a thought on knowledge...

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

sit on this

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

what a fucking nightmare!

to tell the part of my story just before this would take too long. so this is where this little part of my story starts.

april of this year.

by april of this year, i had no idea i'd ever be getting out of tucson. the town that destroyed my life. in may, the wonderful scagflag mother of my wonderful stolen children asked me if i wanted to come to spokane washington. without hesitating, i said yes. anywhere can be better than here, right? so i hop a plane, and here i am.

june first was my first full day here. from june first to june ninth, it took these idiots in the trailer nine days to fuck that up, and blame it on the new guy. me. alan sears, you should be ashamed of yourself, sir. you're no fuckin' father. you're a failure of a parent just like my mother.

june tenth and eleventh, i was homeless, but i got alot accomplished. got my medical insurance, got signed up with frontier, and got two different beds. on june twelve, i met a girl named snow. i thought, hmm, female companionship, how bad could it be. i talked to her. big mistake. i just wasted a month. in the end, we were basically just using eachother for sex simply because we both had herpes. what fun. she was psycho, immature, and fat. she's got a lot of growing up to do. and now one of her idiot friends wants to beat me up. joy.

from june twelve to july twenty something, i had to cart her shit thru the streets, wasting time, getting nuthing accomplished, killing my body for no reason. yeah. that story again. but now i'm happily single, not wasting my time on any other women (for the most part). for the last couple weeks, i've been able to make it on my own just fine, getting food every day, had bits of tobacco to smoke, and had a few people smoke me out here and there. not bad, right?

this town shuts down on evenings and weekends, which is odd to me, i've never lived in a city that had a cerfew, i come from tucson, a city that never fucking sleeps, and seriously needs to. so on sunday and monday, there wasn't much i could do, so i walked around town smoking pot with people. pointless shit. wasting time. which i hate doing. but okay, whatever.

tuesday. i wasted my time and effort and energy and body walking to city gate, where they serve the food, and i had been going to stay away from certain idiots. there was no breakfast, no lunch, i think all i got was a fuckin' donut. whensday, same thing, breakfast and lunch were pointless wastes of time, nuthing to eat. but i still kept being nice to the people, because i did appreciate what they do.

today. i went up to city gate. nuthing. i figured i wouldn't stick around for lunch, so i went to ugm for their noon lunch. i stand in line for half an hour with blisters on my feet the size of my cat, waiting patiently for food. the greedy people eat first, and the patient people get fucked. i get right up to the front of the line, i'm just about to get my little tray of food, and the guy says 'you can't take your backpack in the dining area', i said 'there's no way i'm leaving this around, someone will steal it, i don't trust anyone'. so he just kicks me out of the place. i wanted to punch the fucker. what am i going to steal, you asshole, the free fuckin' food? get the fuck off me. so i walk out of there to the bus stop, and sit in the sun.

i call frontier just to talk to someone, i start ranting, and start trying to open my last can of mini o's, which is also my only weapon of self defense i have left at the moment. got my backpack, and i'm armed real well. right as i start to open the can, the bus comes. i get on the bus, and get dropped off at who knows where the fuck where, and ask the guy which bus would take me to the vtc. he says the ninetyseven. i walk all around the place looking for a ninetyseven. there is no fucking ninetyseven. so i ask a guy. he says no, the thirtytwo turns into the ninetyseven somewhere else, and he's driving the thirtytwo, so i ask if i can get on his bus, and i finish up the frontier call.

i get on the bus, sit down in the back, and go to open the can of mini o's. i'm trying to do it gently, so i can keep the lid on the can, but the lid pops off, and chef boyardee sprays all over me, my hands, my clothes. my clean clothes are fucked now. and i'm on a bus going who knows where, in a what the fuck part of town i have no idea, and now i've got fuckin' food all over me. i wish i could even remember the details between all this, because it sucked even worse. my finger is still hurting, so i of course keep banging it into everything possible, and having to overuse its minimal strength, which hurts it more. i'm pissed at this point. i quickly scarf down the can of mini o's, and get off the bus who knows where.

i call the bus people. this kid that sounds like he has down's syndrome comes on, and tells me i'm close to the argonne library. he says it's about half a mile up the road. well, he misjudged that by about a mile. uphill. thanks, asshole. so now i'm about a mile from any bus, on a crap computer, trying to type all this shit up. i wish i had just recorded it on my fuckin' phone, it would have wasted less time, and i would have gotten more of it out. i'll have to just add more to this later, cause now i have to go. i fucking hate this life. no one could help me out, no one can offer me a fuckin' dollar, or a ride. you people in your cars... i used to have a car. jolly god mutherfuck you all, man. kiss my black fuckin' ass, i hate you for so many reasons, and i'll write a fuckin' book about them. you're all going down. spokane sucks. fuck yourselves.

kitchen conversations

i wanted to go out to the kitchen to get a soda, but there were no cold ones in the fridge because there's no room in the fridge. it's hot, i didn't feel like putting a shirt on, so i opened my door and looked out there to see if anyone was out there, and no one was, so i went out to the kitchen without my shirt on. i had to be out there too long. i had to put sodas in the fridge, and pour the last of my chocolate milk in a fresh glass. when i started waking back into my room, is when fred's idiot friend came in from the back yard, and i know he saw weird little me with my homeless gloves and no shirt, thinking i'm fucking mental because of all the shit fred's told him about me. so i pictured in my head on the way back to my room, his thought was 'that kid is fuckin' mental'. so i sat down and had an imaginary conversation with that guy, and said 'well, you know, oddly enuph, i actually tried to explain that to you morons'. and he'd say 'you did?', or whatever the average morons says in that imaginary situation that never happens, or scenario, with that pompous accent like michelle used to say. and in my head, i'm thinking of whatever his inquiry might be, to have me explain my mental to this idiot. and i just start going off on all these little pathways in my head. and i get to where i'm saying, 'yeah, there's a thing you can look up on the internet. it's a webpage called wikipedia. and on it, you can look up whatever you want. it's like an encyclopedia, but current and growing and evolved. it's amazing. you can learn whatever you want on there. but the amazing thing is, no one does it. no one even created the site, it's run by a little grey alien dude the government keeps locked up in a dungeon below area fiftyone. he apparently survived trying to land here. yeah, big fuckin' mistake, huh, little guy. won't be tryin' that again. anyway, you can go on this site, and get this typing device called a keyboard, and hit the letters 'ptsd'. and take a little gander there. it stands for post. traumatic. stress. disorder. now, figure this, what it means is, if someone's an asshole, and they abuse their daughter, their daughter is going to grow up with something called ptsd. it means, if you've been hit in the head, you're gonna have a headache. for every action, there's an equal and opposite reaction, right? well, for irresponsible actions, there's some fucked up shit. some consequences. and some people are too stupid to deal with those consequences, so their kids usually end up on jerry springer. are we following along? cause that explains why i'm insane, but anyway, on this wikipedia thing, there is no limit to what you can read about and learn about. it's a digital doctorate, free of charge, and no one knows it exists. but it's okay, because the letter 't' in 'ptsd'? whatever word that letter stands for, is not in my crackhead uncle's vocabulary, so that's why he's out there telling his friends so much misunderstood horseshit about me. but you can go on wikipedia anytime and look that up, it's a wonderful invention, it's better than tv. pumping endless hours of brainwashing thru a box in your homes. and those children are so fucked up now, that they don't know they can suck endless hours of education into their homes now, to bring them out of this funk into a collective utopia that would make their parents look like idiots, but technology is a wonderful thing, and my daughter is the next stage of evolution. so that's why i'm completely fucked in the head, so you can move along now, cause i know you're bored shitless with this imaginary conversation, but thanks for talking to me, i was too poor to have any imaginary friends growing up, so that's why i don't believe in god, does that answer your question? have a good time with your little friend now. go easy on those funny soda cans, you're gonna grow up like your uncle. when no one tells their kids that, the entire family grows up that way, and then no one has a clue that you're the family titus talks about who live in a particular house. what were you saying about insane? i forget, must be these pills they have me on, or the society out that window i can't be a part of, i don't know, but something tells me something's not right, and you look pretty uneducated to me. run along now. this yellow wall is warmer than you.

