you're broken

great, now i can't access my wordpress blog either. what the fuck is going on, is anyone else noticing that our electronics are working less and less, and being less and less reliable and dependable, and less and less functional, making us less and less functional. am i the only fucking one! i refuse to believe that! i can't get onto my fucking wordpress blog, i'm losing every writing outlet i have. there's no one i can fucking call. god, i fucking hate you.

september nineteen

here's my morning. again. walk to the mcdonald's to take a shit. now, i have to wait about five minutes. i finally go in, and the whole world of idiots and selfish, impatient, greedy fucks walk in and start bitching. did i go in and bitch at the last guy? no. i finally get in there, i get one minute. some guy walks in, asks me, i say 'i just got in here, but i'll try to hurry'. he walks out, some other idiot walks in asking, i say again, 'i just got in here, but i'll try to hurry'. he mumbles something untranslatable about waiting, i said i had to wait, too. he didn't care. some other guy walks in, apparently works here, asks the guy waiting how long he's been waiting, he says about seven minutes. i said bullshit, he's only been in here for less than a minute, there's no need to lie. the employee stands there, and says 'no, everyone has a right to take a shit'. proper lingo for a mcdonald's employee. what, was he quoting earnest hemmingway? douchebag. after saying that, the employee stands there, and gives me... literally, i shit you not, pardon the pun... one more minute... i could have timed it on my phone, one more minute, and then bangs on the door, starts pounding frantically on the door, saying, 'okay, your time's up, get the fuck out'. uh... i could have him fired for that, i'm sure. i've never known another human who can drop a turd in one minute flat, and walk out the door, what the fuck is wrong with you robotic heartless clones. is your hardware designed to drop turds that quick? i'm a human. i should rephrase that. unlike you, i'm a human. i walk out of the stall, and there are three guys all crammed in that one tiny bathroom, waiting, and socializing. top marks, gentlemen. bravo. hope someone does that to you... or is that why you treat me that way. is that courtesy these days. is that your standard, your norm, you all treat everyone like shit, and expect to go on walking. because you're all just minute turds, shitting out little beibers, cloning eachother every minute. eat mcdonald's, shit where you eat, and get on with your credit card. no idea why i fucking hate you.

then, i sit here on my laptop, get on the wifi, and i go to meetup.com, since i can't do facebook anymore. and i type in words to search for groups of people like me, so i type in consciousness, all it brings up is stupid looking meditation groups. i type in evolution, all it brings up is atheists and skeptics. i type in intellect, all it brings up is yoga. i type in mensa, it only brings up three groups, one of them is 'i'm a cool nerd'. obviously it's not in style to have a massive brain these days. you'll never figure out who i am and why i hate you. but i panhandled thirty six bucks last night. then i bought a hot chocolate and a couple bowls of cereal, which cost me eight bucks, leaving me with twenty four, so i'll try to use that today, and my two bus tokens, to get down to santa monica, which i really didn't want to do, from the looks of google maps, there's only the one library, it's not close enough to venice beach and the hippies to get weed, and the venice library close to the hippies, once you walk past that library back toward los angeles, there's nothing for miles, no stores, no restrooms, nothing. so if i go to santa monica, i'm basically fucked. i need to find the free meals in that area, the shelters, the areas to hang around, where the hippies are... but i only need weed from that, what i'm really trying to do right now, is find metal people with metal balls to start a metal band. i have yet to build up the motivation to do the open mic, and can't find anyone to help me with that, so fuck you all. you don't want me to get on stage, i won't get on stage, and maybe someday you'll never get to see all the shit in my head, and then hopefully, i'll die... which i'm hoping for soon, cause i can't take this shit any longer, i refuse to live on a planet overrun with this much meth and idiots, hell, i refuse to have anything to do with a world that ever had anything to do with drugs like that. when are you going to figure that out, you human fucking turds. turds with legs, born in under a minute, cloned freshly each morning by your favourite local cancer burger chain, then they'll charge you eight bucks for whatever tiny little thing you eat. that's the single serving life and what it's become. now you have to fit into their robotic single serving limitations and restrictions, and if the packaging is too small for you, you're fucked. your time's up, get the fuck out of the restroom.

i've heard of 'shit or get off the pot', but that's just fucking childish. there's no excuse for you.

last night, i watched some guy get kicked in the head once, and it knocked him out.
about a month ago, i got kicked in the head twice, it didn't even pop my neck.

pussy.

dinner thoughts

all i can do is write. i think skynyrd said that once. i can't stand this anymore. i don't know what to do, or who to talk to, or where to go. i can't find any potheads that know how to share. i can't get a second to think. i can't find anyone with a heart, and i honestly don't know why i'm still looking, i should have given up by now. i know i'll never find what i need. there's no point.

but i have to think anyway. where do i go. i need a place where there are three free meals a day, possible housing, and most importantly, a good ratio of potheads who know how to share, versus any risk of death. i'm trying to stay away from downtown. if someone could just take me away from here, there's nothing here for me, i'm not accomplishing anything.

fuck it, finally stoned.

goddamnit.

what do i want to do.

i picture myself standing on a stage. i've just shocked the audience by telling them i'm bill hicks, and i reach back to the wall behind me, and hit the wall, and just appears on the wall,

© 1995 Bill Hicks

i know what i need to make that happen. how do i meet my heroes. the still living ones.

that right there is a magic trick. for that, i need penn and teller. they're in vegas.

why can you not contact any of these people online, what good is the internet.

who all is in los angeles that i know of. otep shamaya, at least. i know maria brink and in this moment are here. that's her band, for the idiots reading this. who else. los angeles metal bands, i'd have to look them up on wikipedia, i can't remember them all.

this is what i know metal band wise. swedish bands: soilwork, sonic syndicate, in flames, meshuggah, scar symmetry... italian bands: disarmonia mundi, lacuna coil, raintime (split). canadian bands: devin townsend, the birthday massacre, the agonist... i used to know so much more. i know machine head is in oakland, i went there and there was nothing. fear factory, i forget where they are, possibly here. they just released a new album, they're on tour. who else. metal bands, come on, i impressed my wife with this knowledge. sixty thousand albums i had. i know i know them, but i can never list them all at once. when i hear the band name, i know everything about them... or i knew.

comedians... i don't know where most of them are from. they all constantly tour cause there's no guitars for them to track.

