Hydrants brew

Pace is not a factor for the race I'm in.

Place is not a matter in the face that I have worn thin.

I have felt unhealthy in my own healthiness,

But I am wealthy in my unwealthiness,

I lost myself somewhere early in 2010,

And I have become exactly what I always should've been.

There is no separation where I end, and this new band begins.

Every idea, utterance, melody, and ability is stirred into a fine Hydrants brew,

We are now a family where no one is blood-related,

But nobody has to feel degrated,

This is spiritual sex at it's best,

because at this point fuck the usual routine, I hate it,

And every member has been socially degenerated.

And with all the time I put in,

As it gets earlier every time we begin,

This is a drug that I've found to be most delicious,

And we're so damn cultured I don't know how else to say it,

But it's a beautiful thing I hope they'll let us play it.

I lost myself somewhere in early 2010,

And since I came here I've been exactly where I should've been.

bland

Everything is running together

And the good parts melt into bad parts

The days run into nights into mornings and

I can't keep track of which is which anymore.

And although this is what you all call a "regular life"

Or a "sane life"

This is not the life I used to live.

And this is not the life I want,

And this does not feel sane to me.

There are so many paths I could take,

But...

But I am stuck,

I can't find these other paths,

It doesn't make sense to all of you,

But I cant go the way you all go about these things.

And I fear I can't find you all,

On the path I should be on.

There are so many possibilities,

But there is no other ending.

you should never sleep

Hi, My name is Matt, and I'm an alcoholic.

As long as we're all getting acquainted here allow me to pour myself a drink, I feel I'm more sociable when I've been drinking.

a bitter sense of something

Why should I stop drinkin if it makes me feel so good?

You're always telling me what I "should not", but never what I "should."

Let me tell you something that I think you should know,

The closer you get, the further back I want to go.

Keep your distance if you want to keep me comin'

There's something that I see in your soul, that sends me runnin.'

So tell me

Whats fair, whats right, whats wrong

Just go.

From the look on your face, it seems like you think you know.

All you people make me sick, with what you have become.

The double-crossing and the lies, all the whores and the scum.

I will sit here with violent eyes, searing into your present and past.

You got no future, your fairy tale will never last.

Prince charming has a bloodshot lazy eye,

And his gal's got a tattoo that says "serenity" on her thigh.

Couldn't plan it better if we tried,

While I'm left here alone to die.

its not like you killed someone

He was so peaceful and silent, sitting there at the computer as I crept up behind him. He thought he was alone. He had no idea I was there. But more than that, he felt alone. I could tell, I know the feeling all too well. It was too perfect. Too easy.

I felt the urge to cry. I didn't have any actual tears. But that feeling in your stomach where for a split second you just want to break down and let everything that you've been keeping so far away from your thoughts consume your entire being. But I composed myself.

He was looking at pictures. Pictures of people. Happy people. I knew what he was thinking. I knew. He was wishing he could have that. Happiness, and friends. Just someone, anyone, to connect with and share joy with. Share life with. I could be his friend. In another time, another life. If he turned around, I bet he wouldn't even question how I got into the house. He'd just welcome the company.

And I would be his friend. I wish I could.

But I have to do, what I have to do, to keep living like this. And I hate myself, but at this point, there's nothing I can do.

So I walked closer, slowly, silently. Took my pistol and placed the barrel to the back of his head. Before he could even react I pulled the trigger.

New Years Resolutions

*- stop drinking so much every goddamn day and quit killin' my body with alcohol
- actually clean up my apartment because it looks like death
- clean out my car and KEEP it clean
*- start working out every day again
*- find a nice cool laid-back gal
*- find a practice studio, and make my own cd
- get shit together with my other band and start playing gigs and recording again
- start going to therapy again
- be more positive
*- hangout with my cousins more
*- be able to wear short-sleeve shirts again
*- keep a balanced diet
- stop being so anti-social
- be with my friends more
*- play allll of my instruments moreee
- jam with other people more
- go out and play a bunch of places
- learn more about music therapy
- get experience doing music therapy
- get some writing published
- don't do any drugs at all
- sleep a little more regularly
- go to the gym
- take at least one vocal lesson
- stay on top of my schoolwork more and not procrastinate!

I sure hope this thing wasn't graded yet

Everybody just leave me alone
I got a new best friend with a microphone,
He’s got big ol’ ears and a big red nose,
And when he speaks out loud everybody knows.

He may be a problem child,
But he’s around again and he’s here to get wild,
He’ll shove his fist right down your soul,
And where God used to be now there’s a hole.

He ain’t one for the Holy book,
He’s got a mess of cronies and they’re all crooks,
But when you’re in with them you got no fear,
And he leans over and whispers in your ear,

“Here’s what you gotta do, kid,
They all want what their gonna get,
So just strike before they have a chance
To think about what their gonna to you.

‘Cause there are no innocents in this world
None that have ever came my way.
‘Cause when you come face to face with my grace
I grab your heart and your soul, and now I’m in control.”

yeah it happens

When you wear nice shirts
And glasses
People listen
And what you say sounds smart.
They are all good ideas,
And you're always right.

When you have piercings
And tattoos
Everything you say has a fucking attitude
And you're looking for a problem,
And you're lookin' for something to steal,
And you are an asshole
Who is trying to be tough.

When your eyes are all watery and bloodshot,
You're useless,
You are a joke,
You have no reason to be here.
Stop talking.

When you talk slowly,
You're not smart.
People laugh.
You're not paying attention.
You're retarded.

When you are quiet.
Something is wrong.
What is the matter?
You're hiding something.

When you are different.
You're interesting.
People want to talk to you about dumb shit.

When you are tired.
You don't want to continue thinking of things to write.

