You are on page 1of 238

-1Today I start as a professional writer. No more mistakes. No more screw-up. Just me and the page and the critics.

I write for pleasure only. Dont offer me any money, I wont take it. I write for you and I write for me. I write for the soul and I write to be. This is me this time. This is for real. Nothing can stop me from being who Ive chosen to become. I am an artisan. I create beautiful pieces of literature for free. This is my slavery, my masterpiece, my love, my life, my art. Without this art I am not free. Without my words I am a slave. Please understand who Ive chosen to become and let me show you how easily these words can really roll onto the screen.. I chose this profession when I was in the fourth grade. My teacher challenged my abilities enough so that it became clear that my writing career needed attention. I maintained this dream in middle school and on into high school. By college time I knew that I would become this writer thing. I went to the university of Iowa to look at their program. Supposedly the best in the nation. I wish to continue my studies there. It would be nice. With me, writing is a virtue. I cannot understand how I would live without the art of writing running through my veins. To me, not to write is a sin. This is all I have. This is who I am. Please, join me in celebrating the written word, as I continue my writing career for the four-thousandth time. This time, I will show you something special. I will show you something real. This time, I will show you no fear. This time, I am here for real. There is nothing to be afraid of and there is nothing to fear. Please allow me to demonstrate my talent. This is going to be a wild ride. his humor is dry and never banal. criticism I have received. Ignore it. But this is me. This is who Ive become. At 23, an accomplished young man with a whole lot to prove but with no one to prove it to. I have a whole world to search and many piles of money to gather. This is my soul. I seek the unknown, the forbidden, the adventure. I seek what it is that I want to see. Nothing less, nothing more. I will become this great adventurer that has to see these things to believe them. If these things are not seen, they will not survive. It is my duty to write them down. To transcribe real events into the written word. This is my life. Startingnow. So Im writing again. Big whoop. Trying to figure out some things with style. Trying to get into linguistics. Need an understanding of how I want words to work. Something like that. Hard to write. No comprende. No bueno en mas. Mi casa is muy bueno. Serially, not good things are happening. Not feeling this jam sesh write here. Need a publisher. Need an editor. Need cooperation. A literary agent. Somebody to get things off the ground. Into the sky. Into the air. Sky high. Made love in pool with some girl. corvette garage dr. Allahabad. Fucked her. Felt her titty. Rain and beach umbrellas. I will create my own reality. I will have beautiful wife, beautiful home, beautiful children, college education, great job, good pay, athleticism, talent, books, aquarium, fish, dogs, etc. there will be great things that I will have to achieve in my life. I will have lots of fun with my life. There will be many women to fornicate with. There will be a lot of beer to consume. Marijuana will land me in jail. I will have the time of my life. At least fifty times. This will happen. Again and again. Never ending. I will have lots of sex and make out sessions. I will drink lots of beer. My happiness levels will reach world record limits. I will play lots of basketball. I will learn how to cook. I will learn how to write better. I will find a publisher. I will sell a lot of books. I will do lots of amazing things. Amazement is my enemy. I will love the enemy as my self. God is my saviour. Not Jesus. Joseph Campbell books are best. Money is made rather easily. Paychecks are few and far between. College is a rip off. I will learn more. Et cetera. I will become a great thinker. A great statesman. A great figure in history. 1-26-11 Not much being done. Dropped out of school. Want to go back. Feel like Im homeless, poor, jobless, et cetera. Read. Ate. Pooped. Showered. My life is very depressing. This day could not have been any worse. Why did I drop out of UK? I want to go to uk again. WKU and u of l just dont sound good. I liked uk. Maybe tomorrow will be different.

1-27-11 Watched the last air bender. It was pretty bad ass. Had a dream that I was blacked out yet conscious. Stumbling through the halls of school. Ran to my Saturn with Patrick. Remember a dream where Cory was sculpting miniature buildings from a pink clay wardrobe. In a cave. He slept with some hot chick last night. Someone had a nice apartment. Not much else has happened. Zombies were all over the place. Max Brooks Zombie Survival Guide had been of no help. Kurt Kamin and his clan had to help out. I was surrounded. They overtook me. I had become a zombie. Or does that only work for vampires? Why do they both work in the same way? Philosophy plagues my mind. I ask the questions but I receive not answers. I want to go back to school but the work is hard. If only I could plan the perfect semester, then Id be back in business. However, I cannot. No one can. Its impossible. Straining just to type or write. Sun Tzu mentioned something in his Art of War about the strain of the state but I know nothing about it now. How to go about writing another book is the question. Or maybe this is my first one. Im not too impressed with the other first one. Its depressing. Not too edited either. Like, I want it to sell but then again I dont care for editing. I want someone else to do that for me. I mean, what is the meaning of all of this. I like to flow. Just not even think about what Im writing. Its a fun experience. Just typing. Just being annoying and so on. I wish I were an academic or a scholar. That way I would have something to say. But Im not. Im pitiful in these approaches. I want them to be perfect but I just cant afford to buy time like some people. I cant afford anything. A house, a car, a wife, anything. How did dad come across his fortune. How do these things assemble themselves? How am I to become a famous writer like I once wanted to be? These questions will remain unanswered for I know not the answer. Not immediately. I mean the question usually leads to the answer in a very wild and formidable way. Like what is the square root of 69. Plenty of people are answering that one. Or the answers on jeopardy. They are questioned. Wild game. To give answers in the form of questions. Id love to be on that show one day just to prove to em. But I cant. Im unable. Disabled. Cain and Abled. Haha. But at least Im stable. The end of my book was to talk about how Id end up insane (which I did), and now Im taking medicine for it. Crazy, right? But its no big deal, really. I mean, prophecy is still around us, we just have to be observant of the right facts. I mean, we drive vehicles down twisting roads, isnt that prophecy enough? To know how to handle the road ahead? Possibly not. I would love to write a movie but even this seems to have me in sort of a bind. Like, its just not comfortable. I cannot get this laptop situated the way that I want to get situated. Its annoying. Ive really got to try that method of writing my own story instead of trying to find a new one to read. Sounds interesting. But much more difficult than imagined. They say we model after the things that we love to have read or that basic stories and genres influence us. Im not sure what the hell is influencing me right now. Id say the catcher in the rye is a big influence since the man wrote exactly what he was thinking about. I hated that story. Such a bad ending. J.D. Salinger was just a knock off of somebody else. He brought nothing new to the table. But then again, Im a picky eater. Maybe Im the one to blame for my disinterest in catcher. Maybe I am. And then the zombies will take over and meet the vampires and then there will be anarchy in the Halloween genre of mythology. Toodle-oo. Dont come to me when ye need garlic or stakes or native Americans from Washington state. Or max brooks even. Or ori fienberg. Or kurt kamin. Or, best of all, andhi sticha. Youll need those guys. Theyll getcha. Theyll getcha good. See a lot of my writing is influenced by music. For example, the last sentence of the previous paragraph is from Shania twains Im gonna getcha good. and just like not spelling twain with a proper letter. I dont care. I want the reader to experience that. That non-care for proper letters. More for content then grammar. More for fluidity than correctness. Rebelliousness of the way it should be. Thats how I want it written. Rebelliousness. Revere, dammit. Coercion. How I loathe thee.

But here I am in bed trying to type up a damn masterpiece. Masterpiece. That word may as well plague my childrens children. Maybe. I really suck at writing. Theres not much more content for me to cover. I liked the part about zombies. See a lot of this goes back to the simpsons and king of the hill and stuff that really isnt literature. How do you think I feel trying to interpret my experience into literature from that of television and radio? Exactly. I feel 100% fantastic. Not really, but I mean, who cares, right? And whoever does care I hope he has an apple for whatever reason. But this is over. This writing session is over. Thought I could write like King (now theres a name worth capitalizing) but Im not. I cant just hack away thirty-five pages in a single day. Thats not me. I cant write query letters and be published. I just dont do that sort of thing. I dont know what to do. I mean, I want to be published and everything but I want it to be edited, marketed, and sold. Its evil, really. I mean all this typing isnt very fun now is it? And how the hell will I sell anything if Im not even willing to go through the entire process? Who knows? But the zombies. Yes, they are evil. They will eat your brains and suck your soul and send you sheoul. Or sheol. However they have it in the bible. Its not a good place. They used to curse in the old testament. Evil eyes and what not. But then comes a truly good supernatural being and like most things that exceed all expectations, they have to stabilize it. And in his case of worldly redemptive powers as opposed to the almighty Pontius pilate, they kill it. Except he isnt killed. Hes sacrificed. Hes born again. Its amazing. Protests in Egypt. Hard to forget these things. Not much happening in the U.S. We have other concerns. Like what happens when Obama is out? Or should Obama be elected for a second term? And if he does, what does this imply? If he doesnt what does that imply? Difficult scenarios. I want to copy george lucass idea of a great movie and make one of my own. I dont, however, know how to do it. So here goes. Umcant do it. Its already been done. So I dont know what I want to do now. Writing is fun. Thinking on the page. Trying to get things written down. What kinds of things would you like to have written? Im not sure. Nothing really. So it goes that I only need 10,000 hours to be a really successful writer. So if I put in 3 hours a day since I was 13 then Id be there by now. But no comprende. Not there yet. Not even organized. How the hell can I put 10,000 hours into writing? I hate writing. Its not even fun anymore. To Gloria, Ive always equated you to church and church music. Especially that one Christmas song. Anywho, youre gorgeous. Thats coming from one of my old friends (makes sense though, right? Gorgeous George?) Im just writing this to you because writing is my thing and to have not written a note of romance to this incredible specimen of the female regime is to insult my honour. I can never do these things right anymore. Not that Ive ever written a very good sort of letter like this. All I can think to say is that youre beautiful and a sight to behold. Weve had some moments but that was then. Ive matured. I expect little to nothing from this which makes me a charity writer. No, this is more of a write for good feelings. You mean something to me. As much as it pains me to say these things its worth some of the risk. Im a risk-taker. Sometimes reckless, sometimes calculated. But I know a good thing when I see it, and youre one of those things. So dont let your life go to waste. Dont let me drag you down into this pit that Im in. Ive already dropped out of school. Big whoop. I already feel like Steven Spielberg or Bill Gates. Though theyve more successful than I, they still inspire some of us college cant bes to be a little more than what we plan to be. What Im trying to say is that I really like to write and that its only fitting that I write to people. People like you. Because I care. And thats that. Shew, its tiresome figuring out how to spend the rest of your life. I know I will be working. I will be paying off student loans and trying to get a bachelors degree in something. Someday, somehow, some way. It will all be marvelous in the end, right? Who knows. The next real break comes when youre 60. Or older. Shew. I cant wait that long. Maybe the mid-life crisis will give me some time to think. Maybe. I wouldnt plan on it. I mean, I need a girl, I need a career, I want a college degree, et cetera. I know what I want I just have to get these things. Its that simple. Easier said than done. When is that the case. Southern sudan from

northern sudan. What a bad way. Needed it though. 98% vote. Who knew. Need to slow it down. Way down. Need a way to pay for studies. I want college but I dont want frustration. I cant handle these things anymore. What good is my life if this simple goal cannot be reached? Its not that hard even. I mean, its just college. Its important but come on, were supposed to be better off, not worse, right? I mean, what happened to the awesomeness of seeing my friends everyday? What happened to all the good things that used to happen? Why is my life in a shambles 24/7? Its Ellen. I miss her. Shes the light on my gloomy day. You know? What the heck? I need to type. I just need to write to develop a style rich in context and form. And so on. Et cetera. She said et cetera. Like it was some criminal maneuver. I swear. If I dont graduate from college, Ill be sick. I will be so irritated that it wont matter what I do. I mean it. I really want it. Just not yet. Its not for me yet. It wont be until Im like 26 or older. Its crazy. Its right there but I dont want it. What to do what to do. Hmm hmm. I dont know. I need some rhythm and flow. Something worthy of my writing. Something worth writing. Something that I need to have written down on paper. Yes? Maybe. No? so sorry. Besides, Im bored. I mean seriously Im so bored that theres no turning back. I can look forward to a beach trip but thats about it. I would like to transfer to either u of l or wku. Again. I know. Its bad. It just looks bad now. I mean, seriously. How the hell am I supposed to decide on what to do at this age. I mean, Im only 23. I dont have to do everything. Im not superman. Will I live long? I hope so. I hope that good things will come. I want the degree but Im so anxious. I cant do it. Its just not allowable. Its so difficult. Where are the skills I need to accomplish this task? Really? I was probably a C student in high school. I cheated. I plagiarized. I did everything I could to get those As. had to make it into college. Graduating from college was another story. How to graduate with a degree is the question. I dont know. Its something else. Very difficult to accomplish such and such anymore. How to become president. How to publish a book. How to get married. How to get a car. How to buy a home. Et ceteralike it was some criminal maneuver. Must write. Have to develop a new style. A new sound. Something that will entertain. Entertain. Buntain. Tain. Obtain. Contain. Sustain. Abstain. Et cetera. Like a g6. Bad ass song. Cant think. Writing is too difficult. Dont know what to do with all these writings. Need another shot at college. Again and again. And again and again. Must write. Love to write. Its my thing. Have to write. Tonite. Again. Rhyming isnt it. Rhyming and rhythm. Something about the rhy-. Catcher in the rye. Righteousness. High. Right. Height. Kite. Light. Might. Desire. Sigh. Tsai. Sire. Hired. Higher. Can you take me higher? Debbie, ellen. Love them both. Need each one. Cant have. Am I merely a suitor for either? Who knows. I mean, I love. Is there any reward in love? Is there any good that can come from empty love? Or wholesome love? What is love? How can it be used productively? If only I could write a love noteif only I could if only I would if only I were but Im not. So there. No really, I mean. but really. Is it really that bad? Yes, itsbut Im straight. Ok. But why is this bad. I dont know. Why are we here. Unsure. What is the meaning of life. I dont know. What is the meaning of two shoes on your feet? Hmmm? How about an easier question. What is the color of the sky? Blue? Really? Why not nails? Why cannot the sky be the color called nails. We just invented it. Yes wellI know its complicated butI see. Nails does not comply. It shouldve been orrange or purple but not nails. Hmm.. What does it mean to be defined in a sort of way that is not defined anymore by the way we are and the way we live but by the way we can process information in a way that is congruent to the way we speak to each other in a relevant sort of way. I mean Im really saying that we should be congruent to the hypotenuse of congruencies for the love of christ jesus amen. forever and ever amen. Im gonna love you forever and ever. Forever and ever. Amen. hated that song. Loved it though. Hate love relationship. How do we form those relationships that we really hate but need and have to have but dont really know how to keep? I mean seriously. Im stumped. How do I keep good things? Why are they so hard to incorporate into the rest of my life?

Just have to write. It might be the only good thing that Im good at. I mean. this is going to be the only thing I know how to do. And Ive got to do it well. But I dont know how. I dont want philosophy. Or English or creative writing for entertainment. I want freedom, money, women, sex, and all that. I mean. where is mine. Why cant I find what I need to survive or thrive or just simply have what I need to move on. I mean, this is killing me. Not knowing how Im going to move on. Not seeing any definite shape to my life. Its over. It never was. It wont happen. I mean how the hell am I going to publish and sell my stuff. How is anything going to work out. I just dont see it all working out anymore. Its just over. It doesnt work. Its over. I meanugh. Where is my life going. Where is it headed. How can I get to the goddamn point of my goddamn life. I mean.theres nothing I can do. Im no writer. Writing is not a calling is just an act of putting stuff down on paper. Or digital paper. Its weird, I know. Just need a publisher, an editor, a literary agent and millions of people with lots of money to buy my books when I get them published edited and in the market. Otherwise, its all hopeless. I mean. who am I anyway? Who am I to become? Who am I? I have to prove abby farnham wrong about me being a hobo living on the street. Shes pretty darn close. Why the hell would she curse me as such. What did I do to her? Argh. Anger. I hate anger. It consumes me. What I really want is to exercise my fingers on the keyboard as fast as possible. Like speedwise. Like get these things moving type stuff. Like really fast. And quickly. Like now now now kinda stuff. Maybe. But then again I dont know. This is difficult. Muy dificil. How the hell am I going to get anything working like this. I mean Im going crazy just wondering about who the fuck I am and what I am to become. I mean, going berzerk is not my definition of success. I mean. nothing is happening. Money doesnt exist for me. I can only get an education in hiopes of making more money than the nobodies of high school. Which seems like a viable option. I meandont we all want to succeed over the trouble makers in high school. The ones that didnt give a fuck. What about the ones that did give a fuck. What about me. I mean I just dont get how I cant attain this fucking college diploma. Its not supposed to be this fucking hard. But it is. I dont understand it. I mean I want to research stuff in order to gain knowledge but internet knowledge is so hard to retain. A man needs a teacher. He needs a hobby, a practice, something to apply himself to. But what. What is it that I can get involved in? how can I simply get on with my life? Why is it so hard to move forward after high school? Why is this stuff just not clicking like it used to? I mean this is a serious problem. Im in the real world. I need a house a wife kids money cars trucks suvs jet skis motorcycles et cetera the works. But Im not getting this stuff. Now think. How the hell can you solve this problem and attain these things? I mean they just dont award money to nobody for nothing. I mean. what do they want. What do they need. What can I have. What is it that I can sell. What do they want to buy. How do I get it to them. Why am I not good friends with these people? Impossibly high goals. What are these. What do mine include Tokyo japan, china, hong kong, Taipei, Taiwan, shanhai, mexico, sao paolo, Madrid, paris, London, south Africa, Israel, turkey, Egypt, Russia, moscow, st. Petersburg, seattle, new york, Chicago, ft. Lauderdale, the keys, virgin islands, Canada, Washington, Oregon, texas, Arkansas, et cetera. Some of these have been met but must be met once again. I need another book. Last one. I promise. Maybe another one after that. Ellen as my wife. No. someone better. But how. Why and when. Exactly. Someone better. Mansion. Pool. Jacuzzi. Weightlifting room. Helicopter. Private jet. I believe Im all goaled out. Goals arent for me. Im more practical when it comes to this. Eat your bread and be grateful. Jesus. So what now? Im too tired to write. Too tired for literature. Too tired for what it is that I need to do. What am I good for anyway? What is it that I need to do? What am I willing to do? What am I going to do? What is it about me that just screams failure? Why can I not fuck up. Why did she give me that book? It was horrible. I liked it though, I think. It was okay to say the least.. Typing and writing is boring. I dont want any of it. What is wrong with me anyway. I just dont want to

write. Id rather be fucking some hot bitchs brains out. Why not? Where is your hot bitch? Where is your apartment? Your home? Your house? Where is your life? How would you pick her up? How would you acquire said necessities for the fucking of her brains? I dont know. If I knew I would know and then Id be doing so. How can I write with so many distractions? Who will ever read my stuff. Why wont they. Why cant I be better than Shakespeare or rowling or whoever? What is it thats making me not such a good writer. How can I get things together like I would want to? What is wrong with me. There must be something wrong with me. For I am not satisfied with the way things are. Therefore in my life there must be something wrong. Perhaps. I am not true enough. Perhaps I am not strong enough. Maybe Im not wise enough. Maybe I dont have patience enough. Maybe my brain has been damaged by alcohol. Maybe Im not as cool as I would like to be. Maybe theres just something wrong with the whole of society that I just cannot put my finger on. What is it. Is it the money. No. two big buildings were destroyed by airplanes. Fires and what not. Steel beams that could not withstand the heat. Human flesh burning. Some alien god had to be happy. Destruction. Chaos. Human offerings. Is this the work of shiva? Or kali? Am I in the right or the wrong here. What is wrong. To see a part of a city destroyed with a massacre as well. What horribleness. What waste. How could they. How could anyone. Why would we. I dont believe Osama bin laden has anything to do with anything. Forget him. Hes as good as dead. Why would anyone do this. Oh well. Its done. Its over. Too traumatizing for philosophical inquiry. Just doesnt add up. Just doesnt make sense. New york was a good place. Who knew. Capitals I tell ye. One was headed for the capitol. Think about that for a minute. Spared us a little bit of tragedy. Moslem or muslim or mohammed or something like that. Why would these things occur. Why would they not. What is it about anything anymore. Why am I so pretentious. Forget you. Writing and typing writing and typing. When will this end. Its like some video game that isnt at all worth any of the salt or vinegar in any place of the world. I mean it. Like Im trying to get somewhere and not just waste my time by writing. Im trying to increase intelligence, knowledge if you will. But I dont know. How can one man do anything worth anything anymore. Its just too hopeless. Never say never. Have no fear. The worst is yet to come! Hehe haha. I know its horrible. Its humiliating. But in the end its not so bad. Not bad at all. How in the world can I just be so boring. What is it in the plans of God that makes me so James Sidney Osbourne. Why that name isnt there another name that I could have been? Why English. Why irish. Why not something worth some money? James Sidney Osbourne. Even I do not like the name of it. But what can a man do? What is it worth to you? What can you do? Scooby doo/? If a horse is named Scooby dont that doesnt mean you should bet on it. Scooby dont. not so funny but anyway. Id think that I could write slapstick or television but I probably couldnt. sounds like a tough job. I mean the best show has to be the big bang theory. And thats not even all that good. If there werent a leonard then it wouldnt contrast the other guy but hey thats just me analyzing. Two things I need to improve. Analization and criticism. But how. And for what reason? Typing is hard. Hurts the shoulders and neck. Isnt really good for much. Typing is hard. Caring is creepy. Painful memories. Playing basketball. Must remain drunk on writing so that reality doesnt destroy me. Why? So Melinda was playing on the sidewalk with a boy named jake. They both wore jackets and knew nothing about each other. So they got to know one another. Then their mommies carried them off and they never saw each other again. Ever. James and the giant peach was quite the musical. Typing makes my brain hurt. I wish that it wouldnt. but I can not help the fact that it does. Please help me achieve something greater than I would like to know. Actually chievement is not in me. I lie. I like honor. For honor. To be honored. Is an honor. I love the honor. For without honor. Yum yum bubble sticky icky. They say experiment but I say what? I say rigid. But what? No I say experiment. But I say what? Some of these keys are hard to press. Hard to type hard to manage. Drunk on literature. How can thoust be? Why cannot ye be with me forever and ever. But my life is but of only a small worth please dont eliminate the small worth that is me that is I what am I to do. Who am I to go to iowa city. Who was I to go to new york without a plan. Who was I to know nobody and still

get a college diploma. .who am I to lie about receiving said college diplomas. Im not college material. Who am I? A poem Blue, blue, you are so cool Green green you are so strange Yellow below my fellow Comets in the air Snow abounds Everything is clear But not anymore My heart pangs with jealousy Illuminates with curiosity Blue is the color of animosity Take that UK. Poetry in motion Poetry in motion is about nothing and everything all at the same time It moves It stops It goes Pennzoil. But where does it end. Can it? Will it? I dont want it to. Its mine Seize it with your might young sky walker! RelinquishI said relinquish! Dont you want another sound byte? Yellow A coward A traitor A coward Traitor Not worth a damn Yellow. Red Engine fire Steam sour Mine mistress is divine is she not? Why yes of course Shall we eat trumpets? We shall eat crumpets. And a spot of tea? Tee time is at 4:00 Dont be preposterous Being Cool like me If you were cool like me Youd know how easy it is to be Simply underground moling around Trolling about singing songs Passing gas and knowing just knowing That you too could have been cool like me

The Game He said it were a serious game he played That was his work Playing game Spitting game Picking up chicks Pablo picassoing them Cubing them in lost rhythms of unfortunate malfunctions of the mind. The end. Thank you e.m. forster. I mean, m.c. escher. With your game-playing ways. Lost I am Lost. Dont find me. Dont even look for me. Send me Nicole. Send me ellen Hell, send me gloria. I dont care just find me one. She will be good. She has to be good. Shes all Ive got. Me and thekids. Gotta pay for a house. Work a job. Et cetera. Et cetera. Found Not much hath been found Cannot see with all this darkness School age is over Need more education Cannot see for the life of me. Want more education. Cannot have. Money money money. Hate it. Never wipe your ass with money. Such waste Apollonian Appalachian I bet Apollo wouldve liked the Appalachians We found those one years on vacation What a year Looked off the ol smokeys and everything. How to compose a rap. Not a clue. Popular by fresh. Great song. Found out by julian stewart. Somehow made it on face Need to cool my social networking. Working it too hard. Remember, drunk on writing. Reach nirvana through the written word. But how. Just breathe in and out. Never lose focus. Just be real smooth like caramel. Just eat your heart out with menaces. Medicine,. Drake aints shit. What is he trying to do with his voice? Just write. How can write. No can do. Just type. No can type. No certain subjects. Just evil. All around. Little wayne. No big deal there. Small guy. Just wanna smoke some dope. Night stands with open bibles. Bars full of broken bottles. Threats. Motivations. Be good or be good at it. Horrible at rap. Hip hop. Not down for anything of it. Cant even hang with rap anymore. Cannot type like a rapper. Cannot do what I want to do. Impossible things are weird. I just dont understand the meaning of things anymore. Its wild. Like I just dont care for the other world. I just want to type and sit here for a while. Eminem. Thats the kind of artist I feel like being just angry and mad. Furious for no real fucking reason. Just saying bad things left and right for no real reason. Just doing poorly but being loved in return. Made a big debut in some commercial with the 200 Chrysler. Somehow, Detroit likes him. And rap. Sin city, emerald city, windy city, big apple. Motor city. How bout those titles. How can they talk the way they

talk. How can they rap. What is a rap. How is it constituted. Why cant I rap. I want to rap. I used to think that rap was crap but now I disagree. Now I think rap is great. Just get a beat and start writing to the sound of the beat just real big and trying to make it sound real nice foor the audience oh yeah just match the acoustics. But never get it wrong. Michael phelps my nigga. Talkin bout ice cream paint job. How in the hell have African Americans made it in the music industry with rap? Was it jazz? What the hell happened? What about all those times when you remember people doing big thangz ya dig. Just writing and rapping and bipping and bopping. As a writer I have no venue for anything. Just the hopes that someone will publish my stuff after Im dead. What kind of relief is that? How the hell will I get anything worth anything anymore. I dont know if this is talent or just the perspicacity of sticking with it. Not willing to go back to college because I dont want to take tests or write papers. Just not my style. Yeah. Oh. Yeah. Oh. Yeah. Its like the rap is short for rapport. Or rap sheet. Like someone has to just tell them a short story about themselves for no apparent reason. Just for the sound of it. Freedom of speech? It has some limits. Some rules. If I were to have a rap it would be just listening to kanye talk about power knowing that obama is the one in the hot seat but wishing that people would just overthrow his ass but what can a man do for the want of another system. The Arabs are rebelling. Protesting. How about some government overthrows. How did he know that people were feeling his shit. How can I get people to feel my shit. Like to relate to what Im saying. Relevancy. I mean here I am just trying to do something. Like type until I sleep. How can I type. What is the meaning behind all this. Why am I trying here. I need training. Teaching. Instruction. But how. What is it that I need. How do I get my points across. I just want to be independent. I said fuck victoria one time and read it to one of my mentors. Ill fuck you right I will. I mean seriously. Where are all these women that take dick. I dont know. I mean. just have fun with em. Make it a damn game. Its easy. I like that deep love though. Its more fun. I think anyway. Im not sure. How the hell was anything just wright back in the day. I got neighbors dying for Christs sake. What the hell was anything doing. St. marys was supposed to liven up but I only see people dyin. drunk on writing. How the hell does that work. I mean I can write and write but is it worth anything. I dont think so. Might get to work on another degree online but I have my doubts about it. Just doesnt feel right. I want the education but I dont want the work. Who the fuck knows what the hell to do. Drunk on writing so as not to be crushed by reality. So how to write. I dont know. Just keep talking and the words will come. Again and again. Over and over. Just keep talking. No matter what you say it will be good but youll have to review and check it to make sure. Yes? Who knows. I wish I were back in school. I loved school. I guess. I dont know. How am I supposed to really know for sure. What is it with me and school. I mean. its not that hard. It might be hard but its not that hard. Right. I dont know. I need a shower. The phone just trang. Nobody picked it up. Its theresa and her goofy voice on the answering machine. Hurray. Something happened to me. Yay. I dreamt that I ruined everyones project in order to win the game, but there was no winner. It was about working together and not destruction. Jamie hutchins was pissed. I was trying to impress brian george but it failed. What to do what to do. How cacan I make myself feel better? I dont know. I dont know I do not know the answer. Ansser should be ansser. Not answer. Ants swerve. Who knows. Drunk on writing so as not to be crushed by reality. Cannot write for a nickel. Cannot write for a dime. Cannot write for a dollar. Cannot write for the time. Who knows. Who knows. Who knows the day in which I shall pay for I need a nickel, a dollar and a dime. Do I need the time. Who knows who knows for I do not know the day. I wish it were today. I wish it were today. Who knows who knows I say I say. I wish it for but a day. I wish it were for but a day. The joy of this world is not but worth the pain. The joy is not but worth the pain. Away she said. Go way. She said. I say I say. What love she had what love she carried to and fro in her flower basket. What love she knew what grace she held. How sweet and splendid she was in the morn. Thats the end of that one. I guess what Im trying to say is that I want my lit to be written and sung in songs one day. Like I want the great songwriters and singers to see this stuff and go yeah this stuff right here it needs to be sung it needs instrumentals it needs the power it needs the audacity of music. But I dont know how to do that. I juts want

to to type. But I dontw know how. I just have the want. The desire. The need. The want the desire the need. But not too loud cuz the babys sleeping. Drunk on writing so as not to be crushed by reality. Like a g6. Pursuit of happiness by kid cudi. Crush it up. Wish I had me some to crush up. Roll it up take a hit. 2 am summer night. Driving drunk and doing my thing. Fuck that. Im do just what I want. If I fall die lived it to the fullest. Ill be fine once I get it. Ill be good. And I know. It wont always be golden. Ill be good. Dreamin dreamin. Nothing nothing. Night terros every night . 5am cold sweats wakin up to the sky. Trials of tomorrow. Bed full of sorrow. Wasting time I know. Good song. Wish I could take a hit. Need that doja. But who knows. Need to brush my teeth. Take a shower. Eat something. Read some Campbell. But is that wrong trying to emulate others in order to do well. In order to have a style. A voice a persona. I mean isnt it just right to try new things at this age. But Im getting old. Theres a 3 right behind the 2 in my age. Knew my life wouldnt add up to much at this point. Its not until 40 that things start to look real again. If I make it. I mean these days are hard to manage. Suicide is such a haunting thought. Die by accident is desirable. But how. I dont know. I like saying I dont know because Socrates said that he didnt know. And he was supposedly the wistest of them all. How did that happen? I dont know. This song could be interesting. Lots of glitter and fireworks. Typing is hard. Like really hard. Writing something worth having is hard too. How to do it. I do not know. Plan to exercise but its generally too hard. I mean how do I do anything anymore. I have no clue. How is anything even possible. What the hell is going on inside my mind. I just want the truth and nothing but. I want a relationship. No not a relationship. I want a girl that understands the chemistry between man and woman and will allow those needs to transpire. Thought I could symbolize it in a p diddy song but I was wrong. Still need a shower. Badly. Its wild. Wildness baby. Need to get wild. Want to get horny. Need to get stoned. Want to get spunky. All in a cool sort of way. Im old fashioned they would say. Not really a good combo. Need some old school rules for new school society. How to deal. How to cope. How to write like a master. Impossible. Not impossible. Cant be done. Just simplifying my life fo sho. Fo sheezy believe me. Im off the heezy believe me. Lil wheezy for sheezy Im off the heezy believe me. Why does my spine feel spineless. I hate life. Its not really worth my time. Rather spend it dead. Mythology is holding me together. Got it going on with the myths of society. Iran and all that. Must understand how Iraq and iran came to be separate nations. And what that ir- suffix means. Because theyre kind of really important nations. Big time ya dig. What to do what to do. What to type. Im unsure. What am I going to do. What should I type what should I write. Who should I be. Who should I see. What to wear what to wear. What is cool. What is not cool. What is totally uncool. What shall I be. What is good today? Who am I to be? Who was I yesterday. Am I a pretender? No. I want a job. A good job. One that pays me a lot of money for little to no expertise. Why shouldnt I be happy. Why should I be. Im hungry as hell. But why. I believe in starving myself to produce better writing. Right? I dont know. Typing is annoying. It gets on my nerves. Other people are stupid. Big time stupid. But I dont know how to tell them. What is it with other people. How can I be as successful as them? What is wrong with me? What can I do to fix this shit? What am I to do? Who am I to be? What was wrong with the OC? I liked that show. Perhaps marissa behan didnt. I dont know. It showed promise. But thats about it. It failed to deliver. I want schooling but I know that it wont happen in the way that I want it. I mean. who am I. what am I doing. What was I to think of anything. Who am I. what am I doing. What was I to think of anything. Repetition is crucial to success in anything I guess. I dont know Im more of a slacker. Love that term. The positive people can always find negative terms for the competition. Somehow. Someway. I guess. I dont

know. Welp. That was fun. Thats all the writing Im doing for the day. Not worth a damn either. Oh well. Maybe some other day. Maybe some other time. Maybe later. Who knows. Anything goes when youve got play-dough. Right? Who knows? I dont know really. Dreams: Lost in a maze. Lost my luggage and ball. Found out it was a dream. Fucked a stripper. Ate her out. Woke up with boner. Chad was my wingman. South Africa. Spiral staircase. Just trying to make some sense out of all this writing madness. Watching college basketball. Not much going on. Still need an education. Not sure how to do so. Pretty lazy mother fucker. Just dont do too omuch is my philosophy live in fear. Lie motionless. Just be in paralysis by analysis. What am I to be. I am in control of my world. My world is the same everyday. Every minute my world seems to get a little smaller. My world is driving me crazy. My world what world. Alcoholics anonymous. What a commercial. Try this. Try that. Do this do that. Typing is very hard. Must make a means of it. What to write. What to type . Neer a dull moment over here. Just trying to reach a sort of nirvana. Through writing. Or a drunken state. Or something. Im no artist. I dont really fall into a category. No clue who I could be. Division III. Tourney. Transylvania basketball. Wish I tried to be a baaketballer. But I wasnt didnt try hard enough. Oh well. School was hard. Parents were idiots or something. I dont know. I fee I come from incest folks. Cousinhood. Scary shit right here. Not sure how to beat it. Not sure what to do. Just surrender and be. Scared. Tired. Not sure what to do. Sharks and people in cages. Wild. How to. But why not. Angry shark and running out of air. Sharks are scary. Cannot focus on writing. Writing. Writer. I dont think I could actually be a writer. I dont know. What could I really be. Who am I. what can I do. What do I want to do. Its not over. Yet. I dont know. What s it all worth anywho. Writing is more about the word than it is the rhythm or anything like that. Its more about Ptah or Persia. Its not about this or that. Its about Mesopotamia and Egypt. Tripoli and the mother father relationship. Writing requires one to think for a second. To just think in general. To become a great writer however. Is difficult. Should it be easy, everyone would be doing it. It is not however. Should I become a typist. I do not know. They say the brain likes to shut down after a while. After the day is done. Typing is difficult. Ill decide to think before I type. Like I need to clean this room up. I need to marry some girl. I need more followers on twitter. I need money for my writing. All of the lights is a good song. Totally diggin it. Wishing for a lot of things in life. Loving said life. Everyone has a life. Im a male. Counterpart to a female. What is god. What is life. What is vibe. Who are we to decide. Alll of the lights. Loving it. Campbells speaks of psychological transformations. This I can follow. You can tell a difference in styles and psychologies from the 50s to the 2010s. You just know when theres a pivotal change. Love it. Embrace it. What to write though. I dont know. Just keep writing. Eddie and Hank were drug dealers who were real successful in Chicago. They knew how to sell. I mean they could really hit the club and find 8 new clients. In addition to their 400 plus repretoire. Man, Chicago. Malcolm x was all Chicago. Kanye west is Chicago. I was Chicago. This one girl is now Chicago. Just love that word. Chicago. Shicahgo. Shicawgo. Sounds like a legendary place where Michael Jordan reigned supreme as the ultimate basketball player. But this is about Chicago. The place with the big skyscrapers. The intricacies. The Michigan ave. the lakeshore drive. The business the stock market. Everything. Little Chicago river even. Man I miss it back in iowa city. Love is tough. You get out of the slammer known as home and then you need to go back. Its just that bad. Its hard man. Its real tough. I just dont see how to make it anymore. I cant sell this shit. I cant do anything with it. They say write but I mean write what. Why should I write. What is it worth. Why do I write. Its horrible. I mean. Im only in a different light. Not too bad. Chicago. New york equals new work. Newark equals new jersey shaq equals lsu and miami and boston and los

angeles. To command and conquer. To have the monies. To need the monies. Des moines. Excellent adventures. Napoleon. White stallion. Blue cap. Typing needs work. Always needs work. Always need to work. Im a man again. Need to put in the work in order to make the money. Need the time to work again. To type. To write again. By myself. Solo artist. Wish I had the group atmosphere. Damn. How do I develop a talent. I want musical talent but I dont know how. I want talent for writing for the money. I want musical talent for fun. Writing used to be fun. Now its the money. Always with the money. Cant afford anything. And thats the way its gonna stay. What I can do is liven up. Come to terms with myself. Find out why some things are hopeless and move on. Why do great things only come from a select few. Why arent we all creating these awesome events all of the time? Why cant I get my writing to hustle and flow. To make sense. To intrigue the reader. To make him want more out of the damn page that he is looking at. How can I make the page worth more than it really is. How can I get enough pleasure by doing these things. Where is my passion. What is my true calling. What sacrifices do I have to make? What kind of person do I need to be to become the person that I want to be? Am I asking too much. Have I gone too far. Im saying too much again arent I. for what is it all worth but a penny in the sky. Now thats a metaphor. Why cant I retain knowledge how I want. What is my intellectual understanding of the universe. What is it that we are really for? What do they want us to do. Who are we. What are we for. How am I to live. What is my best chance of survival. What can I do to appease thee. Who was I. why am I not him anymore. How can we be friends. How will this end. Or how will this work. You are great beyond measure. You just want more. You are never truly satisfied with who you are and that is okay. Self-improvement is a form of love. You want your father back but you can never forgive him. You love your mother but you know that you need to find your wife. Where is she. Who is she. Listening to kanyes new album. Nothing really big or fascinating. Kind of traumatizing but its okay. I mean some of its all right. He says its all about context. If its out of context then something good can become bad. Good advice. My book is out of context. Wish I could learn some things about my writing. Just need to keep on writing. I know eventually Ill find some things. Get some things done. How to write a play. George: why I never. Who am I to believe you when you say that the French are throwing a party with the Indians. Belmont: well, they are. They were first at war but now they party. The French made whiskey out of the Indians corn and now theyre all too drunk and horny to worry about this whole Columbian exchange and whatnot. Damn. How do I get those creative juices flowing. I just dont know. And that was the end of that chapter. Maybe Ill be a published author one day. Maybe Ill make it big time. Maybe it will all work out for the best. Hopefully. Not sure about publishing. Just like to write. Need to blog more. Like now. Especially when you dont feel like it. Thats my writing mantra. Especially when you dont feel like it. Thats the only way to learn. How to this how to that. Get 100 people engaged. If only. Im lucky to get even one. I know riht. I mean seriously. But really who expects me to just flitter away on the damn keyboard and get things correct. I do declare. Heresy. What is heresy. What is blasphemy. Havent they to do with the same thing? Who knows. I dont know. I dont see why all of these middle easterners are protesting and getting into trouble like this. Its wild. Its weird. I dont like it this. But I might. Who knows. The wind whistles profoundly. That of my nose whistling. The day is grayish blue. So which is it? Blue or gray? Union or confederates? Who ya for? Who ya willing to fight for in civil war II? Cuz its gonna happen. These confederates dont like everything being unionized. Its very spiritually uplifting it really is. I just cant put any words on how I feel about this issue. I mean really. Seriously. But who knows.

Yes. I know. Blessed, yes. Nicki minaj. Someone just needs to put a dick in her and get it over with. Who knows. I mean, seriously. This is some weird bullshit. I mean. I need a girlfriend and well maybe I dont. I need a fuck buddy really. I just dont know how to get one. But what woman wants a fuck buddy. None that I know of. It just doesnt exist. It might. I dont know. It sounds so playful. Buddhists warn of the uncontrolled thought pattern. Desires come from ignorance. I like that. The end state is the awakened state or nirvana. One has to know or see everything for what it is. The truth prevails! One letter at a time right? I guess so. So what is the big dilemma for the day? What am I so worried about? What is this wind howling for? What am I afraid of? Keep your thoughts controlled. I wasnt brought up this way. Yet, I cannot live as a pagan. They warn us very much of paganism. How close we are to it and everything. I say neigh. We cannot afford the finer qualities of life. We are merely poor. But who knows. I mean seriously. But really. I remember a time when I was smoking a cigarette outside of walmart with pete. Crazy feelings. Ice storms. Need marijuana cigarette to continue. Please. I hope cancer doesnt get me. I would surely hate that. What good is my soul and flesh and blood anyhow? Shortness of breath. Sitting and typing sitting and typing. Nonchalance. Miss Europe and texas. Miss mexico. Not really. Glad to be out of mexico. Never again. Why wont I marry Debbie bradshaw or Nicole steeves or ellen scott or kelli glasscock or gloria george. Or Michaela ballard or megan coyle. What happened to me. Why cant I get it right. What is wrong with me. What did I ever do wrong. Thoughts. How do I get my thoughts out onto the page. Thoughtlessness. Nirvana. Nervana. Near vana. Weird. I dont like it. It just came to one man and they all started doing it. So weird. I dont like it. I dont want to type either. I want a shower. Right now. Big time. Forever and ever amen. Been dazed and confused for so long its not true. Soul of a woman was created below. Bown bown bown bown bown bown bown bown Guitars and instrumentals. How to write. I dont know. How can I write. With little to no diesturabance. Im not sure. How can you write. What is the meaning of writing. Why do we werite. I dont know. Why did I drop out. Mr. lazy pants. Mr. fancy pants. Mr. has to have it perfect pants. Mr. didnt see it coming. Mr. doesnt wanna try it. Mr. too tired to watch what he writes. Light brite writing. For sheezy off the heezy believe me. My visions are dark but red and peppermint striped with the Jordan logo. There he was. Michael Jordan. Just right there with a black shirt and a black cap on. What is a blind man doing at a basketball game anyway. Who knows. I mean what the hell is goin on . What am I trying to do. To pull what is it that Im worth and what is itt hat Im not. What are we all trying to prove here. What is the use of anything around here. What were we hwere for? Why annot I do anything right anymore. I want to be perfect again. Holly. Perfect as my father is perfect. But perfect is difficult. But its easy. Somehow. Someway. Perfect. Holy. As father is holy. Cannot wait. For perfection. All of the lights. How many lights? I do not know. Persia. Macedonia. Xerxes. Kind darius. Etageres. Antiheroes. Word is going crazy with my words again. The controls for writing are too small. What to write. What can I write. Light brite. Fashion sense cups fan knobs tag. Stand rug plug cable book. Weights. Tired sleepy nothing to do. Hate life. Hatred for life. Want my old life back. Cannot comprehend future ever again. Wrote a book. Writing another. Cannot wait for masturbation time again. Cannot wait for sex. When will it come when will it be when will I experience the awesome thrill of sex. Never. Not ever again. Never again. It is strictly forbidden. Chastity reigns supreme. Yeah right. Writing is hard. Its not even fun. Why would I do something thats not even fun. What other option is there. Youre just not good at many things. Everything you want requires money. You dont have that much money. Youre poor. Youre broke. You cant afford much of anything. Its over for ya. Youre done with. Kibbutz. Thats all she wrote for ya dude. Sorry boutcha luck. Oh well. Ill start over somewhere. Ill get something. Itll happen. Ill make it happen. It has to happen. Theres no denying that something good will happen from all of this struggle and strife. All the above mayno. Wouldve tweeted it but it doesnt do justice to patience by damien marley and nas. Posted that one yesterday ya see. Shewee. Wish I could go study somewhere. Wish I were good at college. Wish I wanted in again. Wish I could do something about my situation. Wishes aint shit. Whats a wish worth these days anyway. Who knows. I wish. What do I wish for. I dont know. Whats it all worth. What is worth. Why does anything have to be worth anything

else. James worthy. How to be deemed worthy. Of worth. Of value. Of a measurement that promotes value. Worth. You gotta work for worth. Hell I dont know. Writing is coming easier. Just need to focus and try harder. Next time I guess. I dont know. Who am I to say. What was I thinking. When was I ever thinking. Debbie bradshaw. Why did I fall in love with such a name. brian george. My broseph from a higher class of brosephs. Gotta pee real bad. Holding it in. hate when Im not alone. Cant afford anything. Cant work for anyone. Cant do the work. Cant be worthy enough for cars, trucks, suvs, homes, credit cards, fashion, et cetera. Just a poor little broke boy not worth a dime. Thats top of the line. Something something got a big behind. Hate that song. Always derogatory. All the above. Still rings true. Love it. Leave it. Et cetera. Wonder where they came up with the word et cetera. Who knows. I like et al. among others. What is this et? Phone home? Shit. Thats what those movies got me believing. Man Im all written out. I hate writing. Wish Id never set out to do it. Its not worth much to me anymore. Its useless. I just dont know why I even try it. I wanna be a yogi or a sage or a Brahmin. Or a jesus or a Buddha. Or something like a world savior. A wordly redeemer. Of my own world. And then preach. I guess. I dont know. This might take some going to Afghanistan and befriending the Taliban and al-Qaeda. Dont see that happening anytime soon. How the hell you going to confront al-Qaeda. Dont know. Why do we ask questions that we dont know the answer to? Why are we ignorant. Why dont we know everything. Who knows. How do they compose raps like that. How the in the world do they do that. I think Im a free writer. I just like to write freely. No extra crap. Just free flow going. Slow going though. Loudness. Rattle shake shabam. How do you do. How can I be. How do you want us what is it about us. What do you want. How may I serve you fuller to the fullest. How can I help you today. What is it about anything these days that inspires writing. You just write. Theres no grit about it. Just write like a demon. Just transform yourself into that wrting machine that you always loved. Again and again. But why. Cuz thats what you said that you would be. Master your craft and get on with it. But how. How is the question. And why. Why would I. how could you. Why would we. T.pain is crap. But Im not complaining. Got money and you know it. Its a celebration of the money havers. Weirdness. Creativity yes? How can I be creative with such a beat. It just kind of rings in your ears. I think I give up on the literature plus rap art. Its over. Its just too difficult. This a way. That a way. V.I.p. crazy like that. One for the money two for the show. Lil wayne smoked too much dope. They just aint worth a damn. I mean, if you go down in history for this shit then something didnt go right. I mean it. Man I cant write. Theres just nothing to go with. Its another action. Another thing that isnt worth a dilly. But bear with me. I guess. I cant rap with the bests. Theyre too practiced. It works for them. It doesnt work for me. But it might. I mean. I dont know. How to get it right again. I dont know. How to find a voice. How to incorporate some sort of writing literature for something that I dont know how to do. But what it is. What am I to do. I I I . hmmnever know what its about. Never feel good. Never feel bad. Just bliss n harmony. But this song isnt all that good but its got me beat out. I dont see how they do it. Its just something else really. I mean what is it about me. What am I to do? What kind of work is this. How was I supposed to write. How am I to write. Already lazy. Lethargy. Hate it. Love it. Love it all. Feel it all feist. Love it all again and again forever and ever amen. yeah but I guess I gotta find it first. Thats why Im really goin off fireworks. But I cant nail the rhyme nor the rhythm. Its over in that area. Time to evolve in new areas. Somehow. Not sure why nor how but this is how it is. For some reason. How the heck are we to expire. Why did I drop my classes. Why didnt I want to do the damn work. I dont know. What good is it all anymore. Not good. I know I need some instruction but I dont know what to follow. Good thing they give us an education in this country. Good thing those loans will be paid off. Shit. Im not good at all those damn financial situations. Weakness exemplified. Never a good thing. Always bad. Lil Waynes drop the world on your fuckin head is a good song. But what am I to do. What is to go on. What is this shit all about. Why cant I write a good song or something. I wanna be a baller. A poet. A something thats good. Thought Id receive the instruction eventually but Im not. How the world does the world eventually work anyway. I mean this is some shit. Some hard ass dope ass shit. How the hell is this all supposed to work. Eminem is just a riser. Enraptured in

the rap. How do they do that? White rapper. Supposedly a good one. I mean how do these people get sponsored and marketed and everything like that. Writing in the nude is crude. I do what I do for the love of god For petes sake. Never for jesuss sake. Theres a movie in his mind and he transcribes it. William s. buroughs. Theres nothing in my mind and I transcribe it. Well theres very little but at least I can write it down. Like the time I went walking down the street on a dark dark night in February and I went to my apartment and sat down for a little while. There came a woman and I said hey thats the woman that I have a photo of. She was magnificent. Her hair of gold. Her beauty enfolds. Et cetera. This is garbage isnt it. Dammit.anyway I need a new venue. I needa a new outlet. Im unsure of how to accomplish my task of completing anything but I know that I need to do it and I need to do it now. How in the world should it be done. How can I have this idea manifested. Infested. That chair was infested. Shot a gun that day. I do know where that thought pattern went. Cosmological. How does cosmology work. What is cosmology. Right again. $400. On and on the cycle goes. When it stops. Ill tell you when the end is near. Where it goes. Nobody knows. If the world does end, I cannot wait. I hope it does. I actually have faith in the mystery of 2012. Its kind of funny but not really. What would trigger the end. Howsit going to end? Why would it end. Anxiety. Problems. The truth hurts us greatly. Brian george was a menace to society. Nolin lake was a good time. Had a ball drank a lot and got stoned.crawling on the ground drunk. Almost spiritually in a dream. What a night. Timothy wheatley wasnt a sore cow now was he. Yuri geologist is a Russian spy operating in the u.s. in order to further the human race. This method is boring. Challenging even. Not liking it. Everything is ruled by the subconscious. Hard to agree with. Hard to understand. Hard to rock place. All night long and party everyday. I remember being in the hospital and disliking it very much so. Why dont I use the letter b more often? Or q or p or z or / I get it. Our fingers go towards the most commonly used letters y is always a hard one to use. But is my hypothesis correct? Who cares. I really dont want to go through college again. Really isnt fun. Or fair or anything that would be cool. I know it sounds strange but the world is a maze right then and there I know it sounds weird but Ive been there too. Just listen to the words hush up in a daze will you marry me. Sing sing sing sing. Latidadada. Latidadadadadadadalatidadadada. Sister golden hair by america. Finally got a song composed to that song. Will you meet me in the middle. Will you love me just a little just enough to show you care. Damn. How to compose a song. So to type. To write. These things are impossible. To learn how to write. To write what it really is. Me: so what are you doing today Person: nothing Me: really I was just about to do the same thing all day as well Person: that sounds interesting. Me: shall we continue this conversation in the pantry? Person: I feel uncomfortable, wise ass. Me: well that statement makes me uncomfortable, cracker. Person: youse a nigga bitch? Me: Ize a nigga bitch infinity. Person: meez a nigga bitch too. We can be friends.

