In her eye

"I AM GOING TO PUNCH THAT BITCH IN HER FUCKING EYE!"

she said. i never use condoms. i have A bunch of them. lady ....dogs dont get fed ppl food. even dogs like emma. he Hates dogs like emma, but would never wish any human food upon their bellies. do i want another beer...sure. its craCKED open. its small in comparison to the other beers ive been drinking this week. what? i have the words "wo" on my hand. they were purposely engraved on to the back of my hand b/c i needed to be reminded of something...i fucking dont remember. unfortunately ill have to blame it on my reckless behavior. im afraid ive been using just too many drugs. its probably the main reason why matthew finds me most disagreeable...disagreeable....quite a dostoveysky term...dont be so impressed..even "simpletons" like marylin monroe knew of well written novels...she memorized shakespeare.

I like the name

Fern

Alcohol:

It's like suicide, except you get to live.

Lucid Dream #2

Before lucidity, I had some tripped-out dreams. Loading a suburban poorly. Having to go to grandma’s house. Refusing. My uncle taking over the driving chore. My sister pointing out my underwear, and the way I picked at it. After that there was some weird stunt man dream, Hanging out in an apartment. Some girl getting crushed. That’s what started the lucidity. It seemed to odd to be hanging out with stunt men, watching a girl get crushed. Oh yes, and I remember reading the paper, and it having video in it somehow. It was Hillary Clinton in an orgy. Good news for G.W.

Lucidity began as I was approaching the steps of an apartment building. I was following a number of young people like myself. I forget what the groups original intention was, but I quickly changed it to sex after seeing some of the young ladies. We sat down in against the wall in a medium sized room equipped with pillows. Group sex. Wherever there was a sexual organ, somebody found his or her way to it. A girl who was getting fucked was sucking me off. A girl with glistening ebony skin was lying next to me, so I fingered her pussy. We casually discussed how incredibly tight it was. In order to retain lucidity, I would occasionally mind my breath as in meditation. At some point, the orgy was over. People started getting up and leaving the room, and I followed them. There was an attractive young lady in the room next to me. We were alone and she gave herself to me, but I was impotent and that upset her. Some man came in and pinched me in the back,

“Get out of here, Music Man! You are in the wrong place!”

I faced him. He had the glowing aura of a god, and the impish smile of a friend of mine from high school. I knew he was right. He was giving me instructions on how I should use this power over lucidity. He told me I was not yet at their level to fully participate. Though I agreed, my libido pleaded with him, “Can’t everybody partake in this activity?”

“Yes,” he said, again with that same smile. “But you are not at our level yet, though your appetite is growing.”

I accepted his position and headed out the door. I hesitated a moment at seeing all the beautiful women on the balcony, but thought better. I took a running start and leapt into the air towards some massive purple trees. The sun had just set, and the sky was dark. I took a deep breath to maintain my lucidity, and then intentionally let it fade. I woke up.

I was hanging out on a military base today. In a military hospital. In the waiting room. Don't ask me why. I was reading Journey to the End of the Night.

Coicidence?

- - -

I overheard some guy wearing camouflage talking to his superior on the phone.

"No, not yet, were still waiting for a urinalysis."

"Yeah, he's off suicide watch right now."

"Well uh, he's just . . . he's in a bad place, you know what I mean."

"Well, he goes back to post, under observation . . . you know, just give him a call every day, check in."

- - -

Fox News was babbling on the waiting room television. The anchor was talking about how there's an unusually high number of tornadoes in Iowa so far this year. He seems pretty upset about it. The weather girl totally agreed with him. "There's an annual average of 1200 spotted, and this year we're already at 400."

This is April.

- - -

On military bases, the houses have the name and rank of the occupant displayed prominently on a piece of blue plastic.

This is a journal entry

Today I meditated for one hundred and eight breaths.

Then I waited for my neighbor to leave.

Then I worked on the same song I've been working on the same song I've been working on for nearly a year.

Two thoughts have been dominating my mind for the past week.

1) Daniel Johnston and his art

2) A horoscope which reads as follows:

"I had a dream about my three closest Leo friends. In the dream, I was observing them as they wriggled out of cocoons that were hanging from a large tree that resembled a dinosaur skeleton. They were covered with feathers and their arms had turned into wings, though they still had human faces. Once they were free of the cocoons, they soared away. As I watched their ascent, my own arms began to transform into feathered wings. I felt that I, too, would soon be able to fly. Here's how I interpret the dream: You Leos are ready to take off, and your flights will serve as inspiring examples to other people."

Interestingly enough, I don't remember this exact text at all. I just remembered a basic message, which I now see to not be there. "Don't do anything. It will all work out fine."

I am a terrorist

I watched Fairenheit 9/11 last Saturday. Fuck that movie. It depressed the hell out of me. I hate George Bush's face and I hate those fucking towers in New York that aren't there anymore. I don't care about global consiracies and I don't care about the stupid games that rich people play.

Curiosity killed the cat and it killed my stupid soul.

I watched The Devil and Daniel Johnston a few days before that. It left me floating. On a cloud. Nothing could bring me down. The world was new.

So I thought...and now I'm doing the best I can to dig up out of it.

Things are going okay, really. Michael Moore, I loved Bowling for Columbine, Roger and Me, and all your tv stuff. But man...fuck you.

I just ate a "Cup o' Noodles."

I am officially poor.

Man, that stuff is fucking terrible.

I would rather be hungry.

If anyone in the Los Angeles area wants three "Cup o' Noodles"...

Come and get them.