When one loves himself, what is it that he is loving? For instance, why does
one cringe when he smells the farts of another?, but when he whiffs some of
his own gas he delights in the foulness of it? What is it that we love about
ourselves?
Here is a incomplete list of the things that I love about myself:
My sweet smelling farts
My bony wrists
My scars, bruises and scabs
The sound of my neck popping
My tutelary spirit
My incomprehensible beauty
My excellence...
I could go on forever but I don't have the time. Ciao.
March 4th, 2001 Monday
Dear Diary,
My addiction to the sweet taste of ether sends me into egotistical rants
sometimes. I'll forget everything; black out and wake up in front of the
mirror. When I review my experiences by listening to my audio tape
recording, all I seem to hear is me- talking to myself. It is sad, I
know. And I am ashamed of myself when I love myself that much; it's just
not healthy. Though I do truly admire my tutelary spirit. Oh, and my
incomprehensible beauty, I'm not going to get too greedy here. Okay, I'm
going to add my excellence to the list, but that's the last one, plus I'm
full of charm and relentlessly handsome, thank you very much folks-
Belvedeer, get me my ether! (P.S. I hired Mr. Belvedeer to work for me
last week; he's an excellent chef!)
March 20th 2002, Wednesday
Dear Diary,
Today I woke up after being unconscious for God knows how long. It might
have been days, but then again it could have been only a couple of hours.
Everything seems okay except for the fact that Mr. Belvedeer is gone. None
of his things are here which leads me to believe he won't be coming back.
And my ether is gone. But I could have used it all myself, I'm not quite sure.
I've spent most of the day so far trying to recollect what happened during my
blackout. My last entry is from the 4th, and today is the 20th. Does that mean
I've been out for 16 days? Jesus, what's happening to me? I feel so confused.
Why would Belvedeer leave? And with no note? Something must have happened.
Something bad, I can feel it in my bones.
April 3rd, 2002 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
As it turns out, I actually fired Belvedeer while on an ether induced rampage.
There was nothing scandalous about the conditions of his departure except for
my own shameful behavior. Fortunately I managed to smooth it over and Belvedeer
is back in business; infact he's making me some nachos right now. I'm relieved
that he's back and this whole misunderstanding is behind us. Now I can move on
and focus on the more important issues of my life.
For one, I've managed with great success to abstain from ether for a full two weeks.
Even Belvedeer is proud (which is why we're celebrating with his famous nachos
tonight.) The delicous smell coming from the kitchen is enough to completely put
out of my mind the sweet smell of that devilish drug. Oh how I'll miss that sweet
aroma, though! Infact, I was even toying with the notion of releasing my own line
of ether cologne, but Belvedeer's thinks it wouldn't do good for my quitting.
He amazes me with his wisdom sometimes. What would I do without him?
Secondly, there is now a woman in my life! Oh Diary, I am so excited. I met her
in an Ether Anonymous chatroom. She goes by the name of 'SeXy Lil Boo_69' and we
are positively in love. I know this my sound naive, but I'm seriously considering
marrying this sexy little boo of mine. It's true that I haven't met in her person
yet, but I've seen pictures and she is to die for. She has the most beautiful blue
eyes I have ever seen and a bossom that begs to be held. For the past week since
I've met her I can think of nothing else except the day when we will finally meet
and consumate our smoldering love. Even Belvedeer has commented on my perkiness.
It feels like I am back in gradeschool chasing around Mary Mutherford, giggling all
the while. She calls me her 'sweet snookie' (such a clever girl!) and swears that
she has never felt so in touch with another human being. It's true she is only 16,
but her next birthday is coming soon and only a year after that Johnny Law can do
nothing to stop our lust for one another! I am truly a happy man, Diary, for the
first time in a long while. I have even found a place for the Internet in my
nightly prayers. What a wonderous invention! It has advanced our relationship far
beyond the level of physical attraction; when we talk to one another it is as if
our souls have been connected along with our modems. I should get going now; Sexy
Boo and I are supposed to meet up online tonight to exchange naked pictures of
each other. Cheerio!
April 10, 2002 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
Our trip to London was great. I can't really remember anything about it, though.
I do remember that Belvedeer didn't come; he had to stay home and look after
Gregory Peck, my new pet crow.
eing back in Austin is wonderful. The Seasons are changing and the air is getting
warmer. Barton Springs is on my mind more and more these days. My home is at the
Springs. I am the Springs and the Springs are me. We are one. Come fill me with
your children.
The new tape will be done very soon. We're recording it all ourselves: Poor Man style.
It's going to sound terrible. But wonderful. More wonderful than terrible.
I've been listening to some new music lately and I desperately want to share it with
the world. Here are some of my new favorites:
Count Basie and his Orchestra
The Talking Heads
The YeahYeahYeah's
Beck (Mutations)
Stereo Total
Dan the Automator (Bombay the Hard Way)
Before we leave for Hamburg there's going to be the First Annual March for Life in
the campus area. Everyone should join in and celebrate life with us as we bang on
pots and pans, wave flags, yell and scream, and act like fools. We'll keep you
posted. For now, I bid you blah blah blah.
April 14, 2002 Sunday
Dear Diary,
i used to have a special hair barbie. no i mean barbie. i'll never
look like barbie, barbie doesn't have bruises. look at this i look
disgusting! no! look at this shit, can you believe this! get yourself a
chair and sit down, shut up. get over it.
so i was pissing the day away yesterday throwing rocks into windows and
smashing windshields in, you know, and thought, "i want to learn how to
drive american." right after i realized this, though, i just started
tossing out all over the street. some chump came over and started
yapping all around, so i pushed him and puked all over his shoes.
and he got all this and that over it until some lady walked by and got
all up in his face screaming, "he's feeling fine, it's you that's making
him sick, let's go; come on, we'll fuck him with the check." so i was
like, "look lady, what the fuck are you talking about. this is fucking
bullshit!" and she says, "no! look that's the rollerma, i won a skating
trophy when i was six years old."
before i could tell her to piss off, though, some old bird walked by,
lookin sideways at the looney lady; so she gave her a "fuck you
grandma," and chased the hag all the way down the street, asking,
"grandma can i borrow the car?" over and over again.
i wish we could get out of here. and then we're gonna go off and live
in and live in like paris, and just sort of go out in a blaze of glory.
but don't worry, you'll be proud of us. i must have been dreaming. i
thought we had this little dog. it was really little. and we loved it.
but then it got sick and it was dead. it was dead. and we loved it.
and we didn't know where to bury it in paris. but we couldn't keep it.
so we ate it.
April 16th, 2002 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
Alice told me to my face today that I was ugly, but I didn't care at all
because she's the ugly one anyways. Well she told me that and what was I
supposed to do? just stand there and take it? Maybe you would but not me
so I spit in her stupid face. By the time she tried to hit me I was running
as fast as I can to the monkey bars because girls can't climb the monkey
bars anyways. I was hoping by this time that she didn't tell her stupid
little friends or even worse the teacher. Well guess what? she did tell
the teacher and the next thing I know I hear Mr. Dodgson yelling at me
telling me to 'get over here this instant' and I knew I was in big trouble.
That's when I saw the rabbit-hole. I had to hurry because Mr. Dodgson had
decided to walk over to me and he was close so I jumped on the ground and
ran over to the big hole. I didn't really have time to think about things
because stupid Mr. Dodgson was right behind me saying, 'Mr. Linnell, you
have FIVE seconds to get over here right now!' I knew what I had to do, so
I jumped in the hole.
Down, down, down I went for quite some time. It was dark and I couldn't
see anything, except for little streaks of gold and blue light flashing
occasionally. I fell past a little shelf and there was a jar on it that
said, 'ORANGE MARMALADE' so I picked it up and smashed it over my head.
April 18th, 2002 Thursday
Dear Diary,
Actually woke up before noon today. Sat straight up and downed a cup of joe
in the same motion. No problems, just eased into the day. First thing, had
to pick up some new shampoo. Needed a shower: bad. Boy was I a stinker.
Next stop: porno shop; gotta take back those raunchy hardcore vids. Break
for poolside appetizers with Brent and Julio. Two rounds of ping-pong. Brent
vs. Me. Julio just cheerleads. I win round one in a sweeping victory against
the harmless fag, Brent. Round two:the tables are turned as Brent aces three
in a row to tie it up and send the whole goddamn affair into overtime. Game
Three, the Final Game ends predictabley when yours truly stomps all over
that little pussy, Brent and wins the whole tourney as initially expected.
Back to porno shop, this time with Julio, to pick out a new gimp suit for
him. He tries on three, unsuccessfully finding a good one. Fight breaks
out, Julio screams, I lose my cool, next thing I know we're out on the
street and Julio's crying. Oh shit, here we go again, I think. So I
managed to calm him down with a couple of fruit smoothies and next thing I
know he's like, "Let's go back and show that redneck in there we're not gonna
take his shit!" and I basically say, "Right on Julio, my man!" so we got up
and walked back across the street to the porno shop. Julio barged in the
front door, totally pissed, saying he was gonna fuck somebody up. I think he
even knocked over the dildo display. I was halfway in the door, halfway out,
getting very ready to either haul ass or jump in for my homeboy Julio at the
proper time. It ended very abrubtly, Julio saying something about going and
getting Brent so he could kick this guys ass. Either way, we ended up leaving.
I was so tired after the whole ordeal that all I really felt like doing was
going to sleep. So that's what I did. With Julio and Brent.
April 19th, 2002 Friday
Dear Diary,
Got a new pen. Air coming through headphones. Katie across from me. Steven
next to her reading The Philosophy of Andy Warhol. Aubrey and Javi, not
wanting to go to the Vatican, left early for Florence. They're supposedly
getting a hotel so that when we arrive we'll have a place to sleep.
The Vatican was strange. It made me want to be real cynical. Unfortunately,
the Sistine Chapel had already closed so instead we opted to go inside St.
Peter's Cathedral. The Pope's thugs, wearing slick suits and dark shades
with fresh haircuts, wouldn't let me in at first because I was wearing shorts.
See, inside the churches you have to cover your legs. So while I waited outside,
Steven and Katie walked around inside. When they were done, Steven and i changed
clothes and Katie and I went inside while Steven waited outside. It was rather
ridiculous. One woman wearing shorts had actually tied a scarf from pocket to
pocket in order to cover her knees; and that was somehow acceptable! Also, some
locals were renting out pants for about ten bucks. April 25th, 2002 Thursday
Dear Diary,
My name is Jonas. No, my name is Ahab. Who am I? Oh Diary, I had a most frightful
day yesterday! There was a snake in the woods, he was huge, probably five feet long.
Andy noticed him as he slithered slilently towards us, his eyes ablaze with fury.
When we got up to leave, he climbed the tree and followed us overhead, determined
to attack. We outmanuvered him and escaped to saftey.
Later on, there was a cockroach climbing up my shoe, eagerly searching for my precious
skin sweat. Fortunately, a new friend helped me out by yelling, "Oh shit! You got a
roach." and pointing at my shoe. Needless to say, I was terrified. Fear took hold.
Instictively, my foot spasmed and the cockraock flew off the shoe, falling on the
floor where it fell victim to multiple foot assualts from that guy. So the rest of
the night the cockroach was basically lying dead right next to my foot, his white
guts squished out and everything.
Lastly, there was a frightful experience involving my cat. While I was enjoying a
nice smoke out on the porch, this particular cat (who will remain unnamed) came
walking towards me carrying a dead rat in her jaws. It was positively dreadful!
I immediately realized that this cat intended to approach me with its foul 'present'
and unless I took a counter measure then things would get ugly. I grabbed a tennis
racket and waved it at her. She ran away, still with the beast in her mouth.
I felt relieved.
It was indeed a frightful day. The end.
May 3rd, 2002 Friday
Dear Diary,
A charming day yesterday. We finished all recording for the new cd; what a good feeling.
there's about thirteen or fourteen songs and it will be called Kill The Wall Street
Abrahams. i wanted the name to be Swante and Pompey Ride Gleefully In Their New Sports
Car On a Bright Summer Day With The Wind In Their Hair And Love In Their Hearts, but no
one else seemed to go for that idea. it ended in a compromise really. i'm listening to
it right now and it sounds fab! ciao!