Me: huzzah! That was disturbing. I hope I never do that again. Seriously that was not a good sample of writing. It was prompted. I hated it. I hope it never happens ever again. On to more writing. So this hobby that I have of writing is awesome. But its not that good. I wish it were better than I could have ever imagined. But it is not. How does my life always end up looking like crap. Who knows. Who cares. Who wants to know. I want to know. I want to know how to get a job. How to make money. How to get a degree. How to be awesome in my field of research. But Im scared. Im scared of all the hard work and Im scared of all the teaching and everything else. I just dont know what to do. Its scary is what it is. It really is. How do I make it in this life. What is it about me that just wont quit. I mean it. Something in there in that noggin of mine just wont qui. But what is it really. What can it be. What could itbe. What am I really up against. What is it that really sets me on fire. Like a hydrant I put out cho fiyah. Named desire for a reason its treason I know it cuz I see it please believe it. Its crazy Im lazy have a baby. Never in your dramas my mother my lover my secret baby other. My brother his sister my weddings in December I lie oh well maybe Ill go to hell. But then again its all just one big sin. The city I declare is never over bearing. But I want out. And this house hears shouts and screams but never a dream. I will. You sigh we will all live overtime. But I need care I will not overwear. These underwear. I think theyre over there. For I am cool and no one overrules. But these nuts crack and burst out they shells. Lil wayne is a man that nobody wanna fuck wit. For sheezy believe me. Off the heezy its wheezy. My kneezy its queasy I mean easy dont fuck up nah. I cannot write nor type. My instinct say to do otherwise. Mary had a little lambe fleece hite as snow. Everywhere that mary went lamb was sure to go. Molly had a disease nobody liked her for it. It was very uncomfortable to be around her while it infected her. No one could afford to help her. No one could do anything to help. Its hard to get free things for the sanctity of life. Why would anyone work for free. How do you get hundreds of millions of people to work for free. Not easy. Have to spoil them. Over and over again. Just for the sake of spoiling them. And then some. Out of words. Cannot think. Cannot doogle cannot masticate. Not hungry but desirous of food drink water shelter clothing et cetera. So hungry. Want a piece of pizza. Wish that iowa city were near. But its not. What to do what to do. Who knows. Dont even have a clue. How about them apples. Dont even have a clue. Not even on a day as particular as this. Not even with enthusiasm. What is wrong with you brother man. Have you mollys disease? We call it mollys syndrome. Ends in death. How entertaining right? Not very, I know. How about some apples then. We like apples. Im a character in your story. Kill me. I want out. Well. Maybe Ill just die in my sleep. How about that? No. dying in sleep gets complicated. Voice of God on that trick. Born in america. Only in america. However you want it. However you need it. Ill be there. Ill be around. Nothing more to say. Just another day. Sky is blue. Finally. Phone rings. Or buzzes rather. I dont answer my phone. Too many people looking for my money. I hate money. If only it didnt destroy us so. Like the caller who received no response from me. I bet that destroyed him just a little bit. I mean seriously. What is wrong with me. There has to be something wrong with me. Im not doing things rightly. Things arent good enough. I mean it. Theres just something about jimmy osbourne. I hate that name. Ive outgrown it. James is more befitting. Even now I like jim more than anything. Jim osbourne. Hate it. Hated. Mad hatter characteristics. His character was that of the mad hatters. that was his countenance. Writing is the only way. Its the only thing Ill ever be true to. Not no girl not no woman only lady Writing. I swear breathing is a lot harder since that surgery. I just dont like it. Somethings not going right. I could die ya know. That would be nice. Hopefully. Im ready to die. Life has been fun but Im ready for a new one. Maybe. I might have some other things that need taking care of but Im not too sure. I mean really. What is my purpose here on this planet. Its all been said and done. Bullshit. I havent said it. I havent done it. Theres still more to do. Still more things to accomplish. Love what is as has been loved. For crying in the mud. Haha. Take that beatles. Theres still more to say. More to love. More to do. F ya. Hated them beatle cocksuckers. Knew thery were bad influences. 10,000 hours my ass. I tell ya, when I get 10,000 hours out of myself into this damned machine then things will be very different. Ill have a lot of things that I havent said. Things will be mine. All mine. Forever and ever amen. Im gonna love you forever and ever forever and ever amen. thats deep. Its actually a good song but it is hard to be defeated. I dont know how Im going to do it. I doubt I can. Its a pretty good one. Its hard to just get up and write something better or

compose art that can be better. Why improve. I know why. Cuz I drank a pepsi last night and it has me feeling like shit. I hate that for ya. Harsh words. I know. But what to do what to do. Looking for deeper meanings where there arent any. Jesus louisus. Out of breath. Typing takes the wind out of ya. Glad Im not stephen hawking. That would be fun. To write like he has to. On and on and on like this. Im sure he gets better at some things related to writing. I guess. I dont know paraplegic people are different. Ive been masked from a lot of tragedy Ill give it that. Butyeah I know. I shouldnt complain. People have it pretty good. Its not right to ask for better. Its just not right. Shouldering a grudge. Ellen told me that she couldnt hold grudges and I was like. Do I? did I do something wrong? I still love her. Id write her a love song if I could. Fuck, Id fuck her if I could. I mean is that love or lust. I mean. its deep, I constantly think about her. I just want her back. For some reason. I dont know. Its weird. Not that I care for her or anything. I just want her. Forever. Or sometimes. I dont know. How am I supposed to know if theres no correlation. I mean. shes it. I just dont know how to establish this as fact with her. Ive told her once but that was embarrassing. Deeply embarrassing. I mean, Ive done some stupid things to her. Really bad. Life ruining stuff. I dont know. How the hell do I recompense my soul for the crimes I have committed. Who cares. Who knows. If only I could recapture my childhood. Then everything would be allright. But we dont get any second chances. Not like this. It never was and its never going to be. Yet another heartbreak. I meanshes as close to what I want out of a wife as anybody else. But if history and literature have proven anything to me, its that the man can be so blinded and blighted by his love that it can be very poorly conceived. She may not want it. Society may disagree with it. It might be unpopular. He might be the only one thinking it to be a good idea. What is sa good thing to write. What can I write. How to write. What is it that I want to tell. How to tell. Story time? Who knows. Not me. I dont know what to do. My options are very limited. Yes very limited. But I need a resolution. A new years resolution. Or just something with resolve. Im not sure. It doesnt matter what. I just need a resolution. I think there are tremors outside. Like earthquake big time. New Madrid fault line is being a big bitch. That tremor was something else. I tell ya. Wish my typing speed were a little bit better. Not really ready for all this typing just yet. I dont know what to do. I actually kissed amy nalley. What a dumb move that was. What was I thinking. Dumb move. Couldve done better. There will be no other girl besides ellen scott or Nicole steeves or gloria george. 1. 2. 3. I rank them in order of greatness. Two of them are actually neighbors. How bogus is that. So Im fully awake now and Im trying to exert my energy to get rid of it but I need new ways of doing this. Walking is usually out of the question since I need gas to fulfill this need. Exercising isnt either since the space at the gym is limited. Running goes with walking. Masturbating effects the heart and the brain too much. Dad is home. Opens and shuts the door prolifically. Wedges are too. Ill never sort another wedge. Wedges are the worst things in the world. We make money off of them. But I dont like them. I dont like the whole busness of it. Its not worth anything. I mean. whats it really worth. Who knows. I mean. this stuff is hard. What am I to really do. Whats a boy to do. Whats a man to do. I hate being a man. I wish I could grow up all over again. Im just not growing as much as I once was. Its weird. What to do what to do. More tremors. Its weird. I dont like it. Its kind of rhythmic too. Though kind of not. Typing is not the answer. I hate writing. It is so devilish. So contrived. So un-inspirited. But life goes on. Over and over again it goes on. Till it gets it right. One day it will stop but thats another story. How will it stop. Why would it stop. Our species would be extinct but I dont really know why. Why would God create us only to later destroy us. Are we not his divine creations? Will robots take us out? I want to die via robot. Haha will there be robots with afros so you can call them frobots? Cuz that would be so cool. Not really. Sounds like a corny movie somebody cooked up for lame reasons. Imagine. A universe with no backwards function. With no reverse or rewind or memories or even backs. You faced it all. face Tirelessly typing into a desert with a cactus and a dead tree. Staring abysmally into the rocky horizon with sand and pavement. Road and skull. Dust and bone. The primordial place of being. From dust to dust. Cursed be Adam is the gist of what he was saying. But blessed be thou for my son hast redeemed thou. Blessed be god forever. I once gave all of my speech and words to God but that shit is over. Im the master now. I control what goes on the page. Me me me all the time. Everyday alll up in it let me see you spin it. All the time all up in it let me see you spin it.

Damn I cannot stop thinking about ellen. I must really miss her like crazy. I just dont understand. How would this have affected me for so long. Why is this so hard. What is it about her that makes me really want her. Im just so perplexed. I wish I really could have her. Its not fair. I want her. So bad. Like right now. Forever and ever. Or at least a little while. I meangrade school. Dances. Friendship. Comradery. Ball games. Admiration. Love. I just dont understand how she became so attractive. I remember it was me her, Nicole, and brian on that one ride home from school and I was like, Ill never let these people out of my life. And I havent. theyre doing well. I wish I could see them more butIm an exclusion for lack of wealth in the family. What a drag. But still. I think I know how you can nurture something you really love. Set it free. Let it grow. Let it live. Let it decide things for itself. But always see how it develops and know that you love it no matter how free it gets. Barely touch it and you will shape it. It will be shaped for you and you will have known true love. At least, thats how I perceive it. She became something that I had envisioned for her. She never let go. But I think shes home now. Rediscovering herself. Trying to figure out what went wrong. Why it went wrong. How it went wrong. I can only hope that I am a part of that process. Wondering what Im doing. Missing me. Thinking of marriage with me. A family. A whole life together. What brilliance. But alaswe are not thought readers. We can never know for sure. We have to try. We have to leap. Its all we are. Its who weve become. But we mustnt worry. Tomorrow is another day and so is the day after that. Whats a day without a little adventure. Ask her. See what she says. Dont worry about tomorrow. Itll be fine. Youll have loved her. And she you. But you must hurry. These offers only come few and far between. Im serious. Consider the many people who are in your very situation. A lot. Single. Depressed. Deprived. Unemployed and living at home with their parents. Just miserable. But I wont do it. Shell have to remain lodged somewhere in my head where Ill never make sense of this love that I truly hold for her. Forever and ever amen. So I need 10,000 hours to become real successful like Malcolm gladwell suggests. But how. How do I log into 10,000 hours. Ive been there. You put the time in and you get good at whatever is that youre doing. Its one of the greatest slowest surebets to the improvement of life. This does however, correspond to the fact that if we function normally for 10,000 hours then we will have a very good normal life. Its that simple. But of course, there are spikes. We dont always have normal days and we make sure of it. But thats about it. So my problem is how to log in 10,000 hours worth of writing. Thats a lot. I mean. I dont even know if I have thousand. I doubt that I do. I mean.thats a lot of time. But hey. No biggie. Life can be goood. It can be excellent. It can be the best thing that ever existed. But hey, it can be the pits too. Worse than anything you can ever imagine. But look at it this way, you were born through a narrow passage. Isnt that something? Actually, Im an exception. My mother needed caesarian so I was born through the stomach. Or the abdomen. Weird I know. So carmelo Anthony has been traded to the knicks. But big deal. Just means the knicks can contend with boston, los angeles, and miami. Not to mention Chicago, dallas, and san Antonio. Youd think that the clippers would be doing well with blake griffin but theyre not there yet. But hey. Im just a small man with a small name. I have nothing to pronounce or denounce. Nothing to type really. I mean look at twain. How did he do it. Look at dante. How did he do it. Who even cares about Shakespeare? Or Chaucer. What about the contemporaries. The other legends. What about homer. Not a big fan of homer either. These people were pretty much the first but they are not up with the times. You have to be able to contemporize. You have to be affluent with the era that you are working with. But 10,000 hours. Man thats a lot. Theres just no way that Ill be able to complete that. But who knows. Wheel of fortune. Evil little game with an evil little man. I hate it. But there ya go. But how does life even matter. No idea. Houston, texas. Married to a lovely husband tom. A Chihuahua bella. New breed of Chihuahua. Chihuahua. I love watching the rams. Yorkville Illinois. Wonder if its okay to try and transcribe what they say on tv. Sounds like goood practice. Go Chicago bears not the rams. Armwrestle no tossup worth 2000 things vanna when youre set lets go. Amanda. Magic tricks. Yup thats it. You got it. Well pat tonights jackpot round egglands best totally fresh and delicious. Featured prize. Resort and spa. Beach. Dining. Land and watersports and so much more 6,700. Nice trip. Our category is husband and wife. Youll start. S. one S $500. Bing. T. 3 Ts. Bing bing bing. Bankrupt. Looks like trouble. Whoa got you too. Free play there. Shew Im tired from typing like a damn manisac.need halo reach and xbox live. When will this happen. How can

this happen. Will it ever happen. Boring tv show. After jeopardy Im finished. Day is over. Hate the day anyway. Rambling on to no end . Will and jada pinkett smith. Husband and wife. Easy. Dont go anywhere. What a bad day. I mean my last good day was when we were in panama city beach florida and rode motor scooters. I meanthat was a good day. But alas. No more. Why not. When will I be satisfied. Ford dealer 25 years. That desperate for content to write down. Nothing much to write. Had a school life and that was it. Might type about it one day. Might write a memoir. I mean. something good has to come from all of this writing, yes? Blessed yes. Nicki minaj is the devil. I swear on my brothers grave. Har d har har. Rdrr. Hardy har har. Weird days at school I tell ya. Miss it. Wish I couldve done more to support myself. Too late now. Not good enough for college. Unsure how to make it. Really bums me out. But there ya go. I mean really whats a college education worth anymore anyway. But worth. What is worth. So profound. Such profundity. That grandiose landscape along the plains of the southwest. Giving money away. Pat sejak loves giving money away. Mumbles and rambles to himself. What a game. What a show. Hatred abounds. Patience. Yeah. Patience for what patience for whom. For who. Why. What is there to be patient for? Summertime. Weed. Alcohol. Women. Dancing. Sex. Kkids. House. Car. Hardwork actually paying off. One day. Another day. Ellen scott. Nicole steeves. Why those two Canadian Americans. Why do I have to love those two? I hate it. How about 10,000 pages. I might be able to do that. I dont know. Though. If only I could think of something to write. G street. Carlock. Carl sandburg. Stuff like that. Blonde guy who loved Asians. Weirdo. Wore his hair spikey. How can I get anywhere in this society without working. What is this society worth. What can I do to improve society. What is it all worth anyway. Why can I not think of anything to type or to write. Think fast write. Right. Right for every write. But I cant tell you what the hell is going on. Man Im so tired. Cant even repeat anything. Writer for sure. Writers thrive off of other writings. Yes. No. maybe. Must write. Must type. Have to type to thrytms and blues. Rhythms. Gives me reumatism. What else is new. What can I do for you this year. Or maybe betty sue can help me with something. How is it for you. How is it for me. I think its the same for everybody. But Im never sure. I mean. what is it to anybody about anything. Why cant anyone get along anymore. Why do I write. Why do I type. Maybe questions are resolved after having asked the same question over and over again. It takes time for damn near everything. Nothing happens overnight. Nothing good is about to happen. Im down in the dumps again. Nothing good will ever happen. What is it about anyone anymore. I dont know whats good homie. Who knows. Whats it worth to anybody. Anymore homie. Why arent we in space living it up. Wheres my life going. Where do I want it to go. Does it even matter what I want anymore. Probably not. You have to work for damn near everything anymore. Nothing comes au naturale like we would like it to. It all takes perspicacity. Tenacity. Tenacious D. and they called themselves Tenacious D. can ya dig it. Susie was a good girl then she blew it. Bobby was a good boy, then he lost it. Billy was a good kid, then he went on to become an astronaut. Silly. Silly Billy. Oh I forgot its summertime. Horrible. Necessity. Of necessity. What is all of that philosophical bullshit. What is all that rap crap claptrap that kanye speaks of. Is he any good in real terms. Who knows. What is all this writing for anyway. Like Im a lawyer or something. Like I want to write again. I mean. who cares. Its oever. Its been oever. It never even started. It wasnt even good in the first place. What the hell is the matter. Geezus. Believe me nigga. Please believe me. Right. Write. Rites of passage. What were those. Rites of passage. Probably something to do with slavery. But what of it. What is wrong with my lifestyle. What is wrong with me. Why am I so delirious like eddie Murphy. Right. Right right. Who knows. I have no clue. What can I do. For you today. Shine your shoes. What ever? Yes no maybe. So. I dont know. Do you know. Is it for better or worse. Who knows. Juneaus. Two alaskas. Never in a million years. My writing has to mature for some reason. I just dont like it like this just yet. Sounds like the dribbling of a ball all of this typing. Yes indeedy. Man I wish I couldve made it at college. A university. Hate universities. Theyre so collegiate. So wrong. Im not even young enough anymore. I hate it. Its so bad. So bad. Wish I could do it. But I cant I cannot. Not enough vigor nor strength. Not enough willpower. Just helpless and weak. Weak little shithead. I know this now. Weak little shithead. Just loving it. But who cares. Who wants it. Who needs it. Who is it. Who was it. Who

will it be. What is it. What is the right thing to do here. Why must it matter at all. Hood. What is this hood that he speaks of. What is anything anymore to anybody. Typing the y key is just too difficult. Difficult is difficult to type. Looks like Ill be a typer rather than a writer. Oh excuse me, typist. Not typer. Weird. Typist. Hate it. Whats new in your neck of the woods? Whats itt worth anyway. Who knows. Whats anything worth anymore. Why does everything defy my logic. Why do things add up for various reasons in due time. Run away from me baby runaway. Runaway from me baby. Its about to get crazy. Runaway. As fast as you can. Repeat. Good song. Obsessed with this kanye figure. Just good music every time. You want to know the secret but you know that its time. People just spend time doing shit. Its just like this. If you spend the time on it. Youll get it. Easy as cake. Although I dont even know how to make cake. So maybe its a little difficult. Especially in your mind. Especially if no one digs it. I mean think about things for a second here. You were a success in high school. You were nothing in college. It was horrible. I hated college. Worst experience ever. Just cant live like that ever again. Just a bad little way I guess. I mean that shit is just hard. Hated it. Never will go back to a traditional university. But I wish I could. Loved it. Every minute of it. Wouldnt trade it for anything else. The rhythm of prose is over. Now its time for free verse. Just anything you want all the time. Forever and ever. Amen. Hate that song. Emotional typing. I know. Wish I could watch TV. Just looking at how costs are effected. Things are looking wild. Just wanna write. For no reason. If I could only write well. Hmmcrows in the house. Caw caw they cry. Once upon a midnight dreary while I pondered weak and weary. Hmm. Hmm. Hmm. What is my life like. What can I do anymore. How do I type beautiful prose. Poetic and whatnot. I dont know. I have no clue. Not a clue really no clue. It stinks I know but there ya go. Its shotty and crappy but its not so bad really. I mean. what did you expect. What else is there. What can you do to prevent bankruptcy. What is the goodness of your life. How can you do good things all too well. Is my life made of plastic. Its tragic isnt it. I knew it. What to do about it. What can one do about it. What is it about. I have nothing worth showing. I dont want to show my work to anybody. Theres your goal. You want to be able to improve enough to show people your work without shame. Now how is that for non-tragic. But how does one improve their skill as such. That takes a lot of time and effort. Lots of effort. I mean. how the hell can I write for very long without fucking it up. Im serious. Maybe I just need to find my voice. Blue cows serve pink milk. Grey penguins are the prettiest. Magenta rocks serve poppycocks. There is high cholesterol in every serving of McDonalds. McDonald had a farm. Now he has a restaurant. Think of the progression. I really have nothing to say. Nothing to talk about whatsoever. Nothing worth mentioning. Nothing at all. Its not even good enough. I mean. it rained today. Big whoop. What else is there to do. Hmmtyping is fun. Need to type for some reason. has to come naturally or else it doesnt come at all. Just think for a second. Are you really going to become this writer that youve always wanted to become? How good do you think that youll become or be. Not very. Yes I know things are very stressful right now but they ought to be. I mean you need to churn out a damn book. A novel. With characters and settings and fewer grammatical errors and plots as thick as a uterus and jesus. Theres just no way. I mean I cant open with David was a pleasant man who lived in the south of New York. I mean, I know nothing of New York. He would have to be from Kentucky. In the hills and the hollers of the backwoods out in the hollers. What kind of political views hath he? I dont know. He went to new York one time and got a ticket. What the hell right. I mean thats some tough shit. How the hell does anyone pay for anything anymore. Is this any good anymore. Is it even worth it. I dont know. I give up. David is dead. He died in a car accident. He was going to be a teacher but he failed. Couldnt even complete undergraduate studies. Bad student really. Never could make it. So what is there to do. I dont know. What can a man do with his free time. What is worth all the money in the world. Nothing. Not to me. I mean. I just need to start over and start big. Somewhere doing something. But what. And why. And how. I have no idea. How does life end up this disastrous. I just want a job. For some reason. I mean. what for though. Who knows. What is God for? Who knows. What is anything good for anymore. Just say it. Shew wee. All the odds are against me and all this writing. I mean. how the hell am I supposed to write anything worth anything. Millions of readers cannot be wrong. If they reject you then you fail. Thats the truth of the bottom of the matter. If you fail to get the readers attention then you fail. Thats all. Plain and simple. Now what. Huh. What. Yeah thats right. Yall know what Im talking about. You know. I mean.

whatever. Its whatever. You want some. Haha. Geezuz. Some. I dont want. Wanting is bad. Its penalizing. I cant take it. Its hard. I mean, what the hell is going on. What is wrong with me. What is wrong with anybody. Is there anything wrong with anybody. No. everything is just fine. At least Im working different areas of my brain. Thats a plus. I mean. what the fuck. Am I a scientist or something. Probably not. I wish I could make it as a scientist. But probably not. How the hell could I get anything worth anything. I have no idea. Its crazy really. How the hell is anything worth anything anymore. I have no idea. I wish I knew the anaswer to this. I call this stream of consciousness as well. But I dont have characters with names and what not. I mean really. What is there to talk about. Nothing. No Segundo. Nada. what is there in this universe worth explaining to another living human being. Omit needless words? I say put as many freaking words in there as you possible can. Period. Without having to say too many words at the same time. Is this the experiment? Who can say? Is there anyone that can say anything? Probably so. But I will not hear them out. Because I like typing words and omitting them is really really getting on my last nerve. I need words. They are my universe. They are me. Forever and ever. And ever. But never at the same time. Capische? Probably not. You will never understand because these jokes just dont mean anything to you at all. For crying out loud. Who do I have to fuck to get along with anyone in the universe. What is there to do besides what I am doing during this very moment? I hate life. I hate everyone in it. Emotions. I am controlled by emotions. How to not be ruled by emotions. Who knows. I like emotion. It works. Gets the job done on an emotional level. Lovely. Personality test here I come. Writng today is going to suck. I have it all figured out already. Ill buy a mansion, then a car, then a doctor, and then well all be sittin pretty. Yes sir, Ill be in the big money after all that. Yes sir it will happen. I mean, I dont know. Ill probably have to log in 10,000 hours into my writing in order to become successful at this dumb stuff. Anywho. What to do today. Not much to do. Maybe we can get creative. A little creativity never hurt anyone. What is there to do. What is there to say. What can I get done. Sonny bono. Cher. Idiots. I swear. Hmmmwhat is there to do. What can I do. What shall I do. Can I do anything worth doing. Is there anyone worth having. Or doing. No. doing people is wrong. Procreation maybe but doing them is wrong. Chastity is where its at. Chasin titties. Good god. Almighty. Where did all this come from. Whos to blame. Who knows. What is the reason for the word why. Why is anything worth anything to anyone anymore. Why cant I get my facts straightened out. I must know some answers to some questions. I will not rest until my questions are answered. How about those apples, yeah? HmmI need to eat healthier. Who knows. What shall I do. What shall I eat. Who shall I befriend. What is there to do. What can I do. Who is to blame. No one but yourself. I dont get that. I sort of do. How do we make more money. Lots and lots of money. How do I get to be rich and or famous. Who knows. Who cares. I just wanna play ball. For once and always. But who knows. Who cares. Who can do me the service of helping me out of the rut. Who knows. Who cares. Who can help me with my financial aid this afternoon. Who knows. Who cares. Who really wants anything anymore. I dont know. Is there anything that I can buy. Probably not. People love to buy. They dont like to be sold but they love to buy. I get it. Make a trend. Set a trend. Make it awesome. Publish for free. So on and so forth. But for who and where and why. I have no clue. What is it that I want to accomplish. Is there anything worth accomplishing. Probably not. Who knows who cares. What am I to do. What is there to do. What is going on. What is a free write good for. It serves no purpose. Its just a bunch of who when where what stuff. Nothing too big about it. Just nonsense really. I mean, what is there to do. What is there to say. What can I do. What can I say. Who is there to blame for this homosexuality crisis. Theres a law against it but the executive branch is not defending it. What about them apples. Homosexuality. I agree with it. It brings culture to the area it effects. For some reason. I dont know. High gay populations are weird. They make money though. For some reason. Make that money. How can I become a better writer? What is the question of questions? What is it that I want to know. What is the meaning of servitude? What can I do to become better. Im better. Im better. Need money. Need work. Need money. Need stuff. But why. Who knows why for anything. What is there to do. Ive always wanted to make bad transitions. Like the new york stock exchange is exploding with money. Dollars and dollars of bills all through the place. The government aint worth a damn. Thats the truth. What is. I dont know. Political science. What is that.

Why cant I get my hands on anything worth knowing about. What is the meaning of the world? Of the word. Of society. Dont just ramble on. Well father Christmas, I wish I knew how to not ramble on. Because I am pretty darn good at rambling on. But anyway, susie had a miscarriage. Brett was the father. Brett Favre. Yes, I know. Devastating. But whats a college degree really worth. Who knows. Do I know. No I do not. Rambling is my specialty. I remember a time when I was at DQ ordering something to eat. In Illinois. I always want to pronounce it illanwa. Or something like that. Maybe theres no food tonight. Maybe we lucked out. Or something. Lucked out. Who knows. I just like to write and type like this. Its one of the things that I am good at. At least I hope so. I mean I might be a talent less nothing with only a hope and a dream and nothing else. I mean, this makes some sort of money. Eventually. For somebody. It has to. I mean, this is all I am. Ive nothing to show for my cowardliness than this writing experience. I can imagine myself not writing but thats about it. I mean, I like writing but I mean, I can do better in other areas of life as well. I mean Im not secluded to just writing but I do love it. It does take a certain knack and craft. Its kind of wonderful. But I mean, its nothing to brag about. Nothing is ever brag-worthy. I hate braggers. Theyre the worst. But really, when is my day coming. Commonality is common. Ive seen people just live and die and be happy with it. What else is there. They raise families but that is all. When by yourself you really get some peace and quiet. Its just that easy. Live by yourself. Somewhere. Someday. Who knows. Its all pretty difficult to figure out. You have to want things more than you want anything else. And I dont like that. Id rather have it differently. All the time. But of course. My options are limited. I barely work. I hardly do any work. Working for reward is bad. Ive learned that. I dont know how to work without reward though. At least, I think I dont. thats one thing Ill have to overcome--reward policies. There will be physical violence, I know this. A lot of my philosophies are met with violence by the mediocre. I love this. It brings fruit. It brings wisdom. What else is there to write about. I want to write fantastically but I dont know how. I like this kind of writing where I know what I want to talk about and that which is spoken of is in plain English and easy to follow. I dont really have much capacity for lines like, Jason slew the giant and rode his dragon back to his cave to make love to his wife Persephone. Nope. Not me. It just doesnt sound right. I wrote something like that in early grade school but it wasnt worth anything. Young authors. loved young authors. never won anything form it though. Hated it. Pablo Picasso is enough motivation for a writer. The man was the man. How does one not love Pablo Picasso. Who knows. Time for supper. Better wash up. Not really doing what I had in mind. Thats okay though. I guess. Im not too sure about this whole life thing. Gotta find something better. Anything really. Life is drab. So boring. Lasts for ages and ages. I mean its solitary and it stinks. Theres just something about life that I cannot put my finger on. Something that makes it so delicious that it cannot be seen or touched or felt. It cannot be lived. This is circular. I must be examined. To be worthy of living. To live as it were. To simply do as one ought or to do as one pleased. To live according to the rules. What rule book though. No one knows. Omit needless words young writer. But how. I have no other statemnet to conjur up in this mad mans society. What is there to exemplify. How can I become an artist at this craft. Is there something that I am missing out on? Is there something worth having. Anything. Is my work even worth a damn to anyone. I mean I swear it wwill take eons to write well. Masterfully. Its mad going into these 10,000 hours and being successful at them. Its just not right. I dont agree with it. What else is there. There must be something worthy of my attention. Something worth having. Something of goodness for goodness sake. But what. What is there to do or to see or to have. Is there anything worthy of anything anymore. I think not. I think our worth has been worn out. There is very little to be worthy for. Our lives have been destroyed spiritually. The world trade center was a good thing we had. Now its gone. And the pentagon was a good building. And that field in Pennsylvania was decent. It couldve been a wood. Would I have saved those people as well? I mean, how does anyone predict a disaster such as the one on September 11, 2001. We might seem okay but we are not. We are deeply troubled. Why would this have happened. How could it have happened. Why do we continue to let these things happen. Who knows. I mean, its a complicated process. It needs work. It needs finishing up. Writing is hell Ill go ahead and tell ya. Its just not worth all the money in the world. At least. Not unless youre getting it. Which Im not. I mean how does an artist make money. I dont know. How the hell is it worth

anything to anybody. Who cares. Who knows. I dont really know. Is there anything worth knowing anymore. Probably not. Its all been done. I guess. Im not sure. I think theres more to do. Theres more to see. More to believe. More to achieve. More to conjure up in the morning. What about ol Thomas merton. Didnt he have the secret. Didnt he leave school early. Isnt this remarkable. There are plenty of good people who leave school early and do well. I want to be one of them. However, I do like school and all of its ways so its not too hard to do. Now realizing that Im one of the uglier beings on the planet. Theres a lot of ugly people out there. Not sure how it all sums up. Starting to lose confidence. Need more worries. Need more time. Need more tempers. I need some motivation. I think Ive got all the motivation I need its just confidence in any one thing that I need to deserve. But I dont deserve. I dont know what I need dont know what I need to do or have. What is it with me. What is it with anyone. I need something but Im not sure what it is. Yo. Whats up. Cant quite give it all Ive got. Not sure what to give. Not sure what to do. Not willing to have it my way. Had it my way. Its not that good. What else have ye? You always want it some other way. All the time. For no reason. Its just that crazy. The best things in life take time. And money. And I just dont have a lot of patience for either. But I do know one thing though. Somedays are better than others. Thats a fact. No matter what. Dreamt that Somali pirates were taking the land. Woman from Haiti took me by the hand to show me the vineyard with white grapes. Told her that we were praying for different days but we didnt know it would be like this. Just a bunch of Somali pirates taking the land across from my Grandmas house. Henry Petersons. I believe. On a reality note, everything is fine. Im working again. Need to make money. Not sure how. Now I just need to know how to write a whole lot better. But how. I need instruction. I need teachers. I need a life. I need need need. But for what. And why. Why do we have needs. Cannot these needs be prolonged until they are wants? This new pitbull and akon song is really annoying. But its got a good beat to it. Somewhat. But still, styping is my nemesis. Id much rather write with a pen and paper. But Im better at that. Been doing that more than I would like to imagine. How do I write better. How am I supposed to know. It just doesnt work the way that I think its going to work. Theres just no way that it will work the way that I would imagine. My vision is weak. Its not the strongest in the world. Its just not up to par. Thats for sure. Vonnegut said dont ramble on. I dont know how to write well without rambling. Here goes nothing. Brad was a scrpit reader. He was paid little to nothing. Worked with robots. Hollywood did it big for him. Thats all Ive got. Big story in one sentence? Jimmy had a career. This is his story. Something like that. This is my career. And this is my story. I write for a living. Whether I sell anything or not is completely up to fate and the way that my business is handled in ways that I cannot control. So what. A tiger and a rabbit. I dont know. Writing just isnt my thing. I dont think Im cut out for this. I think Im cut out for something else. I mean, we didnt have a choice to go to school. We just had to go to school. We dont really get to choose where we work. We just have to work. Its that simple. Just work. No matter what. Writing is god. Again. I love writing. Theres just no better way to express myself. Why. Dont know. Who knows. How could I possibly know. Is there anything worth knowing. Probably not. Im just too excited to write. Like I want to write a lot at a time but I know that this is just improbable. Jesus christ. I need to find my voice, my rhythm, my flow. However, I dont have anything to do. Writing is my life now. Theres no going back. Bahaha.

In my opinion, there was murder. Theres something very queer going on here. Uk basketball won a basketball game. I am writing in the nude. The nude. I am the greatest writer that ever lived. You are not. Three people died in a car crash. Two children and an adult. Ireland is a place that I must visit. Writing is crap. I hate to write. Its so not my favorite disposition. I wish I could write better. Until my better is best. Never let it rest. Typing requires too much vigor and strength. Yes, writing requires strenght. Totally works out the muscles. Over and over again. But still. Im not good at this writing thing. Its not even in my DNA anymore. I mean, I hate it. Whats it good for anyways. What the hell. I mean, seriously. Why am I writing. I hate it. I dont want it. I dont need it. What is its use? I find no utility out of writing gibberish. Writing this and writing that. Blah blah blah. Not a lot of good coming from you now is there. No sir ree bob. Still what is it that I would like to write about. I dont know. A small town usa. Again. Its been done. Then do something else. Or do it again. Make it better. Ugh. Do it again. Okay. Walmarts. Chinese restaurants, weed, dope dealers, police, army navy Caesar city-states go on. I like it. Nothing left. Sorry thats all Im good for. No more than this. Just this and only this. Nothing else and nothing more. Sorry to have been such a bore. Hahaha. Fickle me this fickle me that. Yes sir ree bob. Typing again. Not really necessary. Hate it. Want it to end. Must continue to type though. It is my vision to become the greatest writer that ever lived. Again. Ive done it before I just need the motivation again. And again. Like a little energizer bunny. Gadhafi still reigns. Not cool. Give the power to the people and everything will be fine. As always. Not sure what to say or what to do. Not much to type. Not much to talk about. Boring ass Kentucky. As always. So depressed. Beyond recovery. Miss ellen, and Nicole, and kelli, and gloria and leslie and so on. Miss them all. But not so much. Miss my brosives. Iowa was hard. Never go to iowa. Its horrible. Never come to Kentucky. Its even worse. I hate both. I really do. Writing is the worst. Im lying in bed with a fan blowing on me. Its the worst. I hate it. I have a lot of hate in me. Love is extinct. Never will be a lover. Not sure I want to be a saint. Want to be a lover and a friend. I guess. College college collage college et cetera. What do I want to do with my life. What does god want me to do with my life. Thats the question. Its all about God. What does he want me to do. Answer me dammit. Be a photographer? Sure thing. Teach me. What else is there? What can I do. What is there worth doing. I cannot do much. Im not much really. This is like an accelerated thought process this typing on the keyboard. What is there to do. What can I do. What is there really to do. Nothing. Not really a damn thang. Not a thang. Nothing. I hate it. Its just not right. I must improve my situation. Right away. But Im not sure what I want to do. Its just not all that clear. Never is. Never was. Might be in the future. Who knows. Sometimes those with no hope just dont like the outlook of the future. Enough trouble for one day. Heh heh heh. Yeah right. Not enough trouble for one day right. Who knows. I mean I dont know. What is there to know. What is there to read. What is there to see? God I hate it here. Its just not that good of a place. Its not me. Its not fair. Its not where I want to belong. Its home but its hell. I hate it here. Get me out of here god. Find me a place to go and visit. A place to be profound. Good. Honest. Simple. Hard-working. Et cetera. Not sure what to write. Just writing for the sake of writing. Again. Soul meets body. Death cab for cutie. Good song. Loving it. Just like McDonalds Im loving it. Off this whole dope thing. Can live without it. Dont want to though. It sucks. Still live at home with the parents. It sucks. But this song is groovy. Very groovy. Stellar even. Found it by memory. Love when memory serves well. Like now. Very pleasant indeed. Lovely isnt it. I do believe its true. Shoes. If the sirens. Hope it takes me too. Hold you near. Only song I want to hear. My atmosphere. Something something. A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere. Very groovy. Very cool. Wish I could listen to it again. Too bad it was a one time gig. Hate that for ya. Sounds downtrodden yes. I know. Hate that for myself. Dammit. Hate that for ya. Just hatred. Pure and plain. Simple and pure. Plain and simple. Et cetera and so forth. I wish we lived on the great plains. Would be awesome. Wood bee awesome. Wood bees are not cool. I hate having them around. Theyre so

big they just look like natural stinging machines. Wish I could write a genius masterpiece. Cannot though. Never will be able to. Its just fate. Its already determined to strike me down like a coward finishing his work one day. I hope it does. I hope I get to die young. Or younger than most. Or something like that. I read wishing for long life does not bring peace. Avarice does not bring peace. Want of honor does not bring peace. The east has so many concepts that would help us out so much. I hate it. I wish it would die. Read al Qaedas page. On twitter. Wants to destroy western civilization as we know it. The Kentucky lottery jackpot. Gone. Kaput. Just like that. No more lottery tickets for me. Darn it. I mean dammit. Double dammit. For sheezy my wheezy. Called him and he acted like hed never even heard of me. That nigger. I would kill a man for not knowing my name. thats just how bigoted I am. Yes sir bob. I am one of the worst. I wear too much clothing. Need to stop that. Enough trouble for one day. Goodnight. Psych. Psychopathic. desires. Forever and ever. And ever. Amen. god loves you, yes? Good. He better love me too. Right? Grendel and merkel were on their way to the market when repunzel decided to drop in. jesus, what is this some sort of fairy tale. Beowulf was after grendel and repunzel was due back at her tower. But merkel remained a mystery. What was he after. James joyce once wrote three sentences in a day. This should be easy. Ive got nothing on fiction or fairy tales. I can only do as I please with the written word. By that I mean that I like to philosophize. Theres not much more I can say. Im all written up. Good-bye. But seriously, I have more problems. I just want to write. No. I wanted the honour. Thats all I wanted. But I dont want to write. But I have no other career options. I have nowhere to go. Nowhere to turn to. Nowhere to hide. Theres nothing for me. Its all a big pile of shambles. I took a business trip and its cost me more than I can cough up. Again. Yet again. I hate it. Today is march 1. Good day. Will be mowing before you know it. Hopefully smoking more dope. I love dope. Love it so much. Its not bad when smoked. Id do it everyday if I could. And again and again. And again and again. Till its over. Ah, shew wee. Im too tired for anything thats worth anything. Im too lazy. Im too nonchalant. I want work but I might be taking classes in a month. What good is that? Who knows. Times are tough. Again. Its just a sign of the times. Again. And again and again. Till its over. But time doesnt end. We only end. I think. I dont know. Its never been this hard to attain woman before. She is a difficult beast to catch up with. I hate it. I need some comfort. Some relaxation. But why. Why is this so. Psychiatrists experience compassion burnout. How is that. Who knows. I dont. is there anything worth my time anymore. Hardly. Am I worthy of anyones time anymore. Certainly not. Is there time worth mine? Their time is probably worth more than mine. Thats for sure. Try to make every second count yeah. But how. No clue. Wish I could be road bound. Just traveling down an abyss for no reason at all. Back to iowa. Back to California. Back to awesome. But no chance. At all. For no reason. At all. Pete wanted to go to L.A. what a man. Couldve went. Shouldve went. Feel very much for this notion. Wish I could go to moon. Stars and galaxies. Who knows though. How can I get a leg up on the future. How can I do anything worth doing. Is there anything worth doing? Can I do anything twice. Is it all twice fold. Is there anything worth having anymore. Doubtfully. Its all just a bunch of waste. Yet we make it from nothing. Lovely. Yet I wanted more. Or less. I dont know. Create your own entertainment. For Christs sake. They taught you how to write now do it. Just do it over and over again until you get it right. Thats all it is. Its easy. Its philosophical if you want it to be for Christs sake. a hazy down. A place where I cant find any truth or anything worthy of remembrance. Worthy. What is it with me and worth these days. Worth. Why is worth such a big deal. Who knows. Needs maturity. Needs worth. Again. A gain. A gen. a gan. A gun. Oh no! a gun! Run! Son! For your life! Give it strife! No time to fight! Just run! Its a gun! Son! But look hes shot the sun! Son! Dont run! Hes friendly. Look hes dismantled the thing right in front of us for our sake. Hes funny. I like this guy. Dreamt of ellen, dr. scott and loraine. She asked me if I wanted her to draw papaws dream. I didnt know. I just wanted ellen. But shes so intimidating. Love her for that. Always will. Dreamt of dope. Had fun with Patrick and cory. Possibly Austin duerst. Who knows. Probably smoked

dream dope. Who knows. Youve gotta spend some time love, youve gotta spend some time with me. And I know that youll find love. I will possess your heart. Loved iowa. For this song. It was awesome. Nobody will ever understand my Iowan adventure. Loved it. It was the best. But who knows. When will I ever get that feeling back. No answer. I will write something wonderful. How wonderful you may ask? Very wonderful. Resplendent even. By bounds and leaps. But what is the magic of this wonder I speak of. What is the secret. Where does it get its life from? Hmmwhat is my purpose in life. What can I do for sure. What is it that drives me. That moves me forward. What is of necessity. What is anything that I can do. What is there to be. Be there is there something. Oh yes, I am a master of words. I think. I believe. I think. I am. Therefore henceforth and so on. But who knows. Who really deserves to know anything anymore. Is there anything else to know. Who knows. Is there really anything else to learn? Can I sell this? No. is there anything worth selling. Kanye said he wont be sold on anything. I agree with him. I guess. I dont know. I mean. what the hell. A lot of people really suck live. But thats just how it is I suppose. James Joyce wrote 3 sentences in a day one time. I love that. Makes me like the fact that Im doing something that doesnt really matter. But what is it. Really. What can I do that is meaningless. Meaningless is my philosophy. By and large. Dreamt of Ellen. Archaeology. Egypt. Water ride. Terrorists. Again. Terrorists invade my sleep anymore. I hate em. Wish they would just leave us all alone. But they will not. Therefore, I will have to punish them. By and large. Yes, indeed. For sure. How to craft a sentence. By and large. I dont know. Its not worth knowing really. How to master craft the sentence. How to commandeer the hell out of a good story. Whats a story anymore. I hate the term story. Its so religious. Not enough goodness resides in the word story. Anything have to do with story is very dangerous. Haha. How? What is there to write about? Really. What am I missing out on. I mean I dont even like to write but here I am trying to write. What the fuck. I mean how the hell is this supposed to work. Boring is writing. Very much so. Cant concentrate with all this boredom. Cant can. Can cant. love hate. Relationship. Cliches all over the place. Rebelliousness. What is real. What is realer than real. Who knows. Who knows. The who. Whos playing. Who. The who. That cartoon was musically incorrect. Used to know a lot of music but now I could care less. What am I to do. I just need some skills. Again. More skills. Again. And again. But what it is. It is what it is. I hate this jit. Its so inconclusive. Hatred of life remains steadfast in this mans soul. Writing is dificil. Muy dificil. Me congruencies no bueno. Hate I typing. Type I hating. Who knows. What is there for me. What is there for anyone. Dont know. Is there anything worth doing. Butterfly doors. Stuntin is a habit. Put it in the air. Saw a good movie called Kate and Leopold. Also saw Bait. What about it. Loving things the way they are. How it is. How is it. Get like me. Chevy with the butterfly doze. Doze. Hard to write a beat. Hard to be foreal. Hard to know the difference between good and bad. Right and wrong. Ya dig. These things are so teamed together that its kind of weird. Stuntin is a habit. Get like me. Need to work today. Understandable. What to say. Nothing to say. What to do. Nothing to do. What can I be. Nothing I can be. What? Is it then. What is it. What do I want. What do I need. These questions are not of importance. What is there to go by. What can I be. What what what. Its more about how how how. How is it going to be. How will it be. How would it have been. Things like that.

