four twenty

okay. what can i get off my chest today, so i can enjoy the day. i feel invisible. other things that are hard to explain and people never understand. but i feel invisible. on a day when i should be visible by someone. actually, i don't know what else to say at the moment. i had some thoughts last night, but as soon as i opened the voice recorder on my phone, my brain just shut up, and now it won't talk to me. it's like my brain's even pissed at me for never being heard. i keep meeting more and more people who seem to hear me, and then they still just vanish. i exploded yesterday to a lady, and she actually acknowledged that she heard that the louder i screamed, the louder reality got to shut my voice out. she heard it. no one's ever peered through my eyes before, and seen my invisible little world that way. i feel bad for yelling. i think i scared little and her sister. when are people going to stop being creeped out by me, and just realize they have to take me the way i come, i can't become more them to make myself appeal to them anymore than i can stand rap. i wish someone could understand that. i know what the fuck you all listen to, i've heard it so many times i could sell it to you, since when is being unique a bad thing. when you ladies are ready to date a guy with... i don't know... good taste in music... you let me know. when you kids are ready to listen to music that puts hair on your balls, you come find me. till then, i've got headphones, and i like being unnoticed in such a painful way.

stop seeing only the negative in me. i'm sitting there on hippie hill trying to radiate positive energy and all my hopes and dreams all around me, and be a magnet of positive energy, attracting people or at least their eyes in my direction, almost like i did with a psychic once, waving this big bright telepathic white light hand out of the top of my head, saying 'pick me for the free reading', but i still could not be more invisible. the trench coat is a joke, people. it's my second skin, it's my colour, it's what i feel comfortable in, i don't like your clothes and your colours, and your style, i've got my own, thank you, i'd like it to be appreciated as unique and not creepy, but that being said, the trench coat doesn't mean you should see me as a walking black hole, that's a sarcastic joke, too, poking fun at the awkwardness of society, it does not mean i'm full of negative energy. yes, i've got some anger issues i need to work on, but that's better handled with love, not alienation and separation, and yes, i post angry things online that are always misunderstood, but no one has enough love in their hearts to see through the negative in my words to find all the bright radiating positive and potential to be loved and appreciated by the right eyes. i even begin some of my stories by saying that i'm sick of talking about my negative past, and i'd rather talk about a more positive future, but then if i say the slightest negative thing about my past to inform people, they still call me on it later, like they're telling me something i don't know, and i need to be educated, because i'm being too negative around positive people trying to have a good time. yeah, i'm trying to have a good time, too, which is why i phrased it that way, you douche, thanks for pointing it out again, like i'm such an asshole i need to be called out constantly for being such an asshole, thank you, but yes, i said i was already aware of the fact that it sounds negative, and that i sound negative, which is why i started out with the positive... goddamnit, does this shit have to be explained this many times to people who still walk away, do i have to keep repeating this shit this many fucking times, lord, seriously, is there no better way to be heard by someone with ears in this fucking world, i don't even have a god to talk to, or an imaginary fuckin' friend, fucking nothing, i've got my music to share with no one, i've got blogs, i've said my blog line so many fucking times, i could cough it up in alphabet soup after inhaling. what the fuck. yes, i started off saying i know my past is negative, thanks for pointing it out again, like i wasn't fucking aware, asshole. yeah, yes, i'm a negative asshole, nirvana already did that song, fuckin' machine head covered it, i used to own that cover, i could download it again illegally, what the fuck do you want from me! i'm tired of plastering on a fake smile for you people to appeal to your fears, instead of speaking my truth the way it comes out, and not worrying about how fragile you are, and how easily you get offended, and how quickly i overwhelm your fragile little eggshell mind as i'm telling you that i am the acid trip, yes, i know it's a big concept to get, but if i did it, and you listened, and your minds could handle it like i have faith they can, then we could have a worldwide four twenty party like this every fucking day, we could never have to worry about another dollar or empty belly ever again, we could unlock god if you could just give me enough acid to get my neck to pop, am i seriously the only one who thinks this shit, and if i am, then you're goddamn right i'm bill hicks, and you fuckers shouldn't have forgotten about him, he tried to get you away from those fuckin' products the first time, but hell, he just became another fuckin' product to you, and i saw that when i saw a spam message posted as a comment on a youtube video clip of bill hicks doing the marketing and advertising bit, like their own little demonic fuck you to a great unicorn dreamer spirit that chose not to leave this world behind... yeah, i get that that's alot to comprehend, that's why i've been patient with you people for twenty years now, but i'm getting bored, and lonely, hence my people issues, i'm hating money more and more each day i don't have what i need to enjoy life, while i watch the rest of you fuckers enjoy life without having to look at this hideous darkness, i want to start burning every dollar i see, literally, that's not part of the joke, that's my frustration at your deaf ears supported with credit excuses and choices of what products you can buy when i'm the best fuckin' product you can't buy, but trust me, i'm being hopeful and positive, and trying desperately to radiate that, but all you fuckers see is the black trench coat, and think what america wanted you to think when they had two little snotbrained fuckin' teenagers with too much energy drink and vaginaless videogame angst blast the shit out of a school fifteen fuckin' years ago, which means you all have forgotten the point that 'bowling for columbine' made as well, because it wasn't a popular enough or promoted enough product, which means you'll buy whatever the advertising demons will sell you, that's all you see when you look at me, and i fucking know it by the look in your eye, and how quickly you all get creeped out and walk away, you think i'm fuckin' stupid? i'm a people watcher, you fucking roaches!!! i honestly want to get on a stage and tell people i'd like to try a little experiment, and before i give them any part of me or my words, just ask them to shout out for as long and randomly as they want, what they think when they look at me. because none of you see bill hicks. none of you see anything about the trench coat, pre columbine in your history books. what are you using your phones for, if you all have the exact same collection of music on each clone. and to think, i want to create a core operating system, where you get to basically create your own operating system, own your own desktop, create your own computing environment without the control that windows and all those fishcracks force onto your goddamnit people, uniqueness is not a bad thing!!! wake the fuck up!!!

