psychedelic two

further defining the division between psychedelics and psychotics.

psychedelics are anything in the direction of love and truth. psychotics are obviously the opposite.

the way i see it, psychedelics start from the ground, and go upward, toward the sky, or consciousness. psychotics start from the level of concrete, and head downward. so from the concrete up, you have marijuana, which i want to rename 'peace'. then you have shrooms, peyote, and ayahuasca. this is just as far as the drugs go. then, from the concrete down, you have alcohol, television, crack, meth, heroin, money, and bibles. in that order. meaning bibles are the lowest psychotic on the scale. you biblethumpers should be ashamed of yourselves.

but psychedelics are not limited to drugs, neither are psychotics. psychotics are anything addictive.

psychedelics also include love, touch, compassion, sympathy, giving, understanding, listening, art, passion, poetry, etc. psychotics also include weapons, violence, aggression, hostility, rap music, popular products, etc. you get the idea.

i think it's important to make this division in reality, because no one else sees it. but i see so many peaceful people being subjected to violence, when there's a simple solution. the brodawgniggahomies do not belong in hippie territory. you bring violence and psychotics, and we don't want that. you've chosen your side, now get the fuck out. haight street should be hallowed ground, sacred land for hippies and nonviolent people. you violent idiot fucks get the fuck out. take your violence and psychotic drugs with you.

stella asked me the other day, can't you be both. no. not in my definition. i believe it's important to choose a side and stick with it. if you're psychedelic, and you're doing psychotics, you're just hurting yourself, and distancing yourself from the rest of your family and people who love you. being an evolutionist means having responsibility over yourself. get yourself off the fucking drugs and be a responsible human. i managed to stay off psychotic drugs my whole life, with the exception of television. which in my eyes, still means i'm no better than the rest of you. i hold myself responsible for watching television, and i'm ashamed of myself, disgusted with myself, for not saying no to it sooner in my life. i'm just as scarred as the rest of you. don't think i don't know that. don't accuse me of thinking myself above you. in ways, i do, which i think i've earned, and in other ways, i don't. it's my personal perspective, and i have a right to it.

it should also be further defined, that psychedelics, the higher you go on the scale, are in themselves the cures for addictions, especially ayahuasca. it has been said by others, ayahuasca cures addictions, which i think is not only amazing, but inspiring. i wish others thought that way. i wish i could find someone else who sees this the way i do. it's very obvious to me. but if ayahuasca cures addictions, why hasn't it been all over cnn yet. that's the irresponsibility of the psychotic government, plain and simple. they try to control our reality, thus they don't let us form our own opinions, they leak only what information they want, and poof, you have masses of controlled slaves. you push crack, meth, and heroin on the streets, plenty of weapons, and never enough cash, and watch them, like rats trying to climb out of a barrel. i'm sick of that sight, i never wanted to see it.

i hold things against society. like having shown me that sight, when i never wanted to see it. having these drugs on this planet when i got here in the first place. it sickens me. and i hold it against you. it's not about blame. it's about someone being held responsible, liable, for such irresponsible acts. you call yourselves leaders that accept no blame. that's no leader. i'm appalled that someone has to point that out.

but if ayahuasca is the cure for addictions to psychotic drugs, then we have the cure for your horrid nightmare of horseshit lies. thus i will make evolution a religion, and we will offer a twelve step program which frees you from the grips and chains of psychotic drugs. seems so obvious to me. humour, that's another psychedelic. and nudity. skin. flesh. don't forget that.

when we create our own community, it will be important to separate from society for a while, but after we have achieved some level of harmony and productivity in our community, we will offer the ability to reintegrate with society, using your talents and technology to do so. we will be allowed to operate through society by our own law, as they recognize that we can be responsible for ourselves. they will not be allowed to use any hostility toward us, no aggression, no violence, which will allow us to walk around naked, not have to pay for any products, simply walk into a store naked, ask for what you need, and walk away. the nudity, or some form of a visible eye on you, will be your identifier, and the only way you can and should be identified. no more id cards, no credit cards, no wallets, no photo id, no fuckin' fingerprints and running your name and all that shit. you do not need to identify us, we identify only as evolutionists, you can tell us apart by the nudity or the eyes, and we are officially collecting what's ours out of the national debt that no one has a clue about.

all that money that they claim is in the national debt. i can tell you the truth about it. consider it step one of your twelve step recovery program. to know the truth about what you're owed.

even though there's still not one fucking ballsy human brave enough to talk to be about this idea, i will keep writing it here, because i believe it is important, and will someday come to fruition for all the right reasons. i know i'm not alone.

visibility prayer

this is the best i can explain... me. my life. this concrete reality we exist in constantly tells me, every day of my life, that i don't belong here. in so many painful ways. there's no sidewalk i can walk down where i'm not in someone's way. there's no corner of a room where i can stand where i'm not in someone's way. there's no moment i can talk when i'm not taking up someone else's time. and it's always some selfimportant douchebag who thinks he owns everything, and has the authority to push me around, and has the knowledge and life experience to have to teach me a lesson. i'm so sick of these pricks. but i constantly feel invisible. no one sees me, no one hears me, no one finds me valuable. those who do, say i'm too negative, too overwhelming, and they all disappear. i've been smelling scents, even with other senses, that have been giving me serious flashbacks to my childhood. i actually don't know what else i want to write today. i'm too sleepy, too hungy, and headed downtown for the free food. and i need to get out of this twisted little town as soon as possible. the weather here is evil. i'd like to get up to northern california. my brain isn't working.

four twenty

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

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

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

relax.

