morning coffee break

god, i hate that. every time i sit down to use my computer, if i start talking to someone, there goes my computer time and all my thoughts. why can't people stay the fuck away from me. i have limited time every day to do simple things as it is. fucking, i only get a few hours each break at the library, or i have to miss a meal. breakfast eight am, then library at ten, then lunch at one, then dinner at four, then another dinner at eight, and only two or three hours of library time between those meals... you keep my daily schedule fucked, and rip my choices away from me. any place you'll give me to live, i have to clean up after other people, and i don't do that. i give a fuck about other people, i only clean up after myself. fuck your chores, i never worked for you, you were never my mother, and you've never done a fucking thing for me to warrant that favour. keep your priorities out of my agenda, you greedy fucks. stop raping my time with your shit. get the fuck out of my life and stop telling me what to do. stop making me compromise where you never would. stop leaving me so few options, and then setting up roadblocks and barracades between those. you fuck poor people every chance you get, and it doesn't even really benefit you. that's more than just greed, that's just stupid. it's time you and your wallet take a fuckin' hike. and i'm fucking sick of this slow ass computer. i walked into best buy on cyber monday, slapped down four hundred fuckin' bucks, and asked for speed. this is what the bitch sold me. they were hilariously understaffed that day, had no clue what they were talking about or selling, their prices were fucked... i should have been able to get speed for four hundred bucks, especially when i was intentionally cheaping it on everything else, especially hard drive space. you can't even make laptops to meat their own minimal requirements to run. that means you're greedy, you don't know shit about computers, and someone else would be better suited for that job. speaking of suits, i need to design mine. where's jasper. or jarvis. whatever the fuck his name is. newton. that's what i want to name my actual digital buddy. name him after my dead cat that my family stole from me and killed. newton. i miss you, buddy. i'm so sorry i let that happen to you. you fuckers stole my kids, my cat, my car, my computer, my wife. payback's gonna be a bitch this time around. i may have inherited hitler's karma for the first part of this fucked up life, but you're about to find out why. get a fuckin' helmet.

another wasted day

and it's all my fault.

this is already turning into a horrible fucking day. in the shelter, i don't know why i was so deep asleep, or what, but the dude decided to wake me up when i was the last one left in the room, and had ten minutes to get up and get out. thanks, asshole. then, i tried asking him where a trash can was, and couldn't get an answer out of him that was loud enuph to hear. i left the shelter, skipped breakfast, and hopped on a bus for free, to come all the way up to university district, to the urban rest stop to get my laundry done, and get these bed bugs out of my clothes finally. i've only been able to bum two cigarettes so far this morning, i'm being ignored noticably moreso than before, i'm starving, and fucking sober. i sit there waiting for them to open. the stupid girl comes out, and starts signing everyone else up first. i tell her, i desperately need my laundry done today. the word desperate doesn't affect these people at all. she says 'i have to sign everyone else up first, but i'll get back to you'. she comes back, and says 'we don't have any places for you today'. i couldn't hold back my anger, so i screamed at her, 'waste my fucking time!', and got up and walked away. wasted my whole fucking day, that was supposed to be my friday, was laundry and friday feast like i did the first time. now i have to deal with bugs in my clothes for another week. then, watch me come back next week, and they say 'you can't be here'. you cannot deny homeless people their resources!

so i came up to the library in the university, and i'm sitting here using their ethernet. i don't know what else i can do today. i might as well just go back downtown. you fucks truly do not realize how much time you waste in people's lives. how much effort. how much pain you cause. how much misery. you just don't fucking know. there's no way you'll ever get it. and that's fucking sad. it's not a good thing.

another option, is i can sit here all day till i find someone online who will talk to me and help me. i don't see that working.

i hate this fucking city already, i hate the greedy, selfish, stingy fucking people here. i want to leave. i don't like the weather... i don't really like any of it. i haven't had a good moment since i've been here. i might as well just go elsewhere and try again. this is stupid. and why try to get an apartment in such an expensive city. just because i want to pursue my talents. i'd rather just move to a small cheap town and disappear for a while at this point. i fucking hate not having any options, having all my choices raped away from me. you humans are something fucking else. if you can't successfully help one person... what fucking good are you.

you aren't worth shit in my eyes. you aren't worth the dollar that controls you.

my lungs won't shut up, my snot won't leave me alone...

i honestly feel like i'm losing my heart. i'm filled with so much hatred, i don't feel right.

i just don't feel like myself anymore. i don't like myself. because i can't find anyone else to like me. i'm either going to start killing people soon, or kill myself.

but i cannot take this pressure anymore, this chaos is getting too out of control, and i can't handle what's happening. i can't stand to see what my eyes are seeing. it's just too painful.

someone please help me. just get me out of this situation, and we'll work it out later.

i might as well just go back downtown and get the free meals, and have nowhere to get online. i fucking hate this shit. the people responsible for putting me in this position deserve to die. that's all there is too it. and if it comes to the point where i need to just start killing everyone that approaches me until people stop coming at me with violence and realize what they did wrong in the first place to push me to this... well... i don't know. i really don't want that. but i feel it coming. every day, they try harder to push me to that. every day gets worse, not better. no matter how much hope i can muster, it goes south quick.

my music doesn't help much anymore, cause i rarely get to hear any. movies, i don't get to watch. pot doesn't help. cigarettes cause more stress than they relieve lately. especially trying to light one when the wind is blowing. all i wanted to do, that would have made me happy, was touch a hot girl, stay stoned, have my music in some sensable order, and maybe have somewhere to stay out of the weather. and not have to walk all day every day. i just wanted to touch one of you ladies. i don't know how my life came to this. i once had so many hopes and dreams. but you relentlessly destroyed every fucking one of them. i never wanted that. what did i do to you fucks to deserve this. who's karma did i inherit, hitler's?

i really don't understand what's going on here. i once had potential. i could have been anything. now, i honestly feel like i'm just going to end up like elliot rodger. making another small dent before it's all over. a puff of smoke in a burning city. nuthing.

does it matter to anyone else on this planet, what i wanted that i never got, and what i got that i never wanted. i can't even talk to my wife. she still hates me.

do you do this to everyone that doesn't fit in your mold, is this what happens to other lives that try to make it. you rip their children away from them, and push them out of society until they snap and destroy something. is this how you treat everyone who's not as good as you. but if you're too stupid to see that i'm better than you... where does that get us.

i'm truly curious. how do i get out of this situation. how do i save this. how do i salvage what little i have left.

your reality is way too insane for me. this town is skidding off the tracks worse than tucson. or maybe stuck in the same stagnant state of refusing to change. i don't know. i had hoped seattle would be openminded and friendly. hempfest was fun, but... those people aren't the same people on the streets. their smiles disappear.

i can't do this. i really thought i could. i hoped i could. and i fucking tried. even though you consistently say i haven't. i don't know why it's any of your business to say what i've succeeded at or not. why do you only give a shit about what a failure you think i am, and not what a success i could be if you looked at me with a smile instead of hatred.

when will anyone hear this, and actually react. does it matter to anyone. does one person matter to the rest of people. if not, something's very wrong here.

if the rest of you can't give a fuck about one person... what good are you. what are you worth. do you even care. do you think you should care. will anyone ever answer.

will i ever get to touch a lady again.
will i ever make another friend.
will anyone ever care about me again.
or will i just plow into the end.

i wanted to like you people. i wanted to be your friend. but i was never good enuph for you.

but never consider you were never up to my standards. perhaps that's why it came to this.

i've lost too much i can't get back. too much irrepairable damage done to me.

and all this because some bitch wasted my fucking time this morning. you treat all homeless people equally, when you shouldn't. and at the same time, there is no equality.

incase some of you out there don't have internet, and can't get to thesaurus.com...

capitalism does not translate to equality.

my heart is broken. thank you all.

goodbye hopes. goodbye dreams. goodbye motivation, ambition, talent...

i'll miss the potential i once had. i could have done anything. i could have rocked this boat.

but you'd rather hear beiber say nuthing. you'd rather stay the same forever.

and i can't do that. i can't be here with you. i can't share this life with more assholes. or i'm gonna start killing them. i'm screaming out for help. crying out for help. and all you hear is wolves howling, cause the boy is already dead.

so thanks, you fucking cunt, for wasting my fucking day. for destroying my plans yet again.

i can't stomach your failures, yet all you can seem to tell me, is where you think i've failed.

i could tell you over and over that your opinions don't mean shit to me, but you'd still force them on me anyway. and that's perfectly okay, you're justified because you're cloned. i bet it's nice to have someone back you up. i've never had that.

you'll never claim any responsibility for any of this, and you'll never change. you'll never see what you've done wrong. and i guarantee you, this world will get worse.

all because you're never wrong. people who think they're never wrong, are always wrong. it doesn't matter what you say, or do, or choose, at that point, you're just wrong. always will be. i don't give a shit how you'd like to debate that, i'm not listening. tell me how it feels to be ignored.

so, i've got no idea what to do right now. i need to sit here and space out till i can think of something. people direct me to so many resources, but i get their, and their resources fail me every time. or just plain kick me out like i'm not even good enuph to be homeless.

i fucking hate you. and i can't get your attention to tell you that.

i can't get your attention to tell you that i really wanted to love you, either.

there's no love here. there's rich plastic assholes with their perfect hot slut trophy girlfriends and wives, and i'm not allowed to have mine. and you don't think you're selfish.

people call me controlling, but if you control my life so much, and suffocate me, and shred every hope of having what you have, or what i need... and you're not controlling? that's not controlling? okay, then how do you define controlling. i don't even get to see the faces of the people most responsible for this fiasco called life. you get to have a good time, but i just can't. you can't even afford to squeeze a reason out of those tight lips.

you just don't care enuph. but there's nothing wrong with you, and everything's wrong with me, and i'm to blame for everything you've done to put this world in this state. okay.

that makes alot of sense. let me get freud's opinion. survey says... just start shooting.

nothing is ever your fault. you're flawless, and that's why you get to participate in life.

and that's fair. we're equal. and we're certainly allowed to use/misuse/preach those words.

fuck it. let's see how bad this can get before it's over. let's see what you've got.

lunch under the bridge at one pm. it's ten now. dinner at four. shelter at seven.

why do you have to be so strict toward people who can't possibly comply.

whatever reason you think there is, there's no reason, no excuse, and you need to realize that.

you're destroying lives. and getting away with it because of higher negligence.

irresponsibility. yet you're the preacher of responsibility. and you're never wrong.

why would i stick around to be your friend. or even to get my way. what would it matter.

fuck it. i'll head down to lunch after a movie. and i have to come up with a new pw.

if i weren't so numb, i would want to cry, but... what's the point. you'd just point and laff.

nice heart, asshole, where'd you get it, ebay?

i'm done. i can't even think anymore. my head is too fucked.

i just wanted to touch you. is that so wrong. compared to how wrong you are.

bugs crawling on my skin.

exclusion, degradation, and too much authority

i had to write this today for the library. i don't feel like explaining much more right now, i just wanted it posted here.