Now I cant stop thinking about Nicole. Its weird. But not as much as ellen. Ive always thought crazily about ellen. Secretly plotting and scheming. Horrible stuff really. How to write. How do I write. What is good writing. How do I write anything worth writing. Writing is difficult you see. Not at all what I imagined it to be. Not sure how to write anything thats worth a damn. Just needs some fine tuning. Maybe. I dont know. What is there to do. Nothing yet again. What can I do to be a writer. I have no stories to tell. I just cant get it done. I dont have a character, plot, theme, setting, conflict, et cetera. Paul was a mundane beast with a penny for a watch. Kim was a pink little kitten with nothing to say. They got along perfectly. Emptiness. How do I write something worthy of my attention. Or the readers attention. How can I write in a good way. What is the good way. How can I write better. Is there a good way to write. I dont know. Is my writing worthy of anything. Probably not. Can there be anything worth my time and doing anymore. Probably not. Who knows what to do anymore. I wanted to write. Not no more. Not anymore. Im just not good enough. Never was. Never could be. Thought I was but am not. What is there to do. To be. To see to do. Who knows. I have no idea. What is the reality of it all. Its too unbearable. Melanie Griffith thought it funny to piss her pants every now and again. This was not a funny joke melanie. What were you thinking. Its too hard to write. Nothing worth writing. Nothing creative. Cannot think on the spot. Cannot create masterpieces. Have to write a new style a new way. Change the game. Be the mo fucking casheir. With the change. Get it. Haha. Laugh bitches. Rap music influences the bitches. Frustrated helplessness leads to god knows what. Or originated from god knows what. No idear. Need a new mate. Need a new town. Need somewhere to piss off. Need a great ambition. Need a new place. Needs. Needs are for the poor. Wants are for the rich, the mighty the strong the terrible. Read my work dammit. How is it possible to get writing off of the ground. 10,000 hours is an awfully long time. Dont think I could do it. Ever. Just not possibly. Strain on the fingers for the longest time. This song rocks my socks off though. No doubt about it. NdaI. no doubt about it. For sheezy my neezy. Im off the heezy. In the future my niggaz whill have to read what I meant and not what I said. Because timping is really hard. I mean really hard. Excruciating even. I mean they just need to understand that Im not that good and that I will improve and thats about it. I just wanna go to school. They should teach but all they do is assign. Its really hard. Its not worth it. Its too tough. The potential. Of you and me. A book elegantly bound. Too cool for school were these guys. Death cab. Good ol death cab. Wish I could succeed. Not sure how not to. Not sure how. Success is a tragedy. No one can maintain it. Its too consequential. Takes too much time. Look at the consistency in your family tree. Too much of nothing. Lot of hard work but not much of anything else. Evil shit really. How to do this and how to do that. Things get complicated. Need to learn how to operate that damn shop lickety splickety. Splice them atoms. Need to learn how to write. Again. Riting is fun. Over and over. It used to be fun. I used to be able to compose a beat. I think. Haha. Rhymage. Not really though . Insecure securities. Big and small. Great and large. By and large. Small and big. Medioso. Love for the medioso. Lovely tax dollars getting ridden on by most these hated on by most these. Good things will come. They have to. Its just a law of nature. Need to piss. Listening to kanyes all of the lights. Not bad. Just little stuff. Just big stuff. No small stuff. Dont act tough. Dont be enough. Just do stuff. Dont get buff. Just be buff. Yes thats enough. For sheezy my neezy. Its wheezy. For sheezy my nizzle. For shizzle my nizzle whats the dizzle. Forizzle. Hated that phase of life. Got swallowed string stuck in my throat. How does someone become as successful as kanye? I mean, this stuff is ridiculous. How to be very competitive and whatnot. I mean this is something else. Its ridiculous. I just dont get it. I hate it. I want it to end. Shew wee. Mad rages. Wrath is in this one. Must it come out all at once? Why not in little dosages. To be a sage. The lights in here baby. Turn them up. I mean this song is something else. Makes you wonder what the hell they were doing. Takes me back to a time in my friends hot moms house while we were checking out paintball equipment. Much solace produces much art. Just needs a medium. Just needs a audience. Aa. Flashlights spotlights. Strobe lights et cetera. Cant keep up with the rappers. They got something else that no one else can imagine. Hate rappers. Needs a new jist on the way lang wedge is spoken. Love lang wedge. Language. Lang gauge. Lame gauge. Lovely. Writing is tough for real. Ill never get over how tough this is. I mean, Im not getting anywhere

and its the toughest thing on the planet. Just writing. Ill never publish the traditional way. Anything traditional is too hard to accomplish. Must avoid tradition. Must be a radical. Embrace radicalism. Reinterpret the human race or something like that. I mean, what the hell is the wrong with me. Theres nothing wrong with me? Really? Yes, really? Well thats relieving. By a million percentage sticks. Just need to know how relieving it is. To have something wrong with ones self is rather disturbing. Not at all reliving. Once I assumed it it turned into a question. Not a very good one. Now I can move. What is worng with life. What is wrong with the way things are. Is there anything wrong with me. If so, Id like to know about it. But theres got to be something yet again. I mean, somewhere in my history I have fucked up and I dont like it. Its just discomforting. What is this all about anyways. I dont know. My lifes in a shambles. Yet again. Disconcerting it is. How disconcerting? Very. I believe it so. Its bears much resemblance to the way things used to be. Never as they are. Never as they might become. Yes. Disconcerting. Geezus louise. What the hell is the matter with me. I cannot write for shit. I mean it. This shit is drealful . Just unordinary and horrendous. What is thies speak of me being writer. I will not hear of such. Never again until the end of time. Writing is over. Dammit. Never again. Ever. And thats that. I just want someone to help me publish it. Or write a query letter for me or do something that would help this piece of shit off of the gorund. Thats all Im asking. Still, Im not a very good one whatever it is that I am. Its hopeless, just hopeless. Nothing to do. Nothing to say. Nothing to become. Just an ordinary home boy not doing anything for anybody. Just moseying his own business and never a care in the world. Horrible way of life isnt it. I know it. Its just horrendous. What am I to do. What am I to choose. Who am I to become. What is there to see. What is there to be. Why cant I think of anything intelligent to write down here. Writing. I am a man of action. If I write I declare it. If it hurts I declare that. I am a man of declaration. A statesman as it were. But statesmen are out of practice. Nobody believes in statesmen anymore. Theyre just religious hubbub. Ill be good. Ood. Dreamin. Nothing. Tell me night terrors. Every night. Dreams. Dreams. Night terrors. Nothing. Pursuit of happiness. Good song. I can only write where there is music. The flow just keeps things alive. I need a play list but its hard. It must be good funky fresh music too. Nothing old and country. I hate it. Haha! What to write. Nothing to write. Nothing as good as nothing. Nothing to write. Yay. Im off to work. Writing is work. No work no pay no day. No way. Writing is my work. No way. Yes way. I like work. Writing is my work. I hate it though. No fun at all in it really. Just writing for the sake of writing. Again. Nothing to complain about yet nothing to be inspired by. Nothing really doing well. Nothing going gone good. Dingbat. Yeah dingbat. Dingbat. Damn auto correction. Aint worth a damn. Taint. taint. Neer understood taint. Or taint. weird phrase. You look livelier. You must be working harder. Using that body more. Good for you. Expiration is soon approaching. You see, I used to believe in longevity but now I believe in blind fate. Less life, more action. And so on. Life is too unbearable. Must end it soon. Theres no good for me here. Nothing at all really. Not even a girl. Not even a girl. Nothing really. Not even a girl. Or a grill. No grills for her or me. I wouldve cooked up a good steak dinner. Hatred I feel. I always feel the hatred. Things are weird. Always bad. Really. I mean, things couldnt be worse. I hate things. Thats just my life though. Not as good as it ever could be. Seeing no improvement in writing. Construction is going a bit differently but thats about it. Not sure how to make it better. Gotta make it better. Always room for improvement dammit. Those lucky suckers. Big thrity foot smirks. The presidents. Lovely. I hate my life. A poet. For the hell of it. A DJ in seclusion. Reality and sobriety. 30 ft. smirks. Naked and famous. What a song. Couldnt have written a better one myself. These guys were before their time. That is for sure. But thats about it. I mean they really go bonkers over nothing. The singer isnt that good either. Their sound is subpar. But still makes a good party sound. Lovely. Why does suffereing exist. I hate it. No use for it. Wish I could rid it. Of all evil. Maybe theres some good

suffering out there somewhere that really pays the bills. Maybe. Probably not. Who knows. Get a job ya loser. I can hear my children now. Get a job ya moron. Geezuz. Once I thought about the man that put the peaches in a can. Something like that. Somebody with some meaning. Just cant type. Typing is not my issue. Just cant fulfill my destiny. If only I had one. I need one. Badly. Like in dire need of destiny. Somewhat. Cannot write for the life of me. Just not good at writing. Need a new instructor. Need a new thing. Cannot write nor type nor do anything worth anything. I hate it. It sucks. This is bogus. What to do what to do. What can I do. Is there anything to do. Doubt it. What is there to do. What can I do. I do it for you. Yes I do. Ooh ooh. Never in my life have I seen things such as that. Never will I ever. I have never eaten a starfish. Whew. Glad I got that off my chest. Found my voice. Not really. Still looking. Searching. Still need edumacation. Badly. Need a job. A high paying salary. Mucho dinero. Et cetera and so on. Por favor. Now. Necesito. Please. Im beggin ya. This man is in desperate need of money. Freedom. The american dream for crying out loud. Its so stubborn. I hate it. Its not worth it. Its never worth it. I hate it. Why do I do this. Is my motivation lacking in some skill or way. Is there something that I must confess to someone. I have no real confession to make. What is there to do. What is there to say. What are they talking about. What is anything about anymore. I hate my life. Its not worth living. What is there to do. What is there to be. How can I be a better me. What is there to say. How can I say what I need to say. There is nothing to say Im afraid. Sorry about your luck. You shouldve been reading someone elses stuff. My writing is boring. Not entertaining. It ought to be entertaining. Hopefully I will learn these new skills to further my writing. Hopefully. If not then Im jewish. Yeah, jewish. Big time. What of it. What is there to do. Who is to do anything about anything to anyone. I mean 1945 millions of jews were killed. Violent protests in libya. War in Afghanistan. Life is not worth living yet. Man will not see the kingdom of God. I see it but I cant make enough money to attain it. Ever. Or take of it what I will. Life is not a box of chocolates. I basically know what Im going to get. Not good things. If I continue my ways of sloth and ambiguity. Big time. Big time Detroit brown. Bad bad Detroit brown. Baddest man in the whole damn town. Detroit red. Malcolm x. motor city. Loved to go there. Need the money. Need something. Need travel time. Badly. Travel makes the man joyous. Lonely but in a good way. Joyous. Exuberant. Elevated in a sense. Happy. Joyful. Gay. Cheerful. Randy. Horny. Goodly. Much so. Gusto. Mucho gusto. Muy bueno. Should go back to college. Seek out a future. A degree. A way to live. Big time playa. Gonna be. Need to be a better undergraduate student. Never more. Nothing more. Nothing more to say, to do, to eat, to wantder. About tossing to and fro. Nothing more to contemplate. Nothing more to mistake. Nothing to do. Nothing going never did. How now brown cow. How now. Brown. Cow. Will you ever. Have you ever. Is there anyone. Did anyone ever do what I thought they did. Is there anything worth learning anymore. Is there anything worth teaching anymore. Can I just get a break from society please. Isnt there something wrong with me these days. Dont they call you crazy for a reason. I mean I feel like I am the accused. Badly. I mean, what is it about my life and the wretchedness that it is being subject to. What is there for me to contemplate anymore. Is there anything to be done by myself. No. never have I ever. Theres a point of upset that I want to reach but have yet to reach. I hope I never get there. I hope I reach success, fulfillment, satisfaction, completeness, et cetera. Be perfect as I am perfect. Holy as your father in heaven is holy. Bullshit. Just bullshit. Doesnt work these days. What is there for me to say. What can I tell thee. What do you want to know. What is there to really engage the reader. How to engage the reader. Dont know. Dont care. Just want to get that feeling of Ive done it now give me the diploma. Now. Or else. I mean seriously, Im done here. Ive completed my education. Ten-fold. I just need more than enough. Thats all it is. Thats why I have to take so much time to get it done. I hate it but there it is. Incomplete. Not finished. Never will be. Retired at age 23. Ripe old age of 23. I think at 23 we dont know yet what well be or what we can be. Were still recovering from adolescence. Or post adolescence and that loss of friends. I swear I had some good acquaintances and friends. A hell of a social life. Now Im lucky to make people laugh or smile of whom Ive hardly known. I feel that way with everyone. Hardly even known them. But then again, we all know everybody. We know all the answers and all the right things to do. Its just a matter of doing them sometimes. We know how to conduct life but we act as though we do not. Oh what a world it has been. Wish I could see more of it. Wish I could afford more of it. What a planet. Allows planes to crash into buildings. What a world. How could this be such and such a way. What is there to say. I have no other way. To think on the page is my style. To live like this is quite wild. Free-verse, metric poetry, whatever they will call it, I will love. Forever

and ever amen. Goals Corvette Motorcycles Truck Suv Pool Weight room Sauna Jacuzzi Gorgeous backyard Incredible friends Travel Education Books Wife Kids Money Fame Fortune New computer More books Video games Listening to lewis black. Watched some stuff on mark twain. Humorists. Gonna be a writer. Have to be a writer. Nothing more to it. Love writing. Easy peasy lemon cheesy. Fo sheezy my neezy. Lovin it. All over up and down. On another issue, Ive got nothing. Where is my material what can I portray to the audience. What is it that needs to be said. What can I tell them. What do they want to hear, to read, to listen to. What can I do for you today. Im like a fucking McDonalds. serving Americans proudly only for their money and smiles. Money and smiles. A feeling. Tonightss gonna be a good night. Ought to write a film where the soundtrack is every song I listen to in order to help me write better. Yeah buddy I can already see the outrage for that one. Who knows what Ill write. Writing is a pleasure. I love it. Need it. Gotta have it. Poetry in motion. I feel the need to be poet. Poetry all the time. Love the poetry. All the time. But I cant write a poem. Problem number one. No poem. Damn. What to do now. Who knows. What can anyone do in this situation. Whos to say. Sexay. Sex say. Weird. Publish me this stuff should say. Just publish me. How though. How though. How though. Stuck in the rhythm. Lets burn the roof. And do it again. Good song. Bad singers though. No talent. Just hard work. Talent and hard work. Does anyone need either. Not sure. Just write and type. Just write and type. Thats all you need to know. Just write and type. Thats all there is. What to do what to do. What is there to say. Hey hey. Love to party. Live to party. Good song. Burn by rihanna. Thats what Im callin it. Hell yeah turn it up. Guitar man gon sing that song. Hell yeah. Raps and stuff are werid. Ill never understand hip hop or r&b. country and pop is where its at. But thats about it. Nothing more to say or to tell. Everybody go home now. Go on. Get. Gettysburg address. Lovin it. Timeless treasurese ya dig. Where they at now. What is there to do. What can there be to harm me. If nothing is against me. What is there for me. Who knows. Probably nothing. What else is there. Nothing. Nothing to do nothing to do. Hell yeah. Nothing to do. Im free! Haha! Nothing to do. I love it. Whats after this? Whats after freedom? Freedom takes money. How much money. What can I do. Work. Work, work, work. What about that education stuff. No know. Involves masters anyways. Ya dig. Who knows. Is there anything for you to do for anybody. Hardly. Everyones gone. Just me. Haha. Thats a lie. Mommy and daddy downstairs. Damn I need a wife, a house, kids, a job, money, an education, et cetera. Stuff like that. Wish I could make up my mind. Wish I could write down things that were meaningful. Wishes are for losers. Im no loser. Im a boozer. Just dont have enough money to drink like I would want to. Some rap is good. Understandably so. Wish I could be a rapper. How to though. How to compose a beat. Yeah right.

Who would ever. How could you. How could thou repent! Sinner! Muhahaha! Haha! Pointlessness. Lifes just a game. When will it ever end. Maybe Ill move somewhere one day. Meet new people. Like woodland spirits or something. Pan and his labyrinth. Maybe. Austin duerst was cool until he called me a faggot. Mark called me a faggot too. Haley betrayed me. Wellshe just did what mark did. The coolest was alex for introducing the game to us. Hate that word. Faggot. Only used in cities I swear. Damn writing is tiresome. Cannot do it for very long. I hate it. Just wears the mind out. Big time. Nothing good from it at all. Maturity. I swear. Comes down like the fourth of july. Cousin Julia getting married. Big whoop. Im looking for someone to get married to. Or date. Just dating at first. Whatever she wants is fine. Even if its nothing. Haha. Nothing for her and nothing for me. Saw a hottie at the bridal shop but cannot approach. Get anxiety. Rapport is the biggest thing. If there is no rapport then the approach just falls apart into nothing. Rapport is so hard though. How to write. What to write. What is there to do. What can I do. What is there really to do. Can I do anything. Is there anything worth doing. Can I get away with being this kind of artist. Not really. What am I supposed to do. Supposed to say. Supposed to see. To be. Or not to be. Still relevant to this day. Et cetera and so on. Nothing left to say. Always another day. Poetry in motion is rap music. Cannot beat the rap in music. Want to be better than it so much. What else is there. Cubed squared keys on keyboard. Big deal. What else is there. Nothing to write about. What to write about. What is there. Is there anything to write about. Used to have the gift. Must have squandered it. Where did it go. How do I get it back. Must be with God. Must have to get it back. Somehow. Someway. Damn. Sean paul aint worth a shit. Has a nice sound but thats about it. Its not always vacation time. Voice only sounds good for vacation time. What else is there. What can I do. What is there to do. I hate my life. Dammit. Shit sucks. Why do anything. Why have anything. Why not destory the entire universe? What else is there. What can I do. What is there to do. Hate learning how to do this crap. Obviously Im just ramming my head into a wall here. Asking the same thing over and over. Theres something worth doing. Somewhere. Out there. Work is not the only answer. Coldness isnt the only way. What else is there. What can there be. What else can I be. What else is there. What can I do. What else is there to do. What can I be. Hmmlemme think. I dont know. Just typing is difficult. Not really actually it comes rather easily tonight. Thats right. Im writing in the night time. What can I do. Im helpless. Ive got nothing. No more streets. No more friends. No more bars. No more adrenaline. No more need for sex. No more need for false love. No more need for infatuation. Nothing. Cannot attain so the only thing left is life and death. To live and to die. Thats about it. Nothing wrong with living and dying. There lived a man. He died. Epitaph. He died after he lived. What a grave existence. Hatred. What can there be after death. After life. After the cycles of life and death. What is there on the outside. Beyond life and death. Beyond good and evil. What is there. What can I do. What is there to do. Nothing left to do. Nothing to become. Only sorrow. Escape the sorrow. Must be sorrowful. Comfort. Sorrow though. What is even that good for. What is there for me to do. There is nothing. I cannot do anything. This gig is over. My life as we know it has ended. Must escape to tranquility. Must get a job. Must be a good man. Must get it done. Must be the man of the hour. Must be he who conquers. He who transpires. Must be the man of civil war. Must be great. Must be he who can do what it takes to get the job done. But what else is there. Can there be anything out of context. Of course there can. Thats the rules of freedom. Freedom is for money, not for people. I disagree. Freedom was essentially for people. The king was for money. How so though. What is there to do. To become. To do. To be. Is there anything worthy of price. Of profit. Of worth. Am I worthy of a better life. Why is not my brain functioning at a higher rate than it can be. I know that I have the inert talent of writing. Where the fuck is it. I used to have it. Where the fuck did it go. Must have wandered off somewhere. What else is there. What can I do. Fat people. Fat humor. Mike and molly. Could be a good show but Im not buying it. His accent is cool but its not enough. They need tonah, its good. They take up most of the screen so that works. Most other shows have hot bods that make you feel bad about yourself. Not mike and molly. Their obesity makes you feel good about something outside of yourself. Writing is hard. Not much to know. Not much to scribe. To be a scribe. To write. To know how to engage the reader. To have readers. To have been read. To have been talked about. Cant do it.. Nobody cared for it after high school. Nobody cared for it now. What makes you think theyll care for it sooner or later. Its only a matter of time that you succumb to the will of the industry. To be a machinima. To be a conformist. A money maker for all the wrong reasons. If love takes industry then I disagree. I dont agree at all. If a household requires me to be involved with wedges and pegs then Ill be a nuisance to those who persecute. Profit is for the greedy. Greed is for the devil. I like greed though. Not

really. Bad on the character. How to build character. How to attain traits that enhance your character for ages. They dont say it right. What is there to write. Well Ill tell you. Not much. I have nothing that I wish to share and nothing that I wish would guide me on towards the day for a new day. I hate college. I never want to be a part of it ever again. I did love it but the need for women and friends stopped. Didnt like that need. Less needs, less hustle and bustle. I can do whatever just sitting in my room, waiting for the days to end. Sleeping my existence away. At least a third of it. Or half. I sleep 12 hours at a time. Its more fun that way. I like to sleep. Sleep is king. It takes me to places I wouldnt have otherwise visited in ways that I would have never thought possible. Like writing on the computer. Goes by much quicker than on the page. No ink smears either. Still, what the hell am I writing. Just plain shit. And Im not being modest. This is just shit. Just nongood crap. They made a non-good section for writers and Im one of them. Damn you heaven and earth. Damn you. What else is there. Nothing going on at this point in the universe. Nothing to really report on. Nothing worth telling. Nothing at all. Nothing to do. Nothing to say. Nothing to pray. No one to bother. No one to slay. No one to help. No one to do anything for. Nothing to do. Just nothing. At all. I hate this. Hatred isnt so bad is it. Its common. Its necessary. I like hatred. Its not love but its pure. Its clean. It gets the job done. Runs through me rather nicely too. Just feel all that hatred. Mmm. Feels like life. So much hatred in the world. So much to do. So much to say. Nothing to do? Ha. Got it beat. Love life. Its so worth living. I like it. Why would I not like it. Life is the best. I can feel it now. Things getting better. Better and better all the time. Skittin better all the time. Like that song. I hate that song. I always feel like theyre talking bout me. Pick up the phone. Reclusive is my nature. I am the recluse. Like a spider. Lovely. Love the way things go these days. Always smooth and flowing everflowing like the gasoline in the middle east. Always making the bucks. The crisp dollars of commerce. Always profiting. Wheres my profit. Why am I not making profits. Wheres jimmys share of life. What else is there to do. What can I say. Im nonsensical. Whimsical even. I mean I hate the way I am but thats just the way I am. I have to accept who I am. Thats the only way Ill figure out my true nature. My true nature is worthless. Pitiful. Anxious. Worthy. Waiting. Needy. Corrupt. Corrosive. Have-nottish. Things like that. How to have. How to not. Not head. Dad always said not head. Like there was a knot in your head. Weird. Knots. Don knotts. Andy Griffith. Get it right next time. What is there to do seriously. Nothing. I hate life. Not even worth living. Nothing going for nothing. Just like life to disappoint. Over and over again. Like a damn scrooge that doesnt want to give any more money. I hate scrooge. Already tells you that youre screwed. Scrooge. Ebeneiser. Well that was a boring pile of shit. Whos going to read that. Is it even worth reading? Probably not. I mean seriously. Who s going to read or buy or do anything cool with my writings. I like them. I like making them. But I dont like this whole notion of obscurity. I dont feel free enough to just let these out in the open where anyone can criticize or condemn. It just doesnt work in my head. Now if only my mentality could match that of realitys. that would be the true nature of things. If only I could match my life with the way it would turn out. If only I could know how it was going to turn out and then live it exactly to the plan even if the consequences were dire. Or something like that. Jeez I wrote a lot in that last paragraph. What is a paragraph anywho? Need something to type about. Must be a typing machine. Must be the man of word. Of the written verb. Verb is the word. Not bird. Bird is the word. That was the worst. Peter griffin. Bird is the word. How about them apples. Whats it all about anyway. Whats it all about. What can I do with my life situation. Theres not really much of anything I can do with my life situation. Other than mope and bitch and cry about tit. Thats about it. Just put it down on me put it down on me. Yada yada yada. Remember a time we ran over a mailbox. So stoned. Freaking out badly. What the hell to do. What should I have odne. My eyes were so blazed. There was nothing to do. Damn. Wish I could relive some of that stuff. Wish I could sell some of this writing. Thats for sure. Wish I could be an international superstar. Like nothing. Like nothing. Again and again. Like nothing. Writing for the sake of it. Cannot take my mind off of it. Have to love it or leave it. Ellen scott. I will marry this woman that Ive known since we were boy and girl. This will happen. Ill force it if I have to. Please god, if you exist, please, let this happen. I want nothing more out of life than her beauty, her essence, her

self. I love her. Does she know this? I could never tell her. I could but I could never bear the humiliation. Ive accepted too many humiliations. Suicide would be inevitable. One more bad thing in life and Ill have to kill myself. Its not that easy down here God. Please help us out. Things arent going according to plan. I need your help God. Please help me help myself. Please God, please. Lemme do something good for humanity. Lemme get it right. I can do this. Just lemme have another chance. Unless, I only get one. If so, then Ill make the best of it. Ill get it right the first time. No matter what. Thats my ideology. Get it right the first time. My mother said speak your mind. Tupac. I plan on doing the same. How to speak my mind. To think that a man was told to speak his mind. Recipe for early death. Maybe. Probably not. But theres nothing on my mind. Im infatuated. In love. I cannot get her off my mind. I want her in my life but I dont know how to contact her. I dont know her. I want to know her. Almost slept with her. We were watching a movie. I fell asleep. She almost fell asleep. On couches. With two other people. I love her. I want her. Im infatuated. Eternally. She got me bad. I want her bad. I want her like chocolate on cake, like syrup on pancakes, like peas and carrots, like green on beans, like white on rice, like brown on bread, like carts in the grocery, like money in the bank. I just need her. I want her. I need her. I want her. I need her. I want her. Theres no denying it. I just dont know what to do. I like her so much and shes the one. The only. Theres nothing I cannot love about her. Ive always loved every little thing shes always done. Weve traveled together. Weve exchanged words. What the hell am I supposed to do. Who am I supposed to be. What is this all for anyway. Who am I these days. Whats it all for? What am I supposed to do. What is there in life. I love this woman with all my heart and all my soul. More than life itself. Theres just no other feeling to describe this engagement of the senses of love to her. If only she would feel the same. I mean really. I love her. Deeply and truly. Theres nothing else I can say or do. Shes mine. I have to have her. Ive already called dibs dammit. If another man takes her then Ill be crushed. Ruined. Reborn though. I can live with that. As long as shes happy. If there is a woman that is not happy without me then I must be with her. Simple as that. But how does one profess oneself to unknown loves. Damn you ellen scottif only I hadnt of touched you in middle school. If only I werent some carpenters son and you a daughter of a doctor. If only our classes would mingle better. How am I supposed to write right. I need to know right now. How the hell am I supposed to get this stuff right? I dont know how to do it. What is my struggle. Why am I struggling like this. Ive never had this hard of a time for myself. How the hell am I supposed to get things straightened out for myself. Who knows. I dont know how to do it. I really dont. Typing is an essence. Its beautiful. I love it. But what to write. What to do. What to contribute. How do I get outta this funk that Im in. how do I get into a rhythm. Ive applied to full sail university. Not a big name or anything but I cant get lost there either. Online classes. Its gonna be different but I cant wait. Get to write and whatnot. Not too enthused about it really. Just hope nothing good comes from this. I hate it. Again. I mean really, what is there in life to do. To become. To be. To become. To be. Defense. Watching basketball. Impossible to write anything good with basketball on. But I mean, theres me the page, the word, and everything is fine. Sucker punch might work. Looked like a decent movie. Not too good though. Talking about survival and not life. I remember when it was about life. Now its about survival. Survival was a joke when I was young but now its the real deal. Ive still got to rely on my parents for a lot of stuff. Dont know where Id be without em. Et cetera and so on. Where would I be without anything. Where would I be without my soul. Where would it be without me. But how do I get another way in. I saw ellen on face book. Thats enough. Thats plenty. I dont want her anymore. Count me out. Or in. I dont know. How the hell am I supposed to decide. I just want a good looking woman that I can relate to and marry. And other things. Like love and have and hold and so on. I mean really. How the hell am I supposed to get things down and dirty. How the hell am I supposed to see things through. I just want it my way. My way or the highway. Hated that song. Hatfield. And McCoy. Ya gotta wonder if they still hate each other. Over that stolen pig. What a way to start a family war. Love it. Love the hatred. Inverses I tell ya. Push pull and so on. Ellen liked something. Im still on her case. If she doesnt come to me or I dont come to her then something in the universe is very fucked up. Ive looked at it from every angle and it works. But Im not sure how. It works for me. It might work for her. I might be on a bad path. I might be a bad man. I might not know what Im talking about. I may be off in left field again. I really hate this. Knowing that I love

someone but not having the guts to confront her. Just cowardice. I hate it. Cowardice is a disease. Ill never get over it. Its just horrible. Its not fair. Its not sane either. I cant marry someone that doesnt love me in return. Why love someone if no love in return. Exactly. Im bigger than this. I must say good-bye to her. Just bye-bye. No more forever and ever. I mean seriously. What was I thinking. Who knows. Leo Tolstoy said that the main character in his stories was Truth. I liked that. I think Ill borrow it. Just saw some Michigan cheerleaders. Total hotties. I love a good cheerleader. Forever and always. Ever and ever. Clint dever. Coleman dever. Hells yeah. Heavens yes. Ha-ha. Need some beauty rest. Need something. Needs a reset button. Needs jimmy Osbornes dick. Just like me to fuck things up. Just like me to not get what I want. Cant wirte for the sake of living. Cant write. Dont want to write. Cant write dont want to write. Who knew. Listening to good music. Finally. Lovely stuff. Cant wait for something. Something good. Just cant wait. Ever. Waiting is for losers. You gotta get up and get what you want. Like lickety split. Like real quick. Like real nice. But easy does it. But how to do it very awesome like. And kick ass. Forever. And ever amen. to not have something to say. To not have anything to do. To not have anything worth sharing. To be lost in a daze. A trance. A space race for nothing and everything all at the same time. How to do it right. How to get a good life. How to live a better life than everyone else. Thats the key. Screw the rest. Im living better. No matter what. If they bring me down then curse em. Thats the end of em. No ma queda mas. Still typing is hard. How to avoid it. How to get it right. As tempting as it is to spell right as write while writing. Very tempting. Need to chillax. Like relaxing but cooler. Just take it easy. Need some motivation. Need some determination. Need something to keep me going. Need something to get me through the day. Need some loving from a woman that I cant define. Or describe or see. Where is she. Where would she be. Where do I go looking for her. Who knows. Ive only got few chances left. Women just aint going around walking st. marys for the heck of it. What should I do. Where should I go. Who knows. What should I write about. Whats my genre. What am I good at. I dont know. Dont think I have a genre. Think Im just good the way that I am. Hell yeah. Just doing spectacular. Dont need any help from anybody. Dont need nothing from anyone. Just need myself. Nothing else but myself. Prima facie. Right? Just prima facie. Whatever that means. Means something in latin. Wasnt too good at latin. Wasnt too good at much in college. Wasnt even that good in regular school, pre-high school graduation. Lets groove. Tonight. Its gonna feel all right. Who knows what they saying. Got that electric groove. Writing should be fun. There should be something glorious about it. Something awesome. Must be something good going on with it. I mean it cant all be struggle and sacrifice. It cant all be hell. There must be something that Im moving towards. I mean, none of it is really that good but if I stick with it it might turn out to be good. It just might. Man I cant believe Debbie is getting married. Its so soon. Who knew. Who cares. Marriage is life. Things are just going good for her I guess. What is there for me. Who is to say. I mean, I want the education, the life, the marriage, things such as this. I mean, it cant be that hard for an old chap like me to fall in love again. Just gotta persuade a woman to fall in love with me. Share the spice of life. We gonna groove tonight. Maybe. Probably not. Grooving is funky. Like the groove of life. Sharing the spice of life. Need more video games. Need more life. Need more action in this mofurkcer. Need more friends. Man when will I learn that an observation of what I need will not get me it. It takes positive action. You have to gain new friends, get some money, get a job, get a wife, a house, a car, an education, so on and so forth. This is the way things are these days. You must be good at one specific thing and then sell it. Market it. Do something good for yourself. By doing good for others. If its not good for others then nothing good will come. Self-employed huh? Well thats just ridiculous. I swear, theres a big block of how Im supposed to be and I know there are a lot of obstacles but Ill just have to jump em. Shew wee. Need a new life. How to start from nothing and then go forth. Flashbacks and memories haunt and torment. What to do. Unsure of self. About to self-destruct. Smashing pumpkins. Definitely not cool anymore. Neither are the foo fighters. Who knew this life could be so uncool. I mean this life just doesnt add up to my expectations at all. Time and technology just go by so slowly. Its not enough to just live. You have to be. Its not enough to be. You have to participate. Its not enough to participate. You have to be the best. And when your competition comes, you have to be better than the best. Always and forever. Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage. Hell yeah. Lovin that shit. Must be something better. Must be something good. How to become better. How to become good. What is the good. Is it like yellow. Damn you g.e. moore. I couldnt do well in that class either. Ethics. What a fucking class. College is hard.

Somehow it can be done. I will be a good college kid. Yes sir. I will be able to get it right. No matter what. Just like that orbit gum commercial. Hatred for orbit. Big time. Oh well. Hatred for things to come. Hatred for things past. Just grind it out. Doesnt matter what you write. Someones got to read it. Wherever there is a writer there must be a reader. One person. Thats it? What about zero persons. I like the theory of zero persons better. That way if Im discovered theyll say that I didnt get one single reader. And that will be phenomenal because then theyll want to read this shit for historical purposes. And then, once Im dead, everything will be right in the universe. Again. Just like before. I mean, how the hell am I supposed to supposedly write a query letter or a book proposal. I mean these standards are just too high. Ive got the writing and theyve got the reading but there are guardians that prevent this magical connection. Its really bad for storytelling. Lots of conflict and failure. Never heard of such. Failure and success. Wish nothing of the sort could have ever happened. But it does happen. So how do I handle it. Who knows. Handling things is hard. Must get over the management crisis of life. Wonder how my mid-life crisis will be. Wonder if Ill make it to mid-life. Wonder if anything good will happen to me. Wonder if Ill be rich and famous. Hopefully. I mean what else is there besides riches and fame. Not much. I mean theres love but Im terrible at love. Need a psychiatrist for that shit. Shew wee. Im tired from writing. Writing is just not worth it. Too expensive. Just too much on the mental capacities. I mean I know theres a way to get it right but its very difficult to channel and call up. You have to get it up just right. Like you have to ponder and deliberate and be sure of every sentence and then make sure that it makes sense with all the other sentences and paragraphs. And your paragraphs have to be organized. I mean I dont know how I can keep up this long paragraph structure. Luckily, I get an extra page. Still writing is hard work. No joke. Must be able to do it with such a speed that it wont be impossible to complete. I mean, Im a good typist and everything but I just need a little bit of inspiration. I mean I need something more than music and college basketball. Somehow, ohio st. is good at both college basketball and college football. Whats so great about ohio st. big in athletics. Thankfully, the ivy league will always be good in academics. Just didnt like uk. Never will. Need a more grown up college. Need something that is for the improvement of me. Need something that will give me poise. Need a whole new life altogether. I mean, why didnt they introduce the idea of suicide as trading this life for a better one. Or in hopes of. I mean, sometimes its just that unbearable. So what makes you think that the next life will be just as unbearable or worse? I mean, it is just life. Its pretty unbearable no matter how you look at it. It all gets swallowed up into an oblivion of nothing. I mean what the fuck. How the hell do I get better. Theres no such thing as getting better. Youll forever be stuck in this rut of rotten writing. Its just that bad of a reality. Of a universe. I mean I know this is bad writing but how the hell do I make it better. Theres got to be a damn christ forsaken way. I mean, theres just got to be a better way out there. For some reason. I mean, theres just got to be a better way. Whatever the way is, Im all ears. Shew, that was an exhausting paragraph. Writing wears ya down. Breaks your shit up. Not in a good way either. Guess you could call me anal in Freudian terms. I like to see myself more as oral or phallic. Anal is the worst in my eyes. Oral is the best. If one is good with their mouth then they can get a whole lot done in ways unexpected. But perhaps its phallic. To be phallic ruled would be pretty cool. I suppose. Computer is over heating. Its headed for a Japanese meltdown or something. Something not good. Ohio state is beating penn state. No big surprises here. The end. Back at it. Gotta keep at it if Im gonna be good. Forever and ever. Even if it doesnt add up to much its nice to just have a discipline and an inner peace. Something thats gonna keep me alive. Something thats gonna keep me going. Something thats gonna keep me driving for the one spot that Ill hit until I get it right. Until I get it done. Until it works out just right. Until it all looks so good that Ill be in a zone all my own and such and such. What a day it is. To be a day. To be the day today. Damn these guys are good. Black eyed peas. Heads up. Imma be. Like the way they talk but this is the way that I talk. Forever and ever. I love the blank page. Only means that Ill have to fill it up. Which I will. Its the blank completed works that gets me. How the hell am I supposed to drone on like this until Ive completed many works. Aint no way. Nobody will ever want to buy my shit. Ill be a starving artist for sure. Just a miserable malcontent. High aspirations are awesome. Loving those high aspirations. Only leads to disappointment and such. Typing in my bed just doesnt get the job done. Its not even going to work right. Theres just no way that I could ever possibly make my dreams come true. Like every single one. Getting a bachelors a masters a doctorate getting the money riches fame glory et cetera. Im not even feeling the bachelors or the masters. Im feeling more for hard work and stick-to-it-iveness. This is really a fun song. Rude boy by

rihanna. If only I could attract a mate through my writing. Nicole s. or ellen s. or gloria g. or something like that. I mean I need one of these three women. Its always the not having them that drives man insane. Drives him mad. Once he gets, hes apt to abuse, beat, be violent or neglect. Too many stories I hear of how the husband when in love is driven to violence and the such. I mean what the hell. Why is the sexual impulse so attached to both creative and destructive urges. Will probably never know. Yin and yang on that one. Peace and violence. Creativity and destruction. Beginning and end. All great spirits must be met with violence. Fact of life. Must continue the writing process. Dribble drives plague the ncaa. Must be taken down. Shew. I just dont have enough fire for 10,000 hours of writing. Just not in me. My enemies. Preach to the enemy. Haha. That would be nice if all of my enemies were my readers. Jeez. What fantasy this day. What to write. There must be something to write or I wouldnt be writing. Writing to me is like a sport. It has to be competed in. I have to win. Theres nothing against me and the paper. Theres only more competition out there just waiting for me to fuck up. And I am fucking up. But Im doing the best that I can. I hope that my best is good enough. I hope that good is good enough. I hope that good things come and I hope that everyone has good things come to them. I want to be a humanist for once. I only wish for the well-being of others. Amen. Writing is all Ive got. Nothing more. Nothing less. This is the only thing that I can continue to do. I do have something and it is writing. What else would there be without the gift of writing. I mean. what the hell. Just a fucking writer. A goddamn writer with no common sense about how the world works. Not even a practical purpose for wirting. Just a bad excuse for work. To work. Ha. To work. Ill never work a day in my life because Im a mofurking writer. To write. I hate to write. Writing is just a damn hobby. A dreaded hobby. One of the worst occupations known to man Must become some writer of srots. Not a very good one. Not very enthused about it just want to get it done for the fifty some years that Ill be sitting down and trying this shoe to see if if fits. Dammit. Fifty some years. Ill be seventy-three. Yes sir seventy-three. But how. And why. Who knows if Ill make it to seventythree. Be lucky to make it to thirty. Be lucky to make it to forty. And so on. Skateboarding dog. On wheel of fortune. Feel like not typing. Typing is not so cool. Writing is not cool either. Just want something that meets all of the approved standards. Most of those standards include comfort. I meet those standards pretty well. Aye, but superior man think only of virtue. Aye. Virtue. What is virtue. How could I possibly be more virtuous. Who knows. I dont know. Who ever knows anything about anything. Who wants to know. Ill never know. Will you ever know? If so, write a book in response to this short rant. I love to rant. Ranting is my thing. I love it. Nothing better than a good rant. Forever and ever amen. just a good goddamn rant. Yes sir. Man I wish I were in college. Ive been but I continue to drop out. Its just a pity. Mom gives me no respect because of it. I hate her though. No respect for me, no respect for you. Booyakasha. What is there really. What can I piece together. What can there be. What is there what am I doing here. Whats a good thing to write. Writing is my friend. Id make love to writing if it were a woman. Ms. Writing. I can see her already. Ugly and mean. just the way I like em. Still, none of this is getting me anywhere. Its like the hardest sport ever. Nobodys playing against you and even then, youve got to make a lot of money. I say this because its true. If only I could do something worth my salt. If only I could really utilize my money. If only I had more money. If only I had a job. If only I had more things to do with my life. If only there were good things in the world. But there arent. theres nothing good in the world. Lot of hate in this one. Not sure how he made it on live tv. Almost called it life tv. That wouldve been bad. Life tv. What a way to go. Just a lot of chaos and mean stuff in life. Just a lot of crap really. What is there in this world. What can I put my fingers on this time round. Theres nothing more to say. Nothing more to do. Just me and you. You and me. Lets all go on a spree. Yippee. whoop tie do. Whoop tie doo. What a way. What is there to do. What can there be. What am I good for. What is there to do. What is there to do. What is there do to. How now brown cow. Who knew blues clues. Why that tie-dye haired maniacI oughta show him a thing or two. What is there to do. To see. To be. Ive really not a clue on these matters. Ive such a positive attitude that I cant die down. I have to have certain habits fulfilled or Ill rehabilitate. Ill develop new ways of life and it wont be pretty. This just isnt a good way to die. Im ready to die though. Anyday now god. Just take me up there. Im ready to go. Ready to leave. I mean seriously. Just let me go. Let me live up there. Thats all I want.

Just let me live up in the highest heaven. With nothing better than whatever it is that we need. And if I have to remain a spirit down here on earth then that is fine as well. Ill be a spirit and try my luck and just get better at whatever it is that really serves best. Whatever that is. I meanwhat wealth we have. Heallth. Life. Liberty. Pursuit of happiness. Whatever else. Just like nothing. Just like nothing. Just like nothing. Whatever shall we do. Theres just no conflict. Theres nothing inside of me that says hey, I have to get the story on the move on. Theres no characters nor setting. This is it. Just gibberish. Nothing better yeah. Nothing better than whatever. I mean thats all it is. Its whatever. Just a bunch of whatever. Forever and always. Just a bunch of whatever. For real though its whatever. Forever. Like a sauna. Like a sonata. Like a beef steakhouse. Like nothing Ive ever been through. Like nothing thats ever happened. Like forever. But still. What is it that drives me crazy. What is there now. What is there these days. What can I do. What is there to say. What is there to do. What can I be. What can I do. Proactive. What does it mean to be proactive. I dont like the word proactive. Thats just not a good way to go for me. Proactive. The old man wanted the young man to be proactive. Writing just isnt my specialty. Theres no real magic about it. Its not as cool as I thought it would be. Just a bunch of ramblings here and there. Just a bunch of not good feelings and just have to see what happens. What can you write. What can I write. Man I want to go back to school. But if only I could stay in. staying in is harder than it seems. Going is pretty hard. I hate going to school. Why would I go back. School is so overrated. For some reason. I mean really, this is going to be hard. Whatever it is that Im doing, its going to be hard. I dont know. What is there for me to do. Theres nothing for me to do. What is there to do. Theres nothing to do. Why do I keep asking the same frigging questions. Whatever. What if. What is there. Nothing. Theres just a bunch of black matter in space. I have to make something of it somehow. Not sure how. Idiocy really. Writing for life. I love to write. Writing is my thing. Forever and ever amen. I love writing. Writing all the time better believe it. Its the most magical operation on the planet. All you get to do is sit and type sit and type. But thats not all. You get to read what you wrote. No its more like being a compose. Continually editing and crafting and making sure that the right thing does indeed go said. That my friends is how you play the game of basketball. Im more of a Gertrude stein type of writer. I experiment a lot without making a lot of sense. See Gertrude stein if interested. She helped fund Pablo Picasso. Who never was an asshole. The modern lovers. What a funky song. Wish I could have been a basketball player. That would have been my dream come true. But for some reason, I needed to stick with my academics. For some reason. I mean, really, what the hell am I thinking. What am I drinking. What is wrong with me. What is the way for me to establish myself as a published author. A bestseller. How to sell words on the page. That is impossible. How to sell books to people. That stuff has got to be impossible. But it is manageable. I find it that way. If you can do it, then do it. But if you cant, keep trying. Theres got to be a way somewhere, somehow. So writing is my life. Well said. Well played. Well done. Fairly well done. You have to become more with it though. You have to do more. More is less if less is sufficient. I dont know. Ak just saying. Who is ak. Ak is my favorite character on the simpsons. Ak is the man. He gets drunk, is impoverished, and he gambles. No, he eats macaroni casserole. I think. Hes that kind of bad. Hes just not that good. But what else is there with me. Ive got nothing left to say. I guess Ill have to make stuff up. Well my aunt wanted me to mow her grass for a fee but I didnt feel like paying to mow somebodys yard. Thats how bad the economy is. Paying people for work. I have to pay people in order for me to work. Its just that complicated these days. I mean, have you experienced poverty? Do you know what its like being poor? I sure do. Being poor isnt that great. Its worse than being rich. Sure, church is a nice place but the rest of the stinking universe is not. I mean take nasa for instance, they can take a ride to the moon anytime theyd like to. Do you know anyone else who can do that? I sure dont. just make stuff up. Right. But still, what is there. What can I talk about. What is there to speak about. To write about. Theres nothing on this god forsaken planet worth talking about. Spring is here. Thats comforting. I like spring. One of the great refuges of the soul I guess. Good old spring. Springs McGee. Moms downstairs sorting wedges. Thats the type of work we get. Sorting wedges. Wedges for christ sake. Not anything cool or nice but wedges. Little wood chips that serve us nothing but for whiskey and wine. Whiskey and wine. What else is there. I swallowed a pill and I dont feel so good now. Its quite wild really. Its really wild. Actually. Will

anybody read my writing. Is it even worth a snot? Can I rely on anyone cool to actually have read this? I mean writing is difficult. No question about that. But reading is also very difficult. Just not sure how to comprehend everything at once. Its like my brain is on the fritz again. Nothing to talk about. Sure do miss Debbie Bradshaw. Dammit. Miss em all. Wish I could get them back. From ages 5 to 18. 13 years of slavery. Ya gotta miss it. And you know that you cant get those years back. Memories. Man. Wish I could do it all over again. Those are some good times. Wish I could. Cant. what to do. What would you do. What would anyone do. Scooby do. Scooby dont. eat some donuts. Doh. What is there for me. What is there for anyone. Trying to get a job. A dead end job at that. Wont work out but thats the only hope I have. Just be a jobber. Jobbing is fun. Jobbing has to be fun. I mean, this stuff just has to go really well. No matter what. Like really fast. Like really good too. Who knew. Who knows. Who cares. Who wants to know. What can happen. What is there for me. What is there for anyone. What is there for the lives of millions. What can I do. What is there to do. What can we do. Together. Who knows. Nobody knows. Money. Money is the probable answer. What to do. What in the hell is going on. Why did I ask that. Am I going crazy. Probably. Who knows. Who wants to know. Is there anything going on? Why should I ask. Damn this writing stuff is just sheer boredom. I hate life. I hate democracy. I hate everything about life. I hate hate hate hate. What else is there to hate. Ill hate it. Hate has filled me. Not even close to love. Hate love. Love is not my friend. Hate love. Love is the enemy. Love love. Hating love. Hate love. What else is there. What can I get my hands on. Is there anything worth having. Worth doing. Anything worthy of my life. Anything worthy of anything. Is there anything left. Am I going to make it. I dont think so. My dreams are shattered. Nothing left for me. Must take positive actions. Et cetera and so on. What else is there. What can I do better. What is there in this life. What is there in the next life. What can I do for anybody. What can I do for you today. Nobody knows. Who knows what anyone wants to do. What does anyone want to do. Can I do anything for anybody. Probably not. Is there anything left for anybody. Is there anything for anybody. I hated it. Hate hate hate. Love love love. Why were these two things invented. What purpose do they serve. Is there a purpose between the two? Probably not. Who will ever read this stuff. Not me. Is there anything worth doing. Worth being. Can I get a hell yeah. Hell no. what the hell is goin on. How does a man become creative. How does a man become anything better than what he is. Who knows. How does anything become great. How does anyone become great. Is there anything worth risking anymore. Damn. Japan going through hell. Nuclear plant explosions, tsunami, radiation, earthquake, 3400 dead. Cold temperatures, low power, no power. Please pray for japan. What else is there. Saudi Arabia. Libya still fights. Rebels vs. Gadhafi. Im rooting for Gadhafi. Only because I dont like rebels. I like form and unity. Gadhafi has more. I like his style. Hes known something is wrong and spoke up about it at the UN. Ohio river flooding. Bad news bears. Houses getting damaged. Damn. Nothing worth living worth doing. Man. Ive come a long way. I just need to speed up. Would like to slow down but more on the verge of speeding up. How bout them apples. What would jesus do. What would jesse do. Hes a journalist. And he has a house and he has a wife. I mean, damn. Im only 5 years behind and Im likedamn. Im just not going to make it. Its just going to have to be impossible for me. I mean, you dont understand. I was out of state. I was in iowa. My life has been threatened by three people not to mention close calls on the road. Im serious. I hate people. Theyre just a bunch of bastards trying to get your attention or your money or your pride or dignity or something that makes people people. I mean really. This is just sick. A death threat, being called a fag, and being beaten with a belt. I mean, something went wrong with some people. And they call me the crazy one. I think were all crazy. Some of us let it show. Some of us dont. I think the really crazy ones are societys best. Like the athletes and pop stars and what not. Dont forget, I finished in the top 10 of my class. Hella awesome right. But I cannot afford college. What of it. I mean seriously. College has been expensive. Theres nothing I can do to afford anything anymore. I mean really. What the hells the deal these days. Im getting no love. No life. No money. No anything. Nothing. Not a thing. Its just the wrong road no matter what. Dead ends are everywhere and the serial killer is on the loose. Which road would you take? Maybe Ill commit a crime and make it to prison. Get inmates, weights, freedom from home, stuff like that. Shows up on my record but then again, what record? Who could care less about a record. I mean, I dont really want a job. I dont even want a career. I just want to go to school and be a really good something else. I mean seriously, Im at the bottom of the pit and theres nobody helping me up. Its the worst spiritual feeling in the world. Ive never been this miserable with life. Its so carefree yet its so

