Tuesday, October 7, 2003

Well, Heaven, you remember when you said I should post stuff about you, well, here we go.

Mood: Amused.
Music:Nightwish-Angels Fall First

1)Have you ever considered why stereotypes are called stereotypes? I mean, it has nothing to do with what it's saying yet it's called a "stereotype."

My theory is that barney was in a bar one eve, drunk to his ass, and had some old tape player, and started listening to it over and over and over in a drunken rage. Then it eventually got so over-used and worn down that it was just all scratchy and crappy.

Then, magically, he said, "Stereotype," all about the crowd, and began calling everyone a, "Jew Shmew," and a, "Christian Pisshan," and other such fallacies.

Yes, I believe that's how that happened.

2) Have you ever tried baking paper? It should be the national food for the poor...I mean, it's not sparse, it's all over, it's easily made. Plus it's used to wipe your butt. That is so a reason to bake it and eat it. Mm, baked paper. Now I have a hankering for it.

3) What is heavens cloud? Is it whipped cream? Better be.

That stuff's just swell.

4) Have you ever wondered if George Bush Jr. is a reincarnation of Curious George? I have. I've also wondered if Osama bin Laden is a reincarnated Big Mama.

...I'm not funny, am I. Well, at least I can steal ideas from Heavens Cloud. This seperates me from everyone else.

5) If I jump off I cliff, I will hit the ground. If I eat bacon, I will be eating bacon. If I will be eating bacon, I will hit the ground with my humongous gut that's grown too large to be small and not large.

Use the transitive property for this: If A=B, and B=C, then A=C.

6)Semjaza Azazel: Oh well.
Dilapoid: No, no.
Dilapoid: Swell.
Dilapoid: Swell is the new word of the weel.
Dilapoid: *week
Semjaza Azazel: No.
Semjaza Azazel: Weel is the new word.
Dilapoid: lol
Dilapoid: Okay okay.
Dilapoid: Yo win.
Dilapoid: Weel, it's dark out.
Dilapoid: *thinks of other uses.
Dilapoid: *
Semjaza Azazel: Weel actually means goat testicles soaked in bull urine.
Dilapoid: lol
Dilapoid: Only you would know this, Tony Jackobs. Or however your last name is spelled since I believe it is spelled wrong and I am too lazy to change it.

It speaks for itself.

7) When I get older, Ima gonna be a peditrician! Ima gonna make you buttiful!

Pun intended.

8)A sword is sharp. A pencil writes. A pen inks. And me, I'm just a dork.

9)So I'm running out of ideas. But really, if I'm running out of something, wouldn't I be walking? Or would I even be strafing? What about ambling? Ambling is so the better word. So is.

10) So I'm ambling out of ideas it is then.

11) One last thing I suppose.

Me and this kid named Ryan Dosch made this awesome video for our history videos. They had to be about something the courts would consider using to change legislature. So we chose old people driving.

Man, it's great. I took his stuffed animals, made and awesome deep voice for that Coyote from the Looney Toons cartoon, then this other dude that was green and small and gave him a lower voice.

I went insane. Then we took some lego dudes, a lego car, a lego dude on a bike.

Then I drove really really slow up to it...and then, when you least expected it, I just jumped like hell all over the bike with the car, totally runing the person's lego face.

Great stuff.
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Freestyleness.

Mood: Refreshed
Music: Metallica-One

in the rusty swings
where children laugh
like nothing is under their beds
it all rests
dead

when the leaves fall. when the leaves leave.
when a child, fallen, falls to his knees.
there stands me helping him to his knees.
and just to think of what was. and what is.
realize the way my hands feel too big on me.
or that this will never be me
again.

each year
pumpkins come
and children haggle
into suits of what they might become
wearing it proudly and with care.
and i no longer will be there.
i will wear a pigskin that is full of hair
that will slowly grey in the seasons' rain
and snow. and hail. and the endless fails.
until one day i will stand by another child
that will smile to me like wind in the trees
saying please.

the leaves are falling one by one
and growing dead in the sun
and moon. everytime i touch one
with my hands it feels like nothing.
it scrunches in my hands. scrunches on my cleats like a lost dream.

the children laugh and play in leaves
that scatter them
until they are covered in make believe.
and they throw them in the air
in a scatter of hands
and i am left
to just stand by their sides
as they play.

every year this time comes around
when scarecrows are in my head
and spiders are able to crawl
on what the scarecrow's made dead.
i am left to the machine's deed.
left to suffering as the children
swing on their rusty swings.