...
okay. where do i start.

song playing: tiny dancer, by elton john.

first of all, please allow me to speak freely, as an adult would do, because i'm an artist who doesn't hold back, and it offends me to be censored. can we just agree on that for a moment, to get it out of the way?

first required explanation: i hate people. i have severe people issues. i have a serious problem with authority. you don't need such overbearing authority and abuse of power in a library. need i remind you all: it's a library. not a prison, or a bank, or a university... it's a fucking library. open to the public. i need to repeat that. open to the public. i also hate money. possibly more than i hate humanity, but i'll get a calculator later. haha, that sounded funny. so please keep this piece of information in mind when reading the rest of this. i'm not among you. i'm basically a warhead dreamer hellbent on utopia now. not youtubia. with special guest beiber timberfake and the bed bugs. this is what i think humanity could be doing at this very moment, and my third eye actually sees it when i close these two useless eyes that lock me in a prison of reality. humanity could be uniting as a collective, sprouting third eyes, turning on the universal light, growing into tentacles that can absorb consciousness from the universe into the earth to evolve and heal it. you can call me crazy, but i'll just have my psychiatrist prove you wrong in a court of law. if you really want to play that game. but that being said, i'll go ahead and play along with your little concrete reality game for a minute.

when i go into that library, i go strictly to use the resources, not to socialize. why would an antisocial person do that. i once even had a therapist try and tell me, 'i don't think you're antisocial, i think you're just asocial'. too bad you can't type a really pompous laff. but anyway. i just want to point out, that i do not like talking to people. i only do it because my idiot family was so damn good at it. they were a genetic turd circus without a clue. i'm lucky to be away from them, finally trying to rebuild the life that they destroyed. yet they claim no responsibility. no one ever does. except fuckin' al qaeda. however the fuck you spell it. i hate that, you always hear about 'there was a terrorist bombing on some building, and al qaeda claims responsibility', but why can't anyone claim responsibility for destroying my life. perhaps they're irresponsible? not as responsible as they claim to be? i don't know, we'll get to that later.

song playing now: celestial furnace, by disarmonia mundi (italian melodic death metal, incase you need to look it up).

and i'm not even blowing up any buildings, go figure. i must have inherited hitler's karma, or something, cause otherwise, there's no excuse for this concrete reality destroying my life at every turn. excuses, authority, money, and concrete. and people.

like a tumour in my eye.

anyway. i was originally excluded because i was 'smoking pot on library property'. now, first of all, marijuana is legal. secondly, i use it medicinally to relieve stress from my ptsd. and i will enlighten you, it's not just ptsd, it's complex ptsd. you should look it up. the way my doctor explained it to me was very simple. he said, it's not just ptsd, it's an umbrella term that houses a whole bunch of dark fucked up shit. thanks, doc. roger that. i went back a couple years later with my understanding of it. i said, when a soldier goes over to war, that's traumatic. when he comes home from the war, that's post trauma. if someone's dumb enuph to stress that guy out, there's a disorder in there somewhere. he might shoot you. my doctor, a hero of mine at that point, gave that the big thumbs up smiley go ahead. if you want proof, his name is doctor stephen bupp at codac in tucson arizona, you can find him online as well. it took me ten years of hell just to reach him in the first place. that's ten years worth of crap i'm not putting in this email.

and third, i wasn't smoking. it was the end of october, beginning of november, because i don't think i got my disability money yet, and i was in the library. a friend of mine came in to get me, he was going to give me a bud, and we were going to eat the free lunch under the bridge. i walked out of the library with him, and he wanted to stop and sit for a second. as i said, i have complex ptsd, which includes confusion issues if too many people are talking around me, and in those cases, if anything goes wrong... it's my fault somehow. i need to discuss that with a therapist and an illusionist at this point, but we'll skip that for now. moving on.

it was around noon, it was cold and rainy outside, he wanted to sit down for a second, and i was trying to tell him, no, i just wanted to walk up to under the bridge. i always intend to follow and respect library rules, but the one time a friend doesn't, i get fucked. i get blamed for everyone else's problems, and that's just part of the ten years missing from this email that's going into a book as soon as possible. no matter where i'm standing, no matter where i'm walking, i'm always in someone's way, i'm in the wrong place at the wrong time. no matter when i'm talking, i'm taking up someone else's time, or breathing space, or my words aren't as relevant as yours, or i'm not as important as you, or whatever the excuse it, that's the way it's always been for me.

but my friend, rhett, wanted to sit for a second. i was trying to tell him in the midst of the human communication that's so chaotic and damaging to my ears, no, i wanted to keep walking, it's not easy for me to get up off the ground. my knees don't do standing, either. hence getting there early, to not stand in line forever. i have structural deformities in my knees, they run in my family. means the bone was deformed from birth. you can contact doctor moira wristen at carondelet in tucson arizona as well if you'd like to see the xrays. rhett gave me a bud. i had nowhere else to put it, so i pulled out the cheap little two dollar corn cob pipe i had just gotten, put the bud in the bowl, and put it back in my pocket. right about then, when i'm trying to say, we should walk to the bridge, officer bald knob comes out and starts bitching and shoving his authoritative chest in my face, which i have to constantly warn these violent fucking neanderthals, that triggers my ptsd, you might want to step aside. they never shut up long enuph to hear that.

i also have to explain. i have already been pushed past my breaking point long ago. it appears as if i'm still holding it together, but i'm not. and i don't know of any way to prove that to you right now, because my mind is so shredded. authority allowed that to happen to me in the first place. authority has never done me any favours. money has never done me any favours. your god has never done me any favours. yet i still respect your authority, but you still kick me out of every place i can go. and i cannot for the life of me figure out why. is it the way i look, is it the way i smell, is it because i can't buy your products and support a system i do not want to support. i'm an unimportant individual who's being raped and robbed against my will, but that doesn't matter in the eyes of a majority i couldn't hate more in the first place. so, just to add a little flavour to my perspective here.

i picture eric cartman riding around on a tricycle saying 'respect my authoritah!', and everyone else saying 'yeah, dude, shut up, we get it'.

keep in mind, i'm coming from a life you have no idea about. i breathe inspiration like a mutant from the xmen movies. the mother of my children sold my two kids to cps like a back alley drug deal, while i fought like hell for two years to the day to get them back, but because i wear a trench coat and have a third eye, cps feared me, and did all they could to silence me, and not hear me. i have to stress, i won literally every argument with them. i went warhead against a government organization for two years. just try giving me a reason why i should respect authority. just try letting one reason slip from between those lips, and see what ptsd does. i'll give you a hint, you won't like him when he's angry. and if you even try telling me i watch too many movies, then i'll show you my driver's license. my name is ozzy draven. i changed my name just after my daughter was born. like kind of like what marilyn manson did with his names, but whereas he chose to blend beauty with ugly, i chose to blend reality with fantasy, fiction, dreams, imagination. draven is a fictional last name. it's taken from the movie 'the crow', which, if you haven't seen by now, you shouldn't consider yourself educated, and you should sign up for netflix asap. because it does have alot to do even with this story. in the movie, eric draven is killed, and the crow brings his spirit back to set things right. i'd say that's relevant. my life has already been destroyed many times, but i'm still standing. and by all ozzy osbourne's standards, i shouldn't be. my family also sold my car to my uncle, killed my cat, someone stole my computer, and to date, i've lost a total of two desktops and three laptops, but that's okay, too. completely fair and reasonable.

anyway. rhett gave me a bud. i put it in my pipe, which was the only place i could put it. i was not intending to smoke it there, because i'm not stupid, i know library rules, and i don't smoke around big places like that. keep in mind, if i had my own place to live... this shit wouldn't be an issue, and we could all see it for the mundane, asinine, childish fucking joke that it truly is. we can all act like adults, for just one magical moment, and agree on something, instead of having those tight lips that only spit out legally documented versions of 'no'. signed, sealed, and contracted. robotic and inhuman. mechanical, systematic, and... my enemy, basically. there was a death metal album by nevermore, i believe, called 'enemies of reality'. good title.

oh, yeah, song playing now: reflection, by tool. (i was trying to keep those going for clarification of my mood and thoughts. something people without ptsd wouldn't fully understand).

even though i'm built to offend everyone, it hurts me to do so, and i try not to. at the same time, ninety nine percent of the shit on this planet severely offends me, but i have no individual rights in the face of society which i could care less about. so, let's speak fairly, and level the playing field here, should we, gentlemen? we're all adults, aren't we? i guess the only difference is, i speak logic, logic is my god, common sense is my law, and that shows up as hieroglyphs on google translate. so yeah. that's fair.

as i said, i was intending to walk away from the library before even considering smoking, because i can't enjoy the stress relief when there's too many other human turds around me with gaping mouths and loud fucking opinions that don't actually say fuckin' squat, and empty taco bell rappers lining the streets. and yes, i spell intentionally. i'm a writer. i know what i'm doing. unlike another wonderful human being that killed a family of four while he was texting 'sup homie' to a friend who was five minutes away while driving drunk. i love pointing out that little human embarrassment. i know i'm better than that piece of shit, i have standards that put yours to shame, you just can't tell right now, because your dollar tells me my life has to suck, and your authority puts a brick wall around that. joy.

i didn't light the bowl. i was not smoking pot outside the library. i didn't intend to. rhett, on the other hand, does not respect your rules the way i do. i was raised in a military family, i know about respecting fucking rules, you don't need to keep spouting them at me like i don't know. when you assume someone's dumber than they are, you look dumber, and you're pissing someone off. keep that in mind at all times. i've seen rhett light up his pipe on buses, in bus terminals, in all sorts of buildings, without having clue number one about what could happen. should i point out again, that i am nowhere near that stupid. i once had some doctor asshole give me an iq score of one twenty. i said fuck you, doc, i could've gotten a better iq score at a fuckin' walmart. how dare you insult my intelligence by putting it below your own, you fascist prick. people always seem to assume i'm as stupid as they are. but i'm not as dumb as i look. i say that humourously, and no one gets the joke.

which is another thing i'd like to point out. i really like officer dave, i consider him a friend at this point. he's nice, he's friendly, he's been thru shit that made him human, not robotic. he has a heart, i can see it in his eyes. i wanted him to be there with me to talk about this, as a form of support. but that goes against your stupid unnecessary rules. i also wanted another guy on the fifth floor, not a library employee, to say something to my defense, but you don't operate logically, or like a court, where everyone gets to be heard, all evidence gets to be seen... well, i can't accept that, it's just not logical. so i'd like to point out, that authority has absolutely no sense of humour, nuthing to cushion the harshness, so while many people are stuck between your rock and your hard place, their lives often end, and how would you know anything about it. you're basically murderers of god knows who, and i've seen it with my own eyes. lives destroyed because some security guard had to be a prick and prove his point and have his way. but i don't want to step into bill hicks territory, because i don't want the government to kill me too just yet.

