pushpush

life and fucking
sweat sweat sweat
payoff is good
payoff is great
sweet sweet sweet
experiment with my expectations
and all day I will
sweat sweat sweat.

4/30

Realized today the odd tie between two things.

1. I currently am kind of "homeless" I guess, I live with some friends, but this is not going to be my permanent residence, this is people helping me out until I can get a permanent residence.

2. Until I have a legal residence, no matter how nice a shower may be, or how long, or how much I clean myself in such a shower, I will never feel as clean as I would if I were to bathe in a place where I get my mail.   Maybe it's just me.

I just made sure and re-aquired my copy of wes eisolds "deathbeds"

this book was re-pressed, I have a first edition and if you want to buy it, i'll sell it for no less than $200, if you want a newjack edition you should get it anyway, because if fall out boy got sued over stealing lyrics from wes, and they made millions... now homeboy is in cold cave.. yeah he's pretty great.


that's all I have to say,
I will leave this with a piece from deathbeds.

"creep"
sometimes I feel like a creep
for just walking around
and knowing about creepy things

upstairs from a ballet class
where I hear the teacher say

if you see anyone weird, tell someone-
There has been a bad man around

well I look weird to little girls
but I'm not a bad man
still I feel creepy
for knowing what the bad man does




....

Pt. III

    It was my Junior year of high school, she was sitting in my car in the parking lot of school, I felt that lump in my throat and that unbelievable knot in my stomach, I moved my hand up to pull her bangs out of her eyes, my hand could not make a connection this time as she moved to her right just enough to dodge it, I sank, real hard, real fast, but I'm not going to cry, I swore I wouldn't do it, she was my first love, at that point it felt like my only love, as if the thought process was "there are absolutely no other females in the world."   Stupid kid, she let out a sigh that broke the silence, opened my car door and walked out without shutting it.  I sat there motionless for a few moments, tried to swallow the lump leaned over to close the car door and heard the drips fall from my face onto the vinyl seat, deep deep deep breath in, out slowly, shut the door, turn the key and leave.  I lived 4 miles from the school, and as cliche as it seems that 4 miles seemed absolutely endless.  I couldn't think of what I had done wrong, little did I know, high school relationships are just fucked.  I sulked into my mothers house, no one was home, good.  went into my room and just laid down on the bed for well over an hour staring at the ceiling.  Then it hit me, I can just end this, show her she shouldn't have left me, because that makes total logical sense, won't even write a note, she'll know why I did it, then my Mother will find out and hate her and then everyone will hate her, best idea ever I thought,  This was the night I found out drinking bleach and suffering was not the best way to go to kill yourself, this is also the night I found out I would have many many many more chances to do this over and over again.

4/24

I used to be a lot more creative, used to spend a lot more time writing.

When I was in my early 20's I would spend entire nights with a pack of cigarettes and a case of beer, stay up the whole night just going and going and going and not stopping, I'm pretty sure I threw all of it out.  When my typewriter finally broke, I was very devastated, I stopped writing pretty much all together and just picked up on the drinking and smoking more, now over half a decade later i'm feeling the urge to write again, and calm down on the things that deter any creativity, considering i'm not 22 anymore and the years and years of this seems to be catching up, I feel quite stupid most of the time when years prior I actually felt quite smart.

My thoughts are slowly coming back to me, I need to keep them this time, i'm really tired of losing things that matter, and my thoughts are the most important.

Most of what is written here is little things I come up with, some continue with each other, some are just small pieces I don't want to forget, some will make absolutely no sense.

That is all.

Pt. II

Back at that bar again, eyeballing that asshole in the corner who seems to have it all, big dick, big wallet, big hands, big titted women, he could probably die tonight and people would be really upset, something you read about in the papers, NOT as an obituary. "so-and-so was coming out of sally so-and-so's house very early tuesday morning after filling her up all night, and was struck by a drunk driver.."   this is what the world needs more of, thinking too much about this just makes me want to go home and try to end it yet again, maybe this time, it would be so so so very nice to jus... "what the FUCK are you staring at man???" now my attention is elsewhere, my mere gaze has now turned into a full fledged stare, yet I can't open my mouth, the half smile I give right back to him doesn't seem to make him very happy at all.  "you're fucked up man, you staring at my girls tits??  you a pervert?? i'm going home and slapping these tits tonight, you can slap yourself thinking about it you freak." I half shut my eyes and keep the grin, even though he's completely right, might as well make his night terrible for the sake of it, he won't remember it tomorrow anyway, no one ever does.  I slide my hand into my coat pocket and remove the cold steel, his eyes have immediately gone from anger to terror, don't worry asshole, i'm not going to hit you, you are no where near my own temple... click..

Pt.1

    As we have ended up here so many times before, the question still remains, how many times will I have to kill myself before it actually takes?

    I'm a quitter, oh I 'm a quitter, and a junkie, alcoholic, smoker, gambler, and countless other -ics and -ers that are looked down upon.  Take me for what I am, for I am the sleeplessness as a whole, I am the original sin.  I am full of narcissism, full to the brim, thanks mom and dad.

    "When are you going to stop?" she said with that awful face, that face that you just want to smash until it's completely erased, and hopefully erased from your memory only to be replaced with the mess you have left, which is arguably better than that goddamned shit she was pulling before.  "Why do I have to stop, i've killed myself 377 times and it seems like it's the only way I can get a good nights rest.." And there's that face again, shit, I'm so close to snapping, but her, unlike I will not wake up if I decide to destroy her existence, "mmmmm, you're upsetting the natural order of things, you're explo.." and I cut her off by walking out, I know this, I know this all too well, it's this conversation that has made me hate that face of hers, but I believe it to be right.