, to the point of misdirection, indescression on your latest malfunction, trite like, "houston we have a problem" run and get the zoloft to solve it. [marquee] remember to close your tags, when you're popping tags. because it's common courtisey. [/marquee] [bold] shut the fuck up [/bold] [underline] and close your tags [/underline] like you're closing the doors in your life. |
| Sunday, October 2nd, 2005 | |
| 10:27 pm | 9 - 8 & 2. Riding Elevators Hurting Equilibriums. It was a strange red summer, not a cruel one, not a bananarama summer jam at 3 AM, manhattened out of your mind, in a manhatten night. I saw that on a napkin, as I washed off my hands. Washing my hands has become more routine than tying the black bags, than tying the white ones. I know who you are. Let me elaborate: Same brown bag lunch every day, You notice if I adjust the picture frames on your desk. I see your face, smiling in them, You don't even know who I am. I come in, with my master key unlock the doors, empty the cans. And learn everything about each and everyone of you. I know you when I pass you, You don't even realize when I am there. A perfect assassin. |
| Sunday, September 25th, 2005 | |
| 11:38 pm | AW SKEET SKEET GODDAMN oh ... alpha five ... i'm barely alive. TYRANNOSAURUS, PTERODACTYL, TRICERATOPS, SABER TOOTH TIGER, MASTODON, Oh that Mastodon. What a Trickster he was, Always with his break dance moves, and hip hop fighting. I guess that's why I always liked him. I liked his sass, I liked when he kicked some ass, I liked when he dropped the axe. Oh that Mastodon, Furry ancestor of the Elephant, frozen in ice. Fighting crime in Angel Grove. Well, or, so I thought. Always with the nostalgia, always with the pointed words and phrases, cannot use words and phrases. But let me tell you. I will ROFL and the way to the goddamn bank -- the blood bank. And when I tell you to stick that shit in your pipe and smoke it. You'd best have lit it first. You'd best have understood where the ire stems from, where the anger dwells. Frozen in a volcano, short of EXIT spells. |
| Friday, September 16th, 2005 | |
| 12:44 am | YOGA AND THE PATH TO SHUTTING THE FUCK UP You can't type. You can't speak. Spell, Think right - yet you're so goddamn happy. You don't get it, do you? You don't get the anticipation, the anxiety, the attacks. Yet I've always just decided everyone is dumb, I am one who is not, I am smart I AM. THURSDAYNIGHT choking myself with jumper cables. Lets see: Red Clamp Positive, Black Clamp yup, thats here too. Pulling from both sides, wishing like many here that I would die. FRIDAYMORNING 12:01, Yeah sike. I'm still alive. I realized the bullshit I see, The bullshit I feel. Regardless, I am alive. I can write, I can speak, I can see, think, eat, sleep bathe. I know what I have, and I accept it. Embrace it. I know what I have, and I know what there is, there are people who have not, So I decided my drama is just miniscule. if Atman is Brahman, Then helping others is just helping myself. The Presidents making promises, because people can't walk on their own floors. They lost pictures of events they cried, had joy at. And you're wasting film on your bloody arms. PRESENT I'm doing the best that I can. |
| 12:43 am | YOGA AND THE PATH TO SHUTTING THE FUCK UP You can't type. You can't speak. Spell, Think right - yet you're so goddamn happy. You don't get it, do you? You don't get the anticipation, the anxiety, the attacks. Yet I've always just decided everyone is dumb, I am one who is not, I am smart I AM. THURSDAYNIGHT choking myself with jumper cables. Lets see: Red Clamp Positive, Black Clamp yup, thats here too. Pulling from both sides, wishing like many here that I would die. FRIDAYMORNING 12:01, Yeah sike. I'm still alive. I realized the bullshit I see, The bullshit I feel. Regardless, I am alive. I can write, I can speak, I can see, think, eat, sleep bathe. I know what I have, and I accept it. Embrace it. I know what I have, and I know what there is, there are people who have not, So I decided my drama is just miniscule. if Atman is Brahman, Then helping others is just helping myself. The Presidents making promises, because people can't walk on their own floors. They lost pictures of events they cried, had joy at. And you're wasting film on your bloody arms. PRESENT I'm doing the best that I can. |