april in haight

let's see. i've finally started telling people to read my blog when they ask about my negative past, so i might as well start talking on this damn thing again. see if anyone actually reads it yet or not. see if anyone cares, if anyone can afford to give a good load of rainblow horseshit.

march sucked. i was lonely, unnoticed, ignored, excluded... as always. i tried to be noticed, i tried to make friends, i got nothing. first of april showed up, i woke up, got my money, spent it on some new friends. bought suzie a new twenty dollar pipe, bought everyone lighter leashes, a bunch of food. thanks to my bank continually fucking me and getting away with it, i only got about four hundred and fifty bucks this month, and spent all of it on them, and as soon as the last dollar was gone, so were they, and i still can get no love, or attention, or weed, or cigarettes, or care, or heart, or eyes from anyone on this hateful fucking street.

i'd like to thank the old fart in portland for telling me to come to a town that was so depressing it actually made me want to kill myself. i came alot closer here than i did in seattle. that's sad.

i'd also like to say here, how sick of money i am. at this point, i honestly want to start burning every dollar i see. this body is in so much pain, but i can't even afford the eyes or heart of another fellow human on this planet to give half a shit. but i want to create my own community that does not function on money. if i'm really the only person that gives a shit about this idea, then i might as well just kill myself. i'm sick of all of you chasing after the same dollar. you've forgotten that humanity is valuable, infact, you've taken the value away from us and placed it in a piece of toxic nuclear holocaust green paper. that's your fault.

i'd also like to say, i'm sick of having permanent fifth wheel syndrome, and no one even noticing. the other night, i was trying to trip on acid. this girl nikki kept teasing me, asking me all these questions, like 'have you ever had sex on acid', and when i would try to answer her, saying no i haven't, this other jackass would take her attention, and i wanted to stab him in the throat with a pen. then, she'd say 'have you ever taken a shower on acid', and when i tried to tell her that i've never been lucky enough, that asscracker had to butt in again. needless to say, my acid trip i was trying to enjoy made it really easy to feel those cuntslugs fucking about three hours before they said so, which made me fucking sick to my stomach, and of course killed my acid trip.

so guys, i'd like to point something out here. you know the term cockblocking, right? even though, as much as i truly hate that term, and how crude it is... but do any of you dumb fucks have any idea how much you've done that to me? do you scumfucks think that's fair? have i ever done it to you? do you have a wallet? are you worth anything? do you personally know mark zuckerberg? do you have michio kaku's phone number in your google contacts? fuck no you don't. so get the fuck out of my way.

and ladies, i could tell you in so many ways how truly blind you are to any of this shit. and me. are any of you ever going to notice me, and how heartbreaking it is to feel so invisible to you. are you ever going to give a shit about anything but yourselves. too many of you ladies are complete and total sluts to every wrong idiot guy on this fucking planet, every half toasted pile of fucking clone plastic, every short haired, empty suit fuckin' phony, every talentless, heartless lugnut you can find... except me. why do you have to do that. why do you have to pursue all the wrong guys, and completely ignore the good ones. what the fuck is wrong with you. would you like me to show you the size of my cock, and how fast my tongue moves? cause i know that dickweed that the girl nikki fucked didn't have a fucking wallet, so what are you looking for?

i'm sick of all this shit. and if i can't create a positive community around me of people who might give half a fuck about me or any of my ideas, i might as well take a rocket ship into outer space with motley fuckin' crue. people tell me some of the dumbest superstitious things when i ask them what i'm doing wrong. and i'm sick of hearing it. i'm a scientist, ladies. figure that out.

i exist on evidence. proof. truth. i breathe logic. i speak poetry. if you can't understand that, then go back to fucking school. stop blaming me for all the things you don't understand in this world. instead, you could realize that i have been a people watcher for the last thirty years, and you might ask me, you might like to hear some of the things i've observed about you fuckers that i guarantee none of you want to hear. go ahead and blame me, i'll take the scapegoat role for a little longer, till i plant that little concept in your heads, lick this little dream delusion into your visual cortex with my lizard tongue.

anyone have any clue who i am yet? anyone curious?