May 4th, 2002 Saturday
Dear Diary,
today i ate a marshmallow and spit it out all over myself because i was too lazy to chew
it up. sometimes i hate chewing- and breathing- and especially walking, i hate that the
most, but not as much as i hate running. thats the worst.
after the whole marshmallow experience i tried to fix my old pair of scissors that i adore
greatly. of course it ended up being more work than i am used to so i just started spitting
at the scissors; after that i kicked the scissors- which didnt result in fixing anything at
all. so i broke my mirror out of rage and then spit at it in a last attempt to fix it also,
again with poor results. there was only one thing that could make me feel better: tv.
so i sat down to enjoy my personal collection of martha stewart specials that normally air
on the home and gardening network but now reside on one glorious tape containing at least
fifty something episodes. i can never get enough of martha stewart; the woman is amazing,
and georgous at the same time. how do you do it martha? as i popped in the tape, though,
something went terribly wrong and a ferocious noise began blazing out of my television's
speakers; with a rage like no other i kicked in my television in one quick and devasating
movement. i love watching a smoldering television set!
after this victory i went out and bought a new tv and watched martha stewart until i quietly
fell asleep on the couch with juicebox in hand (grapefruit). goodnight martha, i love
you...until tomorrow.......so long one and all.
oh dearest diary today i awoke with the great fear. they're coming to take all of our heads
and its starting with our mothers and beloved pets. who, you wonder? those damned indie kids.
i've realized we must kill them before they kill everything sacred and holy in music. at first
i thought we could just ignore them, but now i've realized that they're out for blood: and they
must be stopped. please don t support trends; be original and be yourselves. when we were kids
we were all original and cool, even. and then came the fads that took away childlike innocence
and originality and put in a standard. i'll piss on your standard. if its too late for you,
though, here's a 3-step plan to clear your head from those evil fads:
1. go to your local elementary school
2. befriend a group of first or second graders
3. hang out once a week and take extensive notes
after a month or so of getting back in touch with the realness you should be okay to re-enter
society as an original human. beware of the fear!
May 10th, 2002 Friday
Dear Diary,
I have had a very good day. It is very early in the morning right now, friday morning. I am
also quite plastered. But I invite you to read on...
So what is going on toniight? i have yet to lay rest to one day and already i am thinking
about the next. i talked to sam recently; they have a new cd out. and also beth maples is
spinning firewith tool. or so the rumor goes...
i feel like i have hair on my face,. an uncontrollabel itching. this is really too much.
let's go to blue hole or to some other rope or bandares, home of the giant 50 ft rope swing...
in moments i will be off to bed. what will it be like? how will it feel, iinebriiated
against the sheets? will i slumber in the nude? again with the itching! alright now, let's
see what comes of friday may 10th 2002..
May 17th, 2002 Friday
Dear Diary,
I saw Star Wars Episode II last night. I even waited in line for a couple of hours to go
see it. I'd say it was worth it, especially since it featured a bone-chilling Matrix II
preview. Samuel L. Jackson and Yoda stole the show. There's a fight scene between Yoda
and Count Dukoo that made my heart soar like an eagle. But already I've said too much.
I encourage all of you to go see it. End transmission.
May 23th, 2002 Thursday
Dear Diary,
I dreamt last night that I was running in a feild, and I had a wonderful and loving dog to
accompany me (I loved him as well). We were running around and the wind was blowing (this
might have been some where in California). I decided to explore, so I make my way over to
these mounds of rocks (I'm a genius) and I start climbing. I get to the top and start to
peep over and I hear music (actually coming from my room in the physical realm) and I see
a mailbox, just as I'm about to climb up, a cat lets out an enormous screech and pounces on
my neck...I wake up trying to shake it off. I wasn't supposed to be there...that house is
forbidden.
I was then walking through my last day of school and I overhear a young boy explaining to a
friend of his that he had a dream last night that he was stabbed in the neck. That struck
me, and I don't know what to make of it.
May 23th, 2002 Thursday
Dear Diary,
Diary, i have a lot of explaining to do. first of all, i've been lying for a long time now.
the dreams, the wild nights, they're all terrible lies and the truth....well, the truth is
that i shot myself in the stomach this morning and only have enough strength to write this
last message.
I've been thinking about my life all day long and it makes me vomit blood and then cry
because i'll miss so much. what will life be like after i am dead, should i call my loved
ones and tell them that i'll miss them, or should i just call random phone numbers and tell
them that i love them and life is fantastic over here. more lies- before you know it those
things will run your mind.
i suppose the only thing left for me to do is begin my long journey home to say one last
goodbye to my best and only friend in the world, hojo. he can lick my wounds and we'll cry
together, remembering the times when i was a dog too. when we would run through the
neighborhood as a wild pack of maniacs- ripping apart garbage bags to find the goodies
inside. "Well my good friend, you've outlived me, despite your morbidly obese lifestyle.
And this is goodbye, so let's be strong together as i lye down and fall asleep like george
washington once did."
May 27th, 2002 Monday
Dear Diary,
What a day. We went out to sell snow cones behind Barton Springs. We let the environment
settle to the new change of a crazy tropical flavored truck in the area by playing frisbee
in the warm Austin sun for a while. So we start up the generator and a cop reminds us about
the requirement of a permit to sell in the area. So we resort to going in Barton Springs
and trying our hand at the local girls, luring them in with our line of being a veteran snow
cone dealer. Making our way to the bridge we find a group of people following through with
a bet as follows; if guyA can make himself throw up, guyB will jump off. GuyA succeeded
with great ease, so easily that he kept throwing up for the next 20 minutes to our amusement
(and the passerbyers). So the guy jumps and just misses his friends vomit. We decided we
needed bigger signs and music...but what should the signs say and what music?
June 2nd, 2002 Sunday
Dear Diary,
im finally completly crazy sanity not even a choice anymore but thats ok i just cant have
what i need ill get it in due time if i had everything all the time i would be really bored
im entertained beyond belief i laugh at everything or run in fear today i was offered a
sausage and i got angry and yelled at the nice lady who offered it to me and then she hit me
over the head witha frying pan but she was weak and i took this as an advantage and while she
was trying to pick up the pan from the floor i stole all the sausages and (of course ate a few)
put them into the laundry basket and then i ran away onto a raft which took me to the russian
palace in moscow me and the czar happened to share a lot of common ground since he had been
drinking vodka and lighter fluid for quite some time so we fell in love and went to nigeria for
a honey moon and well thats where it got wierd the czar said that eating monkeys was wrong
while i was chewing on monkey brain and drinkingsome of his vodka lighterfluid mix he said the
monkey would make me go bald and he would not love a bald man so i said fuck off laghed and
burnt all my hair off my head so he kicked me ad i shoved a paddle up his ass and bit off a
cheek and now i live in the jungle living off monkey flesh i think ill get what i need very
soon itll settle me and calm me like a warm bath a j and barry white
June 6th, 2002 Thursday
Dear Diary,
Sweet heavens, i'd forgotten what the taste of victory was like! The foz is alive and well, and
both of us went downtown last night to watch the clouds. I felt a sort of togetherness-a sort
of bond with fozzie...he reminds me of a wonderchild pulled from the bonds of public education
and forced to develop his talents in privacy. Anyhow, i know our friendship will soon be tested
as he is becoming stronger and stronger with his talents. Last night he lifted an elevator sky
high, and asked ''where do you go when you turn around?'' Such a secure statement for the
time, but argueably one of the most risky. I do not know how long he will be able to stand my
company, for i see a spark of independence in his eyes from time to time. Perhaps next week i
will tell him where i go when i turn around, and i will say it with mindless ease considering
my addiction to ether has returned. Today i woke up in front of the mirror not knowing how or
when i got there, and as i lifted my eyes i discovered that my entire room was covered in blood
red spraypaint, including me. There were pictures of little kids all over the ceiling and one
bold statement written across the walls: "Fozlur for a better today." I marveled in awe at
this wonderous sight, and the sweat streamed from my brow now that the ether had finally worn
off. All i could gather was that the story was to be continued, some other day, in some other
place and time. The Foz had returned, and in one gulp i would be close to him again.
June 10th, 2002 Monday
Dear Diary,
beee ohhhh eeeeeehhhhhoooooohhhhheeeehooo dogwood center is the place for dyslexic love
breadstore hypochondriac monopoly machine is gonna cheat the scene and fuck the teddies and the
mods and the strods and the dandies but the rude boys are alright ddddddown with lunchlines down
with candycanes down with homework down with evolution down with micromachines down with the
rippers down with baguettes down with frozen pizza down with the weasel for sheazel and cheddar cheezle maxine and michael peter are some gay motherfuckers also winston down with winston and
down with placentas and bloody debutantes at sleazy restaurants.
buckets of blood and pitchers of calamine with aloe and brine and crocodile bile coooole forever
plus never divided by hardly ever and the dividend will be so so clever that you need to lick a
feather and change the weather but it's such a hopeless endeavor whatever is wittled like a
willow slug in his oriental and pajama party plug don't invite the fuggy wug and rolley polley
slimy slug the horizontal shakedown innercity breakdown a new wave dig your grave run run run run
run away today psychokiller french is the next word on this section.
?
i really like blondie because of 2 very independant reasons:
1) she sucks
2) fuck you i didn't want to talk to you any way walk the walk or get out of the kitchen fatboy
i really like scarlet because of 1 reason:
1) she smells like catfood
items i ingest daily:
-fishburger
-fish
-burger
-fishburger again
-deoderant
-codfish
-seabass
-marmalade milkshake
-toothpaste and spraypaint
-honeysuckle sandwich
-the moon
-1 cup of breast milk
-1 cup of human blood
-1 quart of responsibility
-octypus eggs
-fishburger with old shoe
daily recipe: a burning fireplace (light appetizer)
-one teaspoon regret
-a pinch of sorrow
-milk, however much you like milk
-lust
-soiled undies
-1 fireplace with burning wood
-a pap smear
-rare dinosaur bones (triceratops)
-"the scream" (edward munch)
if you want to make this dish for your party or whatever just put wood in the fireplace and
get in tune with your old feelings of jealousy and then go in a complete rage and call brian
wilson and tell him pet sounds sucks, especially the first five songs, and then invite your
friends into the room and cut up old tires for ingestion.
list of exceptional voices:
-guy from unsolved mysteries
-micromachine guy
-keifer sutherland
-natalie imbruglia
-grampa munster
-manute bol
-wario (definitely)
-wolf metzner
-winston churchill
-pac man
-hank azaria
-devo
the best numbers:
1, 9
category of pain:
-towel snap
-titty twister (aka purple nurple)
-goose (aka ass pinch)
-dry heave
-sticky hippy
-dutch oven (aka hotbox)
-wet willy
-gooshy gus
-hot carl (aka the crapedon)
-gnarly gnarl (aka leg gets caught in blender)
-chute popper (aka m-60 where the sun don't shine)
-the fudge packer (aka hershey highway aka sludge factory)
-the dino crunch (aka ballbuster)
ultimate list of the coolest people on the planet:
-yogi the bear
-harry carey
-carl sagan
-luke perry
-chairman mao
-santa claus
-luther vandross
-frank stallone
-emilio estevez
-the girl in the black dress from the hideout (further description: beautiful sleek back with
berryliscous shoulder blades and slender neck- please please please call me my number is 301-0066)
-anne frank
-gene simmons
-donny wahlberg
-edwin hubble
-the easter bunny
-bill nye the science guy
-michael moore
-teddy roosevelt
-stan lee
-uriah heep
-terry wyoming
-monkey madness
-scorpion king
-ella fitzgerald
-the bee gees
-abba
-abigold sinister
-glenn pompey
-gallager (aka sinbad)
-diane destruction
-mothra
words that rhyme with cashew:
?
states that resemble cashews:
-wyoming?
number of hours i've slept in the past 2 days:
0
top 13 mottos for the 90's:
-i hate myself and i want to die
-nobody likes me, everybody hates me, lets go eat some worms
-turn on and then change your mind because it sucks
-ready set go
-one two three not it
-yo momma
-yoink
-i wish i was dead
-i wish you were dead
-you resemble my aunt in a way
-downsize downsize downsize
-upsize upsize downsize again
-would you like fries with that
okay folks we know what you're all about and frankly we're a little disappointed with the
outcome. first of all, your results were poor and your attitude was uncharacteristic.
please shape up and fly straight next time and get off my fucking lawn you fingerless freak.
