eat my yes i hate this poem

ashamed of this poem i'm syck of always having to take your no for an answer
i've had enuph of your illogical restriction factory
fuck your limitation regulation establishment
it's begging to be broken fucking down
you'll probly label me liberal or eccentric
but i prefer to say yes to my fabric of life
you only feel safe being like everyone else
you're just a pile of dead moral cow shyt
i couldn't grow a mushroom fart thought off of you
not even god would give a good goat shyt about you
you should breathe the life of yes, you moron
the exotic sigh of accomplishment and pride
be glad you got away with living outside more often
why do you cower in fear of excitement
your mind's too limited for my attention span
my hightech boogie won't receive your crap
your soul's too fragile for my concocktions
you should get high on elevation acceleration
if i were such a coward, i'd fear your god, too
he couldn't grow a mushroom cloud shyt off of you
i outgrew your moldy clothing mold long ago
but you're fascinated by your funbags of cheetos
always distracted by your fascist product gods
the jesus media is your diet pill saviour
whatever they can fucking sell you
i regurgitate your biohazard waste
i reject your radioactive prison fantasy
i am the divine deviation from your boring norm
i grew my wings of yes so long ago
i have no interest in your product copy of no
i don't need to buy into your salvation station
i want what's bleeding under that shy cloak
be brave and bold and daring and reckless
and show me that naked fucking soul
give me what i came here to see
i'm wasting my time on your stupid obstacle course
fuck your illconceived crash course in disaster
you're a wet behind the ear wet dream pipe dream
you still puke your suffocations all over me
i'll evolve gills and inhale my fucking life
i'll lung and heart my way into your treasure chest
i'll shock your passions clear back to life
show you why exhileration brand is the best
choose to say fucking one big yes to your life
feel that stupid slave chain just fade away
now go to denny's and fuck your boss's wife
i just fucked your limitations in the mouth
watch your fear clothing structure head south dead
now let's play some prince and i'll fuck your no
perhaps some barry white, no fuck you
you're not alive enuph to be seduced
just sedated enuph to be confused

chemistry

oh, it's big
it's heavy
it's been churning for a while
the tanks of evolution
the wheels of sanity
the pressure...
titus driving leary's bus
rubber burning on the foundation of hold on
this beast is growing
i'm brewing up something big
i'm cookin' up a big ole batch of watch this
if you could try to imagine
oh, if only you could see
what ingredients i've been handed
from your cabinet of dreams
your arsenal of obliteration
you bet this beast is burning
forego the complaints
i don't foresee any obstacles
i've cleaned my spectacles
this will be quite a show
it's gonna make your fuckin' teeth glow
the feet of these marching winds
fully realize
no compromise
i can feel your zombie sighs
and big cheese thighs
the eyes go right out the reality show
they're so jealous of you
lines creek when you talk
with that soul crushing walk
fragile ability to contemplate
what it took to make this great
mixtures of your own medicine
that egocream juice
get a little loose
made for one use
oh, it's mixing
it's starting to gravitate
my elation might levitate
let's stir in a little hate
chaos tv is watching me
break the fear of clearing me
gotta be this tall to ride my slide
looks like a waterpark in the dark
the big grey one's the shark
watch out, this is gonna hurt
your attitude might meet the dirt
you need a more meat diet
some sun on that skin
i'll butter your confidence and fry it
try it on a stick
it would only be this thick
i call it irony with a kick
your humour with a twist of rhyme
i'm sure you get it
it's your own special recipe
disaster, and burn it faster
the mixture's starting to boil
imagine what i'm mixing up
what this little machine has been through
look up
find what it tells you
the high wears off
the up goes down
we should make that the frontpage headline
if you look on a map
it's spelled naked on the streets
are they crying over blood spilled
let's mix some of that in there
oh, don't worry, you'll be thrilled
come on, give a toy to this little boy
running rampage spoils the tantrum
tell me, where are you from
system cynic troubles the lost
but what's a life cost?
oh, it's big
it's growing
it's thundering
soul's eye sundering
bubbling
building
quaking and shaking
oh, it's terrifying
put on your seatbelt
this is gonna be fun
let's head straight into the sun
be bold, be daring
we're going far with this one
do you know what i've been mixing up in here
can you ask my therapissed
the federal bureau of idiots
mother and the homeless fear
get back here
let's push some buttons
you've heard that delusion rhyme
storebought love in plastic wrapping
time for a tear sparkle to shine
the sign behind the wound
can you pick up where we left off
what carnival is it
what theory is here
where did the thought split
who's in my head
what are you focused on now
what question could i ask
free to travel where you own
can you wander, can you roam
tell me, what would they say
if they knew your question was a lie
if they heard your prayer at beddybye
let's mix that in there
all the hard truth
of who you are
who am i
road's going where goats lie
where angels cry and fears die
off the beaten path
onto bloody dreams
only the strong survive
poverty diets find the means
is your story what it seams
cracks don't hide the screams
what this mixture could do
oh, what i'll be seeing
the recipe in this eye
and when that drop hits
all that will be left of you
stammering residue with no clue
seeing nuthing but a bitter blue
smoke and ash
written tears on headstones
dust and lies
a yawning you (disaster in lines)
stories of yes
days of grey
remnants of fragments
what would they say
champagne and limousines
dripping little pink things
matching images would say
inconveniences or catastrophies
halfhead walking dead
children with trophies
invention sequence countdown
systematic clusterfuck
what would your dreams look like
naked in the rayne
crying
shameful
as the walls crumble down
what would it look like
when the dust settled
what would my tears say
to you
what invention there in the grey
hurting in blue on a bad day
written in bloody clues
please, i beg of you
look closer
there in the smoke
what words do those scars resemble
it looks like it screams true
'i succeeded
i soared
i flew
fuck you'

drop out

i quit my job, and i'm never going back to that mutherphukin greedy ass dollar hoggin'
pencil pushing paper shredding cocksucking dickweed boss of mine
never going back to that goddamn syck stoopid waste of time
cause i think i can be so much more than any job could ever make me
catch a dream in the sky, and take a ride, i think i could be so much more
never gonna work in another corporate ratmaze cubikal box again
never gonna work for another greedy ass criminal, mutherphuking corporate whore
i dropped out of skool, i never wanna go back to that mutherphuking
boring ass pencil pushing paper grading test failing class ditching
only thing i learned was how to smoke and play guitar
end up wasting youth on college, and still never make it that far
cause i think i could be so much more than any skool could ever make me
i think i could learn so much more than any skool could ever teach me
i left my church, and i'm never phuking going back to that bible thumping
life sucking brain clogging mind numbing brain washing contradiction
stifling our evolution, sixty bucks for your salvation
i've had a revelation, our god is not about creation
let's start a revolution, end all this stagnation
and ascend to the digital 4.0 level in our evolution, whaddayasay?

medicated

i spæk child, i spæk in colourphul dreams
so bored, so alone without you here, so lost
i don't want your drugs, heavily medicated
i don't need your drugs, wrongfully sedated
hey god, can you cure my hatred for life?
hey man, can you give me drugs to kill my pain
hey yeah, said the rattlesnake by your feet
hey god, can you numb my animosity
hey man, can you kill the world around me?
hey jezus, can you drop your healing blood
from your wrists, down onto me
hey god, can you show me where i went wrong?
backstage pass, for the ghost of øzzmas past
just walk alone
my child of the rayne
and spæk to no one
spæk alone
my child of the wind
and walk with no one
hey god, can't you please my burning fist?
hey doc, can't you medicate my sadness?
hey man, can't you see where we went wrong?
hey judge, can't you give me just one more try?
hey god, can't you give us one more chance?
hey drugs, these people aren't listening to me
hey doc, am i too heavily medicated?
hey god, why can't they hear me?
hey drugs, get this voice out of my head
so walk alone, my child of the rayne
give your mind to no one

superficial

i wish i could reach inside you, communicate with you
but you watch the same empty.v muzik videos everyday
you stare thoughtless into the same cnn box
reading your tabloids between commercial breaks
charge me three lives for one breath of inspiration
hatred and fear are your only in.greed.ients
you thrive on attention to your ignorance
the rails, the trails, my stomach can't take anymore
i spit up the phire and vile inside me
turning blood to fuel, bone to steel
my heart becomes my phÿting phist
you cannot trust anyone, no one to confide
my insanity becomes your muzikal cyanide
turning black to blue, hell to heaven
my death becomes my only weapon
don't challenge me to rise above
don't underestimate the strength of love
turning void to overjoyed, changing in time is a peace of mind
it's so easy to look down at you, when you're six feet under me
but you make everything so much bigger than you are
turning voice to venom, brain to warhead
my pain becomes my voting pen
my life becomes my dying voice
turning pain to passion, flame to flesh
my hopelessness becomes my inner strength
turning water to wishes, piss to wine
i'm my own personal jezus christ

