Category: really old

I’m swatting at flies.
There’s something confident in that task. It’s a war I know I can win. With enough time. And the fly will die on its own in a few days even if I don’t.

Does that make you grin?

Asterisk
exclamation
hash
backtick
bang

bong
banjo
heart
eager mind
mental melody

Pinwheel

spinning
slow sometimes
fast, too

shining
silver sometimes
colors, too

happy
me sometimes
you, too?

Poke your finger in my eye, and then roll it around until I start to giggle… and then stick another finger in my nose… and push it up and up until you can feel the squish squish squash of my brain.
And then take out the first finger, quite foribly, so as to remove my eye, and then wiggle around that second finger until my brain starts to seep out of my nose, and then make me open my mouth and suck my dripping brains down into my throat so I can choke on it.

will that make you happy?

American beauty is seriously amazing.
That’s the comment I have.
It made me cry at the end. Not a lot, but a little.

There’s a lot going on all the way through and it really picks on some provocative issues.

See it with some people you love. Not your parents… people close to you that you haven’t known your whole life.
Why? I dunno. That’s how I did it, and it was great. Of course, that’s how I do most things. I’m like that. ahahhh.

trembling and tumbling
yellow and mauve
draining my semen
with a sharp, cold stick

conflicts within me
crumble my success

eyes, dry and wide
I stumble, tumble on
into the night
and on to the day

I hope so anyway

I got a super-duper inspiring nice email today. I really need those emails at times like these.

I managed to get out of the building to hang out for a bit last night. The server problems had to sit and wait, but I needed a break.

here’s a poem:

sloppy joes
on my plate
I need a bun
before it’s too late!

I get some bread
white and dry
and then I stick the meat and synthetic flavoring mixture between it
and then I eat

I can drown my sorrows in my head by turning up the music and shooting down the avenue.

I can watch the pretty girls go by and even hope I might catch a glimpse of a smile before I zip away.

I can sit and think while the sun goes down and then up again, and I can praise heaven that I can do that again the next day.

And all of this is true because I believe in hope. I believe that it really is possible for things to get better.

It’s starting to happen.
The dark ways of the world are penetrating our small group.
I’m feeling the urge to get out, but I’m just being silly I tell myself. I’m showering myself with gifts to shut myself up… new car, new records, new Palm V. I like my new things… but what’s going on?

There’s so much number talk going on. It’s so arbitrary. Agh. This isn’t really what it’s about, is it?

I’m scared, and I want to cry. I’m lashing out and rejecting it. But I’m not really. I’m still participating in the discussions.

I guess it’s probably going a lot better than it would with most groups of people… but I’m just really displeased with the whole system or something.

breaking my back
working all the time
and still nothing’s getting done
or so it seems.

Does that make me a “workaholic” or do I maybe just care about what I do?

We are going somewhere, but I’m just worried that other places are going there a whole lot faster… for whatever reason.

I think maybe we are doing things better from the start… but who knows for sure?