bus ridin' fool
- user since
- Sun Jun 25 2000 at 03:57:20 (8.3 years ago )
- last seen
- Sun Sep 24 2006 at 05:46:02 (2 years ago )
- number of write-ups
- 127 - View bus ridin' fool's writeups (feed)
- level / experience
- 4 (Scribe) / 5336
- C!s spent
- 29
- motto
- http://www.livejournal.com/users/unkle_social
- most recent writeup
- December 30, 2005
I like to think you miss me more than I miss you.
.
once upon a time I was born. then I lived. then I grew up and became a student. there is nothing I can put here that will make me any more interesting than I am already. somewhere in this mess is my mailing address. send me things. visit me. someday I will add bits here that will make you love me. but not today.
what is below this line is somewhat outdated, but i will leave it here because it takes up space. -------------------------------------------------------
so I've paid a deposit so that I can move and now I wake up to panic attacks every morning. I fear change, except for the bus or the laundry.
June 25...This morning I confided to my diary that certain things in my life aren't just right. specifically, "I long for something more This evening, I realised that there are things that make me melt on the inside. But for all the wrong reasons.
everyone i know, goes away, in the end....and you could have it all, my empire of dirt, i will let you down, i will make you hurt...if i could start again...
i'm so lonely, i wish i was the moon tonight
how deep is the ocean?, how high is the sky...
no one can hear me screaming.
if you can't fuck 'em, stalk 'em
it's like nothing i do matters
teenage angst is supposed to clear up after puberty
isn't it?
hmm... watch out for slugs.
single, white female seeks job and new digs. i need change What could we say...we're only 25 years old? With 25 sweet summers, and hot fires in the cold This kind of life makes that violence unthinkable We'd like to play hockey, have kids and grow old He's just a peacenik and she's just a warhawk That's where the beach was, that's where the sea What could we say...we're only 25 years old? And history seems to agree that I would fight you for me That us would fight them for we Is that how it always will be? The world today seems absolutely crackers, With nuclear bombs to blow us all sky high. There's fools and idiots sitting on the trigger. It's depressing, and it's senseless, and that's why...this is a list of things i hate
--- Did you ever listen to the sound of street cats making love
Dressed up to the eyes,
it's a wonderful surprise
to see your shoes and your spirits rise.
Throwing out your frown
and just smiling at the sound
and as sleek as a shriek
spinning round and round.
Always take a big bite.
It's such a gorgeous sight
to see you eat in the middle of the night.
You can never get enough;
Enough of this stuff
It's friday
I'm in love.
2003.1.23@4:02 jessicapierce says re cinnamon toast house: BRILLIANT! i'm on a hovercraft to Paris with my former best friend
My life is a stereo "Chiclitz's nickname will seem mysterious to those readers not familiar with the threatening question, "Do you want a mouthful of bloody Chiclets?" (p. 66 A Companion to The Crying of Lot 49, J. Kerry Grant, The University of Georgia Press 1994). The bloody Chiclets refer, of course, to teeth of the person who is being threatened. Why is it that blowing bubbles in chocolate milk is so much fun? maybe it's because you can make the half-filled glass full of chocolately bubbly goodness. Skim milk is best for bubbles, it frothes the best. but you can't get chocolate skim milk here, so you have to make it yourself. and i always make it extra chocolately. one day i will learn how to spell. I kind of want to break into Pseudo_intellectual's house, steal one of his possessions and send it back to him as a christmas present, just to see if he really will shit in an envelope.
