Thursday, August 25, 2011


I’m trying to be funnier, but I might have lost some of it. The seriousness has overtaken. But, fuck that shit. Red blue square pterodactyl shit crazy douche bag Socrates fart Lambert ahahahah nope you can’t say shit like that rug bestiality commonness John Cena hate the fan over there, randomness poetry booger flow rancid rat meat diapers!

The kids are funnier now, ahaha, (weird face). These old fucks like me just don’t have it, we’ve lost touch. Ahahah, (Stupid smile). We just don’t get what is going on. We aren’t on the up and up. (Wink Wink, smile, slight fake laughter). Ah, yes, the kids…they know what is funny nowadays. (shrug shoulders as stupidly as possible while blowing a kiss to no one).

Kids these days, ahaha, they are so hip. They are just so super swick, and I am not cool for saying that. Swick, ahaha, what fags. Hey, at least the kids are still cool enough to call each other fags. I’m glad they haven’t lost that part. Actually, I don’t think they lost anything, I think the adults who were once the same thing lost something - they lost remembering being just that. What a bunch of fags these adults are.

Us old fucks at 26 just don’t know the type of music that is any good anymore. We sit around listening to our shit, from our generation. AHAH, we just aren’t that cool anymore. We are the ones that we used to look at and laugh. Ahaha, these idiots kids. Ahaha, 10 years ago I would be saying those idiot adults. Who the hell knows.

I think both the adults and the kids are funny in a way. (Stupid smile) I think that they all have something to make fun of, and points to make (stupid wink wink face at whoever is looking).

Ah, the kids nowadays are different, but they are always the same and it is quite amazing to see the interaction between generations of adults who were once young and questioning and the young they once were. (stupid face with my teeth sticking out flailing my arms everywhere to break the seriousness of the situation). It takes age to have a realization like this. That is why the “kids” would make mock some bullshit like this, hell, I am mocking myself for it. What a faggy thing this is, writing this gay ass shit, ahahah. See - nice try, I got you before you could get me, there buddy.

Don’t try to get one up on me youngins, cause even though you think it, you got nothing on me. You got nothing on cool and hip and with it. You don’t even know what South Park is. You haven’t watched that shit for thirteen years. You just might not know what cool is. You give me anything even remotely bordering on how amazing, hip, cool, funny, and meaningful South Park is and I might change my tune, slightly. Ahaha, kids these days. Where’s your George Carlin at? Oh, sorry, you have Daniel Tosh. Ahaha, kids these days. With their stupid Family Guy and every other adult cartoon that is just attempting to be what South Park was instead of being what they are. I’ll be waiting…I’ll be waiting til I’m a really old fuck…I’ll be waiting for something better than South Park to come around…I’ll be sitting around watching South Park. That is where you can find me. I’ll be sitting here watching George Carlin and South Park. Let me know when something of any worth comes up worth checking out.

Listen, kiddies, I might be out of touch, but its on purpose. We forget to remember that even when we were young, there was always music, always things in the popular culture that we didn’t get, like, or understand. (Random bullshit laugh AHAHHAHAHA) As we get older, we just notice that stuff more and don’t really notice the stuff that is worth noticing in the younger generation. You ever notice that, you little hipster douche turds? Or, you too busy on your iPad, ahahah. iPad. I had a rotary phone growing up. Who’s the real loser here? Ahaha, I grew up in a time when a few people had tattoos. The ones that had them stood out. You grow up in a time when people get them at 16 and if you don’t have one you stand out. I’ll be good over here with my nipple rings, thank you very much. I’ll be over here with my nipple rings, you can have your lame ass tattoos that have no real meaning. Me and my nipple rings will be over here chillin with George Carlin & South Park.

As a teenager, we had Britney Spears and The Backstreet Boys. We had talentless hacks all over TV and movies and music, but we also had Tool and Eminem. Speaking of that, I’m still waiting for the next Eminem to come around. What you got for me there, kids? Just like South Park, I’m not sure anything will ever quite touch what Eminem has done. We had Eminem saying “Don’t do drugs” in a mocking tone on the public service announcement on his first big album. You have him saying it for real in his newest one. Don’t get me wrong here, Eminem is still totally worth it, I just had to point that out. We had kids thinking they were cool when they were anything but even when we were kids. You kids know what I am talking about. Those lame ass kids who think they are cool. Are you are one of the ones hip enough to realize how lame most of the shit in your generation is (as my friends and I were ones to notice how lame most of the shit was in ours)? Now, as we get older, we just notice the lame shit because we aren’t in the culture enough to notice the good stuff. We remember Jim Carrey when he was actually good and new, and when Adam Sandler was actually funny. We had Billy Madison, they have Jack & Jill. We had Ace Ventura and Dumb & Dumber, they have Mr. Popper’s Penguins. We had artists fresh, new, finding out what they are about, you have artists struggling to hold onto a little bit of what they once were.

