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Sunday, February 26th, 2006
7:59 pm - Don Knotts forever!
Don Knotts, light of my life, died today. I'd wear black in mourning if that wasn't already the only color I wear. Maybe I'll wear green instead. Yeah, that sounds more appropriate.
Everyone watch The Ghost and Mr. Chicken, and any episode of Three's Company you can lay yer grubby hands on.

We miss you Don!

(read some Salinger)

Sunday, January 8th, 2006
2:08 am - Der Stab wird Himmel genannt.
All signs and omens point toward an interesting year. I hope it will trump every other year of my life in excitement, oddity and happiness. New Years Eve was quite nice. It involved Bernie's, rock and/or roll, drugs, champagne, dancing, random people, odd dramatics, makeup layers and high heels, and the second time in recorded history that I have enjoyed playing cards. Also in contrast to last year, I now have 2 jobs. Oh, and I'm actually doing school work. My common sense has been on the fritz for a while, but is returning in fits and gasps. I always come back to my senses eventually.

you start a conversation
you can't even finish
you're talking a lot, but you're not saying anything
when I have nothing to say
my lips are sealed
say something once, why say it again?

(read some Salinger)

Wednesday, October 5th, 2005
2:32 am - well that was pointless

LJ Interests meme results

  1. david bowie incarnations:
    Let's see, there's Ziggy Stardust Bowie, The Thin White Duke Bowie, Diamond Dogs Bowie, Goblin King Bowie, fucking Tin Machine Bowie, Trent Reznor Licks My Boots Bowie, Boning Mick Jagger In The Streets Bowie....etc. Sweet QE2 I love David Bowie.
  2. eating beef brisket:
    I do this very rarely.
  3. imagist poetry:
    Ezra Pound, James Joyce, William Carlos Williams...all sweet. D.H. Lawrence, not so much.
  4. land of the giants:
    A late 60's tv show in which a group of people somehow become really fucking tiny and fight bugs with needles.
  5. megadeth:
    Megadeth is excellent. I have Countdown to Extinction on cassette. Megadeth will own you!
  6. not smoking resin:
    I'll gladly do this, but I'd rather just have some real pot.
  7. psychotropic addiction:
    A psychotropic is probably not the best thing to be addicted to.
  8. stabbing david blaine:
    I'll get you, you smug magical shit.
  9. the mudshark:
    My mind drifts back to a meeting, a chance meeting in the Chicago O'Hare Airport where the members of the Vanilla Fudge told Don Preston about a home movie they made at the Edgewater Inn with a Mud Shark. I'm gonna tell you, this dance, the Mud Shark, is sweeping the ocean!...

    The Mothers Of Invention: Live at the Fillmore East has to be my favorite album right now.
  10. zounds!:
    An exclamation! Brilliant!

Enter your LJ user name, and 10 interests will be selected from your interest list.

(read some Salinger)

Saturday, September 3rd, 2005
1:28 pm - Extra! Suzie writes poem, millions of literati develop mysterious brain tumors.
o, craft me a wreath
of authentic human hair
and put a fucking bow on it for god's sake
we are not barbarians
and incessant tea parties
are the way of the civilized person
of the royals
the unhappy figureheads
trapped in a sprawling palace
obviously constructed by
syphalitic architects
in the blood-spitting stages of madness
craft me a wreath
make certain it's festive
and lacking in stray bits of scalp
i aim for subtle morbidity
not grotesqueries
excluding the human hand in the jar
nothing else looks appropriate
on my mantlepiece

(read some Salinger)

Monday, August 15th, 2005
11:20 pm
As the Mayor of Drugachussettes, I declare this pizza to be....AWESOME!!!!

(3 assassination attempts |read some Salinger)

Sunday, August 14th, 2005
6:37 pm - cockrings, cockrings, cockrings.
I won't go into the details of what eventually happened to my legs. This is partly because I don't recall much about the last week, and mostly because I haven't the energy to greatly exagerrate events into an interesting and cohesive story.
In any case, my new aluminum stick-legs are working out well. They came with screw-on shoe attatchments. I also have a bitchin' cane. Always wanted a reason to own a cane. I must aquire one with a sword in the handle in order to indulge my John Steed/British dandy secret agent fantasies.
One side effect of taking these intensely satisfying black market tranquilizers appears to be an abundance of run-on sentences. The pharmacist in the alley neglected to inform me of this.
As expected, I've been having vivid dreams about walking, running, kicking stuff, etc. All the psychiatric vampires were right. Fucking Jungian bores. My dreams mean nothing and I'd like to keep it that way.
So much grey area, so much time to be utterly confused by it.
Say Goodnight Suzie.....

...nah, I won't say it. It's simply not that clever.

(read some Salinger)

Tuesday, August 9th, 2005
1:28 am - Are legs diswasher safe?
I loathe police and authorities of any sort, and that includes mall security. Therefore, after taking three and a half hours drag my torso to the phone, I rang my friend who is in the business of fixing things. For privacy's sake I will call him "Gerardo".
In five minutes he arrived. Ten minutes after that he was cleaning up nervous vomit from the corner of the living room. Half an hour passed before he found my legs in the dishwasher. We discovered that Jack the Gipper had shaved them and clad my bloodless feet in pink, patent-leather pumps.
When I came to, Gerardo put my unusually attractive severed legs in a trashbag and hauled me to his car. The sun rose, a mangled red egg in the sky.
At some point, I drank three-quarters of a bottle of tequila.

(read some Salinger)

Monday, August 8th, 2005
12:25 am - Suzie Cream Cheese on waking up without legs
Early this morning I awoke, only to discover that my legs had been amputated by a mysterious surgeon sometime in the night. The hypodermics littering the sheets told me that I had been sedated and anesthetized. The autographed headshot of Robert Goulet on my nightstand was not in its rightful place, which somehow disturbed me more than the abduction of my limbs. A dull throb ate away at my brain, but my stumps were numb. Bloodloss appeared minimal, hospital quality cauterization. Someone really knew their shit.
I was oddly calm, the sun leaking through the blinds was warm. No point in moving about, especially since the cat had decided to lick the charred flesh on my right leg. Suddenly I wished my surreptitious elf-doctors had left a little something in one of the hypos. My eyes rolled back into my head to stare at my skull for a bit.
Oh my little darlings, listen to Miss Suzie when she tells you...
If you wake up without legs, just go right back to sleep.

(read some Salinger)

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