June 12th, 2002 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
someday i'm going to kill debbie, she's such a bitch and for no
fucking reason! i hate it when she tells me to do something and then
i don't want to do it just because she's a big bitch! and she always
says "if you lean- you gotta clean"....and i'm all "shut up debbie no
one even thinks that's funny" and she's all "what did you say" and
i'm all "yeah, i said that rhyme of lean and clean is fucking
retarded and i want to smack you around every time you fucking say
it." and then she fires me but i apologize and she rehires me;
dammit i wish i wouldn't be so charming and she would just fire
me...debbie if you're reading this: you are a bitch and i don't give
a fuck anymore- in fact, i hope you're reading this!
June 23th, 2002 Sunday
Dear Diary,
today we have brand new tee shirts for every little fozlur boy and
foklur girl. (thanks to the hard and precious work of atomic atom) i
think that people who come to the flamingo on the 25th will wear the
shirts and like them. uriah heep will be there and so will medeski
martin and wood. they suck and told us our tee shirts suck. so i
won't stay to see them. i went to see the real heroes last night and
they are rock and rooll incaarnates from austin. go see them and
enjoy it. now i will leave you with numbers that are poignant today:
5, 12, 69. that is all. TUESDAY 25th FLAMINGO CANTINA: 1:00
June 26th, 2002 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
Simon went to jail and missed the show, kevin turned 21, adam went
crazy and cut open his finger, cari broke her cherry, reed was
amazing, and teresa hit a lick. all in all, if you were at the
flamingo cantina at 1 in the morning on the 26th then you were a part
of something special.
July 2nd, 2002 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
my fingertips feel like meltdowns and my wrists feel like pesticide
and soggy little diapers are walking closer and its disaster helping
stopping of the rain and rain and rain and rain and rain inside a
drain and there's never a point to anything anymore and there's never
a reason to make your bed in the morning is there? do you make your
bed in the morning? and what does that say about you as a person? in
fact, do you even know who you are as a person? in fact, do you even
know who your bed is as a person? in fact, does your bed know any
gossip on any other beds because i've been wanting to talk some shit
about this one bed i met (who was a total sleaze let me tell you).
Anyway, my arms feel like haggling and my knees feel like diligence.
July 6th, 2002 Saturday
Dear Diary,
I ate at G/M steakhouse for breakfast. After mustering up the
strength to get over my fear of eggs I settled for the #5 (2 eggs,
bacon, and sausage) until I saw the OTHER side of the menu. Gee,
this changes everything. Later I saw the remains of the possum I ran
over the night before and I felt sick. But not too sick. I played
golf and thought about feeling guilty for it. I found the fun and
fear in stare downs with rich men. I saw my sister kissing a guy and
I wanted to bop his ears. That shmuck even held her head. I felt
sick again, but not too sick, so I went and bought Harold and the
Purple Crayon and read it in the childrens corner. (I also found a
great magazine called ADBUSTERS, it's like water, good water). That
fink that toyed my sister was still smiling at me in my head so I
went and bought the Vasalines Cd . . . that guy was smushed man, no
where to be found. So, I guess I'll smoke and get a crayon and see
where I go. So, I guess I'll get a crayon and see where I go. So, I
guess I'll see where I go. Oh yeah. I'm going to copyright this
idea right now. I'm going to set it straight. I'm going to create a
company that breeds beautiful and talented people and I'm going to
sell them to other companies. My inspiration is Lizzy Jager. Do you
think she'd like to listen to my new Cd with me? I think stinky
style is okay. I'm sick of cool. It's misleading. I smelled myself
without smelling myself today. I forgave myself in a second. I'm
going to miss the "greatest generation." Go see them at G/M
steakhouse. I don't want to be scared of my generation. I don't
know how to end this.
July 7th, 2002 Sunday
Dear Diary,
it's final: i'm quitting this all and leaving. i've decided, instead,
to form a gang and raise awareness. music is for pussies- people
don't fuck around when you got a street team behind you.
FRIDAY! Totally rad. refreshingly swift. add some peppper to the mix.
where's cari? she's taking forever. my top favorite beers: 1. corona,
2. miller genuine draft light 3. shiner bock. shaved today. hate
shaving. happy belated birthday to simon! 19! i've had bye bye bye
nsync in my head all day. cool cari's here!
July 22th, 2002 Monday
Dear Diary,
i've felt the cold steel of your gun on my forehead now for 4
straight days. who could ever imagine such a threating move being
made by a diary..not that i'm questioning your power, for it is great
right now, diary, let us not forget that.
do you want to kill me, diary? well then kill me dammit.
it's either you or tesla and i don't think tesla has moved from his
fucking chair since last month. do it diary, you fucking bastard evil
diary: kill fozlur!
oh yes, the reassuring feeling of warm blood- fuck you diary, this
will only mean it shall be long and painful.
July 24th, 2002 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
Last night was sad, because just when I saw the girl of my dreams,
she turned and walked away. Then: the natural decay of walking. I
chased after her of course, but when she turned around again it was
like The Shining; she was nothing but a cackling corpse. So I ran
like hell. As I was running I started thinking of good band names
but didnt come up with any worth remembering. At the end of the
hallway was a mirror, and for the first time I noticed how dark I am
getting. It's always the darkest just before dawn. When I realized
this I woke up, because I remembered I had something planned at dawn.
An orgy in the woods. Milla Jovovich was there along with Winona and
Frank Grimes for some reason. How was it? I'll say this: I've had
better.
July 25th, 2002 Thursday
Dear Diary,
i just hung up the phone from a call that will change my life
forever. you see, i was reading- quietly and then i stopped
midsentence for maybe five seconds and my mind started focusing on
suicide, as i've been doing for the past one hundred or so hours, and
at that random instant the phone rang. the voice was male and
completely unfamiliar to me; he sounded like he must've been at least
40 or older and there was a sense of urgency in his tone, due to his
excessively heavy breathing. the exact conversation went as follows:
me: hello.
caller: look, you don't know me but i'm calling to help you out. i
don't have much time.
me: who is this?
caller: i said you don't know me but i'm calling to help you out.
me: look, if you don't tell me what's going on then i'm hanging up,
who is this and how did you get my number?
caller: don't you realize that you need help; just trust me when i
say i'm here to help you.
me: alright, i'm fucking hanging up the phone-
caller: wait, the point in my calling you wasn't to agitate, please
believe me when i say this: i just shot myself and i'm dying. i don't
have much time to talk but please listen carefully-
me: i don't know who this is but this isn't funny and i'm hanging up-
caller: it doesn't matter who i am- where i'm from, it's all trivial-
were you or weren't you thinking about me two minutes ago?
me: i don't even fucking know who you are- how could i have been
thinking about you?
caller: were you or weren't you?
me: alright, this is really starting to fuck with my head, yes, i was
reading and i stopped for a second, you know, and then i started
thinking about suicide- but i've been thinking about it for a long
time, who's to say this isn't just some coincidence or something?
caller: all i know is that i'm slowly dying on my kitchen floor and
you are not- before i pulled the trigger i had this desperate
feeling, as if my life was hopeless and i never belonged anywhere or
helped anyone. i knew that i had to talk to someone and help them-
save them, if you will, from something and then i finally got the
courage and pulled it and a phone number was beating in my brain as
my heart was pumping out my blood all over the floor. i grabbed the
phone and all i know is that i have to fucking help you before i die
or else it was all worthless- please just tell me how to help you
before i fucking die-
me: alright, you've got my attention.
caller: do you wish you were me right now, bleeding and dying?
me: i don't know, what is it like?
caller: it's scary.
me: do you regret everything that's happening right now?
caller: i will unless i help you and feel some kind of closure.
me: why did you decide to end your life?
caller: divorce, losing custody of my 2 little girls, cancer,
lonliness- pick one.
me: don't you wish you could someday see your little girls again, at
least when they're older?
caller: yes, i will miss seeing them blossom into women- finding
husbands of their own, starting happy lives for themselves, family,
all that, but the cancer would've killed me within 5 or 10 years
indefinitely.
me: do you think they will be devastated tomorrow?
caller: yes, that's the worst part about this- them having to see
their father dying in shame, like a coward.
me: do you think you're a coward.
caller: yes.
me: don't they know you better than that, you couldn't be a coward?
caller: i wish i could say that they know i've been battling this
hell for the past 17 years but there's still that doubt.
me: what hell?
caller: life, illness, hospitals, chemotherapy, hopelessness wrapped
in days and devastation wrapped in weeks; never feeling better and
slowly losing everything i love.
me: what did you love most when you were happy?
caller: my wife and my family.
me: will she be devastated tomorrow?
caller: she's given up on me, just like i have on life- she's the
only one who knows i'll be happier somewhere else.
me: what about your parents, won't they be devastated?
caller: my parents are both dead, i have no brothers or sisters; my
family was all i had and now i have nothing.
me: what is your name?
caller: todd humphries.
me: you can do something to save yourself, can't you todd- i'll call
911 and they can get over there within minutes, just hold on and tell
me where you live, todd.
caller: no, time is up- every word that comes out of my mouth burns
in my stomach. i feel waves of heat coming over me, my vision is
fading.
me: todd, please just fucking tell me where you are and you can
change this- hello? hello?
caller: just tell me, did i help you?
me: yes, but please- give me your address i can get someone over
there and-
caller: goodbye.
RIP
Todd Humphries
Thursday, July 25, 2002
3:38 a.m.
July 31th, 2002 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
Late afternoon
I've only gone outside once today and was in the sunlight for a total
of 15 minutes. I've been sleeping on and off since I got up this
afternoon at 1:00 PM. Just lazing around all day, reading The
Brothers Karamazov, listening to John Lennon with Katie, eating
salami, cheese and bread, drinking orange juice and dozing in and out
of relaxing sleep.
Yesterday was very similar, with a little bit more activity, though.
We woke up late and sat around in bed until Steven finally persuaded
us to get up and go on a hike to Monterosso. It was hot by this time
and ten minutes into the walk Katie and I gave up and let Steven go
on alone. He didn't seem to mind.
We opted to go to the beach, swim together in the dirty water, make
sandcastles together, and suntan. Later in the evening, while Steven
slept, we went on a date to Castello's, a nice restaurant on top of a
hill over-looknig all of Vernazza. I paid. It was a great fucking
date. I had a very swell time.
Not really in the mood to write;just wanted to check in. Feeling very
very lazy. All that I need to do is find a way to make reservations
in Venice so we aren't screwed when we get there on the 5th. Oh fuck,
tommorrow is Independence Day! What a trip.
August 1st, 2002 Thursday
Dear Diary,
i have extensive updates:
1) atom did a new diary update; i'm not sure what i think about it-
he's so not hot anymore. i mean, at first atom was so hot, but
now...eh. talking about his romantic dates and cool european nights:
better luck next time.
2) someone shot tesla and he took him to the hospital in reed's
suburban; tesla didn't say a word the whole time and we still don't
know who did it (again, sources point to atom).
3) me and simon and reed and cari went to the waterloo in-store to
see sonic youth. this kid named hunter got to play rock paper
scissors with the new guy in the band- i would've demanded the game
be played against lee ranaldo instead..that new guy isn't even in
sonic youth, he's like courtney love trying to sing in nirvana for
kurt: bullshit. demand lee ranaldo.
4) atom will be on tv tomorrow at 5:15..on channel 15 (amn). tune in
and call him up.
5) things are becoming more and more violent as the progression
continues. something will give here in at least a month. and then
something will break.
August 4th, 2002 Sunday
Dear Diary,
My sighs come almost as frequently as my yawns now. Satan's
fingernail. We, the stoned genuises, philosophize in our sleep. Can
governments feel disgruntled? We are cynical but too tired to
argue. We have understood that our understanding will pass. We are
the Daughters of Sin, realized in the beds of our drunk fathers. We
are the sleep-walkers, in limbo between this world and the shadow
world. We ask each other, in the buzzing silence of the summer's
night air, "Shouldn't you explode?" The comeback is always quick and
well-delivered: "Shouldn't you?"
August 5th, 2002 Monday
Dear Diary,
Today I went to Barton Springs and enjoyed life. my feet in the
grass, my heart in those cute little eyes of squirrels, my soul
captive to the rhythm of tejano as i divulge in heaven. oh, how great
it is to be me! -but wait, you don't know who "me" is, do you? well
let us find some clues:
whoever i am, i went to barton springs today? whoever i am, i am
silly!
August 12th, 2002 Monday
Dear Diary,
hey, our new recording should sound wonderful and should be available
by the fall. the big old nasty wedge, home of excedrin headache
number one. just don't get really driven in. or get swallowed in
north beach california. it's like diving off a freeway overpass and
landing on concrete. paddling off just for afew waves and shooting
the peer like the heroes. clean cuts, make clean ride cuts and
you'll never need a job.