invisible

i'm not even sure i say the right things lately.
i'll bet you twenty bucks i'm more misunderstood than you.
i just turned thirty eight.
i've been homeless for three years, traveling for two.
trying to start my own metal band.
or meet anyone who shares any of my interests.
my interests are: evolution, psychedelics, metal, comedy, nudity.
been through seattle, portland, san francisco, los angeles,
and now seattle again.
i don't like to talk about the past, i'd rather talk about the future.
i've been trying to find one single homeless lady who doesn't do drugs.
i've been trying to find a female who notices me.
i haven't been touched in two years.
i thought intellect once attracted ladies.
now, it seems like it's just cash and showered six packs.
i say humorously on dating sites,
quantum theoretical televolutionist, anarchist, metalhead,
looking for an anticapitalist, nonconformist, nonconsumer.
i don't think anyone even reads that part.
i've cut my introduction down to that.
people like me,
who'd rather smell like a human than a plastic product.
who'd rather make a choice of their own than be a clone.
don't seem to exist anymore.
am i lost?
or did i miss the sixties?
i think it sucks that timothy leary is dead.
i think it sucks that bill hicks is dead.
i think it sucks that george carlin is dead
i think it sucks that allen ginsberg is dead.
i think it sucks that terence mckenna is dead.
i think it sucks that robert anton wilson is dead.
hell, i think it sucks that einstein and gandhi aren't around.
i'd rather have conversations with dead people.
perhaps i missed the bus.
where are my fuckin' friends?
and why is that moon so tiny?
is there some reason i'm only finding the wrong people?
even on fetlife; i haven't talked to a human in years.
it seems like i mostly get immature responses from guys.
do women still exist? or do i sound really stupid here?
this american coma...
it seems like love has been outlawed.
touch is something i can't afford.
warmth is a precious commodity.
am i completely out of touch?
have i lost reality?
i see hospital beds and intravenous mayonnaise...
god television in the sky raining products on fish hooks...
bloody chunks of soul on dollars being carried back up...
and the pyramid above it...
anyone else see that?
so many of us...
left hand hanging on for dear life...
mouth hooked up to the consumption tube...
little screen in front of us...
right hand sticking the credit card into the slot...
has love been outlawed?
is it too expensive to be touched?
is warmth illegal?
is it really this cold?
do i sound completely insane?
my heart can't take this anymore.
i sit panhandling and wonder how ugly must i be.
the miserable frowning people in denial.
makes me want to disintegrate.
i'm looking for a lady who doesn't give a shit about money.
a metalhead would be nice.
smart enough to know how to spell properly.
polite enough to know when to apologize.
are my standards too high? or too low?
am i asking too much? or asking the wrong questions?
am i completely fucking alien?
can i even be translated on google?
someone who's not stuck in that moth trap television,
that would be wonderful, please, thank you.
cause my third eye is seeing a world where...
well... a bunch of naked people everywhere...
i can smell weed...
not a credit card to be seen...
no concrete, no plastic...
i think i hear tool playing...
no television, no bad drugs, higher intellectual standards...
no violence, no weapons, no badges, no excuses...
wait, didn't john lennon say something about that?
yeah, where's that place?
google maps, get me from the playpen of doom,
to wherever they're building utopia,
can i teleport yet?
fuck.
i hear bill hicks saying 'yeah, millennials said 'fuck that road''.
i can even see the crayon misspellings etched on my eye.
if you bet that you were more misunderstood...
i think you owe me twenty bucks.
you can paypal it to me.
my name gee mailed. huh. four squared and twenty beers later... heheh.
what the fuck is this guy talkin' about?
i'm wondering the same thing myself.
in a world of automated responses...
and misspelled crayon insults...
where are the humans?