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Monday, October 6, 2003

The guitar blues.

Mood: Inspired/ Great.
Music: Rush-"2112" (Total length of this song is: 20:33)

I just saw School of Rock, with Jack Black. It was a mostly average movie that ended up, near the end, really appealing to me...just for what it was about.

Music. That's what it was about.

It makes me really want to learn to play guitar, mm. And you know what? I will someday.

Me and Tony have even sat here saying we'll form a band someday...it means nothing, I guess, but we've thrown band names around and stuff. Like "Boldy Going Nowhere," and so on...hm.

I've already got the songwriter part of it down.

I want to learn to play guitar...
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Keep rainnig that slow alphabet. You can't stop this A in your hair.

Mood: Decent.
Music: Thursday-Tomorrow I'll Be You

Thursday-The Song Brought to You By a Falling Bomb
Do you hear the jet plane yawning miles across the sky? Hear the garbage truck back down the boulevard settin' off the car alarms as it passes by? Do you hear the static of 1,000 d-tuned radios? Shut the window love. Keep the world outside. I don't wanna think about anyone when the footsteps are getting louder, drowning out the sound of the rain as it knocks on the window sill. I'm not answering the phone let it ring. Lately I've been feeling like a falling bomb. The ground is getting closer, and the sky is falling down. This song has been brought to you...this song has been brought to you by a falling bomb, by a falling bomb.
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Sunday, October 5, 2003

Lyrical spines shred my head/Stake me through my vampire breath/ And I'm left here all alone.

Rotting Christ-A Dead Poem
Focus tomorrow`s horizon
Sorrow means no future
Cover my face
With my guilty hands

It`s the season the trees die
The birds don`t sing anymore
The rivers never come back
Nature dies out

This tragic future
destinied to hurt never heal
What end can save me
What good gives me an end

Nothing is innocent
Nothing is fair
I keep wondering
How did I end up like this

First passion
Now is lost
A dramatic dead story
I killed all I have

My sadness is
Translated into madness
I spell meaningless words
A poem for sorrow and death

Acid Bath-Scream of the Butterfly
a creature made of sunshine
her eyes were like the sky
rabbit howls like something old as we twitch to her lullaby
the scalpel shines in god's sunshine
street lights whisper pain
down here near the poison stream our god has gone insane
she smiles like a child with flowers in her hair
with blood on her hands into the sun she stares
she feels it die, I heard her cry
she smiles like a child with flowers in her hair
with blood on her hands into the sun she stares
she feels it die, I heard her cry
like the scream of the butterfly
sunshine a house in flames
she likes it where she gets it but it's never felt the same
surgery in the house of dissection
when your candle burns out I will resurrect you
she runs through fields of daisies
yeah it's just a shame that they eat their own babies
who cares cause the air is free
when you get there will you kiss the dead for me?
there's blood on the moon
and the summer is cold
there's love in the room
but baby that's gettin' old
there's blood on my face
sittin' on a dead shore
a highway of emptiness and I'm gettin' bored
there's blood on the moon
as we plan our escape
the goddess in bloom handcuffed and raped
there's blood in the bathtub, baby
murder the king
there's blood on the moon
there's blood on just about everything
sunshine a house in flames
she likes it where she gets it but it's never felt the same
surgery in the house of dissection
when your candle burns out I will resurrect you
she runs through fields of daisies
yeah it's just a shame that they eat their own babies
who cares cause the air is free
when you get there will you kiss the dead for me?
something cold is forced inside her
a tear spills down her cheek
stillborn songs of a dead dreamer,
hymns of the needle freak
with sunlight in her hair she smiles like she don't care
her dreams are liquid blue
I cut myself again and again to remind myself of you
she smiles like a child with flowers in her hair
with blood on her hands into the sun she stares
she feels it die,
I heard her cry
she smiles like a child with flowers in her hair
with blood on her hands into the sun she stares
she feels it die,
I heard her cry
like the scream of the butterfly
like the scream of the butterfly
I met an angel with a sawed-off shotgun
wanted by the FBI
we dropped some acid, killed our parents
then we hit the road
like the scream of the butterfly
like the scream of the butterfly
like the scream of the butterfly
like the scream of the butterfly

Bob Dylan-Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again
Oh, the ragman draws circles
Up and down the block.
I'd ask him what the matter was
But I know that he don't talk.
And the ladies treat me kindly
And furnish me with tape,
But deep inside my heart
I know I can't escape.
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end,
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Memphis blues again.