August 17th, 2002 Saturday
Dear Diary,
Yesterday love was such an easy game to play. All we had to do was
pray. And now I feel I've lost my way. Where have you gone Yesterday?
But now the slippery dew comes rolling through, changing hues of
orange to blue. The summer breeze dies from the limbs of the trees.
The summer is lost in february frost. The bleakness is heard from the
beak of a bird.
At least once during this tumbling day my mind turns your way; not
easily forgot are your ways. My foolish mind creates a scene,
remembering naps on fields of green; now no such fields are seen.
And the cold comes creaking in, like a rusty hinge swung wide open.
August 18th, 2002 Sunday
Dear Diary,
sad saturday, no where to play and so i say sad saturday
the only way for me to stay, sad saturday, sad saturday
September 3rd, 2002 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
today i ate a fresh pile of my own shit and then i had to shit it
out. then i knelt down and ate the shit that i just finished
shitting out. it was exquisite. then, about an hour later, i had to
shit it out again. after mustering up a great deal of hunger i knelt
down and ate my shit again...what was this shit originally?
was it hamburger, or maybe corn dog? maybe it was a pizza or trout?
either way, i felt the need to shit it out once again and then ate
the shit again. so then i had to shit and then i ate it. after
which i had to shit. then i ate my own shit. later on i had to shit-
so i shat. then i decided i was pretty hungry, so i ate what i
shat: my shit.
eventually the shit got smaller and smaller until it was just the
size of a pea....but wait, that is the answer: this shit used to be a
bunch of peas! and now, through this process of shitting and eating
the fresh shit that was shat, i have reduced a full plate of peas to
one small pea sized piece of shit! how amazing!
September 6th, 2002 Friday
Dear Diary,
All is good, all is clear, just not fixed, as it could be. itll grow
back and fuse into place. It may look a little different but we all
need a little character, a few scars, and the occational resting
points for regeneration.
September 7th, 2002 Saturday
Dear Diary,
alright....who did the last diary entry? i have my guess, but i just
want to know. and while we're at it...who did the one before that?
about shitting and eating shit? out with it!
September 9th, 2002 Monday
Dear Diary,
So the glory rolls on with the shit eating, ambiguous comments, and
finger pointing. All is well due to this happy ordinary perspective.
September 9th, 2002 Monday
Dear Diary,
it's confusing. what am i- dirty and young. naive and dirty. young
and stupid. oversexed and underfucked. no, white and dumb.
a is for acne
b is for body odor
c comics and cigarettes
d death
f fuck, fucking, fucked up, and fucked over
g god
j jealousy
k kiss, knocked up
l lust
n naive
p pussy vs. prick (pussy always wins)
s smack
v vibrator
w worms
x xpressway to hell, xplosion
y yes (when yes means no)
z sleep- to be dead.
wake up: it's september 11th all over again.
September 11th, 2002 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
i wonder what will happen today?
September 12th, 2002 Thursday
Dear Diary,
So nothing happened yesterday, im dissapointed, i wanted an Armageddon
September 13th, 2002 Friday
Dear Diary,
i was most certainly not disappointed on september 12th...i was
overjoyed that we, as a nation, will pretend none of this ever
happened. how? by focusing on the upcoming friday- today. two
words: romantic comedy (covered in blood). beware of friday the 13th
all of you lovebirds out there- freddy k is on his way, to make yo
ass pay!
September 15th, 2002 Sunday
Dear Diary,
I am an insect child surrounded by larvae. These babies are my
brothers; I keep nightly watch over them. But when Dawn comes, with
her rose red fingers, I slip secretly out the back door and,
whispering a prayer for my family, venture into the day.
I hate my life as a business man; everyone is constantly lying. But
my heart has been pessimistic lately, so you can't trust me either.
What's the point? Everyone always seems to have a different answer.
I get home in the evening to find my entire family has been devoured
by a giant grasshopper. My boss would call that "The luck of the
draw." Is there any symbolism here? No.
September 18th, 2002 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
I'm so horny. All I want to do is fuck. 24/7 fuck fuck fuck. I could
fuck till the cows came home, and then I would fuck them. I could
fuck for a century and still be wanting more fuck. The Fuck Love
inside me is unstoppable. A tight pair of pants walks by and my mind
screams: FUCK HER! Someone bends over to pick something off the
ground and my mind says: NOW'S YOUR CHANCE!
I didn't always feel this way. There was a time, long ago, when I
had no Fuck Love. Silly as it seems, whole years would pass and I
wouldn't so much as think of a soft breast or supple buttocks. But
then one day I felt a surge of hormones flood through my brain; life
was never the same. Suddenly women appeared to me as things that
could be fucked. No longer did I wish to engage in meaningful
conversations with them; I wished only to engage them in some serious
fucking.
Oh diary!, what do I do? My lady friends are starting to avoid me.
I can't even talk to them with out trying to fuck them right there on
the spot. How can I release this mounting pressure before someone
gets hurt?
September 19th, 2002 Thursday
Dear Diary,
okay, this is the diary speaking: i have some advice young fucker-
take a cold shower and go fuck some sheep. fuck some pigs, fuck some
pigeons, fuck some marmadukes and then fuck a hippo because you can't
go around sticking that thing into girls you just happen to run
into. i know it fits rather conveniently and even manages to slide
about nicely, but it doesn't belong in every hot pink taco! so get
it outta there before you get busted stealin the pooty!
September 20th, 2002 Friday
Dear Diary,
I'm so thrilled, Diary, for today I can fly! My wings sprouted up
this morning, and I've been fluttering hither tither all over town
since then. I feel as light as a feather.
September 21th, 2002 Saturday
Dear Diary,
I'm so distressed, Diary, for yesterday I could fly! My wings were
brutally severed this morning, and I've been stumbling and bleeding
all over town since then. I feel as dead as a doorknob.
September 25th, 2002 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
Today a brontosaurus came up to me and told me to lick the rocket
September 26th, 2002 Thursday
Dear Diary,
fozlur headquarters:
autumn has come at fozlur headquarters- everyone has left the
homefront but the battle rages on. waiting and waiting until nothing
is real- and no one can be trusted. lick the rocket because this is
the preparation before the storm- some will run from the storm, but
it will find and destroy them; some will search for the storm and
they become the eye that controls it. we're boarding up the windows
and getting tighter so we can plow through anything. our time is
coming and now we will wait.
September 27th, 2002 Friday
Dear Diary,
I propose that in right angled triangles the square on the side
subtending the right angle is equal to the squares on the sides
containing the right angle.
Let ABC be a right-anlged triangle having the angle BAC right;
I say that the square on BC is equal to the squares on BA, AC.
For let there be described on BC the square BDEC, and on BA, AC the
squares GB, HC; [1.46]
through A let AL be drawn parallel to either BD or CE, and let AD, FC
be joined.
Then, since each of the angles BAC, BAG is right,
it follows that with a straight line BA, and at the point A on it,
the two straight lines AC, AG not lying on the same side make the
adjacent angles equal to two right angles;
therefore CA is in a straight line with AG. [1.14]
For the same reason BA is also in a straight line with AH.
And, since the angle DBC is equal to the angle FBA: for each is
right: let the angle ABC be added to each; therefore the whole angle
DBA is equal to the whole angle FBC. [C.N.2]
And, since DB is equal to BC, and FB to BA, the two sides AB, BD are
equal to the two sides FB, BC respectively; and the angle ABD is
equal to the angle FBC; and therefore the base AD is equal to the
base FC, and the triangle ABD is equal to the triangle FBC. [1.4]
Now the parallelogram BL is double of the triangle ABD, for they have
the same base BD and are in the same parallels BD, AL. [1.41]
And the square GB is double of the triangle FBC, for they again have
the same base FB and are in the same paralle;s FB, GC. [1.41]
Therefore the parallelogram BL is also equal to the square GB.
Similarly, if AE, BK be joined, the parallelogram CL can also be
proved to equal the square HC;
therefore the whole square BDEC is equal to the two squares GB, HC.
[C.N.2]
And the square BDEC is described on BC, and the squares GB, HC, on
BA, AC.
Therefore the square on the side BC is equal to the squares on the
sides BA, AC.
Therefore etc.
Lick the rocket.
Q.E.D.
September 27th, 2002 Friday
Dear Diary,
I propose that in right angled triangles the square on the side
subtending the right angle is equal to the squares on the sides
containing the right angle.
Let ABC be a right-anlged triangle having the angle BAC right;
I say that the square on BC is equal to the squares on BA, AC.
For let there be described on BC the square BDEC, and on BA, AC the
squares GB, HC; [1.46]
through A let AL be drawn parallel to either BD or CE, and let AD, FC
be joined.
Then, since each of the angles BAC, BAG is right,
it follows that with a straight line BA, and at the point A on it,
the two straight lines AC, AG not lying on the same side make the
adjacent angles equal to two right angles;
therefore CA is in a straight line with AG. [1.14]
For the same reason BA is also in a straight line with AH.
And, since the angle DBC is equal to the angle FBA: for each is
right: let the angle ABC be added to each; therefore the whole angle
DBA is equal to the whole angle FBC. [C.N.2]
And, since DB is equal to BC, and FB to BA, the two sides AB, BD are
equal to the two sides FB, BC respectively; and the angle ABD is
equal to the angle FBC; and therefore the base AD is equal to the
base FC, and the triangle ABD is equal to the triangle FBC. [1.4]
Now the parallelogram BL is double of the triangle ABD, for they have
the same base BD and are in the same parallels BD, AL. [1.41]
And the square GB is double of the triangle FBC, for they again have
the same base FB and are in the same paralle;s FB, GC. [1.41]
Therefore the parallelogram BL is also equal to the square GB.
Similarly, if AE, BK be joined, the parallelogram CL can also be
proved to equal the square HC;
therefore the whole square BDEC is equal to the two squares GB, HC.
[C.N.2]
And the square BDEC is described on BC, and the squares GB, HC, on
BA, AC.
Therefore the square on the side BC is equal to the squares on the
sides BA, AC.
Therefore etc.
Lick the rocket.
Q.E.D.
"These Days" Nico
"I Wanna Be Your Dog" Iggy Pop & The Stooges
"Superstition" Stevie Wonder
"Disconnection Notice" Sonic Youth
"Lost Cause" Beck
"Ego Tripping at the gates of hell" The Flaming Lips
#1
"Sunday Morning" The Velvet Underground
October 3rd, 2002 Thursday
Dear Diary,
songs:
"These Days" Nico
"I Wanna Be Your Dog" Iggy Pop & The Stooges
"Superstition" Stevie Wonder
"Disconnection Notice" Sonic Youth
"Lost Cause" Beck
"Ego Tripping at the gates of hell" The Flaming Lips
#1
"Sunday Morning" The Velvet Underground
October 4th, 2002 Friday
Dear Diary,
Ate some fish, threw them up. Ate some solid gravy, puked my head
off. Ate a horseshoe, was constipated for a week. Swallowed a gollon
of lye and had a foot round hole from my neck to ass. Moral of the
story..... i cant think of one i just felt like talking about things
you shouldnt eat, except for the fish of course, which is really tasty
especially when backed to perfection. heres a recipe.
Ingredients:
1 fish fillet, per person (red snapper, sea bass, )
1 can whole green chile peppers (Ortega)
1 pkg. Hidden Valley Ranch dressing
1 thick slice Monterey Jack cheese, per each fish fillet
Method:
Butter a baking dish large enough to accommodate
fish. Place fish in buttered baking dish; sprinkle with veggie
salt, pepper (garlic powder and dill weed) optional. Place one
whole chile pepper on top of each fish fillet. Place a thick
slice of Monterey Jack cheese on top of each chile pepper.
Cover all with freshly prepared Hidden Valley ranch dressing.
Bake at 350 degrees for approximately 1/2 hour or until cheese melts.
Best to bake uncovered.
October 7th, 2002 Monday
Dear Diary,
my ankles hurt, hey guys the 3 videos will hopefully be ready next
week for debut on amn. it depends on tomorrow's session, though. i'm
going to carve right over the light and then i'll pop out and grab my
board and suck up all the sweet air from up there.
to javier, our new drummer, you should come on amn with me and let me
introduce you to all 5 people who are into fozlur via this golden
medium of television- plus it's reason for us to get all drunk
beforehand. keep telling them my name is Humphrey. (cause with me-
the hump is always free)
October 9th, 2002 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
9 weeks left until christmas vacation- that is not a lot of time at
all. people will be coming back to austin for their vacation; people
will tell me that they need to talk to me and i won't listen. and
then it will be the next semester and those people will be gone again
without me saying anything.