after rhett gave me a bud, and i put it in my pipe, i was starting to get myself off the ground to walk away. right then, officer bald knob comes out, sticking his finger in my chest, and completely unaware of what triggers he's setting off like monkeys in a minefield. but that's okay, authority simply has that authority to do so. wow. impressive. concrete talks, wow. and i don't have to be on acid, either. this is fun. what channel are you on, and where's the fuckin' remote. but officer 'i have to be too much of an officer' starts spouting out loud harsh rules and crap, and not listening to a word i said to try and reason with him or explain anything, he just wanted to abuse his power stick and get off on me walking away from the only place i have to go. that's fair. so, since my ptsd was nuclear at that point, my only option was to walk away. he asked if i had any identification, cause he's too powerhungry to abbreviate and talk like a human, and i just glared at him and said no, and walked away. just because you have one, doesn't mean you have to be one. asshole.

song playing now: gauze, by deftones.

i loved this old tshirt i saw once. it had cartoon drawings of a rooster and a cat that were rolling up their sleeves about to fight eachother, and the little bubbles over their heads, one said 'chicken', the other said 'pussy'. hahaha. see, humour lightens the mood and softens the blow, doesn't it? i may not be able to afford your products, but mutherfucker, you can't afford to get a joke. go home and tickle your funny bone with some doctor prescribed standup comedy until you fuckin' laff at something. asshole. doctor's fuckin' orders!

and yes, incase you're wondering, i don't have a ph.d. i have an ev.d. an evolutionary doctorate. it can only be given to yourself instead of a bored of empty suits. wanna argue that one?

i thought this was a progressive town. but greed is the play of the day here. i don't get that. did you guys forget, kurt cobain used to wear dresses on stage? loosen up! van wilder says, don't take life too seriously, you'll never get out alive. he's fictional, too. don't worry, you're just my hallucination, we can move on now.

anyway. after officer dick trophy kicked me out without speaking one word of logic, i tried to come back and talk to him, and also officer michelle, as well as officer dave on several occasions, getting nuthing but gibberish in return. no one seemed to want to have anything to do with me after that. my third eye sees too many contradictions. well, i'll get to that later.

the story is that. i shouldn't have been excluded in the first place, because an idiot friend was breaking one of your rules. i'm sorry if my thoughts are out of order, but i have bed bugs crawling on my skin as i'm writing all this. try keeping your sanity in any of the situations i've been forced into in my life, i'd like to see how strong your mind is. go ahead, i'll watch.

so that's the most of the story. or at least the first part of it. the second part is much worse. and it starts like this.

i am trying to overcome homelessness right now. and you fuckers love to block me at every turn. setting up your blockades, kicking me out of places, and delaying shit that i don't wait for. there's no excuse for that in my individual life, and it is unacceptable. i will have to explain now, that one of the biggest problems in my mother's life, that severely damaged me, was procrastination. she could put off till tomorrow what should have been done fifty years ago. fuck yesterday, tomorrow's dead and gone for her, she's in a hospital with a tracheotomy right now. and that's just her middle finger pointing at me, to thank me for all the wonderful help and hard work over the years to try and improve her life, when i was just destroying my own. i tried to light a fire under her ass, and all i did was make it bigger. and i wasted too much of my body, sanity, and effort to do so. and in return, my entire life gets destroyed. my car, my cat, my tv, my computer i built myself, my two kids, my wife... gone. and that's okay, that's perfectly fair. if they made a movie about my life, oliver stone would have to direct it. but it would have a killer soundtrack. but i'm trying to overcome homelessness. you do not realize how much it destroys, how much time it wastes, how much pain it causes, when you fucking security guards keep kicking me out of the only places i'm able to go, and delaying shit and putting shit off and saying 'no', and 'can't', and 'come back later'. i've written on my blog so many times, because no one ever understands this, but because of my mother, i am not a very big fan of the words 'no', and 'can't', and 'later'. infact, honestly, i fucking hate them. i'm a huge fan of the words 'yes', and 'can', and 'now'. keep in mind what my third eye sees. you want to debate intelligence quotients, we can waste that time, just get me a hot chocolate first. large, with french vanilla creamer. i don't do coffee.

the first part of this second part of the explanation, is that i'm trying to overcome homelessness. that is my priority. authority has absolutely no respect for personal, individual priorities, and we're all supposed to fit into some mold, and have the same issues and the same music collections... i don't do that, never have. i recently lost a music collection of almost sixty thousand albums. if it were on cd, it would fill a small room. people tell me i'm closed minded because i won't listen to their clone rap. okay, yeah, i'll see your closed minded claim, and i'll raise you sixty thousand albums. wanna fuck with me now? then they just stare off into space. yeah, that's legal, sure. you know the difference between illegal and unlawful? illegal is a sick bird.

keeping in mind that i'm trying to overcome homelessness, and your authority keeps fucking my priorities just for your own personal pleasure, i'd like to reveal the rest of this story in brutal honesty, without having it held against me. is that fair enuph?

for the past week, since sunday, i have used that library, most of each day. i was not recognized when i walked in there, nor when i walked out. i did not bother anyone, i kept to myself as i always do, and already said. infact, i'm pretty good at being invisible, it's a bad trait i had to learn in tucson. hence the trench coat. i'm telling you this fact to illustrate three very simple points.

a: if you didn't notice me walking in there,
b: your system doesn't work as it should. and...
c: how important is it to have your way in this specific situation. how important is it to exclude one person from your public place, to abuse your authority in this instance, with me, a person who keeps to myself, never bothers anyone, respects your laws and rules, and your new favourite word, 'policy', meaning it doesn't even have to be a written law, you can just fuck with anyone you want because you don't like the way they look, which is discrimination and profiling, but that's perfectly legal, too.

how important is it, to ruin someone's life, cause them unimaginable pain, delaying their attempts to find a place to live and rebuild the life that was wrongfully taken from them in the first place. how important is it? really. seriously, on an adult, human, equal level, from human to human, or from cop to bum, it's the same thing. it's logic. common sense. human heart. not a fucking toy badge that means you get to say that my life has to suck, no. we're not in elementary school, we don't need to be disciplined with rulers here.

song playing now: lunatic fringe, by red rider.

yes, i have a high class taste in music. this is also to illustrate that my standards are far above yours, and they may not appear that way to you, but that's kind of your fault at the moment, you can't afford to open your perspective wide enuph to get the joke. that's on you. i claim no responsibility for that one. fuck al qaeda. like we really need more idiots with guns. we've seen that news broadcast a billion times, and we can't move on. fucking michael j. fox has seen more future than you have. that's sad. it really is. you can't see what lives authority destroys, simply because authority wasn't designed to care about it. well, by my personal rules, that's unacceptable. so why am i telling you these details, you ask?

well, obviously not to ​further ​incriminate myself, or make this childish bullshit take any longer, but to demand fairness that reaches beyond your badge, a little closer to your heart. and also to let you in on the fact, that your system is not well thought out enuph, and if you'd like some pointers, i would love to give you some ideas on how you could very simply upgrade your security protocol to where it would actually function properly, and you would be able to recognize certain faces and keep them out of the library when they're supposed to be, instead of forgetting that a certain face shouldn't be walking in there at that moment, or to better communicate to the other guards what faces are attached to what issues. and it's so fucking simple, all you guys need is an actual computer tech.

don't get me wrong, the guys on the fifth floor are fine, but it's not creative enuph to think outside the box. i can tell just by the way your computers are set up. default with all options removed. jesus, fellas, that's worse than microsoft does in the first place! if you don't know anything about desktop customization, how the fuck are you going to recognize certain people and be able to keep up with your own rules, instead of having them broken without your knowledge. come on. don't think like a computer technician, think like an artist. and for your information, i actually worked for america online as tech support, so i know what i'm talking about. i've also learned things about security and crap, even though i loathe the very word as well as the concept. i've never had anything handed to me, never found so much as a bud on the street, i'm an evolutionist, so by nature, i have no luck, i'm not superstitious, everything in my life that i have accomplished or achieved, i have done myself. like i said, your authority, money, and god, and concrete fucking rulebook system has never done me one fucking favour. no one can see my talent because your dollar won't shut the fuck up long enuph, and beiber won't get off the fuckin' stage. and i just have to put up with that because i share this planet with six billion idiots glued to television sets and thumb devices that distract your thumbs from what they should be doing, and this is in a world where the majority of the population is in denial of a fifth of their fucking hands in the first place, and you want to debate reality and rules with me? i'm sorry, my third eye is allergic to ignorance, you might want to wear a hazmat suit, or a bullet proof vest or something, there's no telling what this ptsd could do.​ and hell, i'll give you those ideas free of charge. just as a sign of good faith on both sides. stop fucking with my pursuit of happyness.​ and stop walking all over my personal rights and denying it all. my religion says i don't have to fit into any mold if i don't fuckin' fit. there's no way i'm squeezing myself into your brain washing machine. stop trying to cram me into your midget widget, find someone else. you may have everyone else fooled and following you, but it never hurts to have one outsider.

i'm sick of having a shitty life simply because your authority say so. why should i respect that, what has it ever done for me. my mother tried putting me into a mold. but it got moldy, and look where i am now. they say you have to go thru hell before you get to heaven. i already went thru my hell. i'm in seattle now, a city where shit functions and my mind can breathe. and where are they. that's right. fuckin' god's toilet on this earth. and you just know, one of these days, satan's gonna pop his big ugly shitty head out of that earth, and say 'hey! stop shittin' on me!'. the role of satan in that joke is played by my grandmother, just to clarify. you seeing my picture clearly yet? you seeing my perspective? where i come from?

i always have to warn people, because they don't seem to know. i don't know, maybe their parents didn't teach them this, i don't know. i see kids these days pointing and staring and mouths gaping open, and apparently they weren't taught the simple things in life that every child should know before buying a smart phone. don't point, don't stare, and chew with your fuckin' mouth closed! and pull up your fuckin' pants before i knock that hat off your head! didn't your father beat your ass for that? but they just stare at me. and sometimes point, if they can lift their soggy arm off the videogame remote long enuph. god, that disgusts me. there are alot of things in this world that greatly offend me, but if they aren't registered on the offensive language list, they don't matter to anyone else, and i'm not even allowed to claim them as offenses when some asshole is waving a gun in my face. but i constantly have to warn people, and even remind some i have already warned... don't fuck with a writer! you're not going to win! they're a writer, and you can't even spell text properly! you're not going to win. don't fuck with a writer! but they just don't get it. my mother already proved that theory many years ago when i was a kid. i was in junior high, and she was driving a school bus, and some idiot at a school complained about where she parked, and tried to get her fired because of it. my mother wrote a one page, single spaced letter, that almost took down tucson unified school district. do i need to repeat that. yeah, she was smart enuph to forward copies of the letter to the governor, the mayor, the school board, and on down the line, so everyone knew what this power hungry twit tried to do. she got apologies from fucking everyone.