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

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

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

yeah, i'll pack yer fuckin' bowl!

oh, you can pack my own all night long!

and then you get a chain of laffter going.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

goddamnit.

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

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

my wife loved that.

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

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

throughout human history, as our species has faced the frightening, terrorizing fact, that we do not know who we are, or where we are going in this ocean of chaos, it has been the authorities; the political, the religious, the educational authorities, who attempted to comfort us, by giving us order, rules, regulations, informing; forming in our minds, their view of reality. to think for yourself, you must question authority, and learn how to put yourself in a state of vulnerable openmindedness; chaotic, confused vulnerability, to inform yourself...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

like the cover of relentless. wind blowing.

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

missing dinner

well, i decided, fuck dinner and fuck the psychic, i'd rather be lazy for the rest of today and stay here and write. i feel like i need to. i felt like i needed to yesterday. so, back to the story of my children and the destruction of my life that no one thinks really happened. and you call me a skeptic. mutherfucker, i'm a scientist. i put skeptics to shame.

my son was born december twentyninth, two thousand seven, at seven:fiftyfour pm.

because the mother of my children was a total fucking goat roach slob, cps got involved. oh, she'll blame it on me till her vocal cords cough up a death rattle of snake venom and crackhead cum, but that's just part of her psychological diagnosis, you see. i'll give you an example of what a slob she was.

her and my mother were exactly the same. don't ask freud about that one, ask christopher titus instead. they would both sit and watch the reality television show 'hoarders', and they'd both say 'at least i'm not that bad'. while my daughter's crawling over these adult sized piles of trash around me. go ahead, you flaming fucktwat, blame that on me again. i'm listening real well.

so, cps got involved, and the case started january twentythird, two thousand eight. my son was less than a month old at that point. and this is how the case got started. they took her and i into a locked room, and paid no attention to me, ignored me, silenced me, excluded me from the dealings in the room. if you don't believe that, don't worry, it won't matter long, you're on my shitlist.

oh, and by the way, for those questioning who's at the top of my shitlist, who's going to be the first one i kill on this godfucking goatpuking planet, i'd love to introduce you to your answer. here's item number one on my shitlist:

Daddy's Shitlist:

1. god.

does that enlighten you properly?

now, with that out of the way. they locked us in a room, but only talked to her, the weak one. i kept trying to strengthen her during the... what i call, the vulture seduction. you've all seen those interrogation scenes in the movies? i might make it through those, whereas she would flop like a fish on an engine block. she was sitting there in tears, and they kept pushing her for an answer, to make a decision, whether she wanted them to 'just take leary for now', or 'take both the kids'. they were trying to see how strong of a parent she was. when she buckled, and said the word 'coerced', there went my kids. try blaming that on me, go ahead, my ears are wider than the gap in your resumé.

that was january twenty third, two thousand eight. i remember the day, which pretty much proves all your little theories wrong right there, if you can pay attention enough. almost out of time again. i hate limitations and restrictions and concrete. you take my kids, i'll take your money. just guess how serious i am.

fuck it, i'll leave this here, and get back to it later, if i stay. i hate breaking my thoughts like this, but your wonderful libraries dictate it, in hopes of being 'fair' to everyone. but you all know in your hearts, it's unfair. remember, i do have a flabby ass now. and you sure got a pretty mouth.

my negative past

okay, what's next to talk about. the fact that i no longer want to even talk about my negative past because people who can't handle it, but ask the stupid questions anyway, like 'where are you from', and all that small talk horse shit, i'm just going to tell them to read my fucking blog, and could we talk about something more future worthy, like how can you help me build a new community, and shit like that. let's get to something productive. but because people can't handle me talking about that, and start thinking of me as a 'downer', i'm sick of those shiny happy people that think life has to be good at all times, and that i'm not allowed to have anything bad to talk about. when in my eyes, they're the downers with the horrible tastes in music. a collection of singles downloaded from itunes, from the recommended and suggested page, of shit that everyone else is listening to, and shit they play on the radio. i fucking loathe you people. get some fucking taste and stop bitching about me. i'm not the reason for the frown on your fugly fucking faces.