scientists, i have no clue where any of them are, for all i know, they're all in sveeden fuckin' with that neutron collider thing, whatever the fuck, i don't keep up on much science, cause what's there to keep up on, i studied history, and that's all they're diggin' in anyway, they still don't know what the fuck forward is, all they see is robots. they work with too many chemicals. that's why they need psychedelic. so before i can even translate to a scientist, i need to start my religion.

what the fuck do i do first? i just need to get attention, and enough money to start something.

easiest ways to get attention quick, open mic at laugh factory, or metal band, that's all i've come up with so far, people don't read. and i don't have enough money yet to record any video or find a book publisher. i don't know where to go to start my own religion, and i still haven't found any computer programmers who give a shit about my ozztek idea, they all think they're smarter than me, and tell me it can't be done. fuck you, anything can be done, i know this can be designed, i see it in my head, i know what it is, i know how to use it, how it works... you fuckin' design the thing, you speak its language, although, essentially, it needs to be built on its own new language, that we also speak, that's my vision. my vision is every step past the first one, i've never been able to see the first step. all i can come up with is open mic. but damned if i can find the motivation to do that one, with their fucking 'sign up next week' shit, the most discouraging idea possible. wait in line all day twosday to sign up, then come back next week to see if you're on the list yet. the fuck you, man, goddamnit, what asshole came up with that. no, if you're there, you go on stage. that's fuckin' just duh law. jesus. open the fucking mic, that's what it's fucking called. do i have to find a smaller club, that does more poetry and shit. i'll google the other comedy places here, and try going to them, but i cannot walk that far. i need more opportunity to work on the shit, and ask someone before making a fool of myself that way. there are too many other ideas at stake here to fuck up on that one first.

ideas... metal band, books, movies of all sorts and lengths... even just my albums are different concepts and different lengths and things, and they grow and evolve, like metamorphosis, someday i want to play that album in this big natural setting with big fucking speakers coming out of the earth, that really pound the shit out of you, and metamorphosis turns into this trippy day long psychedelic metal musical thing... well... fuck it, why go off on that one, no one gives a shit.

fuck it, ideas in order of what i can do first, at least...

open mic.
metal band. first album, first shows.
then get a book out. at least one, if i can have someone just start recording me, and publish some of the shit in some sensible order. cause it's all coming out of me in fragments and shit.

then what. then, i have to be fucking quick, actually, no, immediately when the metal band starts making enough money, i need to hire people and start working on creating ozztek industries.

and while doing that, i need to simultaneously get working on the religion deal, i know i need to do those two ideas at the same time. that's the vision, they're two things... well...

the religion, i need to publish a book about it, with all the information in some good order. it needs to state that i am the dividing line between psychedelic and psychotic states of mind. i am drawing the line where i think it should be drawn, where it needs to be drawn. once i do that, i can start building the community, and attract all the homeless people there, and get them away from psychotic, which will be hard with so many psychotic idiots hating me, to keep them away from the central core of strictly psychedelic... using no weapons. yeah, figure that one out.

i have. it's all in my visions, i've seen basically every possible outcome, all the fragment possibilities, any little thing that could possibly go wrong at any moment, i've not only seen the entire fractal, i've spent my life studying it. i know it well, except for that first step for me. i don't know what happens, what's the first thing to get me onto the path, it's eluded me for too many years, i should have hit something when i was eighteen or twenty. no one knows anymore, but that's why twenty three was so hard to handle, i was lost. banging into this head, chiseling away, and finding nothing but concrete, where is the brain. how do i strike that gold.

i cannot get anyone's attention. they're all numb, controlled, zombies with opinions, not hearts.

i don't know what else to say. i'm hungry.

still thinking alone

since i'm locked out of my facebook, i need to just keep writing. i need to get all my thoughts out. i walked the mile from mcdonald's to the library, asked every pothead looking creature along the way if they could spare some weed. i'm still sober. i fucking hate you people. the people at the free dinner at sycamore and romaine refuse to help me, i keep asking and begging. i don't know where to go to find friendly people. i've tried searching facebook for los angeles potheads, metalheads. what the fuck else am i supposed to do.

i don't want to make friends with people who play videogames.
i don't want to be friends with people who like anime.
i don't want people who do drugs to be my friends.
i don't want to be friends with people who like rap or popular music.
i don't want my friends to push their music choices onto me.
i want friends who are kind enough to keep me stoned when i need it.
i want friends who appreciate my taste in music.
i want friends who don't try to change me, or tell me what's wrong with me.
where are these people.

i want high tech metalhead geek friends who smoke a ton of weed.
i know there are alot of you who exist, where do i find you.

i know among you, there are at least a few who don't like videogames.
there is at least one of you who does not have a job, nor do you want one.
hello, i'm your next good friend, would you like to hang out and get stoned.
we could talk about how much we mutually hate clones and credit cards.

i can't use facebook anymore because they want me to verify my name.
am i the only one who thinks they don't deserve to know that information.
i fucking hate you all so much.
clones, easily led robots who will gladly do whatever they're told without questioning.
i fucking hate you. you make it horrible for the rest of us.

where are those who are dangling off the bottom of the pyramid.
i cannot see you with all the concrete in the way.
could you step out from behind wherever you're hiding, and let me see you.
better yet, could you find me on the street, and say hey, let's get stoned.

i know some of you have to deal with this stress, too.
i think it would be easier to deal with it together.

but i'm the only one who thinks that. no one else has the balls to tell me i'm wrong and prove it.

i fucking hate you.

this system was designed specifically to make life miserable for those who do not wish to participate, which is not only a monopoly, but it's a... i forgot the word.

i can't think anymore. my thoughts have been taken from me so many times. my tongue has been severed, truncated. i am so sick of this shit, and trying to beat my head through it.

i just want to die right now.
i want this life to end.
i want this life to be over.
i want this pain gone.
i no longer want to see any of you.
my heart has been too slaughtered.
there's not much left.
with the last of my life, i'd really like to live in comfort, but that's never going to happen.
i can't even achieve a minimal level of comfort, everything keeps knocking me down.

i fucking hate you.

i want to be free of your dollar hell.

i wrote a poem once. no one cared. and it's gone now.

but it was called 'god's gravity'.

and it told the story of living in poverty, and ended with the lines...