and people complain about me blowing snot out my nose, like 'ew, that's gross'. uh, okay, first of all, if i had a place to live, this wouldn't be an issue. and secondly, what kind of pussy are you. seriously. let me give your perspective a little squeegee. once you've had two kids, and then survived a knife fight in one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in the world?... germs just don't mean shit. my trench coat has had every bodily fluid known to man on it, as well as food shit, motor oil, grease, mud... and i wear that like a badge of pride. my gloves are a reminder to you fuckers of the life you took from me.

so it's time i stop being excluded, and degraded, and told i can't be somewhere, just because of how i look, what i believe, or what naturally growing legal herb i choose to smoke, or where i smoke it, or which single serving friend i happen to be hanging out with at the moment who's actually the one responsible for breaking your rule, and not me.

and that was actually a complaint i wanted to make in the first place that never got heard. officer dick stick came out and started bitching at me, and didn't even look at my friend, rhett. why the fuck is it always my fault what happens around me, how can you even see me, i'm invisible (as i pull my trench coat over my head like a child wearing a costume cape and too much imagination, thinking i'm disappearing). so i should reiterate, i was not even smoking, nor did i even intend to do so!!! rhett was smoking, and officer jackass starts bitching at me!!! what the fuck! how is that fair in anyone's fuckin' rulebook of steal! rhett should have been excluded. not me. that was an asshole move on officer fucktruck's part, and i honestly think i did nuthing wrong. with my ptsd in full fire gear, i think i handled that situation better than anyone else there. even officer dave, who easily could have spoken for me, and gotten ociffer dickstick to shut up and listen for a minute. and the whole time, rhett, the other guy smoking pot, i hope you haven't forgotten about him... that whole time, fucking rhett was pulling a vow of fucking silence!!! so he wasn't even fucking talking!!!

is that not just fucking pathetic? and please, excuse my language, again, but that's just fucking asinine. there is absolutely no excuse for that. in a courtroom, so that there can be order, and everything can be understood properly, the judge will pound the gavel to keep everything calm and quiet, so the whole story can be heard. not outside a library. that's why you don't call it law, you just call it policy, and as soon as i start speaking any logic, you stop listening, and stand there like a fucking zombie triggering god knows how many ptsd triggers, and very possibly destroying someone's day, and if that person is already suicidal, you may have just ended a life, but how would you ever know. you'll never see the fucking obituary, you don't have time with all that badge pushing you get paid so well to do. and hey, why should you care anyway, they were just a bum. well, that's more proof that you're wrong, because this particular 'bum' just happens to be locked and loaded with talent, and the balls to get his kids back. that's right. you want to see determination in homeless people, i'm right fuckin' here. no need to shop elsewhere. and i gladly take visa. although, i didn't accept officer chris's coffee money, it was unnecessary, because you people assume i don't know how to slip thru the cracks of your system in the first place. i'm not stupid. i know where to find wifi. i know how to get things accomplished even when people are trying their damnedest to set up road blocks as quick as they can to keep me in their little playpen prison like a fuckin' pinball baby.

what the fuck. could we have a little sense, please. it's not that hard to put the badge down and see a fellow human, a fellow earthwalker of level ground. so if you can't respect what life you're destroying, on a human level, then i refuse to respect your authority on any level. if you're human, you'll see the logic in that, and you'll go the right way, deciding that yes, you can offer sympathy instead of police brutality that might wind up on youtube, and making an even bigger mistake then this already is. i should point out that my company is not liable for your misunderstandings. it's your responsibility to use your product properly, and understand everything. i am not your teacher, i shouldn't have to explain all this shit to you, while you call yourself an authority, and hide behind that badge. that badge is smaller than you think, dude. and if you think it's bulletproof... well, my friend... you've seen too many movies. i'm sorry.

and that's why you'll never see my talents. i'm just horribly dressed scum in your eyes, that's why it doesn't matter if you kick me out or not. so that's my big question. how important does it have to be in this instance for you to get your way, and exclude me from the only place i can go to, and haven't been completely kicked out of yet, for absolutely childish reasons, how much does it matter to you, that you ruin and delay someone's life and efforts, just so it can be blamed on them later, because you're not around to claim responsibility for that tiny, invisible terrorist attack.

how important is it that you get your way.
how important is it that your authority not be broken, even though i just proved that it already has.
how much does it matter that you procrastinate like my mother, and delay a few more days, for something so fucking petty, that in the face of my overcoming homelessness, is just a fucking child throwing a tantrum in a classroom without a teacher at this point.

does that illustrate my image clearly enuph. because i can do better. i'm a profectionist, and an evolutionist, that's right, i said pro, so i can do this all day. i'm a writer, this is what i do. and i always have to explain to people as well, even though they never understand this, but when i'm in periods of pain in my life, i speak in poetry. it's the only way shit makes sense to me, and i don't feel or sound like a clone. i use euphemisms and analogies alot, i reference alot of things, i speak fluent figurative sarcasm, and the mother of my children put this part best. she said in my writing, my audience is universal. there is not one being in existence that i'm not talking to. she was dead on. you're goddamn right i'm talking to all of you. infact, that's how my comedy show should start out, if i can remember what i fucking lost, thanks to you fucks. and sorry for the adult language, and speaking frankly, but that's just what i am. i'm a writer. i have a good sense of humour, i never take anything too literally or seriously, i always question authority like timothy leary told me to do, and that's exactly how you should take this email. don't take offense to it, don't take it as a threat, as only an unevolved, psychotic, neanderthal mind would (and those are the people we put in power... makes me think of the line from iron man, tony stark's father said 'world peace means having a bigger stick than the other guy'. wow. okay, nice one gentlemen, i'm impressed. now can we sprout some fuckin' thumbs and move on to tentacle downloading please, my hot chocolate's getting cold.

if you haven't figured it out yet, i'm highly intellectual. i'm the person who belongs in your library the most. especially considering i'm using your resources to actually overcome homelessness, that alone should be admirable. but my heroes are the biggest brains on this planet, not the idiots with the biggest guns or the biggest wallets. cause they usually have the biggest attitudes, the biggest egos, the smallest dicks, the biggest trucks, the smallest hearts, and won't even bum you a fucking cigarette. those fuckers can kiss my big black flabby fuckin' ass, with all due respect. and sorry for my adult language, but again, i'm an adult. once i turned eighteen, i bought my first porno, my first pack of smokes, and said 'fuck you' to the store clerk. that's what every adult should do, but for some reason, we have these children who claim to be responsible adults, and i can poke holes in that theory and blow smoke rings thru it.

by the way, can you blow bubbles?

well, good, cause he's back in town and wants your number.

and here's a good way to hang up on a phone call you don't want. when you're on the phone, ask the person these two rhetorical questions. if they're dumb enuph, you might have to explain what rhetorical means first. but ask them this...

hey, what has a little dick that hangs down? an elephant.
what has a big dick that hangs up? click.

leave them to figure it out, and you can enjoy your coffee, cigarettes and porno, and we can all smile and watch coneheads. sound like a good plan? oh, yeah, and at that point, marijuana won't just be legalized, it will be mandatory, so... relax, it's nature's way of saying smile! have a nice day!

so, all that being said, i'd just like to leave you with one quote from one of my intellectual superheroes, that really defines my perspective most of the time. by the way, i missed the one pm lunch under the bridge to be sitting here writing this shit, i hope you can at least appreciate that. and the fact that my own place to live has been delayed at least one month now because i don't smell good enuph to get free wifi, if i were as greedy and selfish as you are, i would be demanding two months rent from you fuckers. and i'm sure i could even pay some dude with a briefcase for a little intimidation. my uncle's done that before, and he was one of my family members who was in the army. he also transported massive amounts of marijuana later in his life. now he sits on his ass, bitching about his replaced knees all the time. what a fuckin' hero. and his father was border patrol, so... just so you know who you're talking to.

but here is one of my all time favourite quotes, that i think is precisely relevant for this moment. it was said by jiddu krishnamurti. you might want to google him.

he said...

'it is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society'.

oh, wow. like butter over the flapjack of my heart. makes my third eye smile and tingle every time. i couldn't have said it better myself.

read that again. it is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society. break it apart even, analyze it. truly dig deeper into it.

it is no measure of health...
to be 'well adjusted'...
to a profoundly sick society.

that means if the world is fucked up, who the fuck are you to call yourself sane? i proudly admit that i'm not sane, even though my psychiatrist would disagree. but thanks to lysergic acid diethylamide​​ in my early twenties, i'm out of my mind and never coming back. or as it says on one of my pages...

yeah, i'm nutty. i dance naked in the rayne and laff at raynebows. what's your idea of a good time?

you should also know, i named my daughter rayne, and my son leary. ​that's right. ​that's who i am.​ i've got dreams that would make john lennon proud.​ i have three blogs, two da pages, two facebooks, a fetlife, a twitter, zero watchers, and a partridge'd family in a dead fuckin' tree. stephen hawking says philosophy is dead. fuck you, stephen, i'm right here. don't write me off before i'm dead, hell, you can't even do that with richard fuckin' pryor. philosophy ain't dyin'. authority on the other hand... i don't see it being necessary much longer. when knowledge is the new currency, libraries will thank me. i'm sure you could appreciate that. use your imagination, that's what the library's there for. isn't it? or am i wrong? is the library just there as a decoration you can be kicked out of at any moment if you don't smell right, or smoke the wrong plant. what happened to forgiveness. i know what's going on in this world, i watch naked news, i know obama's talking about amnesty and shit like that, but we have libraries that won't even let their local visitors come in because their authority is too stiff to forgive an honest mistake. well, that's just not a library, nor a world, i want to be a part of. that society is going to be on my shitlist, and i can't help that. but because i was born from this particular genetic turd circus... i can appear to handle this shit on the outside, while on the inside, i'm desperately slashing my wrists with any piece of metal i can find. everytime i try to compliment a lady to get her to look at me, and she ignores me. every time i try to bum a cigarette and get that look, like 'what scum are you'. how repulsive must i be to get that look from people. it's not my fault you threw my standards in the trash can. but when i get them back, the regrets will start illuminating themselves. because when i get a place to live and start building my life... well... i don't want to give that away to you. i don't feel it's relevant right now. and besides, i think i said already that i have standards that would put yours to shame anyway, so that should just about say it. so, in closing... well... i'll do it this way...

disclaimer: i apologize for being an adult and using language i have ever right to use anytime i want. i apologize for offending anyone, when i'm specifically built to offend galaxies out of their stupid comatose videogame zombie states. i'm sorry for being me, and not fitting into your mold, even though i still try to respect your rules and crap i don't agree with. i'm sorry for not being able to afford to ride the bus to other libraries, or afford the products necessary to get the 'free wifi' elsewhere. i'm sorry my body is not up to par to be able to do your job for you. i'm sorry that lady's ass isn't street legal, but i'm going to have to give her a ticket. i'm sorry my jokes don't fit thru your badge filter, but i hope you can laff at something anyway. i'm sorry if my logic speak doesn't load in your google translate. i'm sorry i have too big of a heart, and too important of a priority to overcome homelessness, that doesn't fit into your holiday schedule. marry fuckin' christmas to you, too. i also apologize if this wasn't worded cohesively, but losing a computer when you're a writer and being raised by a fat flubberfuckin' failure of a projectionist and procrastinator, and then being told you're always wrong, and then being traumatized by never being heard, being brutally verbally slaughtered, and losing your kids to actual real life demons, and then surviving a knife fight, and then moving to seattle might cause dizziness and confusion when explaining too much elementary shit to too many elementary people against your will. you got me so dizzy, my head is spinnin'. tommy roe wrote that song. and who knows what happened to that guy. probly the same thing that happened to the chicken that crossed the road, and the lady that ate the fly. i don't know why she ate the fly, but i know the chicken crossed the road to get away from colonel sanders. but when you cross a chicken with a road, you get roadkill. hence the kfc. i'm hungry, and it's time for dinner.

that being said...