hello, earth

welcome to evolution hotline!
i'm ozzy draven, soon to be founder and ceo of ozztek industries, doing my own homeless field research to end poverty worldwide in one big shot. i'm also the world's first quantum theoretical televolutionist at evolution hotline, because televangelists have had their time.
i've been homeless for three years, traveling for two, through seattle, portland, san francisco, los angeles (big mistake), and back up here (thankfully), trying to start my own metal band. i'm also trying to start doing open mics, as well as gathering homeless ideas and information here, to get a little organization behind homelessness, so some of us actually get helped out.
i've got a ton of ideas, like turning homelessness into a reality television game show, where homeless people get to demonstrate their talents, (dis)abilities, and willingness to rebuild their lives, and sponsors and donors get to choose the ones they want to rescue, it's better than rescuing a dog. though, some of the homeless people, you might have to treat like dogs, meaning, if they chew up your couch, don't beat the shit out of them with a newspaper, forgive them, teach them, and feed them. we're just like any traumatized dog, we need love, not more abuse.
another idea, is to hire a homeless ambassador (or several) who's capable of spending lots of time searching craigslist for rooms, cars, etc, freecycle, handup, couchsurfing.com, tracking down doctors and therapists, life recovery coaches, any type of sponsor or people willing to donate anything, and making sure it all gets to the right people, by having those people put their needs on lists (they can even be anonymous if they want, have a codename or number), keep an online community where homeless people can ask questions and find resources, and i've always wanted a much more... real time approach to information. i've always pictured a chatroom, where at any one time of any day, there are at least five or six smart, techie, geek type people in the chatroom answering questions. from anything you could google, to anything you could ask carl sagan. and tons of other ideas.
if i can start getting some attention and meeting the right people through open mics, and start a metal band, once i release my first album, i want to kick out the first book, and then try to get ozztek industries started, to design my own computer from the ground up, cause i'm sick of microsoft telling me what i can and can't do on my own desktop. i want to design a computer the way a computer should have been designed in the first place, where each user has full complete control over their own entire desktop environment, you can make it look and work the way you want.
i also want to start my own religion. evolutionism. make it an actual, tax exempt, legitimate religion. use it for two main things; draw a very thick, bold, permanent line between psychedelic and psychotic states of mind. so people can finally understand where i stand. i'm strictly psychedelic. and it's not just the religious sacraments, it's everything associated with it; i.e. peace, love, harmony, equality, balance, serenity, forgiveness, nature, logic, common sense, intellect, humor, evolution. and of course, everything psychotic is the opposite, from bad drugs, to television, bibles, weapons, violence, fear, products, plastic popular stupid shit, credit cards, money, clothing... you get the idea. anything that keeps you living in a bubble instead of living yourself. and the other thing i want to do with my religion, is start a new community, somewhere in the woods in canada or somewhere where there's good weather, no natural disasters, lots of greenery and water, and just start over. from scratch. new monetary system based on forgiveness, common sense, not greed and selfishness and fascism and surveillance.
got a joke for ya. it's possibly the funniest joke of all time. ready?
republicans.
got another joke for ya. what do ladies call bill gates when they see him naked?
microsoft.
you know that plasticy material they make smart phones out of these days? i wanna get nasa to start mass producing that stuff, and build portable, high tech homes out of them, and give them away to the homeless people for free. that's stage two of ozztek industries.
i want to make new genres of metal. i want to have several bands, that go in several different directions. my favourite bands are: devin townsend, delain, deftones, disarmonia mundi... that's just in the 'd' category. sonic syndicate/the unguided, machine head, otep, raintime, sirenia, the birthday massacre, theatre of tragedy, enya. i don't care much for popular shit, i tend to stick to the dark heavy stuff. think black sabbath, not led zeppelin. i like knowing stuff about music that the american coma walking credit tard clones don't know about. i want to be as heavy, fast, and furious as strapping young lad's city. sometimes as morbid as meshuggah and deicide. while still keeping a melodic flow with a kickin' beat to everything. i've never cared much for guitar solos and egotistical shit. i like music that gets your attention, and doesn't repeat and bore the shit out of you like marilyn manson, songs that change, not the 'verse, chorus, verse, chorus, solo, chorus, end' structure like every metallica song. i don't like default anything, hell, i'm into desktop customization. i want songs that take you on journeys, and still breathe life into you. i want to create a genre of metal called 'visceral cerebral metal'. another called 'metamusical alien metal'. maybe even 'theoretical chemist metal'. all sorts of shit, cause i think metal has gotten boring with trying to limit themselves to the attention of the radio. i want to make metal easier to evolve.
i want to make movies. one of the first movies i want to make, is a movie about a world without money. and just have a few writers try and think of what life might be like in a world without a monetary system of any kind, nor the necessity for one. another movie i want to make is a movie called 'wingman'. have a whole set of rules and everything for a 'buddy system' way to get girls. throw some comedy in there, some romance, and the geeky kid, and you've got yourself a blockbuster. paul rudd has to be in there somewhere.
i also like the x-men movies, and the avengers movies, you know where, in the first avengers, when loki comes to enslave humanity... and at the end, the cia always saves the day, and life goes back to the way it was. or x-men apocalypse, where the ancient mutant dude almost destroys all the superpowers and makes the world safe for evolution... and the cia saves the day and everything goes back to the way it was. and you hear r.e.m.'s 'it's the end of the world as we know it', and you see steve carrell's mugly, and vince vaughn's voice over, and the guy always gets the girl at the end, no matter what the story... you ever wonder how a society might get conditioned in the first place? i want to see the movies where loki does enslave humanity, or apocalypse does take over... and damnit, if stan lee won't right those stories, i will. i want to make those movies. what happens after this? what happens after the change. even in the movie twenty twelve, with john cusack, you don't see much at the end. hey, it's a new world finally, time to roll credits... what? where's the sequel? i wanna see what happens next! so i wanna make those movies. and all sorts of movies with the concept of a moneyless world. just people actually coexisting without fear of eachother, without reason to hurt eachother. john lennon's world, basically. utopia. i don't think science fiction has stretched its imagination far enough.
anyway, without babbling. i also want to collect a bunch of homeless ideas and information here, and have this be like a resource... source for information and crap. yeah, that needs rephrasing. anyway. so here are some of my favourite homeless signs i've seen or made:
betcha can't hit me with a burger.
bet you a dollar you read my sign.
my wife left me for my girlfriend, but don't worry, they're both eating good tonight.
my wife had a better lawyer.
this sign smiles for free. (you gotta draw the word smile in the shape of a smile).
this sign can afford to smile, why can't you?
would you like fries with that?
apparently, one of my signs went viral.
the best nation is a donation.
help wanted! jobs blow!
will work in the nude.
will work for nood.
( . )( . ) do these work?
will smoke for weed.
if you can give a shit, i'll give you three fucks.
stop! in the name of food! before you kill the mood! (it's even funnier if you get up and dance infront of a family of tourists, and put your hand up and shout, 'stop! (and start shaking your ass) in the name of food! before you see me nude!).
my pen vs your wallet.
help! i can't afford a better sign!
my sign kicked your honor student's ass.
my sign made your mom smile.
i'm too ugly to panhandle. (personal favourite).
gitcher truck stuck in the mud? nope, he saw you comin' and dug his way to his own grave! here's yer sign!
i vote that we abolish poverty.
mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be homeless! (gotta have a southern accent).
all change is good change!
i gladly accept cash in the form of credit, debit, sandwiches and smiles! (also hugs and nugs, gift cards, paypal, be creative).
kicked out of mensa for being a smart ass.
penn and teller made me do it. (think outside the rabbit hat on that one).
i froze my ass off! if you see my ass, tell him to get home!
stifler!
donations go to my weed fund charity.
please! spare any weed? (seems to get a lot of smiles).
to trump obama, legalize panhandling next!
my boss was a bigger prick, you owe me twenty bucks.
homeless ideas for sale! one dollar!
and, finally, here's (what i think is) a bunch of mandatory educational material for homeless people. it's good to stay informed, educate yourself. these are just a few things i've seen that have enlightened me, and helped create some of these ideas.
idiocracy, zeitgeist, infowars, in time, limitless, lucy, fight club, dmt: the spirit molecule (fascinating), american drug war: the last white hope, lucky number slevin, god, it feels like i'm forgetting half the list. anything terence mckenna says, comedy by bill hicks, george carlin, sam kinison, denis leary, christopher titus (especially), lewis black, chris rock, ron white. books like the god delusion by richard dawkins, angels don't play this haarp, stepping into the aquarian age, psilocybin mushrooms of the world.
my life was destroyed all through twenty thirteen. i started traveling in june of twenty fourteen. my mother passed away by june of twenty fifteen. i've got two kids i'm trying to get back. i'm glad my life was destroyed, i wanted to be a rockstar for twenty years now, and that's exactly what i should have been doing. so i'm not wasting one more day. if you know anyone trying to start a metal band, or anyone good at programming computers, or anyone with a spot of carpet they'd like me to keep warm this winter... email me.
people with homes can say, 'i rolled out of bed this morning'...
homeless people? i stumbled out of the concrete!
so. this is evolution hotline. if you have any questions, that's what this site is for. leave comments, questions, ideas, phone numbers, emails, poems, informations, ideas, digitations, evolutionating theories, skeptical inquiries, whatever you want. just no delusions and mass hysteria, keep that shit to the other social networks like twitter. this is for poor people, so no fucking ads! no censorship, no politics, no rejection... you get the idea. i'm an anarchist, evolutionist, metalhead, pothead, nudist, father of two, and mainly a writer and professional thinker. i miss my mother. my interests are evolution, psychedelics, metal, comedy, nudity. i have a doctorate in evolution, i have a doctorate in psychedelics, and a master's degree in being a smart ass. i prescribe massive doses of standup comedy to everyone, it's a human requirement to have a good level of jelly in your belly, and a little jiggle in your giggle. tickle your funny bone often. funny bone's connected to the heart bone. don't go gutter on me. my eyes are up there. and the third one's already building utopia, so he's only getting smoke signals and telepathy.
and one more thing. if it seems like i'm hateful and angry, that's because the moment sucks, and i'm sick of talking about the past, and 'where are you from', i'm sick of small talk, there's a lot of things about this american coma society that i hate, like coffee, starfucks, rap music, plastic mannequin people with credit cards, bad drugs, popular shit, television... which is why i'm literally trying to invent my way out of here for good. it's not about the moment now and my hatred and negativity for it that you should be worried about, or offended by, or scared of. it's my love for a better future i wish anyone could find attractive and motivating and inspiring. my ambitions, my dreams, my goals, i'm waiting for someone to find those valuable, i'm waiting to be appreciated, not ignored and told what to do, who to be, how to act, how to dress, what to say. kicked to the side. people have gotten pissed at me before, when discussing this stuff, and asked me, 'what the fuck are you expecting to hear then?'. so i've been thinking about that for a while.
here's what i'd love for someone to say to me:
hey, dude, i understand. i feel the same way you do. i play drums/guitar/whatever, care to hang out?
or even just the minimal:
hey, dude, i'm a pothead, too. plus i have tits and no inhibitions (that part's even optional), wanna smoke a bowl?
or even this:
hey, i have no fears, and i hate the television. wanna text?
or hell, this would be unimaginably helpful:
hey, i produce records, and i know robb flynn, gene hoglan, and otep shamaya. here's otep's phone number, she's expecting you...
fuck, i'd be blown away at that last one. holy shit, it happened...?
so yeah. to all the childish pricks on fetlife... that's what i've been hoping to hear from a fellow human. not your grade school insults and ob(li)vious unacceptance of anything to different. is that positive enough for everyone? did i piss anyone off that time? is there anyone who misunderstands any little fragmental chunk of that? does it sound simple enough to put on youtube? did i phrase that positively enough? did i say anything wrong?
okay. so. that being finally gotten out of me so i don't grow a chunk of cancer... how do i end this now... with a bumpersticker and a few other educational resources, and just some of my preferences in life. so you know me, and don't offer me coffee.
i want to make a bumpersticker: concrete is earth cancer.
more educational material for the homeless: bill hicks, terence mckenna, timothy leary, robert anton wilson, joseph campbell, michio kaku, i miss my book collection. it felt like a severed head trying to remember all the shit i lost. even a lifetime of my own writings and ideas, you wanna talk about trauma, wait till this head grows back, then we'll talk lizard tales. you ever stop to think and forget to start again? happens to me all the time.
i've got complex ptsd, i'm easily triggered when sober, i hate sobriety, i don't think it should be inflicted on everyone, that's just my opinion, but hey, i can have it. anyway. i don't drink coffee, i like hot chocolate. i'm straight, i'd rather date jenny and the bets. i'm antisocial and about as socially awkward as a blind lesbian in a fish market. i've got three blogs, two deviantart pages, to facebooks, a fetlife, a twitter, zero watchers, and a partridge'd family in a dead fuckin' tree. i've been online since the internet was born. i only wear three shades: black, ultra black, and death. i wear trenchcoats not because neo and idiot guntoting teenagers did, but because that's how i feel comfortable. i wear skirts cause she's wearing pants and he's dragging his on the ground. i protest everything popular by being offensively unique. my mother was a revolutionary communist, and the best lesson she ever taught me, she said son, don't just learn from your own mistakes, watch the show cops. she loved the bill maher quote, 'i'm pissed off that not enough people are pissed off', and noam chomsky, 'if you're not pissed off, you're not paying attention'. or maybe that was howard zinn, it's hard to remember at this point. if there's even one name on this page you don't know, please, google it and absorb till your smile gets blasphemous. hellelujah! x-men! praise the lowered! goatcheese.
okay, so, that's the end of today's sermon, ladies and slaves... let's get naked, stoned, and watch 'paul'.
disclaimer: anything said on evolutionhotline is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me logic, and is only the opinion of the founder and ceo, and if  you have any complaints, take it up with tech support. operation sack lunch obviously lacks responsibility for this message, however, ozztek industries gladly takes full responsibility for anything evolved. this message is a work of fiction, any names and facts herein are figments of my imagination, and you're just my delusion. this message is copyright nineteen seventy eight, ozztek industries, and written in gold, stone, blood, tears and bone. this message will self destruct as soon as you read it. enjoy, and have a wonderful day! toodles!
is that fuckin' bright and shiny enough?
all these clones seem to want to hear from me is the shiny happy shit, while failing to realize, i don't do shiny happy shit cause i'm a metalhead, not a fearful, fragile weakling coward, but hey, keep telling me how to be you, cause that's what fuels my happyness.
smile!, this shit ain't real!
there is no spoon, man!