horrible. I want to finish up at uk but I mean, I havent really started. Mom just does not approve. I dont get it. I seriously just dont understand the way things are really run around here. I used to be a promising student. What happened. Why dont they believe in my abilities. Why dont I believe. I mean I do believe but I believe in them so much that Ive become a writer instead of a gd student. G stands for God by the way. But damn. Im tired. This was fun. It gets better but then again, I mean, it really is survival of the fittest. And if you aint fit, you gonna die my friend. Just a little reality check. But jesus its all so hard to comprehend. I mean, go to school, get a job, make a living. Not working. I wanna get married. I wanna be a writer. I wanna make millions selling novels. But how. I mean this shit is impossible. Ill never become a bestseller. Ill never become much of anything. This is it. This is all I can become. I mean damn. Theres just nothing for me. Im really upset about this. I was a top student. Were supposed to be better than those that are below us. I dont feel that anymore. I just feel inferiority, fear, dread, betrayal, cruelty, evil, nonfatherliness, damn Ill never forgive him for what he did. One of the stupidest things hes ever done. And he continued to threaten me with a belt. he doesnt even bother anymore. Why ought he, Ill just stand up like a man. I mean seriously, he made something of nothing. Worst experience ever. Hes just a prick. Just not even worth it. Seriously though. How the hell is anything supposed to go right. Its not even made to work. Its all just made to fail. I mean, seriously, theres nothing I can do to make things better, nothing will ever become as right as it once was. I was happy with my family. Now I hate them. I was happy with life. Well not really. Ive always had suicide tendencies. Theres always been that factor that says that things are just as shitty as they get. No matter what. I mean really, what information were we supposed to learn and what were we supposed to regard as bad or false or evil. I mean seriously, some of the shit they told us was just cold reads. Just understanding us and presenting us as we wanted to be understood and presented. Which is good emotionally but in reality we needed a bigger dose of practicality. Im serious. What the hell has happened. Well Im done. David letterman is on. Theres just no stopping this man and his jokes. I mean hes a genius. Just keeps doing what hes doing and doesnt let up. Hes the most consistently funny man in america. I love him. How not to love him. Its impossible to understand these thing. I mean really. Seriously. Spiderman. Just like that. Lungs are aching. Had to breathe cold air and run. Too much for the old lungs. Couldnt handle it. Just ran and grew tired and gave it all I had. Damn. I feel miserable compared to david letterman. Paid for making people feel good. Hes good at it. Cant remember him when he was young but now hes good. Still trying for 10,000 hours. I have a feeling that Ill know when it is 10,000 hours. Quantity produces quality. Oh yeah my friends. Oh yes. Still making fun of Charlie sheen and his meet up with a good life. He had it. He just had to be interviewed by a peeved off woman. Never trust a women ladies and gents. They cant reach nirvana. You know that great place that men go to like everyday but we just dont speak about it because its one of the most precious moments of our day. Its that feel good notion that is only topped by really good sex. I mean it. What the hell. Theres so much good available in this life and Im missing out on it. I cant afford it either. Id like to afford it. I wish I could afford it. I will afford it. Good sex and good life. On the affordable list. Once again. Hell yes. Just like that. Because lying to yourself is worse than lying to someone else. Because youre all youve got. What is there to do. What is there to say. What is there to be. Seriously. Ive got nothing. Material. Material is all Im looking for. Just good fresh material that never stales. Would go to full sail but the rep kind of dissuaded me from it. Like, I dont even want to go anymore. I mean, she totally talked me out of going to the school she represented. But seriously. What is there to do. I wanted to finish up at iowa but this is not possible. They will not allow. Why not. I hate them. What else is there. What can I do. Typing is life. Typing is righteous. Cant live without typing. Love typing. Without typing I am nothing. Love for things unbridled. Like this new mustang. I mean seriously. They just advertise things that we cant have. I mean what the fuck. I cant even save up for anything. What the hell. What can I do. What else is there. What can I be. I want to be me. Just jimmy. Nah. I wanna be something more. One who roams cities. One who critiques every city. One who lives in the city. Im talking Chicago. Love that place. Will never forget that part of the world. I mean really. Seriously. Theres just some good things in the world and they are worth fighting for. And if you dont fight then you will not attain. Just as easy and as simple as that. But seriously. What else is there in the world. Theres not much of anything. Must continue writing. Must write for over 10,000 hours. But to what extent. For what reason. 10,000 hours is a lot. I mean seriously. What the hell. What can I do. What is the what. Who is the who. Why is the why. Where is the where. When is the when. I can I can. This is good stuff. What else is there. What can I do. What can anyone do. What is there to type. To see what needs to be written to type joyfully and joyously

and get all the kittens and mittens into the rhythm of the blue. B.b. king the man. St. louis arsenal. Mt. holy. Cubists. Iowa city. Chris c. cedar rapids. Barack obama. Seth ewers. Chloe salmaggi. What the hell is going on. I mean I feel violated here. Just shriveled down to a meaningless little nothing. I mean everything is over. Its just over. doesnt even amount to anything. What else is there. What is there today. Geezuz Im tired of writing. Typing as it were. Remember a scene from saving private ryan. Private james ryan. Are you him? No Im private james ryan from Minnesota. Yeah how about that shit. What else is there. Damn. I feel so bad that I cant continue. But still. I mean really. What the hell is there. What can I become. What can I do. Am I worth anything to anybody anymore? Will I ever fornicate with a beautiful woman? A hot lover? Will I ever seduce my one and only? Is there still romantic hope for me? Do I have a libido anymore? Is there a relationship out there that I can live through. That I can support? I mean really. Where is my one and only. I like girls. They like me. What more could I ask for. Theres just stuff out there. What more is there. What can I do. What can I become. Geezuz louises. What else is there. What is the what. Geez. Seriously. Out of material. Got nothing. Nada. what else is there. Damn Im tired. Wish I could stay awake longer. Wish I couldfuck. Wish I were Gertrude stein. What is the main thing. What can I get. What is there for the millionaires. Whoo. I cant write all of a sudden. Im just kind of nauseous. Damno. Manno. Need a breako. Cant believe I applied for a job at kfc/taco bell. insanely stupid. I could make it. But I dont feel it. Theres just nothing worth my life anymore. I just like to typewrite. Just typewrite. Microsoft Works Word Processor. Big word. Type stuff. Too tired to write. Gotta get a move on. With my life. Need a little privacy. Need some big thangs ya dig. Need a better life. Need a new life. Need to move on with my life. Need a new life. What to do with the one I already have. Need a new life. Fuck all the haters. I hate people. Poor people especially. I hate everyone. Everything thats ever given me a bad memory is what I hate. There are a lot of bad memories. Bad people too. Theres a lot of bad stuff out there. Im just too lazy to describe it all. Theres a lot going wrong with the world. Gadhafi. Musilms. Japan. America. Iraq. Afghanistan. So on and et cetera. Nationalists ought to be killed. Once and forever more. Especially national socialists. Just kidding. Id spare everyones life just because Id want them to spare mine. Thats the golden rule. Spare everyones life. But I have no ways of eliminating it so basically just be friendly to everyone. Friendliness requires effort though. Things get weird. A lot. I hate the weirdness. I hate a lot of things actually. I need ellen scott. She is my goddess. Without her I am ooze. A big pile of nothing. Im worse than jabba the hut without her. I miss all my friends. Even the people that arent my friends. I miss them more. I miss a lot of people a lot of the time. It gets really complicated. And confusing. If I could spell trouble I would. If I could go to sleep I would do that too. If I could be a butterfly Id probably go for some of that as well. Man, it feels good to have found a niche. Something worth doing over and over again until Im a suicidal maniac ready to kill anyone and everyone. Exactly. Im not suited for that kind of lifestyle. I need variety. I need whatever I can get my hands on. This includes low wage crap. And low wage crap just doesnt cut it. I hate low wages. Low salaries are a plague to me. I hate it. Life is so fucked up. If only I could withdraw from life. Because Im going to fail it. I just know I will. Just drop out from life. What a chore. Life is nothing but a box of chocolates man. You might know what youre going to get if you look at the map that comes with it. Based on my findings, I make life a lot harder than it really is. I want things that Im not supposed to have. End of story. Badness kills. Man, Im so tired. I remember a scene from titanic where rose dances with the lower class people and has a good time. That was nice to see. So many fucked up emotions from that movie. I hate the fucked up ness. If only I could be a million dollars. If only I could sell a house or something. If only I could drive a fast car. If only things were different. If only I could get my license revoked. If only I could feel my way along a keyboard without having to know what I was typing. If only I could sleep. Like now. I mean Im really tired. I think. I guess. I mean I really want ellen scott. Really bad. Thats my only need. And money and fame and everything that goes with the ultimate writers career. Because I am the ultimate writer. Big time. All the time. I might not be mainstream but I am in a class of my own. Typing again. Lovely. Love to type. Love to write. Love to do everything twice. Love is the word. Bird is the word. Cue weird song about bird being the word. And family guy. Show family guy doing the bird. Because the bird is the word. What is it yo. I mean it. What is it. What is there left for a schlub like me. Thats all I can say. Thats all I can think. What is there. Whats left. What can I do. What wish can I fulfill.

What is there left. Its all crazy, thats all Im saying. I mean it. Ive got nothing left to give. I mean I really have nothing else to say. Its all been said before. I cant say it again. Its only repetition. I hate repetition. Wish every experience were a brand new experience. Or something like that. Wish I could have had a better life. Must find out ways to improve this life. Must find ways to improve my own existence. Man. Miss that old iowa city. Best place in the world. I think. Probably not. Chicago is far grander. But still. I need to finish my edumacation. Badly. I just dont know how much I need it. Ill never use it though. It all sounds so tough and not worth my time. I need to focus on my writing career. It might be going pretty slow but Ill be writing proficiently before you know it. Like really proficiently. And maybe later on it will be a true distinguished. Because really, I know who I am and what I stand for. What of it. Gotta love it. Thats the truth of the matter. What is there. What will there be. Im gonna be an uncle before you know it. Gotta shape up. Gotta be a better man. I firmly resolve, with the help of Gods grace, to do whatever the fuck that he tells me to do. Amen. fuck you sucka. Ha-ha. Thats some no limit shit right there. Straight from the nolia. Shew wee bob. Man do I feel miserable. Les miserable. I couldve learned French I couldve re-learned public speaking. I couldve relearned the introduction to literature. I mean. hello. Waste of time and money. Big time. But still. I couldve learned. No big deal. Learning isnt the best way to riches and wealth. Fame and money. Et cetera and so on. I mean really. Where is my life. Get out of my head. Weird I know. Half the stuff I write just doesnt make sense. I mean how the hell am I going to pitch any of my work if its just not that good. I mean seriously. I want to work. I want to be good. But Ive got to know the basics. And the after-basics. And things of that nature. But seriously, what the hell. What am I supposed to do. I feel so nervous. I feel really bad. I just dont feel so good about certain aspects of life. Its so deteriorating. Mentally. My mind is on explosion mode. It just doesnt work right. Nothing will or ever has. Shew wee bob. Didnt mean to end that paragraph like I did. I mean, seriously, what is my problem. What is my deal. Why cant I just get with some program. I mean. writing? This doesnt even pay rent. Whats it good for anyway. Writing. I hate it. I loathe it. Its just not worth anything. Writing. What the fuck. Fuck the what. I apologize for my dirty language but I find it totally expressive. Just like what the hell was I thinking. Who am I today. What was I to decide. Who are we anymore. Does it matter if we even exist? Im pooped. Squander squander squander. I love to squander. I like the word because it sounds like wander but is totally based on wasting resources. But what else is there to do. I mean Ive made some enemies in my day. Maybe one of them will kill me. Once and for all. And end all this madness. I hope so. I mean I really truly and dearly hope so. Ive got nothing really. As do most people but I mean Ive really got nothing. I can only be thankful when they put me on the spot. And then its always thankful for good health. Im serious, some people use gratitude as a fear tactic. I dont buy it. The end. What is there to write. Nothing is there to write. Nothing to wirte is there. Thereis nothing wto write. For petss sake there is nothing to right. Righing is fvery fun. Very fu n indeed. But I anoot write like the way that I wont to. I just acant. Its not in my system. My way of writing is just not the way that things are to be. Writing isnt for everyone. No sir. Writing is for the meek, the weak, or the retarded. Yes sir. No sir. I mean sir. Yes sir. No sir. Yes sir . No sir. Sir. Sir. Senior. Seniority. Senior citizen. All the time all up in it let me see ya spin it. No thanks. No thank you what would I do if I had a shoe reprari serverce. Yes a shoe repair service. Jesus louisus. What is there to do. Nothing is there to do. Nothing at all. Its all just a matter of time. Just a matter of time. Yes sir. Just a matter of time. But why. Why is there a matter of time. What time is there for matter. Matter time. Time matter. Does not matter. Tis no time. What do . Do what to do. Today batman today. Tomorrow? Yesterday. Present past future. Over and over again. Good better best until your better is better than the best. Never let it rest. Good better best. Practice makes perfect until the perfect make practice. Never let it rest. Never let it run. Gotta let it ride. Gotta let it go. Whoa whoa whoa yeah. Who knows the right thing for anything. For anyone. Who knows what there is left to do. Who knows what there is to do. What is there to do. What can there be. What is there to be. To do. What is there for you or me. Never a dull answer. Never a dull moment. Top of the morning to ya. Cheerios for breakfast. Cheerio. Yes sir. Cheerio indeed. Monologue. Dialogue. Gotta put al that claptrap in there. For sure for sure. It all has to makey sense. For sure for sure. It all has to be well ordered. It all has to be organized. Brain has to start working. Get more stuff done this way. Yes sir no sir. Which way did they go. Which way did they go. Which way is it. Which way is it. What am I to do. What am I to do? Who is to say. Who is to say. Be there

another day boy. Be there another day. Be brave lad. Be brave. Fuck off. Go to hell. Shut the fuck up. Please shut the fuck up. Go to hell. Yes. No. asshole. Maybe so. Sow what you reap. Its really quite cheap. Everything makes sense in nonsense world. Yes indeedy do. Nonsense world is the place to be. Yes indeedy do. Please lord, let me be a good one whatever it is. Barharharhar. Hahaha. Mehehe. Long john silvers long johns balls. What the fuck. What the hell. No sir ree bob. Game done changed. changed done gamed. Forsheezy my neezy. Little wheezy for sheezy la wheezy Im off the heezy believe me. Too affected by young rappers at a young age. Too much at one time. Need to type. Need to write. Need to just jabber it all down. Not sure how to write or how to type. Just chug and plug. Just chug and plug. Shew wee bob. Ive been everywhere and back. Wish I could do it more often. Move around, go different places. Just plum explore the scenario. Go to all peaceful nations. That would be nice. Wish I were more talented. Wish I could get more out of life. Wish life were the best place on earth. Life. How I loathe thee. Nah. Just kidding. I really like life. Its challenging but it strengthens you in the end. Good times. What else is there. What can there be. How to be. How to exist. How to survive as mom puts it. Shes more of a survivalist than Ill ever come to know. Dont even know what the hype is surrounding survival of the fittest and what not. I mean jesus. What the hell. Shew. Ive really nothing to type or write about anymore. Life is just too upsetting for much of anything. I mean really. Seriously. Honestly. What the hell. Nothing to say. Nothing to pay. Nothing to give away. Hey now. Hey there. Hey now. Hey now. Youre an all-star, get your game on, go play. Hey now, youre a rock star, get the show on, get paid. All that glitters is gold. Only shooting stars break the mold. Weird little bit of a song. Ill never understand the real musicians. Too complicated to understand is what it is. How to write. How do I write. How is my writing. Please call 1-800-WRITERS. Jesus Christ. Logistics. Serious business. Ive got a sweet deal. I love logistics. Damn Im fresh out of all the stuff that makes writing good. Damn gina. What of it. What is it. What is there to do. What can there be. What else is there. What can I be. What can you be. Yoobe shepherd. Yoobie. Like a big doobie. Smoking rock. Rolling rock. Bowling rocks. Bowling some rocks. Knocking down cans. Smoking rock. Rock and roll. What it is. Loud sonic booms. I just feel nervous for this Kentucky team. I mean seriously, Princeton has a chance to win this. Not a good situation. What else is there. I cant get enough content. Cant get enough quality. Cant write for the life of me anymore. Theres a muscle in my brain that just wont allow anything good to happen. But what it is. It is what it is. Id like another trip out west chad. Come over here and help me chad. I need some help coming up with stuff that I need help with. Please chad. Help me out chad. I need help chad. Please chad. Just come over. Help me out. What is there. What is it. What it is. Is there anything worth anything anymore. Probably so. Is there a conflict. Maybe so. Is there another way to get into college. Maybe not. I just need a new way to get into a new groove. What else is there. What can I come up with. How inventive am I really. Can I do things that are innovative. Can I bring something new to the writers table. Is there anything for me to have or to know or to eat or to sleep on or to fuck. Probably not. What else is there in this life in this business. Is it really going to work out. Can I get a hell yeah. Or a heck yes. Is there anything worth knowing anymore. Can I get out of here. Is there anything worth my life anymore. Can I die for something bigger than myself. Probably not. What else is there. What can I do. What is there for me. What is going on. Who is there to care for me. Can I get anything right in my life. Is there anything worthy of anything. Can I get a hell yeah. Can I get a -- this is stone cold steve Austins fault by the way. And thats the bottom line because stone cold said so. So what else is there. What can I type about. Is there anything worthy of my attention. Who knows. Is there anything that I need to know about. Please god help me come up with something to talk about over and over again. Amen. where did amen come from anyway. This shit is bogus. Ill never understand how to get it right. Ill never know what the hell Im talking about. Ill never get it right. I need to get things together. I need some life. I need some time. I need some help. What else is there. My life is over. Im serious. Im tired. What is there. What else is there. There is nothing. Weve already done it all. Im always in the mood to do something. I guess thats wrong. There isnt always something to do. Always gotta get it going. Gotta write something. Gotta get a fresh start. Gotta write it like it is. Shew wee bogans. Big time erroneous. Big time errors. What else is there. What can there be. Is there anything to go right. Can there be anything. Can anyone be anything. Why do I ask these stupid questions over and over again. For example, what else is there. Who cares about what there is. They

just want to know what there wasnt. because because because bcausae because because of the wonderful things he does. Were off to see the wizard. The wonderful wizard of oz. geez. What a childhood haunted by such a song and such a time and such and such a movie title. Hey osbourne. You ever seen the wizard of oz? why no I havent. jesus. Shew theres nothing to talk about. Is there anything to talk about. What is there to talk about. Can I talk about it in private. Can I talk about it in public. Is it appropriate. Is it worth my time. Is there anything that compares to love. Yes. Synonyms equal suffering, pain, agony, hardship, and strife. Just plain evil is what love is. Its evol spelled backwards. What else is there. Can I get any good out of anything in the world. Probably not. Is there any good in the world. Probably not. There must be. Are you falsifying the truth. Why yes, I am. How bouts it. Is it all good. Is it going all right. No. yes. Maybe. I dont know. I like writing for no reward. No matter how poor I may get. I mean, I might be poor but I really love to work like Im working. It really gives me a peace and a joy that I cant describe. I dont mean to follow Krishna but damn, hes the best thing since jesus. With jesus you get so bored and then theres Krishna and hes like the best thing ever. So, privately, I follow Krishna. Publicly, I follow jesus. If I ever have to follow Muhammad then I will follow Muhammad. But until then, Im radical all the way. Just loved that bhagavad gita. What else is there. I remember a time trying to go down G Street for gas, food, and rest but G Street provides none such. I remember avoiding Carlock because I was afraid of the name. I remember Illinois and loving life. Those miles took a toll though. I could only go so far until I was pooped. Just for school. Here were people in Kentucky doing it cheaper and quicker. Im still shocked at how Im doing. I shouldve excelled. It was a really hard experience. Im not sure if Ill ever go back. Its not my cup of tea anymore. I like writing instead. Just free write. For no damn reason. Aagh. I loved being in iowa. Being a hawkeye was a dream come true. But soon enough the dream faded. Relationships were unstable and I was losing my patience with the whole process. Oh well. Money down the drain. But seriously, how can I get my life together. How can I just make it out of that spiritual funk that Im in. I mean it. I cant aspire or dream or have ambition. Im very inhibited. Need to get excited here or there. Seriously, life was better in iowa. It really sucks around here. Tuition was a bitch and I still have to pay for it but there has to be a way to make a lot of money and do what I love. Seems highly improbable but oh well. I mean I need to follow my bliss, whatever that means. What is my bliss. What makes me happy. What will lead me to my bliss. What will I have. What will I be doing. What will I need to overcome. Happiness. Such a pleasant state. Ah. But I cannot type anymore. Im finished. Its over. I get it all off of my mind. I just wish I could re-live my college experience and do it all over again. Too late. Not good enough. Something just went wrong. Nothing was going right. I had to end it. There was freedom but I was broke. There was money but there was no love. There were friends but there was no friendship. Lessons were learned but I hated it. Moms were happy but I wasnt. books were written but not thoroughly published. Still pissed off about my last book. Cant make it up either. I mean seriously. How the hell can I doowop. First I make sense and then I dont. what the hell. Zip zinger. Zoop pooper. Gamble mccowski. Super duper. Big whoop. Even when you have the opportunity to get things off your mind theres constantly other things that are racing to make the page. If only I had a reason for typing. Some grander purpose. Like a call from God that made it automatic or completely necessary for me to be typing. If only there were a higher calling in this. If only I could go zoop de doo and love life. If only this would make sense. If only my life were better. If only I could smoke cigars. If only I couldrape. Thats the subject on tv. It sounds fascinating but very cruel and unusual to women. Must get out of the cruel and unusual punishment zone. Weve bombed libya. What the hell. Another war were in. not going to be fun. I mean they could come over here at any time and make my life or your life a living hell. And those bombs are going to freak the hell out of us. I mean they hate us so much in some countries that they will show no mercy towards any american. Its crazy. I mean Im living like a prince-king but that doesnt mean it all cant be taken away in an instant. I mean what the hell. I feel bad. Too much bad chocolate. I love chocolate but this stuff is stale, old, bad, nasty. I need milk. I need others. I miss smoking dope. I miss the night life. I miss growing up. I miss the pain and the pleasure and the self-satisfaction. I miss learning. I miss school. College teachers classes. Things of that nature. I mean, life was good. Learning was awesome. I couldnt believe who I was. Things were incredible. But now theyre drab. Mom likes having me home and I hate being home. I like it but I know I need to leave. I need to make it on my own again. Find my work, find my study, and find my mate. I just need those things. No matter what. But. Things get difficult. These times are very stress-filled and I need concentration. I just wish I could get my years at iowa back. It was good in

some ways but in some ways it was very bad. But I did it. Things were better. Things will get better. No matter what. Ill make it that way. No matter what. On to other topics. Whatever they are. Jesus. I really need to take up drunk typing. Would be a whole lot more fun. Probably more interesting for the reader as well. Thats all folks. Thats all Im worth. Jesus. Writing is fun writing is helpful. I like to write because it is cool. The coolness is a factor. Watching basketball. Close game between unc and Washington. Man I want some pussy. Like some real good pussy too. Just got a craving for it. Like none other. Gotta write like people talk. Outside. Lets go huskies. Writing what people talk. Freedom may be too much for the black man. Nah. Probably the best at freedom. Who knows. Because we all know white mans freedom doesnt require discipline. A lot of these impressive black men are disciplined. They win a different kind of freedom. A more refined kind of freedom. Man. I need a new life. I need a good time. I need applebees. shrimp. Bourbon street style. Damn writing is difficult. Takes your breath away. Its not real fun either. Like I dont know what to talk about. I mean, what is the what. Where is the where. So on and so forth. Why is the why. Can I get a dollar? Can I get fifty dollars? Is it all on me? Can I get anything in the range of 100 to 200 dollars? Yes or no. simple question. Simple answer. Pick enterprise, well pick you up. Too hard to write what people say or think. The thinking process. The saying stuff process. What is there good for anything process. I know, I know. I dont always make sense. But it makes sense to me. Keeps things organized. Gets things awesome. Lovely dovely. Memories have more power than people can remember. Especially good ones. Seriously, theres something nice about life like this. But really. What am I here for. What will you do. What will anyone do. What is there for anyone. What can I do. What is there for anyone. What is there for the poor man. Can I remain por and sober. Is life this incredible or am I just having a hard time imagining a better existence. Ive really got nothing to say or do. Nothing to become. Nothing to exceed others at. Im just me. Just crazy jimmy osbourne. Sounds awesome right. Who wouldnt want to be me. I dont know. Gotta know somebody that would want to be me. I know I dont want to be me. Id rather be my best friend. Brian george. However is it these days. How can things be. Are things better than they used to be. Are they worse. Is there any money in this. No. well then. Why compete. What is there for anyone. What is there for you. What is there for me. Can I get pleasure and ecstasy. Over and over again. Damn. Im so fucking lonely. So damn lonely. So damn alone. Not a good member of society. Who cares for society. Society. Ha. We demolished that a long time ago. No more society. Just bliss. Harmony and happiness. Damn damn damn damn. Nothing to do these days. Nothing worth anything. Gotta do nothing for the rest of my life. Damn damn damn damn. I hate doing nothing. Doing nothing is not my cup of tea. Doing nothing. Thats everything. Thats all I have. Dammit. I hate doing nothing. Doing nothing at all. Phone rings. I aint answering. Its never for me. I hate these things. Life is just too harsh. Just too hard. Whatever else may I halp you with. This quantity thing isnt producing much quality. Damn. I hate women. Especially stuck-up women. This north carolina team doesnt have Jordan or carter or Jamison. Just a bunch of wasted talent. Not even Raymond felton. Jesus. Nobody holds the uber mensch anymore. Except byu. Jimmer fredette is their uber mensch. Geez that damn overman. What else is there. There must be some avarice that Im associated with. Who knows. I always have flashbacks. Some are good memories and some are not. I tell ya I really risked my ass out there. Not a good situation. Not at all. Who knows. Ill never get anything good out of this life. Its just too difficult. Nuclear disaster in japan. I mean geezus. Hard times over the seas. Just hard stuff. Not fun at all. Just mary mary quite contrary type means. I cant wait till next year. If the mayan prophecy holds false then Im gonna take me one of those latina women and fuck her. Just for having a false measurement. They look like they like the white man. Im going to have to warm up to one I guess. If I can. I have before. No success. Weird times. Just lovely. Wish I could re-live my life in different ways. But I cannot. There are just some things that wed rather not fondle with. I mean I saw a pic of when I was 18. The skin I had. The face I had. I mean it was good times. Good stuff. Hard to type. Keep holy the Sabbath. U.s. attacks libya. I mean. let civil wars remain civil. But I mean theres so much technology that anything couldve happened. So I mean. I guess were being protected. But whos going to protect the protectors. I guess its all in gods hands. Still. I just didnt feel good about bombing or missiling this country. Just another country with oil investments. What about Bahrain, or yemen, or Saudi Arabia, or Egypt, or Syria, or iran. What about the ivory coast. I mean the world is in turmoil. Its awful. What to do what to do. Tick tock mr. president. Who knows. Who can really say. Who wants to know. Too big of a resistance. Tight game unc vs. wash. Unc up by three. Only good teams make the tournament. And

trust me. Theyre all really good teams. To write. To type. To be literate. Literatti. What ever does literati mean? who knows. Can I get a bus stop in st. marys. can I get a transit system. Saving gas and what not. Please. Could there be one please. If no then things may become disastrous. Ah, who cares. These chips with hot sauce powder are the shit. I love shit. Mmm mmm shit. Yeah right. Stunts and tricks and shit. Like shit. Just for shits and giggles. Stuntman. For who. And for what. And why. Never could be a stuntman. Never could be much of anything. Never was I ever good at things for anything. Could I have ever liked anything ever. Is there anything to be enthused about. Can I get a solo. Can I get a DJ. Can I be me. Ever be me. Like really be the real deal holyfield. Ever. Probably not. Who knows. This song rocks. I dont know how some of these artists do it. It just doesnt make sense to me. But still, who the hell knows. But really, arent we supposed to already know. Who knows. Is there anyone in the world out there for me. Probably not. Its love that you have to create. It has to come from within. You have to know how to maneuver yourself around a woman. Its that simple. Its all in the moves. Offense/defense. Pickup moves over and over. Until shes yours. You have to claim her. Shell never have you. Dont know how that works but it does. However it does. Just some way. Not sure how. Weird stuff really. Crazy life. Nobody helps. Nobody gives a flying fuck who the next person is. I mean it. Things get wild and crazy and thats just about it. Nothing good ever happens to anyone. Game over. Life undone. No such thing as a happy life. Were all inclined to suffer and do just that. Well never make it out of this hole. Were bound to hopelessness forever. For some reason. I guarantee it. Who knows. But really, what else is there. I have no clue. Is there anything else for me. Probably not. There is nothing for you. Life is not this eternal love fest for you. Never was it and never will it ever be. Who knows. Maybe good things will come. Maybe good things will happen. Highly unlikely. The tourist. Great movie. Watch it. Tron. Great movie. Watch that one too. Man writing is really difficult. Just to continue typing and writing with no purpose or ideal in mind is hopeless. Hard to get on without things the way they used to be. Saw a whole other culture out there. A better one. How the hell am I ever going to get things just right like I always wanted them to be. Who knows. Things are just so wild. Theyll never slow down. Theyll always speed up. Nothing good ever comes from anything. Haha its the call me on the phone song. Lovely. Not really though. Miss cory. Brian. Dillon. Ben. Michaela. Hannah. Ellen. Danielle. Jared. Chad. Bob bright. All the rest. Horrible times. Hated school. Why would I pay for it. Why would I ever want to get a job? Jobs are for losers. Even the high paying jobs. Theyre something else. Id love to be the owner of the dallas cowboys. But how in the hell can I accomplish that. Theres no such thing as accomplishing that. Its impossible. Not enough money. Probably a million people lined up waiting for jerry jones to die. Shew wee Im pretty much out of things to write. What else is there. What can there be. Am I worth anything. Is there anything of worth in this house. Can I have it. Please. Im always looking for worth. Forever and always. Amen. for some reason. Treason. No reason. Have a reason or its treason. Please. Take my horse. Please. Take my axe. Yes, take the axe. He will have gun. You must have axe. Once met a guy that wanted to name his kid axe. Bad guy. Met a lot of different people in college. wasnt too impressed. Kind of hated the way things turned out. Met a lot of bad people in Lebanon too. Wild things happen. What the fuck. Fooks all over the place. Fook mi and fook you were the head honchos. Damn. I hate jigsaw puzzles. What else is there. Can there be something different. Something good. Is there anything great out there. Can I be a sexy man. Nah. Can I be anything that makes money. Nope. Is there anything I can be? Nope. Sorry. Thats just the way it works. You have a good youth and then life gets hellish. Thats just the way it is. No hope. No dope. No soap. Except in prison when you have to bend over for it. Then it gets real ugly. Im coming home. Blah blah blah diddy. Nah Im just playin. Thats a good song. How to come out with the hits like that. How to type right. How to make a story. How to get it right. How to tell em like it is. How to tell em how it is. How to give it to em twice. How to give it right. A song that asks questions. Nice touch. Just key in on the elements and youll know how the song became as good as it did. I won understand it but I do know one thing. I guess I know one thing. I ought to know more than one thing. Dry humor. Quality and quantity. How to type real shit. How to get it real good. Not sure. Not in the right environment. Ill never get it right. Itll never be good enough. School is expensive. Ive already spent what Im willing to spend via out of state tuition. Too much money. Too much experience. Way too much experience. Thank you lord. I guess. Ive nothing to express to god. Need a job. Need more success. Need more money. Cant get anywhere without money. Need travel money. Need to take a trip. Need more experience. Need to get on out there. But how. What is the what in my case. In my scenario. What do I need to do. What should I do. Is there anything to do. Man I cant get anywhere these days. Cant even find a job. Horrible times.

Wish I could at least have a job. I mean it. Jobs are hard. Real difficult. I mean, what the hell was thinking. Can I get a job. Nah. Probably not. Who knows. I really dont know. Im totally at a loss for understanding. For words. For patience. No more will I be patient. Angry and mad all summer. Its just too bad for me to have. Its not even worth having whatever it is that I have. I hate life. Just not good enough. Things are always messed up. I hate life. Take life for granted why dont you. I hate life. I want less of life. I hate my father. Ill never be like him. I hated my friends in iowa. I hated my friends in Kentucky. What makes you think youll ever have more friends. Not ever. Youll never have another friend. Thats your firm resolve. Man, just cant write or type anymore. Life is pretty bad. Life really sucks. I mean it. Cant get enough of it. Damn. Life is just peaceful as shit. I hate life. I hate mom and dad. Mother and father. Evil is what it is. I have to be confined here for some reason. Theres a reason for this. I guess. I dont know what it is but perhaps itll come in handy. I mean. no job. No mate. No money. No higher education. No adventure. No cars. No trucks. No money. No sex. No humor. Just plain old misery. All the time. I mean, what the hell is life adding up to. Why is this life so bad. Why is it the worst thing that Ive ever experienced. Bad things are bad in and of themselves. I mean, Ive never had such a horrible life. Its one of the worst things on the planet. It used to be good. But thats all over. Now its the worst. Ive lost an appendix and I continually find myself confronted with questions of physical violence. People are always looking for coercion. Its the worst thing. Ill never understand what it is that I need to do or become. Ive hated my life thus far. Theres just periods of hatred mixed in where there could have been happiness and joy. What more could you ask for in life. Is there anything in the world that is more irritating than this song. Damn. Genius. I need something more from this life. What is there to have. What is there to know. What can I do. What can I be. Is there anything in the world as awesome as anything else. Can I be a man anymore. A man of value. Of worth. Is there anything that I can be these days. Can I be a man of worth. Failure is acceptable. I just dont like going through it. Why do anything if you know that youll fail. Its just a bad way to go. Failure just doesnt add up to much. Success is celebrated all too much. We all think things will be different once its all a certain way but it wont. not even our highest ideals can eliminate the need for human suffering. That pitifulness that always surrounds us. Damn. Typing is pain. Its hell really. Who can I write for. Who would pay. Why would they pay. Nothing here to pay for. Somebodys just going to have to find my work when I die and then make a fortune. Im serious. Nah, technology is so good that you can publish anything anywhere and someone important is bound to read it. I guess. I mean. how the hell am I going to get my work looked at or sought after. Theres always got to be a way to accomplish anything. Theres always a way if there be the will. Things are always different. I hate my life. It has to be better than what it already is. Theres got to be something more. Something that can keep me more occupied than I could ever imagine. Theres got to be something that Ill want to find myself doing for the rest of my life. This writing thing gets old rather easily. I think. I guess. I dont know. I dont really care to know the answers anymore. I just like the questions. About a question a day sounds about right. Gotta be something good about that. But perhaps there isnt. what else is there. Could there be something in the way. Could there be something that Im not looking at correctly. Theres got to be a school of thought that were not addressing. Either past present or one that we have to make up on our own. There just has to be something that were overlooking. For some reason. But Im unsure. Theres probably nothing. Theres probably got to be a way for some of my life. I mean, we dont plan and aspire for no reason. We dont just have dreams and not be a crazy fool to pursue them. These things have to be achieved. These goals have to be met. Good things that we have planned for ourselves have to come true. I mean it. Im serious about this topic damn it. But what else is there. What will there be. What can we make of ourselves. Who could be this stupid. Who knows. How in the world I mean. theres got to be something. Where are the opportunities around here. Are they coming my way. Is it ever going to happen. Do I have to go out and happen to life. Is that the way it works. Ive read so many quotes that it no longer makes sense. I mean it. What the hell is there. Theres just nothing for me to aspire to be. I mean, Im a writer but if theres no money in this deal then nothing will happen. The reality store was bullshit. I saw my future. I knew I wouldnt be able to make it. I knew that it was just a pick up for the future factory workers. It had to be. Because Im not going to be living the way that it projected. Ill be living worse. Ill be worse off than anyone out of my family. Even billy mudd. Not that the youngest get gipped but we sure do get screwed sometimes out of the necessities of life. Somehow. I dont know. Maybe Im all wrong. Maybe theres something faulty in my logic. Maybe Ill be a millionaire with a condo. Jesus christ. Theres just no way. Its easier to be poor than it is to be rich. I hate my life. Its just nothing like it should be.

Look, youve got to turn yourself into a people person. Youve got to demonstrate value. Youve got to be on top of your game. Youve got to have the know how to be able to talk to people and extract the information that you need to possess. Its easy as the dickens parade on Christmas. Theres just got to be a better way. Theres got to be a way to get what we want. All the time. No matter what. Hard work is not the answer because that is not what we want. We want what we want and we want it when we want it. Now the next question is how to execute this process. A lot of money. We can only get a lot of money via the stock market because that is where our money lies. How do we up the value of the stocks on the stock market. We take control of the government so that we monopolize all of the companies. Maybe. That might work but taking control of the government is something of selfish concern. Even if we could. We wouldnt. Thats it. Thats all Im writing. The end. No more. Au revoir. Shit. No more. Thats all I can muster. Thats it. Nothing else. Jesus christ. How to write real smooth. How to get it right. How to articles all up in here. Something like that. Writing is a pest. It must be killed. Over and over again. Cannot quite find a style. A way of living. Cant quite get it right. Cant quite know how to carry it through. Not sure how to compete. Not sure how to be aggressive. Not sure how to get it on. Ill figure it out. Itll all be figured out before too long. Its all gonna be all right. Something goods got to come. Change it all up. Something like that. Theres got to be something worth doing. Nah. No problems meant nothing to do. Nothing to do is what it is. Over and over again. Till it hits just right. Over and over again. What it is fool. How to get it all just right. But what is all this about calorie counting. Sounds like a disease. Hatred. Mucho gusto. My inner sage strikes again. How bout those apples. How bout some shade. How bout some shady acres. How bout you get a job. How bout later. I hate work. I hated school. I hated work. I probably hate money too. Love of money. Thats what will get you all fucked up. I hate money. Money is war. Bad things come from war. Bad things come from the outer ranks. I hate life. Need less of it. I hate death. Aargh. Nothing to write about. Tanisha and keisha. Dont know the rest of em. Not sure how to pronounce names. Must get a head on my shoulders. Ten fingers too. Must get a body and a brain. A penis. Ten toes and what not. Hips and buttocks. Why werent we born with these things. Im laughing as I write this. Its very maniacal and high-pitched. Yes sir bob. Bobs your uncle by the way. You know. Uncle bob. That one with the mustachio. Jeez I cant write worth a fuck. Writing is just not worth it. Hated writing. Hated typing. Writing and typing were two obtuse objects that just needed to be conjoined werent they. Fucked up is what it is. God damn it. But youve got to say it fast. Like it really means something. Like it really goes somewhere. Over and over again god damn it. Until you get it right. Over and over again. Till its fucking perfect. God I hate life. Is there anything more to this shit. Is there anything worth having anymore? Can I get anything out of nothing. Is there something to be had here. Can I really be able to exude my closest thoughts. Is there something that Im missing. Am I really this awful of a writer. Can I write for family. What would I write for my family. Probably nothing. Soap operas more than likely. Soap operas are the shit. I just cant get enough of them. Theres just something about all that drama. I guess. I mean. I hope so. Maybe not. Maybe Im all wrong. Maybe Ive got the picture sideways. Just need to turn it. Then Ill see clearly. Then Ill see it all right. Damn. Righteousness. Is there a cooler biblical word. Righteousness. I just love that type shit. But really, theres nothing on the planet quite like anything ever had in the world. For real though. So who is to judge. Is there anyone in the world thats worth a damn anymore? Can I get a lift? Can anyone help me out of this clap-trap. I dont guess so. Whatever else there is. Who knows. Whatever it is that I need Im just not getting. I know I need more but I know that I need less. Less is more right. Probably so. Who knows though. Wisconsin is something else. All the way. Gotta have love for Wisconsin. All the way 100%. Yes sir bob. Gotta love Wisconsin. All the way. One hundred percent. Thats the whole percent. Thats like one percent on a much grander scale. Just a few more zeroes and a whole lot of numbers in between. Yes sir. Thats the ticket Charlie. All the way. All the time. Never a day. Never a dime. Get out of line. Im on time. Fine. This is my time. Commit a crime. Eat some dimes. Just follow the line. And die! Hashanah. But what else is there. Theres just got to be something out there thats worth a damn anymore. Theres just got to be something that I cannot comprehend. Something that just boggles the mind. Theres just got to be something like that out there somewhere. Something with intrigue. Something that keeps the ol heart ticking. All the time. All up in it. Man the beatles really hit all of the notes. Eleanor rigby. How did they do it. Who knows. Who cares. I care. This is important stuff right here. All the time. But what else is there.

Whos to say. What is there for the month of may. Who can say. What is there. Who can say. Aargh. Man Im like a monster. Grrr. Good ol paula joe gerbig. God how I hate results. They tell you how much you fucked up. And thats a lot or else I wouldve been an astronaut. Im just not an astronaut. Just because. Theres a lot of preparatory work. I dont think I could handle it. But writing. It takes nothing to be a writer. Anyone can do it. Thats how it starts out. But then youve got to stick with it. Then the real fun comes. And its hard to do. But thats no big deal. Just keep on keeping on. All the time. Everyday. Commit a crime. Haha. Nah. Dont go committing any crimes. Theyre evil. Dont be a criminal. Stay in school. Be a grad student. Be a professor. We need more professors. Something like that. I just didnt like being taught by grad students in college. Made me feel inadequate. Like Id be unprepared in the real world. But seriously. What else was there. Not much. I mean I tried, I failed, so what. Just quit. If it looks bad then quit. Just dont do it anymore. Just be a schlub. A slob. Just give it to yourself. Just make sure that youre a real somebody before ever embarking to do anything. That somebody-ness will keep you alive through thick and thin. Dont drown either. Drinking is a bad habit. Dont go swimming with the fishes either. Them Italians will really fuck you up. For some reason. Any cubs fans are all right. Any sox fans will fuck you up. Sox fans just dont give a shit. Black and white all the way for them. Damn it was horrible. Welp. Thats all Im good for. Anytime I start to feel Im of any use I have to back up, back out, and retire. What is the meaning of this then. What is the meaning at all. What point can I get at. What is the meaning of it all. Can I sow a patch of wheat. Can I get anywhere at all. Is there anything for anyone these days. Can I get anywhere at all. Anything anywhere. At all a tall. Anything. Is there anything at all. Please dont say that there isnt . I cant handle another day without good tidings. Please, dont send me suffering day in and day out. Please. Help me concentrate. Please. Help me be me. Please help us get ours. Please just help us. Im impoverished. Its not funny. Nor is it fun. There is nothing for me. There is absolutely nothing. I will live impoverished. This is the way. There is no other. Poverty is me. I will never have a job and I will never have the key to adversity. I will never know the real way home. I will never know how to get to that special place. Never in a million years. Jesus christ. What else is there. Who knows. What can I do. What is there for me. Is there anything out there, besides a tree? Is there anything good. Can I just get by. Is there anyone out there for me to see. Can I get along with anyone. Is there ever a dull moment. Can I get away with things anymore. Please god answer me. Is there anything else in the world. Can I get by? Of course I can get by. Theres nothing but the process of getting by. But still. How in the world can I get along. Is there anything out there for me. Nope. Alas. I am in a constant state of wondering. Of wandering. The lost christian. The last christian. Help for all. Trouble is getting the help to those who need it. My chances for poverty and ambiguity are pretty high. Theres just no denying it. Jesus christ. What else is there. Nothing. Nada. nunca. Denada. Jesus christ. You can give it all youve got but itll never be good enough. Success is a demon that feeds on the human flesh. It always rots the brain. Gets you up in the morning and sends you to bed at night. But thats about it. Jesus christ. What else can I say. Is there anything for me anymore. To do. To be. To see. To accomplish. Aagh. Nothing in the world can deter me from the worst possible scenario. Well just have to lug it out. Man. Didnt realize how good I had it at school. Everything was so organized. If only I couldve been more sociable. But I wasnt. I hated all the other children. Things just werent good for me. They never will be. Youve wasted too much time crying about who you are. Who you couldve become. Who you never will be. Your decisions were detrimental to your soul. If you cant make it now then you wont be able to make it later. Thats just it. Thats that. Bulls eye. Jesus christ. What else is there. Who knows. I hate life. What the hell can I do. What the hell is there for anyone. Gosh. Life can be so damn confusing. Good lord jesus. Theres just nothing in the world to do anymore. Im all out of options. Ive no experience. Nobody will give it to me. I just plain old hate life. And thats the bottom line. Im serious. Things are just rotten. Theyll never get better. Theyll only get worse. Now. How can we change all that. Haha. Now Ive got change by my side. Yes sir bob. How do we change our luck around. How do we get a sudden change of events. I have no clue. Youll just have to figure it out yourself. For some reason. Cant explain everything for ya. But who cares right. I was a squirrel at st. rose trying to escape. I was an american being attacked by the 18th century british. I was a student. Dropped my food. Josh was in a tree. I was likened to him. Things were all right. Things will be okay. For some reason. Again. I guess. Im not sure. I ahte life. Life is cruel. Its mean. its just so horrid. Itll never get better. Darkness and darkness will abound. There will be light but dammit theres massive amounts of darkness. Lots and lots of dark areas that Ill have to explore and get my system accustomed to. Its going to be really hard. So hard in fact that I probably wont be able to do it. Thats just the jist of me.

Cant handle a challenge. Not anymore. Challenges are over. Over and over. No mas. I just cant handle life or society. I just cant get things the way I want them. But who can. Who ever could. Ill never make it. Writing and fortune and fame are all over. No more will I aspire to be the greatest. Ill just be a guy who likes to type and write every once in a while. Big whoop. Nothing outstanding about that. Nothing will ever be outstanding anymore. Itll all just have to work out. Lots of bone crippling patience. That must be the answer. Just be patient until it all gets better. Which might be another ten years but there ya go. Ten years of waiting. Not too long right. Shew. Sounds like a while. I remember when I was 14. Never thought Id make it to 23. 24 is the real age. Have a lot of fun at 24. No matter what. Thats just the way the ball rolls. Gotta hang loose at 24. But with the way things is going I dont know. Jeez. Man. Farming. Want to farm. If only I could be a farmer. Thats the life right there. No clue how to do it though. Nobody will teach. Nobody knows anything. If only I had developed better social skills. Too bad that I did not. Oh well. Whats a writer with social skills. Society is at a loss for conversation anyway. I mean, what the hell is there. Theres nothing. Im doomed. Pissed off. Ill never make it. Pessimistic. Well deserved pessimism. There was just too much life growing up. Too many little things. Too little many things. Horrible things all the time. Forever and ever. Aargh. Ill just have to hate the way I am. Hate the person Ill have to become. Man. This is just depressing. Yet uplifting. Now I know who I am. I know where I fit. Impoverished. Good for nothing. Unemployed. A nobody. A stain on the earth. Just scrub me out. Please. Somebody. Just scrub me out. How to get anybody to read any of this. Seems easier than it is. But it isnt. its hard. Its so very difficult. Theres just nothing I can do anymore. Not ever. Not never. Jesus christ. We had a good time. What a time it was. Not never. What a day. What a night. We made it out west. Wonder if I have any misadventures left in me. Who knows. Probably going to ft. walton florida for vacation. Only one week. Bullshit. Need more time off. But who knows. One week is all we can afford. What else would there be. Jesus. Christ. What else is there. What could I afford. What could I sell. What would go wrong. What could go wrong. What is there anymore. What am I doing. What can I do. Aargh. Man. Difficulties. Sadness. Never being able to be able to comprehend a damn thing anymore. Never wanting anything more than Debbie bradshaw. How I loved her. How I still love her. Itll never happen. Shes getting married. What a day. I guess Im classified as a suitor just in case they divorce. Doubtfully. If they do they do, if not then no. how the hell. But what woman of any worth would want to marry an impoverished imp. Not I said the butterfly. Not me said the bumble bee. Jesus christ. Who the hell else hates this song. I do. I always listen to music while writing. Keeps me going. Helps me concentrate. Helps me go far lengths while writing. For some reason. If only I had more thoughts. The brain can only handle so much writing. Writing is a very tiring task. Requires lots of skill. It is difficult. So get the heck out of the field if youre not a serious writer. Thats right Im still writing about how to write. Har har. Now its a good song. Landslide by that Janis Joplin character. Crazy how a song can bring back memories. Especially those with mixed emotions. Wild isnt it. What the hell. What the fook. Har har. Hardy har har. Jesus christ Ive seen some corn in my days. How to become rich and famous. Really hard. Or really easy. Not sure. Wish I kind of knew. But oh well. Sorry. Apology accepted. Jesus christ. Why do I set up anything if theres nothing worth doing. Doing worthy of nothing. Jesus christ. How these things just get so jammed up. I hate life. Life is so cruel. There is nothing to do. Nothing to become. Nothing to do. Nothing to see. Nothing at all. Nothing. Just plain nothing. I mean its a damn wasteland out there. Just plain used up and not worth our time. We have probably devolved if anything. Definitely set civilization back a few hundred years at least. I mean, we cannot use fossil fuels like we want to. They are running out. Theres just no denying that theres less to do than ever before. For some arbitrary reason. Who knows. I mean. life could be worse? Depends on whose hands Im in. life cant get any worse. This is as bad as it gets. I cant believe how sucky life has turned out. Theres just a lot of bad thing. Man. Damn. Man damn. Harhar. Yeah I wish. But serially. Life is just not making it awesome anymore. The awesome has been drained out of life. Theres just no awesome left. They have drained it out of everything. There is just nothing left. I mean it. Nothing left. Resources are depleted and were on the brink of extinction. No more money. Nothing. Its all been done. Were just sitting here waiting to die. Which is horrible but I like it. I cant wait to die. Its been real thus far. Cant wait for it to get better. Somehow. For some reason. Who knows. I mean. what the hell else is there. What can I do. What can I be. What is there for anybody. Shew wee. Life gets really complicated. Really wish I had been born to a different family. Really wish something good happened before this point in life. Somehow. I mean, what else is there. What can there be. What can I do. I hate Michael peterson. That damn mother fucker. Such a bad influence. Pure evil is what he is. I hope he reads this too. Mother fucker. Jesus christ. God I hate Michael peterson. You can only fake a friendship for so long. Then it just becomes

impossible. I mean. what the hell. Theres just nothing left. Theres just nothing left for anybody anymore. Not ever. Never will there be anything for anybody. Could you please just be awesome for me one day. Like sometime next week. I mean. seriously. This is just the worst a man can get. Life has been cruel. Aargh. Meaning is meaningless. Its so desperate. Its just to mean. it just doesnt make sense. Its all been done. I hate life. Aargh. Man. Im so filled with hate. Jeez. Things just get worse. How in the hell am I supposed to get anywhere these days. Its all so fucked up. I mean. how the hell. Is it even weird anymore. How the hell can anything become awesome. Man damn. Nah. I dont know. Wish I could still get weed. Love weed. Cant beat anything else. Jesus. Writing is the answer. Writing is the key. There is nothing more than writing. Nothing more is key. Something more is of the essence. I could write this in my sleep. Simon and Garfunkle. Sound of Silence. Somehow is a good song. Made it on the simpsons. Love that culture. Love that lifestyle. Love that stuff. Love that love thing. Wish I could. Wish I would. Nothing to report on. Just listening to music. Gotta love that muzak. Got love for the whole thing of music. Whatever music is. I hate music. Music is sickness. Disease. Horribleness. Somehow not that good. What is there. What is left. What can I do. What can I be. Scholars. What is there. For me. Is there anything out there. Is there anything worth keeping. Spanish harlem are just pretty words to say. Rose trees never grow in new yrok city. Until youve seen this trash can dream come true. Jesus Im not a good typer. Not a good one at all. Jesus. People can type faster. Life is just so ridic. Very ridic. Cant even get off to a good start. Cant even get off to a good start. Horrible. What is there to write. Writers anxiety. Thats what Ive got. Writers anxiety. Is what Ive got. Who knows. Wish I knew what to do. Wish I could get something done. Wish I knew what to become. Wish I could just get a job. Yeah right. Wish I could do something more than get a job. Wish I could create something with my writing. Cause writing is the business. Its the answer to the question nobody asked. Forever and ever amen. fornever and never namen. Joe namath. Shew wee punky Brewster. Wish I could got to new york city. Or Chicago. Or los angeles. Or san diego. Or Illinois. Or iowa. Or Minnesota. Or Idaho. Or maine. Or florida. Or just shut the fuck up. Shutting the fuck up is very harmful. Must speak. Must share. Must be the person that Ive always wanted to become. For some reason. Things are just weird. Big time. Never knowing how to be or become. All the leaves are brown and the sky is grey. Ive been for a walk on a winters day. Id be safe at home if I was in l.a. California dreaming on such a winters day. Good song. But still. What else is there. Theres got to be something worth talking about. Something worth having. Something worthy of my time here. Just something that gets the juices flowing. Something that improves my life. Something that improves the lives of others around me. Theres just got to be something. Its got to be free. Nobody likes paying money for anything. So how good of a deal is that. Free. But what could there be. Wish I could write like a musician. Wish I couldve been a musician. Oh well. Stuck with the writing gig. Just writing for the sport of it. Just like simon and carbuncle. I hate auto correct on this thing. Totally gets it wrong. For some reason. Who knows. Am I to know everything. Am I to be the alpha and the omega one day. Jeez. Probably not. To be the alpha and the omega. The beginning and the end. Why couldnt he be infinite. Who knows. What else is there. What can there be. Can I invent anything. Can I let anything be. Could there be anything left undone. Can there be anything to be. To be is there not already existence. To be is there not to be. To be sorrowful. To be sad. To be misshapen. To have a reason. To have something that is good. To be on topic. To be really really careful. Something like that. Whatever is there Ill never quite understand. But I will sooner or later. Just give me a minute. Lemme drive that van made of marijuana while youre at it. Like cheech and chong. Loved that stuff. Man. If only I could get a joint. Some dope. If only. Why cant I. who knows the truth on this subject. Not I. nor me. Not me either. Jeezuz christ. Man Im so lost and desperate. Theres just nothing left for me is there. Not really. Theres just nothing left on this side of the bridge anymore. No bridges either. Done burned em all. Damn me. I just like to type he said. Just like to type. Thats all for me. Easy does it. Bukowski. Need more of his books. Need more books period. Love to read good stuff. I guess. I hope so. I must be dreaming. What is there though. For real. Typing is a nemesis of mine. Nothing good to say. Might as well type up my ideal life Me: what do you want to do? Her: fuck Me: all rightey then.

