10:50 p.m. - 2004-02-15
this is it boys this is war the president is on the line
double lives, doberman and shit-tzu
usually i am a normal polite person. im not beating my own chest when i say that i usually treat my friends and acqaintances with polite respect and deference, even to the point of seeming to appear subservient to them. really.
hmm, maybe im delusional. i was quite rude to some friends sometimes, but we all laugh it off as some joke afterwards. laughter, besides masturbation, helps to relieve tension.
anyway, yea, i seem to maintain an image of this person who sometimes speak and sometimes don't, be tactful and have the initiative to do something when sensing something wrong, say my thank yous and sorrys promptly, nod and bow to acknowledge pple, smile and keep quiet when they say something or anything, and let it fly over me. i offer no response but a polite acknowledgement because ignorance is the best snob.
but at home, i am a crazy neurotic asshole. i scream and shout and run about naked. when my mom or dad nags too much, i go into a fit, work my anger up, walk to the windows or kitchen to let out an anguish scream, to scare them. i would also tell them im going to die. i never seen such a kid that upsets his parents so.
i dun wear my casio digital watch anymore because one morning when my pple were quarrelling and making noise and i was trying to sleep and my father was in his bedroom groaning in pain away and nobody went to him and i was covering my ears with my pillow trying to sleep before time for work but nothing stopped. pple quarrelled, about money, what else is there? fuck money you say. well fuck money and one day it shall teach you a lesson to respect it.
preferably u have a strange disease that only loads of money can cure. fuck doctors anyway. patch adams would agree they're a bunch of wankers anyway.
i was angry and i got out of bed, pushing the blankets away and walking to my father's bedroom, i was very angry and upset at things, i felt like destroying something, and i am usually quite exhibitionistic about such things (i like the way nirvana kills their guitars and amps and drumsets after their shows), i held onto the strap of my beloved watch and as i walked across the hall, i flung the whole thing with a sharp and violent throw towards the ground, hoping the damm thing would disintergrate into a million flying pieces and pop explode with a lightning bang.
it cracked but it did not split. but i did not stay to see where it landed.
after the whole show, nobody was feeling well or the excitement of the show was like a funeral where the pallbearers refused to go untill they were paid. the dead man in his grave turned and his daily orbit meant his children choked on milk and vomited mud.
anyway, i couldn't sleep after that. the damm sun was shining thru the windows. pple nowadays sleep so little anyway. like freakin mice. we should evolve and become dolphins, sleeping with half-brains and half-eyes closed so the other half could do some math or process some algorithms concerning pies.
i went back and picked up the watch. it appeared fine though the LCD screen was blank. i pressed a button and a sharp whining sound emitted from it. pressing of other buttons or hitting the watch against the wall did not help to stop the death whine of the watch. yes, his swansong. somebody club him to a pulp please. leave us in peace. out.
i left the watch on the desk and walked away, hoping the batteries would run out and quiet dead still.
yes it did.
i wonder when my violent personality would rear its head onto my battered wife or some pedestrain walking dumbly on the roads or maybe i'll be gangbanged by a bunch of prideful testotorone laden jocks with health and fitness GNC paperbags.
my fren he joined the thai boxing club and fights some sadbags pummelling the sand out of those fuckers. feed them with fists. kick their balls into their asses on fire. howls with laughter howls with pain. hows with the killings mr culling fried chickens. i scare the cats by suddenly stopping in my walks. they stare at me. i lifted one foot and paused, they did the same, looking at me warily. push and repeat. i dun like cats. they dun like me. i once wanted to grow up to become a cat.
the cat saw i was too tall and no longer a kid and i came with loads of intentions in the backs of my minds and i felt the cat up and molested it for all its affections' worth, and as it turned over onto its back and lifted her furry paws to bat my hand, i think the time is up for me to go and wash my hands. it turned rightside up and looked at something far away, pretending to act cool as if it was not snubbed earlier. i tore her number into shreds of papers and burned them with my lighter.
i walked to the grass lands and screamed. for a shriek it came out like a man with a sore throat or squeezing a prince who turned into a frog. "and the angels sing stand up strong feel okay love and death dun mean the same and the angels sang.." social distortion sings.
it was out first date and we sat down and ate a heppy meal. we popped some pills wrapped in aluminium foil. to get high we were already high. to get dead we had to get laid. to get laid we were dead. look! he's so hung up upon such trivial stuff. hey! she's so well-hung. oh no thats a bad description of people.
you dun have any more dreams left do you? well make some while you're sitting in the dark, the cinema is too large, there are echoes in the bathroom, i thought i smelt something like a magic mushroom, burning its poisonous fumes across the city, haze haze, hazel, you're a sweet girl, but you're wearing polar bear fur. you shouldn't wear the skin of those you eat. but i must say "your repulsion looks good on you"--hole.
vagina monologues.
you dun have one so dun say so much about one.
why are the japanese such persistent finger fuckers? did they invent eating shit? samsung! hail korea!
ail me
aerok. goldfinger's 99 red balloons is nice.
well ok, shut up.