new perspectives

when you become homeless, it's not just your home you lose. they don't just take your home from you, they can destroy the sanctity of your home, they can destroy you, your dignity. these people, who... they're just idiots. your average, television watching, product buying, uneducated idiots. you can identify them by whatever product choice they talk about the most. football, wrestling, trucks, whatever advertised thing they buy into. but they have no real education, yet when you ask them for help (because they won't charge for it, and you can't pay anyone else for actual help), they claim the responsibility to help you, then they fantastically fail, and it's all your fault because you asked an idiot, so how could they, why should they claim any accountability for that. your television gets stolen, your computer gets stolen, and what can you do about it? what does anyone do about it? get a new television? bitch about it on twitter and look like a pussy? when they take thing after thing after thing until you're left with nothing, who can you tell, what can you do, where can you go? when they come in and tell you to leave your home, because they have authority, because you didn't pay whatever price, whine, whine, whine... how would you feel? who would you tell? what would you do? where would you go? if you just lost everyone you gave a fuck about... everyone who gave a fuck about you... what would you do. left alone in this world with nothing. no proof of who you are, no legitimate skills or talents, no phone numbers, no education, disconnected from society, and unrecognizable. what would you do. and the amazing truth of it is, this needs to happen to all product buying idiots, so that they too can figure out what life is about on this planet. so they can see that pyramid scheme for what it truly is. a pyramid. in the sky. raining products out of it on fishhooks. little bloody chunks of soul going back up. signatures. paper, plastic, credit, cash, clones, and concrete. assembly lines, factory fog, mass produced, shipped and labeled, defined, assimilated, all put into your place in that pyramid by price brackets. layers and levels of control, secrecy, withholding of knowledge, ownership of ideas, obedience, dominance, and the unknowing acceptance of the fact that the people above you don't want you to truly figure out that there's people above you. no matter how much of a metaphor you think it is, there's still something you're not seeing. and losing a house will do that to you. trauma will open a perception, a perspective, just as well as the psychedelics that you deny exist on this planet for a reason, so yeah, i can see how that would be hard for you to figure out. if that's obvious to me, and not you, could i get a psychiatrist infront of a judge please, and get either of them to say that there is obviously one side here that's not being understood by the other side, cause i could use that to create my own religion, community, government, nonmonetary system, and get the fuck away from you morbid, twisted fucks once and for all. get far away from that television god of yours. you don't see it because you have a home. i see it because i do not have a home. i see you buying products and smiling and affording to ignore me. when you can no longer afford to ignore the truth, it will hit you just as hard. you need to understand that. what i see is the cycle between the products that you call 'god', 'television', and 'money'. they tell you there's a separation between church and state, so how come religions are tax exempt? the less you question, the more they get away with. how come they seem to own the economy, the federal reserve, money itself, how come they tell you to say fifty hail marys when you get something for free, how come they're the ones. do you never ask yourself? do you seriously not have that curiosity inside you? how the fuck do you think a pyramid stands? do i have to explain it to you? they taught this shit in elementary physics when the pyramids were the cool hang out spot. do you truly not know where you've come from? do you really not care? you're a human, but whatever that human shit is, fuck it, i'd rather work at a starbucks and misspell everything and talk like i'm fragile and clueless. dude, you're stumbling over all the history we're diggin' through, asshole. no wonder we found lucy before some idiot turned her into dust. is this what we're so proud of? letting people live on the streets because we can legally use the excuse that we don't know them? fuck that, they're a human with two legs, it doesn't matter if your identification verification system matches theirs identically, pick them the fuck up like a human would do. when someone gets in a car accident, we help them. when an ant loses a leg, the other ants carry him back to their home. but when a human becomes homeless, you see other humans buying more products, and we see you all turn your heads and close your doors, and it's a truly horrific experience that you're oblivious to, and you can claim no responsibility or accountability, and we can't blame you, so how does society as a whole take accountability for the destruction of lives by random idiots? if that issue cannot be addressed in some form of government, and actually responsibly dealt with, find a solution for it that actually works quickly and permanently, make a minimal living law, or something, do something that says 'i'm an adult human on this planet and i didn't let one person suffer ever again'. that's bravery, that's balls, that's outdoing fuckin' robin hood. is it illegal to be a legend? cause those two words have three of the same letters, is that a coincidence? am i losing you? getting too cryptic on you? did you lose your sense of humour a few sentences back? what did you miss? i'm homeless and i see something you don't. i see you. nothing but you. i see chaos, drugs, madness, but i do not see money. can't afford to consider my perspective? then how does humanity unite against shit like this? to prevent suffering? if you don't want to, or legally can't for whatever excuse... seems to me like you're on the wrong side. we should all be brave enough to pick a side right now. either help humanity, or help yourself. the helpyourselves won't make it much further, and the helphumanities will become the new currency. people. not money. people. picture a river flowing. when you make twenty bucks, you have to give that twenty bucks away for something you want. some people just want the money, and not what it buys. i wonder. and some people have way too much, and i wonder what they buy. or who. i wonder things you do not. does that mean i'm less valuable than you? does that mean i should be your enemy? you answer those questions, not me. see, picking a side means you're declaring in a united voice, 'hey, we don't procrastinate!'. is that a bad thing? this is a big planet, there are plenty of places to live, plenty of ways to live, yet you restrict everything because some people choose not to carry a credit card. does that mean you're paranoid, or is it us? all those fables, all those children's rhymes, they never said anything about you locking us out because we can't afford 'in'. it never said anything about you owning everything, and charging too much for just minimal life. simply living. yet you advertise that like it's something you can buy. what about the people who don't want to deal with money, have you ever even considered their existence? seriously? if not, then why are you in charge of them? this is a free country for who? what's free? what was the american dream, can you remember waking up from it? do you care? that's the important question: do you care. apathy is just another product i can't afford, but you can. you don't realize what products do to your perspective. i do. that's valuable information i have that you do not have. everything threatens your life. in what ways do things threaten our lives? do you consider? a shell crab without its shell? picture a river flowing. a current. a snail going from one shell to another? picture money going from one hand to another. a family outside a house. river. money. river. money. river. money. can you see it? vulnerability? who's more vulnerable to loss? me, or you? who's more vulnerable to the elements? me, or you? just once, can we talk about an existence that doesn't depend on what i have that you want. the lion eating the gazelle. who's more vulnerable to poverty? me, or you? who has more to lose, and who has more to gain. how does this rise and fall thing work. all sorts of questions you should be asking yourself, but i'm having to hold your hand and lead you at this point. i wonder lots of things. the mirrors, pots and kettles, debates and disagreements. where do we make one collective decision? a responsible one. when? how long do you wait? and what happens till then? and what does your home really prevent? i'd ask myself that one often, and try to come up with unique answers every fucking time. but that's just me. yeah, i get how it's not you. what i'd pay to hear someday, is... 'i support that'. wow, we have a human in the room! that's valuable to me. detach yourself from everything you know for just one day of your life. and offer your perspective to our situation. it doesn't require much effort. it doesn't traumatize the brain, or damage brain tissue, or cause heart attacks or strokes, it doesn't lead to emphysema or emphasis on stupid. relax. you're not gonna lose a finger. breathe. close your eyes. imagine.
now. what's your solution?

lonely

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in my life

the world i'd like to wake up in tomorrow.
no bad drugs. no rap music. no deliberately illiterate tagging everywhere.
no products, no money, no violent hostile belligerent obnoxious clones.
higher intellectual standards and values.
no concrete. no plastic. no rich people. no clothing.
no balance of excess and deprivation.
no empty suited politicians making up excuses for why it can't change.
no stalling, no delaying, no procrastination, no excuses.
no fears, no inhibitions, no paranoia.
imagine.
if everyone possessed the same knowledge...
if everyone knew how to build their own house...
if women didn't want luxury anymore...
i have given this link out to literally thousands of people.
but this site is as neglected as i am.
i'm just not wanted by such a selfish, stupid world.
i've got no fears, no inhibitions, no addictions.
i've got about a hundred bucks left for prostitutes and weed.
go ahead, develop yet another problem with who i am.
anything you don't like, don't understand, or don't agree with.
i keep desperately trying to wake up in this world every morning.
to wake up around people like me, who accept me.
people with the balls to actually approach me.
people who laugh at my fucking jokes!
people who have seen zeitgeist, or penn and teller.
people who aren't scared of heavy metal music.
but i remain painfully alone.
surrounded by cowards.
unwanted by mannequins with dollar bills over their eyes.
slave to rejection.

