Monthly Archives: August 2017


Let me tell you about eggs. I spent 2 months sleeping. I went to bed at 7pm. I’d wake up close to noon, maybe later. I had migranes, never had migranes before. I got them from sleeping. Everybody loves talking about sleep.

When I was out of bed i rode a bicycle. I rebuilt it, speedy red color. I cycled because I needed a reason to get out of bed because of migraines from sleep. I didn’t cycle far, my muscles were getting used to it. I’d be at the pond writing, just so i could spend time somewhere other than in my bed. I tried to get home by bedtime. Aside from suicide this was the best I could disappear from the world.

but eggs. white, brown, organic or not don’t matter. Skillet, Spatula, eggs, skillet, and some milk.

Whisk eggs with milk
pour the eggs into the HOT skillet slowly scrambling simultaneously. It cooks the eggs faster.
Give the eggs a little brownness from the oil
and the milk will have made the eggs really fluffy

Try green onions next time if you liked it. Taking the time to cook a couple of eggs in the morning is my advice to anyone that wanted to try rebuilding their life again. middle-aged, down on cash and don’t have any friends you can think of calling… get the eggs, asshole! We gotta fix you, fast!

Take the time and care to cook some really good looking eggs and then cleaning up before you eat. And that’s how you’re going to rebuild your ship, sailor. Remembering to tidy up the loose things on and around your world, you’d look like you were dancing and fixing your life.

Because I know that world you’re left in, sitting on a plastic lawn chair after turning down suicide. My first thought with the hammer in my hand was, “well, i just spared my own life.” I didn’t know what I was going to do with the hammer anyway. But how do you use a second chance like that. Probably retrieve all the notes. And cook a couple of eggs. I call ’em Pardon Eggs.




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i used to laugh at myself to kinda encourage myself to push on, now my laughter is a rare commodity that i developed a respect for. my jokes strike fear and funny bones and the sense of urgency that followed me around keeps it’s distance

i’ve been slowly getting sicker the last few months. apparently the awesome conversations i have in my head that i play off as potential script dialogue lines to jot down, and split personalities. it was just me and drunk me at first. his name’s gene. then two new roommates moved in. it’s cool cause one’s a girl. the other one is like kramer, but is good at easing tension. i haven’t spoken in a month and that came about by accident! turns out i can hash out a seemingly normal life without saying a damn thing. i keep multiple journals and write. but they conversations are fast, and they don’t pause.

i tried to sing along to a song while i was riding my bike. i have a beautiful girl voice now. quitting drinking made me feel like a pretty girl. but i am so casual with mental meltdowns and identity crisis and morbidity now. i say hi to the women on pornsites before i do the deed.

help is hard to come by because i have to be cold and unfeeling in order to seem gracious. but instead treading carefully, without a word, i just jumped into the fray. the journals, this blog kinda became a journal for em now and then too, is gonna make for the greatest story i don’t think anyone will read. i’m just a cool weapon, baby.

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did the tarpits look like something else or did it come outta nowhere, it trapped alotta animals and stuff kinda like an ice age, this reminds me of that one fiona apple album that’s just overlooked phrases and

you know how you ask your kids if they wanna have farfalla or bowtie macaroni and they just yell, and you act frustrated and exhale in a huff. that’s what the world is like where the wolf that hunted the three pigs came from. none of the wolves set out to hunt pigs, they were targeted because they were different and had stability no matter what we said. we huffed and puffed not outta jealousy, but because we keep our animal side alive. even though it’s at a oldfolks home, yeah our animal carnage salt and peppered secret we saved for a rainy day is held back by our generosity, humility and general good person kindly smiles and hugs and how are yous side. now we’re wolves that eat greens not as a choice, but because we ought to. then again, i’m an old grampy toothless wolf that got paid to rampage when he was younger. i was a freak wolf. i was a your typical wolf in a pack of other paid actor wolves, yeah we covered all the stereotypes, but i always wanted to be more like the piggies. they had their shit figured out, and us bullies had to come out now and then to push em around. turns out, in the long run nobody sees until we’re too blind, it made them smarter, not stronger. and us wolves in wolf county, we don’t know what that means, i didn’t know what it means. when you’re in a pack, you don’t speak for others unless you know it’s your time. time to go, time to talk, nobody really cares. so for me, i couldn’t hide respectin’ pigs lives no more. it meant i had nothing left to hide.