misery and agony

well, since i never got to tell anyone who cares about my morning, i guess i'll tell my blog. yesterday was fucked. i came home, my head was not right, no one would talk to me online, so i figured i'd drive up and get a case of beer and a burger. i had twentysix bucks left, i figured i could get a case of beer, a burger, and a bag of cereal for that. i went into fry's to look for my mike's hard lemonade six packs. they didn't have any. they had twelve packs, or mike's hard lemonade lite. so i ended up having to get the lite, and by then, my brain was so fucked price wise, that i just left the store without any cereal or anything else. we're still out of kleenex and toilet paper, so i can't shit, and can't wipe the tears off my face, once again. it's something i wrote in my poem 'god's gravity' that i lost. i hate this life, i hate this world, i'd much rather put a bullet thru my head, than sit around waiting for someone to like me. so i left fry's, and got my burger, and drove home. i sat here for a while, trying to get up the appetite to eat the whole burger. long story short, last thing i knew, i was half way thru my burger and my first beer. next thing i know, i'm waking up this morning. that's the second burger in a row i've wasted, i've got five full bottles of warm beer next to my bed. but i wake up this morning, and i get a huge pop out of my neck finally, so my first thought of the day, for once, is not 'this fucking mucus', but rather, 'oh, it might be an okay day'. wrong. god decides to nosedive me straight into the ground. i miss my girl. i sat here... i turned my computer off, so i wouldn't keep hoping for some life to shine thru it. and i just kept it off. i smoked a cigarette, figuring i'd enjoy the quiet morning, and the birds, and pretend i was homeless alone this morning without any power, because i pretty much am. no one's going to talk to me online, no one's ever going to care about me. so i laid down for a minute after the cigarette, and just started crying. i sat up, wrote my daughter a little suicide note, and cried my eyes out for about half an hour. had to clean my face with rough paper towel. you know, when you see that person... sitting alone in their room... all electronics off... crying their eyes out... well, when you fail to see that person crying their eyes out, is when you fail to see that person kill themselves. and then it hurts you that they're gone. you'd think you'd learn from your mistake.

deceptive trails

this is stupid. why am i doing this. why am i continuing on. i can't stand this pain, this life, this stupid body of mine, i hate my life, i hate myself for what i did to her. i am disturbed by my skin. i hate my head. it's come to feel like a concrete prison. i'm not happy. i hate this world. it's not ready for me yet. i'm in so much pain. my hands just itched like crazy, so i scratched them so much, they're now raw. my knees and ankles won't even hold me up anymore. i do nothing but hurt and shake and cry. some may find this repulsive, but i am repulsive, so deal with it, but i'm never going to find another woman who loves everything about me, even the smell of my farts. go ahead, laff, but she literally did. and i'm sick of pulling shyt out of my eyes, and not being able to wipe it on my wife's naked leg, and see her smile. she taught me unconditional love, when the rest of this town raped their hatred into me. violated my dreams. destroyed my peace. why am i still here. why am i still hurting. this is stupid. why do i keep believing in this juvenile playground. the things i'm interested in: nudity, pot, love, touch, peace, logic, evolution, utopia, comedy, enlightenment, elegance. what others are interested in: lunacy, videogames, popular crap, blame, hatred, seclusion, separation, exclusion, degradation, competition, fear, violence, destruction. and why am i still here again? if this world is not ready for utopia yet, why am i still here. i should come back later, shouldn't i. makes sense to me. this life was trashed, and now my head feels like a concrete prison. extremely uncomfortable and disturbing. physical reality is too physical to me, and is not real. i feel every hair on my head, i feel my skin, my skull, way too much, like it's too hard, too solid. i used to be able to think outside my head, but my caring loving family made damn sure to destroy that, and turn me into a violent little boy who beat my wife away from me when i didn't want to. this chaos is exactly why i shouldn't be here. i was meant for more than this. you can blame me for wasting my life away, but if we all stopped blaming and accepted responsibility, and were brave enuph to make a daring choice, we'd realize we wasted our time blaming eachother. i wasted my life trying to motivate my stupid lazy worthless mother to get off her ass and live her life. she's now four hundred pounds with a tracheotomy. my whole family, as well as my ex, they're abusive projecting oblivious idiots in denial. i had to go thru years of forced mental help, just to have them destroy me. in the end, it was the rest of them who should have had to do that. i was always right, but never heard. i will stick around just long enuph to see if a doctor or lawyer or publisher will help me get my story told, and get back what's rightfully mine. my life. and have these irresponsible, immature, juvenile idiots held accountable, not that it would matter. if it's only going to make me feel better, and not solve any real problems, what's the point. vengeance is just as dumb as blame. there's no happy ending to this horrible story. why take a real life story this ugly and dead, and try to make anything out of it. i'd be beating a dead horse. at least it's better than being ashamed of beating my wife. you couldn't suck sympathy out of my family with a hooker and a hoover vacuum. let alone anyone else in this backward ghost town. so why keep going. why. figure this: i don't bathe, i hate money, and i have herpes. any women out there find that attractive? there are six billion people online, i've got three blogs, two da pages, fetlife, twitter, and i couldn't be more invisible. i've joked before, i'm so dark, you have to be blind to see me. it's no joke. i've said in a poem, i'm the world's greatest unknown. i used to like that. i can't even find a friend who can use punctuation correctly, my chances of finding another girl who not only deals with, but loves all my issues? i'd have a better chance of shooting myself on a dating show. just for george carlin style ratings. he said life is worth losing. ernest hemingway said 'the world is a fine place, and worth fighting for'. morgan freeman only agreed with the second part. i say, stop 'fighting' for crap when you don't even know what you want as a collective consciousness responsibly sharing a planet, stop 'fighting' for everything, instead, start living for something. dreamers have something to live for. idiots have something to die for. there is a difference. take greater care in the terms we use to define our coexistence, and stop trusting the wrong people while they distract us and mislead us thru the wrong choices. 'ooh, do i buy the iphone or the itard with lady gagme accessory kit'. which lie do i want to buy today. do i want to buy the tabloid with aliens on the cover, or the tabloid with demons on the cover. or the zombie shooting videogame that everyone else on this earth plays. or do i strip off my fears and join the logic train and say yes to now. such a hard decision. i'll procrastinate pondering that. and that's the family i come from. the town i live in. the world i stare at with a painful look of befuddlement. like i've got a nuclear fart waiting to turn me into a suicide bummer. get it? i'm a joke that no one laffs at. a rockstar in an empty bar. alien far from home with no car. and now i'm repulsively alone. uncomfortable, in pain, insane, and hopeless. a man destroyed. i saw you turn your heads and lock your doors. living in fear and seclusion. ipods and zombie games for a zombie generation that's too lazy to change the world. which is why we need iron man to do it. i was more of a hero to my wife than any fictional character. and now i'm nonexistent. invisible. i'm so dark, you have to be blind to see me. acquired taste, or acquired sight? i have taste, i have sight, but i don't belong here. i'm made to feel that way every day. sympathy is always minimal to me, but the abuse, they go above and beyond. if you put half the effort into building something that you do destroying everything, we'd have utopia now. i'm sick of waiting for now to be put off till later. i'm sick of digging for a meaningful response. a unanimous 'yes!'. enthusiasm. not apathy. we ignore our dreamers, cause the heroes in the movies are paid more and look hotter. and we don't have to worry about upheaval of our comfortable fears and inhibitions. let's just blame this guy for trying to change us. and roleplay some fictional meaning into our lives via remote control. so we know tmrw will be the same as today. i take comfort in that. fitter, happier, more productive. in denial that i'm completely insane, which is okay, cause i'm completely insane. so i conclude that i do not belong here. neither did john lennon, neither did bill hicks, we're just fine spiraling into darkness and confusion on our own, and we'll blame you for the whole thing and send you packin' anyway. oh, but you can't take yourself out, cause we'll feel lonely, so we'll guilt you into staying miserably until we decide it's your time. and we'll ignore you till you get all old and wrinkly and negative like your grandmother. i'd honestly rather leave you all to figure it out for yourselves. and when you fail, and realize there was some dead dude back there you should have listened to, i'm going to be sitting on arcturus watching you thru a telescope, and i'll laff when i see the puff of smoke. you make it so hard to live in this world, but so hard to die without a guilt trip. i used to know some elementary students who would laff at us. i'll give you a hint. one of those students grew up to be albert einstein. one of my heroes. most of my heroes are either dead or fictional. that's pretty sad. all i ever wanted was to be touched. the day my wife left, i just wanted to be touched. we argued, she left. my soulmate couldn't take the trauma anymore. she saw me go from superhero to little boy, and she couldn't handle that. i don't blame her. no other woman would love me that much. they did a study and found out that people are attracted to their ideal scents. watch it on naked news if you're curious. it's called pheromone dating. naked news also says women won't date men without jobs. which tells me, a: women are shallow and spoiled, and b: perry didn't care about jobs and money. yeah, soulmates! the only two people in the world like that. fucking unicorns. we didn't just love eachother unconditionally. we effortlessly redefined that. we were disgustingly googlesnorts over eachother. but people wanted us apart, and they won. that's no world i want to be a part of. i'm ashamed to associate with humans, so i speak alien, and i think i'll just be proud of being misunderstood until my wrist drains. how's that for a suicide note. did i impress hunter s thompson. this world says suicide is selfish. i say this world is selfish, and it leads to too many suicides. blame us for killing ourselves, but that's on you. take responsibility, and don't let one more dreamer die. we share this world. act like it. you might lose me soon, but learn your lesson, and listen to the next one. we aren't many left.