No breaks, No vacations

Doing drugs is a full-time occupation,
No time for breaks,
No time for vacations.
No time for friends,
No time for family,
No time for food,
Sometimes I gotta work but not hard, not well.
Not now, not when I wanna.
Gotta walk pretty far
When you don't have a car,
'Cause that spic doesn't give a fuck
About my time or my mission.
Gotta stay up late watching the doorknob,
Listening for footsteps,
Because somebody knows,
How would they not?
Get up do a line sit down.
And that's it.
Watch some South Park.
Eh, just another line.
That's fine.
End up doing almost the whole bag.
Just enough left for when I wake up I have a little bit to get me goin'
To get me goin' to get some more.
Like its scripted.
Same shit every day.
No breaks, no vacations.

that upbeat swing type futuristic motion

The monsters are awakened
Evil takes its toll,
I promise I will never make
A promise I can’t hold.
They come when you’re in darkness,
They come so late at night,
I promise if you still love me
I’ll always bring the light.
Nightmares are approaching,
Dreaming of the past,
I will erase such horrid memories,
And make pleasantries that last.

Oh, how I want you to know,
I may have lost my mind,
But at the very same time,
I found my favorite crime.

Billy

Billy’s sailing to the moon on a spaceship made of graham crackers,
I said, Billy’s sailing to the moon on a spaceship made of graham crackers,
And when he gets there the world is gonna shake his hand
And when he comes back a song will be playin’ his band,
When the good times flow the moon will glow,
And when the bad times come everybody gotta go,
Billy’s sailing to the moon on a spaceship made of graham crackers.
I said, Billy’s sailing to the moon on a spaceship made of graham crackers,
And they televised the landing
It was a great economic standing,
But when he came back they forgot of his courageous feat
And he got no love from the people that he’d meet,
Billy went to the moon on a spaceship made of graham crackers,
Yeah, billy went to the moon on a spaceship made of graham crackers,
But when he came back, man, things had changed,
Every body just seemed so deranged,
Didn’t think he had a place to go,
Then he realized there was one place he’d know,
So Billy sailed back to the moon on a spaceship made of graham crackers,
Billy went to the moon on a spaceship made of graham crackers,
And when he landed he tore up the recipe,
And he ate every cracker that he could see,
And he found a moonlady he could marry,
And then they decided to start a family,
And Nobody from the shitty planet earth saw Billy ever again.

The Amazing Cashew-Eating Boy

Come one, come all! Step right up to the center stage, right here in the living room of this shitty basement apartment! Come on and see the man who eats cashews! He sits on his ass all day on this very couch, known to eat 2 whole pounds of cashews in one sitting! Read the label on that big container folks, I’m not kidding! He’s gotta go to class? Don’t matter! He will finish that container before he gets up. Drunk or sober, don’t matter to him. Eats like an expert! Tunes everything out I tell ya. Couldn’t learn such a talent, yer born with it I say! Even the strongest of men, the biggest of beasts, have attempted the feats set by the Mellow Man over here, and what became of them all? Failures, I tell you! Many had to get their stomachs pumped. Some puked up their guts all over themselves. Others keeled over right then and there. In any matter, you are looking at the champion, the only, the one-of-a-kind sensation, you love him because you know you could never be him! This fella’s got protein running through his veins by now! And he shows no signs of slowing! No flash photography, folks!

reach out

Nobody feels this way. Nobody understands. Nobody’s been through what I’ve been through. Nobody else has to put up with this bullshit. Nobody gets this sad. Nobody gets so angry at nothing. Nobody else cries over this shit. Nobody else feels all alone. Nobody else wonders ‘what’s the point of all this?’ like I do. Nobody else wants to end it all sometimes. Nobody else freaks out like I do. Nobody else is this crazy.

And yet we are all alone together.

Reach out to somebody, anybody.

Whores (Sign of the Times)

*inspired by "Art (Sign of the Times)" by Joe Camoli*

I once saw a gal,
With pale white skin,
And big baggy blue eyes.
And she talked at me.
And she flirted with me.
She told me she liked my eyebrow ring,
and my tattoo. She conversed about
how school's a drag apparently,
and teachers who 'suck'. She told me all about
how she's from ireland, and she'd move back there in time.
I looked at her and her 'halogen bulbs'. I stood there starin' at her,
This hot chick with pale skin and big baggy blue eyes.
I poked her arm,
noticed the smoothness of her skin.
I just stood there, thinkin' what to do.
I asked her where the bathroom was,
Slowly, she walked down the short little hall,
and I followed her.
She followed me into the bathroom and blew me.
Then I went out into the backyard and had a cigarette and another beer with my friend Chris.

The only reason I'd go to dizzy's is to kidnap verne troyer..

I’m afraid that if I like you too much, and I fully give in to how I feel about you you’ll take it all and throw it all away. That one night you’ll say ‘fuck it’ and just hook up with some random asshole for no good reason. And where will that leave me? A wreck. So why would I want to get fully attached to anybody? It’s happened to me before. Not to say you’re like that. Because most of the time in my head I know you’re not. But all the girls I’ve found always bad fucking news. Usually they don’t give a shit about anything but themselves, and their hips are hungry for dick and attention.

People are terrible. Women are whores, and guys are fucking cavemen. They all make me sick. Going to dirty clubs and drinking underage thinking it makes them seem mature. Slutty girls dressed like whores grinding up on some tan guido fuckface’s cock. No thanks, not my scene. There’s always a couple 40 year old dudes there trying to get laid, too, offering girls money and drinks to get on their cock. So why go to a place like that? You’re better than that. Most of the people there are not, which is why those places are invented I guess. But fuck it pisses me off to think of you going there. But then again I don’t know what goes on there. Maybe you’re just not as much of a recluse as I am and you haven’t lost your faith in people yet.