Ahaha, the kids have John Cena. I had Hulk Hogan. But, listen there buddy, I also had Steve Austin. Don’t fuck me with. You guys have Randy Orton and the Miz (he’s actually cool). I had Vince McMahon when he was at least somewhat in tune with what is cool in the world. I had Vince McMahon with at least a little part of his brain enough to present something to the world of pop culture. Before he went off the deep end and lost touch totally. You know what you’ve got? That’s right, Stephanie McMahon. Sorry, guys, this one is sort of depressing. We had Steph bouncing around the ring in her new implants, you have her working backstage as the boss of the company. Shit is sad right now, youngins, shit is sad, and it takes an old fuck like me to notice. I had Kurt fucking Angle and Shawn Michaels. Fuck Ric Flair. Well, you guys do have CM Punk, but he grew out of my generation. He is our ideas encapsulated within a character. I had Mick Foley. That is enough to say right there. Mick Foley. You know. God. Mick Foley, the untouchable. What do you have? The Undertaker more than a decade past his prime wrestling three times a year? That’s what I thought.

Yeah, you might have Lebron fucking lame James, but I had Michael goddamn Jordan. We had the best, you had one people like to pretend is. You might have Ron Artest, but I had Dennis fucking Rodman. You had someone who played dirty, we had somehow who played with so much passion there was no other way to play than hard. Someone who played with total art, you have ones who play with anger. There is a large difference. Okay, to be fair, you do have Dirk Nowitzki. I’ll give you that one. I had Reggie Miller shooting threes as if its his job (ahahaha, it was), now, we have him as an announcer. Let me say it this way: We had Reggie Miller hitting threes, they have him on a headset. I had Charles Barkley starting fights with the likes of Shaq, you have him making jokes about himself in the postgame show. Fuck shit changes and it doesn’t and I’ll keep paying attention to the NBA and wrestling and I will always love these things, even if the little fuckers don’t quite get what basketball and wrestling can mean to someone. “Oh, wrestling/basketball, yeah, that looks like fun!!!” Fuck, man, this shit has been part of my life for years piled on top of years. Don’t fuck with it if you’re not serious enough to be funny about it. I’m all for fucking jokes, but lets get the win while we’re making jokes about how terrible these fucking referees really are.

We had all of our lame ass shit, too. There is no doubt there is not all that much to be proud of from “my day” like some old faggot fuck who is just out of touch and talks like he’s 63. But fuck that shit, I’ll still swear, yet I’ll be responsible when necessary. I’ll still receive pictures of shit from my 27 and 26 year old friends via cell phone. I’ll still call out the lame and the stupid and the bullshit and the hacks and the ones ruining art, and the ones bastardizing things I love. I’ll remain what is cool just to spite these kids who think an old fuck can’t be. I still won’t look down on kids, because I was once one. I still won’t yell at a kid and be serious about it for throwing something at my car because ten years ago I was the one throwing the shit at the car. I still can’t quite get totally pissed about someone egging a house or wiping shit on a car because that was me. I still yell at kids in the street “GET OUT OF THE ROAD YOU DAMN KIDS!” but I do it in a mocking, joking tone, because fuck if I ever become that type of old idiot fucker yelling at kids to get off his lawn (even though something about that is sort of cool in a way). I’ll still let a kid laugh at me, then instead of getting mad, make a joke back better than he could have ever said and then, within his mind, know he is saying “touche you old fuck, touche, you got me there you old fuck, I didn’t think you had it.” I’ll still teach my nephews swears and shit, just to piss off adults. I’ll still remember what is cool and what is not. I’ll still write bullshit like this but remember it is bullshit. I won’t lose that sight of how lame I actually am too. Well, fuck you all, I gotta go take a shit. So, fuck it, remain young, but be old, do whatever the fuck you want, assholes. You had Robert Frost, the other guys have this! AHAHAHAH we have won yet again!

(8/25/2011 2:06 am)

The White Dog

There is a dog chasing me. This white dog attempting to gnaw at me. I run - as fast as I can. I run, but he is gaining on me. This white dog of death, of hate, of doom, perhaps of myself. This white dog of terror. He is gaining. I am going as fast as I can, using all my strength. Everything I have, but he is still there, inching closer and closer towards me. Fangs protruding from his face drip drops of sticky spit. This hell demon is after me.

All around us is nothingness. There is nowhere I can go. It is land upon land. Totally flat, there is nothing. There is no escape. There is only the realization that this white dog of hell is about to become one with me.

But, there it is. It isn’t quite in the distance, it isn’t quite right in front of me, but it is just…there. Somehow. There it is. This tree. This odd tree of something. It must be thousands of feet into the air. There are no branches at the bottom. It is just a long, long tree rising so high into the sky. But, thousands of feet up there are two long branches that break off, creating a “t” affect. This is my salvation. This is my way out. This is my escape from this demon dog. This tree of perhaps, knowledge? This tree of something I don’t know.