sobriety and subway

i don't have much money. i never have. nor do i have much luck with money. i am always being ripped off and cheated and just plain stolen from, and i'm so sick of it. i never had an easy chance. the other day, my mother gave me a little money. i went out and bought myself a subway sandwich, the way i like it, that i haven't gotten to have in a long long time. i also bought grandma a salad for which she didn't get her money's worth because she eats like an eighty year old bird. i like my subway sandwich made as a double meat, but the first 'meat' is the subway club, and the second 'meat' is the philly cheesesteak, together on one sandwich. it's good. usually costs me about fifteen bucks. it's not your 'five dollar footlong'. i brought it home, and was only able to eat half of it, because thanks to my drug addict uncle ripping me off, i'm going sober most of this month, and i cannot eat without my pot, because of all the trauma my body has been thru recently, which i couldn't pay my family to sympathize for. literally. i've tried. i offered once to pay them to act like they give a fuck about me. my mother rudely said no, and made it sound insulting for me to ask such a thing. but i wasted half of my special fifteen dollar sandwich, simply because i can't eat it. the rest of the money that my mother gave me was for my monthly supply of regular pot. which was nice of her. but the fact that i have no dealer to buy from. i wish i could make it legal as soon as possible, i hate feeling like a drug addict scumbag like my uncle, who smoked crack in our motel room for his birthday, which traumatized my wife and i, but i guess that's okay. at least my mother is somewhat displeased with my uncle, and wants him out of the house, but i don't see anything getting any better anytime soon. at least you can let this be an advocation for medicinal marijuana, which my uncle doesn't even understand that term, cause he's smoked the definition out of his head with too much crack. but i should be treated like a drug addict just like him, when i am nuthing like him. except in the eyes of my family, who constantly disrespect my namechange, and call me 'fred' all the time, as well as fred himself calling me 'jamal' and 'damone' all the time, like it's cool. now, i am a white boy, i have white skin, but what they do not know, is that if my mother was the black sheep of the family, i'm the black fuckin' hole. i do not exist, and i can prove that, just ask my family where i am. i'm so dark, you have to be blind to see me. i've disappeared into the black hole of poverty and neglect. and no one cares. but right now, that bullshyt doesn't matter. i just wish i could smoke some pot so i could eat something, and i really wish my sandwich was still good. i hate my fucking life, i hate this world, i hate my family, my family hates me, my wife hates me, and i hate myself for what i did to her. i want to die for the way i treated her. i pushed her away, and i never wanted to. you tell me what fucking choice i've had this whole time, over this past two years of my life being mercilessly destroyed by irresponsible people who don't even know they're hurting people. my life is over, my heart is dead, it can no longer be in love, so now my wrist is falling in love with that knife. i'll end this with a line from one of my old poems. 'hey, jesus, would you drop your healing blood, from your wrists down onto me'. i might read my poem wristblood later. and i'd also like to offer this opinion that no one would ever be brave enuph to agree with. but i think that the end of one's life should never be anyone's decision but their own. fuck you, murderers.

alien friends

you know how hard it is for me to find friends? people who share the same interests? here are my interests. i'm an evolutionist with thumbs who's obsessed with evolution. i'm an anarchist who's not interested in money or popular media. i'm a dreamer. i'm a quantum theoretical evolutionist... on acid. who, again, is obsessed with evolution, and wants to meet likeminded people. obsessed with evolution. so obsessed that they know how to spell. i know exactly what i like, and what i don't like. and i like finding the new stuff i like, and not being introduced to it by people i might not like at any point. i like elegance. high class, high style, taste. i'm not a man of wealth and taste. just taste. i like cleanliness, organization, i like desktop customization. i like people to comment on my screenshots, my writings, my taste in music. don't tell me what i should be doing, appreciate what i do. i love nudity and sex, i'm comfortable with myself, and want to be surrounded with others who are comfortable with themselves, and no longer waste time on people who aren't. i've wasted too much of my life on people who just don't care about anything. they're apathetic, uneducated, and overentertained. or, as i call it, underbrained. too much enterbrainment, are you getting me. i hate videogames, they are of zero interest to me. i don't like comic books or fiction books, but i sure do like the movies that come from them. i don't read much, but i do write alot, i think reading books is an unevolved form of education, but i like writing because conversation with disrespectful, uneducated idiots is an unevolved form of communication. i'll handle the writing, you handle the talking you're so good at. i'm sick of being interrupted. i have heroes, and i think everyone should have heroes. most of my heroes are either dead or fictional. but they were all extremely intelligent. i speak like an adult. i think anyone who asks me not to is a child, and i'll treat them like a fuckin' alien. i've been neglected and disrespected my whole life by these idiots who not just expect, but demand respect. well, it's a two way street. i know how i like to live, and the last girl who truly appreciated it... let's just say my family and my ex traumatized us, and because of the trauma, we hurt eachother too much. but we were in love till the day she left. people don't put enuph meaning into words anymore. like the word soulmate. how about this, we were completely googlesnorts over eachother. i never wanted to hurt her. i hate humanity because no one is intelligent enuph to give me reinforcing support, rather than opinionated and controlling 'constructive criticism'. and these people call themselves friends, and family. you're idiots who don't know what the fuck you're talking about, and should shut up and listen once in a while. i want someone who truly values the shyt i do. because i'm tired of wasting time on people who claim to with their words, but don't 'do the walkin' with their actions. i've always wanted to have a group of like ten or twenty close friends, who all enjoy being naked together, fucking eachother, or at least touching eachother, and don't have to just constantly bitch about shyt they don't like, but enjoy the shyt they do like, and just hang out in a big house together, enjoying the same food, and the same music, and i get to be the dj most of the time, but don't have to worry about not being the dj, because no one is going to play any stupid music i don't like. and it's not just a big house with ten or twenty of us, but there's more around the house, a whole community of people who all share the same goals. not just interests, but goals. we all wake up every morning at sunrise, go to the food house, smoke pot, have sex openly, talk about evolution, listen to good music, and i shouldn't even have to say 'good music', i wish i could just call it 'the tunes'. 'hey, let's play some tunes', or 'hey, turn the tunes down, the movie's starting'. i wish i could let other people choose the music. but everytime they do, they put on pop and rap, what the fuck is with you people, can't some of you have good taste in music? are you all really that scared of being 'unpopular'. cause i think that's unhealthy, and you're mental, and you're filling the world with idiots and clones of idiots, and we need to evolve, which i started off saying, maybe you should read this whole thing again and pay more attention, instead of just criticising in your head as you read this. i miss my lady, she would have thought this post was awesome. heroic even. she would have hugged me and smiled for it. people like her don't exist in this world. so, after reading all of that gibberish twice, let's see if the dream takes flight. happy birthday, newton.

"Copyright This, Mutherfucker" - Bill Hicks II: The Sequel!

'yippykayayyy, mutherfucker'. (or whoever the fuck you text it these days). oh, wait, i forgot the quotes. rewind. camera clicks. fade to voiceover.