​disclaimer number two: do not take offense to anything in here. do not take anything too literally. do not take this as any form of a threat. do not act like a neanderthal or a child. do not keep motorized parts around children. extremely flammable.​ do not shake, contents under pressure. do not use around children or low intelligence quotients. use a tattoo gun when putting everyone's iq's and bank balances on their foreheads for safe tracking and security purposes. please read the ozztek industries security policy, and keep your receipt handy incase we kick you out. do not have a violent, psychotic neanderthal reaction. incase of a violent psychotic neanderthal reaction, consult a psychiatrist immediately for a psychological evaluation. or an evolve you ation, whatever you can afford. if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you. evolve your nation is copyright twenty fourteen ozztek industries. you can say this, but do not spray it into your third eye, may cause irritation and a rash and diarrhea. and other catastrophies. do not sleep in bed bugs, it's creepy shit on your flesh, and i have skin issues of severe sorts in the first place. and do not fuck with people that have ptsd, you might get shot, and that's your fault, your responsibility, not theirs, not al fucking gay duhs. keep your opinions in their full upright position, and exit at the logical point in your life, not sooner. do not have a heart attack trying to comprehend this email, if your brain starts to hurt, take a nap immediately. marijuana may be required, don't freak out. if you get the giggles, i personally recommend christopher titus. start with the first video, and work your way thru till your cheeks hurt. both sets. do not call the authorities, they can't afford to sit and laff at the tv with you to get the explanation. do not cook pancakes with raspberries in them, that's just nasty. do not feed homeless people bananas either, that's just mean. use with caution, that concrete can get pretty hard on the way down. and may logic be with you. thank you for participating in this new experimental form of human electronic verbal communication clusterfucking, wash your hands on the way out. ticket prices may vary. batteries not included. free wifi with proof of purchase. and do not, under any circumstances, piss yourself or flash your weewee at the ladies while you're blowing snot out your nose. keep the crackers closed, and enjoy the ride. this has been a public service announcement, and i think i gave the public a good servicing. ooh, that had to hurt. watch your step, enjoy your trip, see you next fall. and if your wife asks, that's sriracha sauce from subway, not lipstick from hookers. song now playing: shake it out, by florence + the machine. have a wonderful day.

...
throughout human history, as our species has faced the frightening, terrorizing fact, that we do not know who we are, or where we're going in this ocean of chaos; it has been the authorities, the political, the religious, the educational authorities, who attempted to comfort us, by giving us order. rules. regulations. informing. forming in our minds, their view of reality.

to think for yourself, you must question authority, and learn how to put yourself in a state of vulnerable openmindedness; chaotic, confused vulnerability, to inform yourself.

- doctor timothy francis leary, ph.d.

and i wonder why libraries don't carry his books.

explanations to the blind

okay, i've got half an hour, i might as well see how much i can get typed up. people seem to still be needing these explanations about me, that i don't have time to offer and repeat, i wish i could wear them on my shirt with a doctor's signature under them. but here goes as much as i can spit out in half an hour.

i fucking hate people. i have people issues. i don't like you fuckers. i have social issues. i'm antisocial. i don't get what you fuckers are doing. i look around and see cellphones and sweaters on poodles, and i have studied you fuckers, and i do not understand what the fuck you're doing. you could explain it to me a billion times, i won't get it. fuck it. too much facebook, too much arguing and explaining, and i'm out of time. fuck you assholes. six billion of you fuckers. i hate every single one of you. i truly do. you're a disease.

the cold. when it gets too cold, or too wet, my body locks up, it will not move, it's just extreme pain, red alert, alarms going off, everything is red, i can't move, and... okay... do i need to repeat that again. extreme pain. locks up. freezes. won't move. hurts. do i have to explain that again. i need a doctor to diagnose it, and write it on a tshirt name card, because people think they're fucking doctors who can get away with judging a book by its cover. if my body gets too cold, it will lock up and not move. and it fucking hurts. if you want to know how much it hurts to see if it's worthy of your record books, i'll get michio kaku to find some way to implant a digital chip in your brain that lets you feel what it feels like, asshole. if you think you're that important. fuck you.

and i forget what else there was to explain at this point. so much lost, my mind's a fragment. i fucking hate you all. you've caused the worst thing this earth has ever seen, but you claim no responsibility for it, and therein lie the entire stage show conundrum.

learn to listen

i fucking hate people! i fucking hate people! you all fucking disgust me! i cannot stand this shit anymore! i fucking hate you! all of you!

i was just in the first congregational church in bellevue. i've been staying in their shelter. i like the numbers in their locations. the shelter is on twelve and one twenty, and the church is on eight and one oh eight. the library is on ten and one ten. so it's a diagonal shot thru the town for my morning. here's how it gets slaughtered by people, and having to follow their clusterclogging fucking rules. i puke at your structure.

i was trying to talk to the guy in the church. they have this stupid rule, which i'm sure is only in place to make the rich feel that much more elite, and make the hierarchy of price tags shine brighter every morning. you fucking sicken me. every time i go in there, they keep asking me about who my eastside connection is. i tried telling the guy several times now, but he refuses to listen. they all refuse. they don't care about people's names, they just want a number and an address, which... you know, doesn't that defeat the whole 'privacy' thing we're all so obsessive over? but i keep trying to tell them that i won't know anything till i get my phone fixed. so i tried explaining that to the guy this morning. i was just trying to tell them a few names to get him off my ass. i couldn't even get to the names before he interrupted me. they don't care what you have to say. it's not relevant to them. they don't get paid enuph to listen to you. but i set it up by saying that i've tried telling you several times, and every time i get cut off, and it triggers my ptsd, so could i please say something in private without other people interrupting, and could i please finish what i need to say, because i need to get it out of my head, or i'm fucked for the day. i told the guy that. he said as carelessly as possible, 'sure', and then steps over toward the laundry. yeah, real fuckin' private, i get to stand cramped in a little corner talking over a loud washing machine. thanks. but i started trying to tell him that i won't know anything till i get my phone fixed, but that i can tell you the names. he interrupted me before i got to say the names, saying 'i don't need to know'. thanks for letting me finish, asshole.

he goes on to explain, through a series of hieroglyphic technicalities, that the connection i need is someone who i've lived with, who can give me a home on the eastside... now, wait a minute. first of all, this idiot, i swear he spit about fifty technicalities out of his mouth in about two sentences. i need to decipher the logic behind this little claim he said. you want me to already know someone with a house on the east side... okay... so if they could end my homelessness... why the fuck do i need you. what do you plan to do to help, open their door for me? if i already have someone i know who has a house, why the fuck would i need you idiots and your homeless shelter, and useless fucking rules. but i swear the way he explained it, it's specifically designed to be as impenetrable as possible, it was this quick, three sentence little weaving of impossibilities to have to break thru... what the fuck is wrong with people. why can't you speak english, instead of this verbal puke clusterfuck of red tape legal bullshit. the structure is made to make you stand under it. i do not support your structure. it's a theory i formed many years ago. you don't know me, son. you think you do, but you're wrong. it's my pyramid theory. when the bottom of the pyramid no longer supports the tiny little top... the top falls. it's as simple as that, you don't need to complicate it with your 'but we still have authority and laws and you have to obey our rules' shut the fuck up, we've heard it all, and we're no longer listening.

there's a contradiction that you fail to see. there's a dichotomy of heads here, and no one's paying any attention, but i see it affecting my life and my eyes every day. this is the contradiction in simple terms, right here, right now. in your world built on money and concrete, i can't afford to get in your golden door. but in my world where knowledge is currency... you already can't afford to listen to me. i see that as a sign that i'm winning. your jargon is becoming less relevant, and less understandable. we do not sympathize anymore, we do not compromize anymore, we do not hear your lies anymore, and you have to realize that, you have to understand that, you have to come to terms with that, because it is not our fault anymore, you cannot blame us, we are not your scapegoats under your control with your chains of rules and regulations, we do not fit into your mold anymore, when the fuck are you going to learn this, when can you afford to see us growing out of your control. will it be too late.

that being said, and understood, i hope; he was trying to tell me that if i have an east side connection, that the homeless shelter can help me get set up and on my feet more and quicker and easier... i cannot even fucking remember half of the gibberish this fucker puked out at me. this clusterfucked little web of rules i couldn't see thru just standing there. he fucked my brain against my will. and these people do that every day. you don't realize, you do not understand that you're suffocating intellect with your ignorance, and the fact that your ignorance has authority. shut the fuck up and sit down, or i will start shooting people, i swear to christ.

so, going against the whole privacy thing, he doesn't want a name, and it can't be just a friend or an acquaintance, or someone who lives on the east side who said 'yeah, just come up to bellevue', no, it has to be someone with an address they can have, which defeats the whole privacy policy bullshit they're always shoving down my throat. i'm just not good enuph for your world, that's all there is to it, why can't you just fucking admit it. can't you afford to tell a truth? are you in that much debt from your lies? i know about being in debt with lies, i watched my drug addict uncle try to lie his way out of trouble, and when you'd catch him in the lie, he would just keep lying, perpetuating this grand story of aliens came and took my bag of weed, so i had to steal your car and sell it to get another bag of shut the fuck up, that's all you are is lies, there's nothing true about you. relax, you're just my delusion. the sooner you all realize that, the sooner we can evolve.