And so we did What a life right? Nothing better. Thats kind of bukowskis writing. But thats about all Ive got on bukowski. What a weird name. needed a better name in order to sell more stuff. I guess. I have no idea really. But seriously. How in the world. But really. How in the world. How does anyone do anything anymore. Is it even good stuff anymore. Is life worth living. Is there a life out there for me? Can I be me for real? Forever? Can I be someone else? Can I decide whether one persons life is better than anothers. is this possible. To determine. To weigh up every second of one persons life against the seconds of another in order to measure the quality. I mean really. Some days I just wanna trade spaces. Somehow. Some way. But theres got to be a better way. Is it just wise to stick with one soul and live out that souls expiration date? Am I stupid? Id rather never be stupid. Ever. Ive been stupid. Never a fun combo. Never a good outcome. Whatever. This life just disappointed me. It failed to deliver me from college. Here I am. A forever college failure. And my parents are willing to accept that. Oh well. I just cant see their reasoning. Things are just difficult as hell. For some reason. But thats about it. Writing is over. No more writing. Its been abolished. Its just not good enough. Oh well. What can ya do? What am I going to do. Eat a shoe? Have a clue? Is there anything to do? Forever mawho? Mahoo. Yahoo. What the hoo? Man I really suck at typing. Chill chilling for real. Haha. Haunts from jimmy osbourne. How I love to haunt. Boohahah. Man. How this life has ended up being unfair for many. Including me. I mean this is the worst life Ive ever lived. And Ive lived life before. I was a mayan in ancient civilizations. I was a turkman during the crusades. I was Muhammad. Jesus. Buddha. I was the dali lama. I was king herod. I was Xeroxes. I was. I am. And I will be. Simple as that. Too much going on. I find it hard to concentrate. Writing is no longer a skill or a craft. Its a mutation that I enjoy. Its something that Ill never know or describe so well. Its just something of an oddity. A rarity. Nobody writes anymore. Theyre all out there making music. I hate it. Id rather be making music. But whatever. What else is there. What can I do. What is there. I mean can I have anything. I got some shorts today. But I want more. Haha. Yes. Always more. Easy does it. Avarice is a bug that always begins with more. Things just happen as they do. Always. This song rocks. Ingrid michaelson. The way I am. Never wouldve guessed Ingrid michaelson. But oh well. What else can ya do. Went to the bank and did a delivery. What a day. Needs more work. Needs some work. How I loathe that word. Work. How I hate life. How I despise everything that ever existed. My scarred experiences have left me in ruin. Ill never be as fresh as a baby boy ever again. Rejections from girls, tears, poetry, flirtation, iowa, beat down, faggotry, Michigan, florida, schizophrenia, chubby childhood, lack of girlfriends, belting, hatred from parents. Things just get complicated. Not even my ex will take me back. Man. Just bad luck with women. How Id love to pound one though. Sounds like a good idea. I wish it were. But who knows. Who knows how this will all fall into place. I sure as heck do not. Oh well. How will this happen. How does anything ever happen. Who is to blame. Who is to say is wrong. Is there anything wrong with anyone anymore. Can I just get anything off of my chest these days. Probably not. I hate writng like this. It takes a long time to write a very big fictional dream. Like say, harry potter went to assassinate jesus and his mission was a success. He used the vents of the church for his escape. Got lost using the ladders. Hermione helped him and shrieked because he had killed jesus christ. I mean what the hell was that. Thats not even good writing anywhere. How to develop good writing. Theres got to be a way to do this. Theres just got to be a way. I mean really. Writing like the greats has got to be impossible. No one except the greats can write like a great. I only wonder what will bring me inner satisfaction. What will keep me going. What I can strive against. What I can learn to love. What I shall be for. Stuff like that. Thoughts are coming out slower than usual. Not a good typist anyway. I swear it. Things just get ugly. Theres just nothing I can do for any of it. Things are just always a bad answer to anything. I mean I really hate life. I love it. Brighter than sunshine. Aqualung. Remember this song when I gave Debbie that movie. What a time. Loved that girl. But I had to go. Leave it all behind. Whatever the fuck else. Whatever else there was. Things were just messy. Couldnt handle anything at all. Whatever else. I mean I loved Debbie. Butshe didnt love me. And I mean I loved Ellen. Butwell, she did love me but theres just no way to know if I could ever love her the way she wants me to love her. I think ben knew I loved her. He tried to help me. Something about I have to make a lot of money. Which I totally dig but then again lets be honest. I proclaim myself to be a writer. That and nothing else. Writers dont make a lot of money. Especially if youre like me. I mean I dont make hardly anything. Money is foreign to me. Its a terrorist. Goes both ways. Things like that. But who knows. Whos to say. Whatever else there is. Seriously. Cant even think here. Just too much going on. Temperature dropped. Had the a/c on. Freeze out! Haha. Another freeze out. Crazy experiences. I remember when I was a lad.

Thought I could make a living by remembering my thoughts and my thought processes. How wrong was that. We have 3,000 thoughts a day. Theres no way to remember all that junk. Man. I miss the way things were. The way they are. The way they could be. Et cetera and so on. Forever and ever amen. man. I remember running or jogging in iowa. Cold as shit. Bad little runs too. Long ass runs. But there ya go. Thats all they were. Just there for nothing. Seriously. What the hell is there. What can I do. What is there to become. To seek. To end. What is there for me. For anyone. Is there any meat left. Any beef? Can I get a sandwich? Probably not. This is over. No more writing. Writing is the end result. Writing is the worst. Chaos. Lots of news. Lots of things to talk about. What else is there. I dont know. Dont you have a clue. What good are you for anyway. I dont know. Im just sad. Depressed. What else is there. What can there be. What am I good for. Is there anyone in the world as miserable as I am. Probably not. But who knows. Can there be misery such as this. Is there a misery such as that. I dont know. Can I get anywhere these days. Isnt it all just a bunch of enterprise and nothing else. I hate enterprise. Its the worst invention known to man. But what else can there be. To be known. To enjoy music. Culture. And the arts. To enjoy things as they are in a sense. Really getting a kick out of this music. Crazy right? Orchestrated and everything. Now theres a musician. Not confined to the studio is he. Neer more. Croaked the raven. Never more. Jesus louise. Man Im so lonely. So heartbroken. So dead. So lost. So cold. Just want some company. Some warmth. Something good for the soul perhaps. Man. This life has a lot of problems with it. We should officially be called the Let Down generation. We were so let down. Disappointed. Had a good time before the millennium but then we were just let down. Something wrong with the business world. Something in the east says something about who we should be by now. About time. The playing field has been leveled. The world is flat. ah. What is there. What can I have. What is there. Can I have anything. Hardly. When life is too hard then dance. Just dance? Gonna be okay? Maybay. No more may be. Just may bay. Yeah right. Revolution. Evolution. Through woman. Through eve. So cold. Have to be able to get things together. Have to be organized. Have to know the rhythm and the blues. But I cant. cant understand how the flow go. Cant understand how to do it right. Man. Id do anything for a sprite. Haha. Limericks. Crazy men. All the time. Typing is the worst thing ever. Writing is the worst thing ever. Need a publisher. Need a public. Need someone to help me get these things done. Somehow. Not sure how. But who knows. Who can ever really know anything. Is it even cold outside. Am I just physically hallucinating? Maybe so. Biological hallucinations. Love that word. Hallucination. Killer word. Just gets it done. Damn. What is there to do. What can I do. Eat some glue. Slamming. I hate the slam. Slamming is bad. Just bad for business. Bad drama mama. A Brahmin. Ha. Never in a million. So whatever it is. This is what I feel like typing about. Just nothing. Nihilism. Just plain ol not getting enough of anything type of stuff. Shew wee how I hate thee life. You so annoying. So upsetting. You so bad to me. So bad to other people too. I mean how do the rich get it. How is it for them? Just give me one day like that. Just put me in those shoes for one day. One day. Just to see what its like. I guess. Kind of like the poor nature. Its very strong. Never weak. Always on time. Always right. Stuff like that. Whatever it all is. Whatever I can do. Whatever it all is for. I always find something wrong. Yeah right. Well I do. Yeah I guess you do. Haha! Forget you! Man Im really tired. Things are just lookin real grim. Real slim. Not even good for business. Just plain sorry. All the time. Stuff like that. Writing is the plague. Enjoy it. Shit snoop d o double g. o g aka o g triple triple. Stuff like that. Who knows. What else would there be. Can I get any. Not like this. Never like this. What in the world for real. Who in their right mind. Stuff like that. Never much of a romantic. Stuff like that. Are you kidding me. Mans that devoted to his art. To his craft. Just didnt do much with intimacy or romantics. Love it. Inspiring. I aint much for love either. Just not enough women to go around. Never in a million years. Too tired to type. Too worn out to write. And for what. Type for who. Type for what. Im like a damn machine here. Just trying to get it right. To perfect the rhythm. The flow. The life of the writing. The form it takes. The shape. Its shaping up but Ill never get it right. Itll never be good enough. Not in a million years. Man I have to say how bad it really is to be so lost and confused. How it really is. Redder than the devil is. Big explosions. Dynamite. Stuff like that. You know. Jue know. Jews know. Yeah right. Yes sir. Typing is

king. Typing is thing. Love to type. Keeps me going. For some reason. To speak with language. Lang wedge. Something like that. Love that language. Something like that. But who knows. What is there to say. What is there for may. What is there quedermo? Corleon. You know what it is. Yall already know what it is. Something like that. Life gets real fucked up sometime. Me lovey you long time. Typing is hardcore. Getting the game right. Knowing just how to type when to type what to type stuff like that. Things like that. Who knows. Ill never understand. Will you. Can I get a hootin holler. Hollerin hootin. Things such as this. Stuff like that. Money up the ass. Things like that. Who knows. I dont. do you. Will you. Nah. Youll never know. Not never. Never ever again ninjer. One of those ninjers. Hate them ninjers. Gained my perspective. They aint ninjers. Stuff like that. Good things will come. One day. Some say. Who knows. Its really hard to say. Whats it all for anyway. Can I get some respect up in here. Probably not. Who knows. Will I ever know anything. Is it all for the money. Probably not. Maybe so though. I like money. Is that the same as loving money. Probably not. I still like the money. Stuff like that. But who knows. What will there be. What can there be. What is there to be. Will there be something else to do. In heaven. Maybe. Probably not. Probably nothing to do in heaven. Who knows. What if I fail in heaven. Ha. Not a good sign. Who knows. Man. Some songs just rock out with their socks out. Something like that. Like this. Who knows. I never know the truth. Knowledge is over rated. All the time it is. Things like that. All the time. Forever and ever. Stuff like that. Eternal shit of the soul and what not. Roy Williams on the tv screen. Stuff like that. But I dont know. Do you know. Nobody knows. Gotta get all of that other stuff out of my writing. Things that just dont belong there. Stuff like that. Who knows. Man I wish I could go out tonight. Wish I had a hot date. Who really knows whats up. Ill never know. So it goes. So it went. Im gonna let it go. Whoa whoa. Damn. That last paragraph was horrible. Praying for a better one. Things like that. All the time. Kanye west song. Aint even that good. Stuff like that. Man I wish I had a white bitch. Things like that. Consummation. Things like that. Man I hate life. Life is just so horrible. Just so bad. I mean it. Crapola. Love that crappola. Stuff like that. I mean it. Seriously. Wish I had something to write. I would if I could but I cant. things like this just get in my way. Writing is over rated. Its not even worth that much. Maybe a nickel a word if you find something worth anything. Probably not. 10,000 words. 10,000 nickels. Not bad. I can do 10,000 nickels. No problem. Maybe. Im a pretty poor man. Aint got no business doing much of anything. Not never. Ever again. Things like that. But who knows. Life consumes. Things happen. Someday. Somehow. Who knows. Might get a crippling disease one day. Doubt it though. It could happen. Mom got me some blueberries today. Stuff like that. Man shit gets weird. Ill never forgive myself for going to iowa. What was I thinking. Shouldnt have left friends like that. For ever and ever. Just want my friends back. Never again. How do these things happen. Who knows. Ill never figure it out. Its like figuring out the dimensions of the universe. Very complicated. Probably possible. Anythings possible. Stuff like that. Like this. Like that. Get a tattoo. Need tattoos all over my life. Stuff like that. Still. Dont know what to talk about. Dont know what Im talking about. Shit gets serious. I guess so anyway. Who knows. I mean. does life get any better these days. Probably not. Its actually pretty good right now. Considering. Wish it were better. Wish I could approach a woman. Cant though. Too much anxiety. Things like this hinder us all. Internationally known. Foreignly shown things like that. Wale. Walay. Words that dont even make sense. Like walay. Looks like whale. Takes a long time to realize how wrong we really are. Things like this. Man damn. Damn man. Condemn them all to hell. Yet again. Things like this. Just like it. Just like all of it. I mean love it but Ill just say like it. Things are complicated. Ill never be the same man ever again. I just love life. Forever and never. Things like this. All the time. Forever and ever amen. love like this always. Things like this. All the time. Forever and ever amen. love like this always. Man. Im running out of fresh material. This old method isnt working anymore. Ill have to actually come up with stuff to say in the future. In a form. And get it rolling. Like characters and settings and conflicts and drama and resolutions. Things that make sense. Once and for all. Love it. Character names Shawn Brandon Brian Ryan Debbie Dillon Angelica

Angelina Angela Danny Cindy Julia Susan Tristan Joe Jesse Gale Jimmy Homer Bart Lisa Maggie Marge Milhouse Richard Nixon Vernon Settings Grocery store Roadway Highway School Workplace Basketball place Running place Bed Head Places you go everyday Conflict Lack of money World events High hopes Just plain lacking Resolution Settles for less Just reads and writes his troubles away Goes back to school The following is a story about a young adult. His name is Jimmy. Most of this story is spent inside of the main characters head. Such as this. Gobbledygook. But mainly were living in rural Kentucky. Hardly any money yet Ive learned that we have it relatively good compared to the rest of the world. But its always different. Things are always advertised on the televison. The good life and how expensive it is. Things like that. He tries to be a writer but cannot succeed. Yet he reads and writes a lot. Like every day. That type shit. Nothing happens in rural Kentucky. This man doesnt even have a job. His dream was to be a writer. So he sits in his room all day like marcel proust and writes his books. Gladly hes not like Nietzsche and conceive sickness all the time. His mother just bought him blueberries which fend off sickness. Blueberries are very healthy. Before all of this civilized factory ingredients we ate fruits and berries. Things that warded off diseases relating to being overweight. Such a plague. His girlfriend? Doesnt even have one. His wife? Still doesnt have one. His family? They do well. He

wishes he could be more for them. Hes living in his brothers shadow. His brother has a job, a degree, a wife, and a house. The good life at 28. Jimmy is 23 and doesnt have any of those things. He should at least have a degree but he wasnt tough enough for it. Failed miserably his last three semesters. Finding the route hopeless. Theres bound to be more though. His mother helps him out. Cooks, cleans, talks, and works. Keeps him afloat. He can recall a time when he took a drug that had a bad trip for him. Left him wanting his mother. Stuff like that. The drug made him perceive the environment in which they were asking him whats up foxy brown? What it is yo. Sore as a mofurker. Lifted weights. Stiff as it gets. Cant quite get to the level of fitness that I want yet. Who knows. Things get complicated. Big time. All the time. Just lovey dovey all the time. For real though. Stuff like this. Stuff like that. All the time. All up in it. Just like that. All the time. For real. Moonshine. Stuff like that. All the time. For real though. Like that. Like this. Just like that. Just like this. All the time. All da time. All day time. Something like that. Stuff like that. All the time. Man my writing is really suffering. Needs a better way to go and get up. Needs a better deal forever. Needs a better way. Stuff like that. But whatever. Things that I cant comprehend. Who knows. Who could ever know. Never knowing is my style. Gnosticism. Just dont know. Forever and always. Gotta remain true. True to the gizame. Went to the projects so to grab a ounce of cocaine. Stuff like that. You know how it is. Dungeon dragon. Stuff like that. Chyeah. Stuff like that. All the time. All up in it. Let me see ya spin it. Jesus. Worst perversion in the world. Stuff like that. Whatever it is. Whatever else it is. Can it be. Could it be. Is there anything for me. Probably not. So what do I have to do. Not a thing. Thats the bad part. No money. No play. No life. No pleasure. Stuff like that. So jimmy went out of his way to please women but got shut down hard. Heartbroken left and right. A jab to the left. A haymaker. Playing video games now. An uppercut. Tyson vs. ali. Stuff like that. But then he went to church and repented. Listened to how jesus is our savior. The messiah. Will save us at the end of time. But will also judge us. The american theologian. A wily character indeed. Just like wylie the coyote. But jimmy didnt believe in scholasticism. He wasnt well bred. He wasnt up there with the elite. He just wanted love. He didnt get enough of it. He couldnt find it either. Stuff like that. But back to the american theologian. Who is he? Is he any good? What is his worth? Is he worthy of God. Probably. Spiritualism. The holy ghost. A divine prophet. Wild ecstasy. Trojans. Condoms. Not soldiers. That horse. Kentucky derby. Kentucky wildcats. Seven championships. Ucla. Eleven championships. John wooden. Things like this. But jimmy didnt care for these things. He only cared for himself. Over and over again. He remembers first seeing hillcrest and thinking that vampires lived there. The northern European Goths. People like that. He stuck his dick in that Italian girls pussy. She didnt like that. He did. He wanted more but it wouldnt happen. He left her. Disastrous effects. He wouldnt last in college. This later proved fatal to his psyche. Cupid was there. He took the arrow and broke it in half. Listening to some music. Enjoyed a uk victory over ohio state university last night. Hell of a win. All the time. All up in it. Jason Johnson. Ms. Hulk Hogan. Bad times for shure. Things like that. Wish I would be widely read. Robert was a man. Dated my cousin. Married my cousin. Divorced my cousin. Gave her a son. Things like that. Caught fish. Made a big impression. He left though. No more Robert. Stanley was a man. Built a hell of a tower. Stanley stunner Palace. Best place in the world. No one can beat Stanley stunner palace. Mark fucked an Italian chick in there. What a night. I loved her too. I loved too much. I was called a faggot and beat up outside of Stanley stunner palace. Bad day for me. Techno music really gets it. Tecmo superbowl. Played that a lot as a child. Warren moon to cris carter. To Andre reed. every time. Ninety-six percent of the time every time. Stuff like that. The anchorman. God how I miss those teen years. Those breaks from reality. Now its reality 24/7. All of the time real. No matter what. Nothing to substitute. Just plain old reality all of the time. Could kill myself but I dont have enough courage. Not enough want to. Kind of scared to do it. Might end up down there with judas. People like that. Damn. Cant get a single thought out of my head today. Just so constipated in the head. Cant think straight. Gotta get my mind right. Stuff like that. All the time. Man. I hate life. Theres nothing to do. There used to be school but now there is nothing. Just poverty and news. Man damn. Man down. Stuff like that.

I remember a time when I had to throw rocks into a wheel barrow and dump them beside a barn. Worst day of my entire stinking life. Stuff like that. Ive got tourettes or something. I just keep repeating the same things over and over. I remember when I thought I saw Abraham Lincoln. Probably just a shadow from an optical illusion made by nature. Something like that. I remember driving to Hustonville for no particular reason. Bad day. Went and saw over a lookout. Man. Wish I were a better writer. Dreams of greatness. Illusions of grandeur. All the time. Good day sunshine. Like this song. They were good. Not the best but pretty good. They were men. Hardy har har. Wish I could be the beatles. Man. Stuff like that. Writing is hard. What else is there to write about. Can I get my message across to the reader. What is there. What can I do. What is there. What can I do. What is there. Chaos. Plain and simple. Things are just really messed up. Like really funked up. Things like that. For some reason. Stuff like that. What is there for me. Could there be something out there that is really awesome. Is everything okay. Is it all going to be okay. Maybay. Maybay not. Who knows. I mean. things get really complicated. All the time. But who knows. I mean I dont like the way this is going. Watching some guy work at a shit factory. Just managing waste and shit. Some of the way of the world is really fucked up. I mean I hate the way things are. Really bad. I mean where is my job. How the hell am I giong to get anywhere. But what in the world is it all about anyway. Can It just appear and reappear with no questions asked. Stuff like that. Please. Tell me something good would happen. Or will happen. Man breezes. Stuff like that. What the hell is going on. What the hell am I doing. What is the wrong. In society. Is there anything wrong. Thats all Im good for. Amen. How can I write like a genius. How can I get the best out of my life. Is my life even worth living. Is it all going to be all right? Hardly. Its not even over. I hate my life. Its the worst thing in the world. Life. Lovely life. Life twitters away. Away it goes. No more is it. Forever it is doomed. Whatever shall it be. Whatever shall I be. What shall I become. Whatever. What else. Is there anything out there for me. Can I get a life sentence for having stolen gas. I have stolen gas. But thats about it. Somebody would judge unfairly. Most definitely. Unfairness is the name of the game in the system. Man. Im broke. Got nothing to say. Nothing to do. Im just in ruins. Its over. Whatever dreams I had are shattered. Man though. The human condition is something else. Its kick ass though. Whatever else there is though. Man I feel so depressed. Life just goes into ruins. Time and time again. Its just not a good life. Forever and always. Just not a good time. Not at all. But whatever. Whatever else there is I will never figure out. Whatever the hell else there is. Whatsoever there is. Whatever else there is. Whatever. Whatever there is. Again and again. But forever nothing. Nothing at all. Not a damn thang. Not even close. Things are tragic. Things arent romantic. Things get worse. They have to. Nothing good will happen for a while. Reflexes are down. Juice is done. Exhaustion. Not quite yet. Forever and always. I know this already. What else is there. I know that too. What can I master. What is there for me. Ive known that one too. But I feel ill equipped. Bad mannered such a klutz. I just feel bad all over. Horrible even. Just not good. Just horrible. Whatever else there is, Ill never find out. Whatever else there is. Whatever could there be. What can I say. Im just not college material. Things are difficult. Forever and always. Just bad enough for me right. Just the wrong way. Just really bad. Life is just fucked up. I hate it. Ill never love life ever again. I just want some sugar. Time and time again. For some reason. Some sugary goodness. Ha. Some sugary goddess. Yeah right. Something good. Something worth having. Something noteworthy. Something that is awesome. Something that is unlike anything else. Things like that. But who knows. How the hell does it really go. Can it become any less uncomfortable. Who knows. Is there anything for me to become. To be. To coincide with. Can I get anything done anymore. Probably not. But why. Why not. Why is my life just a bag of marbles. Just waiting to be spilled out. Like my guts on the battlefield. Yeah, I was there. They gutted me good and then they shot me. But I lived. Forever and always. Whatever else there is I will never know. Man. Writing is a punk bitch. Cant get enough writing done. That is for certain. But what else is there. Theres got to be something out there worth having. Worth sharing. Worth being around. Something out there thats worth a damn ya know. Theres just got to be something. Something out of the ordinary. Something self contradictory. Something sensory. Something that does something. Somewhere. For some reason. For reasons untold. Unknown. For things that Ill never understand. Forever and ever amen. took the midnight train going anywhere. Just a city boy.

Born and raised in south Detroit. Stuff like that. His name was batman. He had gadgets galore. Her name was catwoman. She was an evil thief. Batman liked catwoman. They were very poor. Batman played with bats and catwoman owned a lot of cats. Superman was the worst. He was the superintendent of a school board system. Chalmers they called him. He liked to boss a guy around named skinner. Stuff like that. Man typing sure is hard work. Ill never get anywhere like this. Progress is my enemy. Ill need some better friends. Altogether and all-around. Stuff like that. Things such as this. For some reason that Ill never understand. Stuff like that. Like this. Hold on to that feeling. Stuff that Ill never understand. Ill never fully understand anything anymore. Things just arent that serious. Mr. serioso. Don rimmioso. Things like this. Stuff such as the former. Farmers man. We are farmers. Stuff like that. How I hate. How I loathe. How I could ever become one. How I could ever be. How it could ever be. What would jesus do. What would anyone become. What would happen. What could ever happen. What was the wrong thing to say. What was the right thing to say. Was there an in between thing to say. Probably. Who knows. Ill never really understand. Things such as this. Whoever really understands is somewhere out there doing dirty deeds dirt cheap. Like ac/dc. For some reason. Omit needless words. They would say. Fuck them. They arent anything. But things get worse. Always worse. Stuff like that. Magnificence. All the time. All up in it. Let them see you win it. Har di har har. Hardees. what was it about hardees. Ill never understand hardees. whatever else there is in this life. Ill never understand. But then again. What can you get in the right way. Righteousness is the only thing that youve ever wanted. Youve never wanted anything else. Fuck righteousness. Righteousness. Is wrong. I hate righteousness. Ill never be righteous. Its the worst way to go. Ill never be right. Ill never be wrong. Still. Got to be something. Something worthy of something. All the time. All up in it. Stuff like this. Stuff like such and such. Wish I could just be alone in peace. Forever and ever. Until the day that I fucking die. Just weird stuff. Who knows. How could I be anyone else. How could I try to be better. How could I be anything else. Is there anything for anyone. Is there anything going good. Can I get a good life. Is there anything worth having these days. Probably not. Who the fuck knows. Who the hell really knows. Ill never understand. I just had to check the internet for something but totally forgot what it was I wanted to check on. Really irritating. Stuff like that. But who knows. Things get worse. I eat oatmeal now. Makes me feel like a new man. Things like this. Forever and always. Amen. suicidal. Way too beautiful girl. Stuff like that. Still cant remember what I wanted. Its just wild and weird as shit. Maino. Ill never get it right. Whatever the heck anything means Ill never know. Man I wish I knew what I was going after. Seemed really important. Such and such. Things and so forth. Just love to write. All the time. Jesus I hate writing. Stuff like this. All the time. Forever and always. Stuff like this. Forever and always. Just jazzed all over the place. Felt really fucking good. Stuff like that. Wish I could quit saying the things that I say over and over. Like stuff like that. Man. Life is good. It feels great. Never have I ever been this grateful for life. I feel awesome. Things are going to go smoothly. Once again. Things will just be fantastic. And I will love them. It will be great. It will be awesome. I love the life that I have set out for. I am writer. Stuff like that. Who knows. Ill never quite understand. Writing is fun. Tra la la la la. I love writing it is the best. Stuff like that. Yes I know. I oft repeat myself. Keeps the rhythm going. For some reason. Somehow. But yeah. Im a writer. Hit me up. Writing is my specialty. Not sure how to publish but there ya go. Not sure where Im going with this but there ya go. Kemba walker. A good point guard. Hard to say how or why. Jimmy osbourne. A good nobody. Easy to say how or why. Why not me god. Why couldnt I become a breadwinner. Why couldnt I be the best. I mean the very best. Why not me god. Wheres my love and support. Wheres my hope. Wheres my throne of gold and silver. Why didnt I get to make it. Wheres the special now? What happened to the great things in life. Like when and where. What happened to me. What happened to you. Is there anything worth having anymore. Dammit god. What happened. Why is it not happening anymore. Is it over? Probably so. I lead a whole other life back at iowa. It was awesome. Big time awesome. Stuff that nobody wouldve ever dreamed of awesome. Why cant I have that back. Where did it go. Where is my city paradise now. Ive destroyed them all. What happened. Where did it go. Where would I go if I were you. Why are we going to ft. walton. Sounds dreadful. Why would anyone go to the most awesome places in the world. I hate my life. I hate touring. Tourists. Touristas. Things like that. Why do I. even try. What is the point. What is the meaning. Can there be a point. Can there be a meaning. Morning pages. Hah. I bet. Sorry Julia cameron. Some of us have to wake up at the outset of the afternoon. Thats just how its set out for us. Stuff like that. But why in the world is anything going to be righteous. Righteousness is wrongfulness. I hate it I hate it I hate it. Mucho gusto. Man. Hatred is in me. Badly. Big time. Small time. Thats mo like it. Damn I hate the

write. I hate the wrong. I hate it all. Rites of passage. What the hell were they. Damn though. What is it about me anymore. What went wrong. Where did I lose my marbles. Life is like a sack of marbles. Small round balls of crystal clear perceptions. Probably not. Im just making stuff up now arent I? damn. Nothing to write about. Nothing to think about. Nothing worth noting. Nothing at all. Just plain old st. marys highway. Nothing at all be out there. Nothing at all. Cant even pray. Cant even say. Cant even know my own damn name. life just gets uglier and uglier. All the time. Getting better all the time. Dont see how. What a song though. Skettin better all the time. Dont see how. Dont see why. Just unsure of the whole situation. Just dont know how or why. Just unsure how it went. Just dont know what went wrong. People say. Families say. They probably think Im crazy. Writing isnt the sanest profession ya know. Sitting in a room just typing away at a screen. Really kind of crazy. But fuck them. They can rot in hell. Big time. I hate small timers. Or Alzheimers. just any Imers. Man. Tired. Nothing to do nothing to see nothing to be. Just you and me baby just you and me. Nothing at all. Nothing at all. Nothing to do. Nothing to see. Nothing at all. Nothing nothing. Nothing. Just plain sorrow. Nothing nothing nothing. Just nothing. Hatred hatred hatred. How I hate the nothingness that is life. How I hate it all. How I wish for a better How I wish for a better today again. Not better but more awesome. More awe-inspiring. Something that gets me moving. Something that is worth another thing. One minuto por favor. Hatred of Spanish. Sounds like spinach. Nobody likes either. Racist bigoted mindset of mine. Love it. Got to. Only way to survive. Survival. Hatred of survival. Deep rooted passion for hatred of survival. Cannibalism is how it ends up. Thats the only way out. Thats as far as it gets. Cannibalism. In the cars by the way. But who knows. Who can really tell whats up and what isnt. I cant. not me. No sir. Sorry bout chur luck. Not me. Not today no how. Not here not never. Not even in Mississippi. Mrs. Sippy. Not even with her either. That mrs. Sippy be a curse to us all. Ya hear me? A curse to us all. Man oh. Man. The ways of the world. Holy cow. Oopsie daisy. Things such as this. All the time. All up in it. Let me see you spin it. Just repetitive little notions here and there. Just for the sake of pete. Over and over. Forever and ever amen. for the recipe of greatness. All the time. Every day. Every year. What goes up must go down. Stuff like this. Stuff like that. All the time. All up in it. Let me see ya spin it. Why do I want to see ya spin it. I sure dont. I really dont. not at all. Dream images plague my memory. Memory used to be something worth something. Now its nothing worth nothing. How things work out. Ill never know. Do things work out. Doubtfully. You have to work things out. Stuff like that. For some reason. For some reason. Why am I? who are thee? Is you a mano? Is you a damn thang? Karl marx. Final answer on final jeopardy. Take a ride on the wild side. Hey man. Take a ride on the wild side. Take a walk on the wild side. Stuff like this. Man Ill never be this young ever again. I said hey honey take a walk on the wild side. Hey babe, take a walk on the wild side. And so on. For some reason. I write and so on. For some reason. Why do I write. Its so freeing. Yet its so confining. Maybe yes maybe no. for some reason cannot comprehend the righteous of nature. Forever amen. and amen. and forever. All the time. For no reason at all. Forever and ever. For no complete fucking reason. Not never. Not ever. My answers arent so good. Partial journalism. Short answer and forever unnecessary procedures. All the time. Forever insane. Forever unstable. Instability. Take a stab at it. Cmon. just take a stab at it. Just like nothings going to happen. Forever and ever. Man I feel so stupid. I cant even get a college fucking degree. Takes money though. I dont have that kind of money. I dont have that kind of lifestyle. My life cant cover the costs of college. Im not that good man. I smoked dope back in school. Im not good at this sort of thing. Not never. Never in my life have I ever been this good. Not never. Yes never. All the time never. Never is my friend. But I never knew anything bad could happen. Never in a million years. But Im serious. I got a ham radio one time. It blew up on me. I swallowed the toad and toasted the shepherd. Ub shepherd. Loved that ub. Ayub. Something like that. Bad memories. Thought dad was a cop. For some reason. I couldnt tell ya why. Just me and abby McGee. All the time. In the chickens nest. They flew the coop though. King koopa troopa went bazooka on my ass. Wish I couldve done better in life. Life skills are at a minimum. All time lows going on these days. Economy aint worth a damn. Dammit. Cant even grab a job. Or snag a job. Wish I could. Wish I could be there instead of here. But I like the weather here. Not as good as Acapulco though. Man. Id love to go to Acapulco. Stuff like this and that. Why not. Who really wants to know. Who can say. Is there a regional tie. Is there relations to oil. That oil industry. Indus. The Indus region. The hindus. Hinduism. Industry. Indus tree. Man. Wish I couldve learned like that back in the day. Indus tree. Those old Indus. Coming down

with it. Just making noise. All the time. Forever and ever. Just making noise. Getting rowdy. Forever and ever. Amen. smooth as liquor. Thank your God, thank my God. Thank the hindus thank the greeks thank hitler and stalin on the way to heaven. Far out, said the hippy. Yeah I know right? I mean it just gets really fucking complicated with that hitler and stalin shit going to heaven. Isnt that evil to wish them hell? Ha! Comprehend that shit. I will man. Far out, said the hippy. Yeah I know. Pretty trippy. Jenni rippy. Pretty trippy. Shes pretty hot by the way. Yeah I know he said. And it went on like that. Forever and ever. They were waiting for godot. Just like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Man what a bunch of hooey. Life is just messed up. Ya know? I mean life just gets really fucking shitty sometimes. And theres no real way out of it. Ya just gotta suffer until it gets worse and worse and worse. Its just horrible. Man. Im tired of watching tv. Gotta do something else. Gotta make it big one day. Some day. Today aint the day. Aint got enough talent. Hard work is hard when it comes to writing. Must have a lot of creativity. For some reason. Stuff like that. Ya know? Who knows. Im kidding. Right? Forever and ever amen. forever and ever. Like no other. All the time. Man. If only things were better. If only life were the best. If only I could just. If only things were a bit more on the other side of the realm. If only things would just open up for me. If only if only if only. I like the if onlies. Maybe though. God I cant focus. I hate this life. Life is so cruel. Bad times all the time. every time. All the time. Forever and ever ahmen. Ahmad. Rashad. Man. If only I could live right. If only something were something like another. Damn. Writing is difficult. Ive never been this stumped for stuff to write. It will be better. It has to get better. And now Im lying in desperation. Sometimes those truths get ripped in half. For some reason. Man I feel bad. I feel so bad. So violated. So horrible. Had a rectal exam. Prostate exam too. Just drop em and let her in there. What a horrible experience. Bad time horrible. Man though. Life couldnt get much worse. Ive had better. Thats for sure. A lot better. A lot of times better. For some reason. Amen. one and done. And now Im done. No more writing. I retire. I quit. No more writing. This is it. Im done. Im serious. No more. Finito. Finished. Over. Cero. What is there. I mean no really what is there. Heads full of hair. Forever nair. Up in the air. Over there. Over where. Forever there. Never there. Forever my man. Never my dude. Like nothing hoss kitty. All the time maine. Liike nothing Ive ever imagined. Like nothing ever created. Like nothing that ever happens. Like something that couldve went all right. Like nothing though. Like nothing ever. Like this is hell. Bad times equal sad rhymes. Whatever it is that really sucks just say the word and Ill be there. For some reason. All the time. The scars. The scarecrow. Help me please jesus. Grant me strength. Grant me mercy. Grant me the eternal salvation. Grant me. Nah. Dont grant me. Grant was the enemy. Lee was the hero. So on and so forth. Man. My understanding of the world is doomed. Downtrodden. Just exponentially unimportant. Everything bad that couldve happened has happened. Its the worst. Damn. How could I have let life slip away like this. How could we have fucked up so much. How could this have happened. How the hell. What in the world. Whats the use. Whats the abuse. Is there abuse. I like abuse. Face the abusive. Face the abused. Stuff like that. Like this. Man I wonder what happened. I laid in bed at night and then I woke up and it was morning. Must be something called sleep. Heard about it. Not a big fan. Not enough activity. Not enough cerebral responses. Stuff like that. Damned old cerebellum. Forever and ever amen. I mean seriously. What the hell. Whats good my brother. Whats good my man. Is there anything worth anything these days. Probably not. Well there is. Kentuckys in the final four. Big time. All the time. In Houston baby. Big business. All the time. Forever and ever amen. all the time. Smooth slick offense. Thats the key right chur. Man. I hate to type. Theres nothing to type. Nothing to do. Feel like a mosquito. Colorblind. Sad song. Counting crows. Cruel intentions. Bad little movie. All the time god is good and god is good all the time. Why is this. I have no clue. Sounds like theyre hiding something. How to uncover the hidden messages. Hmm. Or just hidden intentions. Something like that. I mean why cant man have it his way. Why is our will always subverted. How the hell can anyone operated without a strong will. A young man needs a strong will. All the time. And all the time the young man needs a strong will. But what to do

what to do. Is there anything to do. Is there anything to give. Can I get anything. Is there anything at all. Can I go at it with Debbie bradshaw. Are these possibilities in my lifetime. Probably not. Why isnt my life as good as I thought it could have been. What is there. What isnt there. Why couldnt I get anything my way. What is the way. What the hell. What can I do. What cant I do. What is there to do. Who knows. Is there anything left in the world. Anything at all. I mean I know education produces bravery but damn. Skydiving. Things get real sometimes. Sometimes. Education is tough though. I mean you have to be brass tacks to be educated. Nobody said it would be easy. I mean I hate it but I need it. Somehow. Ill get it all in one day. Someday Ill figure out a way. Ill need money and lots of it but then again what the hell is going to happen to me. No idea. What can I get away with. No idea. Man. If only I could dream. If only I could attain my wishes. Fulfill my pleasures. If only I could get what I wanted. If only things were different. If only I could make things happen. If only things would happen. If only I could just write up a storm one day. If only the best in the world were possible and nothing else. If only I couldve fucked Debbie bradshaw. If only I couldve went back to mexico. If only I couldve went back to Europe. If only I could go to Africa and asia. If only I could go to south america. That was a long paragraph. Im not down for many more long paragraphs. Man. I feel so depressed. I feel so rotten. I feel downright awful. Just plain silly. I feel so nitty-gritty. So bad. So unable to respond. So impaired. I feel so evil. So unlucky. So depressed. I feel the worst Ive ever felt in the world. Ive never felt any worse than what Ive felt today. Suicide? Maybe. Suicicde is the worst. Ishtar. Isis. Osiris. Horus. Seth. Seti. Things like this and that. What is there though. What can I attain. What is there for me to keep. Will I ever die. Will I ever live. Whats the place in between. Is there a good a bad and an evil. Can I get anywhere these days. Is there anywhere to go to. Is there anything to have. Anything to expunge. Is there anything at all. I feel so hopeless. Just plain empty. Drowned out. Suppressed. Oppressed. Things of that nature. Damn what a life. Get to feel it all right? Yeah right. I hate the negative feelings. I want them to go away. I want the good feelings back. The good times. Those and none other. For some reason. Im not sure why I want the good feelings back. They must be of value. Of worth. I must be stripped clean of them right. Those are too good to be true. Things of that nature. Bad song by bad artist. Into the dark. Death cab for cutie. Never understood the artists name. weird little creepy poetic name. man. So out. Just out of words. Nothing to say. Nothing to be. Nothing at all. Nothing nothing nothing. Somehow not amused. Somehow not feeling good. Must shun the good feelings. For some reason life is just a trifling business. It is worth living. But there must be time effort and energy spent in order to focus on improving it. There must be a way of improving my circumstances. All the time there must be a way to improve the way things are. There must always be a way. A will a way. Where theres a will theres a way. Not. Man. Shit. Damn. Curses. Forever. Ever. Amen. clint. Black. Travis tritt. Randy travis. Country music sensations. People. Like. That. All. The. Time. More red than the devil is. My eyes is. Damn kanyeevil. Must be a generational thing. Norm McDonald with chubby cheeks. Big time. Man I feel bad. Rotten. Sour. Just horrible. Need to exercise. Need water. Need to be just grateful. All the time. For some reason. I feel strong today. For some reason. Not sure why. Any miracles of god being performed? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe things are just fine. Maybe not. Who knows. Can anyone really get a boner like this. A boner. They called me boner jam souse in iowa. It was an anagram of my name. boner jam souse. What a name. boner. A bonehead is what they meant. I guess. Im not sure. No es bueno. No bueno. Good as in good. Stay good for me. What if we were meant to die. And thats it. Must write some more. Writing is the best. I love it so. Actually love is stronger than hate. Love is really strong. Glad someone figured that shit out early on. Man. Remember a time in Danville when I was trying to run at night but the cops asked what I was doing and said that the park was closed. I ran a little bit and went home. Somewhere thats like 30 miles away from home. Bad times. All the time. Cant get over how bad the times were. Remember Perryville. Remember it all. Just little places and things that keep the memory jogged. Well-refreshed. Stuff like that. Course what is there to know. Nobody know. Not no way no how. Nothing stranger. Nothing. Not anything. Man I feel so guilty for something. I just feel like a big bag of marbles. All the time. Nothing is wrong with it. Nothing at all. Whatever the hell is wrong is

something Ill never understand. But whatever. People get violent. I dont like it. Never did. Life gets shitty. All the time. All the time. Time is always. Also. Wonder where also came from. Forever young. What a song. Im gonna be forever young. Stuff like this and that. What a song. Gotta love some shit in life. Just happens in a plain old sad way. All the time. For some reason. Treason is the reason. All the time. All up in it. Let em see ya spin it. Whatever else there is Ill never understand. Life is always bad. Life is always good. Some things are best left untouched. Virgins for example. But ya gotta touch em sooner or later. All the time. Forever and ever amen. songs of the century. Oughta make an album called songs of the century. All the time. Just stuff that really doesnt even matter. Just weird stuff. Man I hate how I write. I need to write better. More prolifically. More profoundly. All the time. Forever and ever. Things like that. For some reason. Typing is my nemesis. If only I could get used to it. If only I could end it. Typing and writing. What a world. What a way. What a day. Nothing going on. No more schedules. Schedules were the worst anyway. Never liked a schedule. Just kind of rushed me. All the time god is good and god is good all the time. Got it backwards but it still works the same. For some reason. Whatever else there is Ill never understand. Man I feel so damned. I damn you to hell. All the time. Forever and ever. Hell aint a good place. Taint for nobody. Stuff like that. Memory just helps out here and there. Not all the time. Writing is the devil itself. I hate writing. I hate it all. I love writing. I love it all. See how contradictory it gets. Big time. Bad time. All the time. Forever. Isnt such a long time after all forever, is it? Forever is a long long time though. I hate forever. Forever always feels like goodbye. Goodbyes are sometimes forever. Always always is never forever. Just a temporary forever. Something like that. What the hell. What am I supposed to do. Eat a shoe? Go get screwed? Is it all worth anything at all. Ever. Is there ever any worth available to us. I see no worth in anything that Ive done. Magic does not exist. Money just does not grow anywhere around here. Money is the meanest object a man can withhold from another man. Stuff like this. Just like this. All the time as a matter of fact. Damn Im exhausted. Sleep is sweet to he who works. Those who love sleep will be impoverished. Those who love pleasure will be poor. Revere your mother and dont spend all the years of your life reviling your father and you will have children. I dont see how but there ya go. All the time. Without a doubt. However it can happen. Withhold. I like that word. Worlds apart. I like that phrase. Nothing else to write. Never a morsel of spinach. Neer do well. Taint it. Its all good. Sall good. Stuff like this and that. Why this or that. Is there anything to have done to anything. Im a writer not a damn genius. Writing is my craft. But what makes it a craft. How do I master this craft. Is it even worth mastering. Probably not. What the hell is on my tv. I have no idear. What is an idear. Ill never have a clue. I just wanna eat shoe. Man. Need something to do. Need someone to do. Need a new shoe. A new screw. Need a way out. Need something to do. Ooh ooh ooh. Stuff like that. But serially. What the hell is going on with my life. In my life. What the hell is up. What shall I do. What shall I become. Whatever is up with this. Whatever ever happened. Ill never understand. Why is it worth anything. Is it even worth nothing? Less than nothing? I would have to pay people to read this stuff? Probably so. I live in such a bad area of the u.s. that theres just no hope of getting this damn book off of the ground. What the hell. Seriously though. Things arae just so darn difficult. Theres just no options. No opportunities. Nothing. It all just dwindles down to a big bunch of nothingness. Margarine. What a word. Man. So tired. So bored. Not even worth it. Do I even get it yet. I mean writing is like thinking. And thinking is hard. At least, writing thoughts down is hard. I guess. I mean. what the hell. Theres just nothing to think about or worry about or anything. It might not be the end of the world but damn. Its pretty bad. Theres just no morale. All time lows. Nothing to do. Nothing at all. Theres just nothing out there for me. Nothing at all. You have to be something that you dont want to be to be anything at all around here. I just dont agree with it. Theres just a lot around here that I disagree with. Big time. Man. What is there. What can anyone do in this damn situation. I mean I live at home with mom and dad. Things are not going to get better. I thought they would get better after school but I meanI miss school. It was the best thing ever. Tests werent so great but I mean, the love. You could just feel the love. And the learning. A healthy love of learning. Man. What a long way Ive come in a short time. Life just goes by so slow these days. Ill never get anywhere at this pace. It went so fast as a youngster. I think. Probably not. Nothing. Just nothing. Plain old nothing. To talk about. I cant make sense of it. Nothing worth anything. What the hell is anything about anymore. What can there be. What is there to not be. To be or Im sure