hey, can i copyright the phrase, i am going to go to the store. ? no? okay, well, how about the phrase, 'i'm going to the mutherfuckin' store, dinglewhopper! ? yes? no? okay, how about the phrase, 'lunatic fringe, i know you're out there'. ? no? someone already copyrighted that one? damn. cause i think it's a cool phrase that should be said alot while we're trying to bring humanity together and unite as a collective planetary consciousness, while letting selfishness and greed and ownership over nonsense and monetary material crap go (shyt, i posted it two minutes too soon, and forgot to proofread). people we don't know telling us all how to live, that makes more sense. okay, can i copyright that phrase then? how about this for a question. can i legally claim that i am the reincarnation of bill hicks, or would that be like the ultimate copyright infringement lawsuit. would his mother sue me. cause i wouldn't want her to do that, i love her. just because i was born in the wrong fuckin' city. can i copyright that phrase? how many words constitutes a phrase you can copyright? cause 'lunatic fringe, i know you're out there', first of all, it has the word 'fringe' in it. can i copyright the phrase 'don't sue me for copyright infringement', that's six words. 'lunatic fringe, i know you're out there', that's seven words. well, six and a letter. can you copyright a letter? cause my symbol and actual signature is ø. my name is ozzy draven. ooh, that might be a legal issue. named myself after ozzy osbourne and eric draven in the crow, uh oh. i didn't think of that. i was copyright infringing on marilyn manson's idea, sorry. i thought it was kind of a 'natural born killers' thing to do. he wanted to combine ugly and beauty, yeah, whatever, i wanted to combine reality and dreams, fiction, fantasy, imagination, cause i'm a fuckin' dreamer, like john lennon, people quote his song all the time, but some people don't always mention his name with it, cause it's such a popular phrase, everyone knows it, especially in a time when we're coming together as a collective consciousness, and all that jazz. ooh, i said the phrase, 'and all that jazz', that's four words, is that copyrighted? oh, shit, it is. by who? fuck, i don't know, am i gonna get sued cause i didn't say their name? damn, i can't even legally ask this question then, that doesn't make sense. okay, well, the phrase, 'i am going to go to the store' is a common phrase, it's, let's see, eight words, or seven and a letter for the people who claim logic as their god. people who see it with three eyes, kinda like the doctor in 'patch adams'. oh, that's a fictional story. well, at least it was a functional story. imagination tends to do that. that's kinda why i like it, and chose it as the other half of my fuckin' name, cause i'm a dreamer. but i guess being a dreamer is copyrighted, too. shyt. people go crazy over that selfish, greedy shyt, don't they. and they get mad when idiots like shia labeouf don't fuckin' do it right. douchebag. okay, let's see how many people in this world have ever downloaded a torrent, or stolen something, or committed any other theft crime, especially the ones that really suck, like identity theft. my ex stole from stores all the time, my uncle stole from my family all his life to support his psychotic drug habit. oh, sorry, i forgot to tell you, i separated the drug categories into psychedelics and psychotics, and i don't do the psychotics, cause i'm not fucking retarded. and i use the word retarded the way christopher titus does, so don't flood your tampon, shut up. oh, wait, i bet that's copyrighted, goddamnit. is it a phrase or a concept, i don't know. it's a whole fuckin' comedy bit, i just ripped off christopher titus, damn. sorry, dude. well, at least i said your name, i guess i'm safe for now. i also downloaded a torrent of his, but also once owned a dvd of his before i lost it all, including all my own unpublished, uncopyrighted creative work and verbal art that pretty much proved that i am the reincarnation of bill hicks, but i guess that's a legal issue now. fuck. i don't have the evidence cause some dickhead thief stole my computer from me. fuckin' thieves, i hate them, don't you? goddamnit. oh, wait, i just admitted that i download a titus torrent, fuck, i bet he'll sue me now. please don't sue me, dude, i'm a huge fan, and i do have a letter i wrote you about how much you've inspired me to stay the fuck alive! does that count? can you not sue me please, i promise when i get more money, and rebuild my life, i'll buy plenty of your shyt, i really really promise, cause you're a huge inspiration to me, why wouldn't i. fuck, i'm claiming to be the reincarnation of bill hicks, i kinda have to, don't i? makes sense to me. i mean who knows who's the reincarnation of who, we don't know, do we. can i copyright that phrase. or is it a concept. i want to be selfish and greedy with that one, it's mine, i don't want anyone stealing it and saying it without saying my name along with it. wait a minute, no i fuckin' don't. i don't want to be greedy and selfish with that one, i want everyone saying it, i want it to be a common phrase. oh, shyt, i just legally changed my mind, publicly, too. fuck, what do i do, do i sue myself now? oh, shyt, paranoia, run, hide, they're all out to hurt you! aaahhh! cause you know what, honestly, when it comes down to it, i'm tired of the debate, i'll close jimmy pineapple's fuckin' case right the fuck right now, i honestly think i'm the reincarnation of alot of dead fuckin' thinkers. dead heroes, as tool says. they're my heroes. i think we need some fuckin' heroes, these days, cause we have no hope. some of my heroes are fictional, and some are functional. real. mostly dead. but they did some serious thinking, advancing us forward toward a united consciousness. my heroes. bill hicks, terence mckenna, albert einstein, isaac newton, who i named my cat after, i miss little newton, my family stole him from me, can i sue them for that? that one hurt, he was my awesome cat, i didn't choose to become homeless and lose everything, it was other people's irresponsibilities that fucked my life up, destroyed me, almost killed me, and traumatized me, and fucked me up, but can i sue them for all that shyt? cause it sucked, and they did alot of wrong things, or at least i claim, but i'm probly just insane, so none of it was right, right? can i copyright that, then, and at least make some money off it? cause i'm sure that's happened to another few of our fellow earthwalkers of level ground a time or two, i could make a movie about it, and tell that story, cause it needs to be fucking told, i think. oh, wait, i think it already was. i'm sorry that when i was homeless, i was such a fuckin' nuisance to your happyness. oh, wait, i bet the word happyness is copyrighted now, even though it was a fictional misspelling based on a true story, fuck, that makes so much sense, i'm legally confused. wow, how much greed do you think that's worth. can i buy some stock in that one? i bet someone's makin' a dime off it. dimebag, can i copyright that? it was dimebag's name, he's a dead hero of mine. someone once said, it was the worst death since john lennon, or something like that, i can't quote, sorry, i can't quite remember the actual phrase, or who said it. shyt, i'm gonna get sued, someone's angry, i can feel it, i should know, i was traumatized by angry people, and developed my own anger issues. can i sue them and copyright it all. but anyway, without all the confusion, let me stay on topic, that is a way i have been traumatized lately. someone said dimebag's death was the worst death since john lennon. i agree, so that's why i said it, too, cause it was helping my point, which i'm getting back to. wait, what was my point. oh, yeah. i remember. it was back at the jimmy pineapple part, okay. it's a good thing i'm writing this, i have no one to tell it to. everyone hates me. can i copyright that phrase, 'everyone hates me'. ? i wanna put it on a shirt and wear it, and take a picture of it, and copyright the picture, and put that image on a shirt, copyright it, and sell it, cause i think that would be a cool idea, and then i wanna copyright that idea, cause i could make enuph money to get back the life that i lost when i was homeless, including all the shyt i wrote that i can't get back. hell, i could have enuph money to hire a hacker to track down my computer. i certainly wouldn't want to hire a tracker to hack down my computer, and that's pretty much what happened to me. can i sue them for that? oh, good. well, it sucks actually, cause i'll never even know who did it. i know it was someone in the oasis apartments in tucson arizona around the time of april 2013, i'm sure they might have a list of names, or a history or something, and you could get the fb fuckin' i to investigate and interrogate those people and waterboard the fucker who did it, right? cause i'm an american, and patriotic people should back me on that, they're selfish enuph. claiming land, i don't even like those people, i'm not even patriotic for this planet, i feel like an alien who can't even prove he's been here twice legally in this place, it's too illogical and legal. can i legalize logic. like make it an actual religion or something. that would be cool. i'll copyright that. and i want to copyright 'everyone hates me', and also the thing i was saying about jimmy pineapple, getting back to the point and cutting to the end of the fuckin' debate right the fuck right now. i like to say that phrase alot, i think it's cool. i think i'm the reincarnation of alot of dreamers, because the concept i'd like to copyright and sell and make money off of, is this. i think there's a part of our collective consciousness that is from somewhere outside this consciousness, and he keeps peeking in from time to time, or a few of them maybe, and donating their wisdom and knowledge to us, to guide us in a better direction, toward uniting as one, is that concept already copyrighted by tool. shyt. well, cause i just built onto it, i guess that's illegal, too, huh. damn, i can't even think anymore. you made illegal for your heroes and dreamers and that certain spirit who reincarnates whenever the fuck they want, whoever they are, and however many of them there are, but that big fuckin' brain that stops by once in a while, you know, that guy. what's his name, i can't think of it right now, i'm trying to stick to the point. oh, yeah, jimmy pineapple, the thing i was saying, ending the debate, right now. there's a consciousness on this planet, that's all we know. it's growing out of this planet. right now, it looks like a fuckin' virus, in bill hicks' copyrighted opinion, but i quote that concept alot, so does his friend joe rogan. yeah, the debate. what i wanted to say back there, the first time i said it, was how many people do you think i just copyright infringed in that one little part. i'll copy and paste the whole bit right here.

cause you know what, honestly, when it comes down to it, i'm tired of the debate, i'll close jimmy pineapple's fuckin' case right the fuck right now, i honestly think i'm the reincarnation of alot of dead fuckin' thinkers. dead heroes, as tool says.

okay, how many people do you think i stole words from right there. let's see, there's bill hicks, of course. and all i did was add jimmy pineapple's name to that part of the quote, and then i quoted phil anselmo, cause that's copyrighted on pantera's live cd, but dimebag got sued after he was killed for using the word dimebag as a name, cause that system loved raping corpses, and just had to fuck up as much as they could before they were no longer relevant in the eye of consciousness... oh, wait, i'm still in 2014, shyt. i almost reincarnated again. i have been wanting to kill myself after all the trauma, so i guess that's legally copyrightable, right? is that wrong? is this whole concept wrong? fuck.