i imagine that girl having a computer where her ozztek menu is a flower with a little bee flying around it, and when she mouses over the flower, the menu appears in a colourful little scroll thing, with a beautiful glittery font, and she can choose to open chrome, or play her music, or write in her journal, right from that first menu, or she can customize whatever the fuck she wants at any moment... or, i know that's blowing your mind, but hang on, there's more... order now, and this guy will be able to make an iron man themed desktop, with his ozztek button looking like a rusted mechanical gear, and when you mouse over it, the gears move inside, and you have to click on it to get one menu, where he can order his daily pizza hut motel loner special, or watch free anal porn, or, if he right clicks the button, he gets to browse the internet, or browse victoria's secret for purple panties with pink letters that say 'heartbreaker', like my wife used to wear. i know, far fuckin' out there, right? don't let anyone steal that idea, you know it's got ozztek written all over it. but anyway, back to the whole trench coat thing. prior to columbine and matrix have been wiped from your memories by the wrong media choices, and you don't understand that. fuck the media, make a choice of your own. fuck the task bar and the start menu, if you want your clock on the top left corner of your desktop, you should be able to control that, and no plastic fuckmaggot on earth named bill gates or mark suckmybag or zack fuckyerburger or alien ipod öyster cult leader nazi clone number three should be able to tell you fuckin' good heapin' loads of fruity pebble rainbow weed horse shit gift baskets of fuck gluttony not to! do you need someone to tell you that??? yes, i like my words, no one else says that shit! can someone else appreciate them without needing to see a price tag attached? is that too much to ask of these creatures that traded their hearts for credit cards? i don't fuckin' think it should be, but this concrete reality tells me every day that it is that way, and they have so many ridiculous paper excuses justifying why it has to stay that way, yes, i get it, wash it through my fuckin' brain one more time though, i'm not sure i've got it memorized verbatim just yet, oh, wait, do we need to look up the word verbatim, well shit, i've just lost half my brain, we've gotta start over, but first, chuck has to take a shit, that one cost him a burrito.

relax.

fuckin' breathe, or i'm gonna shove a nugget down your smoke stack fuckin' steak house. you're yelling at me telling me to relax. you're the idiot, it's already on my fuckin' blog, beatcha to it.