Ladyfinger

Did I ever tell you bout that girl with the nice fingers?
Yeah I fucked her.
Only for about a minute though.
She didn’t enjoy it,
I didn’t really either.
But I did it.
I finished too.
Yeah she never called me again.
Fine with me I don’t give a fuck.
I never said I was any good at fucking.
Well okay I did tell her that.
Which is probably why she looked at me in horror when I told her I had came already that quickly.
Then she stormed out, breaking a bunch of shit on her way to the door.
And it was her fuckin’ house!
That’s the weird thing.
Well I don’t care.
I took a nap right there.
When I awoke, there was a huge man standing over me.
Finger-girl was screaming that I was her abusive ex-boyfriend,
And that I refused to leave.
I didn’t really know what the fuck to say.
But this guy picked me up and literally carried me outside.
He then beat my face in with my own fist.
Smacked my mouth against the curb,
Then left me out there to die.
But I probably got that guy laid.
And Ladyfinger over there laid again, as well.
So like I said I don’t give a fuck,
Everybody’s got their own place in the universe.
Just gotta accept it.
‘Least I got laid.
(takes a sip of beer)

8 word poem

This poem is going to be eightwordsnomatterwhatyousayidontcareevenifyousayitsnotapoemidontfuckingcarehowamigonnafitonthepageyoumightaskwellidontknowiguessimgonnahavetogetcreativebutyouneverdoneanythingremotelylikethissoshutyourfuckin mouth.

(From the Point of View of a) Liar

You look vulnerable,
Like somebody I could fuck up for a few years,
And use and abuse like a fucking condom because that’s pretty much all you are to me.
And I won’t even do much,
I won’t really make you feel special,
Anything good I do is fabricated in your mind,
By your wishful thinking.
And you will pretend that I’m something good for you,
Even when you realize that I’m a complete asshole and I treat you like shit.
I’ll fuck other girls, and you’ll figure it out,
But I’ll still deny it, while being caught red-handed,
And you’ll take me back,
Even though I don’t care If you do or don’t,
Because I’m useless.
But I will make you feel like the useless one,
I’ll fuck with your head,
I’ll tell you you look like a whore,
And slap you around,
And you’ll take it.
Cause I don’t want you to have a self-esteem,
Or goals,
Or friends,
Or happiness.
And yet you will wait for me to change
Which will never happen,
And you will love me
More than someone who is nice to you from day one.

Watch Me Walk Away

Watch me walk away from this bullshit you call a necessity,
Watch me walk away from this pointless argument,
Watch me walk away from these lies,
Watch me walk away from that evil look in your eyes,

I can’t stand the sight of you anymore,
It makes my skin crawl,
Anxiety returns to my mind
Every time you call.
You ask me how I’m doing,
“How’s school?”
I don’t fall for the trap,
I’m no longer your fool.
Your sole purpose in this life
Is to stur up shit,
Well I’m done,
Move on, I’m sick of it.
If you are so goddamn perfect and classy as you say you are,
Get out of my fuckin’ life,
I’m a scumbag liar in your own words,
There are some things I just can’t comprehend nowadays I suppose,
And at this point I won’t even try.
Because there’s no reasoning with an insane person,
I would know.

Watch me walk away from those used up hips
Watch me walk away from those dirty lips,
Watch me walk away for the last time,
Watch me walk away if you want to pretend to cry again.

the whole death thing

I ain't gots no problems wit dem peoples doin' what theys doin'
I mean like personally i hopes the whole death thing doesnt happen to me
I feels like i could be livin forevuh
I means like I be eatin fruits and mangoes and chickens and eggies
And likes even though I be drinkin everyday
And be gettin into car accidints
Locked outta my apartmint
And be havin mad problems wit dee famlee
And my girl like i never be s-seein her so much
Like I is A-okay you know,
Well i means like i aint quite A-okay,
Maybe like Bminus-okay.
But i means like thats still pretty good you know.

I Hope they Serve Bananas in Heaven

Oh how I wonder if they serve yellow bananas in heaven
At Best Yet they got green bananas,
At PathMark they have dirty lookin’ bananas,
And at Stop & Shop they have black bananas that are past their prime
.......................And will never be yellow again.
All I want are some yellow bananas,
To eat when I wake up.
Because potassium can do you some damn fine good to start your day with it.
And I’m a healthy young fella.
Just tryin to do betta.
Cuz I wana do alright in my days.
But I guess by the time I die,
Potassium wont be doin me much good.
But I mean I like bananas for more than their potassium,
There they are all fresh tasting and revitalizing and such.
But man is good stuff.
I could eat em everyday if I could find me some good ones.

holy schmoley

I walked-eth through the parketh this morning.
Looked around, left to right, side to side, as I walked.
Left foot, right foot, how do my foots step in such perfect time?
Practice my good fellow, I’ve been walking for quite a few years now, I know what I am doing.
.
I saw-eth a child. He satteth on the ground-eth, playing with some blocks.
What a creative child, I thought-eth to myself-eth.
Of course not as creative and ingenious as me though, I chuckled to myself. As if there are many out there who could achieve such a feat!
.
Ahhh, but I digress, I do. Not unlike me to interject my own fabulous story with a hilarious joke of such proportions.
Coming back to my own point, I sat down on a bench near-eth the child, crossing my legs and opening up my newspaper (which I was going to read). He seemed to be of Haitian decent.
.
“Beautiful day good sir, wouldn’t you agree-eth?” I said, rather daring of me to speak to such an exotic fellow.
He looked up at me with an inquisitive look on his face. I could tell right then and there he was a little slow, as many of them are. But he looked like he could be quite the scholar, given the right assistance from a genius such as I. Ho Ho! Well I guess anyone could do quite well for themselves if tutored by a man of my ability.
.
“You know, young fellow,” I said. Slowly, so he could understand and comprehend what I was saying. “You could be the next Obama, if you really put your mind to it and exerted yourself.” I was trying to inspire him, as sometimes people can’t think so highly unless I point out the possibilities to them.
“Who’s Obama?” He said.
.
I was shocked for a good couple minutes I’d say. How does he not know who his president is? Does he not care?! Or is he deprived of this knowledge?! I iwlll tell you this is not what I vote for, this is not why I pay my taxes. No, I say! Nay, Negative,… No!
.
NO I sayeth to the machine-eth. For I have a plan. Well I do not, per se, have a plan at the moment. But I went home after this occurrence and I thought and I thought and I thought and I thought about the state that we as a country are in and our falling deep into problematic situations and then after I thought I wrote this out. And I hope-eth it made a difference-eth.