the only solution i can see from my hell,
is for your expensive heaven to fall.

no one cared. no one even ever heard it. no one gave a shit.

i've tried to seek out those songs with the powerful human lyrics. no one else does.

i fucking hate you.

i have to think. what can i do without facebook. that idea wasn't working anyway, it's better off dead. what do i do, how do i find people. there are other social networks.

google maps.
instagram.
meetup.com
bandmix.com
and what was i thinking of the other day.

homeless shit. phone calls. research. addresses, mapping, walking.

what else can i do, where can i post my writings to actually get a response of any kind.

is there a nonapathy.org.

this is so fucking miserable, and makes it worse being alone in this.

every single one of the rest of you are going to keep chasing those dollars till i make them fall alone, aren't you. you're going to ignore me up till the last possible moment.

and you wonder why i fucking hate you. i fucking hate you.

i wonder what people are thinking... you know, you have jobs, you have a boss telling you what to do, and you do it, for money. then we hear that humanity is about to be enslaved.

i've got one serious question. how much more of a slave do you think you have to become, in order to use that word more often.

does it not occur to you, you're already slaves. how much more control do you have to have taken away from you, to realize you're a slave. chains, smelly clothing, and lack of diet?

you're already a slave. admit it to yourself, and you'll feel better.

i fucking hate you. like little silly putty creatures easily stuffable into any mold. any little plastic box, cookie cutter, or crevice.

how do i find those who are not slaves. metalheads, potheads, hippies, geeks.

how do i find you. where are you. on the internet? anywhere besides facebook?

cause i know you're not there. you're too scared to use a social networking site.

you don't even know the reason for that. like wearing a foil hat as a fashion statement.

come on, think. where do i find the bigger minds, if they aren't on facebook.

mensa, bigthink, youtube, fuck it, we'll try youtube next.

i can't even download my naked news videos, the wifi is too slow, it keeps cutting off the files.

i can't download torrents, i can't use pidgin or iconpackager anymore, they're still taking my desktop away from me, after all these years, of what i've been able to keep. i'm just not allowed to be unique online. they force your identity out of you, and you don't realize why.

they don't deserve to know who you are. they certainly can't tell you who you are.

and they cannot take your intellectual property away from you just because you can't verify to them who you are. that is not their right, but they do it because you don't fight back.

you don't say a fuckin' thing.

slaves. clones. all of you.

now i can't use facebook anymore

one hour left, i have to keep writing. my mind is so numb, i have no one to tell, i feel sick, i'm in so much pain i can't finish that sentence, the pain is stopping my thoughts. who the fuck do i tell.

my company.

ozztek industries. the first thing i have to do, is create a new, evolved language. a language that's pregnant with high tech communicative possibilities. a simplified, universal language.

turn that into a programming language for computers, and start designing my own computer platform from the ground up, built on this new language. make the hardware capable of reading it. when it comes time for the operating system, i picture a little menu button tool, fully customizable, i call it ozztek. you can skin the button, to make it look however you want, function however you wish, whatever you want, it's your menu button. if you want the menu to have just chrome, music, and porn in the menu list, that's up to you. if all you do with computers is videogames, then why the fuck do you need an operating system. you're an idiot, and i despise your cloned existence, there's so much more to do on computers than games. i had a friend ask me once, 'if you don't do games, then what do you do on computers'. i said 'everything else'. you fucking moron.

you can use the menu to change your wallpaper, if you want a clock in the corner, you can pick whichever corner you want, design the clock, down to the colours and fonts, shading, everything. you can make it look however you want. i want to encourage people to have unique desktops.

all your desktops look the same. they look just like the inside of your cloned minds. cluttered with icons, temporary or unfinished projects, and at least one folder called 'New Folder', because you couldn't type in a name, or your cat hit the menu function on your keyboard, and you never deleted the empty 'New Folder' off your desktop, or you fucked something else up, to where you can't even delete the folder, i've had that happen before, i can't figure out what that moron did, but i know there are very few ways to get a folder to not delete. ever. sometimes, you're so gifted in your ignorance and your fuckups... oh, not to mention the tiny little picture you have stretched across your desktop, making it look grainy... you know you can download high resolution wallpapers fucking anywhere, right? you don't need a tiny thumbnail picture of your cat stretched across your desktop for all eternity. there are programs that will actually cycle your wallpapers in order, or in random order, you can even make playlists... you have no fucking clue what i'm talking about, i'm sure, so we'll move on.

i don't want to be responsible for an aneurysm today.

i hate your uncreative, unoriginal, nonunique desktops, i hate seeing the same thing every time i look at where your creativity is supposed to reside. wake the fuck up. how can i inspire you to be unique.

i hope my ozztek menu can do that, where i fail. imagine, putting whatever you want, wherever you want, on your desktop, and no one telling you you can't put it there, no error messages popping up anymore, the fuckin' thing just works, it functions, because there is no 'security' software fucking up everything you try to do, and having to provide administrator thumbprints to see your own files, or whatever microsoft intended, which i really don't give a fuck at this point.

this menu tool. ozztek. fully customizable, meaning it starts as the base operating system of just the menu that runs all your files. if you have a picture you want to view, if you have a song you want to hear, if you have a video you want to watch, no matter the format, ozztek just fucking plays it. it's fully customizable, so you can make the video appear however you want. all software for playing and editing files is already in the menu. this is how my desktop would look. when i boot up ozztek for the first time... actually...

when ozztek gets released, it will probly be just a download. i'll put it onto discs, so i can cram that little idea up aohell's ass, since i worked for them. that's just my own personal vengeance. but when you load the menu tool onto your desktop, it will pop up a little box, asking:

'Would you like to just close Windows?'

if you click yes, the windows taskbar disappears, but your winamp and google chrome stay open.

then, you drag the menu onto your desktop anywhere you want it. i would put mine in the upper left corner, and i would make it a small little rusted animated wheel gear thing. maybe a bee buzzing around it. or a ladybug. then, i would put a clock in my lower right corner of my desktop. i would have the fonts be some flat, high tech looking font, big numbers for the hour and minute, small numbers for the seconds, then i'd have the date under that in a pretty floral looking font.

then, i'd make a little weather gadget up in the upper right corner. it would have a nice little picture of the sun, and the temperature outside, in celsius, and when you mouse over the little arrow to the top right of the gadget, it would show a little pop up of what tomorrow's gonna look like. it would pop up a little alert if it's going to rain tomorrow.