well, who cares, i'm going for it, i'm still going to end the debate right now, because i think i can copyright this thing and end up in lewis black's starbucks universe cafe. wait, is that copyrighted with the cafe, or the café. does everyone know how to do those symbols now, or is it still 2014. ah, okay, we're still texting, gotcha. can't copyright that part yet. fuck. well, anyway, still getting to the point. ending the debate. remember, i have been traumatized. my mind isn't exactly legal. but i have copyrighted the phrase 'i'm out of my mind and never going back', because it used to be an intentional choice of my own to take lsd, but that's illegal, so i can't copyright it. anyway, the point. the debate. let's see, where was i. oh, yeah. there's a spirit out there, and i don't think if he reincarnated, he would want to copyright himself. here's my concept that i will copyright someday when i get enuph money to actually legally do so, i mean i want to patent this sumbitch. wait, is 'sumbitch' copyrighted? fuck, then how about 'git r done'. do i have to do it with the dashes? i think if we all copyright infringe sued eachother, we'd end up in a lewis black universe where starbucks is like an evil dictator enslaving us all, and tying us up with dollar bills, and raping us with a copyrighted big black cock of death, and i can't do bill hicks' satan voice after that, cause i'm writing this. remember, i have no one to tell, everyone hates me. remember, i copyrighted that phrase and put it on a tshirt. oh, wait, i haven't done that yet. fuck, this linear time shyt sucks for my enlightened spirit, or legal brain, whichever eyes you're reading this thru. for people with glasses, click here. oh, wait, that's copyrighted by google. fuck, even the word google is copyrighted, i'm confused, can i say google me legally? i can't say that? shyt, man, who owns that one. oh, wait, it's 2014, i'm still talking to myself, there's no one actually here. i guess was traumatized, i'm writing this idea. shyt, that's bad. is that a legal issue. cause i'm going to clear up the debate before it happens right fucking now. i would like to copyright the phrase, 'i am going to go to the store'. i also want to copyright a future rant of mine, called 'noam sane', but i want to copyright the concept before i actually write it, because i'm about to be sued for it. someone got angry. (i should say here, that in the year 2014, it's still illegal to read this, so be careful).

here's something i never got to copyright and lost. the phrase, 'if you tell someone they have anger issues, and they get angry at you... hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!'. cause i put that on a tshirt five years from now, and it gets put in the forest gump sequel. you'll love it, it's not even conceived yet. wait, did i spell conceived right. the point is, if something is a legal issue because of selfishness and greed, it makes it impossible for my soul to reincarnate in a logical fashion. and that doesn't make any sense to me, so i'm going to leave this world legally. i'll sue myself and end up in lewis black's butt. at least there's coffee there. or something brown. don't worry about it, the point is, i want to copyright the phrase 'i am going to go to the store', and it's eight words, it's an official phrase, and fifty thousand years ago, they once proved it was legally uncommon enuph to be copyrighted, but those documents were burnt in the alexandria fire, so it doesn't matter anyway when you look at it with three eyes. anyway. the point. i want to copyright it so i can end up in lewis black's butt. is that legal? can i do that? have i already asked a lawyer? judges? oh, wait, it's 2014, i'm not in alice cooper's guillotine on the reality show yet. okay, still safe. but you know what the truth is. this is what the reincarnation of bill hicks would legally say, by the way, and it was legally proven in the year 2032, the year of bill hicks, so we're clear. oh, wait, that's not copyrighted yet, no we're not, shyt, call the fbi!. wait, is it with the ! or the . ? the way i write makes alot of sense, doesn't it? haha.

okay, ending the debate, i swear i'm going to stay on topic here. this all gets famous a year from now, so stick to it. sorry, my past life was talking to me again. the q is talking to me, the q is talking to me! sorry, denis leary quote, just to piss him off. don't sue me, i'm just joshin' with ya, dude. i'm sure i spelled that one right. i saw someone text it wrong though, and he got sued. here's the point. when it's all said and done, and the debate is over, and we all agree, here's the thing. get this. cause i wanna copyright it, it's fuckin' great. i'll even start a new paragraph, just so you can pay attention.

when it's all said and done, we can't copyright shyt. because everyone says 'i'm going to the store', and not 'i am going to go to the store'. but i want to say 'lunatic fringe, i know you're out there' in a poem of mine, which i already did in a past life as well. i want to quote myself, get it? oh, wait, this is still 2014, and reincarnation isn't legal yet. what a conundrum. if we want to get perfectly legal about this, and tighten up our assholes instead of loosening our minds, we can really think about this. like a thinker would do. it's stupid to pick and choose which phrases we can be greedy and selfish over, and which ones are common enuph, it creates a legal issue that keeps us from entering a united consciousness, and our future splits off, and we don't get to michio kaku's utopia. this is the reality where michio kaku dies, and i am quoting men in black four. wait, is it with the iv, or the four, we don't know yet, do we. yeah. when it's all said and done, how do you know you can't reincarnate and sue your past life for copyright infringing your current life? how do you know? you know how you don't know? because the truth is, and i'm quoting the legal reincarnation of bill hicks here, the truth is, when it's all said and done, when it all comes down to it, you don't know what the fuck is out there. you don't. you fucking don't. you legally don't. and i can prove it. you don't even know what the fuck is in your own mutherfuckin' mind, man. and i partially quoted the crow there. you can't legally prove or disprove reincarnation yet, and that's what makes it magical. that's life, this reality bubble we're all together in. john lennon's reincarnation once said that, but we never proved who it was. what a fuckin' tragedy. oh, wait, who am i quoting there.

so, when you want to argue about greed, and selish people, and shia labeouf, you can take my cock out of your ass and sue me with it, cause i just stole from you and copyrighted it. but hey, i'll be okay, cause i'll be in lewis black's butt, and you'll all be in the wrong future without me, so, i'd say it all works out fine. it's what you all wanted, and my soul never should have come here. so i take back all my files and all my past life files, including john lennon and bill hicks, which puts you in a legal bind of your own confusion, and i'm going home. as if i was never here, which is a fictional concept, and if you want, you can sue goatboy@billhicks.com

so, now that i legally can't exist anymore, i'm going to post this online, and see what people think of it. then they can read my twitter, and laff at shia labeouf, and beat the shyt out of me, and we'll all laff and become one, and live happily ever after in michio kaku's utopia. yes, i fucking did it. so, now i can legally say the phrase...

that's the fuck how you fuckin' do it, shia, you fuckin' douchewank!!!

and now i want to copyright that phrase, and put it on a tshirt, and take a picture of me and shia both wearing it, and copyright that, and sell those tshirts to people, and get rich. oh, wait, we're still in 2014, shyt, now he can sue me for stealing from jim carrey. cause that's too bad, man. cause i think it was also jim carrey who said...

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssmokinnnnn'!

but i put that at the end of my already copyrighted song, 'i'm bringing thinking back', which proves the point anyway, so we're all good. legally, you can't do shyt to me. cause i'm a fuckin' genius. wow, that was pretty cool, i think i'm gonna smoke some pot now, and imagine myself being a mutant while i watch x-men. have fun deciphering this.

oh, yeah, i forgot the ending. haha. fuckin' linear time, man. bill hicks quoted jimmy pineapple when he said, 'case fucking closed'. is that copyrighted? i believe it was jim carrey, who said, 'i believe it was shia labeouf who said that'. ooh, that's gonna make some greedy selfish people mad. my trauma tells me i can feel the fbi getting in their big black suvs. is that just in the movies, or do they actually do that in a functional really real world, too. cause in the really real world, and i'm quoting the crow here, as ozzy draven could do, cause i'm real, and i claim logic as my god... in the really real world, there ain't no comin' back.

fuck, that's a confusing concept if you're a christian, isn't it. or a government official, too. damn, i bet i just pissed all of them off all at once. you're gonna see another waco on cnn, man, i'm so dead. bill hicks saw waco. which means, i saw it, but i technically wasn't there, cause it's illegal copyrightwise to claim yourself as the reincarnation of anyone. fuck. i'll just sue myself, pay everyone else, and kill myself. that should make y'all happy. sorry i stole this entire concept from myself, i'm a fuckin' no good thief, and should never be forgiven. especially by christians who forgive. wait, didn't bill hicks say that one? damn. that's like going up to jackie with a rifle pendant, they don't like hearing that. i'm quoting so many versions of myself, i can't keep up, this thought is so far out there, it's illegal. and dangerous. or, dangerously sane, i say. which bill hicks would also say, if he were still 'round here, boy. but anyway, back to the point.

oh, wait, i wrote the jim carrey parts in the wrong order, shyt! nooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!......................................... (plop!)

ah, man, it's not coffee! fuck.

google this, it's not science, is that fair?