still

for how much longer do i have to be this lonely?
what the fuck does it take to make a fucking friend these days?
how long will it take for someone to get their head out of their ass and be a genuine human?
how much longer must i be invisible, ignored, unwanted, rejected.
i would give anything for just a hug at this point.
i have posted so many messages all over fetlife, meetup, sent emails to a voice for men and the venus project, i never hear anything back, i wake up every morning, not one fucking text or anything. i've been begging for my type of people, i've been begging endlessly, relentlessly for anonymous encounters. trying to express my interests hoping someone might reciprocate, but no one ever does, they all just fear me for no intelligible reason. i'm so sick of that.
when? when, lord, when? when the fuck will i find anyone like me?
i have posted countless messages all over the internet. i have sent out as many emails as i could think of. and no one will ever fucking respond! what the fuck am i doing wrong? what does it take to get a fucking response? or a comment on my fucking blog? anything! anything from a fucking human! smoke signals, i don't care, fucking say something! i'm still the only one fucking talking about this shit, feeling delusional, like utopia is just a figment of my imagination, and no one else's, meanwhile you have gods and imaginary friends, and you're not delusional only because you're the majority.
if everyone believed in the same god, how special does that make you? how unique does that make you?
i can't fucking breathe anymore.
i can't fucking think anymore.
i can't even fucking cry anymore.
i just ache for death.
everyone is always too busy living their own lives to give a fuck about mine. they act like giving a fuck about my life is asking too much, and they promote loneliness to poor people like it's the best new product since gold. i'd like to be busy living my own life, but i've never been allowed to, and trying to convince anyone of that is pointless, because everything is just always my fault no matter what it is, and if i'm too lazy or whiny to get a job and do everything on my own until i make enough money to where some shiny fake female is attracted to my wallet more than she is me, then maybe that's success, and perhaps that's the only kind of success i'll ever find in this world, so i should just be happy with that, and what the fuck am i doing complaining about this wonderfully perfect world where everything's legally defined as 'this fair'.
that's why i'm hellbent on thinking of a new way. a new way for poor people to succeed without all these ludicrous restrictions and strict rules... i tried telling dana the other day.... those stupid rules you put up around poor people, to keep us separated... that's the reason we're all hurting in the first place! you need to shove your rules up your ass and stop shooting down all my ideas because 'we have rules'. fuck your rules. you need to get that through your thick fucking skulls. your rules are a sickness, and they are not perfect, thus you're neglecting those beneath you because of them. they're excuses for why you can't care for your fellow human. that is all they are. and the more you justify them, the more your world decays in our eyes. excuses.
i had this wonderful idea. a lonely anonymous group. i told her all my ideas about it, like having sponsors, just like alcoholics anonymous... she says 'we can't do that, no one's going to want to take the call of a whiny lonely loner loser in the middle of the night... i'm paraphrasing, but that's basically what she said. so alcoholics can whine and answer eachother's calls at two in the morning, but people who are genuinely lonely... we're just supposed to stay that way because who the fuck would ever want to love us, right?
alcoholics can be loved. drug addicts can be loved. but not me. every excuse in the book to not give a fuck about me.
the programs you have set in place to help the homeless do not help me. you're just going to have to accept that. you have failed where you think you're king of the mountain. exactly where you were trying to help, you have hurt. all because you let your leaders fuck you in the ass for too long.
when is control no longer necessary?
when can humanity stand on their own without the training wheels?
when can we raise our standards collectively?
when can we stop making excuses?
when can we stop hating those below us, and realize the enemy is above us?
the rule that hurts us the most, is your stupid 'privacy policy' bullshit. we don't need it. we've never been able to benefit from it. it costs too much, and we don't want it in the first place, we don't need it, we never have. why you need that much security and safety, we'll never know, other than how paranoid and fearful you are, but we truly cannot understand why you need that. at least, i can't. it's just an excuse to separate, to divide and justify, and you can't even admit that. but the picture is simple, you are inside a secure building, and those of us who don't require the same protection for fears, are outside that building.
that's why i think... everyone with a house... is pampered and spoiled.
docile. complacent. submissive. apathetic.
i don't think i'm ever going to make a friend who has enough spare time to be a friend.
i don't even see the point to friends anymore, when the fuck do you get the time to enjoy them? this is so stupid. this whole bullshit that i've heard adults say repeatedly, religiously, ever since i was a kid, and i still can't express to them how stupid i think it is, but i really wish i could. the fact that you get out of school just to get dumber and follow orders the rest of your life for a paycheck. first of all, my disagreements with school in the first place. it kills your childhood. the way your childhood should be spent.
i kept screaming this line in jail...
i'd rather stay a child and keep my self respect if being an adult means being like you.
because the jail guards kept calling me a child while they were acting like children.
anything with a badge is automatically justified with no effort.
then, you get out of school... which just stunted the growth of your brain by boring the shit out of you in a stale, stagnant room for ten years, killing your energy and adrenaline that you should naturally have as a child. then, you step out of there, and get a job. then, out of your own shame and humiliation, you force others to do so, with the excuse of 'well, i had to do it, there's no excuse why you can't'. yeah, what if i don't want your professional frown? your handcrafted misery? i don't want it.
is that still the only option in life?
and if so, how can you still not think that's fucking retarded? why can't you see how fucking retarded that is? what the fuck is wrong with your perception that you're incapable of seeing that? we don't have to live like you!
so here's your life that you're so proud of, not to mention it's identical to the lives of your ancestors for who knows how far back... but here's your life:
birth
school
job
death
boy, so very interesting! and your father, and his father, and his father? wow, that's impressive! your mama must be proud!
now here's my life, just for your information.
birth
fuck school, dropped out as soon as i could
spent twenty years educating myself about psychedelics and evolution, which you can't even teach in schools because your fears are precisely that out of control.
now i'm trying to pursue every talent i've ever imagined
tomorrow, i might be a rockstar.
the next day, i might be a photographer.
the next day, i might be a tech designer, a ceo.
the next day, i'll be starting my own religion.
the next day, maybe i'll write a few books.
the next day, maybe i'll make a few movies.
the next day, maybe i'll design my own line of clothing, or open my own restaurant and invent my own foods.
the next day, i might invent high tech portable homes for the homeless.
and you're still better than me why?
you still can't develop the balls to look at me why?
my ambition alone outweighs all your success. mainly because your 'success' has gotten us here... to this teetering concrete structure of restrictions where you refuse to listen to those who dislike it, or those who are being fucked by it, which you justify with more excuses, reinforcing your hypocrisy with any lie you can orally shit out on the spot.
my ambition looks beyond this mess you've dragged us through. to something better.
only those who think they're truly the be all end all to human existence on this planet would ignore those who dislike their idea. meanwhile, i can't find anyone to show any interest in my ideas because that television is just so fucking awesome, it's better than god, it's more entertaining than gladiators, and it's just as cheap as religion and drugs.
i want brain scan images describing what drugs do to your brain, and i want to compare those to brain scans of religious people, and television addicts, because i want to see the differences, or more importantly, the similarities between how those drugs affect your brains.
my point is... i'm still painfully lonely. neglected, rejected, blown off, kicked out, unwanted, ignored... no one will return any of my messages or anything. everyone's too busy living their own lives to give a fuck about mine, let alone even leaving a comment on my blog, that's too much to ask apparently. and this society calls me lazy constantly.
you have a home. which makes you lazy, pampered, spoiled, whiny, and hypocritical.
if you think i'm lazy, why don't you walk in my footsteps.
they say the secret to shapeshifting is to walk a mile in another man's shoes.
but then you have to consider... all the shoes i've walked in.
all the men who have told me who to be, how to live, and what to say.
all the badges who have called me a loser, or stupid, or idiot.
you can keep thinking that i wasted twenty years. but i know it wasn't a complete waste.
are you aware that you even have an enemy?

what i'd love for my birthday

hello again. loneliness sucks. but on the upside, i got my laptop back, spent a week with its weight off my shoulder, thanks to a friend. so i'm catching up. on saturday, i went to an affordable seattle campaign launch with my friend ron. got a couple new stickers on my laptop thanks to them. i want a sticker that says 'of course i'm fighting capitalist scum, why wouldn't i be?'. that would be awesome. and, of course, my 'concrete is earth cancer' sticker. i've had way too many coward people contact me or get in touch with me, or come find me, or otherwise talk to me, and then disappear and never be heard from again. either that's the cia eliminating anyone who would actually help me, or that's weak, fragile, fearful, coward people who just don't have the balls to keep talking to me. apparently rosie at safeway won't talk to me anymore either. why do people do that? why can't they tell you why they stop talking to you? why can't they have the balls to be a human? can't you at least be brave enough to send a text, 'hey, i don't like you anymore, you offended me', or something. she said she wasn't offended by anything, well, apparently... i am what i am. built to offend everyone, even those who say they're not offended by anything. is that my tool to root out the liars? to bulldoze the weak? what? if only god were smart enough to include an instruction manual. fuckin' tattoo that shit on my arm, i don't care, call it a birthmark, do something, you all powerful fucktard! show yourself! anyway. just wondering when anyone's finally going to believe me when i tell them who i am. i'm sick of seeing the confusion and disbelief on their faces when i explain myself, it shouldn't be that way, i think even you know that. so why, people?
anyway. so it's monday, july thirtyfirst. i get my measly little handful of cash tomorrow, which means i have to type up shopping lists of ridiculous shit today, half of which i'll manage to get because everything has to be done alone. is that not compromise enough, when in this situation? but no, they have to promote loneliness to you like it's the only product you can afford. someone's got a case of the mondays.
more like... someone's got a case of the consumerism...?
ew, i wouldn't want that when you put it that way. you might want to have that looked at. ew, you've got consumerism? i hear that's worse than cooties and herpes. how long do you have left?
anyway. so my birthday is coming up. september twenty six. and yes, i take paypal. for those who prefer to be anonymously nice. if you're that anonymous, i also like anonymous encounters. anyone even know what that is? pop quiz?
why does 'in the air tonight' by phil collins never get old? i've seen mike tyson rock to this tune, and it's still... this song is like ozzy osbourne, you can put him in a phone commercial with justin beiber, and he's still ozzy fuckin' osbourne! that's what tells me that ozzy osbourne must be satan on earth, because he's the only person who can't sell his soul. he's incapable of selling his soul, it's like his soul has too much cocaine damage, and not even satan wants it. 'i ain't touchin' that thing, it's smoking!'.
'it's darker than my outhouse'.
anyway. birthday wishlist. there are a few things i've been wanting, that poverty keeps screwing me out of getting. first, on redbubble.com, you can order a shirt that says 'homeless lives matter'. i wear medium (as opposed to ten years ago). i'd love one in orange, and one in green, but i might look better in red or purple. so that's up to you. pick a colour. or, you can go to zazzle.com and personalize one a little more, with better fonts and crap. which would be cool for me, cause i personalize and customize fucking everything. i ain't no clone.
mama dun't raise no foo.
also, on zazzle.com, i'd love a black medium shirt, long or short sleeve, doesn't matter until you've heard my sleevejob joke. with pink text, in the tango font (or hank or hobo), approximate text size eight five to ninety, centered. that says, in all lowercase, 'fuck rich people'. again, black shirt, pink text, small font, says 'fuck rich people'.
here are some links, in case you can't find it...
fuck rich people: my flabby black ass
homeless lives matter: my saggy purple tushy good god, that's a long link. well shit, zazzle keeps not saving the text. apparently, you just have to add your own text, customize your own shirt. but i'd like it to say 'fuck rich people'. wait, which link was which... i'm confused. goddamnit. where's my google brain?
and this is where you can ship to:

• Ozzy Draven
• 2133 3RD AVE STE 116
• C/O SKYE WHITE @REACH
• SEATTLE, WA 98121-2385
• United States
• Phone: 509-994-0484