then, i'd put a little picture frame with my personal pictures and some naked girls up in the upper left corner, and have it cycle the pictures every minute. then i'd change the wallpaper a few times, to get something nice looking. as high resolution as possible, so the clarity beats yours anyday.

i might even have more than one monitor, so keep that in mind while you're clicking away on your desktop icons, i have twice the desktop, and not one icon in sight.

then, i'd have a little media player gadget up in the middle of my desktop, that looks like an old vinyl record, with the album cover in it, and some beautiful fonts next to it, or underneath, saying the artist name, which i even hate when you call them artists, no, they're supposed to be metal bands, so it should say band name, which is where you would enter 'Disarmonia Mundi', or 'Strapping Young Lad', or 'Sonic Syndicate', not miley fuckin' cyrus. my music gadget... well... god, my thoughts are so severed.

anyway. that's about how my desktop would look. then, i'd hide a little touch notepad as the top pixel across the top of the desktop, i'd have an icon bar hidden on the right side, and my playlist of good music hidden on the left side. no taskbar, no need for it. i can minimize a program to wherever the fuck i want. i swear i just tore the skin on my ass, on this fucking hard seat in the mcdonald's. why can you not afford cushy seats.

anyway. integrated into the ozztek tool, is basically all the media playing software you could ever need. every codec, every editing tool, everything. all customization and media playing capabilities would be integrated into one part of the tool. i want to call it 'mood music'.

imagine.

when you walk into your home, you can say the words 'elegance, roses, mellow'...
you can say 'red, anger, heavy'...
you can say 'deftones, vagina, beauty'...

you can say whatever set of words you want.

'blue, feathers, soft'...

'pink, pearls, prince'...

you can say whatever the fuck you want.

and whatever you say, the computer will start playing music, and will change the colours, look, appearance, and texture of your desktop, putting on wallpapers that correspond to your words, playing songs that have anything to do with that mood.

in your music collection, you can go through and label certain things. for example.

the following songs:

'block' by machine head.
'oh, so surreal' by otep.
and 'skrying' by mudvayne.

all make me picture the same vision of concrete and city chaos. i'm synaesthetic, so i picture all sorts of shit you don't. but don't worry about that, just try to keep up.

those three songs all make me picture the same thing, and i like hearing them together.

so i would add a label to each of those songs, and i'd type in the word 'concrete'. later, if i found a desktop wallpaper that had any sort of visual that compares to what i see in those songs, i would add the tag 'concrete' to the image as well. overtime, the more you label and tag things, the more connections you'll see in your moods.

so if it's the middle of the day, and you're cleaning your house, and you need something heavy to get your energy going, you can say 'bright, heavy, speed', and it will instantly make a playlist of music, and start cycling wallpapers, and it will play songs that give you that energy to pick clothes up off the floor and spray the counter with lemon scented crap.

or, if you're coming home in the evening, from a long day of... not working... but you're tired, your wife is about half an hour behind you with the food, and you want to set the mood for her to walk into, you can say 'enya, calm, soft, blue', and it will start playing all your mellow, ambient music, it will change all the colours and lighting of your home to shades of blue... you see you really don't even need to say the words 'calm' and 'soft', cause that's already implied by 'enya' and 'blue'. and the first enya album it would put on, is shepherd moons, because it has the blue album cover. it would also play the first album by enigma, since there is some blue in the album cover. it would not be playing machine head's the burning red album, not even the intro track. it might play 'landing on the mountains of meggido' by down, or it might play 'heartbeat city' by the cars, depending on if you left the word 'soft' in your list.

if you're in a red mood, just say the colour red, it will play all your red music, and cycle all your red wallpapers. if you're in that particular mood, and porn just won't do it for you anymore, and your girlfriend just walked out the door for the last time, leaving you frustrated and unsatisfied...

you can say the word 'pussy', and maybe follow that with 'pink', or 'wet'.

it will start playing any music you have about pussy, which i don't recommend. it will start cycling all your wallpapers with naked ladies, and depending on which word you picked, 'pink', or 'wet'...

do i need to keep stating the obvious, and overexplaining this shit, i'm sure you get the idea by now.

i don't need to hold your hand like a little child and guide you through your own mind.

i had my own two kids i wanted to do that for.

i can't wait to invent this tool, because it would simplify so much, and make life easier.

it would also force microsoft and apple to implode, and realize what retarded, selfish losers they were.

trying to control people's desktops, you should be ashamed of yourselves.

you inspired zero uniqueness. and i can prove it by comparing any two desktops of any two people.

i see the computers that tony stark uses.

people sure as hell can't spell 'escape' correctly, but they can't even say it right anymore, they actually pronounce it 'excape'. you're just fucking retarded, and there's no excuse for you. if you say that word to the mood music tool, it will not play that song by metallica, on the ride the lightning album. and you'll hopefully feel like a fuckin' loser. which hopefully will inspire you to change yourself, and learn how the fuck to pronounce 'escape' properly, and spell it correctly, and put a fucking wallpaper on your desktop, maybe delete some icons. you're a fuckin' loser.

nevermind that.

when i see the computers that tony stark uses, i see not windows. i see the corpse of bill gates getting pissed on by winged cat creatures thousands of years from now. i see peace. freedom. beauty. simplicity. harmony.

i see an existence unsuffocated. unchained.

why not design a computer with all it ever needed to be. a menu. plays your files. simple.

design the menu however you want. you can have different functions for what happens when you mouse over the menu button, or when you click on it, or when you right click on it... imagine, three different menus coming out of one button, depending on how you click on it, or hell, you could set the hover effect to just be a little animation, to make the bee land on the flower if you want.

at that point, whoever said 'the only limitation is your mind', would finally be right.

you can even upload your screenshots and gadget creations for others to download.

but if any of you try to design the same desktop i have, i'll sue your ass back into the eighties.

don't clone yourself. define yourself.

ozztek industries.

it's about time to walk up to the library now. i fucking hate you people. but my brain feels lighter without that turd festering away in there. i give a fuck what any of you think. infact, i'm no longer talking to any of you, or responding to your shit. i'll just talk to myself, and get my ideas out of my head till i feel better. i'll do it sober, cause i can't ask anyone for weed, and i can't find a pothead nice enough to be a friend. i can't even have someone sober enough tell me where a better part of los angeles is, or where do i find my people.