!

WOMAN: Honey, are you feeling alright? You’ve been acting.. strange.

.

MAN: Well now that you mention it, there is.. something….

.

WOMAN: What’s the matter my dear?

.

MAN turns away

MAN: You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, let’s just forget it.
.

WOMAN: Baby you can tell me anything, I wouldn’t judge you or think differently of you, I swear.

.

MAN: Alright well, it’s just that things seem different lately. I feel different.

.

WOMAN: How ever do you mean?
.

MAN: Well about the past couple of weeks I’ve been feeling... Oh god, this is so hard for me to say. I feel like a dot.

.

WOMAN: Oh Jesus Christ, really?
.

MAN: Yes all the time I do, and never knew how to tell anyone.

.

WOMAN: Oh Lord, you shouldn’t hold a feeling such as that inside, love. I’m all ears, tell me about how you’re feeling.
.

MAN: Alright. Well, you know how a lot of times everyone just acts like a bunch of words and they’re all arranged so perfectly there in a sentence, well I feel like I just belong at the end…

.

WOMAN: Oh my god, what made this horrible feeling come upon you? Did something happen? Did someone throw mean words at you, perhaps? Use up all the words and leave you with punctuations?
.

MAN: No no, not exactly. I just feel like I don’t fit in with words anymore. Like I need to be separated and isolated away from them at the end all by myself. I’m not like them, sweetheart. It is as if I serve a different purpose. And there’s a few like me I’ve heard. Like commas, but I’m never anywhere near them, I wouldn’t know.

.

WOMAN: Well this is a shock. But we’ll get through this. It’s fine.
Can I tell you something, though?
.

MAN: Of course. Anything at all, dear.

.

WOMAN: I’ve always wanted to be an exclamation point! To have that kind of power over the emotion of a statement would be so exciting!
.

MAN: Really? Do you mean that?

.

WOMAN: Yes, I do. I just never really thought much of it till now.
.

MAN: Oh. Well.. I guess it’s not so far off, from how I’ve been feeling..

.

WOMAN: No! Don’t you understand? We can do it together!
.

She hops onto MAN’s shoulders.

.

MAN: You’re right! Now we can be happy! And be an exclamation point! And spread emotion and excitement in both our lives, and even the rest of the world!

.

WOMAN: Oh happy day! I am so excited! I love you, darling!
.

MAN: I love you too! Let’s go live our new wonderful life together!

.

MAN, with WOMAN on his shoulders, runs out of the house and down the road, off into the distance.
And they never returned to that house again.

Antonio Carlos Jobim

Dat baby ain’t gonna make
................Itself stop cryin’,
Better get them forks and knives out
................................Boy,
And take her outta de oven.

I put it right dere on da table,
...............And you aint even touched it or nothin’,
You better chow down boy!
How you expect, to stay young and trim like me,
................If you don’t eat yo baybees.

It don’t matter where it came from,
................Don’t matter where it was goin’,
A baybee’s a baybee and you gotta eat babies.
................Plain as day.

And don’t ask where I got
................the mothafuckin’ baby!
God damn!
A baby is a baby, and that’s all there is to it.
Tell me what you see when you lookin’ at dat plate.
................A fuckin baby, man.
I don’t get the big commotion,
................Somebody offers me a free baby,
................................Which HAS happened,
................I eat that shit right up.

........All I'm sayin' is,
You gotta eat babies, plain and simple.

the boy who took out his eyes

The boy didn’t like what he saw, so he took out his eyes.
It hurt more to keep them in and think about what he was seeing, than it did to take them out of his head.
So he took them out and as he held them both, one in each hand, he smiled and he felt a lot better.
He was happy.
He never had to feel bad again, because you don’t know what you can’t see, and you won’t feel bad about what you don’t know.

papayas=satan

I stopped at my parents house the other night when I got out of work. I was quietly sitting on the computer, as I have no internet where I currently live, when my mom came up to me saying, “You’re into fruits now, right?” Hoping this wasn’t gonna turn into some type of pun I reluctantly confirmed. She came up to me with a tray of orangeish reddish fruit and said enthusiastically, “Do you like mangos?!” I replied with a genuine “Boy Howdy! I certainly do, Ma! Gee Whilickers what a swell idea! Mangos, what a treat!” And I quickly grabbed a slice of what I thought to be a delicious piece of mango, and as I was putting it in my mouth, my mother said, “Oh wait, they might be papayas. Either mangos or papayas.”

Now I don’t know if you, Reader, have ever tasted either mangoes or papayas. But mangos are heavenly. Especially mango juice I highly recommend it. But papayas, no. I had never tried one before this particular instance, and mark my words, I never will again for as long as I live.

The moment it hit my tongue I felt like death was upon me. It tasted like Satan had emerged up from Hell just to take a soft but solid dump directly into my mouth. I never knew a food could alter your mood so much but this one did. It caused me to experience a wave of severe depression. I contemplated suicide. Turned to drugs. Made me start drinkin’ again. It severely lowered my life expectancy. Started spending money on crazy lavish things: boats, goats, gold watches, fancy sunglasses, European sculptures, several televisions, a rollercoaster without the track. I even adopted two small Asian children. I named one of them Jeffrey, the other one Vinny. I loved them as my own. Taught them how to play catch, ride bicycles, talk to women, tie their shoes. Everything a father could pass on to their child. Then one fateful night, I was out in one of the Koreas on a business trip. (I left the boys with my brother, as mine and my mother’s relationship had been strained ever since the incident). I brought back three ladyboys to my hotel room that night. And don’t get me wrong, all of the love-making was passionate. It was the best goddamn orgy I ever had. Those Korean ladyboys, they sure as hell know how to please a man. However, the whole time, my eyes were locked on one of them. I just couldn’t look away, it would’ve been a sin to ignore such beauty. His/her cute beady little dark eyes. His/her gorgeous dyed-blonde hair. I swore to myself, I would never let him/her go.

