There's two types of bad people.
Those with no heart, and those whose hearts are too big they get in the way.
I am a stumbling elephant.
It's
2:12 am why the Fuck am I'm awake? Don't answer that. Why is fuck capitalized? Why isn't it the second time? Why am I around? Why aren't I? Why does denying have to be the way it is? Why? Why do I deserve anything? Do I? I don't believe I do.
It only gets deadly.
My head
Have you've ever wondered, wtf goes on in their head? This is that for me. Doing you a courtesy.
I've been working on the raaailroad
A true family
A true family has one dog more than 6 I've learned.
fuck
fuck cancer.
fuck dog's fuck cats fuck hats fuck rabbit fuck like rabbits fuck you fuck me fuck it, fuck it all fucking christ fucking hell jesus fuck fuck everything what the fuck christ all fuck fuck fuck fuck.
I love all that except cancer. Fuck cancer.
true gentile
A gentleman has lots of money to take care of her. A True gentleman has nothing.
But will spend his last dime and then some on her.
bereft
Bereft. What a funny word. An amazing one at that.
Stay away from 151 every one. I will drink it all in order to save you all from certain death. I will die for your sins.
strike one and the amp
Yesterday was Sunday, sunday was mother's day. I scored free food. That's about it.
After I took it upon myself to go bowling by myself. Candlepin. Very relaxing.
It was very therapeutic for me. Also liberating as I went by myself. On the off-season days/hours they charge by the hour. Which is astronomically higher I believe, unless you're with more than a person or two. $30/h. Seeing as during busy hours they charge $4.50/string. So a good hour with a date is about $20-$25 or so. 3 strings usually. But I got my money's worth. I somehow bowled 8 strings in an hour. Wow. Two strikes towards the end. i rushed to make the hour and my arm was killing me so the last few strings saw a decline. It was a spur of the moment decision and I felt like blowing off some steam.
Today after work, I sold my amp. As mentioned in a previous post I believe, I feel ok about this. It's bittersweet, but it has been sitting for months and well, if Bukowski sold his typer to pay for rent and booze, then I can sell my damn amp. Fuck it. It sucked but it went to a good cause. I hope. I like making people happy. I like giving people what they deserve. Lot's of giving.
Here's to you old friend. May the recordings i've made with you live forever in dirt.
Eyes
I want to wall around without my glasses again. I did once in my last place. I could get drunk and walk to the stores, around the plaza in the dark. I walled the whole thing no assistance. It was interesting yes, but I did it.
Probibit
You're not allowed to share your thoughts on love and affection and romance and courtship and marriage if you left someone hung out to dry somewhere.
Pathetic
I am 25, and I sleep on a couch. How pathetic. I should get my shit together, whatever that means. I should be in my own bed, in my own room, in my own place.
This is why she left. At least that's what I must tell myself to stay sane. Or insane? There is no security, I am not a safe place or safe space for her.
I am a dumpster fire.
only 2 in
I'm not nearly drunk enough. Only mad at the world, two in. I need more to get me there. How must I reach them in the car? If they're not gone.
UPDATE: Success. Door is closed, guys outside on porch drinking Sam Adams summer ale. I jomped out to the car and came back with real, summer shandys. Because the guys wanted what I had. As they should.
More writing, what the fuck am I writing about? I'm still thinking too much about what the fuck I want to write. What am I on about?
Fact: Just as Loudon allows me to write songs, Bukowski allows me to write words. It's not that I rip off Loudon directly (or on purpose) but I say, "wtf would he do? How would Loudon write it?" I listen and study his music (and enjoy it too) and it seeps into mine. "influence" i suppose it's called. With writing like here, where I'm just dicktating (i know) to vomit my thoughts out, stream of consciousness, I type it as if I hear Bukowski's voice reading it. Even if it's pathetic and nothing like him I use his pernouncing an