so here, i will try to get through as much of this horseshit of the last three years of my life as quickly as possible, since no one wants to hear it, but it has to be fucking said and repeated constantly for people to feel like they know me. you know what would be easier than that, by the way, is if i only said this shit once, and you all fucking heard it. and you call me lazy. you've got wikipedia at your fingertips and you don't use it.

so, let's see. end of two thousand three, i met the mother of my children. horrid skanked wretch. fucking goat roach. i'm glad she's permanently out of the fucking picture. only took me ten fucking years. she moved her slobbery into my apartment, and from there, i was never able to hold my own life in my own hands again until recently. my daughter, rayne, was born march second, two thousand six, at seven:twenty am. she was born in our bathtub at home, the way she wanted it. you can argue that one all you want, i give a hootin' hears a whore fuck. i just love saying my daughter's birthday. doctor seuss' birthday, march second, two thousand six, seven:twenty am, she weighed seven pounds, eleven ounces, just like her brother. when she first opened her eyes, i saw the fuckin' future in there. but we'll get to that, and your disagreement with it later.

i'm sick of people thinking they can tell their version of my story better than i can.

my son was born december twenty ninth, two thousand seven, at seven:fiftyfour pm. he was also seven pounds, eleven ounces. they had sevens going for them. my daughter's full name (minus my last name), was rayne miakota. the rayne is one of my favourite things on this planet, and miakota is native american for wolf moon, or dancer of the moon. i can't remember which anymore. so in her name, i gave myself a comforting memory, of my connection to the earth, the storms, the thoughts and visions i get from stormy and colourful skies, and the moon from my dreams. my son's name is leary samana draven. he was named after timothy leary, his initials are lsd, and his middle name is a word in meditation breathing for the moment between inhaling and exhaling when your body and everything pauses for that moment of life.

by the way, this is for all the nonsmokers out there. i'm going to say this on stage when i can, but i feel like this is another obvious bill hicks statement that needs to be made, because no one fucking knows it. but i like to educate people. all you people that don't smoke, and eat veggies, and drive priuses, like you're doing something good, because you're worried about your futures, and your health... you people creep me the fuck out, get a grip. does this really need to be pointed out, and said in bill hicks' words? here it is, ready? drum roll...

i'd rather enjoy the moment. now.

that's why i named my son leary samana draven. i hijacked timothy leary's soul back into this world illegally. let's see what your leaders can do about that one. i like to enjoy the moment, instead of saving up for a future that never fucking comes, but i constantly have to worry about, and never get to enjoy, fuck you. my son's middle name is samana. thus i smoke.

when i get my kids back, they will have their intended names. rayne miakota draven, and leary samana draven. then, the next boy i have, i want to name him...

ready?

Judge Kickass von Draven

that's right, you uncreative fucks, i'm birthing superheroes into this world next.

did you need a rockstar to think of this shit? shows how unimaginative you fuckers are. john lennon certainly did die, cause you fuckers let him. all he is now is a tshirt in a fuckin' store window. some fake wannabe hippie shop on haight street, where the wolves buy their sheep clothing. you sick fucks.

so anyway, pay attention to the dates here. oh, shit, out of time, and dinner time, gotta go. i'll continue this shit tomorrow.

Nils

Small note to self for now. Lots of shit to ponder. Knights. Self health. Stop talking at all about the past/negativity. Was that it for now. How to change perspective enough.

traveling story three

okay, just to finish up the nico night, then i have to go to dinner. nico and i were sitting in this little hidden bush area, charging my phone, and this asshole comes up, and starts saying shit like 'you're trespassing, you're stealing, i'm having this plug taken out, if i see you back here, i'll shoot you', and on and on and on. wow, what an anal little fuck.

okay, so obviously i have to point this out, because he didn't think of it.

but dude, i'm going to say this as nicely as i can. this is what i should have said to him, verbatim, that night when nico and i were tripping on acid, and charging my phone. keep in mind, nico is only eighteen years old.

excuse me. we are not trespassing. have you noticed where you live. this is haight street, mutherfucker. this is hallowed ground for hippies. you're a yuppie, you're the enemy, you scumfuck, you're trespassing. and if you ever do anything to harm me or this brilliant kid, i can get fifty hippies lined up at your door waiting to teach you a lesson in 'gee, i'm wrong, boss, how can i make up for my stupid mistake'.

you're all yuppies. you're all the enemy. just because you can afford to own something, doesn't make everything yours. haight street his hippie territory, and timothy fuckin' leary gave it to us back in the sixties.

go fuck yourself, eggtwat.

i can't believe i had to point that out. is that how stupid this cold hearted credit card world has gotten. i think that's fucking sad, and it's all your fault. anyone who carries a wallet, i want you to pay for this shit. from now on, every dollar i see, i'm going to burn it. it's time to take it down.

let morons like this be the inspiration for it.