So right then and there I said, “Kishwa, will you marry me? I’ll bring you back to the States with me. Start you a new life. I know you done made plenty of wrong turns in your path, but it’s okay now. I don’t need to hear about ‘em. You did what you had to do, and I understand that. But I want to take you away from all this. I’ll treat ya real special-like. Make you the happiest goddamn ladyboy on this earth. Whaddaya say Kishwa?” It looked like she was noddin’ her head yes, although she could’ve just been enjoying the ride. Either way, I packed her up in my suitcase and got the fuck out of Korea, man. Got on the next goddamn flight home.

We arrived back home, picked up the boys, introduced Kishwa to my brother. They had their girl-talk, what have you. I explained to the boys that Kishwa was now #2 in command at the house, but they’re great boys they understood. And things were good. Real good. For at least, 2 weeks. But then, I’ll admit, I had a lot of stress going on at the workplace. I guess it was just too much. I couldn’t handle it. I started smacking Kishwa around. It made me feel like a big man. I do regret putting my hands on Kishwa in that manner. I do. Honest to god. But I never laid a hand on those boys.

Anyway, there were several domestic disturbance calls placed to the police regarding me, made by Kishwa. So there was a court ordered restraining order put in place. And Kishwa got custody of the kids, despite being an illegal immigrant, to my dismay. Because I’ll admit I had several prior convictions, for child molestation, and vandalism, and public beastility. But man it’s bullshit I don’t even get to see my damn kids, I don’t even get weekends with ‘em, Nothin’! And they livin’ in my house! Gets me real steamed up to talk about. And not a day goes by where I don’t think about Kishwa, and that beautiful dyed-blonde hair.

Oh yeah stay away from zucchinis or something like that, I don’t remember where I was going with that.

Self Evaluation

I am not made to be taken seriously. I am not made to be profound or all-knowing.

I fall asleep while I’m driving, several times a week. I drink beer all the fucking time. I listen to ten minute voicemails of a phone that accidently called me from somebody’s bag all the way through. I enjoy making prank phone calls even when no one else finds it funny. I say “nigga” to both my mom and my girlfriend, neither of which are black. I say “nigga” to my black friend Kevin, who IS black. I refer to Kevin as ‘my black friend Kevin.’ I wear sunglasses inside. I say rude things to people. Me and my friend are still kinda banking on being famous. I do not fulfill my potential in anything I do. I say ridiculous things like referring to myself as “King of the Ting.” I try to make people around me feel uncomfortable. I like to speak of nonsensical situations and things, and I hate people who don’t go along with it. I bring up Ladyboys at inappropriate times. I ignore people. I set fires at work. I leave all work to be done to the very last minute. I do not take initiative. I take nothing seriously. I’m a moment away from a nervous breakdown at any given time, which is why I take nothing seriously. And I’m about to get drunk and watch Real Ghetto Fights Caught On Tape 3, the bootleg.

I’m alright with that, fuck it man I don’t care just leave me alone. Its cool.

wednesdays

Drivinggggg on the southern state parkwayyyy,
It's 4:15 PM and the place is packed with caaars of all types,
All sorts of retard drivers, switching between the left and middle lanes,
As if it matters,
The whole place is clogged up anyway it doesnt matter where you're attt.
Been up since seven in the morningggg had class all damn dayyyy
Now I gotta go straight to work maybe I'll be there by fiiiive.
Gonna be there til 1030 maybe elevennnn.
Sooooo tired....
And I'm startingggg to nod offfff.....




HONKKKK!!!
Oh shit!
Wow I fell asleep there for a second damn.
Gotta blast the radio or somethin',
That could be dangerous.
Keep tappin' my kneeees.
Blinking and widening my eyes.
Open the windowwwws.
Maybe that could do ittttt.
Yeah i think its working alreadyyyy.
Yeahhhh I'm gonnna be fiiiiiiiine....



SMASHHH
off road right into a tree.

God damnnn!
I should call for some helppp.
But I'm just soo damnnnn tiredddd.
Maybe I'll just nap hereeee for another minute or two.

what a strange word

words
they're just
words
they're just words
just words
they're
just words there
words
they're just words
words there
they're
there
their words
our words
they're just words
there there
words there
they're just their words
their words there
your words here
they're just your words
your just words
your just their's
there your just
your just words
just your words
you're words
your words there
they're yours
just yours
words
there
yours
you're there
words everywhere
words
just words
it's all
words
your
just words
there are no just words
just is just a word
words
words are not just
they're just words

it's all

just

words.

the things i'll do to avoid looking stupid sometimes

I don't have internet where I live so I wanted to go to the computer lab at school today to check my email and blog and whatnot. I was hungover as all hell and still am, as a matter of fact. But I had two surprisingly decent hours of jazz ensemble then I walked out into the parking lot to put my bass into my car before going up to the computer room.

I never remember where I parked at this school by the time I get out of class so I've gotten pretty used to stumbling around the parking lot pressing my lock and unlock buttons repeatedly, hoping for a faint beep in the distance, looking like a madman to anyone watching. Some people have told me that pressing the panic button would be a good idea, but in a situation like that I feel the best solution is to remain calm and never to panic. As I was performing this ritual, a pretty young girl pulled up next to me, rolled down her her window and asked, "Excuse me are you leaving?" I turned around to her and said, "Yes as a matter of fact I am, I'm just searching for my car." She said she didn't mind waiting. But about 30 seconds after I said that I actually saw my car which was kind of behind where hers was. So she pretty much helped me find my car. What a gal. She backed her car up so I could get to mine, I put the bass in, and I sat down in the driver's seat and started the car. That's when I realized I wasn't even leaving. But rather then get out of the car and crush her hopes and dreams of finding a parking spot, and not to mention to look like a complete jackass, I pulled out, left the parking lot, drove around the block and came back to search for one again. And let me tell you it was pretty damn hard to find one.