thought of a funny yesterday. walk up to someone and call them... 'fuckin' bowl packer!'.

what a good day that could start, huh? fuckin' bowl packer!

yeah, i'll pack yer fuckin' bowl!

oh, you can pack my own all night long!

and then you get a chain of laffter going.

here's a game no one's tried in twenty years. lay in a circle, on your backs, to where each person's head is laying on another person's belly, in a chain. and you lay there, and person number one says 'ha!' once, and then person number two says 'ha!' twice, and then person number three says 'ha! ha! ha!', and you keep going until someone can't... you know... keep their cookies. especially if there's refer in that madness. there, there's some free fun you can have, no dollar required.

now, back to the trench coat thing, cause i feel like i need to get past this. my wife looked right past my trench coat and penetrated my eyes, straight into my soul, like no other set of eyes ever could. you can't tell me she's the only woman capable of doing that. if so, that's one boring fuckin' world, and i ain't partied yet. she leaned in my car window, dove into my heart, defining love at first sight, and didn't give a fuck about my layer of tank armor. if none of you ever get that rush in your lives, what the fuck are you spending so much money for? facebook ain't doin' shit, i can prove that with a pipe and a couple nipples, you don't need to do a national poll study for that one.

columbine wasn't the definition of trench coats. neo wasn't the be all end all of trench coated superheroes. you have any clue how many teenagers i've had walk up to me and say 'hey, you're like the matrix!'. thanks for stating the painfully obvious again, kid, run along now. thank you, i already own that movie, there's more out there, but yeah, sure, have a beer, kid, fuck it. i'll do the neo dance for you like the fuckin' jukebox i wasn't in my last life, hooo, there we go, i feel better. or how many black ladies with eyegouging nails pointing in dangerous directions in ptsd minefields i've run into who have to say like broken records, 'hey, you like them columbine crackers, you got a twelve gauge under there?', good lord, no, hunny, i'm nonviolent actually, those idiots were retarded, i hate guns, i think all weapons and bibles should be tossed into a volcano, or left in los angeles when it hits the bottom of the ocean, with justin blooper's fuckin' overfluffed product wig, anyone here feel like playing a tool record? i think i hear bill hicks laffing over here, there's a fairy leading me this way, see you on smoke cloud number nine in heaven's smoking section.

i used to buy copies of bill hicks' live dvd, because i'd loan one out to a friend, and never get it back, but i'd miss watching it myself, so i'd just gladly tell them to keep it while i already ordered a new one... poverty fuckin' sucks. you have no idea the gifts i'd love to give you all, but they aren't valuable to you, just like nuthing i say is valuable to you, i know because you keep walking away.

if i had a dime for every time you walked away, you could bet your bottom dollar, i'd be filthy rich by noon today...

that's a line from an incubus song no one's ever heard. just look at the view count on youtube. i bet you can't even google it.

no, i'm not like the columbine idiots. bill hicks already did that joke, actually, talking about that very thing. two men on acid jumped off a building, what a tragedy.

what a dick. fuck him, that moron's ruining it for everyone, and he should be made an example out of, not being used to set an example of those of us who didn't fucking jump! get him off the news, spray enough acid at the screen to wipe his face off that fuckin' glass mirror tube, he's a fuckin' waste, we should be glad he's gone, he's no longer here fuckin' it up for everyone, yeah, let's fuckin' celebrate! fuck cnn, they do not dictate your reality! timothy leary said that one.

if your dead heroes came back and quizzed you on the last twenty years, i think they'd yak. that's just my personal opinion. maybe i'm wrong. hell, i hope i am. is that not positive enough for you?

you don't realize, you shiny happy people enjoying your shiny happy world are oblivious to the fact that anyone could hate these products, because they taste so wonderful, and all the pretty colours, i'm sick of it. i'm wondering why you're not. i'm trying to be positive, but in you only seeing the negative because of what society has taught you, to hate and fear the trench coat, instead of what anything prior to those movies has taught you, like the old westerns that bill hicks used to watch, as he was dreaming of being that lone hero, spreading knowledge and fearlessness wherever it is needed, you never saw that video? fuckin' it's free on youtube, what the fuck pop product crap are you searching for? i'll give you a little browsing tip: don't click the recommended crap. or the advertisements. i know they have the excuse that 'well it pays to keep the website there', no it doesn't, wikipedia does just fine, shut the fuck up.