traveling story continued

okay, where did i leave off. bellingham. i spent one week in bellingham washington, and that's all i could take of that backward little town. so i spent from august seventh till like the second week of january in seattle, and took a bus up north to bellingham, and... let's see... i got to bellingham on a saturday evening, and left on a saturday evening. i left on the bolt bus, for forty bucks down to portland oregon. first time there in fifteen years, you'd think i could have had a nicer time. i got into portland late saturday night, january twenty fourth. i walked around downtown for a bit, looking for a spot to sit, smoke, sleep. i sat infront of some fancy store window, scraping a bowl of resin. these hot ladies passed by me, and one of them looked at me, and said 'would you like to smoke', the others giggled, i said 'sure', but they wondered off around the corner and never came back.

i wish i could remember so many of the stories between here and there. i've forgotten too much, haven't been able to post it all online, keep losing shit... if you think it's fun being homeless, you're sofa king we todd did you should go back to first grade, and do not pass go. you get a dunce cap for the rest of this party. corner of the class, naked on a stool, trying to think of jokes and puns about your sit you ation.

anyway, hopefully along these lines, i'll get to fill in parts of the story as i remember them, but all in all, this is pretty fucking retarded having to piece together parts of my life to tell single serving friends who weren't there for these parts of the fucking trip anyway, but whenever people ask me where i'm from, i'm fucking sick of answering that question, as it leads to me telling about my negative past, when that's the reason i'm traveling is to get to a better fuckin' future. so people, cut the small talk, stop asking me where i'm from, like it fucking matters. i'm from the fuckin' future, you'll hear the story tomorrow, smoke a fuckin' bowl and go to bed.

so, yeah, oregon. i got there saturday night, january twenty fourth, passed out downtown. woke up in a different spot down town, on a foggy, beautiful sunday morning, quiet, peaceful, oregon's special brand of fog, on my wife's twenty third birthday. happy birthday, baby. while i was in oregon, i was harassed three times for smoking pot, jailed twice of those, and they're about to legalize it in july. what a bunch of goat tards. they apparently just needed one more little scapegoat posterchild for their war on drugs hypocrisy. fascist scum. you normal fuckers have no clue what that did to my pride. before that, i was proudly telling people, i'm thirty six, father of two, never been arrested, never been to jail, never done a stupid psychotic drug... thanks, portland, for fucking that up. one of the times the douchebag pig was arresting me... first of all, they never even charged me with smoking pot. but the last time, when the scumfuck was arresting me, he said he was arresting me for offensive littering. wow, okay, first of all, offensive? wow, that's a little harsh. and secondly, since when did we arrest people for littering. why be so violent and aggressive for littering. because you're a neanderthal, that's why. doesn't take a moron with half a booger on his nose to figure that out.

and third... i hadn't thrown anything on the ground. i think he was literally just calling me trash. asshole. and when he had me up against his car, raping me of all my possessions and sentimental trash, his cop buddy walks up, and he says to his cop buddy, 'almost friday'. fucking douchebag, it was a monday fuckin' morning. do you have to be that much of an asshole, do you have to make it so obvious that you know your time is up. i wish your dick was big enough that i could shove it up your ass, and have you actually fuck yourself. i guess your head will have to do...

am i the only one who's this fucking sick of cops, and authority, and law enforcement, and concrete credit hearts and advertisements flashing in our faces... i really wonder how pleased you all are with these shit plastic fucking products. mcdonald's has tasted the same for eighty fucking years now, when is it going to get old for the rest of you fucks. and when will you stop looking at me like i'm crazy for not wanting to pay twenty bucks a day for free heart attack with every burger and free cancer with every fuckin' fry. you can shove my truth down your arteries and fuckin' choke on it.

while i was in seattle, i got myself a laptop. i didn't get paid on black friday, so i had to wait for cyber monday. i walked into a best buy on cyber monday with four hundred bucks to spend on something fast. i got the slowest thing in the fucking store, that shouldn't have even been made let alone sold. it was so below its own minimal requirements, that it died because of that. lasted me a month. then, just before i was about to take it back and get my money back, which meant losing all my files, cause there's no fuckin' security of any sort for poor people, and you rich fucks think you're doing some good. i could prove it to you with a piece of cardboard and a sharpie. before i was able to take it back, it got stolen along with my windows phone phablet thing, my sd card, headphones...

if one person on this godfucking planet wants to say right now that life is fair, and that everything bad that happens in my life is my fault, if one of you morons wants to take the chance of telling me that again right now, go the fuck ahead, i need more people on my shitlist. god's still at the top, though. position number one. i like to call it, love position number one. you figure out the pun and emphasis. it's not my job to help you get the joke anymore. if you don't get it, i get to enjoy watching you be left out. because for thirty six years now, i've been left the fuck out. life's fuckin' fair, for who.

