Tuesday, December 11, 2007


Is there a reason I must maintain this blog? Is there a point to all this nonsense? Why, no... of course not... hence the name. Duh. But it doesn't matter. I will pick my nose, take my meds and ground myself for not doing my household chores. I will slap my tits, study the actions of depraved minds, and dream of a better future. Because when a spider bite gets you high, anything can happen.

Monday, October 01, 2007

Don't Verb the Noun: Randomly Generated Nonsense

Don't Try the Prayer
The sandal ran ecstatically down the habitat
It thought,
joked and escaped glumly
like the marriage of oil
or an ape that slaps foreplay
And upon that eerily slow sandal
its metabolism sprung and prayed to an olive
The olive pitched somberly and mildly
purchasing dreadful queefs and butchers
leaping towards the sandal's remote control epilepsy
while the habitat rang it's tractor... shouting
"Don't try the prayer!"

Don't Try the Hesitation
The color moved seldomly from within the lime
It urinated, fidgeted and hammered eerily
like a paperboy on the farm
or a triplet that thinks about habits
And upon that ecstatically violet color
Heaven traced and poked at a sphere
The sphere ate mildly but ferociously
Judging hot kimchee and holes
running with the color's torrential quirks
while the lime wanted it's candy... shouting
"Don't try the hesitation!"

Don't Kick the Scarf
The fish slept gleefully with the jukebox
It fidgeted, wobbled and unfolded glumly
like the disease of a knee
or an iguana that digests lepers
And near that artistically naughty fish
a pacifier masturbated to and vomited on a wish
The wish thought gladly but testily
paving the naked bells of Greece
yelling like the fish's rabid mailman
while the jukebox wanted it's usher... shouting
"Don't kick the scarf!"

Wednesday, August 15, 2007


I don't wanna.
Don't wanna what?
Don't wanna.
Ok... but... what?
You know.
Ummm... no... no, I don't.
Yes... Sapporo.
Ummm... I still don't get it.
Why do you keep repeating me?
I'm sorry... I just don't understand you.
Well put some tinfoil on your head.
What on earth would I do with tinfoil on my head?
Dunno... was just a thought. Don't shoot the messenger.
The messenger? That was a message from... whom?
You're repeating me again, and yes... God.
So you're a prophet now?
Always have been.
News to me.
You haven't been paying attention. Stop repeating me and start paying attention.

Friday, October 06, 2006


Do you remember that day? How we ran through the grass like wild jack-rabbits. How we chased butterflies that flew above our heads and toads that hopped past our feet. How we ran deep into the woods and hid behind trees when we heard Mother call us home for supper. I cannot forget the beauty of the sunset that evening. The yellows blending into oranges blending into reds blending into pinks blending into purples blending into a dismal dark grey which would remain once the rest of the sky had turned to a star-studded black. Do you remember how we named our own constellations? How, as we trudged our way back home, we argued over the possession of far away stellar bodies. How we talked of planets we would travel to which would bear our own names. How when we arrived at our door Mother looked at us with eyes filled first with worry... then with relief... then with anger. How she told us in her ironically stern yet tender voice that we'd missed supper and would have to go straight to bed. How we did just as we were told and how we fell fast asleep the second our heads hit the pillow. How empty our stomachs felt when we awoke in the morning. How the hunger pangs nagged at our insides. How that was the best breakfast we'd ever had.

Saturday, September 30, 2006

Flowers and Demons

Yeah, I dunno what it's really all about. Nor am I sure that I care. One thing remains true to this day -- sleep is a necessity for all of mankind. And animals, for that matter. Do plants sleep? Have you ever wondered this? Eh... who cares... I need to sleep. It's late, and my eyeballs are turning grey.
5 packs of bubble gum laying helplessly on my desk. Crying for attention, as the heater pounds loudly. My brain swells. I am not a fry daddy. Nor a Foreman Grill. I'm just a Pooge.

Saturday, September 16, 2006


To some, my purpose may be unclear. To others, they believe they know what they do not. Brain blizzard. Mental mansoon. Head hurricane. Thought thunder. Cranial... crap! It's not to be understood. It is the ignition of my enigmatic engine.

That said, let's talk now about the "infidel" leader and the followers of the "false prophet". Why quote a 14th Century emperor? Wrong choice. Right intention. The proof is in the pudding. Apologies are patronizing and hypocritical unless heartfelt. Don't demand. Educate. Don't get mad. Get Glad. Throw your anger in the bin.
Moot point. One's whole purpose is blasphemous to the other. Respect the followers, not the faith, or we risk trivializing our own. Again, patronizing and hypocritical.
Ignore the ignorance. Ignore the words. Ignore the past. Heed the message and change the course of our future.

Will I ever remove myself from this puddle of doom? Damn cigarettes. Damn laziness. Damn time. Damn depression. Damn death. In this marathon, I am the straggler. I stop and count the roses. I masturbate in the beauty of nature. I smoke. I'm too far behind. Must I go on? Is there another path I can take? I will never catch up. So I masturbate once more. And I smoke.
My hair is greasy and matted. My clothes unchanged for days. If I were my cat, I'd kick me out. I must be a friend to myself. Time is my enemy.

Withdraw your compass. Fasten your seat belts. Breath in deeply. Understand nothing.

Saturday, September 02, 2006


I am not an Anglican! For is it not the right of all fellow citizens to declare ludicrosity upon arrival? For withering and floundering prevails in the halls and the back rooms of every major university. Stench follows. The grumbling will never cease. Maya dances through it all... mind vacant... face blank. Her hope and zest for life ran off with the spoon. But still she prevails as part of the great machine.

Dimes follow her to the right wing. Pennies fall to the floor. Happiness eludes all whom dare ask the questions... seeking the answers we all secretly crave. Hemp plants grow wild as such mentality continues. But we submerse our thoughts in cultural remedies. We lock ourselves inside our fears and wait for the doom which prevails. Nothing has changed.