on google today, it says 'your idea could change the world, enter the google science fair'. well, i have an idea, but... it's not science. the ideas they're looking for are to keep society functioning dependently on money, because that's how people like google and facebook function so well. if alot of lives can't function, everything works better in a monetary world. selfishness, greed, wealth, all those things are possible for a few, if the world is full of too many people, and some of them have the hardest time, and hey, we'll just blame that on them. oh, they didn't get a good enuph education, or they didn't try hard enuph. forgive me if i was never interested in your daily grind rat race for dream sized dollar bill. my dreams were bigger than that. sorry. the schools weren't teaching what i wanted to learn. they wouldn't let me take the computer classes, i guess because i was already too advanced for the typing class with typewriters. school was a waste of time for me, they weren't teaching what terence mckenna was. i would love to have some computer programming skills, i've got plenty of ideas for that. but the idea i, as an evolutionist, would donate to google's science fair, they'd never take.

it's called the dreamer society. poets aren't dead, they're just being ignored and replaced by marionettes. john lennon is the rockstar we should be pretending is still alive, fuck elvis, he was a show pony. i know that will piss alot of people off. we all know, but some deny, that there are two sides to this media circus. the talented artists, and then there's the marionettes most of the artists used to hate. i thought rap metal would be the end of it. this eighties cocaine dance party just won't fucking die, and it's suffocating the real artists, and now we even have them bitching about downloading, because they're blinded by a dollar bill, too. hey, guys, i'm an artist, too, and guess what, i don't make shyt. i lost half my art, because i couldn't afford to even release it and get famous, wow, try having my life. i just overcame six months of homelessness and lost everything, including a wealth of my art. but i won't get famous because my art depicts a world without the dollar, hmm. yeah, that's fair. the trauma i've gone thru isn't worth my foot in your golden door. i've hated money since i was born. was it because i was born into the black hole of poverty in the most nonexistent town right next to the show. let me inform the world here. right behind the bright cancer of los angeles, there's a little turd on the map called tucson, that no one gets out of alive. i invite you to do your research, go to imdb, and find one star that's gotten out of tucson. go on wikipedia, find any musical artist from tucson. find anything that's made it out of this vortex. and then ask me why i wasted ten years of my life on a stupid woman, just because i had two kids with her. and then let her irresponsibly throw me and the love of my life into homelessness. yeah, wait till i publish the book about it. no one is reading this, don't worry.

but we all know that there are two sides to this media circus, and i remember that one side used to hate the other. and one side used to be more talented than the other. but we're all being suffocated, and no one really has the balls to point out who's holding the pillow, not even our boldest metal bands. don't get me wrong, i love your movies, they're a huge part of my inspiration. but i'm sure we could still make a bad ass action movie without that ugly green paper existing in this world. i'm sorry if that idea bothers you, but if you're bitching about not being able to make your movie, try bitching about losing all your art and being homeless, jackass. you feel a little greedy now, don't you. that's what the dollar has done to us. i've lost alot of ears talking about this, but i feel it's a revolutionary, evolutionary idea that someone else in this world might like. there has to be someone. someone else out there who doesn't like the dollar. someone who has been poor. some artist or dreamer who dreams of joining a whole society of people like them. if i'm all alone, that's sad, and i feel like dying like a unicorn and leaving this world in it's own pathetic darkness. now there's a movie you can make. expensive special effects, oh, go all out. far out, man. spiral out, keep going. oh, did i just rip someone off, sorry. i'm not a fan of copyrights either. any form of greed and selfishness, i think, is just stupid. the dollar has confused the fuck out of us, and made us all so... eh... just disconnected. and oh, don't forget about war and terrorism to worry about, too, we have to throw more dollars at that.

but i'd like just one other person to stand with me and admit that this world would be alot better off without money. a system built on bloody dollars and violence is just not logical. science is logical. evolution is logical. poverty and the shyt i've been thru because of it... no. not logical. half the world being poorer than the rest, lives being destroyed, yeah, real fuckin' smart. go on youtube and watch any video of michio kaku talking about a type one civilization, and then start defending your dollar. yeah, yes, i am a fucking dreamer. by now, some might think i'm a bigger dreamer than john lennon, i'm so close to genius, i'm straight out the door of my fuckin' head. my pineal gland is wildly open, yes sir. i'm so crazy, i think i'm picturing a better future than we're capable of, how's that. i'll put that up against any delusion you've ever had. google that, see if freud's got anything on it. hurry up, we don't have much time before people with expensive suits knock down my cardboard door and put me in a smaller box. and i like my coat better. hee hee ha ha, you get it. but right now, i'm picturing in my head... a division. it's coming thru the hole in my third eye, it's a digital fax from a future michio kaku, saying there's a division of humanity coming. thanks to the possible legalization of marijuana, we're already forming our opinions. and the internet, with blogs and youtube, is making it alot easier for artists to still have their voice, but the dollar is becoming less relevant, less abundant, and more painful. the rich who support the system will divide from the poor who don't support it. or, i should say it like it's the poor people's choice. the poor will divide from the rich. i call our side, the dreamer society. yes, i'm a fucking dreamer, aren't i. i should be. your world needs one. deny this logic all you want, but it's logic. the language alot of people refuse to listen to, and that's kinda why we're in this mess.

patriotic people would argue the logic of this, but one of your 'founding fathers' once said, when the people are afraid of the government, it's tyranny. but when the government is afraid of its people, it's liberty. some are under the delusion that we still have liberty, but those people have bigger wallets, i think they're getting paid to say that. let's listen to someone with a small wallet, no, let's listen to someone who can't afford to buy a wallet, and then we'll call them crazy, turn up the tv, and go back to sleep. well, i was homeless, and i'm certainly crazier than shyt, and have no credibility, but i do have my logical words, and i'm one of those artist dreamers that still believe the pen is mightier than the sword, no matter how much your sword cost you. put it back in your pants, we're tired of being fucked by it. is that my blood on there, oh nevermind. i'm just an artist, i don't matter, i'm not talented enuph to make enuph money to be on your radar, don't worry about me. i live in a turdonthemap ghost town. i've written poems about this place, but no one read them. yeah, right there behind the bright lights, that's me, take a left, watch the mud. signs in your office say 'i'd love to help you out, which way did you come in'. signs in my city say 'i'd love to help you out, but this is an illusion, there is no way out'. david gilmour is playing. we all know that snappy old tune. 'there's no way out of here, when you come in, you're in for good'. oh, yeah, love that song. they don't play songs like that on the radio anymore. or songs like 'we won't get fooled again', i think we forgot about that one. or 'ohio', man. or 'imagine', wow, i could be my own radio station these days, but how many of you would listen. yeah, i'm a rich and famous artist who obviously deserves to be, aren't i. no, i'm one of those wannabe collectors who's lucky they have the computer and the internet, because i never wanted a job, i wanted to smoke alot of pot and dream all day, and write my dreams, and be an artist who people like him for him and not his wallet. what a fuckin' dreamer. i guess it doesn't matter since i lost it all anyway, right. i even typed up the perfect defense for downloaders, but nuthing matters in this world, so it doesn't even matter that i lost it. all we show on apathy tv anymore, is heartbreak and destruction of lives, and boy does it sell like dollar bills. what a fuckin' scam. if that's what you're interested in, i'd rather be a dreamer living the poorest life possible, because thru pain comes the most beautiful art. i'm not a soulless hack hanging off the thousand dollar fishing line. and i can prove it. my art is almost unheard of. and most of it's even gone! how's that.

but i picture a society of people who walk around naked, smoking pot, huge fucking smiles, surrounded by beautiful art from talented people, and not a single one of them has a single dollar bill anywhere near them. there's no cops, no guns, no suits and ties, it almost looks like woodstock, except alot bigger. all those people tripping acid at woodstock, you know, most of your parents... they didn't go to that concert and conceive you for nuthing. now goddamnit, drop your dollar and your selfpitying bullhorn, and play an actual fucking song. play from your fucking heart. and get that fucking marionette off the stage, we want someone with a real smile on their real face. we paid eighty bucks and alot of blood for this show, and we can see the cocaine on your nose. the eighties coke party is over, pantera said it back in ninetysix. we're forgetting our real artists cause we're not listening to them, and we're killing most of them. i heard someone say that the death of dimebag was the worst death since john lennon. and his name was dimebag, you don't get anymore obvious, come on people, open your fucking eyes. you're killing your real artists because you're listening to the ones who don't have dreams. psychedelic drugs are responsible for your dreams, look it up. dimethyltryptamine on wikipedia, go ahead, i dare you. you can't see the billion dollar corporate stick up their ass, propping them up. look at their drug history. in my town, it's either sober system supporters, or methheads and crackroaches. that's all we have here, and they all listen to pop and rap. not a single one of them has heard of john lennon, come down here, i'll show you myself, i'll give you the grand tour. it's an overgrown retirement town, you can't even find psychedelic drugs here, they don't exist in this backward delusion, we just get the leftover drugs from cancer city, sorry, los angeles, the town of lost angels, if you can see thru the cracked out crying angels in glitter and glam, you can see the ghosts of dead artists in my town who never made it out, and really never existed, since not one person could believe in them in this selfish town. the sober people are just as crazy as the methheads, i should know, they're both in my family. you wanna argue my point now, go ahead. let's see what you've got.