so after portland, one of the douchebag cops that arrested me the first morning, some old fart hippie wannabe, told me, 'you need to go down to san francisco, that's where all the hippies are, haight ashbury, that's where you need to be', and sold it up like a shiny fuckin' product. i got down here, there's no fuckin' love down here. it's hard enough to get free weed every day, let alone cigarettes or food or anything fucking worthwhile, all i get is people issues and unhealthy hatred and anger. yeah, thanks, doc. so this is my taste of california. some of the dumbest yuppie scum i've seen walking this earth. haight street is lined with yuppies? have we gotten this shit on youtube yet? get alex jones down here, he needs to see this shit. i've even seen fake hippies. do i need to point this out? just because you can afford to buy the cool colourful hippie clothing in the stores doesn't make you a fucking hippie, it makes you a wolf in sheep's clothing, and we can smell you fuckers and your fake plastic perfume scents from miles away. do you think we're fuckin' stupid?

and that leads me to something else that needs to be said. the other night, this kid nico and i are tripping acid, or trying at least, and looking for a spot to charge my phone, which there are none in san francisco, by the way. good little traveling tip there. someone should put that on a street sign somewhere. but i don't know how this genius little kid, eighteen years old, found this electric plug that night, but we sat there and charged my phone for a bit, and were talking about funny stuff, and he goes off making a sign that i never got to see... suddenly this guy who apparently lives in one of those houses gets home and starts yelling at us for being there. this is a great story, cause it needs something obvious said about it. even some douchebag in the castro was this fucking psychotic, and i feel like both you fuckers need to be called out on this shit. it's gone on long enough, and it's time you whiny little fucks stop. so pay attention.

even number one, only a morning or two before mine and nico's acid trip night. i slept on someone's doorstep in the castro, because i was feeling safer there than on haight with all the new shady hippies flooding in, and a couple gangster homie thugfucks that seem to think that neighborhood has become theirs for whatever reason. when i woke up that morning, i sat up and smoked a bowl, like i prefer to do, instead of just bouncing off the concrete like a delayed equal and opposite reaction and walking on looking for more concrete and less people before i even get to enjoy my morning and shaving the stress off my mood that you fucks cause in the first place, but we'll get to that when i get a therapist again. apparently you can't find those anymore either. you fucks need to get your priorities right.

but anyway, i woke up, and this gay douchebag yells out his window at one point, 'get the fuck out of here, you're trespassing', and has to get all fucking gaydicktard hostile at me for being, what i shouldn't have to remind him, is a fucking traveler. as i'm picking up my stuff and walking away, i'm yelling back at him, trying to tell him to relax, he seriously needs to grow up, he doesn't need to be so hostile and violent. but i say, 'dude, get laid, smoke a bowl, relax', to which he responds 'i do that all the time'... and i felt like saying, 'the fuck you do! i can prove you don't with an instant replay button, you unfucked jerkoff!'. after which the pigs had to fuck with me for riding a bus for free, when there's a big fuckin' sign saying that disabled people can ride for free, but oh, it has that super small fine print that people who need glasses can't read, but that's completely fair, and it says you have to show proof, well fuck, clarence, ya got me, i'm just a stupid traveler without proof of anything, because i travel light, and don't like to carry your stupid trash around on me, and papers of dead trees weighing me down, hell, i don't even like having to identify myself every time you point your fuckin' stubby finger at me, you fat fuck.

so that wannabe faggot had to be called out. you live in the castro, you idiot. do you seriously need to be reminded to grow the fuck up, and realize you're living in san fucking fran fucking cisco, next to haight ashbury... hippies, travelers, potheads, you're going to have them all sleeping all around you, because some guy named timothy leary was born when your grandfather killed himself from the great depression, you chucklenuck fuck. i gotta get to the rest of this later, the computer's telling me to shut up.

traveling story so far

okay, so i'm just going to start talking to my blog, cause humanity sucks goat roaches. here's my traveling story so far. the most i can remember. and it stems back from before it actually started.

june of twenty twelve, i met my wife. long story very short, we were only together for a year and a half, and for that part of the story, look for that blog post. she left me december thirtieth, twenty thirteen, day after my son's birthday, day before new years, leaving me alone for new years. and her birthday was january twenty fifth, she was turning twenty two, and it was to be very special.

because she left, i lost the apartment we had just gotten to overcome homelessness. her and i became homeless in july of twenty thirteen, because of the mother of my children, that scagly goat wrench. vile horrid hell hound from which i hijacked a couple vital souls. long story. but july twenty thirteen is when everything fell apart, and i lost everything, and kept on losing everything, until i lost my wife. when i had gotten the apartment, i called my mother asking for my cat back as well, and couldn't get a coherent answer from her as to what happened to him. he's either dead or otherwise gone, though, which breaks my heart, but i haven't even gotten to grieve over him yet.