October 10th, 2002 Thursday
Dear Diary,
Let's clear a few things up:
"Peoples' Choice Award" is America's greatest honor.
Styrofoam is not made from kittens.
Nerds on the Internet are not geeks.
The word "cheese" is not funny in and of itself.
The older Flanders boy is Todd, not Rod.
Lyndon Johnson did not provide the voice of Yosimite Sam.
Bullets do not bounce off of fat guys.
The "Cheers" gang is not a real gang.
Licking an electrical outlet will not turn you into a Mighty Morphin
Power
Ranger.
Salt water does not "chase thirsties away."
The Beatles haven't reunited to enter kickboxing competitions.
Cats do not eventually turn into dogs.
The U.F.O. was a paper plate.
Janet Reno is evil.
Godfrey Jones' wife is cheating on him.
Bart is bad to the bone.
Audrey Hepburn never weighed 400 pounds.
Our viewers are not pathetic, sexless food tubes.
Mr. Dershowitz did not literally have four eyes.
Recycling does not deplete the ozone.
Everything is 10% fruit juice.
The flesh eating virus does not hide in ice cream.
If you are reading this you have no life.
Roy Rogers was not buried inside his horse.
The other U.F.O. was an upside-down salad spinner.
Our universities are not "hotbeds" of anything.
V8 juice is not 1/8 gasoline.
Ted Koppel is a robot.
Women aren't from Venus and men aren't from Mars.
Fleiss does floss.
Quale is familiar with common bathroom procedures.
The "Bug" on your TV screen can see into your home.
Everyone on TV is better than you.
The people who are writing this have no life.
October 10th, 2002 Thursday
Dear Diary,
Just to make sure we're all seeing the same thing here, let's clarify:
1. Red looks like love,
2. black looks like hate,
3. white is pure,
4. blue is cold,
5. orange is hot,
6. green is life
7. purple is the Kingly Color
8. brown is dirty
and from faraway the mountains are flat
and close up things move
or maybe im just high
October 10th, 2002 Thursday
Dear Diary,
dear diary,
why don't you ever call me anymore we had one night of
unimaginable ecstacy you fucking suck my asshole
love,
cari
October 13th, 2002 Sunday
Dear Diary,
i am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together.
see how they run like pigs from a gun? see how they fly? i'm crying.
sitting on cornflake waiting for the van to come.
man youve been a naughty boy youve let your face grow long.
October 13th, 2002 Sunday
Dear Diary,
I'm working on an all country album: suitcase full of nothing. It
should be ready for this dark cold winter. (enter chilling breeze)
October 16th, 2002 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
oh diary, dear diary, oh diary, dear diary, my diary, my little
diary, oh diary, let's diary, dear diary, let's diary, oh diary, my
diary, oh diary, dear diary, oh diary, dear diary, my diary, my
little diary, oh diary, let's diary, dear diary, let's diary, oh
diary, my diary, oh diary, dear diary, oh diary, dear diary, my
diary, my little diary, oh diary, let's diary, dear diary, let's
diary, oh diary, my diary, oh diary, dear diary, oh diary, dear
diary, my diary, my little diary, oh diary, let's diary, dear diary,
let's diary, oh diary, my diary, oh diary, dear diary, oh diary, dear
diary, my diary, my little diary, oh diary, let's diary, dear diary,
let's diary, oh diary, my diary, oh diary, dear diary, oh diary, dear
diary, my diary, my little diary, oh diary, let's diary, dear diary,
let's diary, oh diary, my diary.
October 17th, 2002 Thursday
Dear Diary,
diary you suck
October 18th, 2002 Friday
Dear Diary,
diary: as a fuck, son- you suck
October 21th, 2002 Monday
Dear Diary,
I just woke up from a crazy dream. I was at a party with all my best
friends. Other people my age were there too. I recognized them but
not from real life. Everything seemed normal but nothing was. I
could tell it was a dream because everyone was in their pajamas.
Everyone had the same hairstyle, too.
I was drinking wine with my beautiful friends outside and everyone
was happy. But all of a sudden an ominous cloud blew over the night
sky completey blocking out the moon. Conversations halted, merry-
making was put on hold. An eerie silence crept over the party. I
looked to my companions for answers but they were just as confused as
me. When I turned back around to face the other party goers I
noticed they were now zombies. They all turned on us. We tried to
kick them out, calling each by his God given name, but they no longer
listened. One Zombie, formerly Matthew Benoit, approached us. He
smelled like shit, his mod hairdew was covered in grime. We could all
tell what he was thinking: Brains. So I quickly jabbed the neck of my
wine bottle through his glasses and into his eyeball and ran. The
others followed me and eventually we stoppped in the street to catch
our breath.
Then out of nowhere we appeared at another party. The zombies were
gone. It looked like we were at an outdoor opium den. Junkies
reclined in lawn chairs with vacant looks in their eyes. The smell of
opium was everywhere. Some of the party guests sat very still in the
night staring straight ahead. Their attention was directed at a large
outdoor stage. A projectionist spun his wheels and aimed his
technicolor light at the stage. I took a seat in order to watch the
show. This was no normal picture show, I soon discovered. It was a
montage of images that flowed like an illogical stream of thought.
There were principles of math laid our cleanly, primate brain surgery
and, childhood memories. It didnt take long for me to realize I was
watching my own thoughts. Everyone else could see them too. This
notion terrified me so I left immediately.
What kind of freakshow had the world turned into? Mindreading
projection machines? Pajama-wearing zombies?
When I woke up it was Monday; I had been sleeping for three days!
October 22th, 2002 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
after that last entry, the flame in my heart has been rekindled for
you.
love,
cari-poo
October 23th, 2002 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
i love wasting words and talking about things that no one will ever
even notice. like this: i'm going to kill eight dogs tonight at 3 in
the morning and no one will stop me. that's another thing that i
love, the fact that no one will stop me from killing dogs. i like
punk rock. i like girls with weird eyes. i like drugs. (but my body
and mind won't allow me to take them). i like passion. i like playing
my cards wrong. i like vinyl. i like to feel guilty for being a
white, american male. i love to sleep. i like to taunt small, barking
dogs in parked cars. i like to make people feel happy and superior in
their reaction towards my appearance. i like to have strong opinions
with nothing to back them up with besides my primal sincerity. i like
sincerity. i lack sincerity. i like to complain and do nothing to
make things better. i like to blame my parents generation for coming
so close to social change then giving up after a few successful
efforts by the media and Government to deface the movement by using
Mansons and other Hippie representatives as propaganda examples on
how they were nothing but unpatriotic, communist, satanic, inhuman
diseases, and in turn the baby boomers become the ultimate,
conforming, Yuppie hypocrites a generation has ever produced.
October 24th, 2002 Thursday
Dear Diary,
i would like to thank kurt cobain for his guest appearance in
yesterday's diary. i think we're all a little more reassured knowing
that you're still around.
October 25th, 2002 Friday
Dear Diary,
today it is friday, not friday night- not friday afternoon: friday
morning. it is a day in which i will get back in bed at 2 o'clock,
once my engagements have been met, and sleep the day away. i got out
of my car and a bird passed by overhead saying, "it's friday!" and
this other bird was all, "i'll be damned it is friday isn't it?" that
got me to thinking. why do we celebrate friday? obviously because it
is the symbol of getting through another week, but is this measly two
day weekend really "all that and a bag of chips"? i suppose every
weekend that question has a different answer- some weekends make this
break worthwhile, while others make the week look like cake that you
just shit out all over some cake motherfucker's shoes. will this
weekend be worthy of such a week: i, for one, hope so.
October 26th, 2002 Saturday
Dear Diary,
Cari lets get married!
October 27th, 2002 Sunday
Dear Diary,
Mary let's get carried!
October 28th, 2002 Monday
Dear Diary,
To day i was brushing my teeth and anylyzing my stupidity, I guess i
figured someone else would do it, I thought to be what would make up
for my lazy manners which cause my stupidity, that and a whole lot of
drugs--man does it smell like poop in here? Is that a pube on my table?
October 29th, 2002 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
barfola!
November 3rd, 2002 Sunday
Dear Diary,
Humongous dark clouds have been hanging overhead most of the day
today.
November 6th, 2002 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
i think reed has been entering things into the diary. maybe we can
reinforce the special trick that made all of tesla's thoughts appear
on his cell phone. just a thought.
November 7th, 2002 Thursday
Dear Diary,
Which one(s) do you think are his?
November 7th, 2002 Thursday
Dear Diary,
ALL OF THEM, I"M GOING INSANE!
November 8th, 2002 Friday
Dear Diary,
i propose that no one uses you anymore because you're stupid and
nobody likes you around the office. so kill yourself you fucking
ball licker.
November 17th, 2002 Sunday
Dear Diary,
i'm sorry, baby, you know i didn't mean that, you know i'm just
playin'
baby?
November 17th, 2002 Sunday
Dear Diary,
it's my birthday, baby!
November 19th, 2002 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
my god am so wasted . i smaehed a pumpkin and it was delightful. i
drank many shots of jack daniels and it was wonderful/ who's birthday
is it? i honestly dont know. i feel somewhat bad for not knowing, but
i still want to know . please dont say it is sim0ns . i love him and
it would be sad if i did not know. my god i i am drunk. and i cant
go to sleep because i think i will throw up. and i dont have any weed
so thats not helping a bit. jesus, how did i get so wasted. probably
from all the shots of jack daniels i took. man iwish i was at the
strokes show, ad becks show. oh fuck how m i going to survive
tonight, especiallly because i have lab at 9 in the morning
tommmorrow. but everyone wanted me to stay up for the meteor shoewer
that happenes only once every 150 years so if i miss it tonight ill
never see it again unless i live to be 170 years old which is
unlikely so im shit out of luck. only i already saw afew meteord in
the sky .
November 19th, 2002 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
backaagain. did i mention i was really wasted? well, lets talk a bit.
i read an aristophones play tonight. is socratakes a sohipst? i
havent turned in my lab paper so i hope im not fuckeed when my don
rag ahappens thatsd
November 19th, 2002 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
did i mention how much i want to get high? don ttell anyone lilke my
brother because thatwould be bad. im about to hit the resin. i know
there are some of you out there who have to be comapssionate. i love
the resin, but im wondering how much it will yeild. cari, simon,
kevin, i love you all. jabvi too but he knows that. stevie too , and
everyoiine back in austin, my home. i love austin, i used to want to
get awauy from it but now i realize i love it. i tried to leave the
party but they wouldnt let me. mike kept saying that i needed to stay
to watch the meteor shower and stay up late. but i am so hungry i
think that the sooner i go to bed the sooner i will get breakfast,
whichi love i and hate at the same time. i love showers too, but i
dont hate them.
November 19th, 2002 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
lets talk some more. ive decided towatch a couple of episodes of the
simpsons, my favorite show of all time. i love that show. i have
almost 30 episodes now. i still haven hit the resin..i am very
doubtful anything willl come of it. please diary, save me from my
self. i am going to die;. please hepl me to recover to my old self.
but where does that old self coime from? i ahte recover so much,
god . and i font even know qhat ehyare doing
/
November 19th, 2002 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
yes! so far it has yielded one bountiful hit. am i am watching the
simpsons so i am happy all around. please someone write so i can
read. i love to read about you all. i am
November 19th, 2002 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
burned myself twice on the lightbulb already, but its so
warm...simpsons haloween episode x
November 19th, 2002 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
i just got back from the bathroom where som guy was washing his naked
body,. i went and took a piss, but couldnt keep form wondering: why
the curtain? i diidnt flush either!
November 19th, 2002 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
or a better question would be how to fight loneliness
November 20th, 2002 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
on the other side of the spectrum this is all happening in austin:
today i woke up to a knockingon my door- it was teresa. well, it was
fedex and the dude was nice to me and handed me the videos completed
from ny. i then went to school and drew some cool notebook shit-
maybe some of my best work yet. here's an excerpt: electric gates
that shock dogs on the nexk through their collars, forks falling from
rain clouds, dotted i's dancing with nooses who want to choke and
kill the dots, microscopic shards of teeth that flutter like flurries
of snow as my jaw clenches and grinds, satellites blocked by foggy
milk, mountains of clouds with shining metal teeth devouring pupy
dogs, dead skin freshly pulled from my bloody finger, throw up in the
form of jello. we're going to yellowstone on a caravan of elephants.