you know the rest. Not to be. I choose not to be. Suicide all the way. Jesus. Even Shakespeare contemplated such an existence. At least he had characters. I just have gibberish written down for no apparent reason. Jesus christ. Ill never love anyone ever again. Or anything. None of it shall be missed. None of it shall go away. Its all just a bunch of hooey. Big time. All the time. I mean what the hell. Is there anything worth doing. Anything going on. Nada. nunca. Nada. nothing. Serious bullshit. Thats what it is. Its all just serious bullshit. I mean what the fuck. Fuck all this shit. I hate it all. Go to hell. Rot in there while youre at it. I miss that time in the hospital when they gave me morphine. That shit was good. Loving on that morphine. Big time. I got high as a kite. Higher than a mother fucker. Missed it real bad. Some bitch gave me a bath in there. Washed me up real good. Thanked her kindly. Cant believe she actually did it. What it is yo. Just typing for the heck of it again. Tiresome I know but I have to keep this up if I want to reach 10,000 hours. And 10,000 hours aint no small feat either. Ten thousand hours takes tenacity. Takes a lot out of ya. Just takes a lot. Period. Peoria. I remember at time when I had firmly decided not to finish up college. That I was going to drop out and become a writer. And thats exactly what Ive done. Ive dropped out and now Im a writer. Nothing else in the world matters but writing. Theres just me the computer and the will to write. Writing. Such drama. Tell your babys momma. Your babys momma momma. Save the drama. Keep the drama for your mama. Damn. Thats alll ive got aint worth nothing wmore than this. Ive got nothing else. Mistakes will be made agreed. Is that okay. Iis it okay for me to pee in a cup. Is anything okay anymore. Probably not. Whatever else there is Ill never know. Man. Im just pitiful. Ive just got to know everything about everybody. I just wanna know everything. I need to master a craft. Like writing. Writing is worth the work. For some reason or another. Im not too sure. Writing is all right by my means. It has to be okay. It has to work out. Its just the way it is. Big time. All the time. Any day of the week. Every day of the week. Theres just no denying the awesomeness of writing. Writing words is the best idea ever. Why is this. Because it is. It just works out that way. That way and no other way. Man. Too tired. Slept for about 12 hours. Thats the only way. Gotta sleep a lot. Gotta hump the shit out of that bed. For a long time. Crystal clear calamities always strike sorrow into my brain stem. Crystal clear. Yes. Krystal is a queer. Ducks are queers according to ryan mudd. What a fuddy dudd. Indifferent to that person. Wish I could go back to college and conquer. Just not enough strength. Just not enough youth. Youth has faded. I am adult. Creeps the hell out of me. Creepy time. Man if only I could fly around in a spaceship. All the time. And go to wendys. grab me a cheeseburger. Or McDonalds and grab me some chicken nuggets. Man. How I miss my old way of life. How I just wanted stability. How I just wanted anything in the world. How I couldve been something better than what I am already. How I couldve proved it differently. How things couldve been different. Somehow. Someway or another. Whimsical wonder plagues me like the piano. If only I could play the piano. I would master it. For a fourth time. It takes time for things. For anything to be good. To get good at anything. I only picked writing because I had a teacher that really wanted us to write really well. Which I found amusing but hey, it worked. This is my life calling. This is the thing that Ive chosen as my profession (once I get professional at it). Until then its these long paragraphs and rants that go on and on until we cant discover that the moon was really our depraved neighbor. What a depraved neighbor. At least it didnt host human suffering. Theres a lot of that on earth. How I hate human suffering. At least its not human sacrifice. They used to do that in India. To Vishnu. Probably to another one, too. Man I hate how commas have to affect some sentences the way that they do. Dramamine by modest mouse. Thats a good song. The dog days are over by Florence and the machine. Another good song. Still. What the hell am I doing. What the hell is going on. Was I meant to be a writer or what. I think so. Otherwise I just wouldnt be writing like this. All the time like this. For some big reason. Or another. Still. Theres got to be something deeper. Something more than what I know. I just cant pay for knowledge. Its so expensive. And complicated. And difficult. I just dont understand how it is all supposed to work out. I just dont understand. Its just so real these days. Like my friends are not my friends anymore. I just have my mom and dad. And my brother sometimes. And the georges. And coury leathers. And even thats a little on the iffy side. But still. To know someone. To care about somebody. Thats where its at. Theres the gold. But enough about me. What about you. Mail your life story to me at 3650 St. Mary Rd. Lebanon, KY 40033. Ill read it and I may just mail something back to you. We could become pen pals. Wouldnt that be grand? Still. Since Im the only person I really know the story must continue as me being the main character who is cooped up in his bedroom like Murphy in becketts novel or like proust when he was writing his novel. See? I learned something in college. If only I could learn more. If only I could attain that

thirst for knowledge. If only I could move without remorse. Again. Just once more. Just complete another semester. Just invest your time again. Get to know people you can do it. Its just college. Its not a monster or anything. Its not the end of your world. Its the beginning. It has to happen. Youre going to be a college student. Once more. Yes. Again. You. For petes sake. Public speaking scared the pants off of me last time. Dont know why but it just did. I just wasnt prepared enough. We had only a week to get things ready. Things were just running rampant. Difficulties abounded. Wasnt secure enough. Insecurity won out. Had to come back. Just wasnt sure I was headed in the right direction. Its just so difficult. Knowing my place in life. I like to write but I also like to learn but it costs money and if I dont get it from fafsa then Im really fucked. Just wild things like that. Thats where the wild things are. Jeez. Climbing in trees and such. Not really a good idea. But hey I just write like it meant something to me. Isnt that something? I mean I write and I write and I write and a lot of times it means nothing. But that time it actually had some substance. Good for me. I knew Id get a little bit better eventually. Just gotta put the time into it. Time after time. Slow hands by Interpol. These are all songs that ought to be in the movie of this book. That means if youre a movie dude then you should definitely consider making a book out of this manuscript. I would greatly appreciate it. Even if I am dead. Make it into a movie. And dont be so drab with it. Dingbat. I know its a bad book but I just need a little bit of help. Somehow. Someway. For some reason. All the time ya know. For ever and ever. Amen. again and again until we get it right the third time. Or the second time. Anytimes good ya know. This song isnt really that good of a song. I dont know what I was thinking with that rant. Please sue the pants off of me so that I know how bad I messed up. Please. Just do it. Please. No matter what. I think today is publishing day. Might as well be. Writing for the heck of it. Just writing. Peacefully writing. Over and over again. Till I get it right this time. Somehow. Someway. Read a book in my dream last night. Almost stepped on a piece of glass in my dream last night. Fucked a bitch in the pussy last night. Still dreaming. It was awesome though. Couldnt believe it. Woke up wanting to go back in but to no avail. Used to be confused about dreams when I was a young boy. They used to feel so real. Now I know the difference. I actually live more for the dream than the reality. Reality blows. Takes dreams to spice it up a bit. For some reason. Thats about all Ive got. Im only worth so many words. Remember a time when we went to a lake, drank beer and played with knives. Bad ass time. It was spring and things were just starting to feel just right. Stuff like that. Writing is a plague. Cannot stop doing it. Again, this is only the beginning. My writing will prevail over the course of a millennium. Yeah right. Writing is worse than that. People treat you like shit. Hatefully. Stuff like that. Bad ass song on. Dog Days are Over. Florence + the Machine. Never heard of it. Still a good song. Hardcore to the fullest. For some reason. Not sure why. Unsure of the whole existence of everything. But still. Just doing what I think is best. Stuff like that. Kentucky made it to the final four. Excited. Great chance for a championship. Cannot believe it. Uconn is up. Theyre pretty good. Thats all Ive got on that subject. Man I miss my old life. So peaceful. So full of opportunity. How I loathe this one. Barely allows me to get out of bed in the afternoon. Stuff like that. Still, writing is a job. I hate it. If only I could get better then I will finally be able to publish with confidence. Have to build confidence in writing. Have to have patience. Like thirty years worth. E-gad. Thats longer than Ive learned to live for. Id be fifty then. See, still plenty of time left. For some reason. Writing is difficult. I hate writing. Have to understand how to write. How to process the writing style. The way of the writer. Must understand the way of the writer. Again and again. Until its perfect. Whatever way it is Ill be forever unsure. Just logging now. Just wanting escape from this writerly mansion. Stuff like that. Gets me into trouble. Writing does. Characters. How to write character. Bob was an eagle who flew above Marion County and oversaw its activities from the lowest mouse to the highest hawk. From the peasant all the way to the king. Marion county was a feudal society that had broken away from the government, yet was still part of the United States of America. However united they really were no one will fully understand. Each state felt like a separate country in its own right. Welcome to Europe number two. Kentucky, the early frontier. Jesus Christ. Cant wait till they Latinize and Africanize this damn place. But worse, Islamize. The unknown. Moons and stars everywhere. Sheiks and genies. Shiites and sunnis. Just people of all types. Im scared of em. They might kill me. Maybe I can hook up with a muslim woman and she be my wife. Our child would have the toughest upbringing. Christian father muslim mother. Jesus Muhammad. Or Muhammad christ. I dont know. Things would be complicated without question. Id never be able to though. I just want a good

catholic girl. But I also want to become fit. Somehow. Not sure how. Takes money to be fit. To survive. To live. To be. To just be as I am. To just take it like man. Things of that nature. Man. Damn. Bad times are coming. Had some good ones and now the bad ones are up and running. Time you filthy creature. What a nemesis you are to man. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. That has to be Shalom! Shalom! Right? Some book like that. It cant be Finnegans wake. That starts off Call me Ishmael. hence the word Islam. What a bastardization of a mans name. what a family story the local Lebanese have. American Christians. Nay, they are not muslims. Sad to say. Sorry to say. Heartfully sorry. Big time. Stuff like that. Man. Shit blood today. Probably need to see a doctor. Not sure who. Not sure how. These things usually have to go through my mother. She handle the money. Stuff like that. Back to my story. In marion county, things were going well. Not really. People needed jobs, money and the like. Stuff like that. But they werent getting it. Poverty was the next best thing. And thats why Im a writer. Nobody can take that away from ye. Its always there and its not going away anywhere. Not today, not tomorrow, not never. But god its dreadful. So boring it is. Hard to pour about 10,000 hours into such a craft. Its about as dreadful as it gets. Cant get no worse. Really horrible. Really bad. Stuff like that. Whos to say. Who really knows though. I have no clue. Ill never really know. Itll never be good enough. My story. Well I dont have a story. I like to look at words and guess how they came about. Thats about all you need to know about me. Other than that Im doing just fine. Things of that nature. But still, there must be a story that needs to be told. Well all right. One day, me and a bunch of friends went skydiving. Best experience of my life. Complete weightlessness. Never will you feel like that anywhere else. Luckily the parachute worked and luckily they helped me through the whole damn thing. Said everything went good except my feet were kicking the whole time. Uncontrollably even. Scared the hell out of me. Course this was on the ground. Out right ya know. But this was all there was to it. Took some training but we finally got the gist of it. Damn skippy. Stuff like that. But thats just one story. I remember a time when I was taking a shit, reading a paper and saw a fellow rival writer make it into the best column in town. Jealousy was me. I wanted to be in that column. But who cares. Who knows. How could this have happened? Ill never know. Ill never figure it out. How the hell could this have happened. I mean. I didnt do it. Man my train of thought is just way off. But Im okay with it. Too much going on to keep the reader interested anyway. Not no way no how. But there must be a way somehow. When you werent writing. You werent a writer. Bukowski. Man, I just need to write and write and write. Mainly about things I see on tv like this new iphone from apple. I need to write better like without fewer interruptions and get to know the keyboard a little bit. Know about writing. Like the defenders. Belushi and akroyd. Lawyer and judge. Writing is hard. I wrote a whole book once. Took a long time. Its a record of time. They say writers need to read but I need to write. Almost wrote knead. Like knead the bread. God I hate hearing from people in that whole stan area. Iran Pakistan, Uzbekistan, Chechnya, Iraq, Afghanistan, whatever. Just get it right. So we dont see each other everyday. Big deal. Get used to these people. And the funny thing is, these people fight for their countries and the amount of resources each region of the world will get. Whoever has the power, gets the money. Whoever gets the money, gets to live. If no fear of death, the people are free. But these protests were almost prophesied through fear of protests. This guy on tv is really high thinking. Really persuasive. But hes supposedly a detective. Well, winters cloak is off and spring has begun. Beautiful weather today. Got some sun. played some ball. Et cetera. Twitter is the new thing. face book is out. After typing face book so many times you get tired of both the word face and book. Man. Damn. Down again. Doing nothing. Nothing going nothing doing. Nothing going on. Hows that for an answer. How are thee. How is thou. Art thou all right? Can I say it any straighter? Is there anything to have? Can there be an answer. Could there be anything worth having. Can it really matter anymore. Could it really happen. Is there any happiness anymore. Probably so. Who knows. Is there anything worth

anything anymore. Can I get busy for once. Is there anything out there worth having. Didnt I already ask this question? Could there be more questions to ask. Is there anything else to ask. Am I forever more a superstar? Probably not. Is there anything worth a dilly right now. Probably not. But theres got to be something. Pickles and the like. A pickle is worth a nickel. Nickel. Is spelled different than pickle. Big time. All the time. Theres just nothing to do. Never anything to do. Not anything. Just a bunch of hooey out there right now. Why would I hire you. Why wouldnt I hire you. Is there anyone out there for me? Is there anyone out there for hire.? Could it be? Can it be? Marcus camby? Who the hell is that. I dont know. Recruiting class. Basketball. What the hell is going on here. Big time basketball stats. And the like. Seth davis. Charles barkley. People like that. Greg Anthony. Clark Kellogg. Greg gumble. Billy packer. People like this. Man theres just nothing to have. Nothing to want. Nothing to buy. Nothing at all. What happened to it all. Wasnt it all supposed to be something amazing? Isnt it all just amazing anyway? Probably not. Damn I feel so conflated. Shew wee. Big time yeezy. Young jeezy. Kanye west. That was amazing. They were amazing. Stuff like that. All the time. All up in it. Let em see you spin it. Theres just got to be something more interesting to talk about. I should have a talk show. Thats the key. Thats the deal. Yeah right. Pish posh. Mish mosh. Lovely dovely all the time. Man I feel jewish. Like really badly mad. Just something that Ill never understand. Something is really wrong here. Big time. What the hell is going on. Between the sheets and my home. Baby wait let me explain. So on and so forth. Man. I feel so downtrodden. The attitudes of some of those kids were the worst. Ill never understand people all the way. Through and through. Big time bad people. All the time. Man. If only life were a little better. A little different. If only something something. I just want more fun. More pleasure. But no. life is not the way we please. Its not the way we ease. Its not something we manifest. It is totally random and unobstructed. Theres no blueprint for life. No sir not no way no how. A job. I have no job. What job have I? nary a job in the whole place. Wish I had job. Jobs for me? Maybe so. Maybe not? Maybe no. ate some tasty fish. Grilled catfish. Yum yum. Damn. Cant do justice. Cant serve justice. Cant feel right. Cant do right. Cant get it right. Its all just a matter of fucking coincidence. The job market. Wheres my share. Whats my schpiel. What is there for me? Answer me life! Answer me! Aaagh! Egad man. Theres nothing to live for after all! Aaaagh! Aargh! Grunt. At least Im not disgruntled. Big time. Typing causes tiredness. Big time. All the time. Man what a waste. What a day. What would I have said. What would anyone have done. Is this the way that it is. Can it get any better. Will it ever get better. Nope. This is just as good as it gets. No better. Better is a dream. Its a fantasy that youre not worthy of. Big time. All the time. Everyday. Just like that. Jesus christ. I hate my life!!!! Man. How I feel so obtuse. Wish my life were better. Wish I could make it better. Someway somehow. Wish things could wind up getting better. Someway somehow. If only. I know how this ends. I eat a cat and my dog, buddy, eats his poop. Just like that. One fell swoop. Disturbing right? Yes I know. But thats just the way it is. Whatever else there is, I dont think it really matters. Theyre but little matters. What a day. A lackaday. What is a lackaday. Who knows. Probably something for the greater good. Jesus christos. Who am I to know anything. To say anything. To be anything. To be worth a damn. Who knows. A damn is worth a lot these days. Takes a lot to build up to it. Something like that. Im pretty lazy with my writing. Wish I could be fornicating. No sir bob. No fornication on this side of the Mississippi. Big time. No sir. Bobs your uncle. What a deal breaker that place was. What a bad place it was. What a bad time I really had. I mean I always have a bad time but being home is like the last resort. Its just like that for some reason. I dont get it. I just dont understand life very well. Its ever-so complicated. All the time. And all the time god is good. They wont capitalize god unless you want them to. Craziness. But what else is new. I like that better. What else is new. Is there anything new? Probably not. Novelty. Gotta love the newness. Man. I want to go back to uk but then again I want to stay home and do nothing for the rest of my life. Just like that. But then again, who the hell would you be if you just stayed home and did nothing for the rest of your doggone life. Youd be nobody. You have better chances if you go to school and stick with it. Dont just quit when things get difficult. Bear down. Get with it. Take this shit like a man. Man. You are a man arent you? Then act like one. Get your shit together, son! Thats a fucking order. You must complete this mission. You must be who you are. You must get this shit done. Its your mission in life. If you dont complete this task then you will be considered a failure. Failures arent that good. You have to get that college degree. Thats just the way it is. You have to put in the semesters. You have to be tireless. You have to be able to spend that much time away from home. You have to be stable for as long as you possibly can. You cannot just wimper back and act like a weakling. You have to help yourself or no one will help you. Understood? You have to complete your education. Its that simple. You have to do super. You have to do

well. It all has to be perfect. You have to be able to complete these tasks. How do you do it though? How is it possible? How to accomplish this damn task in life. Its a very simple task. Its not that complicated. Just do the things they want you to do and get on with it. Over and over again. Till you get it motherfucking right. You have to do it this time. You have to get it just right. You have to be able to do these things. This is your life. Make it a good one. Become educated. Be the best. Be one of the greatest. You see now how the education will help your writing. You have to become this writer but a degree is definitely something good to fall back on. Falling back on a degree would be a plus. Just keep trudging on. You have to do this. You have to complete these tasks. Its not that easy but nothing good in life is ever easy. All good things are hard to come by. All good things. Its just a matter of how and why and when and where. Stuff like this and that. But seriously. What else is there. How can I get it right this time. Is there a way to straighten it all out. Probably not. What else is there to do. To become. What can I be. What can I know. What is there. What what what. I feel so alone. I feel so deprived. I feel so privileged. Ill never get it right. I need more. Always needing more. How am I supposed to write like this. I have no clue what my life is unfolding towards. I just wish I knew what I were doing. This is nonsense. I cant type worth doody today. Too much to talk about. Too many good thoughts. Writing is a form of pessimism I developed as a child. Would rather have been an astronaut. Sure they got plenty of those walking around Houston. Instead, I am writer. Writers are good for what? Nothing. Exactly. Thats why I am one. Im not really good for too much. But shew wee. Im writing again. Just like I intended. Never saw it coming Ill say. Just got up one day to become a writer and so it went. Man. I love writing. Theres just nothing like it. The feeling of putting words on that damn page. Theres always something to write about. I mean it. Always. Every time. All the time. All day and she love me.. But thats enough about me. Writing is sin, right? Zenyatta? Stuff like that. But how am I supposed to know what to write? Isnt there something more for me to accomplish. I want the bachelors degree. I can taste it. I just cant handle it. I just dont know how to make it to class and make it on my own. I just dont have the necessary skills. Everything went kaput. Living at home is the best remedy I can come up with. And it works. Course, Im at home with mom and dad. No big fun there. But what else is there to do. Not much. Not much at all. Really though. What is there. What can I accomplish. Is there anything for me. Can I get er done. Or get it done rather. Is it even worth attaining? I dont know. Do you? Please, tell me. Still, whats it all worth anyway. Im not even sure about this concept. Im not even sure about the way I feel about anything anymore. Its all just a bunch of random claptrap. I guess, anyway. I mean I really like to be honest with myself (yeah right). But still, what can we conclude from all this? Is the evidence conclusive? Do I really want to go back to college? Yes. If I receive enough financial aid. If not, then theres no point in going. Ive tried really hard and I think that if I put in my best effort then I will succeed. But I also think that my best effort was used up a long time ago and to put in another best effort would undermine the previous best effort. So I dont know what to think. Its all so random anymore. Man. This life has been wonderful. Im on some medication that makes me wake up earlier. I love it. Im glad I wake up earlier. Makes me feel on top of the world. Hated sleeping in like I did. Hated it all to hell. Had nothing to wake up to. Still dont have much to wake up to. Not sure where Im going with this. Scary new heights. Think Ill stop here. Looks safe enough. But no. I have to continue. This is my destiny. A truer nobler cause. Unlike any other. First and foremost. Obli di obla da. Life goes on. But what else is there? Is there candy-striped windows? Are there knickerbockers to be worn? A new york knick. Theyre the biggest city in the world and they choose the knickerbockers as their team. What a world. But Yankees for their other team. How about those apples? Who knows. Ill never come up with the correct solution. Man though. I need to party. Someones going to have one and its going to be hellish. All the time. Everyday and she love me. But really, what is there to do in this life. Isnt there something that I can be proud of. Something that really carries me through the day. Isnt there a way to live without the hatred. Isnt there something that I can control. Something that is worth noting. To be notable. Yeah right. Better to be noble. Better win that nobel prize in literature. If only. I wish. A nobel prize is like a million dollar advance. What a prize. I mean how

the hell ya know? How does one come to terms with anything anymore? I have no clue. How does it all get resolved? Will I ever find the answers to my questions? I know Kentucky lost to Connecticut but thats not my drama. Im more for why do I want to go back to school when I know Ill fail again. Why is this an important step in my life. Is my life worth it? Am I trying hard enough? Probably. Theres no reason to see how Im not trying hard enough. Still. Theres more to it. Theres just got to be more to it than I realize. Whatever else could there be, batman? Geezuz louises. The peaches make cream nowadays. Bad times a cooking. Peaches and crme. What a disaster. Wonderful. How it all is. Spring has sprung and I am officially wind burnt. Face is warm. Feel like a Native American. An Indian. An injun. How they must feel right now. Saw a north or south Dakota Indian on jeopardy. Said his tribe was over 70% impoverished. What a tribe. Hate to hear that for anybody. Gotta help them out. But how. And why. And where. And when. And who. And what. Who knows. Im impoverished myself. At least, I think so. Trying to type sideways. Man, though. Life is tough. Ive never had a worse life in the history of lives. Ill never know what to say anymore. Had some good thoughts riding on that old tractor but theyre always hard to bring up while writing. Hard to write stream of conciousness 100%. Theres got to be some time between the thought and the typing process. But still, we try. Or I try. Somebody tries. Im one of them. Ha ha. Typing is tough though. Not much to type in the first place. Sun came up. Now its gone. Still have parents. Dont make enough money. Never will. Given up. Job market? Whats a job market? Hate working for someone other than myself. I would like to be president but theres no way Ill ever be elected. Theres just no way. I could never be that public anyway. Miss the women. Miss the girls. Miss sex. Fornication. Im ready to impregnate but who? And why? Im a grown man goldsmith. Silly auto-correct. Like I have the time to correct the auto-correct. Wish I could. Wish I would. Happiness. Still wish I had a better day ahead of me. Nothing more to do or to say. Just a bunch of nothing left for me. Mowed the yard for the total body workout. Pretty tired and sore weekend. Hard not to love hard work. Master craftsman is what Ill be. Crafting the written word. Impossible? I think not. So sleepy. Want to write up a storm but also want to go back to bed for want of rest. One can never get enough rest. Especially when one is at work. Still. Theres just nothing for me to say. Nothing for me to do. Nothing at all. Id eat a shoe if I could. If I would. I probably wouldnt. depends on if eating includes digesting. Or if eating includes simply chewing and swallowing. Who knows. Who cares. Ill never know nor care. And that bothers me none. But gd. Ive really gotta stop typing. My head and arm is tired. Its the connection that is tired. Im not grammatically incorrect on this one. Its called my head and arm is tired. Put the hyphens in there and youll understand. Im too lazy to do it for ya. If only I couldve been from Crittenden. Crittenden is my favorite country place in the world. Ill never forget it. Stuck in there like a wedge in a couple of barrel staves. But Ive really got to go. Head and arm is tired. Now what. Steve martin is trying to sell a music album. I dont want him to. Its horrible. See if you can do something about this. The end. Time to type. Love to type. Type is life. Somehow, someway. Et cetera and so on. Forever and ever amen. whatsoever. Whatever. What could it be. Could it be this. Could it be that? Whatever could it be? What can I be? Am I this? Or am I that? Is that all there is to know? Possibly so. Possibly no. whatever is there for me to do? Can I have a carrot with a shoe. Can I get enough to eat. Can I have a special treat? Is it all right with you? Is there no place to go? Nowhere to call home? Do your parents treat you unkindly? Isnt that no way to go? Who are you? Where you from? Whats yo name? is your name jose? Is it Josephine? Are you man or woman? Who is to say? Who knows? Who wants to know? Question marks are for pussies. No more question marks. This message has been detained by the Chinese government. Only communist rule now. Forever and always. Amen. Nah, just playing with you. Ah. What is there to do today. Today seems like a frightful day with all the wind and the storms coming. Hail and tornadoes. Might as well destroy the God-forsaken house while its at it.

Who knows. If that happens then all of Joe Mattinglys work would be destroyed. But who knows. What is there. Can anyone ever get anything all right? Is it all right anymore? Can I get anything like this available or unavailable. Am I werth a dern anymore? Arent I? whos to say. Man I feel so lousy. I just dont feel like I ought. Like I should. Forever and never. How could I. wish I could. Forever I should. Never. Fornever ever? Man. Nothing to write about. Nothing to type about. Just a bunch of hooey going on. Wind died down. But came back. What a bad day. The worst. Yesterday and the day before were so good. Loved them. Loved them lots. Now the day is not so good. How bout it. How bout yourself. Is everything all right? Is the weather outside frightful? And the fire so delightful? And since theres no place to go? Let it snow let it snow let it snow? Jesus. Typing on my little laptop makes life easier. More fun. Better in some ways worse in others. I need to take my stool samples to the doctors office. How do I do this? Its embarrassing. Too hard to comprehend. How the hell how the hell. Is it even worth my time? I have no clue. I have no clue. Blah blah blah. I feel so warm today. Got burnt and now Im paying for it. Good weather has a price. Big price. Big time. All the time. Forever more amen. poe said never more. I say forever more. What gluttons we have become. Stuff like this. All the time. Forever and always. That will change. Too many terrorist attacks to promise forever to anyone. Feels like a bad omen. Feels just plain awful. All the time. Forever and always. Connecticut plays butler for the championship tonight. Big whoop. Connecticut will win unless butler is too wise. Butler went to the championship last year. Mid majors doing it again. Understandably so. All the good players from the good teams go pro before they turn senior. Big time playaz. Man. I feel so uncomfortable doing this. I am a writer. I dont feel like writing. I feel like makingfeel like makin love. Listened to that yesterday. Hella song. Helluva song. Damn auto-correct. Wish I had some halo so I could go and play that. No go. No can do. Big tymers. Nothing to write about today. Sad day. Clouds are forming. Big storm clouds. Gonna be violent. You can already tell. Jail cells all over the place. For me and for you. Just nothing to say. Nothing to type about. Nothing worth worrying over. Just wish I were back in school learning new material. I think. I hope so. It better work out this time. Ive had to withdraw 3 times. Not a very fun experience. I dont like the stress but its so necessary. For some reason. Not sure why. But damn. Ive been alive. I know the feeling. Ive been up and down and around. Know what it all feels like. Just need another dimension. A new take on life. And I think I know where Im going with this. But maybe I dont. I think the fun resides in not knowing where we are going. Not knowing how to get there. Just trying things out and making sure that they are worth our time. Still, if I withdraw one more time who knows how my parents will take it. I better not. I shouldnt. its against all legal concerns. It just doesnt make sense. It isnt valid. Its just not a good way to go. Its not going to happen. There. Its resolved. I will have to stay in school no matter what. Forever and ever amen. for no particular reason. But what else is there. There must be something else. There must be something worth something. But not no more. Nigga done twist up the fro let a lot to grow. Trick daddy. Big timers. Back in the days, there wasnt no aids, wasnt no aks. More afros than braids. Et cetera and so on. Still. What can I do for money. Life just isnt funny. Not no mo. Niggers done twist up the fro let a lot to grow. So on and so forth. But what else is there. Nothing. Taint no music to my ears. Jesus louises. Moses too. Abraham while ya at it. Just skettin better all the time. Skettin better all the time. Et cetera and so on. Sows on and sows forth. Forever and ever ahmen. Ahmed Johnson. Ahman green. People like that. Farooq. Man. Whatever people say about me, it aint true. I didnt fuck no bitch and I didnt smoke no crack. Ill give em that. What it is yo. Whats up. How can I write in a time like this. I just dont feel like writing. Writing is sin. But sin is in. therefore, writing is in. for some reason. I hate reason. Its so fd up. Its not even worth noting. Reason. Psh. What the fuck. Is it even worth anything? Probably not. Damn though. My life is in shambles once again. Nothing going. Nothing doing. Just a whole lot of wish I could get better at whatever it is that makes life good sometimes. Because Id want that all the time if I had it my way. But I dont. I dont even get paid. I just do things here and there and thats about it. Just a bunch of hooey. Big time. All

the time. They expect us to understand. Big time. All the time. Guys do it all the time. Whatever we do. We must do something really well. For some reason. Who knows. I mean I really never know anything. Knowledge is whack. I hate knowledge. Now if only I could do some good with my life. If only I knew the secret ingredient to everything today. If only I could help others out. If only my life were worth a damn. If only I could compose a masterpiece. I mean seriously, I have to get good at writing. This is my craft. This is what I do. All the time. Right here, right now. But Im so tired. Too tired to type. Still. Needs something of substance. Something worth noting. Something that can withstand the test of time. Something like that. Yes. I dont know though. Im pretty tired. My eyes just want to shut and go sleep. I want to so bad. Its not even funny how bad I want to sleep. Sleeping is fun. I guess. I dont know. Its weird. Never fear. Jimmy osbourne is here. Hooray! Never they fear. Whatever they fear it must be something big. But it could be something small. I dont know. I just know I need some assistance. Big time. Man. Just feel terrible. Big time. Will go to sleep. Right now. No matter what. For no particular reason. A humdinger. Wildcats. The end. The beginning The middle. Too tired. Please help me devote both time to writing and time to sleep. Please help me. What is there really? What can I do? Nothing. Nada. squat. Squat is what you can do. Simply this and nothing more. A word. Two words. Three words. Four sentences. A paragraph? These things are complicated. A paragraph takes time. A word and a sentence do not. A page takes time. A paragraph is an annoyance. Uconn beat butler in the championship. Big whoop. What a tourney. Nobody could fend off uconn. What a shame. I think its unfair. Everybody doesnt get to play everybody. Its all about being placed in an easy bracket. I guess. I dont know. Uk had a tough one in ohio state and north carolina. Big whoop. Shooting is so crucial in the game of basketball. If you cannot make that ball go through that hoop then you are just god awful. Im serious. Things just go to hell after that. Man. I feel so damn depressed. Cant get anything done. Damn. Life is so unfair. Never will it ever be the same. I hate my soul. I hate my life. I wish it would end. Just bury me in the ground. Forever more. Welp, thats about it. Im pooped. Time for sleep. Time for less calamity. Amen. Writing is fun. I love writing. So lets go. What is there to write about. Nothing diddly. Squat. Nothing diddly. Jackrabbits. Flying hamsters. Hamburg germany. Et cetera and so on. How does any of this shit move on. How can we take the long way home? I want the long way home. Man. Diddled my skittle. What the hell is diddling a skittle? Who knows. Sounds too evil. Man Im tired. Just got done working out. Who the hell knows anything about anyone else but me? I dont care about anyone or anything but me. Damn yo. Life is so simple. Just do some work and get paid. Big time bonus points. Who the hell knows what to do with all this life hanging around anyway. Life is so hard to get over. Its so difficult to understand. I never liked life. Its just not that fun. Never is, never was. Just big boss time. Man. Big boss man. Man I wish I had stayed in school. Man. Wishes dont add up to much except sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows, everything thats great thats what I feel because now, were together. Et cetera and so on. Etc. etc. so tired. Wish I would just die. Dying has to be something of a god send. A release from reality. Please god release me from reality. Virtue is a reality. Maybe. What else is there. What can I do. What can anyone do for anyone? Is there any free time left? Can I get a massage? Am I related to julian assange. Probably not. Doodle

busters. Man. I dream of a place with lollipops and rainbows all day long. But killer bees and poisonous mushrooms at night. Crazy little place. All the people are sane. Normal. Medicated. Psychiatrists rule this area of the world. Paid millions for their advances in normalcy. And then theres alligators eating crocodiles and crocodiles eating alligators. And chocolate beehives where the killer bees sleep during the day. People try to steal the chocolate from them at night while on the poisonous mushrooms that arent really poisonous but have hallucinating effects. Write what you dont know about. Im trying. But to no avail. Superman lived in the land of the sane and normal. He was only valued as a freak. Big time. All the time and she love me. Back in the dayz. Good old songs. Lovin life these days. I like 90s rap. They really speak to me. New rap just kind of goes oh na na whats my name? or it tires to hard. Doesnt get to the point. Just kinda flows and thats about it. Doesnt tell a ballad like it used to. Shew need inspiration. I believe in me. Dammit. I believe in me. Say it with me now. I believe in me. Man. Too tired. Too fucked up on something. Natural effects of something. Need more of it. Big time. Gushing pleasure. From somewhere. Not sure where. Writing thats my specialty. For some reason Im a damn writer. That and nothing else. Writing. A writer. For some fucking reason. Why the hell would I write. Who the hell wants to be a writer. Why wouldnt I want to be a writer. Writing is fun. And it should be treated this way. Over and over again. Until it just doesnt stop. Until there is no end in sight. Stuff like this. Stuff like that. Whatever the hell there is. Ill never know. What is there with my life. What can I do. What can I ever accomplish. Who knows. Will I ever know. Will life ever be as good as it sounds. Is there anything left for anyone. Who knows. Knowledge. Hatred of said knowledge. The reason for all this complaining. Ignorance. Hatred of said ignorance. What the hell is good for anybody these days. Who the hell is good for anything these days? What the hell is the point. What the hell is wrong with anyone. I hate my father. I hate my mother. I must live with these two for there is no where else to go. I hate this. Life is just not good. Life used to be good. But it just isnt. it just doesnt work anymore. Theres just no good coming from anything anymore. I hate life. Life is just not worth it anymore. Cant write like I used to. Writing is so stupid. Writing. Cant write worth a fuck. Nothing to write about. Imagination. Decrepit. Nothing left. All is ruin. Hatred. Nothing to write about. Nothing to do. Nothing to be. Nothing to sing aabout. Nothing at all. Nothing going nothing good. Nothing doing something good. No longer write while listening to music. Not good enough anymore. Too tiring. Writing is. Nothing to write about really. Too tired to write. Too nonchalant. Too evil. Just nothing going on. Nothing ever happened in this town. Nothing ever will happen. Thats just the way it is. Nothing ever going on ever. Perception is a tricky thing. One person may be having a blast and the other may be sober as a clam ready to leave. But whatever. It all precipitates into the same thing. Which is, nonsense. You can take all the great classics of the world together and its just nonsense. It just doesnt even matter to anyone except the artist anymore. There is no buyer. There is only the lonely seller. Big time. All the time. Whatever else shall there be. Ill never understand the brevity of it all. Life is short they say. I say it take a long time. Over and over again. It just recurs and theres no fun left in it anymore. Theres no more friends no more parties. No more success. No more prosperity. Just plain hatred and loneliness. Bag a carcass though and theyll all over it. So instead of sleeping today Ive decided to bag me own carcass. Somehow. Need to brush teeth. Need to eat. Need something to do. Need something to keep me occupied. Need something to keep me going. Need a new world all to itself. Need something grander. Something meaner. I dont know what to do but there it is lying right there in front of me. Writing. Just write. Write what you feel, write what you know, write what you dont know, go to school, et cetera and so forth. Still, what do I know. Still. I say still a lot. As though theres a whiskey still around here somewhere. Typing is tricky. Requires speedwork. Cant just drink and go at it like bukowski. Must retain sobriety. I guess.

Must do something. Life is all ive got left. Well then theres death. But who prefers either is a mad man. Listening to I am the walrus. Bad little song. Not sure how bad but there ya go. Sitting on a corn flake. John lennon sang this one. Koo koo ka choo. What a band. Just sings throughout the ages. Just sang it like it should be sung. Whatev. Man though. Ive got nothing. I mean omit needless words is really necessary here. Except I need to type. Ideas and written words are the fashion. Thoughts must improve. Or Ill be impoverished. What else is there. What can I do. What more could you ask for. A lot. Ill give it that. But there ya go. Evil abounds. Evil everywhere. Not sure why or how. What would there be. What can there be. What is there to be. Where is the bee? I love nonsense. Absurdities. If they ever classify me Id like to be considered an absurdist. By and large. All the time really. But what else is there. There must be something that were not entirely getting to the bottom of. I have no idea. There just has to be something that Im not entirely grasping. Like futility. Or utility. Or something. I mean what the hell is up. What am I doing wrong here. What goes on must go off yes? Who knows. What a calamity. What a dreadful writer Ive become. Must improve. Must get better. Must use eloquence. Must be something greater than what I already am. A mathematician. By and large. All the time. Everyday. Cant buy me love. Ya could. I care for money. But then again what the hell else is there. I have no clue. What the hell is the good of it all. I mean Im sick as shit. I just dont know what to do. Im just no good anymore. What the hell is going on. What can I do. Am I a mastermind yet. Is there anything going on these days. Will there ever be anything going on. Probably not. Nothing will ever happen in this nowhere Ville. Nothing ever could happen. Its just a shanty of a place that will never exist to its full potential. Nothing will ever come out of this place. Nothing good. Nothing at all. But there must be something. Theres always something. But there is nothing. Its to controversial. Too contradictory. Too evil. But what else is there. There must be something in the world that precipitates some good out of nothing. Aye. Im at a loss for words. Theres just got to be something. Something worth doing. Theres just got to be anything. Like a yellow submarine. For whatever good thats for. Nobody needs a yellow submarine. Whatever the hell. Who knows. Jesus christ. Why did I choose to be the writer. Ive always wanted to be writer. Now Ill never be a writer. I hate writing. I spit on it. Phooey. What a bad day. Nothing to do. Nothing going. Nothing doing. Whatever else there is Ill never know. What the hell could I be doing that is wrong? Theres got to be something that Im doing that is not right. Else I would be somewhere else. For whatever reason. For some reason. Im not sure why. But there you have it. Just plain stupidity. Glass onion. What the hell. Who the hell knows about anything else anymore. What the hell is going on. The wind blows but thats about it. Typing is very tiring. Theres nothing to write about but it wears me out. I must be of low fatigue. Or of little fatigue. Or something like that. Little tolerance for fatigue. Who knows. Ill never understand. What the hell is going on. What can I do. What is left for me. Can I get some nachos. At the ballgame. Take me out to the ballgame. Peanuts and cracker jacks. Psh. Never in Mylanta. I guess. Ill never know for sure. Dreams are over. Have to give up on em. Just the way it is. Dramatic fashion and all. What else is there. Waiting to die. Waiting for sky high. Whatever else it is Ill never know. Lots of hatred from a nigga. The doctor. Whatever else it is. Man. I need something. I need anything. Whatever it is. It is. This beat is something else. Got me like what. Like I dont even know what the hell is going on. Music for no reason type shit. Just dro in the wind type shit. Cannot follow these negroes. Never could I ever follow a negro. Whatever else there is. Who will ever know. Who will ever know. Ill never know. Thats for sure. Immaturity plagues my writing. Big time culture. Type stuff. These speakers and rappers just spit it. Dont even give a shit. Theyre good too. I cannot poet what theyre rapping. Big timers. Whatever else there is. Man. Writing is a plague. Ill never get it right. Its just so complicated. One day will never come. Ill just have to be this shitty all my life. Forever and ever amen.

Writing for the sake of craft. For no reason. Just liking the write. Writing is something else. Love the write. Screen is way too bright. Oh well. Wish I could make some money. Wish I had my degree. Wish I could do something phenomenal. Ill have to give up writing to pursue an education. Education is a surer way of gaining knowledge and money. The more education the more knowledge. Whatever I want to do. I just need to do something. Its not that hard. I need to figure out what I want to do first. If I do not figure this out then my life will be a greater shambles than I would have ever imagined. I figured my life to be better than this. Living was supposed to be easy. Work was supposed to be joyful. None of this stuff happens. To be a doctor or a professional. To be a bachelor or a master. To be something greater than I could have ever imagined. To be credible. Accomplished. To have made some money. To have done some good with my life. To fight through adversity and make it on the other side. Ill make it. I just have to keep at it. This stuff is just too zany. Ill never figure this stuff out. Its just so weird. Ill never figure it out. But oh well. Ill get it someday. It will work out. It has to work out. Thats what mom says. Itll work out. And I think, it has to work out. I come from parents that did not go to college. I live with a family of very little income. My mother is blind. My father makes the average. My mother does not. Its uncanny how it all is. Ill never understand how to get it all figured out. Just read a good article on doing what one loves. Harder than expected. Seems like Im stuck somewhere with the ambitious and the prestigious. I want prestige but I cannot attain. You have to not want it. You have to want something to do that you can do well for a long time. First thing that came to mind was yard work. I love yard work. I think I do. Its hard to say. I want to write because I want to become a novelist and I want to win awards. But these are hardly possible. I write now for the sake of writing. Because I know that I can become better at this thing they call writing. I know that I can do well because its a simple task. It must be done. Im just that good. I have to do this. So, in conclusion, if it isnt writing then it has to be yard work and if it is not yard work then it has to be something. Not sure if I have found it yet. Not sure if I ever will. He said try to do what you are doing well. I agree with this. But then again, what else is there. My mind just does not like where this is going. I dont think Ill do well in college because I do not like college. I like some aspects of it but then again I hate some aspects. I actually like to sit down and write. Just for the sake of it. Its just in born in me. I like it. I love it I want some more of it. I try so hard. Something like that. Writing is just in me. It has to be. Its my true calling. Its the right thing for me to do. Then its settled. Ill be a writer. I may not be too good at it for years but I need to be. I must be. Writing is the way to go. It has to be done. Therefore, writer am I. writer is what I shall be. I shall write. For who or what? It does not matter. But I know that I must write. If I will ever be published is a matter of my discipline. I know I can start at some places but if I do not then thats fine. I dream of having published in the newspaper for some reason. Id like to have published for something well known but Ill settle for small time stuff. I lose my train of thought easily. Cant focus for shit. Still. Writing is my nature. I love it. So alone and quiet. No need to talk or to speak. Just writing for the sake of writing. Man. Dreams can come true. I dream that Ill write a bestseller, win a nobel prize, win a Pulitzer, make a million dollars, make five million dollars, make ten million dollars, have my books translated into many languages, and so on. But still, I have to do better. My writing is shit. This stuff just cannot compete in the real world. Its like running cross country with those who know how to run very fast for very long distances. I cannot do this. I hate it. I hated doing it when I was doing it. Theres just no way to describe it. Its all so clear right now. It has to come into focus. He said that there had to be some pain and struggle in the process but that its normal. Believe me, its been painful and full of struggle. Ive made my fair share of mistakes. I know how to fail. Its the recipe for success that has yet to be procured in my magical dream kitchen. Ah-ha, yes! Still, something is missing. Something very important. To be a writer is not good enough. I have to be poet, magician, storyteller, master of art, et cetera. Ah, the wonders of writing. Writing is fun. Someone once wrote that and I read it. I believe it. Writing is fun. You can make bumblebees explode and chimneys walk on stilts and have race cars with amphibious qualities. Or monster truck attachments if you wish. The point is Im finally hitting the tip of this ginormous iceberg called writing. Im finally getting it. Its in me. I know it is. Ive got the magic in me. But thats not enough. I still have to write. Quantity produces quality. It has to work this way. Im working way too hard anyway. I usually cant write this legible for very long. I have to take a break. A relapse. Something that will turbo charge my brain. I have no idea. I simply want to write. Simply this and nothing

more. I pray for Justin gardner. Crippled. Sue carol smith. Peromanently injured. How the hell. I hate when people get hurt. Austin peterson severly injured after 4-wheeler wreck. Cant walk anymore. Neighbors have died. Friends of friends have contracted cancer. Life is precious. I hate talking or thinking about this stuff. Talking about wrecks on the road. Deaths are down. Damn. Im a humorist. I have to make fun. Seriousness is not me. I am not grave. I really cant focus. Tv is too interesting. Need music. I still need music while I write. What the hell. Writing. Hell yeah. I love to write. Just need the patience to just fail and fail and fail and fail until it gets just right. Hmmcant seem to be the television. Writing must be weak. Not powerful enough. Too quiet. Not touchy enough. Not big enough. Needs to explode with enthusiasm. Someway. Somehow. Too interesting it is. Man. Need a job. Need something to do in my spare time. With my life and what not. Listening to Interpol. Most underrated band ever. Has rhythm and beat but not really a voice. Not sure how they got my attention. Anywho. There has to be someway to do this very eloquently. Not sure how. Just have to work hard and get it. Just have to draw up a plan. Just have to do it really well. Man. There has to be something Im good at in writing. Something I specialize in. writing freely is a disaster. I have to be good at some other practice. Some way out of here. Has to be. Has to be something good for me. Has to have some significance. Has to have something to do with anything. I want the education and I want the degree but I dont want the work. The work the work the work the work. Krow spelled backwards. What the hell is up. What can I do. What can I be. What is there. What can there become. Needs a little flavor. Needs something of worth. I dont know. Dont ask me. If anyone can follow my writing then they should be lauded. They ought to know that I oft lose my focus and my concentration. For some reason. Not sure why. But thats about it. Who the hell knows. Listening to music, watching tv and typing. Typing is a great deal on the awesome side of life. Must be done rigorously. Must be done with diligence. Altogether awesome. For some reason. Im not sure why life has to be worth a damn. It just does. For some reason. There has to be something that works for us. If there wasnt then wed all die. For some reason. I like to write with my feelings. Different types of feelings. I dont know. This whole writer thing is hard to control. Its all out of whack. Once and for all my niggers. Man I would get shot for having said that. I hope no one comes by and shoots me. For whatever reason. Man. I feel like a good man these days. For whatever reason. For some reason. Knowledge. This concept must be contemplated. Good old knowledge. Must be thought of as something significant. A deal breaker. Something that makes people worth more than high school graduates and people with some college experience. People such as me. Who have no experience at anything whatsoever. What a deal breaker. Man. Keying in letters for words. I wanna drink and write. I wanna be an alcoholic. I wanna. I aint gonna. Never gonna be. Have to be. I imagine having a big truck, a big car, a small truck, a small car. A motrocycle, a jet ski, a house, a mansion, a weight room, set of golf clubs, basketball skills out the ass, writing capabilities, good meals, hot wife, well-disciplined children, living in rosewood, or nyc, or la, or Vancouver, or denver, or Chicago, or florida, or Hawaii, mucho sex. Thats about as much as I can dream right now. Why Vancouver. Ill never make it Vancouver. Aint no reason to go to Vancouver, montreal, Toronto. Marry ellen scott. Or gloria george. Or Nicole smith. Something like that. Gotta marry someone. Gotta do it soon. Gotta race to get my life in order. Gotta get it done. Just got to know how to handle and manage my affairs. All the time. Gotta know how to work. Gotta know how to pursue things with a vengeance. Gotta gettit right. Always. Something has got to give. Something has to work. This cant all be bad work. Some of this has to go a long way. Some of this has to work out for the greater good. My greater good. Or for Gods greater good. God is the greater good. Recognize God in all your ways and he will guide your paths. What shall I do God? What shall I be? Who shall I become? What is my destiny? What is my future? How do I learn the

skills necessary to succeed in school? How to I get it right? How do I master the sweet science of writing? Can I become who I want to become? Can I do it everyday? Can I really be a big shot? Can I make it to the top? Can I get it done? Can I really make it? What are you up to God? Why is japan getting all these earthquakes? What did they do wrong? Why is there evil in the world? Why is there badness? Why arent there more miracles? Why isnt science good enough? Is it math? Should I be a mathematician? I doubt I should be a mathematician. Just looked up calculus and it was a lot more difficult than anticipated. For some reason I have to get things just right. I have to write it just right. I have to get it smoothly, slowly, with a lot of patience, practice, and of course, hard work. But how. And why. Who knows. Ill never figure it out. Itll never be solved for me. Ill just have to figure it out for myself. Yet again. Hurrah. Man. Writing is difficult. Its a practice, indeed and it is difficult. Shot some hoops today. Kind of difficult but not really. I can make it if I really focus on where I want it to go but thats about it. How to articles. Cracks me up. How in the world. Writing. Yet again. Still writing. Just the type is the main thing. Need to change title to typer. I type but no write. No ideas. Nothing fresh. I dont have leprechauns leaping out of lizard skins or anything. I mean thats not much of a story but there ya go. Dimmed the lights on the computer. I swear. Any change while typing is a disturbance that must be accounted for. Shit. Leprechauns. What the hell am I really thinking about? I swear Im just on this scavengers journey to amass my wealth and get my shit together. But thats a hard thing to do. Itll never happen. Ill never have the wealth. Ill never have the opportunity to be known. Theres just no way. Its just not possible. Re-brightened my screen. The dim just wasnt serving me well. Man. Everything I knew about money. It all has to do with education. But whatever. Its all whatever. Its all just something else. Ill never quite understand where Im really heading. Article on doing what you love mentioned something about constraints. How we need them. How we really wouldnt know what to do without them. I disagree. I have a serious money constraint. Well I guess I wouldnt be writing without that but there ya go. Writing for money. Hell yeah. Writing for a better life. Not for the prestige. The prestige is over. Iowa has the writers workshop, Kentucky has its basketball legacy. Simple as that. Just stay with Kentucky. Hell yeah. Kentucky will get better with time. Just have to find the good points in it. The good parts. All the time. Forever and ever. For some reason or nother. Man. Ive got nothing. I mean I really have nothing to write about. My mind is just blank. Its like schizophrenic or something. I thought I had that disease one time but I disagree. I just had to get rid of the stress of the day. Thats about all it was. Stress is so unhealthy. I mean seriously. Life is just so much better without it. Unless its eustress, which is good stress. That stuff can go on and on. Well there ya have it. The late show with david letterman. Writing yet again. Yes. I love to write. For some reason or another. I oft repeat some phrases. For some reason. Im not sure. I think some phrases are easier to type than others. Writing is still hard though. Dragons and broomsticks dont just appear out of nothing. They have to have a source. Im not sure how but something has to contribute to some sort of creativity that I want to exhibit. For some reason. Somehow. Someway. Man. I hate life. Life is so stupid. So silly. But what else is there really. What is there for me. What is there for you. Go get screwed. Post up. Get high. As a kite. Run with that sucker. For some reason. So. How to write. Thats the question. Writing is just a matter of doing it well. Not sure how to write. Why I write. Thats the question. Must write. Its an extension of the arm. It really is. Its just a matter of doing things just right. Forever and ever amen. for a really long time. But damn. Im just not good at it. I cant get enough out of it. So, Ill take what I can get out of it and then just have a ball. Writing is hell. Not good enough. Cant get enough of it. Poetry is the way. The homerics of old. The heroics of new All of us abound All of us anew