in the months after losing my wife and the apartment, my fragile sanity woke up on wet pillows every morning, sleeping in my mother's hospital bed in our vail house, while my drug addict knuckle dragging neanderthal crackroach piece of shit scumfuck goatpuke uncle ruled the house and slept in my old room. fatfartsmellystinkin' fuckin' loser reject. i'm sure he's the one who put my mother in the coma just to get her out of the house. but that's another blog post.

there was a gap of tears and weirdness between january and june of twenty fourteen. i felt like the shell that had been me had cracked and fallen away, leaving a reborn little boy, but with the same eighty year old turd fuckin' body, just dragged through more streets.

but, one weird morning in april, the mother of my children called me. basically, through a long and confused and chaotic series of events, which was her nature, she somehow got herself up to spokane washington. she was sent up there too look after some douchebag that needed no help destroying his own life. she calls me, and asks me if i want to come up there. without hesitating, i said yes, because hell had just destroyed my life yet again, and i had been waiting, praying, begging, and dying to get the fuck out of that turdfest for so long.

the last time i got out of there, ties in with my acid story, which is another blog post, but my first trip was when i was eighteen, it was a bad trip in hell, because hell is a nonpsychedelic city, hello, welcome to shitty wok. my second real trip, was up in oregon. i left hell when i was twenty years old, june of ninety nine, i was working at a place called convergys, selling at&t to old fucks who didn't know what their phone was, and got the chance to move up to oregon. when i was up there, i had two good trips. first one was perfect, second was liquid lsd, cracked the sky wide open for me, i've been on ever since. read my poem morons.

so i waited, and prepared, and looked forward to the day i would leave that ghost town of death. i packed my shit up, broke my uncle's phone, cut the stereo and television cords, reported him to the police, and drove off just before the sun rose. the sun was rising over the airport just as i was taking off in the plane. it was beautiful. a sight i never thought i'd get to see. that sunrise was the last day of may, twenty fourteen.

june first was my first full day in spokane. i was staying in a trailer with the fat scagged goat gash that birthed my children, the dinglewhopper that she was supposedly helping, and two douchebag fucking wannabe lesbian teases. total skank wanks not worth the time it takes to puke and put the condom on. tazra beck couldn't sell a beer if her bush were a bottle opener. i fuckin' tweeted that.

anyway, that horrid story only took nine days to fall apart, believe it or not. that's the magical wondrous work of that fat scaggy goat whore. she's a hurricane of destruction, and looks even uglier. on the morning of june tenth, i woke up in a car, to have her be the one to come out and tell me that i was no longer wanted there, and she of course had to blame it all on me, of why the whole house took nine days to fall apart. uh... unless you're retarded... she was living in a trailer. it doesn't take three little pigs to blow that to shit, it takes only her. i challenge you to prove me wrong. hell, at this point, i challenge you to track her scugly ass down. i used that change to spin her off in a bad direction and finally get her permanently the fuck out of my life. i had to.

and for all you idiots who think everyone needs to fit into the standard christian societal mold of what a family should be, i'm going to tell you right the fuck right now, there's an evil organization in this delusional world called cps. before you go telling me any shit about how i lost my children, like you know my story better than i do, and think i need to be taught a lesson from your dumb ass, you need to shut the fuck up and do your research, because i know that closed minds always have open mouths, and i'd just like to prove myself right every chance i get, because i fucking deserve it after listening to your fucktarded ass so many years, you're fucked in the head, and i have proof, so you need to shut the fuck up and do your research, i would start by going to fightcps.org and memorizing the mutherfucking site like i did. i went warhead against a government organization for two years of my life, do you think i'm stupid? i think i have a better understanding of this delusion than you do. in fact, i'm betting on it. and i'm not dumb enough to gamble.

anyway, morning of june tenth, i found myself homeless in spokane. i got myself to a hospital, got signed up with health care, got myself to a (whatever type of fucking mental place they call them at this point, you fill in the fuckin' blanks, that's no longer my fuckin' job), got signed up there, got myself to a shelter, showered with naked men, woke up the next morning, talked to a couple doctors, got free food, showered with naked men, woke up the next morning, got myself a girlfriend, although she was a nineteen year old version of the horrid kanker cunt we'll just refer to as putrid gash at this point, because by now you know who the fuck i'm talking about. i don't know why that's the only type of girl who's attracted to me, besides my fucking soulmate. keep the date in mind at least, though. i got a girlfriend on june twelve. one of my days. you won't get that till a later blog post, so for now just think of it as my own floyd song. one of my own wall times. for what sense that makes to you. you can tell how much i give a shit at this point. if i had two turds in my pocket, i wouldn't give you one. they're worth more than you being used as ammo toward a white house of a particular shape. hell, i'd use you as ammo if i could drag you that far. but anyway.

