Rantings of a Madman

I want a girlfriend who looks like this...

2005-10-29T19:18:00.000-07:00

I have reached what must be the very bottom of where i can in this life without descending into that kind of bottom feeding tracksuit/heroin filth that i love so much.
Its like having a curtain pulled back to reveal the Wizard is a dick and a looser, but your the Wizard.
The long haul upwards is so long and so upwards it might as well cost all the money in the world for the rights to buy the screenplay, but if i dont at least walk up to try and grab it, i can see what the alternative is, and it sucks.

Fraudulin.

2005-10-29T01:17:00.000-07:00

I was in love with Sophia Coppola before anyone else was.
Even back in Godfather III.
Fuckers.
I hate Spike Jonze.
Cunt.
Anyway-
It seems like sometimes it's hard to stay awake, from the first concious, orderly thought upon waking till your last intentional waking thought before sleep, to not let viscious Idea's and horrific meme's pray eat and tear away at everything else.
When you have a thought or idea that is stuck in your head, a debiliating one, like a disease, like a pro-active and aggresive affliction that conciously seeks out cells to infect, it's hard to give life to anythign else, to even move, shit or wank without having this Cloud, veiled over everythign.
Even when you walk down the street and run into Strangers and Randoms, you compare yourself and your problems with them. The suits are monied and superior in a way you/I can only dream of, and the bums and Lost are all piss stained with marks and taints on their clothes not that far removed from yours, and some of them have better shoes.
ANd i have never seen a bum with a mobile phone in worse condition than mine.
But i sleep and wake up and sleep and wake up, and the Idea continues to get fat and bloated and happy off me.

In Dreams

2005-10-22T15:34:00.000-07:00

the candy coloured clown they call the sandman, punches me in the face, every night.
Sometimes i am defeaned by the noise of a thousand squillion keyboards all fueled by desire and solitude, reaching into a dense an wire coated dark pool of reflections, trying to find their own face in it, or a completely different one so they dont have to look at their own.
Im sitting at a window waiting for a rap-rapping that will likely never come.
All i can hear are clouds of laughter from the cafe next door, and i hate it the way i hate groups of laughing girls because i'll never be in on the joke.
I had to re-edit this thing because i spelled most of it wrong.
My brain is just a cloud of ridiculous thoughts held together by binding chemicals, themselves clouded and tainted with god knows what that i have put in there myself.
Inside that cloud is the secret of everything i want to know and the means with which to do anything, but i cant figure out where it is kept and how to open it, so I sit here and rot and wipe my ass.

Sometimes i wonder No wait...always, i am wondering.

2005-09-12T17:35:00.000-07:00

I find this to be a particularly inspiring picture.
Probably one that changes the direction of my life.

Candy Coloured Clowns

2005-09-05T15:34:00.000-07:00

Here is a picture of two kittens.
My best friend has been sexually assaulted.
That has not made me happy.
My other best friend has left her dipshit, loser boyfriend.
That has made me very happy.
Im in the same place today as I was yesterday.
That makes me want to kill myself.

This is Crazy

2005-09-02T19:30:00.000-07:00

This is the picutre of a large pickle.
Im posting it because the pickle was consumed in New Orleans.
It was consumed there earlier this year by a friend of mine, so it is safe from the current traumatic events ravaging one of the worlds most beloved cities.
i am now convinced the Human Race deserves everything it does to itself.

1st Day of Spring

2005-09-01T01:12:00.000-07:00

Today I am in a confusing world.
There is the sound of rushing cars outside my window, the air is cold and im sitting in an olive chair. It has a white throw over on it to protect it from taint.
The Throwover, white and comfortably abrasive to the touch, is stained beyond salvation; no bleach, no miracle whitener, no domestic product no matter how thouroughly tested by whichever Institute can restore this fabric to it's once and former glory.
Its stained with the ageless shadows of red wine, whiskey and sweat.
Cum stains in the corner, some blood just by the hem
Today is the day of Spring, the First day of the Melbourne Fringe, the First day of September and the day after i got a Tarot card from the Dutchling Spirit.
One can choose to think of these things in either one way, or the other.
I want nothing more than to shag the friggen tears out of a skinny ass-arty-black-wearing-(asian)-exhibition whore
Im going to give it one for the Team.
I figure, ulimately, that I will write until i can't no more, and thats how i will know i have died.