www.mnftiu.cc | get your war on | page thirteen
Seriously brilliant.. Seriously terrifying. Seriously hilarious. You can’t beat this stuff. It’s on the verge of going over the edge. Sad. Only place you need to get your news.
3rd time’s the charm:
my new favorite game, honestly, is saying:
“Too gushy? Well, I’ll be wearing a T-shirt that says….”
and then the T-shirt says something like “Fuck the Baby Seals” or something like that.
the key is that it’s a different T-shirt each time. brilllliant.
I wish my skin peeled as beautifully as yours does — long, transluscent, shimmering pieces easily balled and thrown away, or kept, if one wished, used as a graft or sewn together into a raincoat.
No, my raw mess is just that — a raw mess. Snowing flakes of myself onto the seat of my chair in a never ending storm agitated by my hand, twisted about to reach the itch that never ceases, rubbing away layer after layer until I hit bottom or I hit bone. I imagine grasping my own spine one day and scratching the crap out of it as well.
This is me with my hands clasped to my face in a gesture that is entirely unlike me, smiling a smile that isn’t mine — some fool’s smile, ear to ear, too broad, too wide. So many words out there that do nothing for me and then hers come, unexpected, into my morning shot through with rain, train delays and my return to conflict. Anyone seeing me now would think I’d been kicked in the head and left with massive brain damage, and maybe I have been.
This is me smiling through the first-thing-someone-in-the-office-did-was-slap-me-on-the-back. Through the construction-worker-upstairs-keeps-yelling-“Hell-Yeah!” Through the feeling of my skin stretching out behind me.
“America may have its problems, but it’s our home. It’s our team. And if you don’t want to root for your team, then get the hell out of the stadium. Go America.”
“Go America.”
“And go Broncos.”
“Yeah, go Broncos.”
“Yeah.”
— Stan, Kyle and Cartman from South Park.
Maybe not exactly how I feel, but pretty close. So many people out there protesting and never mentioning the good parts of the country we live in. Every time I hang out with them, it’s always one of the issues or another. Never anything about the fact that we’re out past dark, spending money on what we want to, playing pool in a bar…etc. etc. Definitely don’t feel “love it or leave it” but if you’re enjoying certain freedoms, I say it’s your responsibility to acknowledge those freedoms once in a while. We need people protesting things, we need people going against the establishment (and personally, most of the time, I think the establishment does a pretty sucky job of it) but…. If you’re going to protest, the fact that you can protest should be enough for you to see some good here.
And so on….
Cubs game yetserday. Game not too good, but the company fantastic. And I got a hella cool shirt at the Army Navy Surplus afterwards. A very good day off.
And, as far as I can tell, I haven’t been an asshole to anyone today. This is a grand thing.
Last night, she said the magic words:
“I love going to Cubs games.”
The elevator in our building is acting up — every so often when it hits the third floor, it does a little drop and then jumps up and down five or six times.
The first time it did this, I jumped with it, backed up and held on for dear life. But now, I just ride with it, waiting it out.
Am I so mellow these days? God forbid.
Down to the wire and hoping not to get clotheslined. Getting so close to the end of this tragedy —
— and looking to start another anew.
But who can be bothered with all that when the other things in life are so good? If it comes to another ridiculous session in the depths of coding blah blah blah then at least I know someone will grab my hand in the microwave dinner aisle in Jewel and that makes everything alright.
“Clowns threaten to call the cops who threaten to tell my folks…
this town is filled with clowns who don’t get my jokes.”
Today’s throwback album: Too Much Joy’s Son of Sam I Am