so i dated that wretch for about a month, till i figured out i wanted to be alone. after i was away from her, i was standing one evening, watching a sunset over a river, with nothing but me and the trees and the earth and the sunset, and the river, and myself, and my music, and i had this big revelation that took about an hour or two to wash over me, and i felt immense enjoyment for the first time in years. i had to realize in that amount of time, that i was alone, for the first time in my life, i was truly alone, my feet stood alone on the earth, i had no more hands hanging onto my feet any longer, i was free to walk this earth as i pleased, for the first time ever, free to just walk in any direction without something pulling me back, calling me back, dragging me back, begging me back, i was fucking free. free. god, i couldn't say that with a deep enough breath in my lungs. free.

i stood there, looking at the river and the sunset, and i thought to myself, if i'm going to rebuild my life, i'm going to do it right, i'm going to the big city. i bought myself a greyhound ticket, and got myself to seattle. pay attention, i've already succeeded at way more than my family ever thought i would, and it's only august twenty fourteen. fuck them. fuck them with a very hot branding iron pulled straight out of satan's ass in hell. fuck them with it. fuck them with it till they'd make a good burger patty. i want to see the word 'angus' burnt into the meat.

so i got to seattle on august seventh. it was a wonderful time. for the seattle part of the story, read that blog post. i ain't your fuckin' google docs slave.

anyway, i got sick of seattle, after spending the winter freezing my ass off up there, so i asked someone where i should go next. a couple cheap skanks working in a jimmy john's because they couldn't get a titty job at shiny schlong's, told me to go up to bellingham, because it was a good place to be homeless and panhandle. bullshit. for their punishment, they get to go up there and try to panhandle their way out. dickropes. ooh, missing lunch, gotta go.

april in haight

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

lately...

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golden hair

the list of things i'd give my heart for
eyes desperately, tearfully forward
heart prisoner to the past
the questioner won't be the last

you hear everything too fast, child
passion affects that raw heart
lessons learned from the start
emotions like residue will tear you apart

build walls of imaginary future around you
the safety they sell you is false and fake
cold credit cards will haunt your every step
they never told you why jesus wept

i could answer everything for you
but when an answer lacks in myself
i would offer anything i had for you
would your answer for me sit on a shelf
the heart you could never touch
the pain you could never heal

growing cold in all your concrete ways
limited on perception and slave to days
if only that mind could feel the sun's rays
secrets shine within that golden face
justice is a game the pawn plays

give everything to the ground beneath you
let go and walk away
sun shines to urge you further
steps along a path leading to grey

memories like lizard tales
accusations from your delusions
swords in a chest of treasures
      jewels are worthless unless they speak

february in portland

yesterday morning. i was supposed to wake up in the shelter, eat breakfast, get signed up with a doctor, or at least the health insurance. well... fuck it, here's what happened. i woke up in the shelter, ate breakfast, sat and waited too long to get signed up with health care, then they told me to go down to... somewhere, and apply for the food stamps, which took forever. then i walked up to sisters of the road cafe, and signed up to eat at two pm. then i walked to transition projects to get the tb test thing done, but they only do it at one thirty. so i walked to the library, thinking i could check my email, and get back down there in time to eat. the lady at transition projects said i could come by at three pm and talk to her. but i left the library late, didn't make it to sisters of the road till just before three, and they were closing up. the lady was nice enough to give me food anyway, i quickly ate, and walked out. i got all the way back up to the library before i realized i was supposed to go back to transition projects right after that. didn't get there till five pm, the lady was gone, and no more tb testing things, so i'm out of the shelter, too. people really do not realize how much they can constantly fuck up your life, and all they can ever seem to say, is sorry for the inconvenience.

so i just gave up on trying to get anything else accomplished yesterday, headed down to the mission for dinner, ate a few times, and headed out to get my back of blankets. i was beat. sore. exhausted. as soon as i got laid down and comfortable, fuckin' security has to come move me along. i asked the guy, why do you always have to wait till i'm laid down and done before you make me get up, i've been sitting here smoking for half an hour. no answer. i asked him where was another good spot to lay, telling him i like to stay under something, and away from people. they can't help you. i walked around for a bit, and saw a bunch of people under the burnside bridge by the park. got a little food, and then figured out there was a medical truck. it was actually a dental truck. well, fuckin' holy fuckin' lugies, i finally get to get this miserable fucking tooth pain out of my daily shitfest of agony. joy.

so, almost two hours after my original slab time, i get a bone yanked out of my head, my a rather cool doctor/dentist dude, found a little spot under the steele bridge, and passed out. only to be woken up at sunrise by more security guards running me off. hebus fucking terrorist christ, do you fuckers truly not realize how much you can fuck up a person's fucking day? how many times do i have to ask that? a monetary society should not be my only option, i do not want to participate in your fucking stupid little dollar orgy, your childish little concrete job world, it does not interest me. but you force me. and if i can't stand on the ladder, you make sure that ground hurts like hell. and you're so sorry for the inconvenience, i'm sure.