Well, Shakespeare, he's in the alley
With his pointed shoes and his bells,
Speaking to some French girl,
Who says she knows me well.
And I would send a message
To find out if she's talked,
But the post office has been stolen
And the mailbox is locked.
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end,
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Memphis blues again.

Mona tried to tell me
To stay away from the train line.
She said that all the railroad men
Just drink up your blood like wine.
An' I said, "Oh, I didn't know that,
But then again, there's only one I've met
An' he just smoked my eyelids
An' punched my cigarette."
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end,
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Memphis blues again.

Grandpa died last week
And now he's buried in the rocks,
But everybody still talks about
How badly they were shocked.
But me, I expected it to happen,
I knew he'd lost control
When he built a fire on Main Street
And shot it full of holes.
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end,
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Memphis blues again.

Now the senator came down here
Showing ev'ryone his gun,
Handing out free tickets
To the wedding of his son.
An' me, I nearly got busted
An' wouldn't it be my luck
To get caught without a ticket
And be discovered beneath a truck.
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end,
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Memphis blues again.

Now the preacher looked so baffled
When I asked him why he dressed
With twenty pounds of headlines
Stapled to his chest.
But he cursed me when I proved it to him,
Then I whispered, "Not even you can hide.
You see, you're just like me,
I hope you're satisfied."
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end,
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Memphis blues again.

Now the rainman gave me two cures,
Then he said, "Jump right in."
The one was Texas medicine,
The other was just railroad gin.
An' like a fool I mixed them
An' it strangled up my mind,
An' now people just get uglier
An' I have no sense of time.
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end,
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Memphis blues again.

When Ruthie says come see her
In her honky-tonk lagoon,
Where I can watch her waltz for free
'Neath her Panamanian moon.
An' I say, "Aw come on now,
You must know about my debutante."
An' she says, "Your debutante just knows what you need
But I know what you want."
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end,
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Memphis blues again.

Now the bricks lay on Grand Street
Where the neon madmen climb.
They all fall there so perfectly,
It all seems so well timed.
An' here I sit so patiently
Waiting to find out what price
You have to pay to get out of
Going through all these things twice.
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end,
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Memphis blues again.
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Day by day the seasons past leaving me alone.

Mood: Okay.
Music: Pink Floyd-Shine On You Crazy Diamond

After taking a shower last night, I come downstairs, and my Dad mentioned that Ryan had called. So, I called Ryan at his house, his Mom picked up the phone, and told me he wasn't there, but was at his Dad's shop.

Thinking nothing of it, I told his Mom I would call him back after I went to see a movie.

My Dad took me to Underworld...which I'd kind of been anxious to see. But I really didn't want to do anything..nor have I done anything this weekend due to my crash. But I went anyway.

The movie was good in parts...horrible and parts. It's okay. I mainly liked the lead female character (her name escapes me) because for some reason...I am just very attracted to black-haired women. Do not ask me why...I just am.

After the movie, I went on the net for a while and other such things...then got to calling Ryan back. He said he hadn't called.

I thought nothing of this yet again...and then went to his house. We played Starcraft over the internet...but we were both using the same 56K connection, so it lagged immensely. Eventually I left, then just posted randomly on OB.

Then, today, as I'm sorting through my pockets in my jeans I had worn most of the week, I come across a piece of small, torn paper. Instantly, looking at it, what it is instantly hits me.

It was Dosch's cell phone number...a guy that I sometimes talk to at school. Then it also hit me that we were supposed to record this tape for History for a project yesterday, on Saturday.

I can't believe how much stuff escapes me sometimes...I just block so much out.

I've been doing this to my crash I had. Trying to forget it and go on...yet it just festers. I forget about it sometimes..but I'm constantly regreeted by that image of me finally seeing that there's a car right in front of my car, and then me braking, and then hitting the car.

Ah well. Hopefully it won't stay with me too long.

Then as I was in the shower today...I was finally hit with that Dosch's first name was Ryan, and that was who had called me yesterday. How stupid am I? I usually don't forget things like this.

I called Dosch...got that sorted out, apologized.

It's also so ironic that we were planning to do our thing on the movie ratings system and I had gone to see Underworld. What more slap in the face do I need to be jumpstarted to remember, geesh.

Yesterday my Dad also took me to this all you can eat Stir Fry place. I ate more than I have eaten for a really, really long time.

I absolutely hate the filling of being that full...and when, after going home, I had felt it long enough..I remembered I used to eat like this all the time, back when I weighed more and hadn't lost my weight.

