Maps, motherfucker! I love me some maps! You don't believe me, but I do! You think I'm new to this? I have been collecting maps for years. I just made a map collage that measures 8X20 feet. 8X20 feet, motherfucker! I got WAY more maps than you! You cannot fuck with the maps I got, Platt Maps, Bus Maps, Bike Maps, I got all them shits, and some other ones I drew myself.
Music
Franks. Frank Black. Frank Sinatra. Frank Zappa. Frank Stallone.
The Donnas, Sonic Youth, Joy Division, Souixsie and the Banshees, Souixsie, dear sweet Souixsie, I just can't go on. I love you Souixsie, why don't you call me back?
Movies
The good ones:
Eraserhead. Naked Lunch. Go. Dogma. Hang Em' High. Spun. Butterfield 8. Fifth Element. Brazil. Baron von Munchhausen. [Sign me up for anything Terry Gilliam has done, and David Cronenberg, David Mammet, David Lynch, and Hal Hartley while you are asking]
Guilty pleasure: Species [I, and II, and III]
I like movies about con-men, authors, cheats and drugs, I don't know why I would have an affinity for these things.
Television
Books
Paul Auster, Paul Auster and Paul Fucking Auster! William S. Burroughs, Hunter S. Thompson, Grant Morrison, Neil Gaiman, Knut Hamson, Henry Miller, Haruki Murakami, and let's not forget my best friend: Dave Eggers
Heroes
Anyone willing to defend untenable points of view. When faced with the option of backing down, my hero pushes forward instead. Suffering is part of the game, not the fun part, but the part that makes fun possible. Avoid the suffering, and the risk of suffering, and you will manage to live out your days without feeling the agony of loss, and the joys of success.
About me: And in what and there is. Still Born Arms, or towers, some damp thing, I do remember. I live there, 30th floor, next to God, I like to say. I spend quite a bit time I spend quite a bit time there digesting, 50 with bright myself on my digesting. Even for might perch 300 feet in the air I recognize not a base, or the shape, but the manner which carry himself. He away of looking like he had a very heavy backpack on, even when he had none. Pizza. His really would chain,I spoke so infertility network the consensus was that I was either a deft mute or freshman even if he won the lottery work a lot of people I would never really convince myself that I knew him, he was just another bit player in the complicated extravaganza were laid about design to entertain and/or unknown to me. He did prick free of the troop in one small way, though, in that I had a thought about him which. Genuine emotion, your rare occurrence, indeed. I would see him network in, he smiles on the outside, free the in with an.
Who I'd like to meet: I wear a special boot that accommodates the fact that 1 of my legs is 5 inches shorter than the other.
I eat sunflower seeds constantly, so my breath smells like half digested nutmeat.
I am painfully shy and will not look you in the eye. I also mumble. Communication, for me, is a job left to the professionals. I live in a storage unit with all of my possessions. It is 21 feet from the railroad tracks, there is no electricity, no insulation, and needless to say, I am not supposed to live there. I am not big on comfort. The logic behind this situation seems obvious to me:,
I constructed a box, which is six feet long by two feet deep and wide, it has a lid. Around this box I have a layer of insulation, and another skin of wood to form the exterior. The inside is lined with red carpet, and this is where I sleep. The box serves a number of purposes, and all of them well. It is dark and quiet, like my soul
I am thinking about getting a light surgically implanted under my skin, possibly in my head, something nice, not too garish. Something to let everyone know that I will not harm them.
He had worn himself a path in the last eight months, and he generally stuck to it. Lying directly in the middle of the path ahead was a paper rectangle, which he immediately recognized as a photograph. His step quickened as he approached, he had a big box of pictures he had found on the ground, and it was all too infrequently, as far as he was concerned, that he got to add to it.
I am a simple man. My mind works on many levels, all of them very basic. The following is an exact recounting of my thoughts, in order, when I look at pictures of most women:
This is not a kiss…
This is a photograph. This is merely the reflection of whatever stray light happened to be moving directly toward the camera when the shutter opened.
This is the result of a chemical reaction. It captures a moment in time when a kiss was happening, it does not capture the kiss.
This is someone’s attempt at memory of what it is like to be kissed, or more likely, what it is like to see someone kiss.
This does not represent the breath exchanged, the moisture produced, or the forethought so often overlooked, the anticipation of a kiss, torture.
This is a poem, but invisible words cannot describe ones reaction to a kiss, much less the event itself. A kiss cannot be read aloud. A kiss happens in an instant and is then lost, it cannot be recovered, recalled, replicated, understood, or undone. Recollection is impossible, the mind is too small a cage to capture the enormity of such a beast. What is retained is the knowledge of kiss. A state of kiss exists, and we long to return. We retain the yearning. Revisit the lack of kiss anytime.
HEY JUST A QUICK NOTE TO SAY HI IT HAS BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE WE CHIT CHATTED AND I WAS LOOKING THROUGH MY COMMENTS ON MY BLOG AND NOTICED YOU HAD LEFT A FEW ON WHAT I HAD WRITTEN AND FIGURED I WOULD SAY HI..
sorry about the late drunken calls. you probably are thinking "he only calls when he's drunk." think of it more like that after i've consumed and obliterated every option of entertainment once ricocheting among the wall of my tilted skull, and after i've chemically sterilized every history infected zone of thought and memory, after all others have been swallowed and rinsed away from the dark neural pathways of my worn life, there you still stand. alive and strong. although often a little sleepy.
Would you believe I've been to your page a dozen times and only just now got the joke on the live 24 cam? So sad, must be the dullness of academia setting in with it's inherent inability to take a joke. aaacckk. Miss you, Amy
if i'm sober enough to remember i have fingers, i'll try again to call you sometime this weekend. sit tight and try not to too anxiously stare at your phone twiddling toes and thumbs.
(what makes this a comment and not a message is simply where it has been misposted)
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