so, this morning, i have to call my first bank, and find out where their shared banking locations are. can't use the library phones. sorry for the inconvenience. get my money out. then, i'm really tempted to just spend all the cash on pot, and sell it, rather than try to rectify my stupid bank situation all by my fucking lonesome ugly self. get my phone replaced and have music to listen to? or make sure i stay sane on pot this month? or attempt to do both, and get fucked worse than last month. because 'i can't take that charge off your card, sorry for the inconvenience. i'm fucking you really painfully in the ass, against your protests, i think they call this rape, but my company policy dictates that i can't stop until i've satisfied myself, so shut up and fucking like it, sorry for the inconvenience. sorry i didn't use lube either, and now it burns like a volcano, but here's a cheap bar of soap and a screw. i can't be bothered to tell you what you can use them for. i can't afford to give you a hint. it's against policy for me to give you any more information. i have to ask you to leave now. i'm going to call the cops on you if you don't cooperate. i know i'm the one being childish and uncooperative, and my ears haven't evolved enough to listen to you, or formulate a beat in my heart, but this concrete reality is the hell i designed for you, hope you enjoy it, keep your receipt, although we'll never tell you that it will do you no good, it's just a worthless piece of paper, and that's what we think of you, our little toy that's dancing around trying to catch these reigning raining dollar bills that are just worthless pieces of paper just like us, the creators of all that is the bane of your existence, and we hope you love our service, please feel free to leave comments and suggestions, but no complaints on that wall of turds over there, smoking section is in the prison cell to the right, no one can hear you, you're a rat in a cage who thinks he's a human having a dream he can't wake from, dollars can murder your heart, everything we've told you is a lie, and you're stuck in a web of copyright prison bars, we'll let you starve just enough to hate us, but if you bite the hand that feeds you, we bite back with interest, and i fucking hate the core of everything you are, you are nuthing to me, and i hope you get to cling onto your credit cards while you're burning in satan's fucking turd pool.

have a wonderful day.
sorry for the inconvenience.

frowns to the left of me, smokers to the right, here i am, stuck in a riddle with you.
the only solution i can see from my hell, is for your expensive heaven to fall.

how much would it cost me to cram this up your ass.

common sense defined

here is a list of psychedelics.

marijuana (mandatory).
psilocybin mushrooms.
peyote.
dimethyltriptamine (dmt).
ayahuasca (dmtea mix).

on this list, ayahuasca is like a psyche-delicacy.

...
now, here is a list of psychotics.

alcohol. cocaine. crack. meth. heroin. television. bibles.

any questions?

...
now here's what i plan to do with that.

give the homeless people jobs working for eachother. go out and get whatever food and money you can, and bring it all back here, and we make sure everyone gets a cigarette. that can't be bad.

once you have enough homeless people working for you, and enough donations coming in for everyone, they have more ability to go out and do more.

if you keep them away from psychotics, and inspire them in a more psychedelic direction, you get a better attitude of cooperation out of them. if you convert them to logic, and give them a clue, they will understand how to take it in an upward direction from there, and you basically just got yourself a loyal friend who will spread your word further for you. what's wrong with that?

if you get some of them who have any building capabilities to build a shelter... that's another obstacle down right there. figure out what their skills are and use them. if this guy's only skill is panhandling, fucking use it, that's his job, you go out and panhandle for me, i make sure you eat every day.

what could possibly be bad about that idea. i'm sure some idiot will think of something negative and offensive to logic. you don't want me cursing your god, then don't offend my logic. when your god gets pissed off, people die. when my god gets pissed off, you die. that's a bumpersticker, you can fuckin' copyright it. it's also a scratch and sniff, so you can suck on it and actually taste something. bonus!

and here's the kicker. get your brain ready for this. if you can't open your third eye wide enough for this one, you might get something similar to brain freeze. so please, get ready, and step away from the slushie.

once you have converted enough homeless people, and started a shelter for them that's self sufficient, you're one step away from creating a church, then a religion, then taking over. ooh, i shouldn't give away that last piece out loud, should it. people might disagree. hmm...

looks like those people need to be the first ones i convert.

that's right, bible thumper. i'm coming for you.

i'm gonna turn you into a stable thumber.

take that any way you want it.

take it to a pawn shop, see if it's worth anything.

morning coffee break

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

another wasted day

and it's all my fault.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

capitalism does not translate to equality.

my heart is broken. thank you all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

bugs crawling on my skin.

exclusion, degradation, and too much authority

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

...
okay. where do i start.

song playing: tiny dancer, by elton john.

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

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

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

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

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

like a tumour in my eye.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

song playing now: gauze, by deftones.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

song playing now: lunatic fringe, by red rider.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

by the way, can you blow bubbles?

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

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

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

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

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

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

he said...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that being said...

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

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

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

- doctor timothy francis leary, ph.d.

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