November 20th, 2002 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
that nonsense sums up the type of day around here in austin. i think
people everywhere are feeling this madness. statistically it's
proven that more people go insane during a full moon and that moon is
just that. so i'm just trying not to lose my mind during this
crowded disaster. it's not working unfortunately, my mind staying
sane, nope; it left earlier yesterday and has been riding the metro
around town looking for the nearest 7-11. there are 300 fucking cd's
in my room and i think the inserts will be here soon, then they'll
all be done. and that's when i get to pile them up and stomp all over
them! i find love in this chaos, i also find love in destruction,
stink, messes on the floor, saying"fucka stain," drawing onm the
wall, the feeling of complete insanity and order in the midst of this
foggy milk, pissing in parking garages, spray painting glue on
buildings to post up flyers and getting a quick high from it,
suggesting nonsense, singing the "you're gonna get sick" song (ex:
you're gonna get sick all over the floor sick, you're gonna get sick
all over the floor sick: get sick all over the, you're gonna floor
sick- get sick all over the, you're gonna floor sick)
November 20th, 2002 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
DAMN THAT SONG!!!!!
November 22th, 2002 Friday
Dear Diary,
hello my name is simon. and i like to do drawings. drawings of my
parents and drawings of my family. sometimes i draw large bridges
that connect adjacent continents, and other times i just draw clouds
and trees with little gnomes in them. i like to draw mosquitos and
i loke to eat burritos. i'll eat them over taquitos, but i'll never
pass up on taquitos. i wish i had a ham sandwich, because then i'd
drink some milk with it. and i'd draw a picture afterwards about a
hippopotamus party. you see larry hippo is turning 40 so he's going
to have a big birthday party. and the ducks came with lots of 40's
and i'm going to get in a fight with cory. so goodbye my name is
simon and i like to tell stories.
December 1st, 2002 Sunday
Dear Diary,
hello my name is renato and i like to kill amphibians. in one small
destructive movement, i will crush a frog's little body. and i'll
love to destroy your little tadpole, so that it someday he won't grow
up and be a toad. i have stopped paying all attention, except for
those cute little amphibians. and i want to kill each and ever one
of them and i like to feed them to canines. well hello there little
toadling, do you know i'm going to kill you now? please don't try
and make this more difficult, than we know it already will have to
be. i will strike down with intense force, and your tiny organs will
splatter everywhere. and your deep red blood will drain, all over my
dining room carpet. ha ha ha, ha ha, ha ha, ha. i will feed you to
the doberman now, and it will vomit on your front doorstep and a
chewed up dismembered amphibian will appear in absolute liquid form.
so goodbye my name is renato and i like to eat gelato.
December 4th, 2002 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
i wish it was summer. this weather makes me unfit for
hapiness.
December 4th, 2002 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
happiness?
December 6th, 2002 Friday
Dear Diary,
It's a warm gun, you know.
December 8th, 2002 Sunday
Dear Diary,
children are delicious
December 10th, 2002 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
It's true you know, and I would know.
Guess who!
December 11th, 2002 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
Jonathan Swift
December 13th, 2002 Friday
Dear Diary,
FRIDAY THE 13th- Do The Humpty Hump
December 17th, 2002 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
Oh Diary!, I weep today for I have been fired. Woe is me!
December 20th, 2002 Friday
Dear Diary,
oh diary, everyone will hate me after they read the last email. oh
well, i hate everyone anyway.
January 7th, 2003 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
today baby colby and javi went for a stroll through the park. colby
ate a "hangabur" (as he calls it) and javi drank 4 "happy juices"
(what he calls beer). they left around 12 and i waited for them to
come back for 2 whole hours. after realizing something wasn't
normal, i set out on foot to look after them and discover what the
problem was. i ran to the park in under 4 minutes because i was so
worried about my special little guys. as soon as i showed up,
though, i scanned the park quickly only to see little baby colby and
sweet little javi all tuckered out underneath a tree. they were
hugging and napping at the same time. i should've figured that those
two would just end up getting all worn out and would need a nap. how
cute, i thought. i sat and watched them sleep for about 3 hours.
when they woke up we all laughed about the silliness of getting
worried sick over their shananigans. i just shook my finger with a
half grin on my face and tole them, "I'm very mad at ooo!"
January 7th, 2003 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
today baby colby and javi went for a stroll through the park. colby
ate a "hangabur" (as he calls it) and javi drank 4 "happy juices"
(what he calls beer). they left around 12 and i waited for them to
come back for 2 whole hours. after realizing something wasn't
normal, i set out on foot to look after them and discover what the
problem was. i ran to the park in under 4 minutes because i was so
worried about my special little guys. as soon as i showed up,
though, i scanned the park quickly only to see little baby colby and
sweet little javi all tuckered out underneath a tree. they were
hugging and napping at the same time. i should've figured that those
two would just end up getting all worn out and would need a nap. how
cute, i thought. i sat and watched them sleep for about 3 hours.
when they woke up we all laughed about the silliness of getting
worried sick over their shananigans. i just shook my finger with a
half grin on my face and told them, "i'm vewy mad at ooo!"
January 9th, 2003 Thursday
Dear Diary,
Today my friend John was writing about me. He said that my gorgeous
mane of black hair is far too sexy for my own good, and I should cut
it before it causes more envy among my fellow bandmates. Boy I am a
handsome devil, aren't I? Enough of that though. I don't want to get
started on one of my egotistical rants again. But...He did say I
looked like a young John Cusak, I wonder what he meant by that. Is he
refering to Sixteen Candles John Cusak or The Grifters John Cusak? I
prefer Stand By Me, myself. Do I really look like that? Is he
implying that I act like Cusak, too? We definately share the same
boyish good looks, but personality, too? Well, we're both famous: I'm
the captain of rock and roll cruise boat Fozlur, he's one of
Hollywood's most beloved leading men; we're both multi-talented: I'm
a singer, songwriter, musician, he's an actor, writer, producer. But
Cusak doesn't have shit on me! When was the last time Cusak
performed infront of a crowd of 50?! When was the last time Cusak had
to fight off 50 screaming monkey's on the way to his car?....No
answer Cusak?! You know how the old chili commercial goes, then: Well
that's to long, sucker! Fuck you Cusak! You're shit, you hear me! Not
THE shit, just SHIT. Why do you always have to be the funnnyman? The
center of attention? Big Mr. Johnny Boy. Oooo, look at me, I'm John
Cusak, I've been in over 34 movies including the 1997 blockbuster Con
Air! Look at me! I"M JOHN FUCKING CUSAK!
January 9th, 2003 Thursday
Dear Diary,
Today my friend John was writing about me. He said that my gorgeous
mane of black hair is far too sexy for my own good, and I should cut
it before it causes more envy among my fellow bandmates. Boy I am a
handsome devil, aren't I? Enough of that though. I don't want to get
started on one of my egotistical rants again. But...He did say I
looked like a young John Cusak, I wonder what he meant by that. Is he
refering to Sixteen Candles John Cusak or The Grifters John Cusak? I
prefer Stand By Me, myself. Do I really look like that? Is he
implying that I act like Cusak, too? We definately share the same
boyish good looks, but personality, too? Well, we're both famous: I'm
the captain of rock and roll cruise boat Fozlur, he's one of
Hollywood's most beloved leading men; we're both multi-talented: I'm
a singer, songwriter, musician, he's an actor, writer, producer. But
Cusak doesn't have shit on me! When was the last time Cusak
performed infront of a crowd of 50?! When was the last time Cusak had
to fight off 50 screaming monkey's on the way to his car?....No
answer Cusak?! You know how the old chili commercial goes, then: Well
that's to long, sucker! Fuck you Cusak! You're shit, you hear me! Not
THE shit, just SHIT. Why do you always have to be the funnnyman? The
center of attention? Big Mr. Johnny Boy. Oooo, look at me, I'm John
Cusak, I've been in over 34 movies including the 1997 blockbuster Con
Air! Look at me! I"M JOHN FUCKING CUSAK!
January 13th, 2003 Monday
Dear Diary,
i dawned on the fact that fozlur is the most handsome bunch of
youngsters i've met in my many days as a beutiful person and this
only leads me to beleive one thing... no one comes to our shows to
listen to our music. they only desire the sight of our fine tuned
physiques and chiseled features.
if this weren't the absolute truth people would dance around more.
god, it's hard being gorgeous
January 22th, 2003 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
I found lucy finally. thank you nola youre so beautiful. though my
friend went crazy and the cops found him and he went to the hospital,
showed a iv in him made him drink charcol and showed a catheter up his
dick, when they inserted the catheter it made him freak out so bad
that the blood vessels in his eyes popped. but im more sane today
than i have been in the last few years, the cid free days are finnally
over.
January 22th, 2003 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
i just realized that i cant spell shove
January 22th, 2003 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
man, tell me about it- i'm just trying to quit sniffing dry/erase
markers! and those days are over...tomorrow.
January 24th, 2003 Friday
Dear Diary,
holy fucking shit... it's happening all over again. better watch my
ass.
note to self: watch your ass
January 25th, 2003 Saturday
Dear Diary,
i wish simon would mail me some of that shit... maybe it'll make me
sane again too. doubtful, no longer salvagable. besides, god only
knows what crazy shit i would scheme up. aw fuck it, mail it anyway.
January 26th, 2003 Sunday
Dear Diary,
my prediction for the super bowl:
fozlur will have their own commercial featuring a real live
brontosaurus and we will all be riding it, laughing and singing "here
comes the sun." and the oakland raiders will defeat tampa bay only
because we donated the brontosaurus and fed them bronto-burgers
during halftime (secretly lacing them with lsd). the raiders will
freak out because they ate a real dinosaur and will play like these
are their last hours to live. then we'll call snoop dogg up (who
doesn't smoke ganj anymore) and tell him the horrible situation.
snoop, being a huge raiders fan, will call the general manager in his
press box and demand that he call a timeout so that every raider and
raiderette can huddle into the locker room for one last team
meeting. upon arrival, snoop, his homies, the foz and tommy chong
will have prepared the locker room with billowing clouds of ganj
smoke. after forcing the aroma on the raider team, they will
completely chill, get their heads together, and steal the game away
from tampa bay. raiders win, but only thanks to 1. the bronto
burgers 2. snoop and his super dank 3. the raiderettes (who started
gettin freaky in the locker room upon snoop's command) and 4. the foz
man oh man, im so very excited to show all 'em folk what we're made
of. we're gonna blow sxsw away. because we are beautiful, smart, and
when it comes to our supirior musical talent nobody can come close to
us not even with a 50 ft. pole. seriously though remember this,
FOZLUR ALWAYS WINS. its the truth, everytime someone thinks we suck
or we changed our sound too much we show them up. soon we will be
sitting in hot tubs surrounded by hot women drinking champagne and
heineken and rolling the nicest herb into the fattest blunts ever. i
don't tink ill be able to sleep until sxsw. man im far too hyper. ill
stop being inftuated with ourselves.
January 29th, 2003 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
white or wheat? one small portion turkey, two slices ham, two slices
bacon, three slices cheese. would you like lettuce tomato and onion?
how 'bout pepper and thundersauce? chips and a drink with that? enjoy.
January 29th, 2003 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
those are words to live by
January 30th, 2003 Thursday
Dear Diary,
okay, back to being infatuated with ourselves: first, i'm going to
get a big blue tattoo of a waffle on my left hand..fresh. then, i'm
going to sleeve up my arms with something real hot, and then, of
course, the hot tub scenario that was explained earlier. and then
for the studio! it will be fozlur headquarters, like when pfunk used
to run their studio...music will be created at all hours of the day
and night, ideas will be actualized and right there at our
fingertips. maybe we'll just buy tequila mockingbird, that sounds
like a good plan. the best part will be headlining huge
extravaganzas, though. on that note, we'll have to have multiple
austin music network benefits around town so that they can move to
the airport finally and get their shit permanent. we'll have to
bring back the oblong boys and the zom zom's because they're the only
ones in austin holding it down for zolo music...and then we can
actually get a "community of music" started; one that doesn't suck at
least. oh the possibilities, i can't wait.