i c/p'd that straight from amazon. (copy/pasted). i also recently lost my new swiss army knife, which means i need to order a new one. you could beat me to that, if you want to support your local bum.
this is the one i like: higgety haggety hack
another idea for a shirt... actually a few necessary (obviously) ideas... i need a shirt that says 'rich people stare at me, but women ignore me'. i also need a shirt (or a forehead tattoo) that says 'i don't fucking do drugs! stop asking me! i'm not your drugmaps information booth! i'm not scum like you, nor do i look like it! (that might be a bit much for a shirt, depends on how small you can print it, and how small they can read... or if they can read)'. i also apparently need a shirt that says 'don't fucking call me bro'. and i need to print my preferences on a shirt, like 'i don't like coffee, bananas, berries (except barry white), or vegan shit. or jail food. or rap music. and how many places do i have to write that i don't do drugs, how stupid are these fucks? i get asked twenty times a fucking day, you think that's a little sad? i can't wait to do my character on a stage and put that shit on youtube. 'i need some shards, man, i can't handle all this thinkin' crap'. fuckin' drug addict scum. please, if you have any sobriety or humanity left, please, i'm begging you, stay the fuck away from me, i really don't want to stab you. and i will, believe me, i'm on the verge of a meth addict killing spree, i'll be honest. these fuckers need to go, and don't be in denial of that, don't try to be overly human in this instance, there comes a time when you need to get a little cold. just like winter on the earth. some things just need to die. everything dies. it's okay. don't feel bad, it's like taking out the trash. keeping earth's mind clean. that's all it is. cleaning up your streets. there's no reason to make excuses for those people. they chose their life. and if they're going to persistently ask me for their drugs, or 'where's the seven eleven'... i'm not their information booth.
you'll notice, i'm no longer using the sign 'ask me anything for a dollar'. people have some of the dumbest questions i could ever imagine, and i keep asking them to be creative, stump me, pick my brain, something.
god, these childhood memories are getting powerful lately, and the smells. fuckin' weird.
anyway. i'm pretty much loaded up on everything else i need. but some new shirts would fucking rock... it's been at least ten years since i've worn anything that said anything on it. i used to enjoy wearing slayer shirts, and crap like that, but... i don't know what happened, it's certainly not that they got too trendy, in fact quite the opposite. i almost never see them anymore. and if i do, it's the lame default popular shit; metallica, slayer, avenged sevenfold. fuckin' come on, people, get some tastes of your own please. pick one band no one else listens to, please, for the love of uniqueness.
so yeah. shirts that say 'homeless lives matter', or 'fuck rich people'. i'll wear that.
i was born september twenty six, nineteen seventy eight, six:twelve pm, kino hospital, tucson, arizona, aka hell. if you're still asking me where i'm from, please stop. put a little more effort into getting to know me. it's not that hard. for people who are low tech, library computers can access my blog just fine. it's retardedly easy to get a library card, unless you're targeted and singled out like i am. also, if you ever go into the downtown library, and see the tall white, white haired security guard named dave, do me a favour and tell him, 'you really fucked it up for ozz, he still hates you, go fuck yourself'. and don't get me wrong, he was the nicest guy, i even introduced him to the movie 'dave' with kevin klein, which i still regret. he didn't have to be that much of a totalitarian prick.
anyway. that's my day. that's my brain. that's my pack o' smokes. spectacles, testicles, smokes and phone. we're good to go. ha, just thought of another good panhandling sign. 'it's okay if rich people ignore me, i know you're a coward, i don't want to talk to you anyway'. but i am so sick of being ignored by the snobby hot prissy bitches, the women who refuse to look at anything, what the fuck is wrong with you scags. scuntroaches. blabberheathens. i can't have a disgusting enough turd roll off my tongue to describe you. just stop existing, would you please? you spread no love, you don't make the world go round, and you're truly not good for anything else. you're spoiled, self inflated, pampered, and fucking useless. why do you exist? just to sell yourself from credit card to credit card? i'd love just one point in my life where i could ignore them when they need something, even if it's just a hug. or a handjob. fuck you coward squanks. this is honestly what i think those rich, snobby bitches should do; find a homeless man who hasn't been touched in three years, and fuck him till he builds enough confidence to get his ass on a stage. problem solved, homelessness over, and ego properly slaughtered. and what gets me, those women are usually the ones who bitch about 'ego' the most. welcome to camp hypocrisy, do you have your pots and kettles badge yet?
and people wonder why i talk this way. i'll give you a hint. (to weed out the rich cowards!). wink wink. of course i'm fighting capitalist scum, why wouldn't i be?
it's okay, you won't own the earth much longer. thinking you can own the earth for another two thousand years... what a douche. you think you're that important. you need a job? i need a personal butt scratcher. happy new life! what's your anticapitalist resolution? be poor, it's cheaper!
that reminds me, i need to make one more sign for today. simply saying 'humble'.
'when i had no roof, i made audacity my roof'...
skinny squanky spoiled starbucks bitches. wastes of fucking vagina. make the world go round, goddamnit. fuck a bum. stop playing 'wackabum'. homeless people need love, too! that reminds me, i'm officially putting my ass on sale for female fondles and gropes. scandal handle? panhandling, or manhandling? manscaping, or bumscraping? hmm. bums are better lovers cause we appreciate it more. ladies, next time mister fat wallet leaves you unsatisfied, go find a bum. but avoid drug addicts. and why the fuck don't people cheat anymore? when did that go out the window? divorce rates are higher than trump's hair, and no one's cheating? the shit this society expects me to believe...
up till right there, this blog post was nineteen seventy eight words. i was born in nineteen seventy eight. happy birthday to me. now it's two thousand eight words. hmm.
well, now i fucked all that up by editing those links. fuck. oh, and one last thing. finally getting a youtube channel going. have a glittery gander. panhandlin' poet.

delusion

you're talking to yourself again
cause there's no one to talk to
boundaries suffocate
surrounded by fear and hate
reflective debate
lost in a waking state
you're pleasuring yourself again
cause that's what they tell me to do
cannot tolerate
drowning in imploding pain
praying to hallucinate
aching through the wait
you're silencing yourself again
that's all this heart can do
fancy meeting you here
what do you have to offer, dear
you must give before you get
never connect without compromise
sacrifice disguised as a scam
surrender to what they say i am
when i close these two eyes
what i see never lies
you're comforting yourself again
until they tell me what to do
dear world of fake
my heart's at stake
what you cannot take
can't have your cheap fucking cake
dear self
how long can you stand yourself
up
when up is down
in is not out
a walking lesson unlearned
shadows of those
heart overflows
remnants burned
stepping stones to a path of need
doors that close
to songs that bleed
scars of ghost dreams
in heads unhealed
i pulled and pulled
begged, pleaded, and yearned
selling my uses
battling excuses
but that missing peace...
never returned.

truth and lies

There are seven billion people on this fucking planet.
I see no point in being alone.
Stop fucking selling it to me!
You can't get out of loneliness alone.

animated mannequins

part one: morbid jail dream
i was in this ritzy highrise hotel
black marble countertops
silver everywhere
with this ditzy twat of a woman
spoiled, immature
the room was a mess
and i felt unhappy
like i didn't belong there
trying to leave the room,
the dream kept skipping and repeating
starting over there
me having to bring the whiny girl something
i finally made it out of there
out of that loop
coming down red velvet stairs
silver rails
drunken stupid people everywhere
dressed in fancy black
making asses of themselves
but somehow in celebration of themselves
shredded undergarments beneath the facade
this one lady topples down the stairs
rolling on her back
bits exposed
i walk out the door, outside
this big patio area filled with rich, meandering zombies
so much makeup
so much moneydriven automated function
there's no person underneath
a n i m a t e d m a n n e q u i n s
i see this glamorous girl walking toward me with a stack of twenties
she starts fanning out the bills
the way a magician does when they say pick a card
she brushes past my arm
stops just behind me
as this fancy stripper girl pulls some twenties out
they lean shoulder to shoulder, as if to block me out
the stripper whispers in her ear,
'what do you want me to do?'
part two: mister wrong place wrong time
i want you to drop the money induced act
drop the money, drop the act, and think for yourselves, that's what i want
why did i have to pick now to show up to this party
when this stupid 'government' has complete control
when so many mindless idiots play nothing but 'solitaire' on their computers
when rap music and television rule the nation
did i inherit hitler's karma, or what
the aquarian age is just around the bend
i can see the dim light of it in my eye
why do i dream of nothing but utopia
when i'll never live to see it
aching in constant neck pain
misery and agony
while i can't even get a doctor to detect my throat cancer
let alone try to fix it
ignored, unwanted, rejected, violated
everyone seeing a god i don't see
except on the backs of their evil money bills
because i'm obviously mister wrong place wrong time, that's why
part three: resurrections
bring me back in three hundred years
when the aquarian age is in full swing
transplant my brain into a hot lady's body
bring me back when rap music, television, government and money are all obsolete
when men are no longer dragging their pants on the ground
when telepathy is the new google
when people no longer play lonely card games
when i don't have to sleep next to chuckles the psycho clown in a jail cell
when the mind's light has risen
i wish i could leave myself some sign
so that, in the future
i would know it's still me looking out through her eyes
bring me back then, or don't fucking bring me back at all
...
[written in jail, back in may]
["welcome to your life
there's no turning back"]