the people who hate money. the people who hate other people, especially clones.

the other bill hicks fans.
hippies, metalheads, potheads... techie people.

where are you fucks!

i never feared animosity. not like you. what i fear is going backward.

dave mustardstain sang the lyric, 'a dark black past is my most valued possession'.

i always hated that line. fuck the past.

someone once said, 'what is past is prologue'.

i don't think it's even that. when we wake up and realize that we're all just braincells and neurons, we're going to look back on this past of calling ourselves humans as 'what the fuck were we thinking'.

you refer to the dark ages like it was a long time ago.

you're still walking your dog on a leash, asshole. you all are.

if i'm the only one stepping fearlessly into the future... what's the point.

i'm waiting for any of you to catch the fuck up, catch on, find me...

what the fuck do i have to do. i thought joining a marijuana group on facebook would accomplish something, because i thought, hey, there might be another pothead in that group that lives in los angeles, and might be nice enough to say, hey, you sound too sober, wanna hang out?

but that person is too busy being lazy and playing videogames.

i'll tell you right now, if you play videogames, you'll never be my friend.
if you've ever done meth, crack, or heroin, you're never going to be my friend.
if you have a bible in your sock drawer...
if you have icons on your desktop...

kinda reminds me of the 'you might be a redneck' thing.

if you've ever been a redneck... you're not on my shopping list this year.
if you've ever been violent, you won't be receiving a christmas present from me.

if you talk down to me, like i'm dumber than you... you're on my shitlist.

especially if you could actually read this thing. fuck it, time to walk.

fortuna cookies and brain melts

my mother dies, and this is what i get from my little fortune cookie friends.

Hang in there. I know this is hard and sometimes the tunnel seems so dark. But there is a light at the end and while you will always miss her, the pain will subside.

i was constantly being told how i was asking too much of my little fortune cookie humans.

i'm asking too much.

i'm always asking too much.

i advertise homelessness. does anyone realize that about me? does anyone know that about me? does anyone understand that, and what that means, what it implies? anyone care to take a stab in the dark?

leave your homes.
leave your security.
stop buying that product.
there's a fucking earth out there.
don't be scared.
god made dirt, and dirt don't hurt.
that's what i was going to teach my children before they were taken away by vultures.

the more you fear, the less you'll see.

i'm still pursuing me.

arcata

i'm so lost. i don't know what to do or what to say. i'm sick of walking through these concrete wastelands of the human spirit, looking for my people, when they don't fucking exist. i'm sick of looking for hippies, they don't fucking like me, most of them are too violent or psychotic, which, in my opinion, aren't real hippies. hippies give free love and free weed, and should help people keep their bellies full better than christians and churches. what the fuck is wrong with this world.

where do i go. where do i find my people. how do i start my own religion to declare my separation from this monetary nightmare. if i can't find anyone to hear my voice, or give half a shit about me, where the fuck do i go, what the fuck do i do. i've tried everything short of joining mensa just to be understood, i'm wasting time walking through city after city of the same fucking thing. people with concrete in their hearts. where do i find my people. people who might actually care about me enough to make my life just a little easier.

all i see is apathy. people who can't spare a dollar, still trying to keep up with a dead dream, and in denial that it's over. still trying to suck something worthwhile out of it.

i've run out of words to ask people. what the fuck do i say. no one wants to hear it. i've been studying humanity for quite a while, and i see that i have no audience, no friends, no one who would give half a fuck about me. i can't find them online, or in cities, where the fuck are they. the people who want this money shit to be over with. where are they. i know they exist. i've written so many unread blogs trying to reach you fuckers, what hole are you hiding in. why won't you contact me.

i'm so lost in this town. arcata california, in humboldt county, and i can't find a single person to spare a nug, or a hug, or help feed me, there's no free meals in this fucking town, what the fuck am i doing here. being in san francisco wouldn't be any better, and seattle, not much better than that. where the fuck do i go. looking for free food, free weed, free cigarettes, getting fucked with my money every month, this dead end fucking road of constant nowhere. i can't get a lawyer, i can't figure out what the fuck to do. no one will help me, no one has a three digit iq that i can communicate with. what the fuck do i do. i'm so lost, so confused, and no one will help for shit. what the fuck is wrong with you people. i want you to know, i truly oppose all seven billion of you scumfucks, every single one of you, this is not how life should be and you're all lost in a fucking haze of idiocy. get the fuck out of it. videogames, meth, rap music, products, money, it's all a dead load of fuckin' horse shit! wash it off your fucking skin and try being a fucking human again!!!

what the fuck do i do!?

i want to start my own religion, where i draw the line between psychedelic and psychotic.
i want to design my own computer platform from the ground up, that gives people control over their own desktop environments, and takes that control away from microsoft and apple.
i want to make music that shows people how music should be made when it's not trying to get on a radio.
i want to make movies that describe in beautiful details how life should really be like on this planet.
i want to design my own clothing that show people you don't have to all look the same.
i want to design my own foods, so we can get away from mcdonald's and let it die.

are these ideas not good enough for anyone?

i want to build my own community of people who all just work for eachother, and do nothing but give and love.

is that not good enough.

what do i have to do to get your attention.

what part of my soul have i not sold to you, or just handed over.

all you do is take from me.

the only people who approach me are psychotic people who just want something.

i can't attract the eye of a single person i'd actually want to talk to.

no one loving, no one caring, no one who finds me the least bit interesting. and i think i'm pretty fucking interesting. but in all these cities, all i see are yuppie clones chasing dollars, and people getting fucked by the system and don't have enough money to live right, and people who have entirely given up on the system, but still won't break way from it to get closer to my voice.

you're all just as lost as i am, but less willing to do anything to change this world.

what do i have to do.

how many more blogs do i have to post before someone reads them and actually fucking responds to me, instead of just running away scared.

where are the brave people.
people who know what love is.
people who could give a fuck about money.
people who know how to live life right.
people who can help me start a religion for us.
people who...