As I'm driving back into the parking lot I knew I had to avoid that girl at all costs. So I didn't even look for any near where she was now parked. Which just so happened to be right next to the building where I needed to go to. But I don't think it mattered there were no spots anyway, I had to park pretty far away. Crazy since I just gave one up. Now I just had to hope I didn't run into her. Because well there's things you can say to explain it I guess, but it would just be awkward and stupid lookin'. I got to the computer lab and who is sitting one row ahead and a few computers to the left? That very girl. So I'm here ducking my head and tilting my screen so she hopefully can't see me and now that I am done typing this I am going to make a clean get away to avoid that impending awkward recognition of confusion.

A letter left behind (along with 6 dollars) for housekeeping in a bathroom at the Holiday Inn Express in Nashua

The toilet won't flush,

And I'm in a rush,

Here's some singles,

Stay away from pringles

Getting Gas

I pull up. I'm already all fucked up. My brain's goin' a mile a minute I'm paranoid as shit and I'm not thinking straight at all. I get out, put the debit card in. Takes me 3 tries to get the PIN # right. I wonder if there's a limit to how many tries you can have with that stuff.

I start pumpin' that shit. There's a girl fillin' up her car across from me. She looks so nice.
Like somebody I'd want to know. Not a happy person, but a warm one. There's an old mother fucker right next to me. I had to move to the side and deliberately look around the corner of the pump to see him. We made eye contact. It was pretty awkward, it made me laugh.

A fucking guido cocksucker pulls in, runs into the gas station. Comes out with an Arizona Iced Tea. Raspberry, i think? Raspberry sucks. He's in a real nice lookin' red car. Everyone around was pretty impressed. I could tell.............

Some other guido (just so happens) comes out of the place and is yelling at somebody. Me and Old Guy turn around and look. Now I don't know if this is who he was yelling to or what, because I didn't really give a fuck, But I saw an older looking, crackhead looking black man with a guitar strapped to his back. He was slurring his words, asking everyone for money. Talking to himself too! But since I had just been talking to myself for the past hour and a half, I'm not one to judge.

I looked away, focusing on pumping my gas. Ignoring him completely even though I hear him behind me. I turn around for a second and he's already right up in my fucking face.
"Sir, you got any money? I don't need much." I said nothing for a moment. He went on speaking this story about how a man wouldn't "open the doors for him", What the fuck? I had no idea what he was talking about. But he stood there right next to me and my car, real close. I told him I'd give him all the money in my left pocket. I reached in.
Felt one single bill. 'I hope to god this is not a twenty' I thought to myself. I pulled it out. It was a single. "This is all I got man," I said. He said "alright thats fine" amd took it and walked away.
No 'thank you', fucking ungrateful douchebag, probably deserves to be in whatever situation he's in.
He went into the gas station and was pulling alcohol out of the fridge in the back when I was pulling away.
I went home and got drunk.

the beautiful naivety of an innocent mind

Have you ever seen a bigger giraffe?
This one's neck goes all the way to the tallest branch.
I'd like to ride it, daddy.
But he says I'm not old enough.
When I grow up I'm going to work at the zoo.
And ride the giraffes.

THATS NOT A FUCKIN JOB THAT ANYBODY WILL EVER PAY YOU FOR.

A Moment of Disillusioned Clarity

I wish the parkway was never ending,
And I could drive forever.
Never have to be anywhere,
for anything.
I can drive
and talk to myself
and fade away.
The radio's on.
The music is there
but
it's not in my head,
just ends there at my ears.
All I hear is my own nonsensical
psychobabble
and it is so
comforting.

Chicken and Beer

Chicken and beer,

Chicken and beer,

In my fridge is only chicken and beer,

Lots of chicken, lots of beer.

I eat chicken everyday.

Sometimes I boil up some rice with the chicken,

Or I cut the chicken into little pieces and put it in a wrap,

Sometimes I even make stuffed peppers and put chicken in 'em

But thats when I'm feeling very ambitious.

Chickens so fucking good, goddamn!

Beer,

I drink that shit every day too!

So many kinds I have in that fridge.

Bottles of BudLight Lime for when I'm watching movies.

(And for my fruit nutrition)

Bottles of Heineken when I'm feeling classy,

Or sometimes I drink it out of a mug to be even more important looking,

And cans of Coors Light for when I have people over.

I really like chicken.

And I guess I love beer so much,

That you could call me a beeraholic.....

or something to that effect.

just the right balance of classy and trashy

baby give me that little smoochie-smooch

..........................you know what i wana do to you,

................................i really like the way you sit there

.............................................................and look so cute,

.......................even though you got a little fake attitude,

.......then we do anything

...that we wana do

and we don't sleep all night

........till around 6 am,

..........................................the night started on the couch

..........dont even remember how we got to the bed,

then i wake up

.........................................and the place is a mess,

...............................................there's pillows

..and clothes........

.................................................................and cans

all over,

....................and even when we wake up

...............................................we're not really sober,

and when you open your eyes

...................................................you wana do it again,

..............and the walls are watching

.....................but I'll turn out the lights

....................................and tell 'em all to turn their heads,

.......but there's a free show centerstage in my bed,

........so I wouldn't blame even them to steal a glance or two,


oh,..........all the things.................I still want to do to you,


but your such a busy gal you always gotta go somewhere

.........................so then your off again into the morning air

10th Grade Romance

She wasn't the greatest looking dame around, but she had a certain very distinctive look to her that I found interesting. She seemed pretty innocent at the time. I had spoken to her a few times, seen her around, I was diggin' her and it seemed like she was diggin' me a little too.