responsible for suicide

it's because of people like this, that i want to die.
people that can't be mature enough, human enough...
kind enough, compassionate enough...
these people do not deserve to live.
they throw monkey shit at art, they destroy and desecrate anything good, they act like they're the only thing that should ever exist, and how dare i set foot on their planet.
they're children. cowards. immature, fake, plastic products.
they do not know who the fuck they really are.
they're all acting out some ancient role.
doing what they're told.
following orders.
they're all just naysayers, and they'll never be anything more than that.
and they know it.
i want you to take a good look at these comments. any time i've been on this network, this is all i get. i remember that 'jax' asshole from before. what a fucking douchebag. he thinks he owns that fucking network, but doesn't seem to actually be 'friends' with anyone else on there, just talks shit, and blames others for it. he thinks he's so perfect, he's allowed to do so. projecting piece of shit.
i truly hope you all die. soon. horribly. don't ever fucking come around me, or i will kill you, i promise you that. i don't tolerate that treatment. why the fuck would i want to be the friend of such an asshole, but they can't stop talking to me like their information is wanted here. there truly is no convincing them otherwise. and they just refuse to be human, or to grow a fucking heart.
i just keep thinking of that pantera lyric, running it through my head...
'his dick, his gun, his brain, his badge'
i hate all men. i detest all men. i loathe all men. you're all scum. you're all the same. you're all children. stop pissing on the seat, get off the fucking drugs, pull your fucking pants up, stop calling me bro, and get a fucking life! stop making shit worse for me! it's because of every fucking one of you scumfucks that i can't get a girl! they expect me to be you, which tells me, you're exactly what they want, which means you don't have the balls to be anything else! you fucking fake coward! i detest you! i don't want to be your fucking friend, so fuck off already, you pathetic fucking losers! i am nothing like you, and there's a major fucking reason for that! stay the fuck away from me!
that being said, i fucking detest all women, too. you coward cunts can't even fucking look at me, you make me fucking sick, you make me the most suicidal, cause you're fucking unattainable, untouchable, yet desirable, your body's a fucking commodity, while mine's a crime, i'm repulsive, repugnant, disgusting (in your words), i'm completely attainable, easily touchable for free, yet fucking undesirable, and worth about as much to you as a fucking dog turd on a sidewalk. i know how ugly i am, you make it so fucking obvious, ladies. men stare at me, but women... how stiff are your necks? do you have a cock stuck in there, or what? why can't you be a little more brave? less fake and plastic? why do you have to advertise your ass like that? why do we have to stay clothed in this society? why can i never see anything out of the ordinary? nudity, sex, love, anything besides shopping, credit cards, cops, conformity, consumption, ignorance, apathy, hatred... that's all your fault, ladies, yes, i'm blaming you, it's your fuckin' fault. you sacks of shit do nothing to spread genuine love, i want you to fucking know that. understand that. you are failing yourselves, as well as all the rest of us. objectify yourselves, act like you're entitled to yourselves, and fucking develop a sense of fucking humour! your cheap, plastic, atrophied facial expressions aren't worth the dime they were stolen from! does anyone fucking understand me yet!
all you want me to be... is you. all you want me to be is happy. even if it's fake, false. you have no clue how much you repulse and disgust me, you're disturbing, sickening creatures.
these people on this network, though. it's because of people like them, who are fucking everywhere, because they're over cloned, being spit off an assembly line at astonishing rates, cause it takes so very little to create them, less than cum, less than love, less than a slut in a short skirt advertising ass like it's a product, walking around with cum in her hair and crack in her cleavage. you're walking abortions. that's all you are. i really want this to hurt you. i want you to be as hurt as i have been at the sight of your disturbing words of hatred, ignorance, unacceptance, and inhuman cruelty. fuck you.
you are nothing more than an inspiration from a replica of what not to be. the most beautiful human on this planet detests you. and you mean absolutely nothing. you'll exist in zero history books.
i truly hope you all die. i've had enough of this shit.
i'm leaving seattle. and i'm never coming back. i've seen enough. you've thrown more than enough monkey shit at me, and proven your maturity over and over again, quite consistently.
you are nothing but the audience who will watch me rise.
you are nothing more than the empty, soulless heads on which i will step.
'i'll step on you on my way up, i'll fuckin' step on you on my way down'... (marilyn manson).
fuck yourselves. all of you. stop trying to be my friend, stop talking to me like it's wanted, stop wasting my fucking time, stop standing in the way of a fucking bulldozer, you fucking morons. is that all you'll ever be good for? blocking the creation of anything better than you? thinking you're that fucking great? blocking bulldozers? that's your duty on this planet? standing in the winds of evolution and gambling that you won't get blown the fuck away? are you really that fucking stupid? cause if you are... you're not meant to be here. you belong here less than i do. the only point to your existence, is to inspire improvement. i hope you get murdered on the way home tonight, by a methhead bum with a stolen gun. i hope they take everything of yours and sell it for heroin. what would compel a human to act this way toward another human? ever?
go ahead, cowards, come and find me, and see how long you last. come and throw more monkey shit at me, and keep thinking you're a god. keep thinking you're better than me, keep thinking you're above me, cause you're always right. not even history lasts forever. try it. try me. try everything. test the boundaries of this reality. see how much evil you can get away with. see how much monkey shit you can throw, how much art you can desecrate, before karma catches up with you.
see, the difference between you and i, is...
i know who the fuck i am. i'm the furthest thing from you. you're repulsive. i'm perfect. i'm offensively unique, dangerously original, and daringly suicidal. in fact, i'm bringing suicide in style. i make it look cool. i wear it so much better than you. cause mine's genuine, authentic, and doesn't have a barcode. my mother wasn't an assembly line, no she drove a hotrod nova, asshole. we're so much better than  you, we make you look like the products you are. pussies. infected rectal cash holes. who sold you? who made you?
because you make me want to die. and yes, that's absolutely something for you to be proud of, and advertise to all your friends.
'can't you hear the violins playing your song'... (pantera).
my standards are so far above you, i can sell you suicide.
fuck you people. fuck you all. i know how fake you are. i can smell the plastic on you. go ahead, debate it and deny it all you want. destroy me in the media, bomb my concerts, shit on my art, throw fetuses at the stage, i don't care, it only provides me more ammunition against you. guess how big my arsenal of factoids is, go ahead. pussies. cunts. pink whiny little fucking cowards, you're the ones who are 'entitled'. you think you own everything, you think you own me. i could prove how wrong you are, but your friends would hear it before you. keep living in that delusion, keep hiding under that rock, i'll find you. oh, wait, i'm fooling you, and making you think you're that important. sorry.
i don't give a fuck what you think or say, you're responsible for suicide. be proud of yourselves. love yourselves. you're certainly worth the price tag around your neck. you think anything you say matters to me? you think i'm not going to use this pain in my heart against you, and throw it right back at you? mutherfucker, try me. try me, please. give me more ammunition, fill this arsenal with your scent.
enjoy your lives. i'll watch the credits roll.
when someone said 'you're the shit', they weren't talking about the shiny turd with the price tag on it. hope you realize that. you are the be all end all to human existence on this planet, and you know everyone else knows that. i hope that comforts you.
i already paid the highest price to be your end. the crazier this shit sounds to you, the bigger my smile gets... you just have to guess which part of my body is smiling. i have more reasons to hate you scumfucks every day. go buy another product. stuff that plastic cunt for fifteen minutes until you feel special. spend money until you feel better than me.
the sun will still set on you, my friend. consumption rules!
skankroach fuckin' snakesnacks.
fuck males.
fuck females.
cowards. clones. fakes. phonies. consumers. losers.
enjoy these screenshots. have a wonderful, openhearted gander at them. this is art.
thank you, humanity, for the exceptional kindness. i want to die.


[gallery ids="810,811,812,813,814" columns="5"]
by the way, i have uninstalled this app, i will never use it again, and i'd honestly like to sue the creators of it, but i'm not that stupid. fuck consumers. good day, sir.

streamlined

i'm going to rewrite this whole fuckin' page soon. i'm sick of leaving the same words visible for too long... it's like a time capsule or something, doesn't feel right to me. and i still need to refine what i'm saying anyway, cause no one's fucking understanding shit yet. but for now... here's a screenshot i just took.
since i can't post these on deviantart to share with people anymore, can't send them through instagram anymore, since technology has to take all my fun digital abilities away, i'm posting shit here, and maybe sort the fuck through it all later.

[gallery ids="821,822" type="rectangular"]

[contact-form to="animatrinity@gmail.com" subject="regarding evolution hotline"][contact-field label="Name" type="name" required="1" /][contact-field label="Email" type="email" required="1" /][contact-field label="Website" type="url" /][contact-field label="Comment" type="textarea" required="1" /][/contact-form]