back in san francisco

okay. finally getting some blogging time. i'm back in sf. i wanted to take advantage of at least the nude beach again while i'm here. and the better food at glide, possible free weed and smokes, easier to get than in berkeley, at least. i still need to figure out how to get in contact with my big brain people, and how to write a book and create my own religion. hopefully have someone helping with those. not sure what else i want to do in california, now my mind is set on illinois, but that's confusing me a little, from pursuing the open mic here in california, and shit like that. i wasn't quite ready to leave the west coast yet, cause this is where all the 'get famous' chances are. and i use that term lightly, cause i ain't in it for the fame or money. but san francisco did confuse the shit out of me, and took a few of my priorities away from me. and some inspiration and motivation. but i figure if i can give it another chance, and get some enjoyment out of the nude beach and all, and somehow try to get down to los angeles before i leave california, but i do need to get behind four warm walls of my own and a door i can lock, that is top priority, so says my body, so you can just shut up.

i'm trying to download music onto my phone, but it's not easy, and i'm running out of space. and it's not easy to find all my music, most of the torrents for them have gone dead, cause everyone already has those collections, so why keep them going, i get it. but it shouldn't be this hard to track down a strapping young lad torrent that will actually download. other than that, i'm still rather confused, without a laptop at least to have my world around me, it's not easy to focus on what i wanted. i have a laptop on newegg.com that i really want, and it's fast enough and cheap enough, only about six hundred bucks, i sure wish i could find someone who's doing well enough that they could buy it for me. other than that, feathers might be sending me two oldish ones, which is fine, i can deal, as long as i can still skin them. i just need some digital me for my eyes. a little world of something mine.

and as i write this part, the song by nine inch nails is playing, called 'something i can never have'. i've always loved that tune. there's alot i thought i'd never have, and still do, but i'm still working to get it all. i hate when people use the terms 'fighting for' and 'dying for', cause i'd rather live for something, and actually live to see it. if you die for your children's future, how do you know they're enjoying it, they're probly miserable without you.

i also wanted to put in here, fragmented or not, a bunch of the music i'm still needing to download, since i can't remember when it comes time to download. i don't often get wifi, so i'm unprepared when i finally get wifi, and i freeze, thinking, oh, shit, what did i want to download, and i try to run through my collection in my head, and i keep thinking, already have that, already have that, and there are only so many bands i can think of anymore, i start listing off, disarmonia mundi, deftones, soilwork, in flames, sonic syndicate, mudvayne, and i can't think past most of those. i wish i could at least have some little picture of my collection and all the bands i like, so i could easily think, oh, yeah, i wanted to download blondie's cover of marilyn manson's the dope show, and then i go to download it, and the file won't download cause no one has that fuckin' song! you fucks!

so if anyone can find some of these songs, or albums, or discographies, and help some of those songs get onto my phone somehow, whether by email or google drive, or something, would sure be fucking wonderful.

and i'm even going to try and keep it listed by heaviness. my music folders on my computer should look like this:

Comedy
Grungy
Light Metal
Heavy Metal
Mellow
Older
Oldest
Tunage

mostly what i'm trying to fill up right now, is grungy and the metals, and some mellow and oldies, but it's not working that well.

in the grungy folder, i have everything from alice in chains, a perfect circle, boy hits car, i mother earth, faith no more, godsmack, disturbed, deftones, tool, ashes divide, altered state, drowning pool, collective soul, mad season, temple of the dog, pearl jam, nirvana, soundgarden, stone temple pilots, white zombie, marilyn manson, nine inch nails, murderdolls, and i'm really trying to think of more. foster the people, florence + the machine, guns n' roses, incubus, coal chamber, jane's addiction, jerry cantrell, machines of loving grace, offspring, radiohead, rage against the machine, violent femmes... i'll keep trying to add to this. there's also alot saved in my facebook, if someone could help me piece that together into an actual list, i've been trying to do so for about a year now, and on library computers, it's fucking retarded and beyond restricted and close to impossible.

light metal is mostly gothic metal, things like that. after forever, the birthday massacre, delain, within temptation, lacuna coil, revamp, epica, theatre of tragedy, type o negative... i can't remember too many of those, but that kills me, cause there were some damn good artists in that folder. down, corrosion of conformity, guns n' roses, danzig... goddamnit. kill devil hill, life of agony, ozzy osbourne. tiamat.

heavy metal folder was fucking... a work of art. alphabetical heaviness. arkaea, chimaira, children of bodom, cradle of filth, disarmonia mundi, fear factory, devildriver, hellyeah, in flames, lamb of god, machine head, meshuggah, mudvayne, opeth, otep, pantera, raintime, soilwork, sonic syndicate, scar symmetry, testament, the agonist, vision of disorder. god, i wish i could remember more of these. where's all my fuckin' metal! in this moment.

anyway, so that's most of what i can think of today. my brain's been fairly thoughtless for the last week. berkeley really sucked. like literally sucked me dry, sucked the life out of me, sucked the thoughts out of my brain, i feel retarded, and can't think of anything. put some acid on my tongue, please.

but anyway, i figured i'd do without glide dinner tonight, just to get some good computer time in. spent a few hours here, it's easier to do in sf, the computers are restricted in just a different way, but i don't actually need to log on just to access the files on my phone, so i don't have to waste internet time dealing with phone files and music and shit, so that's nice.

i'm also really not wanting to go back up to haight, but i'll end up having to just to get some weed. but i'd like to stay around the nude beach as much as i can, and see if i can't meet some fetlife people at least.

when i first built my music collection, i had years to do so, and did a ton of research, and tracking down some of those bands wasn't easy. i used wikipedia, i looked up related bands, i also used last.fm, and looked up similar artists, which was a nice feature, they actually have some taste when it comes to certain metals, if you're looking for someone like theatre of tragedy, they will show you the bands most like theatre of tragedy, it's pretty cool. but not even just those, i mean some of the bands i just randomly heard of, like... shit, what was the one... i need to look this one up right quick, i can't remember what it was... shit, it's not on wikipedia, all i can remember, was the name of the album was something like 'the architects', or something like that, but it was a band i discovered when i was getting gas at a gas station once, and some car pulls by crankin' metal, and i asked him what it was, and it was some local band no one else would ever have heard of. i think it might have been released between 2006 and 2009, and the album cover was a tan/brown colour, like old paper. someone find that fucking album, and i'll give you a cookie.

anyway, i've got twenty minutes left, and no thoughts left, so i might as well call it a night.