now, still trying to fragment piece together and decipher what the fuck was just raped into my ear hole. what it sounded like to me, was that they want an address of someone in bellevue, so they can kick you into that person's house, and claim that they helped you overcome homelessness. and that's what sickens me about this bullshit. the whole fucking picture of homelessness sickens me. the fact that some people aren't good enuph for your world because they can't pay to pay you enuph to pay you more, they don't kiss your ass enuph to make your throne cushy enuph to make the dollars fall out of your pocket faster, you, the owner of all dollars. i plan to end you. i'm the man you're waiting for. i'm sick of this shit, and it's time to start playing by my rules. if you violate my rules, you die. that's how a conqueror would do it.

i've been saying for years, you're all fuckin' with the wrong guy, but it's been at least four years, and no one has listened, no one has stopped, no one has apologized, you all just keep shoving your rules up my ass and expecting me to like it. fuck you. that ends today. i'm sick of this procrastination, getting stuck in the constant, never ending cycle of tomorrow, tomorrow, that has to be done tomorrow, that has to wait for tomorrow cause we can't do it today, cause today got fucked with walking thru streets for miles with no help from the six billion pricks on this planet... i'm tired of that shit. why do we keep waiting for tomorrow, but talking about today. i say we make today happen... today. we stop waiting. i'm sick of waiting. no more waiting for tomorrow. today is today. it's a monday, let's see how much i can accomplish today, and how high above the heads of these rule infested assholes i can soar. i swear to christ, i will do it. and you cannot stop me, because i know your wall of paper rules, i know its limitations, i know where it's already cracked, and i know exactly where it can break. i'll tell you again, you're fucking with the wrong man.

it really sounded like what this mutherfucker said, was that i need to take care of this whole homeless situation myself. i need to already have a house to live in, i need to give them my address, and pay them a bunch of money, and then open my own door, get my own furniture in there, and then thank them while they're fucking me in my ass, while i'm trying to close my door, as they take all the credit for raping me into my own apartment, but it's still not good enuph to be a house, so as soon as i close my door, i owe them more money, and oh, i closed my door on his dick, so now they need to confiscate my door and charge me more money, and hey, why not take a donut with you while you're at it, i hope it reminds you off my asshole, i'll wrap a bow around it and send a gift card to your mother.

they don't want to listen to you. they don't get paid enuph to hear you. you have to do their job for them, but abide by their rules while doing so... can someone tell me, why are those people there. why do they exist. why are they taking up space in that building. why, what is the purpose of them being there. what are they doing to fix the problem. they're just complicating a situation that doesn't need to be this complex. there are empty houses on this planet. there are people without houses. seems like a simple equation to me. i don't see any dollars or money or rules or security guards or addresses or papers or forms or sign here or signs signs everywhere a sign sign, i see none of that shit when looking from this side of homelessness with open eyes, i don't even see you. but you're standing in my way, and declaring your right to do so because the cop behind you has a badge that i could give a labia licking fuck about. you'll never understand this, and it's for that reason, that the future just does not need you. simple as that. if you keep interrupting me, and destroying my thoughts and sanity, and triggering my ptsd with your disastrous communication skills, brutally verbally slaughtering me because you can't afford to listen and don't have the time, and raping your rules up my ass to where i can't breathe, all while i'm doing your job for you, i'm gonna stop listening. and i might start shooting. i warned you. several fucking times, for several years, i warned you. but when you take me to fail jail, you'll claim that you never heard me, and that it's my fault. no, it's the dollar's fault. the dollar in your pocket. it built a world of hierarchy that wouldn't let me penetrate it, so i had to destroy it. i'm sorry, but it was time. too many people were suffocating under your reign. your ass got too fat, and you broke the throne. you can whine about it, or you can fuck off and die, and we'll read about you in history class.

so let me get this straight. you want me to find someone who has a house in bellevue. you want me to get their address and give it to you. even a dog would wonder why at this point. then, you want me to thank you for making it impossible to get into that house, while trying to get into the house, and then you want me to thank you for your help. i'd like to get a lawyer and have him look over this gibberish fuckin' red tape jargon, and tell me if i have a good enuph translation of the message. and then, i want to have a psychologist look over the whole thing, and tell me if i'm completely insane, or if you're just my delusions. and not just any psychologist, but my hero psycho the butt rapist doctor bupp. spit that out in as many alphabet soup letters as you want. do it in random order, i don't give a fuck. put pink sprinkles all over it, maybe you'll feel better.

but meanwhile, i'm homeless, and being tramped thru your fucking rules, trekking thru the streets everyday, doing your job for you, walking, making phone calls when i don't have a phone, taking buses i can't afford to take, getting looks from people that my stomach can't digest, freezing my ass off, in more pain than i can cry about, jumping thru your hoops, wasting day after day after day after day, and i'm not allowed to ask why, i'm just allowed to wipe my chin and thank you afterward. that's no freedom i ever paid for. that's not what i gave up my children for. no, see, you all start playing by my rules today, or you die tomorrow, and i fuck your future as it's coming out your mother's ass, as she turns into the headstone of your ancestors, just because i held down the down key on super mario three and turned into a stone while you ignorantly passed by. i plan to shove my head right up the back door of the monetary media system, where they least expect the guy they've been waiting for, doing this whole stage show for, which really paints a clear picture of what idiots are running this circus side show... but that's it. i don't need to complicate shit by using meaningless words out of order like you fucks. i'm coming in your back door, i'm injecting my message into the power cord behind the television, i'm shoving my head right up your ass until you explode, and that, my students, is how a mushroom is born! class dismissed, go fuck yourselves till you learn something.

but anyway, the dude refused to listen, so i just walked out the door, and i figure bellevue is now just as fucked off the list as seattle. i'm running out of cities where morons don't exist. and the more i do so, the more my third eye is clarifying the image it sees of utopia. it's coming. if i have to carve it out of my own fucking heart, it's coming. i refuse to let it pass one more day. you can bitch, or you can fuckin' die. i don't care. rich greedy fucking pricks, selfish assholes... i had a picture on my old facebook that said 'republicans are people too... mean selfish greedy people'. okay, so fuck the democrats, where are the anarchists that are brave enuph to get their hands dirty to build a new city. email me. i'm tired of wasting time. clock's ticking.

some thoughts in the cold

part of the show:  i'm a libra of cartoonishly galactic proportions. but at least i'm not walking around on the streets going 'got any shards, man?'. what the fuck is that. could anyone tell me. i really don't understand that. got any shards? i'm an underdeveloped fetus, but i'm trying to do my impersonation of michael jackson in thriller. but i need more shards so i can do it better.

oh, i get it. i'm an evolutionist, you must be the missing link. well, nice to meet you, glad to see where i came from. well, mama always used to say, you can either be the missing link, or the weakest link. it's up to you, i guess.

i'm lookin' for some shards.

do you know what's in shards?

uh huh. i memorized the wikipedia page.

do you smoke pot?

no, it makes me feel stupid.

would it scare you if i told you that was a true story? that little thumbless methroach missing link monkeyturd is walking our streets, and you fuckers aren't as disgusted as i am? (i'll grow this hydroponically later).

...
a vision i had: some guy is trying to count some big number on his fingers, and doesn't realize his third eye sees another way. so he holds up his hands, and just starts sprouting fingers and thumbs all over his body. people look at him, 'what are you, a fuckin' mutant?'. 'hoho, i didn't know i could do that'. he's got thumbs going up to his crown chakra. he tries it again, and this time it opens the top of his head, and this big bright beaming light turns on from his head, and lights up the universe. we can see galaxies in high definition daylight. and we see god sitting up there in the sky. big fat naked dude jerkin' off and looking at santa clause porn. trail of butter, beer, batter, and shrimp down his chest. he's sitting on a toilet just above tucson, arizona. and every christian in this country who carries a gun, pulls it out, and starts shooting at him.

cause we all know, that's where god takes a shit. tucson, arizona. one of these days, you just know, satan's gonna pop his big evil head out of that dirt, and say 'hey, stop shitting on me!'.

...
ideas for books: go ahead and publish everything i have up till now as the first book, and call it 'fragments of another lost past life'. then, immediately release the second book, and call it, 'the story of how i lost it all'. and then release the third book, and call it 'beginnings of the right life'. and have it lead into 'the eyes of evolution', which explains... the whole fuckin' thing.

the last of my sanity

i haven't been able to get my phone to charge for the last several days. so, last night, after the eight pm dinner under the bridge, which was spaghetti, by the way. that will come into play later. i sat in my tent for a while, wishing i could hear my music. it was about forty degrees last night, keep that in mind, too. so i sat up, smoked a cigarette, and looked at the bottle of alcohol... well, okay, rewinding. the other day on the bus, when i was looking for a new place up in university district to put my tent, because little did i know, you can still be 'evicted' even when you're already homeless. yeah, believe it or not, if someone doesn't want you sleeping on a certain piece of grass, they can just tell you to move. it doesn't cause them any stress. but anyway, on the bus home, right when i'm about to get off at my stop, this bum in a wheelchair on the bus goes to get off the bus, and drops a big bottle of whiskey. almost full. now, i'm not a drinker, i don't drink, i think it's one of the dumbest drugs on this planet, but we'll get to that later. but i thought, what the hell, i picked it up, put it in my trench coat pocket, and got off the bus. i figured maybe i could trade it for some pot. so anyway. i'm sitting in my tent last night, smoking a cigarette, and i looked at the bottle of whiskey. and i thought to myself, well, fuck it, alcohol keeps you warm, and i've got nuthing else to do right now except try to get a charge on this fucking phone that might last all night. so i walked down to the spot where i sometimes charge my phone, and sat there. i started drinking the bottle, and plugging in my phone, trying to get it to charge. well, long story short, i lost my last little shred of sanity, my tent's destroyed, my phone's destroyed, my feet might actually have frostbite, and i feel like killing someone. the next security guard that runs me off, i don't care. if i walk into a cellphone store, and they feed me some horseshit line about i need to mail my phone off and wait seven days, i just might stab the guy. i keep trying to warn people about my fragile sanity, and they just tell me i'm whining too much. anyway. i sat there and tried for two hours to charge my phone. from around ten pm, to around midnight. the phone would not charge. so i fucking broke it. i smashed it up against the concrete i was sitting on, broke the glass screen so it doesn't even come on anymore. go ahead, blame that on me, it gets worse. i smashed the phone. so i walked back up to my tent, and tried to just lay down and go to sleep, hoping the alcohol would help me pass out. well, around two am, i puked myself awake in true jimi hendrix style, except that i didn't die. i puked inside my tent, are you smelling this situation yet. also, keep in mind this whole time, i've got bugs living inside my clothes. see how well your sanity would do with something like that. shit crawling on your skin, twenty four fucking seven. go ahead, i'll wait. give me two weeks of that and tell me you can still resist stabbing someone in a world where you seriously do not agree with the way they do shit. go ahead.