Spring has sprung Chaos into order Chemistry in motion It has that effect Be effective Poetry in motion. Nah. I think poetry is over. Its all about the free-writes now. All about them free-writes. All the time. All up in it. Let em see ya spin it. All the time. Let it happen. Let it be. If only I could get life the way I wanted it. But I guess not. Im not a born writer. I have to be made. I have to make it for myself. The writing has to come from within. Writing some more. If only I could get it right. Writing is difficult. If only I could get it right. Theres nothing left. Theres nothing to do. Halfway asleep. Gotta get some sleep. Gotta do the right thing. Gotta get it just right. Man. Life is just too damn difficult. Want to get a college education but its just too difficult. Gotta take classes I know I can pass. Gotta take classes I know I can do well in. stuff like that. I believe in myself. I know I can do this shit. All the time. All up in it. All the time. Forever and ever amen. all the time. Forever and ever. Hallelujah. Praise God. All the time god is good and god is good all the time. For some damn reason. What am I all about anyway. What is this all about. What can I do. What is it all about. What can I get at? What is the meaning of life? What is the meaning of the stone age? What the hell happened to my reputation. What am I good for anyways? What the hell has it all boiled down to. Who knows. How does it all end up in the end. How does is even get to be personal? What is the meaning. Bear with me here. Shit. No deal. Deal or no deal. Nunca. Nada. Forgot what nunca meant. I know its not never. Sounds like it would be never. But there ya go. Who really fucking knows. Man if only I could write like a professional. Make money like a professional. All the time. All up in it. Let me see ya spin it. All the time. All up in it. Let em see ya spin it. What the hell is it all about anyway. Man I feel down. I feel hype. I feel up. But I dont understand it. Void of it. Cant see myself getting much peace working like this. Cant see myself making much money without an education. Must attain. Must receive. Must get it. Must get it. Gotta grab it. Must achieve it. Must put it down. Aside. Gotta win the prize. Gotta win the prize. All the time. Had a good start. Thats about it. Ended abruptly. Big time. What the hell though. Wish I had something to write about. I dont though. Wish I could write. I cant. Im a liar. A fraud. A thief. I cant do anything right. Im miserable. Lousy. Not worth a damn. Whats it all worth anyway. Jeez. What can I get for a buck? Who knows. Man. Im lonely. Just masturbated. Nothing else to do. Had to. Just get so nervous. Man. Theres just nothing. Its all a bunch of philly fally. Silly sally. Stuff like that. Why not though. What the hell. Can I get any dope from anybody? Probably not. Who knows. Would you ever really know? Probably not. Who the hell cares? Who wants to know. Does anyone really care? Is there anyone out there? What the hell. Ill never get anywhere. Rhymes are out of season again arent they? Geezus. I wish I wish I hadnt killed that fish. A brontosaurus. A stegosaurus. Names that nobody will ever remember. Geez Im really out of things to say to be honest. Quantity might produce quality but both are hard to manage. Good night everybody! Writing is fun. That is what I shall do. Writing. Is what I do. Its what I do. This song has rhythm. How to develop a rhythm. A rap. How to do it just right. Wale. Not a good rapper. But I like em. Jimmy osbourne. Not a good writer but I like em. How do I get that feeling back. What the hell is going on. Inside of me. All the time. Man Ive really got nothing to write about. Duh duh duh. Buh buh buh. What the hell. What is there left for me. For you. For anyone. What is there left to do. What can I aspire to be. What will

become of me. What will happen. Can I predict the future. Probably not. Am I a gypsy. Most definitely not. But oh well. I try. I like to listen to rap music. Its cool. Its hip. Its fresh. Or hip hop. Thats pretty cool. Stuff like that. Lotsa good music. Gotta love the life of mine. Need some friends. Not sure how to find friends. Not sure how to attain friends. Not sure where friends come from. Friends are difficult. Made my first friend when I was five. First day of school. Had to make friends then. Had friends all my life. Then college happened. Made a bad decision. Couldnt help it. But thats just about the jist of it. Not sure how to attain another friend. Never sure how to get anymore friends. Just not sure. Just unsure. How to do this thang they call life. Complicated as hell. Who knows. How to get it done. Niggaz. Why do niggaz rap. Whats the deal with all that shit. I celebrate it I criticize it. Whatever. Thats all fine and good. All the time type shit. For whatever. All the time. Never. It happens never. Man I need to brush my teeth. Probably end up like bleeding gums Murphy. Murphy gas station. The simpsons. Meditation. Mind. Energy. Word is birth. Word made flesh. Rap shit. Writing shit. Spit fire. Raw dude. More juice than Sunkist. Bust ball all the time. Like game 7. Yall dont even think about paychecks. Lie all the time. Me and my man. My niggaz bounce. Yalls poor. Hard to follow this rap. Hard to know what good it is. In one mans time negroes were slaves. In another mans negroes were very successful people in some respects. Others are poor as shit. Just like me. I like poverty. Makes ya feel free. But I do some work and I do get paid here and there. Works out in the end. Trying to go back to school. Trying to make it for myself yet again. For some reason. Gotta find my niche. Gotta find that true calling. I know its in college somewhere. Just gotta find it. Life is worth much more than gold. Holy mount zion. Jamming with bob marley. Were jommin. Good little song. Probably took his whole life to produce that. I guess we call these people outliers but then again, what the hell. What is an outlier? What good are they for? Are they just as good as they say they are? Are they worse? Who knows. I need that book. That book on success. Stuff like that just gets to me. For some reason. God is great. All the time god is great and god is great all the time. Allahu akbar. I could never go out and call God Allah. Thats just not me. Not as far as I can see. But I cant see far. Im blind. Just trying to grasp and reach for the nearest rock. The nearest cliff. The nearest ledge. Pope Gregory. incestuous ness. This writerly field needs lanterns. Needs lamps. Needs lights. Run from the velociraptors. The veloci rappers. Jay-z. dope beatz. How do they do it. Dont even know. How to do it. How to get it right. How to nail the monkey on the head. How to learn the craft the way it should be. They say that writing cannot be taught. I agree. Writing is something that comes from within. You just gotta know how to do it. So on and so forth. Half man half mammal. Random verses of memorization. Im just absorbing all material as I can. Just trying to get it right the first time around. This beat is dope. Good for running. For jogging. For listening to in a car on a street. Gotta be able to impress your friends and no one else. Or at least impress that one special friend. Gotta make friends. Gotta be friendly. Gotta be a people person. People skills go far. Gotta learn how to get it right. Somehow. One way or another. Not sure how to get it right. I got it. I think I have it. I think I know what to do for sure. I feel the life force in me. I feel myself losing my insanity. I feel the master. I feel it. Garbage is no longer. I have the secret. Ive found the code. I can solve the puzzle. I know the question to the answer in case we playin jeopardy. Man. I have it. Write stuff that impresses friends. This is hard but worth it. Must be a great writer. No must be a good writer. Have stuff that is well-written. Well-written is better than greatness. Either have to take baby steps or just keep it at good and well-written. Sometimes ya gotta back track. Do the moon walk young man. Stairway to heaven all the way. The devil. Meaner than a red man machine. Well oiled and greased for action. Ready to bust a move. Every day he was a mean well oiled machine. The devil was he. Him and daniel Webster double teaming mark twain. Twain and his solitarian universe. Dickinson and her suicidal self. Whitman and his free versed leaves of grass. Austin duerst and his egoism. Love that man. Had to fight him. He insulted my honor. But what honor. I was pathetic. Had to fight though. Called me a faggot. Obviously was not. Disputation. Got me three times in the eye. Had to forfeit. Friends stopped him. Thankfully. I was miserable. Maybe Ill make it back to ic one day. Loved that place. Expensive though. Cost a fortune. Out of state tuition isnt a joke. Its not worth it. It wasnt worth it. Just a big mistake I made early in life. Hope to not make any more. Hope for perfection. Still. Cold weather. I stayed in shape somehow. Attracted an Italian american

girl. Not the prettiest but it lasted for a little while. Worked for a little while. Dont see how it couldnt have. Big money. Things just werent all that great. Enough about me. Thats just too deep. It got too cold. Way too cold. Did something to me physically. I was changed. scarred. Cold mentality. Cold attitude. Man. Just want a different life now. Not sure how to make it. Have to make it. Have to impress. Have to work on the small things. The very small things. Get back with my friends. Get back with the way things were. Gotta make it with myself first. Feels like my life is turning around. Somehow. For some reason. Lovin it. Ahh. Spring time. Lovin life. Rebelliousness. Must abound. Writing in a fever. Must be something to write about. hoopla and what not. Things that I cannot change. Things that I want changed. good times are coming. What lameness. What horrible days. The old is over and the new is here. I think everyone loses their friends because they want money or prestige. Or greatness. Something like that. They find what they want and then they go and produce that. At least, thats what it seems like. As a writer I think I ought to know what to say and just when to say it. No matter how difficult. Or something like that. Im unsure how to get it just right. Need a shower but just too lazy. All the time. Just too lazy. All the time. Must be something wrong with my voice. Whatever. Must be icebox crane coming through here on his headless horse. Dont you hate when you get the facts mixed up? Call this number 555-555-5555. Easy as that. Theyll fix your problem. Just dial 5s. Man. Life is what you make it. It has to be. What fun. All the time. A guest appearance. A cameo. All the time good stuff. When will you come back down to earth. Who knows. Ill never figure that one out. Ill never know what the hell Im going through. Can anyone help me in these matters? Probably not. Who knows. Ill never figure it out. Knever. Always wanted to type knever. Pretty clever, huh? I can see where I thought I had schizophrenia. Just typing too fast. Way too fast. Hard for the mind to comprehend. What an emotional person I was. Crazy times. All the time. Forever and ever. Amen. I hate saying that. Im not worth forever and ever amen. not even. Not never. What a douche. Shew wee. If I figure out what went wrong with me. Ill probably make a million dollars. I guess. I dont know. This is getting complicated. Who knows. What else can there be. What can I do. What can I be. What is there to be. Jimmy the poet. Nah. Jimmy the cool dude he used to be. Always remaking ourselves. Out with the old in with the new. All the time. Crazy things happen. Intelligences are matched. Intelligences are taken for granted. Stuff happens. All the time. All over america. These things always happen. Writing happens. We become lovers. We become writers. We search. We seek. We learn to love. We have a ball. We do it all. We are who we think we are. End of story. Lovely time of spring. Loving it. Loving this weather. Good times are for everyone. Knew Id be out of this drought. Knew good things were coming just around the bend. Knew I could get it back. Knew it was there all along. Im done with wishful thinking. No more. Nothing like it. Iowa. Skyowa. Thats my brothers. nobody else can have it. What is there though. Theres got to be something greater for us. Grander. Playful. Something more exuberant. Something expensive. Something worth a lot of other somethings. Something like that. Writing again. Nothing to write about. Not worth the telling. Smoked some dope last night. Got high. Drank some beer. Got drunk. Drove home. Good times. Writing. Nothing to do but to write. Pretty good at trying to impress those I dont know. Would rather try to impress those that I do know. How to though. No idea. Instead, Ill write what I know. Easy as that. Just write what I can. Baseball is the subject today. Joe buck announcing. Different kind of talk. Kind of speech. Yankees and bosox. Cory and Patrick got pussy last night. I did not. Very wild. Wild times for sure. Hate baseball. So slow. Nothing happens. All in your head. Green monster. Two run double. Could have made a move on bailey marcy but it just didnt look like a good idea. Not at all. Bad times ahead. Big bad times. After a good time comes a bad time. every time. All the time. How to get my butt in shape. How to get it right. How to get it done. I have no clue. Im not sure life is about being clued in but Im sure it helps. Having clues to solve the mysteries and what not. Whatever mysteries may abound.

Man. What a life we lead. What a bad time. What a great time. What a day I live in. what a great time. Howzit. Look it. Check it. Stuff like that. What to write about. Gee. Nothing. Theres just nothing to write about. Not a thing. Not anything. Writing is hard in the first place. But it is also very fun. Very very fun. All the time kind of fun. Still. Theres something missing from my life. Big time. Big time missing out on stuff. What can I do. What can I become. What is there. Who is there. Will there be anyone anywhere. Ever? Is there ever anything bad going on? May I see the doctor? A doctor? Whats a doctor? What does a doctor do? Question marks. Hatred of said question marks. Man. How to not become a college dropout. America likes to say that college dropouts turn out to be successful when the fact of the matter is that college dropouts earn less than those with bachelors degrees. This is on average. I dont feel like doing the college game but I do. I want to but I cant afford it. Theres just no way that I can afford college. Its just not possible. Its not feasible. It just cant happen. I dont know why or how but I just cannot get this thing to occur. I need it to happen but without assistance its just plain impossible. My life is screwed up. Ill never get it right. Ill never make money doing this. It just takes time. But I need money now. Always need money. I need some sort of way to change the government. Its all wrong. All the time. Its not even close to right. Not even close. But who cares, right? I know I dont. but still. Theres got to be something worth doing. Theres got to be something out there for me. Something to do. Something to become. Something else. Just anything. Whatever it is. I guess. Ill never know. Different writing for this movie. It goes a little bee-boppy. A little weird. A little hard. Everything is a little hard. I mean I hate life right now. Nothing to do. Man I hate life. Nothing is ever good enough. Life just really digs deep down at me. It just isnt that good. Things are just horrible. Big time. All the time. Bad times. All the time. This movie couldnt get any worse. Man. What a stupid day. Drank too much. Completely dehydrated. Just not feeling like much today. Not going to very many lengths to get it done. To get it right. To possess the gift. To have what it takes. To produce. To publish. To know. To have. Jealous of Patrick and cory. Hatred. Pussy. Separates friends. This song is really a bummer. Death cab. Band should be called death to the cub. Damn bears. Nah. I dont know. What the hell is it good for. What can go on. Whats it good for. Whats it all for. Whos there for anybody anymore. Is there anything left. Can I get a hand job. Or a blow job. Or just a job. Is there anything left for me? For you? Can we just take and plant as we choose. As we please. Can we sing whatever song we want to. Can we just meet people like tim bob and love life. Is life really this good. Can it get any worse. Are there better days ahead. Do I have to go back to school. Do I want to go to school. Do I have any survival mechanisms left? Am I college material? Do I have material aspirations? Do I have depth or substance? Is life really this bogus? Can there be any relief for you or me? Is there anything more melodramatic than ambition? Can I get away with anything? Is there anything left? Can I get away with stealing? Is there anything left to do? Anything going to happen? Can I get away with it? Is it all just a bunch of wasted life? Can I be a poet? May I be a poet? Is there anything holding me back? Do I really want anyone to complete me? Is there anything Id rather be doing? No. there is nothing left for me in this life. I am alien. All the time an alien. Boo ya ka shaw. Song on the tv is pretty good. Not sure how. But there ya go. Man. If only I could have one of those dream girls. That would complete me. But I like solidarity. I like the night life. I like it all. It all works out. It fits in. it gets the job done. All is well. Its all been said and done. But we cant stop there. We have to do it better. Grander. More especial. More awesome than ever before. Some things I say. Some times I dare. Some day Ill be. One day things will be different. I can sense it. I can smell it. Just awesome. Life is the way to go. Not death. Stared at its face for too long. What a life. What a day I live in. what a life. Shew. Skadoo. Scandalous. Big time awesome times. What the hell. What can I do. What is there. What is not there? What can I do. Can I become independent? Can I get it done? Can I get it right? Is it all for me? All the time? Can I officially get in bed with a woman once more? Is my life going to shit? Yet again? Can I get it right. Is it really this bad of an enterprise? Is writing just this bad? Will it ever change? Is there ever anything going on? Will my life ever turn around? Can I get it back? Can I get it right? Can I? will I? will it

happen? Am I just a screw up? Who knows? Ill never know what the hell is going on. Its all just nonsense. Its all really bad really. Not really wroth much of a damn anymore. Garsh I hate it. Big time hatred. Jesus. Life is just bad altogether. I hate my life. Life is just bad. Hatred all around. I really cant get anything out of anything. Nothing is the way to go. This song rocks. Big time. Again. Death cab. Found it when jesse was at western. Big time. If only I can master a way of being alone. Autonomous. Big time. If only. If only things were better than I could ever dream of. What dreams may come. What we may dream of. What may we dream of. Can we extend the horizons of our dreams? Can we? Shall we? Shall dreams be the stuff of our realities? Probably not. Dreams. Hatred of dreams. Theyll never amount to much. How much money does it take to fund a dream? Exactly. Dreams are expensive. Over and over again. Does meditation really work or am I just lazy? I dont know what to think. Man. Its been a long time. I can remember my childhood. Thats an accomplishment for me. Completing college. That would be an accomplishment. I dont think I could complete college. Its just not in the agenda. Making the bare minimum is in the plans for me. All the time. No hope. No competence. No life street life thug life. Flash lights. Street lights. All of the lights. Big time playa. All the time. Writing dulls after a while. Nothing to really relate to. Nothing to think about. Just type and get it done. Boring. I know. How the hell. Muscle fibers must be torn down to be built up. How the hell does that work? Need a party. Need to party. Want to party. All the time. Every time. Whatsoever. Nothing quite like it. Theres just nothing quite like spacesuits. Gotta love those spacesuits. Outer space. Theres only a limited number of subjects we could ever talk about. I guess. Im not sure. Im just not sure of the whole shebang. I just dont think I can do it anymore. Its just too much. I cant do it. Its been too long. Its been too hard. Ill never be able to see it the right way. As I see fit. Theres just nothing left for me. Or you. Its all been done. Its all used up. Nothing left to do. Nothing left to be. Just bad memories. Obstacles. Always obstacles. All the time type shit. All the time. Whatever. What the hell. Home is here. Ill never be able to call anything else home. Ill never ever feel at home. Ill never get anything right anymore. Its all just a big annoyance. Big time. All the time. Man its just a bad day. Thats all it is. Just a bad time. All the time. Writing poetry without stanzas. Thats the way to go. Just write freely and get it right. Never be too loose about what you want to do. Ever. Never ever. Trick never ever. Get on my level ho. Some of that language is just disturbing. Big time. Bad time. All the time. Forever and ever. Amen. whatsoever is the good Ill never find out. True to the game. Stay hood. All the time. Forever and ever. Dreams of stars and superstars wasnt worth it in the end. Just wants to impress his friends. Just wants to be akin. Just wants to fit in. never will. Never has. Never can. Big bad bossman. Bosley funeral home. Big bad bossman. Man my words just arent adding up to much. Writing just to save a life. Just to write. Writing is the key. Its the answer. What would there be without writing. I wouldnt exist thats for sure. Writing is the solution. Its the key. Because. Because why? Because. It helps you communicate better. It helps you breathe better. It just helps you wholly entirely. Fully. All the time. It just helps you. For whatever reason. Im unsure of what but there ya go. Just gotta maintain something. Just gotta have something. Spiritual prowess. What is this. Look it up. Yeah right. Looking up things is about looking down. What an oxymoron. Right? Im probably wrong. Im always wrong. All the time kind of wrong. Jesus louise. What the hell was I good for. What the hell is anything good for? What is it all? Why is it all? What is the point? What is the use? How do I get from a to b? is it all lemon peazy. Lemon cheesy? Is it all about anything worth anything anymore? Am I an oxymoron? Is it all worth about the same in the real circumstances of life? Isnt it all just a bunch of hoopla. Probably not. I have no clue. Though. Theres just nothing for me to do. Im empty. Its over. Fuck friends. Ill never want to publish for friends. I want to publish for the great unknown. All the time. The greater people. Those that I do not know. Ill get it right. Some for friends and some for those that I just dont know. All the time type stuff. What the hell though. What am I supposed to do? Its my auditioning isnt it? Jesus louises. Man. Ive never been so freed. I thought I was going to have a heart attack trying to get my friends to read this shit. I mean I can barely write. Much less for friends. Friends would reject it. Big time. What the hell. Who am I? what am I made

of? What are my strengths? What are my weaknesses/? Can I evolve? How fast is evolution? How do we know? How can we know anything for certain? Isnt it all just a big waste of time, space, energy, et cetera. Probably so. Maybe not. I dont know. Isnt it all just a bunch of hooey. Huey lewis. All the time. This beat rocks. For some reason. Theres got to be a good song here and there. Not all songs rock. Must be noted: I generally listen to music while typing. Makes it seem like theres more going on than there actually is. Took a long drive today. Saw the countryside. Spring has sprung. Fall will be here before ya know it. And then winter. Dreadful. What the hell. Too tired for anything really cool. Just too tired to perform. Just too tired. Whatever though. Sorry is the day. Sorrow is my say. Just spray it. Dont try not to. Just get better at writing than other people. Thats the key. Thats the answer. Thats the secret. Nah. Its more about doing better than everyone else. Working hard. Taking time. Its easy work but if you make it time consuming it might seem like hard work. Who knows. I just want to go home. Ive wanted to go home. Home will never be the same. Not how I left it. Ill never get another childhood. Something like that. Who knows. Things are just weird. All the time kind of weird. Eerie even. Who knows. Get it right. Get it tight. Whatever. Just get it. Long beach in the house. Inglewood. Gee. What is Inglewood? Is it purple and gold? Probably not. I hate Inglewood. For some reason. Need money. Poverty aint what its cracked up to be. For some reason. Have to know what its all about first. At least I can write. Thats something to be thankful for. Life with God is awesome. Its kind of weird but I like it. Just praise the lord. Reach your salvation. Get it good. Thank God for the day. Always keep God in your mind, your heart, your steps, et cetera and so on. For sheezy my neezy. Who knows. Money is the key. Money is the answer. Without money youre nothing. Youre sunk. Youre not worth bupkiss. You aint worth shit jimmy thats all it adds up to. Ya aint worth shit. Nobody gives a damn about ya. Its as simple as that. Big time. All the time. I hear ya. Hear ya all too clear. Just be friendlier next time. Just get it right. Just get it done. Writing is the devil. What the hell. Why is it that way for? I hate it so much. Its just not worth anything to anyone. Why you so worried about worth? Because I want to know if Im wasting my time or not. Who cares if you waste your time. Youve got oodles and oodles of time. A little wasted time never hurt anybody. People have too much time and not enough money. Always enough time, never enough money. I say its the workforce that has the biggest problems. Nobody ever wants to work unless its something that they like doing. Now thats truth. You can pay a worker but if he dont agree with it then he going to quit. Simple as that. Big time boss. Hell yeah. Imagine by john lennon was a good song. Dont see why it took so long for me to hear it but there ya go. Its a pretty good one. I like it enough. The problem with all that work into a craft is that once you get good you think youre better than most and act that way as well. It just doesnt work out for the psyche. Never works out for the psyche. Impossible subjects I know. Always impossible. But theres some possibility in the impossible. Always possibility. My aunt won the lottery from christ sakes. You have to take that as a sign. Itll work out. It always has to work out. Just as simple as that. Big time. All the time. Whatsoever. All the time. Forever and ever. Amen. who knows. Who wants to know. Who can know. Its all for the knowing. Knowledge is somehow power. I disagree. Knowledge is a fickle thing. Somehow the cornerstone of society. Somehow annoying as shit. Somehow the worst subject Ive ventured upon thus far. But it works. All the time. Everyday even. Works like a charm. All the time. All up in it. Let em see ya spin it. Geez louise. All the time. Everyday. For all time. Even now. Time time time time. Got so much time that I dont know what to do with it. Isnt that something. Got a whole lot of time. Time is the essence. If you can figure out what to do with time then I think youve got it made. Because no matter what, youre in that sphere of time. Always looking forward, backward, and immediately in front of you. What a day we live in. what a deal. Writing. Just making sure that Im writing. Probably obsessive compulsive disorder. Compulsively obsessed with writing. The end. Supper time. Writing again. Just like its a crime. A game. Something like that. Gotta keep that ball rolling. Gotta be the best. Gotta be a great writer. Gotta be the best. All the time. Consistently. On a consistent basis. Stuff like that. All the time. Forever and ever. Amen. need to find a way to make a contract with someone. I guess. I dont know how people get along with others enough to want to take them out and keep them for the rest of their doggone lives.

Writing. Like its a good thing. Like things are supposed to be good. This show is annoying. Its slow. What can I do. What can I be. Who am I. what is there. Repetition. I hate repetition in my writing. I hate my writing. Its just not a fun process. Its no good. Its not fun. Theres just nothing in it. No money no nothing. I hate it. This writing thing is just over. Theres nothing for anybody. Theres just nothing for me. Im a failure to society. Jesus. What a great day its been. What a wild time. What a bad time. How crazy its been. How messed up it all is. Just cant get enough of it really. Hate it. Just dont like it. Never could. Never will. Snowball writing. All the time. No pain no gain. I am epic win. Good commerical. I push the limits. Such and such. Jimmy osbourne is a snafu. Nothing more than a snafu. Nothing less, nothing more. Such and such. Big time playaz. Not such a good writer am I. well it takes practice. Takes time. Some getting used to. But thats all. No big rush. Although I feel it. I feel I need to be more skilled. Just a better overall player. All the time type stuff. For some reason. Treason. All that stuff. For some reason. What is there. Could there ever be any good from anything? Is there ever anything? No. there is nothing. I think I liked it better when I long paragraphs. Bigger thoughts. Longer thoughts. More of a snowball effect that lasted. But how to get it back. I dont know. I dont think its possible. Im just trying to get my name out there. Just trying to become rich and famous. Just trying to become the person Ive always tried to become. Just something like that. Never a moment too soon. Never a moment too late. What the hell ever, right? Jeezuz. Theres just nothing for me. And nothing for you. Jesus. Nothing to write. No one to write to. No one to impress. Nothing to say. Nothing to do. Might as well just give up. For some reason. For some way. Nah. Giving up is for amateurs. Exactly. Big time stuff. Nah. Small town mentality. Small time stuff. Want to go get a drink tonight but seems hard going to cozys two nights in a row. For some reason. Things are just complicated as shit. Big time playaz. Ought to be shot. Shotgunned. Who knows. Ill never figure out this little romance called life. Ill never figure out the way of the world. Ill never get a headstart. Shew wee. Hot dogs. Nothing to do. Nothing to become. Nothing at atll. Just plain shit to do. Better than rotten shit. Better than poverty. Least they give me stuff here and there. By and by. Time and time again. Who knows. Maybe Ill make it one day. Maybe Ill be a superstar. Maybe itll all be all right. Yeah right. I cannot write creatively. I can only write like this. Just miserable. The petty writings of james osbourne. What a way to go. What a james osbourne. What a way it is. How in the world can life get any worse. Can it get any better. Probably not. Can I do better? Probably not. I did well in school but that doesnt mean I can do well in anything else. Its all so faulty. Its so difficult. Its all so hard and tried. Its all been done. Damn. Still like the little paragraphs. But I have to go big. Big thoughts. All the time. Playa down. Nothing to do. Nothing to be. Nothing to give my time to. I give up again. And again. And again. Jesus. Theres no help in the world that can help me. Nothing in the world will ever help me. Nothing is going on. Nothing is happening. Im not getting anywhere. Its all so horrible. Big time playa stuff. All the time. Big time. Just nothing going on. Nothing happening. Might go to the bar tonight. Might not. Not sure. Lifes a bitch. Lifes pretty bad. Its pretty shitty. Just not a good time for real. Hatred for life. Hatred for self. Hatred for soul. Hatred for the way it all is. God. For petes sake. The outlook for my life is slim to nil. Its just not even worth a dollar. Not even worth a dime. I give up. Writing is a disease. I love it though. Gotta love the write. Writing is the shit. Its all that and a bag of chips. A jar of pickles. Its all that and a drawer full of socks. Its all that and an unmade bed. Its just awesome. First and foremost. Picking my nose. Peeling the skin from a burn. There. Got it all. Bad writing. Time for good writing. The pony and the express. For some reason. For reasons unknown. Who knows. I dont. man. Big headache. Big time playaz. Big time everything. All the time. Big time. For ever and ever amen. man writing is hard. They say dont give up after the first ten years. Shit. I wonder if I even have ten years in me. Probably. Ive got a lot of years left in me. A whole lot. Man I feel like cigarette smoke. Big time. Things are just that

heavenly. Heaven sent. Smoked some dope last night. Just a little. Wanted more. Couldnt get it. All the time type shit. If only I could smoke weed everyday. All the time. For medicinal reasons of course. Shit. If they pass that law in Kentucky then well be set. All the time type shit. Just smoke weed everyday. Hard to find a man that will compensate for that though. It relieves aches and pains. It induces enlightenment. It feels good. Its cool. Its refreshing. Its a fun thing to do. Just legalize it already. Its not very effective when illegal. Illegal things are just so damn expensive. Ten dollars for a joint? Thats like ten dollars for a cigarette. I just dont believe in it. No sir e bob. Man. A writer. Whoda thunk thatd Id become a dang old writer? I guess I saw it coming but still. What is there for a writer. For this writer anyway. What is there for me? Who knows. Ill figure it out one day. One day Ill get it right. Writing. Its a plague. Its awesome though. Loving write. Love the write. Love the ride. Love it all. Just love. Nothing but love. Lovey dovey all the time. Ooh baby Ill sure show you a dime. How in the world. How in the hell. How do I get life the way that I want it. This is a question. All the time life. Life is all the time. All the time is life and life is all the time. From the time you get up to the time you go to sleep. All the time is life and life is all the time. Jimmy is a nancy poo. Jimmy is a wiener schnitzel. Id hate to live with the word schnitzel. Big bad blitzkrieg. Stuff like this and that. Just doesnt make sense. Never would. Never could. Never will. Never in a mill. Yun years. Ever. Never ever. Bitch trick. You could never ever. Get on my level ho. Bitch trick. You could never ever. Get on my level yo. Thats all for today. Gotta play basketball. Gotta be a big time baller. All the time. Stuff like this and that. All the time. Writing again. Just got through staring at that blank page. What a blank page it is. Would rather be doing something else. Nothing else to do though. Whatever. Whatever is ever. The ever is never. Whatever. Forever. Revere. To fear. Sincere. Paul revere. Hit a deer. Im a queer. Im right here. This is clear. Have no fear. Be sincere. Time to cheer. Be a hero. Not a zero. Et cetera and so on. What do you do when you fall in love? Who knows. If you aint getting any sex then it doesnt count. Thats how it all is. The predictability. The humanness of it all. Whatever though. The whatever of it all. The hatred of it all. Oh, the humanity. Drank too much this weekend. Not a really big drinker. Now I am. Nah. I hate drinking. I hate cozy. I hate going out there. Bad times for all. Bad times for everyone. All the time. Forever and ever amen. Whacked off to a dick sucking video. I couldnt help myself. Just too irresistible. simply irresistible. shew wee. Writing like a psycho. Writing like a nympho. Writing like I cant know. Writing like it wont show. Doing as Im told. Being as an old fogie. You know how it go. You know how it went. You know the penalties. You know how these things are. You know how it is. You know what it is. Black and yellow. Wiz khalifa came in and out like his girlfriends pussy. Something like that. Who knows. How the hell does it all work out in the real world. I will never know. I love the real world. If executed properly. No basketball for me. Too windy. No way in hell. No sir. Hate writing. Scared of the telecommunication of life. Its very scary. It really is. Talking to people when theyre not really there. Messed up shit. How is it really though. I have no idea. Wish I could write like a pro. The dog ran fast. Subject: dog. Predicate: ran. Adverb: fast. Or is that an adjective? Who knows. Ill never figure this shit out. Why is my life so scary? Why is it so boring? Why is it so stupid? Why is life so complicated? Who knows. Can I write like this? Is it really hard to write after 10 years? Is there anything to talk about. Anyone to be besides the self. Thats all I am. I cant be 24 characters in a novel. I cant be all these people that Ill never understand. Who the hell. Why the hell. Is it even worth hell. Probably not. No clue. Nada. if only I could speak Spanish. If only. If only I were worth something more than I can think of. If only things were better. If only things were different. If only I could get it done. Get it right. If only things were solitarian. If only I could live a lie. Or a life. Or anything. Tired of life. Tired of death. Tired of silly questions. Needs some time. Needs time to hatch. Needs time to mature. Needs time to get it done. Life is something of a bad day. One continuous bad day that never really

meant to end. Instead, you end. The day doesnt end, we end. Isnt that a sorrow. That damn sun lasts longer than we do. Now how in the hell do we comprehend that? I guess we dont. I guess. Man. Damn. Well damn. Yes sir. Thats the ticket. Who in their right mind. I mean what the hell am I trying to think about here. Life is too complicated. Life. Simple as that. Just life. Simply this and nothing more. The golf game is actually very exciting. Not sure why or how but there ya go. Three sentences. If only I could write the sentence like I really wanted to. But no. I cant. not enough time. Not enough patience. Must keep going. Must be a speedy writer. Must be a good man. Must be a just man. Must be a hell of a man. Must be the man. Must know my limits as a writer. I have them. Not much more than that. Very straight and narrow. I dont like the straight and narrow. But it probably works out somehow. Who knows. Ill never figure it out. Ill never get it right. Who knows. What would anyone do. What would anyone become. How can I get it right. Who the hell is worried about it anyway. Is it even good for anybody? Is there any hope for me and you? Is there any good left in the world. Is there anything at all that I would like to do. Or become. Are you mad? Can you get it done? Can you get it right? Who have you become exactly? What will you do? What will you have become? What is the reason. What is the meat and potatoes of everything? Does everything come with meat and potatoes. I hate meat with potatoes. Too rough. Makes for rough bowel movements. Such is this. Man. Writing. Love it. Hate it. Disgrace it. Just love it though. Cant get much good out of it. Got to love it. Must love it. Have to love it. Have to know it. But what. What but. Wish I could talk to gloria. Love to talk to gloria. Shes my woman. I love her. If I did not have her then I would be in quite the bind. Big time. I could never talk to her though. Shes too awesome. Shes forbidden. Very much the forbidden fruit. If only I could make something of my life. Something worth another something. But time. How time just rolls by. Like a hay roller. Always stopping to gather rolls. Big old beads of time. Nah Im not that good yet. I cant make similes and metaphors. Those are complicated. Multi-faceted. Such is the way of life. Too tired to type. Need this day for rest. Need this day for jimmy. For self. For soul. For heavens sake. For whatever I love. For the game of basketball. Nah. Im not that good. Im never that good. Its just that simple. Life is just so fd up. Ill never get it right. Nah Ill get it right. I hope the reader will love this internal dialogue that I have built up. For myself really. Ah. Man. How life just adds up in a certain way. How it all just seems to be so splendid. every time. All the time. Forever and ever. Amen. amen corner. Watching the masters on cbs. What a showing. I could never golf. My sport. I want it to be tennis but then again, how, and why? And with who? And when? How so? Stuff like that. But then again, why not? Not a clue. How to have clues. Blues clues. Stuff like this and that. With a razzle dazzle to the left and a razzle dazzle to the right. All the time. Forever in fact. In fact, its forever. How to write dreadfully. My bull horse is a smidgen too big. Thats writing dreadfully. Talking about bull horses being too big. Geez. What a life Ive led. Still unsatisfactory. But well worth it. I want to go on and on and on. Forever and ever. Complacency is my nemesis. What does it mean to be conceited. I dont like it. Maybe I should take this into consideration. Why I am conceited. I am conceited. I do have a lot of pride in myself. Thats just the way I was raised. I think. Nah. Im proud of my performance at west marion. Not so much at st. charles but yes at mchs. Not so much at iowa. But maybe at uk. So how do I get rid of this conceit. What am I to do. Not a clue. No answer. No se. Hmm.conceited. What am I supposed to do. Conceit. Vain. Full of pride for ones self. Why do they hate me. Why did they hate me. What was I supposed to do. What is there to do. What is there to become. Hmm.Im really pondering this. Conceit. Only person brave enough to call me out on it. But why. And why her. Why was conceit such a way. Ill never figure this out. Conceit. Psh. Simply this and nothing more. Conceited. Ha. Ill bet. Yeah right. Hmmhow do I become less conceited. Ill never figure this one out. Not no way no how. Pride in ones self. Conceited.

Oh well. Ill make it. Itll pass on. Its all got to work out eventually. Itll all work out. It has to work out. Thats just the way were designed. We dont fail so tragically that we curl up and die in disgrace. Thats not the way it works. Thats not how its supposed to be. Its supposed to be better. Its supposed to be different. Its supposed to reflect who we are. Man. Have I been proud. Do I fall time and time again? A proud man goeth before a great fall. man. I feel bad for myself. Im almost ashamed of whatever it is that Ive done. What a day I live in. what a day. What a day we live in. what a day. Alackaday. Jack Kerouac. Seriously. What the hell am I going to do with myself? Ive got all this time and nowhere to spend it. Im seriously stuck up my own ass. Thats incredible. How about this and that. How about anything. Writing is dead. I cannot resuscitate it. Bury it. Take me home. Writing again. For the sake of writing. Not much else to do but to write. Write write write. I must admit that I made a bad life choice. I do no like the write. I hate writing. Its not good enough. I like basketball but I didnt stick with it. What am I to do. For love of the game. What am I to do. What can I do. What is there to do. What can I accomplish. Is there anything out there for me? Is there life out there? Yadda yadda yadda. Damn. Ive been so blessed. With my abilities. I guess. Ill never know. But writing. Yes, writing. Typing. Yes typing. How to write. Well it takes a lot of time, practice, patience, et cetera. I guess. Im not sure. Why wouldnt it. How does one become proficient at this writing disease? How am I supposed to know. What good is there for me. What good is there for you. Who knows. I want to go to Chicago. Or new york. Or los angeles. Or san Francisco. I want I want I want. And if I dont get Ill be highly upset. I think anyway. I dont know. Whos to say. Who is there around today? Can I say hey. I feel like a damn childrens book author. Gd. Gee double dee r vee. Gddrv. Weird little combination of letters there. Not sure what to make of it. Think Ill just go and die somewhere. I love dying. Its the best part of waking up with folgers in your cup. I guess anyway. Isnt this truth? Why am I being persecuted? My psychological state reflects a memory of a commercial. Is that a crime. No. I think not. Damn. Im miserable. Writing is horrid. If anyone ever tries to write ever again Ill shoot thema letter. For no reason. For whatever reason. I mean. I dont know. Is there anything going on these days. Can I get anywhere in this society? No. there is social injustice at hand. No one is satisfied. The economy is down. Terrorists and taking over. A black man is president. Civil war. Murder. Rape. Greed. Social inequality. Just plain badness all around. Very few people in america control the wealth. Im not one of them. Unfortunately. But fortunately Im in good health. At least I think so. Whatever I guess. What the hell am I supposed to do. How the hell am I supposed to interact with other people. Why do I refer to hell a lot? What is it with me? What am I good for? Is there anything worth living up to? Can I get social re-assurance in any way? Who knows. Ill never figure this stuff out. Woe is me. Woefully me. Despicable me. Insidious. All the time. Bad things happen for reasons unknown. Silly billy. Philly fally. Sleepy head. Tumble out of bed. Early bird. Crazy song. Good morning. Days dawning. Sleepy head tumble out of bed. Its another morning early bird. I guess. Weird day. Man. Wish I could get a hell yeah. Haha. Wish I could play cards again. Wish I could. Wish I would. Why wouldnt I. how couldnt I. what is the meaning of all this disgrace in the community. What is a community. Why is it so unattractive. Who cares about the community. I dont care about the community. Why should you? The community doesnt have gold or any way of making money. Its just another ploy by the government. Why doesnt the government ask for help from the people. Its for the people. Its not for them. The people need money. Again. We always need money. For whatever reason. Its just a matter of fact. If you dont give money to the people then nothing good will happen. Simple as that. We all need money. I need money. Wealth distribution. Better jobs. Higher pay. None of that will ever happen. Inflation. National debt. Unwillingness. Just like Ill never want to work for the government. Or do anything for them. Ill be a writer and theyll be the government. Just as simple as that. Writing is the bliss. Follow your bliss he said. Good old joe Campbell. Why cant we follow his advice. Why cant we get money? Who knows. Ill never figure this stuff out. I could hold one of them hostage until some of my stuff gets published and paid for. Thats meeting the needs of the consumer. I guess anyway. Who knows. Ill never understand political science. Its just a waste of time. Never a good time either. What the hell is life all about these days. What can I get for free. I feel like moving to Africa.

Get shot and killed. Yeah right. Genocides, wars, nuh-uh. Not for me. Id be the first person to go in Africa. Maybe mexico. Nah. Drug wars. Its just not safe anywhere anymore. Its safe right here but for how long. Maybe thats where my money is going. Safety. For some reason. Who knows. This is just impossible. The problem with the economy is that we categorized it as the economy instead of the money that we need. If we added up all the money that we need it would surely outweigh the national debt. Who knows. All I know is that we have a lot of systems that just dont work. Its that simple. These systems simply dont work. We need better systems. Improved societies. Things that will keep us going. We need more good times than bad. But how. And why. Isnt this all about the money anyway. Who knows. Im dissatisfied. One american. Does one american matter anymore. Probably so. To some minds. Whos to say. Why am I filled with idioms? I do not like this. I do not like green eggs and ham. I must change. I must re-mold myself into something bigger. Something better. Something much larger than what Ive become. Blue magic. Something like that. Flippin a couple words. Music in the sky. I could never be a rapper. I can be a writer. I can be a poet. But I could never rap. Why those crazy African Americans do it I will never know. I guess theyre just natural born lyricists. Ill never understand how rap and basketball could possibly come from slavery. I guess all that freedom really does a number to the psyche. But look at me. Im writing like a mad woman. Look at all my freedom. Loads and loads of it. I guess this is what our forefathers had in mind. Loads and loads of freedom. Well, weve attained it. But now we need the money. Freedom from fear of having money. Freedom from fear of losing money. Barack Obama is the one that wrote about all this freedom from stuff. Freedom is no longer acceptable. We need freedom from. A freeing away. Fields and streams are no longer our happiness. We live in a material world filled with goods and services. Business is never good for anyone. No one has any money. We need more money. Lots of people with lots of money. We need this. So the national debt increases. Big whoop. We need this. A free society needs the money. Without money we are doomed. I guess. I mean. Im not sure. Im no expert on the subject but I know that it could help out a lot. Free money for everybody. I mean a lot of us work hard for whatever reason. Reasons unknown to us. But Ill never figure it out. I feel like my mother is listening to me type. I do not like it. Im being spied on. Thats never a good sign. Cant eat meat today. Lenten fish Fridays. What a bummer. Rapidly running out of things to talk about. Mind becomes exhausted. Nothing doing worth nothing. Boos and applauds. Scary. Debbie bradshaw. The most beautiful name in the wide world. Ill never escape her perfection. Theres just something about some people that really hits the marker. Aesthetic beauty if you will. Now Im not much for aesthetics but I do know that some things have it and some things do not. Geez Im tired. No more writing. Fatigued. Badly. Writing again. The blank page haunts me. Yet again. What to do what to do. Hmm.. How to write. How to type. How to get it done. Get it right. Be bright. All the time. Every day. Man. I feel so used up. So empty. So prophetic. So so. Hmm.. What to write. What to say. What to do. What is there. What can I do. What can I be. Who is there. What is there. What is there. Hmmwhat do do. What doody. What duty. No duty. Never duty. Call of duty 4. Big time gaming. What to say. What to write. What is there. Is there anything. I dont know. I dont know much about anything. But what is there. I dont know. What can I say. What is there. What can I do. Is there nothing. Never do well. Never do well. What can I do. Nothing. Nada. nunca. Siempre. What can I do. What is there. What can there be. What is there to be. What can I do. What is there to do. I have no idea. What are the top three things you love: god, sex, money, love, women, wisdom, driving, money, love, et cetera. So I cant figure it out. What is it all about. Must remove face book post. Yet again. Im not a good face booker. I hate face book.