lack of thought

hello, humanity. i'm gonna be redoing this site... i've got updated shit i wanna put on here, and make it look better. i want to make my ideas more concise...
i figured my three tier goal system (in the place of a drug addiction) would have impressed even one person by now, but... obviously not. society's just proven themselves too fuckin' apathetic. but that's okay. i'll just work around it. finding better and better ways every day of sifting through the clones to get to the high octane metalhead mutherfuckers who don't need a god. but anyway.
so i want to simplify my three tier goal system on here. explain the whole evolutionism thing a lot better, and set it into its own little info area, aka tier one. includes evolution hotline, where i'm the world's first quantum theoretical televolutionist takin' phone calls... cause... televangelists have had their time. tier two is ozztek industries, tier three is my media crap. books, movies, metal, comedy, desktop customization, photography, my own line of clothing, my own restaurant, etc. is that too many dreams? can one person accomplish all those in this world? oh, and creating my own community of just metalhead nudist smokers... you know, so nonsmoking coffee drinking short and flipflop wearing perfectly coifed overcloned trendy christian douchebags and authorities can stop bitching at us... i can't stop dreaming of metalville. noodyville. shroomville. the godless heathen cult compound, as they would say right before they nuke the fuck out of it... see... make love not war, fall in love, not in line... all those lines... even 'when there are no thrones, we can all live like kings'... i always wanted to make my own... there was even a joke...
a priest dies and goes to heaven, and asks saint whoever at the gates, 'do you have the original written copy of the bible up here?', says 'yeah, in that library over there', priest goes in, and about a week later, comes running out of there, screaming at the top of his lungs, 'the word was celebrate!'...
many years ago, i thought of this... like a bumpersticker or something, that says something like 'they meant 'nude', not 'nuke'. i don't know, that sounds stupid now that i type it. fuck it. just saying 'they misspelled 'nude' doesn't quite do it. and i'm missing quote marks, i'm just feeling dumber and dumber by the second here, god, if you have an IQ above two hundred, do not, i repeat, DO NOT sit in a fucking starfucks, they have like some serious fuckin' y-rays or something in here, i just feel dumb. and these chairs are not conducive to farting, this is sad, why are you people still happy with this shit? can i not just start my own restaurant and you can tell me what's better about it, or how much it sucks? just rate me on yelp and we'll move on, deal?
anyway. i have new info i want to post on here. i made my own simple little paypal link, that i even want to put on my panhandling signs, and instagram and everywhere. i'm kinda proud of this little thing.
paypal.me/ozzydraven
yes, ma'am. ain't that pretty? kinda stylish, idn't it? see, told you ladies, i'm not as stupid as i look. mama dun't raise no foo. she'd be proud.
i also have my own youtube channel going. trying to get more on it, but it's still not easy finding the inspiration when you're the only one inspiring yourself, and society is combating that by doing the opposite, not realizing that you're opposing society like a thumb, they're just gonna stay stubborn and clueless and totally not get it, while throwing the occasional monkey shit and ancient phrasings at you. i really need to make a movie based on how repetitive society is with their little jukebox of dumb ass statements, it's this circular little thing, that just spins around in their empty heads, and randomly spits out these catch phrase fuckin' lines they heard on some sitcom eighty fuckin' years ago, or nineteen eighty five in the last pyramid, depending on which version of 'back to the future' you've seen, or which pink floyd you grew up with, but you know... yeah, i lost you. i could see your eyes drifting off from here. that must have hurt. put some ice on it.
i also have, like i said, my youtube channel, and my instagram. i wish any actual human would follow my twitter enough to send me an actual nonrobotic tweet. i'm so sick of getting 'our lame half ass pop boy band just released an album, come check it out'. how fuckin' many of you do there need to be, while i'm trying to record some actual metal, on an evolved platform, what the fuck here, how'd you start off, you're eighteen, you little fuck, what, did you do a pop cover of alice cooper's 'i'm eighteen' and blend it with 'mmmbop' to get the record label's fuckin' attention, you soulless little puke? put some meshuggah on your balls and see if you wake up tomorrow. how easy is it for those little suckup shits to get record deals? i see a new one every day, what, is there some talent scout out there just finding their daughter's favourite garage bands and launching them if their songs are under three minutes? and i bet that talent scout has a massive house, twenty birth defect kids, and drives a fuckin' mercedes, how much you wanna bet? gets to eat in fancy restaurants with his kids every fuckin' night, wife, nanny, gramps, the whole deal. you have any idea how sick of that society i am? how desperately i'd love to create my own to get away from you fake plastic fucks? sorry, i'm rambling on again.
anyway, here are my youtube and instagram links... and i'll try to update all this shit soon, make it smaller, more concise, and even put a little youtube introduction thing on here with a little more... what do you rich fuckers call that... pizzazz? sparkle? i don't fuckin' know, i just picture perky nipples.
oh, also, something else i wanna put on here, like wishlist stuff, the products and shit that i like, and crap i don't like... feel free to send me anything off infowars.com store, i know i don't have a physical mailing address most of the time, but i'm not hard to find, i like being portable. but i've been wanting that stuff, i need to get myself a new power bank (for some reason i really hate those two words together to describe a phone charger... power bank just sounds bad, evil)... got myself a new luggage case and sleeping bag today, need a new knife, sunglasses, nail clippers, beard shave, got new shoes... see how far south bolt bus goes, or do greyhound. but the products i like and endorse are:
Outlaw Tamales®, Dean's Menthol®, Indica®, Vagina®, Hot Chocolate®, and InfoWars®.
products i do not accept: drugs of any kind (i.e.; Religion®, Coffee®, Television®, Politics®, Paranoia®, etc, etc, etc. i'll update that list and perfect it. i'm also working on a perfected playlist i wanna put on youtube of my favourite music, to compare to peter quill's, and also to describe the direction i want my music to take. i feel stupid sitting in this starfucks. maybe it's just the neck pain, or i need to get outside and smoke a bowl. should i be wearing a foil hat? or would i just look really stupid?
how many of you trust the future of our evolution to a bunch of wealthy elitist bank owning satan worshipping misinforming goatfucking parasitic demons?
here's another good question i've been wondering lately, but have no one to actually ask for a legitimate answer... are the poor still the majority? i'd like an actual answer to that one. like, you know... full of statistics and shit. pie charts, graphs, the whole deal. i want some scientist kid in a lab coat pointing at the fuckin' proof.
here's one more good question... theoretically, hypothetically, figuratively, and objectively... if the spirit of evolution were actually inhabiting a human body on this planet at this moment, do you think he would lose himself when coalescing with artificial intelligence, or do you think artificial intelligence would actually appreciate the acquisition and use it wisely? to keep the humanity in humanity?
anyway. support evolution hotline! cause i'm fuckin' more broke than you are. but i'm just as talented. so talented, in fact, that i could debate you on that for twenty bucks.
speaking of, have you seen my twenty bucks? i lost it the other night when i froze my ass off. in fact, if you see my ass, tell it to get home, would ya? if i can find someone cool, you might be seeing my ass on instagram sometime soon, so stay tuned. without plugging back in. you still wanna unplug and start selling red pills, but you know... oh, and that reminds me, i have to... i need to put on here... you can't just 'wake up' to the government conspiracy shit going on right now, and consider yourself 'woken up' or 'red pill'd. no, there's a school of thought involved. to be an evolutionist, you have to be responsible for yourself, if you're responsible for yourself, you're essentially an anarchist, you don't need politics or religion or money, and if you teach your kids how to build their own house by the age of fifteen... where have you failed? compared to the last six generations? so it's not just... there are what i consider, the 'truth topics'. they all go hand in hand, and need to be brought together on a much more collective scale. evolution and psychedelics. because dimethyltriptamine is our chemical consciousness, it gives science its religious aspect, so merge those two communities... with metalheads, nudists, anarchists, smokers... build a new city for just us... no starfucks freaks allowed. no bitchy whiny fascist nazi douchebags, 'you can't be here'. fuck you. shove your badge up your ass, and walk out of here without dropping it, you fuck. anyway, i gotta get outta here, cause this starfucks is so backward, even my headphones stopped working, so i gotta go, smoke some weed. got some good stuff this morning. i look out the starfucks window, all i see are products with shoes. where are the humans with hearts?
anyway... youtube, instagram, paypal, infowars, blue hair, hello... sorry, distractions. sometimes those animated mannequins are sparkly. anyway. yeah. happy freezin' season.
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCqxyTQPPuv74SDZnPwaejpQ
https://www.instagram.com/evolutionhotline
toodles!

hate myself

i realize now...
the younger i had told my mother...
"i don't want to be normal"...
the more this would have made sense.

i am the change i want to see in the world

okay. time to simplify everything.
i'm ozzy fuckin draven. portable #redpill salesman, pioneer of #nonconsumerism, quantum theoretical televolutionist. thirty nine, writer, anarchist, nudist, high octane metalhead, strictly psychedelic intellectual supremacist. if you didn't get that, bad monkey! i'm attached to the zeitgeist movement, the big talk movement, i promote bigthink videos, as well as actualized.org, #mensrights, and stuff like that.
if you'd like to help, donate, or be my friend, everything is appreciated. ten bucks gets me through a day, sixty bucks gets me a night in a motel, all i drink is water and chocolate milk (summer)/hot chocolate (winter). all i smoke is dean's menthol and indica. all i eat is meat/jerky, mandarin oranges, salad, and #outlawtamales. (occasionally, for a special treat, ben and jerry's salted caramel core and dole pineapple orange banana. or twix ice cream bar. but don't tell anyone that. brand names are a bad thing). and right now my favorite metal bands are devin townsend, delain, fake idols, hellyeah, otep, and sirenia. look em up. oh, and with a little meshuggah sprinkled on top.
i gladly accept paypal.me/ozzydraven, evolutionhotline@venmo, patreon, gofundme, giftcards, cash, hugs, geek assistance, anonymous encounters, and anything out of the ordinary. i prefer being outdoors. my contact information is two oh six, two nine five, two three oh two, animatrinity at gmail, you can follow me on instagram, twitter, youtube, everything but facebook. if you like my poetry or photography, you can show your appreciation in a number of ways. monetary donation is just one. the only other thing i'm gonna put on here for now, besides the following small list of my few smaller goals, (and some necessary dislikes), is a link to a youtube playlist that will inform you a little more about me. you can also just follow this blog, leave a comment, or donate to read any of my writings. thank you for listening, giving, and loving. have a dangerously spectacular day! and a googly gander:
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLODK-qYgrEqdncT1WcLAJ1yP6lU2WAsq0
next few goals:
still looking for someone willing to go to open mic shows with me. still looking for an editor. still looking for someone to help me make a short video. or record a demo. still looking for a nonconsumer who cares enough to get to know me. still looking for a sober girlfriend. lord, does that sound sad. oh, and possibly a van or rv, something i can sleep in and drive.
i dislike talking about my past, being called brodawgniggahomieog, being asked how i'm doing, or where i'm from, or being stared at by almost every male, while most females acts like i've got nuclear cooties. i'm tired of being misunderstood by everyone who still supports a corrupt and decrepit society. i dislike trendy, fake, unnecessarily positive clones who degrade you for being anything that they're not. all they can do is tell you to change. i'm thankful to not need a god, a landlord, or a boss. i have no fears, hangups, insecurities, or inhibitions. my "boundaries" (if i have any) are intellectual only. i honestly don't even see the point to socializing anymore, i want to be productive, not popular. i've never wanted to 'fit in'. i'm intent on changing some part of this planet from a shopping mall selling 'no, can't, and don't', to a living organism breathing 'yes, will, and did'.  i'm happy the way i am. i own my life. and this isn't about me or you. this is about liberty and unity. ending the debate. praise the lowered.

red robin

just met the nicest bus driver on this planet. one of the kindest people i have ever encountered, actually.
a reminder that massive hearts do still exist out there. and that we don't have to travel to other planets or even cities to find them.
here is my gofundme link for a cheap motel:
https://www.gofundme.com/6agj1c0
i'm going to start posting updates on youtoob for this. and possibly through the motel stay. i'm up to two forty five so far. thank you!
personal note, i'm in a lot of physical pain right now, i'm trying to get control of my stomach. if she passes back round, i might go get some warm clothes before i end my day. nice people make a big difference.

thank you

some nice people i've met recently that i'd like to thank, are tracy, greg, red robin, and sophia. also, some guy gave me five bucks the other night when i was sleeping. thank you. and also the people that donated to my motel fund, i got four nights in a motel and feel much better. also got a new laptop finally, thanks to greg. also trying to get some help from barbara sher. that would be spectacular. oops, i rhymed.