January 30th, 2003 Thursday
Dear Diary,
Recently I've been practicing how to be a rock star. I play my guitar
alot,till my fingers bleed, I yell at old people, I stand on my bed
and imagine them being mashall stack, I drink Wiskey for breakfast and
gasoline for lunch. Sometimes I jump off my bed stait onto the ground
face first and enjoy. i worship satan and smoke out hookers with
crack. I got myself tatioos of women with big tits and demons of
death. Maybe i should just study business
February 4th, 2003 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
i'm about to go to class; i'm about to go to class. this morning
when i woke, i burned a little grass; and then i went to class. this
morning when i woke, my throat began to choke; this morning when i
drove; this morning when i quove. slassy slass class; slassy slassy
classy. massy nass nass; massy nassy nassy. nasty nasty casty;
gastly nasty sassy. i drank a bottle of coke; i ate an avacado
sandwich; i wrote a little note. i road a little boat; i drank some
more of my coke. my throat hurts like sandpaper. time for class!
February 6th, 2003 Thursday
Dear Diary,
20/20 showed this documentary of michael jackson, some reporter hung
out with him for like 8 months and infiltrated his habits and thought
process. what's funny is that in the end they just realized that
he's even weirder than they thought...i don't get what they expected,
though. that's like trying to make sense out of warhol: they're both
eccentric, asexual geniuses that find pleasure in peculiar things.
it's easy to pass off jackson as a petaphile or to pass off andy as a
homosexual, but that's not the complete truth. jackson has
supposedly used plastic surgery to make his face look like peter pan,
and his ranch is called never never land...he wants to live forever
and he wants to live like a child. what's parallel to andy, though
is his perception of the media; his son, prince, has to wear a mask
in public and has to deal with the constant insanity of paparazzi.
these kids will NEVER EVER know what it is like to be normal, they
are superstars already and they'll be superstars forever; they'll
live in never never land until they're old enough to leave it, but if
they've been raised with it for so long, i'm not so sure they'll
choose to leave it. michael is using these kids as a medium just
like andy used people as a medium (i.e. nico). they're both
visionaries, so of course we have no idea what the fuck he's doing,
it looks weird and, as some would quickly say, criminal but i would
bet this will make more sense when prince jackson is the next big pop
star once michael is old and withered; unless, of course, they find
some way to make him live forever and god knows he'd have the money
and resources to be the first to actually do something so ludicrous.
February 8th, 2003 Saturday
Dear Diary,
michael jackson is my hero! from now on i'm wearing one
sparkly glove and bleaching my skin white.
February 13th, 2003 Thursday
Dear Diary,
let me count the ways: one, two, ah-three....three; it takes three
licks to get to the center of a drunken pirate, oh how i will fuck
valentine's day tomorrow with mass destruction and the theft of
precious booty!
February 13th, 2003 Thursday
Dear Diary,
let me count the ways: one, two, ah-three....three; it takes three
licks to get to the center of a drunken pirate, oh how i will fuck
valentine's day tomorrow with mass destruction and the theft of
precious booty!
February 13th, 2003 Thursday
Dear Diary,
Oh diary, looks like another lonely valantines day for me. Good thing
i have a bottle of liquor to keep me company while i cry into my
pillow. Then again, going on a date with one of these bitchy stunts
wouldn't be much better. This settles it... I'm goin' gay!
February 13th, 2003 Thursday
Dear Diary,
Oh diary, looks like another lonely valantines day for me. Good thing
i have a bottle of liquor to keep me company while i cry into my
pillow. Then again, going on a date with one of these bitchy stunts
wouldn't be much better. This settles it... I'm goin' gay!
February 18th, 2003 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
mmmm, i'm starting to get into the javi diet: grilled chicken and
beer. lots of beer; but i'm mixing that with the biggs diet: herbs.
it works out in the end because i have a george foreman grill and
that grill is saving my life (literally, because i would die if i
stopped eating and george foreman keeps encouraging me to grill more
and more chicken and it's damned good).
February 19th, 2003 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
I was taking a walk in the park and felt tired so I sat down at a
nearby picnic table. The picnic table was in the middle of a large
field and all around me were park goers enjoying the warm sunday. i
noticed that a Victoria's Secret magazine lay infront of me on the
table top. It was the new issue. I looked around me to see if anyone
was watching. A father and his son were flying a kite right behind
me. The father was telling the son how he shouldnt let the string
become too slack, but the son didnt seem to be listening. I looked
back at the magazine. The cover showed a dark, brunette woman wearing
a lace nightie lying belly down on a bed. Next to her in cursive
writing read: "Sexy Lingerie." I could only imagine what kinds of
provacative images lay waiting inside. So I did; I closed my eyes and
fantasized, but it was hard with all the kids around. Why couldn't I
just open the magazine and take a look? Something was holding me
back; you might say it was my sense of shame. I resolved not to open
it, and decided that I should get back to my walk. Just as I had
decided this, a gust of wind came rolling over the field. The boy
with the kite made an excited yell. The front two pages of the
Victoria's Secret magazine blew open and my eyes met with delicous
looking blonde modeling a red over-sized V.S. Tee. I couldn't help
but stare. And right as i was getting a good look, a mom with her two
kids walked close by me. I looked up and the mom said in a bitchy
soprano, "You should be ashamed of yourself, you pervert," and
stormed off, dragging her two kids behind her.
February 20th, 2003 Thursday
Dear Diary,
this is my secret confession of my love affair with the cat:
our eyes met during the hot hot summer and i knew this cat was
something special, she was fat and fluffy and cross-eyed and lazy and
she was always eating and she started flirting with me big time. we
passed in the hall daily and sometimes i stopped to pet her and
sometimes i didn't, and then one day i pet her for a while and sweet
talked her some and as i was deciding to walk upstairs to my
apartment, she started following me and getting in front of me,
blocking me from moving ahead unless i pet her. i shooed her away
but she followed me to the door and walked right up to it as i
unlocked it with my key. i politely told her she was not invited in
my house and we had to end this right here: right now. so i shooed
her and slammed the door in her pouty little face, the poor baby.
today, as i pulled into my complex and left the car with my arms full
of clean laundry, i headed for the stairs. but laying right in the
middle of the stairs was miss pretty kitty. i was taken back by how
cute this little scene was because i had caught her relaxing on the
stairs in the middle of the walkway obstructing traffic like anna
nicole laying in a sidewalk of new york, but it wasn't until later
that i realized she had been waiting for me all this time; she heard
my car pull up and she got in my way to spite me. at the moment,
though, i just thought it was adorable, so i reached down to pet her
and sweet talk her a little and she lurched for my hand and hissed.
i jumped back and almost fell down the stairs, but she kept going up
the stairs. so i continued towards her because i had to get to my
apartment; as i walked behind her, though, she would stop and turn
around and hiss at me; she did it twice, so i shooed at her and she
came at me again! that little bitch! i don't what her deal is but
it is so uncomfortable now when we see eachother in the hallway.
February 23th, 2003 Sunday
Dear Diary,
today i woke up to a wonderful day. there was a slight breeze, no
clouds, and mild temperature. so me and the gang decide to go get
some yummy poboys down town a wee bit. it was a bout a three mile
walk. we were just minding our own business untill these fucking
bastard thugz punched me and my friend in the face, just outta
nowhere, they nearly broke my friends jaw and i have an imprint of a
ring on my fucking neck. all i could do is keep walking, there was
no way we (four scronny white boys) wanted (more speciffically could)
to brawl with 5 guys three times our size. they would have made us
eat shit. so basically im a poon, but from now on im looking out for
loose opunches goin for my face at all times.
February 24th, 2003 Monday
Dear Diary,
I'm a secret kind of madman.
February 26th, 2003 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
i didn't have to go to school yesterday because it was icing and
everyone in austin was freaking out again. it was snowy and icy and
winterwonderland all fucking day long; and i had to walk around
because i couldn't drive my car, and i was slipping and falling on my
ass everywhere. i turned on the news and some guy had a breakthrough
and was saying to go out and buy sandpaper with a sticky back and
stick it on your shoes so you can walk on the ice! what a fucking
moron! and he was acting like he was the first one to ever come up
with that idea! we ran into sam and jeffe (sam's friend from ny) and
ate pizza together, and sam and jeffe were on a fast so they hadn't
eaten a normal sized meal in a while and they REALLY enjoyed the
pizza. and i did too! and to simon: sam may get us a gig at the
russian/mediterranean tea house. that could be very very
interesting; there are belly dancers and hookahs! we'll see. well,
i'm trying to stay warm and fend off all of those damned roaches that
like to come out and surprise me and then they have to die; i really
don't want to kill them but i'm just so scared, so very scared.
roaches they can't hurt you, roaches they can't hurt you.
February 26th, 2003 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
Today I had an intemate moment with a cockroach. They are the most
beautiful animal in this world. How could a person have so much
animosity towards such a creature? All roaches want to do is eat
your food and snuggle in your bed with you.
February 27th, 2003 Thursday
Dear Diary,
I began this poem in lab class this morning, and I just had to share
Perhaps you could finish it for me...
Down at the water's edge we sat side by side,
You my darling, my virgin Bride,
And I,
The withered bird
February 27th, 2003 Thursday
Dear Diary,
i've got it:
down at the water's edge we sat side by side,
you my darling, my virgin bride,
and I,
the withered bird,
leaned towards you gently with a whisper left unheard,
and close behind came mean Mr. McGee,
with his long striped socks coming up to the knee,
he kicked me in the groin and yelled,
"I'll get you, Pompey! GO TO HELL!"
"You never will!" i yelled right back,
and off he went with my woman and crack!
March 6th, 2003 Thursday
Dear Diary,
mmmm...i'm eating mint mentos and drinking vanilla coke...mmmm
mmmm...i sucked a big tasty slurp of mint and then dreank it...mmmm
mmmm...i just thought about delicious burger patty dipped in
butter...mmmm
mmmm...i'm thinking about cheese an d schnitzel and kraut together
forever...mmmm
March 7th, 2003 Friday
Dear Diary,
I really couldn't tell you why, but recently i really want to get
really injure. Prefrably no broken bones, just a geood flesh wound
like a good fat stab in the arm or leg, or even my stomach. I dont
care how much it would hurt really, it might be because ive been
reading jonny the homicidal maniac (its a funny comic where this guy
nny just kills a bunch of people and talks to toys, which end up
killing him). anyway if anyones up for a good fight im definatly
there. but have to be bigger than me because it wouldn't be fun if
i won. I think i just miss being beat up as a little kid by my big
brother. but i think the remide for this urge would be a good
fight. I think i owe havy a good fight anyway, and he sure as hell
would pound me into the ground.
March 8th, 2003 Saturday
Dear Diary,
YEEE HAW!! i smell a fight a brewing: javi and simon; doin the tango
of pain! just make sure it's on stage!
March 8th, 2003 Saturday
Dear Diary,
YOU FUCKING WHORE!!
March 8th, 2003 Saturday
Dear Diary,
Look out! The saints are coming through...
March 11th, 2003 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
hey fozlur, go pass out flyers! hey fozlur, play your old "better"
songs! hey fozlur, the more unorganized you are the "cooler" you
are! hey fozlur, get over yourselves! hey fozlur, kill yourselves!
hey fozlur, come back to life and play reunion shows! hey fozlur,
throw your equipment around like the trail of dead, they're from
austin and so are you, so start acting like it! hey fozlur, quit
passing out flyers, everyone is sick of looking at your name! hey
fozlur, you're not a real band if you all live in different states!
hey fozlur, you used to be cool until you stopped practicing, but
then you realized this and started practicing again, and now you're
even more uncool because it's not the same anymore! hey fozlur, go
suck an egg!
March 11th, 2003 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
i like adam's poem, i'm not fighting simon, we can just pick a fight
with a few bigger dude's, fozlur is the shit, no more school, it's
not bragging if it's true
March 12th, 2003 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
fozlur eats their own shit
March 19th, 2003 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
It's been a pretty good week, but this morning I woke up after having
dreamt about cutting off dog's feet. I thought it might have been a
sign. What will become of this fabulous fivesome? Will they fall
apart just like their band? Or will the end of one book lead to the
beginning of a brand new book, fresh and clean, with cool graphics on
the cover and really thick pages? Find out next week...
March 19th, 2003 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
march 19th, 2003:
FOZLUR IS DEAD
March 24th, 2003 Monday
Dear Diary,
oh diary
i've lost my way. i can no longer pretend to be friendly or
thoughtful. now the real me will terrorize the world. get ready
world. don't worry though, diary, the old me was just slightly more
predictable. see if you notice.