i'll be brutally, harshly, hurtfully honest with you. your wonderful pop music fans are some of the idiots responsible for my homelessness. i'd like to see a society of people who are so intelligent, there are no more dramatic arguments from bad actors. i already see it in my head, and it's been ten years since i've done acid, so you tell me. i see a division coming. where the lawbreakers separate from the lawmakers. all the potheads, poor people, unheard artists. think about it. how many people does your expensive society reject.

i wrote a beautiful song just before i became homeless, it was called 'god's gravity', and it was about poverty, and i wish i could remember it, cause it was good, i loved it like a child, it made a hell of a point, and it was painful, poetic, passionate. inspirational. everything true art should be. and it's gone forever. i'll never get to make that song famous for all the fans who would have liked it. do you think that scar is worth the loss of your dollar in a future society. that future is not too far off, you might want to start thinking about it. i'm off now, i've been ranting long enuph, and i'm starving, and trying to watch silver linings playbook with my freshly broken heart and wet eyes. they're my only friends right now. kinda like the gun in that song... was it alice in chains rooster, or metallica disposable heroes, i can't remember, i don't own them anymore. but still, pretty sad. i wrote a song about that, too. how sad this is. i still have it, though, if you'd care to read it. it's called shed my skin, enjoy it. i can't afford to put music to it yet, but hopefully this world will change soon, i'm having some big fuckin' dreams. too bad my blog isn't famous, but hey, pop music fans don't read anymore, and i know that for a fact, they can't even spell texting right. so don't bitch at me about my taste in music anymore, i think i just put that to rest. finally. one of your founding fathers also said, 'god forbid we go two generations without a revolution'. yeah, i'm a fan of titus, too. my poem, god's gravity, ended on the lines, 'the only solution i can see from my hell, is for your expensive heaven to fall'. i miss that poem. it took me two hours to write this. how much do you think i should get paid for my two hours. hmm? guess what, i don't want your money. i want the dreamer society. that's what i'm interested in. look how far your dollars have brought you, thru a repetitious cycle of blood, sweat, tears, and tastey sacrifice. oh, look at that, my steak is here.

random facts of verbal yearning

we don't give a jolly jack fuck about fashion. we care more about passion.
the perfect blend between heavenly and heavy. ozztek radio.
i want to fucking die! i hate this stupid fucking world!
all those cool lines i ever came up with, nuthing matters anymore.
my dreams still matter to me, so that's all i'm doing now.
reinventing style... one scam at a time.
her smiles could take me miles in style.
is no one in this stupid world capable of any true sympathy.
when a girl believes in a guy, it can turn a nerd into a superhero.
when a girl leaves a guy, it can turn any superhero into a pathetic wifebeating douchebag live on cnn. and youtube.
i am so fucking depressed.
i wish i had anyone to talk to.
i wish i still had anyone who believed in me.
i wish this stupid playground world had some fucking sympathy.
i can't even find sympathy on google.
is anyone else fucking with me on this.
your last dreamer is about to die like a unicorn.
would it even matter if i still told the whole story.
so much forgotten information, it's almost like my brain hates its own past.

alternate scene: we don't give a jolly jack flubberfuck about fashion.
what fucking eighties dance party are you crashin'.
ditch the coke, your life's a joke. learn to smoke.
technology is bringing new shyt into fashion, and it's not you.
pot. nudity. dreams. google it.
you and your fashion glambag of coke are out of style.
i crashed the party. find a bong and get with it.
we don't need to plastic credit card our noses,
to prop up our corpses at the party anymore. there's the door.
the future is time to relax,
cause there are no drama drunk idiots like you left to worry about.
shut up, turn off the popular music, take off the eighty layers of fear,
and let me help you see the future you were blind to.

and finally, the epic, nonsensical, yet inspirational ending:
and would people please stop bitching about my hands.
the last time i got sick was a year ago, i walked into a fry's and breathed.
i'm sick of people dictating how i live in your society.
if you want me to function in your society the way it demands,
first you have to prove to me that your society is functional.
and sane and logical.
i used to be a dirty handed superhero. now i ain't shyt.
i guess i dated a blowfish. a pufferfish?
she wasn't even that good at sucking, and never touched me.
our last argument was because i wanted her to touch me.
but i still loved every little piece of her.
i'll always miss my dirty hand lover,
no matter how far away she fades.
unconditional love.
she taught me that.
and you idiots want me to wash my hands for you.
you losers who have never done shyt for me.
and don't involve your dollars in this.
dollars aren't sympathy. dollars don't even buy sympathy.
they sure as fuck can't buy you unconditional love.
or didn't you watch any of those movies.

i'd rather have dirty hands and a girl who loves them,
than a fist full of dollars, and the women who love that.
before you sell me your society product again,
you should understand, your society is of no interest to me.

i'm creating my own.

with whom, you ask?

let me ask you, how many people has your society rejected. mmm.

logical ladies wanted

i'm going to go ahead and be just brutally honest about what i'm looking for in my next partner. i'm basically looking for a pet, or a slave, or something of that nature. an assistant, an employee, whatever you want to call it. i know it's an offensive concept, but to me, it's what i really need at this point in my life. no more stress, i need someone who can do the job of loving me, because i've been told that's what it is, so why not be honest with myself about it, as well as my future partners. i think that's fair, and there has to be a fish in the sea who would actually want that. unless we have no individuality left from all those videogames. someone who can follow orders, although i hate that term. just do what i ask, that's all i ask. i don't want any more arguments with people i give my heart to. i want to choose the music and the movies, i keep a very clean living area, i'm organized, i don't like clutter or having too much stuff. i like a clean, minimal life, in a calm environment, and i'm tired of people ruining that. i want a life mate who has no trouble staying calm and clean, and living a simple life. i'm a collector of things, i like that to be appreciated. i love learning and reseaching all sorts of things, and i need my time to do that. it keeps my mind working well, and if you want my mind working well, i need my thinking time. i have recently been thru trauma that has damaged all of that, and i have lost everything in my life. i want to meet someone who not only can i rebuild with, but it's easy to do so, and i can enjoy it with someone who appreciates what i do. i do not live in the normal 'job' lifestyle, and never will, so if you want someone with a big wallet, keep moving. i have never liked money, so i try to avoid it at all costs, and live comfortably on what i have. i'm happy that way, and i want someone else who's happy that way. my ex always wanted candy from the corner store, munchies, and it drained me way too much, even with her money included. i've always been responsible with money and life, and i usually get accused of not being so by people who are obviously worse than i. and i'm syck of that. i want someone who motivates me and makes it easy for me to get far away from my idiot family this time. and not have to come back after i lose the girl and everything else of mine. i've always hated starting over, but this time i want to make it the best and last time i start over and rebuild. i will not lose another tv to a girl. it's not easy for me to buy a new life every time my heart gets broken. i also have never liked monogamy, but have never gotten the chance to step outside those bounds comfortably with someone who trusts me and won't develop jealousy issues that will cause arguments. my mistake with my ex, was that i couldn't just hold her and comfort her when she was angry, because i had been to overtraumatized as well.

i do not like being recommended movies or music, i like to search and discover my own, and impress people with what i've found. i've been told by many people, even exgirlfriends after we've split, that tell me as well as others, that i have an excellent, very sophisticated, high class taste in music. people should ask me what i like, not tell me what they like that i should listen to. i worked at a record store, chances are, i've already heard it, hearing it again will not change my mind about it. i also despise videogames, i'm tired of staring at the back of a lady's head for hours a day, and feeling less important to them than a stupid game. i devote all my time to you, i ask the same in return. i may stare at my computer for hours, but i don't get so stuck on it that i can't look away, because it's not an interactive game that needs me to keep pressing buttons and saying 'hold on' for five hours. 'just let me pass this level' twenty levels ago. those people don't deserve dates, in my opinion. unless they date eachother, then they deserve eachother. i want those people out of my life for good. people trying to corrupt my musical tastes are just as bad. i also do not watch television. i do watch netflix and the like, but mainly because i can choose what i see and cut the fat.