so, around two am, i puked myself awake. i got out of my tent drunk off my ass, and proceeded to stumble thru the streets in a drunken stupor. i just wanted a lady to show my cock to, that's all i fucking wanted. please, god, just give me one good thing to end this fucking horrid day with. a smiling set of eyes, please. there were no women out last night at two am. oh, yeah, and i forgot one of the best parts. when i puked myself awake and got out of my tent... i was really drunk and stumbling, so i of course destroyed my tent. just trying to stand up straight. destroyed my tent. it cannot be fixed, it's gone. all my shit inside there. and today was the last day i had to move my tent to another piece of grass where people won't evict me. are you seeing how ridiculous this is getting yet. i'm in a library i got kicked out of, smelling like puke, just to tell someone this, and i have no one to tell. you still keeping your sanity? good fuckin' for you. i destroyed my tent, puked all over everything in it, but the worst fucking part. you want to hear the worst fucking part? i puked all over perry's mousepad. the last thing i had held onto for this long. my neck refuses to pop, even though i declared war on it, and sent a few nukes last night, my neck still will not fucking pop. how's your sanity doing? smelling like puke yet? whiskey spaghetti puke? are you hanging on with me, on this wonderful little rollercoaster ride of sanity. i destroyed my tent, destroyed my phone, and puked all over perry's mousepad. my feet might actually have frostbite, and i need to be signed into a hospital before i kill someone. i've been begging for help this whole time, keep that in mind, but i assure you, they'll just blame it all on me.

i've got a problem with a world where i can't afford the slightest bit of sanity. where there are six billion people consuming products, and i can't get a single one of them to care enuph about me to scrape me up off the streets, and help me smell better. i have a serious problem with you fuckers. i also have a problem with this world, where if i had an idea, a solution to overcome this homeless problem, i already know for a fact that the people in charge of the tight little fascism festival known as windows phone eight, and those other assorted assmaggots and fuckclowns, would say no to my dream. i know they would. oh, you don't think so, you doubt that? okay, well, here's my idea, then, smartass, since you need proof like christians need proof of evolution when they base their faith on... zero evidence. yeah, those assfucks. here's my idea. the shit that they're making these smart phones out of? you know, all the plasticky crap. get nasa to start mass producing this shit, and build high tech houses out of. oh, fuck nasa, they're not doing anything else anyway, we've only got one fucking moon, how much of a space program did reagan really need. or even carter, who i was born under. i love that fucking term, make me sound submissive from my day of birth, yeah. i'm sitting in a library i got kicked out of, smelling pot, which is always a really... it's fucking hell for me to smell pot when i don't have any. i don't guess anyone could understand that enuph to sympathize. i couldn't squeeze sympathy out of you fuckers if i had one of those orange juicer things... i'm smelling pot, and i can't have any of it because humanity is selfish, and we're all too concerned with security and keep that nasty fucker away from me. that's where humanity's at right now. i've got no one to tell this story to. my heart is so fucking... my last little fiber of sanity is gone. you want to question that? doubt that? debate that? okay, doc, since you always have so much to say about my sanity, like you know it better than me, go ahead, let's hear what you've got. 'oh, well, it's all your fault, and you whine too much'. thanks, doc, here's a kick in the nuts as payment for something i didn't need again. go fuck yourself. i think i know my mind better than you do, how's that for a theory. i'll enforce it with the first gun i find. don't fuck with me.

i'm one of those guys, you see them once in a while thru history, i'm one of those guys, the guys you just don't fuck with. you can see it in their eyes, they will hurt you. well, our ancestors were a little lax on the teachings, and that's not my fault. i am full of passion, and desperately trying to save what little of myself i have left, and no one is listening. out of six billion of you earless fucks, not a single one of you can have enuph heart to listen to me. that's just the beginning of my day today. my tent is broken, it has puke in it, my phone is destroyed, and at this point, i just need to be signed into a hospital before i kill someone. if i get strapped down to another bed, i will kill someone. i will prove that you fuckers don't listen for shit. i've been screaming for this help for too long now, without being heard. that is wrong. your parents should have taught you that, but blame me, your beloved scapegoat, just because they didn't. go ahead, make my fuckin' day. when i finally start shooting people, every single one of you idiots is going to listen to what cnn says about me, and you're all going to blame me, because you cannot possibly handle that blame yourself. you couldn't take responsibility for that if you actually understood it. and you still call yourselves responsible. i laff at that. just so you know. but when i finally go off and start shooting people, it will be because i have gone without proper care and help for too long now, and that is not good. you people cannot do that. i live in a world where everyone can have a nice comfy cozy home to sit in every night, and... this is just a fraction of what i have to deal with, and you fuckers think that's so fair, that you can come kick me off this piece of grass... yeah, okay, where's the sign saying i can't be there. show me that fucking sign, and i'll show you a little piece of logic called 'signs' by tesla. it's an old tune, we've all forgotten about it, but it should have taught us something. i have a major problem with each and every one of you fuckers, and i'm about to turn this into a game show where you all lose, but you all win by learning what the fuck you've been doing wrong this whole godfucking time. does that sound fair to you? how about if i just stab you, and move on to the next intelligence quotient. i'm a firm believer that everyone needs to have their iq stamped on their foreheads, and if you can only listen for ten seconds before interrupting... that's your iq.

so, with all this being said, i'm saying goodbye to you all for a while. i need to be hospitalized before i do something i don't want to do. you can debate that with your semantics all you want, but you're just looking like idiots in my eyes, if that could even matter to you. that's exactly, precisely how careless and heartless you fuckers have become, and i plan to... well... in a poetic way, which you still don't understand... i'm about to do some open heart surgery on this entire planet. hope you enjoy your broken puke tent, a busted ass useless fucking phone, and bugs. they're like my tenants, and whenever i catch a few doing something they're not supposed to be doing... being seen by me, that is... i evict a few of them. i love feeling the power. it makes me feel completely insane, which is how i gauge sanity, and you fuckers couldn't understand that if it was on wikifuckin'pedia. so kiss my hairy black fucking ass, i'm trying to salvage what's left of my own sanity right now, so i don't start killing you all. but i would love to, instead of going to a hospital and wasting my time being treated like i'm stupod, i would much rather walk into a microsoft store somewhere, and say 'hey, i've got an idea, who do i talk to'. i have a dream, who do i talk to. point me in the direction of people who give birth to dreams, i'm pregnant with a big mutherfucker, and we're gonna need a c section stat. nurse, get the fuckin' scalpel. don't fuck with me. i'd love to walk up to whoever controls the ideas of this wretched planet, and tell them my big donkin' zinger. yeah, this plastic crap they make smart phones out of. get nasa to start mass producing this shit, and build houses out of it. they're portable, they fold up into a little case, they can be plugged in and charged anywhere, they keep you warm, and i'll sell 'em to you fucks dirt cheap. dirty deeds, done dirt cheap! high voltage, mutherfucker. i've got big balls, and you're about to see 'em. get an eyefull, get a real gander goin' on there. i still feel like puking again. i feel so goddamned... i can't even find the words. i hate alcohol, this is what it does to your life, and that's why i don't fucking drink. it would behoove you fucks to keep me on a constant supply of pot, but you'd charge yourselves too much, and you'd bitch and whine too much, while refusing to hear my solution. selfishness, greed, paranoia, policy, fascism, security, fear, it's all going out the fucking window. i just wish someone could be a fan of mine while i'm doing this. but they way i see you fucks, no one will even thank me when i'm done. and you wonder why i hate you. you wonder why my sanity is this fragile. but you won't even ask me the question, let alone let me answer it. and you think you care. you think you have a heart when you go to fuckin' abercrombie and buy your little (red) bag that donates twenty percent of your pants purchase to whoeverthefuck.com, yeah, that's caring. get your latté, your fuckin' prius, your designer jeans and your fuckin' chihuahua, and fucking die already. take all that fucking trash with you, would you please. i say we pick a volcano on this planet, and give it a little fuel. throw some shit in there we don't need, as a collective of mature responsible creatures, i want us all to stand on that volcano, and decide all together, hey, this fuckin' beiber asshole, we don't need him, and we all vote together, the æyes have it, toss the little bitch in there. hey, windows phone eight, do we need this? no? toss it in there. guns? meth? heroin? blonde skank snacks that don't put out? toss 'em in there. lawmakers? republicans? fascists? moneygrubbing greedmongers? people who retail fear? hey, i think we just evolved.

so that's my day, folks. that's my wonderful morning that i have woken into. i have no choice but to lock myself up, because i'm trying to save your fuckers lives. that's not how crusaders and conquerors are born. how do you think genghis khan got started. did he ask a therapist for help, or do you think he just bravely picked up a gun and started reinventing reality. you'll never understand what i am, speaking thru these lips from the other side of reality. you can't see me. you refuse to try. you won't ask me a single question, you couldn't listen to the answer if we had duct tape, what good are you. why are you here, you're taking up space, you need to go. warriors, conquerors, crusaders... and you people think because you have a smart phone... you're safe. your phone won't protect you from shit. your society, your leaders, they won't protect you if i come for you. what security are you even paying for. you don't need security, you need logic. i've been saying that all along, and have proven that you fuckers aren't listening. but all you need is logic. just sit someone down at a table and think of something, that's literally all it takes. but you refuse because the dollars tell you those people need to be in prison, and stripped of all their choices that could keep sanity functioning properly in their fuckin' soggy muffin heads. i fucking hate you all, i hate so much, that i can't even find the words anymore. and after getting another bad message from perry anyway... my heart is dead, my sanity is gone, and i thank you all for a wonderful trip thru your fuckfest. your disaster plaster. i fucking hate you all, and i will invent a better way out of this, whether you like it or not. and if people that say no too much have to die in that process, that's not my fault, they were standing in the way of a bulldozer, and their parents should have taught them not to do that, but since they didn't, that's one string of ancestors we no longer need here, and i say we start populating this planet with more yes mouths. people who say no to dreams should be shot. if you even start to debate that, you'll be shot, too. the future is no time for pussies, ladies and gentlemen. kick your balls up, or there's the volcano.

good fucking riddance.

a thought on knowledge...