I felt like going up to the bathroom and puking in the toilet...but I told myself and knew that that is wrong to do. So I sat there burping like two hours...just trying to wait until this heavy, fat feeling left me...an as I burped, I kept somehow barfing up small chunks of popcorn and what I'd eaten at the stir fry place. That probably wasn't good.

Eventually I did get to sleep...and today I have eaten next to nothing. It is that I think I have gained some weight from eating so much last night, I guess. But I really haven't even been hungry, either.

I just don't want to be dependent on food as I used to be...mm.
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Saturday, October 4, 2003

Thinly sliced potatoes.

Mood: Okay.
Music: A Perfect Circle-The Noose

thinly sliced potatoes
for your hands
so glad to see you
well
cooked to baking
in the oven knell
baking in
hell

diablo's round the outside
oyour oven's head
watching quietly
as you're cooking and rising
just like the chemical reactions
of yeast to bread

he's got this look in his eyes
he's fallin hard for you
all dressed in white and skinned in brown
he's fallin hard for you
i can see it in his eyes
he looks at you through the fire light
glaring so dreamy at you burned

how long can you bake
in an oven that's four hundred degrees
will your body be crushed
and your soul slushed
in the melting magma of your knees

will you please
melt for me
in an oven that's four hundred degrees
diablo's loving you depressed pleas
watching so patiently
from the oven's face
as you're inside your dreams
like nectar from honey that sticks in your teeth

thinly sliced potatoes
for your hands
your bones are sticking out
from your shackled malnurished mouth
and cabbage for your hair
rocks for your eyes

what happened to you
atrocious?
what happened to you

atrocious
what happened to you
to you

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Overview

Mood: Okay.
Music: A Perfect Circle-Pet

Good:
*Week is over
*Paper was released on Friday
*I have been decently happy all week
*Little homework for the weekend
*I have all B's and A's in all my classes now
*It is the weekend

Bad:
*Car crash
*I feel lazy today
*I am festering over this car crash
*Insurance is going to go up
*Supposedly I have to find a job now
*The weekend ends too fast
*My Mom lost her job earlier this week
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Friday, October 3, 2003

More stuff.

Mood: Festering
Music: Amorphis-Alone

Tear dimmed rememberance
In a womb of time
Breath upon me
Possessed by the passion
Fate will set you free
Infertile
Chased be the precious
When flesh is an enemy
Fair weather man

(pre-chorus:)
Step aside from the way of a better man than you
So you fall at his feet he’s the one who betrays you
It’s the servants devotion for the decay
Stand up

(chorus:)
There are no flowers on your grave
There are no chains
There I keep chanting for the forgotten name

Why you feel so empty
And still have everything
It’s fullfilment
I’ve got more companions
When I’m all alone
Flesh is fetching

(pre-chorus:)
Step aside from the way of a better man than you
So you fall at his feet he’s the one who betrays you
It’s the servants devotion for the decay
Stand up

(chorus:)
There are no flowers on your grave
There are no chains
There I keep chanting for the forgotten name

There are no flowers on your grave
There are no chains
There I keep chanting for the forgotten name

(pre-chorus:)
Step aside from the way of a better man than you
So you fall at his feet he’s the one who betrays you
It’s the servants devotion for the decay
Stand up
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This poem sucks..but at least it helps.

scree
down the river
in the october air
neath my hands the wheely despair
of a screech to my foots lapse
has collapsed in my open arms

eech
on the rubber cement
as sailors sail their coasts
where pirates crawl back
to their ships

a wreck, ho ha, thou slalom
too close to the edge
with marionette eyes

frigid as fists of cruel intentions
the velocities' little love
of gravtiy's lawing hand
brushes the side
where eyes meet their view
and i wanna live where i don't breathe
i wanna sleep on my side that i know least
and these cars have no home in men's hearts
just as cupids arrow skin and bones
i refuse to hit the hand which i have
that makes a car worth more than me

i screeched
roses' bloom inside
as i hit
the car's back
scratching an inscribation
where i lie vacant

i braked
the world withers
and dies
as momentary lapses
forget to send me
back to where it was
i felt i had my mind together
glue never mends paper i remember
and x's and o's never mean better

nobody
not anybody
never even somebody
never ever
done a deed
and got away

not anybody
not anyone else's eyes
never seen what i seen
and never grown to see
that it was nobody's fault
but mine

nobody ever seen
the metal and men
being meshed
to them

nobody ever done it
nobody's fault but mine






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