I got to thinking one day about all those women on the Titanic who passed up dessert at dinner that fateful night in an
Albert, I have a clarinetist friend who can't stand Benny Goodman. Aren't people exceedingly odd?Time to play another game of good idea, bad idea. Good Idea - playing catch with Grandpa Bad Idea - playing catch, with Grandpa I would like, if I may, to take you on a strange journey... So let's sink another drink/ 'Cause it'll give me time to think/ If I had a chance, I'd ask one to dance/ And I'll be dancing with myself what can I say? talk about me. I am a stereotype. I have low self esteem (i scored 36 on the Rosenburg scale). I call myself a writer but I don't write anymore. I am an arts student who is seeking education for education's sake. I can't draw, yet I have created many wax crayon masterpieces. All of my front teeth are fake. I don't clean my bathroom. I am 20. I don't like it. I was supposed to be cool by now. go somewhere mapless, into the unknown. to launch yourself into fright, to really find things out my nodeshells: why are you so mean to her? you know she has depression. "I took advantage of being at the seaside to lay in a store of sucking-stones. They were pebbles but I call them stones. Yes, on this occasion I laid in a considerable store. I distributed them equally among my four pockets, and sucked them turn and turn about. This raised a problem which I first solved in the following way. I had say sixteen stones, four in each of my four pockets these being the two pockets of my trousers and the two pockets of my greatcoat. Taking a stone from the right pocket of my greatcoat, and putting it in my mouth, I replaced it in the right pocket of my greatcoat by a stone from the right pocket of my trousers, which I replased by a stone from the left pocekt of my trousers, which I replaced by a stone from the left pocket of my greatcoat, which I replaced by the stone which was in my mouth, as soon as I had finished sucking it. Thus there were still four stones in each of my four pockets, but not quite the same stones. And when the desire to suck took hold of me again, I drew again on the right pocket of my greatcoat, certain of not taking the same stone as the last time. And while I sucked it I rearranged the other stones in the way I have just described. And so on. But this solution did not satisfy me fully. For it did not escape me that, by an extraordinary hazard, the four stones circulating thus might always be the same four. In which case, far from sucking the sixteen stones turn and turn about, I was really only sucking four, always the same, turn and turn about. But I shuffled them well in my pockets, before I began to suck, and again, while I sucked, before transferring them, in the hope of obtaining a more general circulation of the stones from pocket to pocket. But this was only a makeshift that could not long content a man like me. So I began to look for something else. And the first thing that I hit upon was that I might do better to transfer the stones four by four, instead of one by one, that is to say, during the sucking, to take the three stones remaining in the right pocket of my greatcoat and replace them by the four in the right pocket of my trousers, and these by the four in the left pocket of my trousers, and these by the four in the left pocket of my greatcoat, and finally these by the three from the right pocket of my greatcoat, plus the one, as soon as I had finished sucking it, which was in my mouth. Yes, it seemed to me at first that by doing so I would arrive at a better result. But on further reflection I had to change my mind and confess that the circulation of the stones four by four came to exactly the same thing as their circulation one by one. For if I was certain of finding each time, in the right pocket of my greatcoat, four stones totally different from their immediate predecessors, the possibility nevertheless remained of my always chancing on the same stone, within each group of four, and consequently my sucking, not the sixteen turn and turn about as I wished, but in fact four only, always the same, turn and turn about. So I had to seek elsewhere than in the mode of circulation. For no matter how I caused the stones to circulate, I always ran the same risk. It was obvious that by increasing the number of my pockets I was bound to increase my chances of enjoying my stones in the way I planned, that is to say one after another until their number was exhausted. Had I had eight pockets, for example, instead of the four I did have, then evenb the most diabolical hazard could not have prevented me sucking at least eight of my sixteen stones, turn and turn about. The truth is I should have needed sixteen pockets in order to be quite easy in my mind. And for a long time I could see no other conclusion than this, that short of having sixteen pockets, each with its stone, I could never reach the goal I had set myself, short of an extraordinary hazard. And if at a pitch I could double the number of my pockets, were it only by dividing each pocket in two, with the help of a few safety pins let us say, to quadruple them seemed to be more than I could manage. And I did not feel inclined to take all that trouble for a half-measure. For I was beginning to lose all sense of measure, after all this wrestling and wrangling, and to say, All or nothing. And if I was tempted for an instant to establish a more equitable proportion between my stones and my pockets, by reducing the former to the number of the latter, it was only for an istant. For it would have been an admission of defeat. And sitting on the shore, before the sea, the sixteen stones spread out before my eyes, I gazed at them in anger and perplexity." (Molloy, Beckett, 1955) good god, sam, try starting a new paragraph once in a while. ------------ from Monty Python's Meaning of Life Maitre D: And finally, monsieur, a wafer-thin mint. Mr Creosote: No. Maitre D: Oh sir! It's only a tiny little thin one. Mr Creosote: No. Fuck off - I'm full... (Belches) Maitre D: Oh sir... it's only *wafer* thin. Mr Creosote: Look - I couldn't eat another thing. I'm absolutely stuffed. Bugger off. Maitre D: Oh sir, just... just *one*... Mr Creosote: Oh all right. Just one. Maitre D: Just the one, sir... voila... bon appetit...