How did it get here? Why is it here? Where did it come from? How come I could not see it before? How did it seem to just appear? And what is with its design? Why does this tree have no branches at the bottom at all? What is with this tree that rises so high into the sky, sitting alone amongst this flatness that just happens to be there right as I need it? I don’t know, but somehow I am at the top, holding on.

Much like the tree seemed to just appear, I just seem to be at the top of it. I didn’t climb, I didn’t jump. I am just there. Somehow safe. This is my safe haven. I have made it away from this demon dog of death. I have escaped his trail of destruction. His desire to become one with me with his ravenous bite.

I am now holding onto the branches, hooking my arms back on them, as if I am doing curls in a gym. While my arms hold in this way, I wrap my legs around the tree. This is nearly comfortable. There is almost no worry. I could last here for a while if I needed to. I needn’t worry about my arms and legs getting tired, it seems as though it was set up in this way that I would be able to wait it out (whatever I am waiting out). I feel near comfort. Just then, I see the dog once again.

There he is in all his white glory, in all his biting death. He somehow has the ability to jump the thousands of feet into the air. He is jumping repeatedly. Each time getting a little bit closer. Jumping at me, teeth showing, ready to destroy, over and over I see him. I look down and watch him jump and cannot understand in any way how an animal could jump this high. He must be other worldly.

He jumps at me, over and over. I can do nothing now. What am I to do? I am stuck. There is nowhere else I can go. He is going to get to me. I cannot let go and swipe at him with my hand to knock him away. He jumps again, biting at the branches and rips part of them off, pulling off leaves as they sway softly, slowly back and forth to the ground. I keep watching, worrying more and more as he gets closer and closer to getting all the way to where I am.

Then, there he is. He has made it to where I am. This white demon dog of death has found me. He has reached me. I didn’t see him land on the tree. He, much like the tree, sort of appeared there. He was jumping, but then all of a sudden, was just…there. And, I have no clue how he did it. I have no clue how I got here. I have no clue why he is after me, how I got away, where the tree came from, where we are, how I got to the top of the tree, why the tree is designed as it is, how the dog could jump so high.

In much the same way that the tree just sort of appeared from nowhere, the dog is gone. I don’t know why he is gone, I don’t know where he went, I don’t know why he didn’t attack me. What was he chasing me for? Why was he chasing me if he didn’t intend to do anything? How was I able to get away, or think I did, for a while, and how was he able to get to me once again? I don’t know, but he is gone, somehow.

I don’t remember him leaving. He is just no longer there. Why? What was the reason? What was he after? Why was he chasing me? Why did he seem so intent on destroying me? Was I just wrong in my thought? Did he just want to reach me to show me that he could? To let me know that I couldn’t get away? But, I somehow did get away. He never attacked me, he was just gone. In a way, we both got what we wanted, somehow.

Then, I look down. My mom is there. I can see her. She is so far away. I can see her as I look the thousands of feet down. I don’t know how she got there or why she is here. I am still holding on, feet wrapped around the tree. I am not sure what I tell her. It has something to do with how I don’t know what I am going to do. I am trapped there now. I can’t get down. She tells me something about how I can make it. I don’t know. I really have no clue. What did I say to her, what did she say to me? I don’t know. But, she has let me know that I will be fine. I can do this. I can make it out of this.

I was so worried before about the dog, then, I got away from him. Then, he started to jump at me, and I got worried again. He seemed to find me even though I was so high up in this tree. But, he got to me. He jumped up in the way that I sort of appeared up there. Now, I am no longer worried about this demon death dog of destruction, of hell. He is not even a thought anymore. He doesn’t even exist anymore. It is just me and this tree and the space between us and the ground.

My mom is no longer there. She has said what she needed to say. I don’t know where she went, she is just not there. Much like the tree “appearing” much like the dog “disappearing” she is no longer there. Just gone. And, I am at the top of this tree wondering how to get down.

I am so high up, I am starting to get scared of it. This didn’t worry me before, I was too distracted by the dog. He took up all my worry. Now that he is gone, all I can worry about is how to get down. It is sort of nice in a way up here, in the breeze just sort of sitting here in this weird “t” like tree. But, I know, even though it is comfortable for now, it won’t last forever. My arms and legs will go tired and old, and I will need to find a way out. It is almost too much too take, this solitary loneliness at the top of the tree. There is nothing around me but a color I can’t describe - what white would be if you could somehow get inside of it.

I am starting to worry, slowly. It is not like being worried about the dog who was right in my face, it is about being worried about the long periods of nothingness, of solitude that this tree will keep me in. Then I think of what my mom said. She mentioned something about how I just have to get down. She made it sound so easy. She made it sound so simply. It must be. Then, I slide down. I simply move my hands around the trunk, wrapping around it, and keeping my legs wrapped, and loosed up enough to glide down. I don’t ever remember reaching the bottom, but it is alright, I found my way out. Just like that, it is all over, and that is all I can remember.

(very early December, 2010)