watch a fucking bill hicks video for free on youtube, would you? educate yourselves for four twenty? enlighten yourselves? perhaps even... i don't know... laff? that's not illegal yet, is it? how much does it cost to laff these days?

goddamnit.

i shouldn't have to say this shit, but god tells me i do. not your god, my god, the one who never returns my calls. other people find five bucks on the street, i've found so many empty cigarette packs, i could recycle them through my teeth and digitally print a five dollar bill out my ass. i can only do fives and ones, though, you rich fucks are out of luck. i'm the five dollar robbin' hoodlum. you can't catch me, cause there's an elf distracting you, and a leprechaun about to steal your pot o' gold weed, cause my daughter owns the fuckin' raynebow. and i copyrighted that.

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

my wife loved that.

i wish someone could see my positive and use it as an excuse to bring a smile out of me, rather than seeing the negative and using it as an excuse to walk away from that creepy weirdo in black cause he never smiles, well, maybe he never smiles cause no one fucking looks at him, and people keep walking away from him, kinda like how a fish might feel when you keep pulling him out of the water, and throwing him back, like he's not good enough for that weird heaven of twisty light above my bubble head. poetry is a lost tongue among the product fed.

i saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness. starving, hysterical, naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn, looking for an angry fix. angel headed hipsters, burning for the ancient, heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night...

throughout human history, as our species has faced the frightening, terrorizing fact, that we do not know who we are, or where we are 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...

i never forgot about my heroes. and i'm proud of that. that's the positivity radiating from me most of every day, until you fuckers point out my negativity by trench coat observation alone, and piss me off, and then blame it all on me, like i was an asshole in the first place, just like my family was so fuckin' good at, which triggers my ptsd about the issues, which is why i've said so many times that i'm sick of talking about my negative past, and wanting to talk about positive future topics, and writing all this horrid vile puke shit on a fuckin' blog no one will ever read. now that i actually said all that, can you stop claiming that you said it first? just to make me look dumber than you?

cause i guarantee you i'm not. i can spell the word guarantee. i don't listen to music that's too popular, and i think you all should move in that direction, but seven billion people are more comfortable with their cloned security... god, please. is it too much to find a fellow deftones fan here? the band themselves are only a couple stones and a bowl away in sacrafuckin'mento, machine head's right across the bridge, motley crue is rockin' something down in los bad angles. wrong directions to the right fuckin' party, if you know what i mean. my friends brad and andy, and no, not brandy together, were driving through a reservation looking for a local death metal show many years ago, and brad sticks his head out the window at one point, proudly exclaiming that we're lost in the middle of desert death dirt nofuckin'where and could use some help please, by shouting in a metal slayer voice 'big wompum noise!'.

that's called humour. you can download it on youtube, but i prefer the collection i had, and i'd love to share it with you, if you all could spare a fuckin' dollar already!!!

when your wallet rots in your hand like the delusion it was, can you finally fuckin' call me and let me know. fuckin' tweet me, i'd love that. to not get an automated fuckin' message, i could play reruns of ren and stimpy jumping for 'joy!'. which, by the way, i once won a game of scrabble against my grandmother with, by getting thirty nine points for the word joy in the upper right corner of fuck you ville, grandma. you old fuckin' cancerous nonsmoker. fuckin' trash bag.

if she had smoked... my mother would still be smiling... with teeth.

i'm bill hicks, and i'm reincarnated now, and i smoked so much in my past life that my mother in this life needed a fuckin' tracheotomy. no joke.

thank you, i'll be here all week. waiting for a microphone to find its way into my hand.

like the cover of relentless. wind blowing.

i love my future friends. those who aren't overwhelmed by me. thank you ahead of time. although... y'all are a little behind. is it daylight slavings, or nineteen eighty five? anyone got google?