try to imagine if you had sixty thousand children, and one day they all disappeared, and you had to remember each one. i had sixty thousand albums of some beautiful music that i truly loved. and i was proud to have shit you won't find on itunes. i had good music that you fucks don't even know about.

i like tootin' my own horn. sounds better than yours.

stay fuckin' metal.

may sixteen, berkeley

okay, what to write about today. i've got half an hour left, and i've got to transfer some files on my phone and flashdrive, and sort the songs, which i don't have time enough to do all of. that makes sense. i don't know why libraries have to be so fucking limited and restricted, they're places for knowledge, you dumb fucks. you shouldn't have to explain that shit to people. get a fucking clue already, goddamnit, we have windows eight, what the fuck are you waiting for! update! upgrade! evolve, goddamn you! jebus nuclear behebus mcstarbucks fuckknuckle christ on a hot dog bun!

okay, rant number two. that's my time for the day. thanks, library.

links for feathers

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new plans finally

okay, so apparently i'm going to illinois. fuck it, i can handle that. i need a change, cause 'west coast' people are not as cool as they said they were. so i'm here at the berkeley library deciding how the fuck i'm to get out of this town. it was easier being broke on haight street. and this computer is beyond slow. and these stupid library computers are so ignorantly restricted for human gerbils that, just to move files from my phone to the sd card on the phone, or even through a flashdrive, which i like to do for backup, i have to move one file at a fucking time. should monkeys have to use computers that way?

so i'm getting the fuck out of california till it gets fun again.

my new online friend, tina, is helping me get to wherethefuck.com illinois. peoria. and i know there's metal concerts in peoria, at least, i've seen that name on the backs of slayer shirts, so i'll be fine, in fact, i think even mudvayne came from around there. i can wiki that anytime i need to.

so how the fuck do i get out of california with no money. san francisco has this thing, called 'homeward bound', where, if you know someone out of california that will help you get set up in a place to live or whatever, that the san francisco place will pay your bus ticket home to them, they put you on a greyhound for free, as long as you're going to where this other person is. so i'm gonna try that again, but that means i have to get back to san francisco. but hey, while i'm there, i might as well take advantage of the free food that i know where it is, the libraries, and the possible nudity, especially on the beach again, that was nice. sounds fun, actually, i wasn't quite ready to leave san francisco, i wanted to have more fun there before i left. there aren't that many other cities where you can be naked and not get shot.

which makes me wonder, what if the second coming of christ was a nudist like he should be?

machine head would be right.

so i've got thirty six minutes left to use this slow ass snail dinosaur piece of shit made of too much plastic and not enough metal, to figure out how the fuck i'm getting where today, and i'm sober and without smoke or money. got pockets full of oranges incase i miss lunch, two bags of skeeter brand, nut free cinnamon graham bears, a bag of mini carrots... wait... skeeter brand, nut free graham crackers... what the fuck! are you serious?

anyway. so that's my day. made a new friend that's actually being human. shows the rest of you, i knew i would find someone better than you. human fucks.

i will create a twelve step program that sobers you up from those credit cards.

to feathers

okay. last night sucked. some smackhead piece of shit kicked me out of my spot, so I had to move. I woke up at one point, heard no music, looked for my phone, couldn't find it... and I wasn't quite awake enough to know what was going on, but it was there. and I have two phones. last month, I bought a little twenty dollar piece of shit android just to have music on, something to listen to for my sanity and to keep the world out. then, beginning of this month, I tried to get my windows phone replaced that's tied to my cricket account that I've been paying for months now without being able to use, and that monthly bill, and the stupidity and greed of my bank over that bill, have been putting me three hundred bucks in the hole every month, so I stopped putting any cash on my bank card, spent all my cash this month, leaving me more fucked because I can't get a new debit card without an address, apparently banks don't like travelers.

but that wasn't intentional what I said last night, that was my ptsd talking, and it's hard to explain. but that's what ptsd does to the human heart. it's made me very hateful, and I don't like being that way. but I found the phone that plays my music, I was texting on my windows phone that actually makes calls and crap, the little android doesn't do shit except wifi, and I kind of like it that way.

now, to answer your other two questions. the first one is a long story. my wife was the only woman I ever met who was capable of leaping right through my tank armor into my heart and staying there. she didn't care about how I was dressed, or that I had no money to give, she just genuinely found me interesting, fascinating, amazing, and constantly told me that. she couldn't get enough of me, she was just curious about me, who I was, everything I told her she loved hearing, and I don't know if it was just because she was so young, or naïve, or uncorrupted by such a fucked world, I don't know, but she loved me more than I ever expected to get out of this world that hates me so much.

so when you say you got past my tank armor, I guess after her, I kind of let it down, but it's still up with all my enflamed people issues and ptsd from traveling the past year, and being homeless the past two years, and having my life repeatedly destroyed the past three years... I guess once in a while, another brain is curious enough to find their way in, but most just get overwhelmed and find their way back out. I don't know. I don't know why no one can find me valuable enough, they all just seem to want money, and no real friendship anymore. and if I ask for friendship, I'm asking too much, and what can I give in return. I do still have a thick armor, but if you were curious enough to find your way in, I guess you can answer that question. I don't consciously let it down, or put it up, I'm just desperately trying to be social so I can get an idea accomplished, but I am the one who's truly antisocial, but I'm having to communicate with a species that is beyond antisocial, and in complete denial of it, and I can't figure that part out. they call me antisocial, and I proudly claim to be, but people on facebook are elitist scum, greedy reptilian fascist clowns and clones and selfish products selling themselves shamelessly and expecting to be surrounded by more valuable products, and I see this barrel of retarded fish hanging onto a fantasy, a dream, a pyramid of lies and illusions, and unhealthy delusions, and I can't fit that ugly piece of death meat into my heart anymore, without feeling like mcdonald's is personally trying to choke the life out of me. I'm very hateful of humanity at this point in their distraction, but when distraction changes to development, my third eye already pictures having a lot more faith, love, and smiles in those around me. but how do I stop attracting psychotics and start attracting psychedelics, when psychedelics seem more fearful than deer in a quiet forest. I'm befuddled and completely lost, and it's not easy at this strange spot in my life, to find ways to communicate and get myself the things I need just to function at the same time, so when I get overloaded by both, I don't do well, and I sound like an asshole. I do apologize.