speaking of fat, i also do not want to date any more overweight women. i know it sounds disgustingly shallow, but if you knew my past, you'd understand. i wasted fifteen years of my life on big women, and while i have no issues with them friendshipwise, i do not want to be romantic with them anymore. my first real long term girlfriend, i spent six years with her, and then my next girlfriend, i spent about eight years on her, and then my last girlfriend, for a year and a half, was the thinnest, most beautiful woman i had ever been with, and i only got to be with her for a year and a half. i've always had a serious fascination with beautiful women. i've always wanted to touch them, and with the exception of my last girlfriend, have never ever gotten to touch one. she wasn't exactly a 'hardbody model', but i loved her softness and imperfections, to me she was perfect. but if she's gone, i want another woman who can not only fit in her shoes, but wear those shoes with style, rock those shoes. make my last girlfriend look like a beta version of what i could be lucky enuph to have. my last girlfriend often said i was hot, but i've never had that much in the looks department, but she also valued what i have in the brain department, which i think is my best feature.

even before i met my last girlfriend, i had been on some of the dating sites, and trying to be honest about my search for someone like me, and always get no responses or anything. i don't even get junk mail anymore, the internet is cold and sad for me. but i think if i were this honest, someone might actually read this. the line that i would end each of those dating site about me areas with, is 'lunatic fringe, i know you're out there'. i know you're out there somewhere, but how the hell do i find you. it should be easier to find someone online, but it's impossible, and i don't understand that. but i figure the girl i'm looking for, she's not going to be android addict who's never heard of spellcheck. she's not going to be a videogame addict. she's not going to have moron homie rapper friends she can't trust. okay, so what sites does that leave where i can find her. i'm not into anything popular, so i don't want her to be into anything popular either. i'd also like to say here, that if this wonderful lady lives somewhere else, i'd be willing to ship you out here to live with me, or ship myself out to where you are... basically relocation is possible, and at this point in my life, i think i could use a change like that. my mind breathes on big ideas, so i usually don't do the 'bill paying' priorities, and all that adult job world crap without a little help. i like to keep life simple and comfortable, and don't like overwhelming myself with too much stress. i've found a well functioning team, with organization skills, can usually handle these things quite well. i don't want the dramaville lifestyle anymore, with poor people constantly arguing about stupid things. i want a calm, stylish, high class lifestyle with people who never raise their voices. because if i'm going to attempt to have more children, i refuse to raise them in such a chaotic and confusing environment. it's not stable, and it's not a healthy way to learn common sense. i like common sense and logic.

i'm an evolutionist, an anarchist, and a dreamer. if you want to know more about me, do your research on those things. i'm a huge fan of wikipedia. and do not be misinformed, do not intentionally misunderstand something because of prior beliefs. alot of small minds are offended by those three concepts. i no longer waste my time on those people. i am no longer concerned with religion or government, i want to focus on bigger things. i want someone who can help me do that, and not keep me from it. someone who motivates me to think, instead of discouraging me. if you have an open mind, and make an actual attempt to learn about these things, you'll see the effort i usually put into a relationship. i want a person who is 'someone to know', because i think i am 'someone to know'. that commercial with 'the most interesting man in the world'... i think he's an alcoholic douchebag who needs a shave. and has bad taste in beer and everything else. i like mike's hard lemonade and margaritas. i've spent many years defining my tastes, i don't need someone trying to redefine them their way. just appreciate who i am, don't try to change me, just admire the changes i make on my own. sometimes it's slow, sometimes it's fascinating, but if i have a stressfree environment to think, i do quite well. i tend to get lazy in relationships after so long, so a gentle reminder once in a while, from a loving, caring, accepting, forgiving perspective is always welcome. that's a mistake i made with my last girlfriend, which i wholeheartedly regret. after my trauma, i tend to be overly wordy, i'm trying to work on that, i used to be rather professional. i plan to exceed that in the future. if you truly attempt to understand what makes me me, it will take alot of the stress out of it. do your research, i already have. i like people who actually do research, and don't procrastinate and put it off because of less important daily adult priority crap. my last girlfriend focused only on me, and it was like breathing oxygen for the first time. i've realized, i just can't be an equal part of the relationship anymore. i have to be the boss, or i just can't be happy. i know it's a dick thing to say, and i personally never wanted to be that asshole, but the glove fits, so i'll wear it with a little humility.

i have many regrets in my life, things i've done wrong, and things that i would love to do right if given the chance. i may never get the chance with anyone from my past, but i'm hoping people who can forgive my past, can let me have a brighter future, by believing that i can be something better than my past. encouraging me to be better, and not just telling me how much worse i am. i've been verbally beaten into a little boy by my family and friends for most of my life, and i want to break free from that cage for good. i want to succeed, so i can show them what they damaged. i'm really hoping this is honest and open enuph, and descriptive enuph, that someone will actually care enuph to read it, in this apathetic television world. i'm in the process of dreaming up a new community for people like me, so i need someone who has passion, compassion, imagination, drive, dreams, and all the ingredients i have. because if we're making a new recipe, we need the right mixture. i don't want another tantrum throwing drama queen. i want someone who is high style, honest, intelligent, and really doesn't care about the drama queen area of society. i'm looking for the john lennon types, the einstein fans out there. i know people like you have to have enuph courage to click the send button on this page, so if you're reading this, please, don't leave me in a dark world of silence and loneliness. come out of the woodwork and tell me you exist in a passionate voice. but still an inside voice.

if you're wondering how i plan to make my way to this high society lifestyle, i do have some ideas i'm working on right now, but it's not easy while i'm still rebuilding my life, but i do plan on making some computer software and other things. how would you like to walk into your house, and say the word 'elegant', and your computer puts on mood music and wallpapers and colours and adjusts the lighting, and all sorts of things that set the mood in your home, right when you ask for it. that's my idea, copyright fuck you, and it will happen soon. if that excites you, please, speak up, click some buttons on my page, let me know you're out there, because i've been looking for you for a long time. lunatic fringe, i know you're out there. and with my dreamer society, someday it will be easier to find eachother. please. don't let our dreams die with john lennon. he died two years after i was born. need i have waited two more years before coming here?

an alternate ending

i so can't wait to say goodbye and mean it. to leave you all alone in this darkness. i know i'm going to have to save my own life this time, i'm just not so sure i want to. stick around and help the people who couldn't save my life, when they won't even thank me till a hundred years after i die anyway. what's the point. my heart's already broken, my life's already over, you can't do much after you lose your soulmate... except try to get her back, or save the world just to make her smile again. the only way it would be worth it, is if she at least smiled in my direction again. at this point, living in this town full of thieves, i wouldn't do it for anything else. no other reason. her smile is the only payment i would want. i never meant to hurt her. i'd do anything to make up for it. she was my angel. what kind of idiot would hurt their angel.

end credits

watching movie credits. if all those people can come together, and work together to make this movie, why can't they join together to support my idea that would help them be free. for the movie, the reason they all come together is the money. they're all getting paid. they may also do it because they like the movie, but then you're just choosing movies, you're still doing the job because of the money. you may even like what you do, i don't care, it's still all for the money. but what if you i had an idea that was better than any movie, but made no money, infact, it destroyed money. would you come together to support that idea, or would you defend the money you make movies for.

birdbrained worldsaver

i slept thru valentine's day. i guess that's a good thing. this world needs a therapist and a mediator at the very least. i've realized, i'm never going to be able to change this world into a more logical home of happiness. a more loving and caring species. if i tried to say that it was to make us all happy, they'd just want to start an argument by saying 'no, it's only to make you happy, we're not happy, we were happy with our lost dvds and our media penicillin'. there are too many assholes here, with too many erroneous fucking opinions that are so fucking important to them, they're willing to die for their opinions, instead of living to save their opinions, but at this point, all of our opinions should be scrapped, and we should take a wider look at our world, and you've all already more than proven that you refuse to listen to me no matter what the fuck it could bring. i see where everything goes wrong, and how to fix it with logic, but what i'm seeing is a delusion, and you're sane because you're the one telling me so. great explanation. that clarifies everything, makes this world transparent like it should be, doesn't it. you let me get half an explanation out, and you interrupt me with some stupid shyt like 'you little crybaby', instead of anything productive. fuck you all. i so want to fucking exit this stupid childish irresponsible selfish spoiled whiny world. all relationships are ruined by a lack of responsible communication. i can see it. why the fuck can't any of you agree. are you not adult enuph to want to save your world, or save your own lives logically. and i'm the one who is suicidal. what a joke. the only way to achieve anything in this world is to 'fight for it' or 'die for it'. we need to shoot holes in our vocabulary and create a new language that doesn't support the 'life or death choices' we have to make on a daily basis because of a monetary system we have so much faith in after all these repetitive cycles and bloody earth. this is the world i want to see only existing in movies. the world where military generals say shyt like 'spilling blood on american soil' and all that crap. keep that fiction to the big screen, and let's make a real fucking world. your answer: no. my retort: i'm outta here.