something i realized today. and i'm just summing it up here, i recorded it. this morning, i realized there was nuthing i could do on a sunday, so i wasted the first couple hours of my morning listening to an idiot interrupt me over and over. just because he had pot. not enuph to give away, but just enuph to smoke to where i still don't get stoned, and it's a complete waste of time. after i walked away from this idiot, i passed by an information booth. and i thought to myself, how much information do you have. how much are you worth. do you have anything that's worth something to me, can you answer the questions i have to ask. and that's when i realized, knowledge is already a currency. i can sell what i learn to overcome homelessness here, cause no one else is. i also realized, i need to start walking and asking and seeking in the directions of the people who have the answers to my questions, the knowledge i seek that's valuable to me, otherwise i'm wasting my time. so no more talking to people that have pot, because that's all they have. no information. and i'm thirtyfive years in debt, i have no more time to waste, i need answers now, and if you're not giving them to me, you're wasting me time, and i'm walking away. no more sundays. no more vacations, not one more wasted moment. it's not a tug of war rope anymore, it's a rope going up a hill, and you keep grabbing the nots till you get to an apple, or something that will lead your body further up hill. the people at the bottom chewing on the bibles are going nowhere. i'll never know how they got the equation apple = knowledge = evil, that's not even a fucking math equation, speak english or get the fuck back in the history books where you belong, i'm evolving, i see it as apple = knowledge = fuel, value. which is what is needed to build a new world on a new currency. figure that out, i don't have time to explain it to you. but basically, that's my philosophy now, that's my rule that i will get out of the habit of breaking just for an interesting human experience. fuck humans, they don't have what i need. but that's my rule, if you aren't answering my question with anything positive, or in the direction of yes, i will walk away quicker and quicker, because i'm wasting my time, getting nowhere with you, and the woman who i will marry, who will be most valuable to me, will be the smartest girl on this planet, because that's a relationship. unless, of course, perry comes back. she's eternally got my heart. that smile is worth more to me than any knowledge, it's the holy grail i seek. it does more to my heart than any amount of knowledge could do to my brain. it gives me the most fuel. i love you, hunny.

sit on this

i need to point this out, because it doesn't seem to be getting thru, and your paranoia and authority and ability to control other people has gotten out of control. i can state it simply, but it will take much more explanation for you to understand. no human should ever have the right to dictate where any other human can sit. if you can't understand that, you should be ashamed of yourself. i'll go into more detail. you stand on that spot of land that's under your two feet, you don't own any more earth than that. you should be able to understand that. but sadly, this whole thing will need to be written.

you built this city, this society, this civilization, for people to be able to congregate and have somewhere to do something, somewhere to live their lives. but everyone who stands on that land, has to pay you for a place to live, food to eat, electricity for their gadgets... the one guy who everyone else is paying to stand on this land is seriously raking it in. great scheme. you almost had everyone fooled. and you would have kept it going had you not fucked up and told me not to sit there. this city functions on money. these concrete buildings function on money. if all those people around that building aren't paying you money, they can't be there. that's not humanity, that's unfairness, and i will point it out till it dies.

in creating a city, you also created homeless people. people who either can't or don't want to take part in your money exchange, your monetary structure, and your dictation of life. you have to understand that, not as a dollar holding boss of anything, but as a human. money has eroded your compassion, and turned you into a paranoid, selfish child. you created homeless people, simply by building a society established on money, some of those people don't like money, don't have much, and therefore cannot exist happily on the part of this round planet you say you own that we should all be sharing equally. we can get into the debate over greed and safety and policy later, as it's just the first grade of this debate. i'd rather point out your childishness, your selfishness, i'd rather focus on those.

no longer does your money get to fund your paranoia and your dominance over me. you men don't realize how much you have to dominate shit out of insecurity, but i watch its embarrassing presence on the streets everyday. it's not healthy. i can have any psychologist, any lawyer, any rockstar, any anarchist, any other homeless person, any hacker, back me up on this, and i will. i'm fighting this little argument of yours to the death. because i'm sick of it. you can't tell me not to sit there. plain and simple. you don't own shit. you own what's under your fuckin' feet, and don't you forget it. don't give me that childish excuse driven horseshit. you're a whiny little fuck who can't listen, and you need a mother to tell you so.

you created a society. some people obviously do not fit into that society. if they can't pay you for a place to sit, you don't let them sit. and i see some of their faces. you close your eyes to it, but i see it. you close your eyes to it simply because you can afford to. i'm about to make the word 'afford' irrelevant. if people do not fit into the structure of rules in your monetary society, seems to me there are a few solutions you've overlooked or not heard.

behind door number one. you give homeless people their own little 'reservation' of land where they can sit till their heart's content. all you need to put there is a fuckin' home depot. you can't take up this much earth, and tell us we can't stand on that part of the earth because you own it. you're simply able to pay a higher price than we can to stand on that spot, you cannot dictate who else stands there. when i was in elementary school, these other stupid kids kept touching my desk one morning, and it was starting to piss me off. every kid that would walk by my desk would knock my pencil out of the little tray at the top of the desk. as a child, i started getting pissed off, and telling everyone to stop touching my desk, which they of course has to be children and touch it more, and the teacher had to be a moron and neglect to notice. that event ended in total chaos because it couldn't be controlled by an adult with logic. it was a disaster. teasing, embarrassment, tears. that was me as a child. since then, i have matured, and realized that what i should have done, was asked the teacher, and if she wasn't mature enuph to help, i should have just shot the whole classroom, and the teacher, and spent the rest of the day reading a book. and a brain like me should be able to do that in the next thirty years. i've got money riding on it.

behind door number two. you start lining your streets with little beds and places to sit. when it comes to pop music, you seem insecure without the numbers. you're constantly trying to convert people to you clones. but when it comes to buildings, you seem insecure with the numbers. 'you can't be here'. do you realize how spoiled and insecure and paranoid you sound. you sound like a whiny little child fighting over a toy, 'no, it's mine'. that's what you fucking sound like. i could have a psychologist back me up on that, and i will. there's no excuse for this behaviour, there's no reason to keep people from sitting down and being able to claim a little spot of earth as their own.

behind door number three. if you can't seem to do one of the first two options, then your monetary structure and dominant dictation of life around you has to go. you're taking up too much space, charging too much money for it, making too much blood off of us, it's not fair in any logical respect, and you need to find another planet on which to take up so much space. and claim it selfishly as yours. there you go, baby, a whole planet to yourself. now how soon are you going to get insecure and call home asking someone to make you less lonely. none of us know who else we have in this darkness of confusion, so stop being a prick, and we'll let you come back home. no one told you that you could own this spot of earth, and you know it. stop acting like because mommy was rich it entitles you to own land. the earth is bigger than you.

i see it as a really elementary little cartoon drawing in some newspaper. i see a tiny little round planet. a few trees on it, some little chinese building on the other side of it. and there's two guys standing there. little bubbles above their heads. one guy says to the other, 'you can't stand here'. and the other guy says back, 'it's a big round world last time i looked, buddy'. you have your spot, i have mine, and you can't dictate where i sit. i equally own just as much land as you do, asshole, stop acting more important than me. this is elementary school, and you're pissing off the teacher. it's your turn to shut up and listen. you've dictated enuph mistakes. your track record is horrible. you're fired.

now. if that isn't clear enuph, i will offer this. this morning, i was sitting in a nice small little doorway of a big building. i'll take pictures of it for the lawyers, i know they like images of concrete. and if none of you can have any sense of humour with your logic about this this morning, i'm done feeling sorry for you, and accepting your excuses, and i'll start treating you as a child the way your mother should. you can't give me that 'it's our policy' excuse anymore. money doesn't enable policy. unless it says in your policy somewhere that it does. and if it says that, i didn't click accept. fuck you.

in this little doorway space, there's a sign that says no smoking, there's another sign that says emergency exit only, when you open the door, the alarm sounds, there's no handle on the outside of the door to get in, no one's coming out that door. idiot tells me i can't be there this morning, and won't listen to any part of a debate on the issue, none of them will. not that i'm even trying to debate those verbless idiots, i'm just trying to see how soon they'll lose control of their tempers and blame it on me. i'm just toying with them to see how childish they can be. i recorded one on my phone this morning, and i'm using it as evidence of your immaturity in this argument. you can't even call it a debate.

this tiny little doorway where i was sitting, i'll show it to you all, it's safe, i'm there butt ass early in the morning, sky's just getting light... no one is coming out that door. if they do, there's still enuph space around me to open the door and get thru, i'm not in anyone's way, i'm not hurting anyone, i'm not bothering anything, but you're bothering my morning, my disabled body, and fucking up what i was thinking as a writer, but you don't give a shit about that, you're not listening to that part of the argument, so i'll move on. idiot tells me to get up, i can't be there. i see his ears close over like an elephant crossed with a rhino, and it's children in school from that point on. and he has to run off and get another child because he's not mature enuph to handle it himself, it's above his pay grade and what he's told to do. the only authority any of you have is simply what you're being told to do. can you fucking realize that yet. it would help us get past lot of this.

now, after you see the spot i'm talking about, i hope that in that sort of resolution, you can clearly see that this is just childish, immature paranoia at work here, and no logic to speak of. nuthing is being done about this, no one is debating anything with open ears, it's just getting worse. and i know from experience, when things are this childish, and getting worse, they get out of control quick, and can become a disaster. are you following, are you paying attention yet, are you understanding this yet. do i have to spell it out for you. what legal language do you need, i'll get google translate on it quick.

can you see now, in that resolution, that it's just paranoia. it's one child's ability to tell another child they can't play with that particular toy because they're not good enuph. it's two men standing on a tiny round little world, and one trying to dominate the other out of childish insecurity and need for attention. can i get a psychologist to support that? can i get a lawyer to make this a case. can i get my heroes to back me up. robb flynn, i know you'd stand with me on this. walk with me, and take this seed, a fire for you, so dare to fail, will you?

all i need to ask, is how many rockstars, hackers, anarchists, and other homeless people can i get behind me on this, and this argument ends now. it's over. no longer can you dictate where we sit. if you don't want us sitting there, do what i do, get up and move. stop being such a child, and telling me i'm not allowed to sit on your building when i'm just trying to stay warm. go back to mama's house, and have her make you a bowl of chicken soup, and have her play 'another day in paradise' for you. remember that song? phil collins did that tune. incase you missed your history, he still has more talent than most of your pop stars. when i see pop people walking around the streets, i seriously see them as little walking suckers. you know, like blow pops, the little suckers with the wrapping around the big round head, and a tiny little stick body, and you take the wrapper off, and it's all sticky and gooey underneath, and the flies get stuck to it, and that's how you make pop music, children. tune in for yesterday's class on greed and 'but it's an emergency exit'.

you fuckers want to keep being childish, and not even have the balls to debate me on this... you keep proving that your ears have sealed shut, and it's not going to be a nice day when we kick you out of office. we don't be doing it the nice way. the longer you refuse to listen, the more it's gonna hurt. i remember my mother telling me that when i was a child. there should be some sense of irony in there. if you haven't had a blood bubble in your heart at this point, then you simply aren't allowed to own land. simple as that. if you truly can't get that yet... your time's up. thanks for stopping by, but you can't sit here anymore. fuck off.