and in any world, when you got nothing left to hide is very different from you’re keeping something. wolves, pigs, if there’s nothing worth hiding, even if it’s quiet respect for the enemy, is when you turn into a real dangerous creature. old wolves and pigs gotta be kept away cause they know it. and pups and piglets say the freakiest things. maybe they was so dangerous from old age, it carried over. so we have this story the tells you to be wary of wolves at all times cause the pigs were the ones paying for the actors am i right?! aaah, i’m just filling in for an old buddy that used to write good stories. he stopped and started writing about personal things. you lose writing props when you bitch, look at my missing teeth, it’s all about the angles. they weren’t missing at all. it’s my first day and i learned killing has different meanings.

so my buddy, hugh, proprietor of this here blog was on multiple soul searches and spiritual journeys and all that sabbatical stuff, he was an old prodigy that learned the game late, didn’t want to play, and was forced to show us why he hated the game. sounds like torture but he had to see it for himself. he wasn’t a pig, wasn’t a wolf, wasn’t a lion or a bear. he was nothing. didn’t even have a real name anymore. samurai type of lifestyle, but still going to the gym and reading about soylent greens when he’s working. he was just some guy, that said alot of effin’ words, lots! but he ended up using his what little he thought of his existence on this plane, and kinda blew it up in our faces. trust when i say, ya had to be there. this guy, that nobody left alive would say a few words for, drew a tear. he’s still alive but a little less than he’d like you to believe because, his words, “kidness doesn’t fucking need an explanation, what fucking year is this! let me get the fucking door ma’am!” he was a 31 year old child with a walking cane. at first, in flattery, then for fun, and last as a kindness.

he knew too early that the show must go on. but why the cast and crew started mixing up and even forgetting all the queues these days… well he chuckled. that’s when i saw his real face. don’t forget the solar eclipse this month, one of us is going home, and one of us is going in. let’s just say the mind over matter stuff is getting sexy hot when you got alotta free time. AND IT SEEMS TALKING OUTTA YOUR BUTT ABOUT OBSCURE SHITE IS JUST A THING WITH THESE LAPTOPS. leave hugh alone, better yet, let him move along as usual. he’s starting to like it. i dunno, i think he’s a more adept learner than i thought. he ain’t the quiet one, he beat up an octupus once and sang love songs as funeral marches. why? he says he doesn’t know, just bits and peaces. some said the trick was to not care, but i dunno i’m just mumbling alot of things and waiting for this song to end, cause i was trying to write to the feel of the song and all i got were obscure catchphrases. well they’re not catchy, but they loop like songs usually do. okay, i’m also light-headed because i did some whip-its. who’s talking anyway?

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spry lil fella

why are you so glum? people out there need an eyesight like yours. not within, or without but one that can see all sides, and you choose to be dark and melodramatic with your perspective. you think there’s a market for it? don’t be dense. you may have stated your last post like it was an expert piece of perspective, but the thing is, everyone already knows it. being called things like ahead of our time or born in the wrong decade can never be applied to us again, and we were the last generation to hear that before it got drowned out. now it’s fixed and hourly. you can go through an entire months’ worth of emotions and the places they’ll take you in less than half an hour these days. you’ll feel empowered for a brief 15 if ya catch it, and can see how your former encouragement leads you right back to where you’re gonna pick it up tomorrow. the one person with an eyesight like yours.

yet, you do it all again the next day, thinking this day, of all days, will be that day. as if you’ve been led into your own booby-trap not being able to tell where it begins and where it ends. thank goodness you have a child legit or not. they get to dance in the wake of your achievements and you don’t know how a necktie works.

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what is it with that feeling, that one that makes you feel like you’re the only one that can do a specific something. 20 years ago, we were on the cutting edge of technology and no one would ever have to worry about the world again. 20 years later, we fell behind who we were meant to be, only to reflect back on what we could’ve become behind a black screen no bigger than a pop-tart. entire lives summed in the palm of your hand. connected with all the people you don’t know personally and living in their shadow. nobody considers the fact they feel inadequate too chasing after shadows on a screen. laptops become ouija boards except this leaves you with a feeling of just checking in with the world as it overlooks your care. check in with pictures, check in check in check in. thumbs up something, anything so we know you’re okay. we laugh at the poor fella that doesn’t know what a snapchat is but can see everyone becoming a suction cup on a tentacle. it’s okay to be alone except for when it wasn’t and we went out to remedy that. and we went out just now to that place we should all meet up at just to say we were there. now, increasingly, it matters not if you were. just suction cups rolling with the wave of the tentacle you classify with. all the songs sound the same.

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