She called me. Said she was gonna be in my town tonite at her aunts and that she wanted to see me. I said alright. Me and a couple of my friends were hanging out at this shitty, out-in-the-open parking lot next to a white church. She came there, by herself. She hugged me, asked me why we dont hangout more. After talking for a little bit, and introducing her to my friends, I asked her if she wanted to smoke. She said she had no money. I said it didnt matter. She was quite alright with that. Fucking bitch.

As we were all waiting for the dealer some dog-faced boy pulled into the lot in some fancy nice car. Maybe a camaro, i dont really care for cars so I don't know about them. He looked like a fucking wolf. I knew who he was, he had graduated from my high school, and I even worked with him at a grimy disgusting Honey Baked Ham for about a week. He was a tool. He looked like a wolfman walking up on two legs. Such an awkward fuck.

Anyway he pulled in and got out and lit up a cigarette. This girl fucking ran up and hugged him. They were standing there talking for a little. Then she turned around to me and said "uhh im gonna go drive around with scott for a little bit.." and got in his car and drove away. They were gone for what felt like hours. It probably was, we were waiting for the pot for a real long time and then by the time i was just finished rolling the blunt she pulled up.

By now I was sitting behind the church, she came up towards me and was talking to me through the fence. "I'm getting picked up by my mom now I'm going home" "uhhh okay bye"
she looked a little distraught for some reason, even though I was the one who was pretty pissed.
"your not even gonna come around and say goodbye?" "mmm no I think I'm alright" She left in a big huff and didnt speak to me til about a year later. And all I did was get really stoned and I dont remember anything else afterwards.

Thats about the closest I had to having a 10th grade summer romance. And she probably got banged out in the back of a camaro by some hairy dude.

medication for the used-up bruised-up brain

I live in a cave,
No light no windows no air,
Nothing works,
Nothing in the place,
Nothing in my body,
Nothing in my brain,
Nothing in my life,
Everythings broken,
Everythings a bother,
Everything is stupid,
Everything makes me angry,
So i could give a fuck, friends,
Stay away from me,
Because I'll hurt you,
Even when you think you know me,
And I'm trying to be a good guy,
Thats when I'll leave,
because I have been desensitized,
I don't feel anymore,
I don't get sad,
I don't feel guilty,
I don't feel shame,
I don't feel happy, the best I do is to not feel like destroying something or someone,
I am not a human being,
I have become an animal,
Not even an animal,
I'm a cloud,
A zombie,
Drifting through time and space,
Just trying to make it through each and every day,
For reasons I dont understand,
Reasons I barely believe anymore,
Reasons that don't convince me anymore,
Reasons that just make me angrier to think about them,
So I sit alone with me and my hazy reasons,
My dreary hazy thoughts,
Now getting twisted and changed around and beaten down by my own
used-up bruised-up brain,
I sit and stare at them,
And they stare at me,
Wherever I look there they are,
I turn around there back again,
The only way to get rid of them is to beat them out of me
with my own fists,
like some sort of fucked up exorcism,
being performed by someone who is quite the opposite of a priest,
But when I am done,
it feels good,
the bruises and blood make me feel calm again,
and I can sleep peacefully til tomorrow,
and let me tell you,
I sleep like a goddamn baby.

lack of an _ key

my _ doe_nt work,
_o whenever your reading _omething here that _hould have an _ it will appear a_ an _.
_o if i were to write for example the word_: _ea otter, _paghetti, _ock_, _mall inte_tine, depre__ion, or _centle__, they would appear without the oh _o important _ymbol of _.



_orry reader_, for the unece__ary confu_ion that ju_t _ent into your _illy live_.

An Ode To Danielle & Chris (in D major)

(should be sung as an old folksy tune, if you really want to, from D to C# to G to D and then repeated once more for the verses each time then that little bridge part is something else but its all in my head and contrary to whaty ou might think i dont have THAT much time on my hands to do all that right now..)





Never become a manager in retail,

Because my friend thats when you lose your soul,

No longer paying attention to detail,

Making others miserable becomes your goal,



You sit around on your ass all day,

But complain that you deserve more pay,

Working with teens that could not care less,

While your worrying about if your stores the best,



And all the kids that you opress,

Know your life is a wet hot mess,

And you wish that you could take a vacation,

Because out of all of them you have the lowest education,



So before you throw your life away,

Falling down an endless staircase,

Say HEY maybe its worth to pay,

A little more attention to the big ol' race,


Cuz money makes the world go round,

But once your lost in retail you cant be found,

So go to school and live a good life,

Or just find a rich old wife (or husband).

goodness gracious great balls of fire

I could kill him. I should kill him. That fucking guido mother fucker. He doesn't deserve to live. I can taste his pompous self-worshipping attitude whenever I see him. He exudes that caveman complex I despise. He's a goddamn monkey. He acts like a "thug" even though he's from a middle-class family and wears Abercrombie and Fitch and Ed Hardy, he is the moronic drone of society. Acting like everyone else acts, does not impress me, does not even catch my attention so much. But this character he takes the fucking cake. He is the complete image of a tool. Dripping with superficialities, I couldnt even start to put my hate for him into words. You think your so fucking awesome, your better than everyone else.

Shit, I'll take an aluminum bat and erase that smug look right off his face. The second he sees me and notices the seriousness in my face and my presence, I see his confidence melt away, like one of those shitty teenage wannabe drug dealers who act like they dont give a shit then as soon as they hear sirens they're pissing their pants. He's not a man. He's a boy. I tell him its over and that there's no need to resist. But the funny thing is I want him to resist, I want him to fight back. As he's backing away from me saying things like, "what's your problem man?" STILL trying to look tough even though his voice is cracking and his eyes are starting to get watery, it takes all the enthusiasm, all the emotion, all the fun out of it. Even though I can think of all these reasons why I hate him, watchin him there I just didnt have the motive, the fire burning inside me to actually be so brutal. I guess I'm just an old fashioned nice guy like that. So I stop my slow advances towards him. I put the bat down. And I just stand there, kinda just looking at him. Not with the hateful, murderous eyes I had before, but more of a sympathetic look. I still had no respect for him, but I think I now had more of an understanding of him. He's just a vulnerable kid, whos just as scared of livin' and dyin' as all of us are.