your second question. no, you're not a cockroach. intelligent people I talk to, and am brave enough to share these rants with, I'm assuming that they'll find this shit pouring out of my mouth humourous, and agree with it, because I know they feel the same way, but I don't know if it's just my artistic, poetic, passionate choice of words, or what, but they just do not seem to understand, it rarely translates, and people always get pissed off at the smallest words in my rant, instead of reading between the lines and seeing the humour in it, and that confuses the shit out of my heart, and really fucking hurts on a daily basis, when people don't laff at my jokes, that simple little act of something wrong in nature, and I feel like exploding. people constantly get bent out of shape over the word 'you' in my rants. and I think to myself, shouldn't people who are intelligent enough, naturally assume I don't mean them, I'm not talking about them, no, of course you're excluded from the general consensus or scope of aim and random spray of my rants, and I can prove it with a simple checklist, because those are the things I'm aiming at, so if you don't:

a: smoke crack,
b: smoke meth,
c: shoot heroin,
d: make bad decisions in life,
e: act irresponsibly,
f: fuck your life away,
g: blame society for willingly being the problem,

then guess what, survey says you're okay, you're in the audience of the jerry springer show, you're not on the stage, and guess what else, for a limited time only, it's not a Gallagher show, so you're safe from spraying watermelons as well! jeepers, mom, guess what's behind door number three?

so yes, I'm trying to say for the billionth time, this is my special brand of dark, deadly sarcasm, toxic hateful wordsmithing and alien speech from a very verbally talented, creative poet who has had his talents dragged through the fucking proverbial primordial pond scum goo pool of shit and tar and bad drugs and worse decisions by people who just clearly do not give a heapin' load of horse turds and goat scrunts and other gifted things that could make excellent death metal song titles or even band names, it's just sarcasm, but it's seen as offensive, and it says on my twitter, I am truly sorry to offend those I like in this world, but I'm built to offend everyone, and I'm waiting for someone to read my twitter and understand that, and approach me as a warm soul, saying 'you can't hurt me with your words, I accept you as you are'.

because it even says on my twitter, and I'm rather proud of this one, because it's kept me alive in some bad situations...

'whoever said 'sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me', obviously never met me'.

my wife loved that line, but not as much as she loved this one...

yeah, I'm nutty. I dance naked in the rayne and laff at raynebows.

there is a lot of love in my heart, radiating out, pouring out in tears and poems, and I'm waiting for it to stop being so misunderstood and start being loved for the painful truth that it is.

I'm sorry I don't speak to others expectations, but I like speaking my tongue, it's comfortable to me to not conform to what everyone else does, I like being unique, and I'm not going to stop, no matter who it hurts, because I've been hurt so much, that that's all that seems to be pouring out of me lately, which is why I need to get it out of me, into a book, and move on, I want the past out of my life.

I hope that answers your questions. I'm out of time. talk to you in a bit. thank you again.

losing hopes

I've only got about fifteen minutes to write something here. I hate this shit. this world is nothing but inconveniences, and I have ideas to simplify everything, and no one wants to listen to me. I walk into countless libraries, asking countless people for the slightest bit of help or information, and they can't be bothered. I try to think of better ways to phrase my questions, to communicate to them what I'm looking for, or asking for, and they just refuse to have a human heart in place of their chase for dollar bills. does everyone have to be this selfish. I really do not see what you all are chasing after, and why each one of you has to have the same cloned life, the same music collection, the same clothes, what are you all getting out of the same sober experience of this life, why can't just a few of you be lured in my direction by nothing more than your curiosity. does curiosity not exist in your hearts anymore. what do I have to do, what do I have to say, where do I have to go, who do I have to talk to.

I know there are people like me in this world, how the fuck do I find you fuckers, and why do you avoid me, hide from me, run in fear when I see you, saying I overwhelm you, overload you.

if so many people say I overwhelm them, maybe I could put that shit on cd and you could rock to it.

if I ask for help of any kind from any fellow human, I feel like I'm breaking a moral law of theirs.

whose karma did I inherit, hitler's? how much blood have I not given to this earth? how in debt am I?

because I could teach you all something about the national debt you don't want to know.

when will knowledge be valuable, and when will money be no longer valuable.

will I get to burn that last dollar.
will I get to see another human smile in my direction that's genuine and not sarcastic or forced.
will I attract another female eye as long as I exist.
will my wife be the only woman in my life who was capable of looking at me that way.

eight minutes left, I supposed I could say more to fill this time.

why am I not allowed to ask seven billion out of control breeders for the slightest bit of help in going head first against a monetary society I don't agree with, to create my own society and get my kids back from an evil organization that shouldn't even exist, because it's not my fault you overpopulated the planet with violent psychotic unevolved Neanderthals and authorities who don't know their trigger finger from an asshole in the ground. and why does this computer still capitalize the word Neanderthals. no, they are unevolved, so is god. stop capitalizing this shit and telling me how I should write and what I should say. I cracked up a librarian the other day, by saying that people always finish my sentences, and then say 'well, I knew what you were going to say', and then I say 'what, am I that unoriginal, that you already read my thought on twitter last week?', and she chuckled. am I not allowed to finish what I'm saying, ever.

I come from a family of assholes who interrupted me so much, I had to tell my psychiatrist I was being intentionally brutally verbally slaughtered, so you can imagine how little I've been heard in my life. and that's okay, that's completely acceptable in a world where even the biggest hearts tell you you're on your own. that's the most passion, compassion, or sympathy they can seem to muster when their lives are being destroyed by the dollar as we speak. I hate that, I hate seeing your life get worse because you helped me, but I hate seeing other lives enjoying their warm houses, warm cars, and restaurant drinks. three minutes left, on a crappy keyboard, so I guess I'm done for the day. sober, weedless, and starving, no one will even tell me where shit is in this town. it's that much worse than haight. where can I go, this is fucking California, where the fuck do I go to find my people???

and why the fuck does every library I walk into smell like shoe shit!!!

oakland in may

since I couldn't find any love on haight, I've come to Oakland for metal. let's see if I find it. got my windows phone finally, but it's a small one. I wasn't able to get my fifteentwenty. don't know what to write about at the moment, just starting may on this blog. since it's the only blog I still have access to, thanks to the security product you sell me. just wait till my thumb takes over.

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.