(Mr Creosote somehow manages to stuff the wafer-thin mint into his mouth and then swallows. The Maitre D takes a flying leap and cowers behind some potted plants. There is an ominous splitting sound. Mr Creosote looks rather helpless and then he explodes, covering waiters, diners, and technicians in a truly horrendous mix of half digested food, entrails and parts of his body. People start vomiting.)Maitre D: (returns to Mr Creosote's table) Thank you, sir, and now the check. ---- I am only here for the food.
OFFICER ALLEN
Will he be okay, Doc?
PSYCHOLOGIST
The years in spent isolation have not equipped
him with the tools necessary to judge right
from wrong. He's had no context. He's been
completely without guidance. Furthermore his
work, the garden sculptures, hair styles, and
so forth. Indicate that he's a highly
imaginative...
OFFICER ALLEN
Character.
PSYCHOLOGIST
It seems clear that his awareness of what we
call reality is radically underdeveloped.
OFFICER ALLEN
But will he be all right out there?
PSYCHOLOGIST
Oh, yeah. He'll be fine.
p.s. i have decided to start mailing random things to random people. if you'd like to be a random person, drop me a line. I might randomly choose you.
so get out/don't just sit there and decompose/go throw on some summer clothes/it's a beautiful day outside/life's passing you by/and there's no way of knowing/no way to know/know/how long it will last
i'm so lonely i could scream
I'm so bored i could rip out my eyesahhhh, look at all the lonely people...
If I get drunk well, I'll pass out happiness can be found in three simple words. lower your standards.
------------
An incredible loneliness has settled inside me.
I've never felt anything like this before.
We've all experienced a cold wind now and then
but once or twice in your life you may have known a
wind over seventy below. It cuts right through you.
Your clothes feel like they were made of tissue, your
lips cracking, eyes tearing, lashes instantly
freezing-pay no mind to the salt. You know you have
to get out of there fast, get inside, or there's no
question, you will not last.
But where do I go for shelter? What
internationally recognized haven exists for this kind
of emptiness? Where is that Youth Hostel? On what
street?
Not here. That's for sure.
Maybe I should just drain a glass, load a bong,
shake hands with the unemployed. Who am I kidding?
No place can keep me from this. Can't even keep you.
And so I sit with myself just listening,
listening to the creaking floor boards, the hammering
water pipes, and masked in each breath, syncopated to
every heartbeat, the shudders of time itself, there
all along to accompany my fellow residents as they
continue to yell, fight and of course scream. I'm
surrounded.
- Mark Danielewski, House of Leaves.
happy?
Sit around and watch the tube but, nothings on Change the channels for an hour of two Twiddle my thumbs just for a bit I'm sick of all the same old shit In a house with unlocked doors And I'm fucking lazy Bite my lip and close my eyes Take me away to paradise I'm so damn bored I'm going BLIND!!! And I smell like shit Peel me off this velcro seat and get me moving I sure as hell can't do it by myself I'm feeling like a DOG IN HEAT Barred indoors from the summer street I locked the door to MY OWN CELL And I lost the key I GOT NO MOTIVATION WHERE IS MY MOTIVATION NO TIME FOR INSPIRATION Sit around and watch the phone, but no one's calling Call me pathetic, call me WHAT YOU WILL My mother says to get a job But she don't like the one SHE'S got When masturbation's lost its fun You're fucking breaking Bite my lip and close my eyes Take me away to paradise I'm so damn BORED I'm going blind And loneliness has to suffice Bite my lip and close my eyes Slipping away to paradise Some say, "Quit or I'll go BLIND." But it's just a myth ---
i am a textbook scorpio. i'm yawning like a kid in a carpet store too bad dark languages rarely survive
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