April 16th, 2003 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
barton springs is reopening this saturday, what a relief! marc katz
says that he's gonna cut funding to the austin music network: vote
leslie cochran for mayor, even though he never wins, just think what
would happen if he did, though! forget you ever heard the name
fozlur, and to the person who says that they're going to beat me
or "us" up bc we stopped the diary: go fuck yourself, my switchblade
is ready in one click! cut you up
April 23th, 2003 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
man why is it so hard to die? do you have to chop off the head of
everyone? may as well be aimless chickens i guess. kill=survive and
a lot of folk are still alive.
April 24th, 2003 Thursday
Dear Diary,
i figured it out. chopping the head off works. all you have to do is
have a large heavy peice of glass dropped on your neck. its totally
gnarly. i'll do it if you do.
April 25th, 2003 Friday
Dear Diary,
t v is telling me to kill
April 27th, 2003 Sunday
Dear Diary,
tv is killing me
May 4th, 2003 Sunday
Dear Diary,
tv is telling me to fuck another tv, but i just want to fuck my tv
May 9th, 2003 Friday
Dear Diary,
I LOVE ME
May 11th, 2003 Sunday
Dear Diary,
ouch! my genitals hurt!
June 9th, 2003 Monday
Dear Diary,
can everything be stricken from the record?
June 11th, 2003 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
consider it done
conisder it doen
July 10th, 2003 Thursday
Dear Diary,
Yesterday love was such an easy game to play. And now I feel I've
lost my way. Where have you gone yesterday?
But now the slippery dew comes rolling through, changing hues of
orange to blue. The summer breeze dies from the limbs of the trees.
The summer is lost in february frost. The bleakness is heard from the
beak of a bird.
At least once during this tumbling day my mind turns your way; not
easily forgot are your ways. My foolish mind creates a scene,
remembering naps on fields of green; now no such fields are seen.
And the cold comes creaking in, like a rusty hinge swung wide open.
July 29th, 2003 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
fuck those who mistake melodrama for creativity
July 30th, 2003 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
like who, diary?
July 31th, 2003 Thursday
Dear Diary,
or whomever, melodrama which is claimed to be art is a product which
is made to comform to a certain broad emotion. this emotion which
truly has not been grasped by the creator, is synthesized for motives
such as greed or accemptance and what not, to adhere to the concept
of the emotional ideal which he is trying to artificially express.
basically the misguided creator is trying to arrive at a product
which he finds pleasing in a certain aspect which he does not really
posses. the rococco period is a good example of this. of course
this is only an opinion and stems from my hate for shit like creed or
puddle of mud and such shit holes.
The website appears to be back up. Kahloo-kahlay, oh frabjous day.
Yar. Arr!
October 31th, 2003 Friday
Dear Diary,
Survey:
Should old people be allowed on earth?
Old people have been the subject of much debate throughout the
history of the world. Where did they come from? What are they good
for. And, Do we really need them around? Write an short essay
explaining your position on whether or not "Old people should be
allowed on planet Earth." Give at least three advantages. (Don't
forget to bring up a point from the opposing side.)
October 31th, 2003 Friday
Dear Diary,
alright.
old fucks is wwhat wes talkin bout. now the way i ses it they good
for much things such as adidas. what would do with our ir. wed have
old folk roamin roun free. shoe making is a skilled task and cant be
done by some wierd machine. either way old folks need to undersand
that they're ooutta their lege. blah, i wish i got head from tha
girl at the party. fuck old folk they wate their votes on decrepid
old ideals which will never actualize. et them rot. i want m y
power now and not succumb to some i vote because im old thing which
really is the catalist for vicory really in this sence. that is bush
is no winner by anyones standards.
November 14th, 2003 Friday
Dear Diary,
You, you, you, and you, my office, big trouble, no nonsense. Could
you move any slower? Wrong way, hey! Get back! "Hands up, under
arrest." Expelled! Big disappointment. Kids in jail, is there
anything sadder? Back to work for me, hey you there! Get over here!
Oh, already dead, what a waste. Could've been in jail.
November 18th, 2003 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
Charming day today. In the morning, I ate rumpleberry tarts with
Marta and then talked fall fashion with Wilhelm. For lunch I took
Rumpleberry (the horse) out riding in the meadow, with little Mittens
boucing along behind us. We stopped under a sycamore tree for a
picnic in the noonday sun. I bought a cucumber sandwich from the man
behind the tree, and biscuits for Rumpleberry. Mittens ate grass.
When we got back home it was already time for tea. Marmy and Papoli
were seated at the table in the garden, with Sister Susy playing in
the sunflowers. I quickly threw off my riding boots, ran upstairs to
my room, took a shot of Wild Turkey, and joined the others for tea.
Marmy told the story of her trip to town, and the people she saw
there. Papoli stared off into the distance, smiling lightly at the
appropriate times. Sister Susy had picked a bouquet and was now
presenting it to Papoli with little outstretched arms. His vacant
look did not change, and Sister Susy got louder, demanding that her
bouquet be accepted. She tugged on his pants and called his name. In
an instant Papoli came back to life and slapped Sister Susy hard
across the face. She dropped the bouquet and began crying loudly.
Papoli stared at her with narrowed eyes. Marmy and I sat still,
shocked and terrified. After a moment, Papoli stood up and walked
back inside. Marmy ran over to Sister Susy and cradled her in
trembling arms. I got up and followed Papoli. I went through the
front door that leads to the living room and immediately saw Papoli,
covered in dark shadows, sitting still in a rocking chair next to the
empty fireplace. His eyes were fixed to the floor. In his hand was a
bottle of Wild Turkey, not mine, but a different one. After about a
minute, he raised the bottle to his lips and drank heavily. Without
saying anything, he raised the bottle in my direction. I walked
slowly across the room and accepted the bottle. I sat on the floor
next to him and finished the bottle. It was a lovely bonding
experience. Now Papoli and I are closer than ever!
February 16th, 2004 Monday
Dear Diary,
I am beginning to understand that change does not come overnight; it
happens slowly; so slowly that you do not even notice. If one could
take a vacation from oneself, only after five years would the changes
be noticeable, even suprising, like a grandma's suprise at your ever-
changing height. But from one day to the next nothing seems
different. Life stays predictably normal.
April 28th, 2004 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
A poopy dooby poopy in the booby of my butt,
With Ol King Tut in the poopy of my nut
Squirtin out the poopy from the hole in my butt
Take a little shower in the squishy poopy power
May 21th, 2004 Friday
Dear Diary,
Its not the same as it used to be,
its getting better all the time,
I wanna get to know you
and get a piece of your mind
I got a real naughty lady
she's a real nasty girl
I got a room in the folding chair
I got a real place to show
I got things to show you baby
I got a secret place
I want you to come with me
So you can see
Do you wanna see my toad?
He's a nice guy, too
I got him locked in a dungeon, baby
Do you want him to dance?
He'll spray you with poison, baby
So you better watch out
He's a real nasty baby, baby
Like you nasty too
I like you real nasty, baby
Like a real nasty girl
Like a nasty baby, baby
Baby, baby, baby, babe
With a mouth full of teeth
Take a bite of my apple, baby,
But make sure to not eat
Don't secrete any poison, baby
or get under my skin,
You a scarey baby, baby
You scare me outta my skin
October 1st, 2004 Friday
Dear Diary,
oktober first, isnt it the wurst?
November 4th, 2004 Thursday
Dear Diary,
November 3rd stinks like a turd
November 6th, 2004 Saturday
Dear Diary,
The squid are coming for me. I need to figure out how to stop them.
December 27th, 2004 Monday
Dear Diary,
jeery lee nolan and jeery lee lewis were heere
January 4th, 2005 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
sayin things funny just aint my cup
i aint tryin to knock you up
I GOTTA BE FRANK I GOTTA BE TRUE
I JUST WANT TO BE WITH YOU
i wanna lay down inside your bed
i wanna get inside your head
Tell me baby, TELL ME TRUE
WHAT DO YOU LIKE TO DO?
I like to watch movies with the lights on
I like to go to France and sit on their stools
I like to take a shower and then swim in the pool
The Pool! Oh the pool! where the sins are all cooled
In the quiet of the evening I will lay in the pool
But please forgive me if I don't wanna try
Say cheese or give me a reason why
I wanna go to Egypt and sleep in the crypt
I wanna get eddy and walk to the pit
March 8th, 2005 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
i never noticed the background was a shiele painting
May 17th, 2005 Tuesday
Dear Diary,
Today I managed to escape from my own room (strange to have to do
such a thing.) Ratty was easy to fool, I almost feel bad for it. I'm
chuckling just thinking about how Badger will take the news; oh! the
walloping he'll give Ratty! I was halfway to town before any of them
knew what was what. And pretty soon I'll be owning a new motorcar,
heading East to the coast. Until then (which should be by this
Thursday, if not sooner)I'm staying at a little Inn just outside of
town where I'll be safe from Badger and his gang. It's a comfortable
little place and I feel quite cozy here. I don't mind it at all
really, except that I'm getting anxious...
May 18th, 2005 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
it took you four years to notice that?!
August 1st, 2005 Monday
Dear Diary,
didnt always like schiele
September 7th, 2005 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
Hurricane Katrina devistated New Orleans a a few days ago, and now
millions of people are without homes, and thousands dead.
November 26th, 2005 Saturday
Dear Diary,
hey, this is like the bottom of the pit of a schiele painting...what an insane world it
has been, eh? i think there's someone putting up crazy messages about gambling,
designer drugs, sex stuff and other annoyances on the guestbook; but what can you
do? does it secretly piss you off? no, well, i don't mind, they're just kinda wasting
their own precious time, but i won't think twice and neither will kool and the gang.
so, is it that time yet? okay, i say, get out of that big brass coffin and cough out
yesteryear's phlegm, does it look like a bunny? well, put it up on the wall then.
aaaaaah, phoooey.
November 28th, 2005 Monday
Dear Diary,
yea, the guestbook is wild and out of control. i kind of like it,
though. let's pretend its on purpose. there is white snow outside
where i am.
July 15th, 2007 Sunday
Dear Diary,
wow, not much going on around here, eh? Well, time moves on of course,
lots has been happening out here. Diatribes in full effect as of july
2006, now a full year into it all. thought I'd make an entry here,
not sure why. in stevie's room, in the late evening, on Manchaca and
Stassney Beef House. Lady Bird died two days ago. Ladies (2) came
unexpected to our house this evening. Stevie was passed out, KEvin and
I were unprepared, yet cooking chicken and steak. Work tommorrow
morning, early, 4th session at camp. Probably moving out of here in
August, dispersing sadly. 80 or so more pages left of Moby Dick. A/c
just started working a couple of days ago, previously was several
weeks of terrible hotness; before that a month or more of unceasing
rain. Micah left to Houston yesterday morning, Marjan in tow, Phil,
Mom, Ian, Lara, Ava, Sam, Mariam, and myself accompanying them and
helping in the move. Might make a trip to Santa Fe before summer is
over. Will be starting school at Texas State in the fall; I'll believe
it when I see it, because the process to get into school has been long
and tedious, and I have yet to register for classes. Kevin and I are
both doing it, getting out teaching certificates. Javi and Joanna
still out of town in San Antonio. Javi and Joanna having a baby (news
released a month ago; they had already know for three months.) Mom
got married to Phil two weeks ago in Blanco to a crowd of old friends
and lots of family. Ian and Lara married two weeks prior to Mom and
Phil, one month ago; location was Zilker CLubhouse; insane last minute
preparations leading into a lively wedding that went by quickly; met
Marguerite. Correspondance continuing with John Cornell, several good
letters exchanged, growth and second thoughts abundant. Dungen's new
record came out recently, along with Clap Your Hands, BlondeRedhead...
-adam
july 15 2007
May 29th, 2008 Thursday
Dear Diary,
Update:
Fozlur reunites, practice begins next week stay tuned!
July 9th, 2008 Wednesday
Dear Diary,
pesticide voodoo, cold change still, black breeze blowin through.
inside this hot box I will tell no more lies, because i am right
behind my two frontward facing eyes. still, black little cube,
upside down worn out rejuvenated pancake batter seamtress ties in-
and this is the funnny part-side the right side of Kelly's car.
That belt was unbuckled years ago, let free to flap for any willing
side-kicker redneck boy unfulfilled and full of self pity. The face
takes up nearly the whole page, 3/4 profile. The top of the head is
and inch from the top of the page, and the bottom about 4 inches
from the bottom of the page.