That's when he looked around, smiled a jerky lookin smile and started pumping his arms up while shouting to everyone around, "that's right baby, you can't stop Diesel, not even with a weapon this mothafucka can't stop this!" I was almost schocked. I picked up that bat and hurled it at him. It rotated fully two times before hitting him in the temple with the fatter end. He went down so smooth and easy. It was at that point I picked up the bat once more and stood over him, mashing the knob-end into his face, breaking all of his teeth. He kept spitting a couple out every few seconds when he could catch a breath in between cries for help. After continuing this motion for some time, (at that point it all became kind of a blur) I stopped and turned the bat around, observing it in great detail. It was covered in blood. Looked down at the boy's face. It didn't look human anymore, it was purple and red and puffed up and caved in all over. I just remained still, staring down at his body. I didn't know if he was still alive at the time. I didn't really care. I looked up. There were people standing all around, staring. But no one really seemed too concerned, or upset. They were just watchin' i think. I clasped the bat tightly in my hands at the handle, my hands now covered in blood. And I took probably five more hard swings right into his stomach, and one more crack right into his throat. It made a squishing sound. Like when my mom used to make death by chocolate cake and would ask me to crush a bunch of oreos in a paper bag with my fist. I then calmly dropped the bat for the last time, looked up at the crowd, and said, "Have a good weekend everybody." And walked away.

Man, that guy was such a dick though, you know what I mean?

there has never been a better time

there has never been a better time,
to take a trip on somebody else's dime,
to take a sip of a budlight lime,
to make mike mad by having my poem rhyme,
to take a swig of a gin and coke,
to realize your job is one big joke,
to sit on your porch and observe other folk,
then lean back in your chair and have a smoke.

regression

lately sometimes i feel like i might go back,
back to the days of snow,
always being cold,
shivering,
being out in the distance,
alone,
in a sea of white velvet,
lost contact with everyone who once cared.


utter and complete silence.


but always thinking you heard that sound,
THAT DAMN SOUND!
there it is again,
i know i heard it,
i must be losing my fucking mind,
but
its there, right?

oh yeah,
nevermind,
this is winter,
this is a time for being hypnotized by that white revolving blizzard,
and being cold and alone,
HA!
the 'innocence' of that fucking snow,
how i loathe that goddamn snow,
what it does to me,
and everyone playing in it,
they think they know what they're getting themselves into,
they have no clue about these times yet,
just wait til the tundra catches up to them,
then they'll really know what its like,
to be lost,
face through to brain on fire from the lack of feeling,
no emotion where a warm smile once lay.
walking,
as far as one needs to walk,
just to collapse into a white blanket,
it looks so good,
and it is,
for a while.
but once you get up,
you look back,
and you hate yourself,
only to do it all over again every time.
just because you wana be a dumb kid again,
and not grow up.

crazy times were the days of the snow,
makes the good times sweeter i suppose,
wait,
why would i even wana go back to days like that?
i dont know,
i dont know.

The Life and Death of A Ceiling Fan

Click.


oven.


table.


refrigerator.

wall.

oven.
table.
refrigerator.
wall.
oven, table, refrigerator, wall,
oven, table, refrigerator, wall,
oven,table,refrigerator,wall,
oven table refrigerator wall
oventablerefrigeratorwall
oventablerefrigeratorwalloventablerefrigeratorwalloventablerefrigeratorwalloventablerefrigeratorwalloventablerefrigeratorwall.
Click.
oven,table,refrigerator,wall,
oven. table. refrigerator. wall.
oven.
table.
refrigerator.
wall.
oven.
table.

refrigerator.

wall..


oven...



table...





refrigerator.

Working in Retail vs. Being in Hell

Advantages of Retail over Hell:
1. Air Conditioning year round (good in the summer...)
2. You get paid slightly more in retail
3. You can show up late, and you can go home when your done
4. You don't really have to listen to your superiors
5. You don't have to work very hard
6. You can fuck around and get away with not actually doing your job a good amount of the time

Advantages of Hell over Retail:
1. In retail they have the A/C going all year roundddd including winter
2. You deal with kinder people in hell
3. Less torturous
4. There's not as many screaming/crying children running around
5. It's probably less boring
6. And I'd say you most likely get more respect from people in hell

And it's probably equally crowded at times, and you probably still feel like shit and useless either one your at. And most of the people I've encountered in my days workin in retail are going to end up in Hell anyway most likely.. so I'd say they're about equal. Even synonymous if you will.

In short, Fuck Party City.

Eyes that look like yours shouldn't cry.

I'm always sad.. but i've learned to deal with it. I'm comfortable with it. I probably deserve to feel that way anyway. It's become part of who I am and it's not even so hard to live with anymore. that doesn’t matter….

But you shouldn't feel that way. You should be happy, your perfect and wonderful and pleasant, and good girls like you don't deserve to cry. And just because you have a self-centered asshole drug addict brother and parents with shitty priorities and no class doesn't mean your gonna be a failure.

I wish I could show you for just a second how you make me feel when I talk to you and you'd know how important and successful of a person you really already are in this world.

But pretty soon I can take you away from all that bullshit, just like you sometimes ask me to. And we can live happily ever after in our own awesome way that nobody would understand, while eating chicken and drinking Joose and staying up late and doing whatever the fuck we want, and not worrying about stupid pointless shit that we shouldn’t even have to be expected to deal with right now in life anyway.

Fuckin traffic man

i hate traffic, and when construction has to be done in the morning on the first day of school, which leads to more traffic..
and then leads to not getting a parking spot and having to park on the street anyway.
thank GOD i got a parking permit.......
and i still dont know how to use my molloy online account.

goodtimes.

Ongoing Assessment