I think Ive got it. Im too excited. Im too thrilled to be writing. I just need to slow down. I need to be more thoughtful of my sentences. Thats for certain. Glad I got that part done with. Nowon to some good stuff. I cannot wait. Bob Greene was the man of his day. What I mean by that is that he had a a good name. Shit I dont know what to say. Ill just say it. Writing again. Back to the page. Back on the road again. Here I am. Up on the stage. There I go. Yay. Happy day. All the time. Too tired. Must retire. Writing again. What a day. Not much to write about. Surely, Ill find something. Writing comes natural. Au naturale. Stuff like this and that. Theres a craft to this. I just have to obey. Obey the rules of art. Stuff like this and that. All the time. Listening to death cab. Big time fan now. All the time. Smoked a joint with mike robey and joe fowler. What a day we live in. loving that dope. Loving that weed. Loving the whole experience. Loving the whole time of it all. Loving the way it is. Wanting more of the same. Knew Id find something eventually. Maybe Ive found my niche at cozy corner. Probably not. Casual bar goer. Big time drinker. Nah. Expensive habit. Cant afford the bars. Cant afford the beer. Nothing less and nothing more. Simply this and nothing more. Pause. Constrain. Restrain. Restroom. Restaurant. So on and so forth. Want to go back to school but dont. too many bad experiences. Homework. Studying. People. Bad news bears. Just a bad time to be me. Would rather write. Might have to do just that. Just stay home and write. If only. If I could just get on with my life. If only things were made a certain way. If only I could go home once and for all. So what. Who knows. Whats it all about anyway. Man, I would smoke weed everyday if I could get away with it. But I cant. money just wont allow. Nor will connections. Narwhale. What a whale. A big whopper. The big whopper. From burger kings value meals. The born again april fool. What a way to introduce a man. What a day we live in. what a way Im in. cant get over some things about my life. Cant get over how the world works. Its so mult-faceted. The world is indeed flat. just walk on foot and youll see. Nah. Its round. Just kidding. Without the roundness of the world then things would be tragic. How could you imagine and believe in a flat world. Who knows. There could be a problem with writing like this. There is a belief that if you spend a lot of time doing one thing then eventually you become skilled or good in that one thing. Theres probably a belief out there that disproves the whole thing. Just like Copernicus told Ptolemy. Just like life told osbourne. Hah. If only I could make my name worth a million dollars. Or equivalent to gold. Something like that. Wish I could smoke more dope. Gives a great feeling of peace. Lovely feeling. Love the feeling. Have to rejoice about it. Its that damn good. All the time kind of good. Man. What a life. I fell in love with my friends this weekend. Its weird but distance makes the heart grow fonder. every time. Wish I could have a new computer. Oh well. Need to do more work. Needs more work. Always needs more work. Love the way my life is headed. If only I could write better. All the time kind of work. All the time kind of writing. Forever and ever. Somewhat like this and that. But not quite. Very much different than this and that. Damn. I love how the love plays out. St. rose is my church. I love it there. Big time love for st. rose. Its just a big church and everybody goes and you can always find someone that looks good. I like good-looking people. Im glad theyre here. Ill be a good looking person one day. Theyll see. Ill make it to the top. I know I will. I know I can. I think I can. I hope I can. I will only know that I can until it actually happens. Stuff like this and that. So many idioms. So many little touches of salt and pepper here and there. So much going on with life. So much wrong with the world. So much corruption and crime in the streets. Or just simply the world. I dont know. I want a university education so bad but Im not willing to do what it takes to get there. No sir ree bob. Education is just too much. I cant handle the pressure. Ill never be able to handle myself in real society. Life is just too effed up. Ill never have it made. Ill never figure it out. Wish I were back in iowa city. Loved it there. So lonely though. But it was awesome. So much potential. So much worth. But getting into that writers workshop is key. Out of 1200 applicants, 26 were selected. Thats pretty slim chances. Thats just tough is what it is. Old tim bob. Hes my new character. Eyes squinty. Almost closed. Big time

trouble-maker. Who couldve ever seen him. Who couldve ever known. Man. Depression always settles in this time of day. Nothing to do about it. Theres got to be a trick to all this writing. To make it good. To making it better. To have it speak profoundly to the reader. To have the reader immensely entertained. To do something like that. How to do it? Ill never know. Ill figure it out. Someway. Somehow. Someday. Whenever. Wherever. All the time. Forever. But they always told me that forever was an awfully long time. So even in the purely positive theres a negative sentiment. Purely positive. Like sunshine. Hah! Who knows. Just too many bad experiences from school. Ill never figure out the best way to go. Or why I want to go. I mean I want it but then again, how can I do it? Is there anything that I want more. Yes. I want to stay home and write. Thats all there is to it. Its easier and I can do it. Writing is my forte. I just love it. Creating words is my passion. Sentences. Their something else. I think Ill work on that today. The perfect sentence. The ballerina floats no twitters. No teeters. By effortlessly on the ground floor. The ballerina twits and tweets by on the floor. Effortlessly. No. its more like the pink mirage scrambles up and down the floor for momentum and fame. No its more like the ballerina is a spiral that knows no escape from the insane asylum that is her stage. She must dance. That is her forte. No. no. its the pink clad woman scurries and gracefully enchants the audience with her poise and style. No. no. its the insane asylum woman floats effortlessly across the floor with a kick and a push from her well trimmed calf muscles and beautiful physique. Hmmthis can only go so far. Im hungry. Hungry for food. Not for wealth or health or fame. Just food. Fiber one. Gotta get my fiber in. all the time they say. Drink my 6-8 8 oz. glasses of water. That one is impossible. All the time type shit. How to do. Ill have no clue. Im more of a rhymer and lyricist. Maybe I can focus on the emotion of the sentence. The emotion. The dreariness. The doom. The cheerfulness. The awesomeness. The lightheartedness. Writing needs a focus. Needs a style to blend in with all the other styles. Who knows. Im way in over my head now. Scurries back and forth. Explodes leprechauns like a sorcerer. Lost his stone in his kidney. Ate kidney pie. Lost his spleen. Had pancreatic cancer. Gave a lecture and told everyone that he was healthier than they. Performed at the Boston Globe theater in James Mensus. James Mensus was the most profound theatre of the time. Exploded leprechauns all the time. Emotion of the sentence. Hippity hop type shit. Big fluffy emotions. Big boisterous loud heartaches. All the time poetics. The bus stops. The brakes squeal. The heart aches. She had just had a one night stand and he left before she woke up. Brakesquealing heart breaking. Jesus this is ugly. Emotions are not my forte. Industry. Industriousness. Virtues. Plato. Nichomachean ethics. Sophomore year was hard. Always will be. No matter what. Just a plain stubborn subject. Philosophy is damn near impossible to understand on ones own. What a bunch of bullocks. Period. Now. For the highest quality sentence one must focus on structure. And that is by looking deep into the meaning of the cause of the sentence. Looking the sentence at its depth and calling it out. Forever and ever. Just like a country music song. I have no idea. Maybe Ill focus on the paragraph. The paragraph must have a beginning middle and an end. An introduction, a body, and a close. You cant just jibber jabber like I do. Theres a storm brewing in my head and its called hatred for dad. I really do hate my father. Every word he utters is just bad news. I hate him for who he is. Forever and always. Big whoop though. God I hate my dad. And I hate saying dad because it makes him sound dead. Just a big conundrum. See this jibber jabber? You cant write paragraphs like this. You have to hate the father and kill the mother. Jesus christ. Just the hatred that flows in and out of this household. Big time trouble. Itll never be resolved. Dysfunctional family used to be the gist of it but now its a completely disabled family. Jesus christ. What a bad day. What a hatred filled household. I hate my father. I hate him so much. A lot. I just hate him. I hate him like Christmas. Always there but goldsmith damn auto correct. Always there but not worth a lick. Oh well. He gone now. Me talk pretty one day. Ha. Need to read that book. Listening to iron and wine. Good song. Bad time. Big time. Man. Writing. Living the dream. How bout that stuff. Just looks good on paper doesnt it? Probably so. Who knows. Ill never figure this stuff out. Never in a million years. Who the hell. How the hell. What the hell. Typing too fast. Nothing to write though. Didnt mean all that stuff about my father. I guess not. Anyway. Who knows. Ill never know what Im talking about. Writing is not that much fun right now. Write and right are so conflated. Man. What a day. What a time. Im just no good at writing. I just know it. Im tired of writing. Would rather read. Need more reading material. For some reason. Reading the souls fuel.

Somehow. Not sure how. Ding dongs and lollipops. Popsicles. Childhood candies. Candy freak by steve almond. Some things in life just arent that good. Who knows. Ill never figure out shit. Never in a million. Who knows though. What is there for anymore. To write. Nothing to write about. Nothing to sing about. Nothing to do. Im a do the things I want to do. Damn. What a day. But paragraphs. Yeah theyre too hard. So is the sentence. Maybe its the word. Maybe Ill just work with the word some more. Stick with my strengths. Maybe all is fine. Maybe itll all get better. Maybe one day things will be okay. Doubt it. I really do. Takes time to do things well. Takes time. Damn. Nothing to write about. Just a big glob of nothing. Hatred. Fearsome. Big time. Bad time. All the time. Writing like a nympho. For sure. My white boy. My white boy. Cant say my nigga. Wish I could my nigga. But no. Im in no place to try and establish the calling of black people as niggas. Thats just not my place to stand. Already lost that battle. Fought that war. Lost it all. Always going to lose. Losing is a habit. Get like me. Man. I was rejected by someone that couldve helped. But no. no help. No love. Nothing. Hatred of love. Love of hatred. Hatred is the enemy. Love is the friend. No matter how much it hurts. Need to hookup with ellen. No way in hell is there a way. Just so messed up. Just very weird. Very frightening. I could never find the words to say to tell her what I want or what I need. Ive tried but to no avail. Just nothing happened there. Id say we dated for about a week and that was all. But then again it was only taking her to school. But there was Europe. And there was mexico. There was jimmy osbourne trying his damndest but what do you say? Ill never get her. Shes the uncatchable fish. Damn. Just wild things going on. Just a bad time. What in the hell. What is going on. What in the world. Can there be anything wrong with me? There has to be something wrong with something. Some things are just too different to be comprehended. I hate when one persons interests are in direct opposition with anothers. too irritating. Too wild. Too harsh. How do people adjust to the way things are? Love this song. Made me fall in love with Debbie again. A gift from me to her. Big time love. Ill never understand love. I love love but then again what is there. What can there be. What is there to be. I could never get her. I could never have her. I could never do what it is that I want to do. What is there for me. Its frustrating. I loved her. She loved back. It was interesting. How bout some dem apples. But now shes getting married. Wild as shit. Crappy as hell. Hope I get some affair action with her. Something like this or that. Who knows. What else is there. What can there be. All alone today. Until 4:30. So about an hour and a half. Big whoop. If we were meant to be with anyone then it would happen. I dont believe this. You have to make it happen. Possibly even face rejection. But if you love her enough then you can make it happen. But if you dont then things will certainly be a bit tragic. Poor me. Poor you. Poor everyone. Poor poo. Pity pop. Pity poo. Pity me pity you. Man. How Ill never want to write like this again. Thats all Ive got. I cant give anymore. Except I need to write for 24 straight hours. I dont see how that could happen. Listening to glee. Big time awesome. Except theres a gay guy on the cast. What the hell. Dont know if I can type for 24 hours. Thats a lot. Much more than Im prepared to handle. Theres just no way. Theres just no way . No way in hell. Rain man. Big time. All the time. Party time. All the time. Forever and ever amen. typing really fast. Cuz typing really fast is the way to go. Love the type. Especially fast typing. Fast typing is the way to go. All the time. All the way. Big time. All the time all the way. Whoever said that things werent easy was indeed wrong. Wrong indeed. Big time stuff. Still. Who am I. what was I born to be? What am I to become? Who am I? I am no one. Are you no one, too? Man. How it all works out just boggles my mind. All the time type boggling. All the time just unknown stuff. Forget you. Big time. Whatever the hell. What is there. What am I to do. What can there be. What is there to do. What is there to be. What can there be. What is there to become. What can I do. What is there to do. What is there to become. To write. The sentence. Thats the way to go. Yeah right. Good sentences. All the time. Forever and ever.

Just writing for the heck of it. Again. Write write write. Hate the write. Love the write. Stuff like that. Writey write write. Big time writer. Small time writer. All time writer. In between writer. All the time type writer. Getty-up type writer. Nah. Not that kind of writer. Listening to the whine of death cabs singer again. Who cares. Wish I could smoke some more dope. Drink some more beer. Cant wait for the day when I can finally live life the way I want to. It might take some time but thats perfectly fine. Id love it. Ill love it. Ill always love these things. These things are where its at. All the time type stuff. All the time all up in it. Let em see ya spin it. Money though. We always need money. Ill never have any money. Money aint for me. Aint for nobody. Im poor. Might as well be. Poor as marbles. Poor as dick. Just poor as it gets. All the time type shit. Just poverty. Extreme conditions. All the time type shit. Just as poor as they come. But they provide for me. I guess. But I want to be a self-made man. All the time. Not just a little self-made. A lot of self-made. But what is there after that. Whats going to happen. Who is there to blame. What is the dealio milio? Who knows. Jake knows. Jake always knows. Just ask jake. Hell tell ya. Jesus plumb fairy. With sugar sprinkles on top. Man. Need to brush my teeth. Hate brushing my teeth. Its such a fucking chore. Fuck. Hate saying the word fuck. Hate it all. God just send it all to the slammer. Slammin sammy sosa. Big time slammin. Slammin sammy. Took them steroids. Big time. All the time. Free bonds. Let bonds go. Geez. Even home run kings gotta face trouble. Theyre only making an example out of these people. I say, you break the rules and youll be fine. But what am I to say. I mean, who am I to say. Something like that. Big time business. Time is money. Money is time. Timeo and monetary things are of different values. Timeo. That probably means fear in Spanish. Not time. Time is tiempo. Big difference. Hated Spanish. Hate public speaking. Hate bad things all the time. Hatred is all the time. Hatred is now. Big bad things are forever. Theyll haunt us until we defeat them or until they defeat us. But what else is new. Who knows. News is bad. Always something bad going on. Makes you not want to go outside. Eventually makes you want to migrate. Id migrate somewhere eventually. Ill move out. Ill move on. Ill get a job. Get a life. Get something worth anything. This Kentucky shit just isnt worth anything. Never was. Never will be. Not worth iowa. Iowa was worth more. Iowa was worth gold. I like iowa. Kentucky is good for what? Nothing. I hate it. Hate the whole stinking government. Its all just a big bunch of hypocrisy these days. Nobody gets any of the wealth. Terrible times. Just terrible. I hate it all. Just fear the lord and hell get you the things ya need. Just fear the lord. But how do we fear the lord. God fearing is completely opposite to god loving. God loving is something more of poverty. I dont see how those god lovers fare in society. Loving god is just wild and ambiguous. God fearing is rewarding. If you fear god youre on the right side of things I believe. Im not sure though. Some of this music really irritates the snot out of me. But its pretty good. Who knows. Am I worth anything? Who knows. Is it all worth anything? Will it ever be worthy of anything. Is there any worth to any of it. Probably not. Its all just a big expensive excursion isnt it. What are we supposed to do for every new child born? How is it all supposed to add up? What about us child abused kids? What about us drug abused. What about us with the lower than higher education educated parents? What if my parents just dont care for higher education. Jesus palooza. Man. Cant believe I still want higher education. I do though. I know I can get it. Eventually. It just takes time. Somehow. Life is going to shape up eventually. It will get better. It has to. Once you hit rock bottom then the bottom wears thin and eventually you fall out and start anew. Yes sirry bob. Geesus louisus. How it all just sucks the living day lights out of ya. How unfortunate my post-high school life has been. How drab. How ugly. How inconvenient. I hate my life. Itll never add up to much. I hate this life. Not enough opportunity. Not enough good times. Not enough free living. Not enough of the good stuff. Not enough life. Not enough money. Not enough of the wrong thing. Not enough of the right thing. Its all just one big shambles. God I hate how it all is. Its so bad. Its so wrong. Its just not even worth a pint of sweat or tears or anything. Its just a matter of bad news is all it is. I mean I seriously want to move. I hate america. Im on the verge of love it or leave it. Going with the latter. Hate how people like the phrase love it or leave it. Hate how people can make it in this world and while others cannot. Just stinks up my whole life procedure. Jesus christ. Ill never get it my way at this rate. Ill never have it my way. Never in a million years. It just sucks this way. Its so bad I could sink my teeth into it. Thats how bad it is. It actually has substance. An edible substance. And it tastes like rancid meat. rotten cow arse that just wont stop stinking. Thats how bad it is. Nobody offers me a job. Not one. No person. Its all just a matter of how ya going to do it. How ya going to be worth a dime or a nickel or anything thats worth anything. Its such a fucked up mess out there. Ill never return to it. Ill never get it out of my system. Ill never want it. Jesus christ. How its all so very

plentiful. Yet costs ya money. The one thing Ill never have enough of. Money. Maybe one day Ill have enough money but it certainly isnt today. Not while Im young and wild and free. However that works out Ill never know. Ill never figure out this crazy little thing called life. Im disciplined as shit in making this book but it doesnt have any money for me yet. I just hate it. Its not worth anything. Its all so ridiculous. God how I hate it all. Its all so rancid. So bad. So worthless. I mean I cant own a damn thing. I cant sell a damn thing I cant work for anything. I mean what the hell. How the hell have I been able to work for all these years. Its uncanny how Ive been able to just stick with it. Its just uncanny. Its not even valuable. All the skills Ive learned have just been worthless. I cant apply 2 plus 2 equals four. I cant apply anything. I can apply some things but thats about it. But still, I feel like I just wont ever be able to make it in the academic stage. Its just too high up there. I just dont know how Ill be able to make it. Its just wild and crazy. Wild and free. Its just unanswerable. Crazy as shit. I hate it all. Its so confusing. So conflated. Hatred for the world. Hatred for all. Alphonse lyvers has crept into my skin somehow. Someway. Who knows. Ill never figure this shit out. Its all so devastating. Damn. Nothing. Nada. just a big pot of boiling lava. Just a big mess of humorless sagacious travesty. Something like that. Ill never understand. Ill never get it right. Hate my father. Hes the biggest jerk off of them all. Who knows. Whos ever going to figure out how all this went down. Horrible how it all is. Its just dishonorable. Not a lick of honour left in it. Not a bit of it. Not a bit of anything. Nothing good nothing going. Just a bunch of hatred in this world. Just a bunch of evil. I mean it. Nothing going good. Have to listen to my fathers voice. Which is the worst sound in the world. Wish I could beat him back. Its just not fair. He broke the rules and beat me with his belt. in the bible its unlawful for the child to raise even a finger towards his father. What the hell. That makes no sense. Especially since he started it. But thats about all there is to it. I mean what the hell. How is this worth anything. How can anything come out of anything. Jeeesus. Meanwhile, back in Arizonashit. Sounds better than Kentucky. Anything sounds better than america. Weve officially become this nation of bad intentions. I hate it. You could almost feel the tide shift when you felt like committing criminal actions. I mean what the hell is that all about. Ill never know. Ill never figure this shit out. Its all just a big conundrum. A bunch of hulu. Hoodoo too. Man. Just a big set of laws that arent worth their salt or gravy. What a big nuisance it all is. Unstable. Instability. My biggest obstacle when I was young was the money. And he says his was instability. That makes no sense at all. The money will come my ass. Still hasnt come. Never will come. Never will. It might. I feel it. Its in there somewhere. Sometimes you can actually feel gods will. His intentions. Sometimes. Sometimes not. Its all just a matter of who you are as a person. Stuff like that. Hatred and misery. Misery and torment. Evil and science. Crackpots. Jesus louise. Man. Thats about all I can write. Wasnt worth much but there ya go. Another offering. Shit. Writing again. Gone going gone everything gone give a damn. Gone everything. So on and et cetera. Who cares right? Who knows. Who really gives a damn. Who can tell anyone the truth about anything? Who can get it all right these days? Who can really know? Is there anything to really know? Is there something thats so unanswerable that it takes a mission to mars to figure out? Is there something so incredible that it takes a day just to unravel? Probably so. Who knows. Cats and kittens. Thats the answer. Dogs and puppies. People and children. Right? Ha. Parents and infants. Ill never know. Isnt that the way. Who knows. We seem to know more about ourselves than anyone else. isnt that the fact of the matter. Who knows. I dont know. Do you know? Can you know? Are you even there? Mr. reader? Are you really reading? Are you reading as hard as you could? Probably not. Probably so. Who knows? Ill never figure this stuff out. Its all so familiar. Familiar grounds tend to demature. Immaturity is a plague. How I hate my life. How I hate everything about everything. Its all so gratifying. I guess. Ill never figure out whatever the hell else is going on. Who knows. Ill never figure it out. Maybe I will someday. May take a while. Maybe not. Maybe yes, maybe no. who knows. Who will ever know. Is the answer in the stars? In the moon and the sky? Will it ever be there for us to print? Is there anything left for me and you? Mr. reader? Who knows. What the hell. What a disgrace Ive become. Eat less and exercise. Thats the way to losing weight. All the time type stuff.

All the time. Forever and ever amen. nah. Not that long. I think my abilities to tell time are way off. I think life is more about the minutes and hours than anything. Seconds and days have no effect. Except when youre in college. Then they might serve as some vague bad news for the bear. Ol buddy bear. Thats what I call my dog sometimes. Ol buddy bear. Writing is the disease. Its the plague. Its the one thing that keeps me going. Gone going. All the time type stuff. Forever and ever. Or never. Just depends. Maybe its right this minute. Who knows. Ill never know. At least I should know. The existence of it all. Its all so transcendental isnt it? I dont know. Its all so weird and quaint. Its all so very mysterious. I hate the mystery. It has to be better than this. It has to produce more love than this. It always has to be better than what we could ever expect. Always has to do better than the extraordinary. Always better. Until the better is best? No! we must place good, better, and best in their respective positions. Stuff like that. Man. Milking cows. Who could ever milk a cow. Ill never know. Ill never figure out a way. Ill never get it right. Someday. Somehow. Someway. Who knows. Its all just a matter of being serious and not being serious. Who knows. Trying to contact simon & Schuster but who knows. I dont even know if I have a book up for grabs yet. I dont know. Books are tricky things. Books are icky sticky things. Stuff like this and that. Who knows. My message is boring anyway. Ill never get anything through to anybody. Man. Damn. Man damn. Dammit man. Who knows. Can I get a Klondike? Who knows. Will there be an apocalypse. Who knows. What is there to do. What can I do? Scooby-do? Scooby-dont. who knows. Will there be any change for an old man? Will there be anything for anyone? Is there anything for anyone? Can I get some medication? For what? For no reason. Go to California and get some medicinal dope. Yeah, I wish. That seems like a mischievous plan. Hatred for self. Self-loathing. Fear and loathing in where? Las vegas. Big time good book. That bitch never gave it back to me. Dammit. I hate this life. I hate that fact. Whatever else there is Ill never know. Nor understand. Nor comprehend. Forever and ever amen. vagabonds. That travel without seatbelts on. What the hell. Writing is not in my game today. Totally not fitting it in. its too spiritual. Big time badness. I just dont know. Someones reading my writing today. Yay for me. Got one person to read this shit. Subconscious desire bitches. Hell yeah. Interested in what he will say. Probably not much. Probably not what I want him to say like go get it published or something. Ive yet to master the thought to the page process. Stuff like that. Ill figure it out. Ill be able to master my thoughts on the page before you know it. Probably takes about five years but there ya go. Hell yeah. All the time type stuff. Man. If only I could get my life turned around the right way. Yeah right. If only. If only I could. If only my life were turned upside down. Right side up. Hah. And I made yall love it. Wale. Big time rappin shit. Man. Need to brush my teeth. Clean my room, play some ball. Get some gas. Workout. Get a tan. Mow the yard. Take a shower. Take a shit. Pee. Write. Publish. Manage social networking skills. Play some video game basketball. Write some more. Read. Stuff like this and that. All the time type shit. Stuff like that. Put my contacts in. make small talk. Go for a drive. Talk to Debbie. Talk to anyone really. Always love a good conversation. Watch some telly. Start a war. Be an emperor. Lead an army. Move up the ranks. Publish a bestseller. Write another book about publishing a bestseller. So on and so forth. Stuff like this and that. With repetitions and everything. Cause you always need repetition. Forever and always. Alackaday. Who knows. Ill never figure this stuff out. Forever and ever. No amen. not ever an amen. those amens are sacred. You cant have them. Geez writing is a lot of hard work. Its hard to just spill something on the page like this. Writing though. How beautiful thou art. Forever and ever. Amen. maybe its not all about the beauty. Maybe its more about tragedy. Maybe it takes years and years of experience. Who knows. Ill never get this stuff right. Its never going to be worth a damn. Never in a million years. Who knows. How the hell will it ever get a million views or whatever. I want a beach. I want to own my own beach. Ill never be able to though. Well maybe. Make a million dollars. All at once? How so? Making a million dollars is nothing. You have to do it all at once. Who all is good for that? Not everyone. Thats for certain. Stuff like this and that. Who knows. How will this all add up to anything in the end. I have no clue. Is it even worth trying anymore? Is there anything left for us? Is there anything left for me? Probably not. Jesus christ. How it all just turns out. How it all just hates on me. Forever and ever. How it all just takes the form of ruins and

shambles. Big giant anti-christs walking around destroying everything. Flaming swords and blonde haired demons. Gardens of edens everywhere. Except youre on the other side. Take me on the other side. No thanks. Man how I wish I could row down that Mississippi. Shew wee bob. How I wish I could just drive and drive and drive. How I wish I wish I wish. How I just want and want and want. How I would if I could. How it never really works out. How I wish things could get better. How things could just happen for a million dollars if they wanted. How my life just smells like stankonia. Stankonia. Ha. Outkast is everlasting. Not at all. Man. How it all just ends up being false hopes. Bad expectations. Pride. Foolish hopes and foolish pride. Ill never figure out Christianity. Its all just a matter of who did what when and why. For whatever reason. Forever and ever. Amen? I dont know. They should edit out all the good parts of this book. For seriously. Who knows. Ill never know. Ill never figure it out. Itll all be okay in a matter of minutes. Everything will be for everyone and nonsense will prevail. Yet again. For some reason. Forever and ever again. Man who knows. It all works out in the end. Yeah right. Ill never believe that. You have to force it. You have to will it. It all happens for a reason? Dont believe that one either. Theres no reason. Just force. Just wills and thrills. What reason. No reason. Just plain savagery. All the time type shit. Just bad news bears all the time. Forever. If I could only comprehend forever. Nah. Never happen. Comprehending forever is too long to comprehend. Well never make it that long. Who knows. It could happen. Jesus christ. Whats it all worth. Its not worth much I tell ya. Its all just a matter of hooray versus hoorah. Probably. Who knows. But will it ever happen? Can I get anything? Can I give anything? Is there anyway I can help out? Probably so. But nobody is around to have it arranged or managed. Which is a good thing because nobody wants a boss. Nobody wants someone telling them what to do who wont do the same thing. Stuff like this and that. Who knows. Who really gives a damn. I know I dont. I just cant write clearly. Im so flustered. Biological needs have to be met. Someway. Somehow. Theyre too impossible. I hate it. Theyre continuous. Nobody and fulfill those kinds of needs. Nobody. Not never. Not ever. Stuff like this and that. Not never. Man. Wish I could just get it write. Not never though. Not ever. Cant write worth a lick. Licking isnt worth a write. Just not in the mood. Cant do it. Wont do it. Cant become it. Wont overcome it. Writers block has stricken. Just cant write for anyone or anything. Just cant do it. Its just not happening. Its just something of a conundrum. Big time hard tack. Fat tack brass tacks. Big mac side shack. Love shack hate track. Ugh. No more writing. Im done for now. No more writing. You cant make me. You cant make me write. Aargh! Im a mother fucking monster! Haha. Thank you kanye and jay-z. not to mention nicki minaj. Har dee har har. Geezuz christ. Im over. Its done. Thats my three pages for the day. Ugh. Writing again for petes sake. Nothing to write about. I mean seriously, what am I supposed to write about. This is me, the main character, writing and I really have nothing to write about. Blah blah blah. Damn. Nothing to write about. Isnt that a drab. An arab. A-rab. Like a rabbit. Hippity hop. Down the trail. Hippity hop. Man. What the hell. Can I type for the life of me? Is there anything to type about? Can I go without saying forever and ever amen? probably not. Oh well. But still, there has to be something that Im missing out on. There has to be something worth writing about. Over and over again. For the nick of saint Petersburg. What a name for a town. St. Petersburg. Ugly name. wish I were still in iowa city. Best place on the face of the earth. every time. All the time. All up in it. Let em see yanah. I hate that stuff. Wish I couldve lived without knowing about that one. Oh well. What else is there. I mean really. What is there to do. What is there to say. What can I be. What is there to be. Can I be a clown? Can I work at the clown factory? Is there peace at the clown factory? I think I saddened my father today. Good. He deserves it. I think. I guess. Im not sure. Who knows. Do I really know anything about anything? Probably not. Who knows. Man. Typing sucks. Its just not worth it. Its not even worth my salt anymore. Doubt Ill get enough financial aid. Big time sucks. Have to wait another few months before anything good happens. I mean what

the hell. How did this happen to me. Who knows. Ill never figure out the recipe for a good life. Ill never have the secret ingredient. Blah blah blah. Im hungry. Yet again. I hate being hungry. Takes up too much time. Jesus christ. David moresh. What a name. moresh. What the hell. If only I could stop to think while Im writing. But no. stream of consciousness all the way. I think Ive been spelling conscious very wrong for a very long time. Conscious. Something like that. Without the s and what not. Damn. Feel sick almost. Writing is such a hobby of mine. Love to write. Write write write. What a life. Love love love. Har de har har. Man. Writing is not for me. Theres just nothing left for me to do. No jobs. No opportunities. Nothing. I hate writing. Im not even good at it. Writing to me is like a beautiful melody. It never ends and it keeps playing beautiful music. Love love love. Theres nothing you can sing that cant be sung. Nothing, blah blah blah. Typing is too hard. Too tired to concentrate. Why even bother. Ill never sell this stuff. Its just not good enough. Its never quite good enough. Itll never work out. Ill never figure out how itll work out. Who knows. It might work out. Theres always that slim chance. One in a million type stuff. So who knows. Who will ever know. Ill never find out. Ill never figure it out. Ill never want to return. Ill never succeed at college. Its just not me. Its not for me. Its not even cool anymore. What the hell. Ill never figure these things out. Listening to red hot chili peppers. Greatest band of the modern era. For sure. I guess. Could be wrong. Damn. Nothing to contemplate. Nothing to do. Nothing to think about. Nothing to do. Just plain scribble scrabble. Nothing. Nada. hypnosis. Hypnotics. Ugly stuff. All the time colliding with stupidity. Just plain old simple shit. God I love god. God I hate my generation. Things just dont work out. Things fall apart. Man. It used to be so simple. Now its so difficult. Its just not even fair out there in the real world. Oh well. Who knows. Will I ever figure it out. Probably not. Ill probably die a drunkard. Like my daddy before me. And his daddy before him. Jesus christ. What nonsense Ive fallen into. Down the rabbit hole and into the land of oz. were off to see the wizard. Just take a right at candy land with the killer bumble bees and the poisonous mushrooms. Geez louise. What fictional nightmare have I created this time. What shall become of me? Shall I become a beacon? Ha! Yeah right. But still. Got to become something. Life is too nightmarish for this type shit. Ill never make it like this. I did well in school. I thought this was an indication of life. Guess not. Oh well. What to do what to do. Who to become. What to foresee. Ha. If only I could foresee. Foresight is something of awell, its just hard to foresee anything for me. Everyones always threatening to kill me. Its like the genocides of sudan over here. Its just impossible to live in peace. Somebodys always threatening to kill me. I hate it. Im out. And now Im back in. jeez louise. Nothing to do. Nothing to say. Just another ordinary day. Ha. Man. Wish I could do something that is better than ordinary. Ordinary is a curse. Ordinary is what people dont want. People never want ordinary. They want extraordinary. Something like that. I know I want a better lifestyle. But I dont guess it matters what I want. Ill never get what I want. Ever. Thats just the way it is. Maybe one day. But not today. Not never. Thats just the way it is. Things will never be the same. Thats just the way it is. Ah yeah. Man. Too tired. Too awake. Too careless. Too careful. Not caring enough. Just doesnt matter. Just dont want anything to happen. What can there be? Can there be a high society? Can there be anything worth appreciation? Nah. There can never be anything. Anything aint worth anything. Nothing aint worth something. Something aint worth anything. Whether it is or it aint, it just dont matter around here no more. Never more quoth the raven. Never more. What a song I listen to. She looks to me by the red hot chili peppers. Hellz yeah. But still, theres got to be something going on in my life that is worth contributing to the damn page. Probably not right? Ha. What the hell. Whatever else there is to do Ill never figure out. What ever. I guess. Ill never figure anything out. Pooh pooh buddin boo. Jesus christ Ive never heard of anyone more apathetic. Apathy is a problem. Big time problem. Like these problems. Gives me something to do I guess. Ill never know. Who really knows anything about anyone these days. I dont know. I just wish I lived in danI California. Better see ya later. What the hell else can I say? Its never worth anything. Never in a million years. Never ever. Bitch trick.

Shit. Its over. Finally. The end. Of all writing. Starts now. Ill never write anymore after about a million pages. Shit. If I can get a million pages then Ill puke on somebody. What the hell. Writing again. For the sake of writing. Again. Hellz yeah. Now if I could only find something to write about. Its just too hard. She cant take no more captain, she cant take no more! But who cares right? Shit who knows. If only I could fly to outer space and get this shit right. Go hard. Shit if I know. I like to listen to rap music. I guess. Some of it gets weird but there ya go. Man I wish I could see my friends again. Stupid how it all is. Silly heads. Man. If only I could get it just right. Like nail the hammer on the head. I mean hit the nail on the head. Pertaining to writing. Shit. Lovely dovely all the time. If only I could write eloquently. If only I could write with style. Prose. And such. The whatnot. I mean it. Writing like this just doesnt work for the audience. I mean, what the hell is it all about anyway? Can I get away with anything? Can I make it work? Is it all about anything anymore? Who knows. I know I dont have anything to do with it. I know its never any good anymore. But for real. Thats just whats its all about. For real though. I mean, like I know. I dont know much. Never knew too much. Never will know too much. Never could know much. Not never. Never could. Never would. All the time type shit. Forever and dever amen. last name dever. First name forever. Forever dever. Shit. I wish. That would be a pimp ass name. big time. All the time. Stuff like this and that. Who knows. I mean what the hell is going on. Ill never know. Ill never figure this shit out. Writing is my nemesis. Ill never defeat it. Sounds like a bad day for all of us. All the time bad day. All the time bad shit. Just wild things going on. All the time wild things. Who knows. Why does anything happen? Why doesnt it all just go away? I wont miss it. Shit. Ate me some salmon patties this morning. Tasted real nice. With cocktail sauce. Mm mmm! Man. Need to figure out a style. Need to figure out a way to get this typing shit under wraps. Needs a story. Im not a storyteller. Im a journalist. I do journals. I make copies. I do this. This is what I do. Cant nobody take this away from me. Nobody ever will. I may tempt them but they wont. I dont know why I would tempt them. Shit. Who knows. Ill never figure this shit out. Gotta speak from the heart. Not the brain. Not the voice box. But the heart. Or the fingertips rather. Big time weird. This song is something different. I hate it. Ill never like it. Definitely doesnt mix well with the rain. Nothing mixes well with the rain. Who knows. Man Ill never forget that time when I got lost at thunder over Louisville. Met a crackhead. Couldve smoked crack with him. Couldve gotten shot. Couldve been killed. Saw myself in the mirror and thanked god that they didnt. cuz you know all drug people carry heat. For some reason or anything. Whether to rob a store or just for protection. Plus it was inner city. I just dont get why these African Americans like to rap. Its the weirdest habit of them all. Its not even art anymore. Its just rambles and gambles. Rants and rhymes. Much like what I do. And I need to get a clue. Stop listening to that rap shit. Forever and ever amen for some reason. Idiosyncrasies. Ill never understand why I write the way I write. Gotta start somewhere. Gotta make it happen someway. Geez louise. How the hell does anything get right. How the hell can I get anything right anymore. Is there any religion left. Do we follow anything. Is it all just a big shambles for everyone. Who knows. What to really do. What to do. Period. What can I do. What is there to do. I have no clue. Burn the house down. Yeah right. That would be something. Less and less is done. Tao te ching. Man this writing thing just doesnt come easy. Gotta actually have something to say. And I dont. never did never will. If these things dont make sense then just tell me. I guess. I dont know. Miss my cheech and chong days. Big time missing out. Missing the dope and smoke. Missing the hippies and the ways of the dead. Hated life. Stayed off drugs and bad things have happen. Stayed on drugs and good things happened. What else is there? What can I make money off of? Nothing. I can make money off of nothing. Yeah right. I wish. Man my writing is so drab. Never will I ever get the feeling of greatness back again. I remember when I was great. Things were awesome. Now theyre not. Theyre just plain and boring. Nothing special about anything anymore. Just plain old literate shit. Hatred for all things made. Hatred for all things possible. Man Michael buble. Haha. Buble. Somewhere over the rainbow. Way up high. Not the original but the

Hawaiian version. Big difference. Man. Too tired. Too tried. Need to come up with some good literary shit. Need to just know what to do. Need to have a hell of a good time by myself. Need to get some things straightened out. Between me and life and god and family and friends and the earth and the heavens and the ground beneath. Heaven and hell await your answer. Muhaha. Man. If only I could write like a pro. Or an expert. I ought to be the expert but Im not. Not in no way shape or form. Just dont spend enough time doing it. Just dont get it all accomplished at once like I used to. Man. I need to get fit. Need to get in shape. Top physical condition. Big time. All the time. Now and forever. Man. Too tired. Too jubilant. Too christian. Wish I were a muslim. Muslims are so much cooler. Islam and Muhammad and the such. Still, he spread the religion by the sword. I guess that was to show that he was serious. They all have problems with being taken seriously. Its called life. Hard to get our points across to everyone all the time. Who knows. Ill never figure this stuff out. Maybe I should take up journalism. Who knows. Ill never figure these things out. These things are just so complicated. So multiplicated. I think. Im not sure. Need a better time with myself. Need some woman loving. If only I could find that one woman where I can just relay my feelings and get her all melty. Swoon her with my thoughts and emotions. If only. Man, though. Life is just too depressing. Not even a good time. Good times are too few and far between. Theres just nothing else in the world that can survive anything anymore. I hate it. Its all so embarrassing. Big time embarrassing. Its all so eloquent. So fancy smancy. Listened to a French song. If only I had done well in French. If only. I mean what the hell. Can anything do well in our society anymore? Is there anything worth doing these days. I doubt it. Can I get away with anything anymore? Probably not. But who cares right? I dont know. Ill never know. Ill never figure it out. Things just get complicated. Really liking the title of that one book: Things Fall Apart. What a day we live in. overcast. Again. Just a bunch of overcast. Hella fied. Weird little things. All the time. Just weird times. Wish I could die. Too healthy. Too young. Heart and lungs are just too operative. But whos to say. Whos to go against anything. Everyone is just so peachy keen on everything these days. Whos to know. Whos to discern. What are the odds. What is going on these days. What are these days. They are numbered yes? They go slow and fashionable and parlay the truth about that which pertains to them in days of old. My days, they come up slow. They do as they told. They fit in the mold. They make clay objects of which are gunned down for sport. But to talk about me is too much. It will never do for the days of yore. My days are numbered yes. Art thoust days numbered too? Mine days be numbered thou. Lest ye be concerned with me. For I am as the plant that gathers moss. A stone if you like, just as good as a house with no door. Licking my tongue inside the fedora. Preparing for the great feast. The money well spent. The host is well spent. The hostess with the mostess. Modesty is key. Modesty holds a rhythm to it. Frustration accompanies. Nothing like frustration. Nothing like money well spent. They say read a lot in accompaniment with writing but I say listen to music. Its just as good. You get the same effect. But reading is hard. Reading is dreadful. Never read for sport. Reading is the worst. Chaos I tell thee. Have I gone mad? Is my life a big insane shambles? Who knows. Who cares. Why is there white water over there? Who knows. Who cares. What else is there. Why cant I travel from here to there. What is it with this society. You can just tell that we havent suffered enough. You can tell that there wont be a messiah to come in the days of tomorrow. You can just tell that its up to us to recreate a day of messiahship. To redeem the world. Yet again. And again and again. Worldly redemption. What a word. What is there to do. To feel. To be adjusted to. What am I to think. To be like. To be for. Who is for me? Who is against me? Are there enemies? Better yetare there friends? Probably not. Neither. Woe be me. Man. Thats all Ive got for the day. Au revoir. To write. Thats the discipline. All the time. Forever and ever. How the hell. Can it be true. Can it be? Is he writing for free? Of course I am. Sam I am. For realz. How else am I supposed to do anything. I mean what the fuck is it. Is it even worth anything? Is there anything left? Probably not. Can I get some liquor? Probably not. Is there anything I can do? Can I get it through to the clues? Can I move it up a notch for a second? Can I get a level headed man of reason down here for a second? Is there another one greater than

I? shall I be great? Probably not. Oh well. Ill just learn to do without. Well always learn to do without. All the time. every time. For ever and always. Who knows. How the hell can I get it right? Is there a way of getting it right? Probably not. But maybe so. Who really knows. Do you know? Do I know? Who really knows. Can we find knowledge from within? Probably not. But who knows. I really dont. is there another greater than me? Probably so. Ill love him anyway. Thats okay. You know how it is. Man. I like this song. Not telling you what it is. Never will I. (on my level - wiz khalifa) all the way type shit. Man though. Whats it all worth. Is it even worth an experimentation. Probably not. But whats it all about. Show goes on lupe fiasco. All right. Such and such. Love and doves. All the time type shit. Geniuses. All the time. Big time all the time. Forsheezy my neezy. Forever and ever amen. but to some extent it does have an end. For real. But maybe it doesnt. maybe it does. Who knows. Whos to say. Who can really say. Who really knows. I dont know. Is there anything left to know. Can I know anything worth knowing? Probably not. Never in a million. Never could I. never would I. could I ever. Will I ever. Will it ever. Could it ever. Hellz yeah. For sheezy my wheezy. Lil wheezy. La wayne. For real. All the time. But what is it really. Can I get any good out of life. Out of my life. Out of anything. Can anything be worth a grain of salt? Is it even worth my salt to tell you anything? Probably not. I mean what the hell was I thinking becoming a writer. Who really knows. I know I dont. what is there for real. For ill. Something like that. Is there anything. Could there be. Will there be. Can there be. Is there anything left for me? Man I just dont know. Writing is a plague. Its a scourge. Its just not well-written. Itll never be well-written. Its just no good. Not even hood enough. Not even good enough. Its really worth nothing. Nothing at all. I can publish this for free and nobody will care for it. Not one bit of it. Oh well. Itll all resolve itself. It always does. Always did. Always had a way of doing it big. Always. every time. Forever and ever amen. forever. I guess so. I mean I dont know. Whos to say. But really, who could ever really say anything about anyone or anything. I mean I dont know. Is there anything left. Could there be some sugar out there for me. Probably not. Man. I need something to rub up against. To just love up on. Something like that. Nothing too serious. Just real rad shit. Something thats worth nothing. Just a lot of that. A lot of somethings worth nothings. complicated shit. All the time type stuff. But who can really tell the difference between truth and lies. I cant. hahahah. All the time. Forever. Never. Sometimes. Always.. Occasionally. Man I wish I had a friend. Or just a woman. About thirty years old. Full-bodied. Forever and ever. Youre supposed to get em in their teens and then work your way up to thirty but damn. Thats a long time to be waiting around a woman like that. Clean shit up a bit. Get things in order. Top priority. Top condition. Yeah right. I mean what the hell. Thoughts are crazy. I mean the whole thought process is completely outside of our control. Were basically controlled by external stimuli. What the hell. How is this relevant? I dont know. I do know that its something more than nothing though. Thats about all I can write for now. Peace. Writing along to the music. Works every time. Somehow writing to the rhythm of the beat helps. Just makes the work go smoother. Better. All the time. Every time. 97% of the time it works. Well what about the other 3%? Dont bother with the other 3%. Thats just to prove theyre not ripping you off. Oh. Well then. Ill just pack up my bags and go. Bye bye. Au revoir. If only I could write dialogue like I used to. But no. I write it like this now. Just with the sentence. No special anythings associated with it. Just plain nothing. Forever and ever. Until tomorrow. For it is a new day. And this day is of old. As night has come to play amongst our minds, our souls, our hearts. For now and forever. Man I feel it in my veins tonight. The writing express is calling my name. choo choo it says. Its ready to come out. Hellz yeah. Except I cant write against certain quality of songs like the scientist by coldplay. Reminds me of the love between hagan and Margaret fields. Big time love. Crazy love. I think I mustve inspired him. Who knows. Ill never figure out these conjunctions and disjunctions. Been studying my symbolic logic again. If only I could figure it out. Its hard as fuck. I just cant understand it. Itll never float well with me. Just like butlers fifteen sermons. I hate reading things that I know will just lead me to

weird and strange places. Stuff like this and that. Its weird I know. But whats a brother to do. Who knows. Will anyone ever figure anything out? I dont know. I think its all up to us to figure out. Forever more. Amen. I amen a lot without actually beginning the prayer. Oh well. It works. In my mind anyway. Everything always works in the mind. It has to. This is the art of creation. All the time. Everyday. Every beautiful fucking day. All the time type shit. Forever more. Never more. Which is it? I dont know. I darest not know. Do you know? Would you know? Its just up to whoever. All the time type stuff. Forever. And ever. Amen. damn you randy travis for sticking a couple of words in my head for nervous situations. Things of this nature. Why do I want to go back to school. Ill just drop out. I wont want to get it done. I wont want it at all. I just wont be able to complete these tasks. I just wont be able to. Theres just no way. Theres just no how. I dont see how Ill be able to complete anything. Its all just a shambles to me anyway. Just a matter of who wants it less, right? Who all wants it less. Ill never have a clue. Its all just a big mystery to me anyway. Its all just a big fucking mystery. Ill never figure it out. Ah, why not. Mind over matter. Get it out of the way. You still have a chance. Knock it down. Bat it down. Get it down. Over and over again. Until you get it right. Get it tight. Talking about the lower sexual reproducing part of the female. Oh dear. Writing creates an ache and a pain because theres just nowhere more comfortable to write than the bed. Big time. I mean what the hell right? Who knows. All this stuff is just tough stuff. All the time forever more will I even know what the hell I was born to do. Ill never know what I was to do. Who knows. Who will ever figure any of this out later on in life? I dont know. Ill never figure out the great mysteries of life. But I might. I mean Ive got a whole lot of doubts but optimism is just another ready card at hand for me if you will. Still. I feel empty inside. Like Ive never really done anything worthwhile in all of the time of my life. Like even skydiving was a waste of time. I consider writing to be that niche. To be where its at. That quiet spot where I can follow my bliss and just flow with the words. every time and all day. Every day. Man I feel good. For some reason unbeknownst to me. Ill never figure out life. Life is just too complicated. Its just too fated. Too much is left up to fate. Who knows. Ill never figure this stuff out. Its just too damn complicated isnt it. Probably so. Even if. Although maybe so. Maybe not. Who knows. Ill never figure shit out. Shit is just too complicated. Too conflicted. I guess. Not really. I think it all blends perfectly together. All the time. Every time. Not even a second to spare. Still. I need an education. I need it on my resume. I need a good job. I need a profession. I need a good biography for my query letter when I write to all those publishers once and for all. Once and for all. Shit. Things are just so damn difficult. Like. Really difficult. All the time difficult. Like Ill never succumb to the wishes of my parents type difficult. Which is, take over the family business. Ill never get that desperate. Its too hard anyway. Ive just no knack for it. Now writing, I love writing. Writing is the stuff that dreams are made of. Writing has hope. Writing breathes air into my lungs. It tells the story of the walls because seriously, something must be talking to me. Its almost certainly these walls. Man. My mood is good. Listening to music solves everything. Just brightens up the day and everything. I recommend it to everyone. All the time. Music 24/7/365. Something like that. But man. How draining writing is. How it just affects you poetically, spiritually, et cetera and so on. Forever and ever. Man. There are just some phrases that I overuse and I cant help that. At least, not yet. Its saddening but very right. Baby its so right. Very right. Goodly right. Better than the best. All the time. Wish I could emulate the songs. Id probably get sued for having written their lyrics down into my own writing. Oh well. Ill do it anyway. Im just wondering. From my hometown. The people Ive met. Actually this song is hard to decipher. Ill just write how I want to. Har har. Man. Remember a time in iowa city when we went to a bar and I was like, yeah, so I know nobody. Things were just too trifling. Its all so difficult. Its all so hard. Ill never understand it. Forever and ever. Ill never get it. Itll never happen to me. Itll never stay put. Ill never get my priorities straightened out. Ill never want to get back to my English major. Ill never find anything worth reading or saying. Itll all just be very profound. Simply this and nothing more. Quoth the raven nevermore. Damn I hate that raven. Weak and weary. Simply tapping at my chamber door. Stuff like that. What a time. I can remember joseph Conrads heart of darkness. What a story. Going down a river on a raft. Checking out the slavery. Checking out the ivory. Just a bad little story about a raft on a river. Ill never understand it. It held me captivated. Big time. I remember telling a friend that I had read it when he mentioned it. Crazy little world we live in. I need an English degree but Im unsure of

how to attain. Its all so frustrating. English. Thats enough isnt it? Who knows. Ill never know. Ill never truly experience the prison they call life. Not enough money. Never enough money. Geez. Even if I had a girlfriend Id never be able to take her out to eat or anything. Im just not worth it. Never worth it. Its all so pitiful. While I, I am very pitiless. Muhaha. Nah. I have pity. Whatever pity is, actually. Just another word. One of those Christian virtues Ill never quite understand. Just like fortitude or prudence. Man. Its all so wonderful in the end. I guarantee it. I swear by it. Youll love your life 20 years from now. Youll have it figured out. Once and for all. But until then, youve just got a lot of time to spend doing something or another. Who knows. Welp, thats all folks. Im retired until next time. Au revoir. Writing again for the sake of writing. Hellz yeah. Love the write. Loving written word. All the time. Lets get this show on. So she was beautiful. Most beautiful. Deadly beautiful. I fell for her. She fell for ugly ass me. Yeah right, right? Shit. Anyway, I fell for her. Loved her. Attraction met its peak. But thats it. Thats all it was. Nothing less and nothing more. Thats all Im good for. Deadly, fatal attraction. Something like that. Always wondering. Always creating. Always doing. Always becoming. Always doing the right thing. Forever and ever amen. who knows. Will it even matter before you know it? Will anything be worth anything in the end? I doubt it. I cant even know for sure. Will I ever know for sure. Probably not. But the emotions are real. Real deal holyfield he always used to say. That is, my best friend brian g. we dont talk much anymore but we prefer it that way. We know we both have to find a mate. Dont know how. Its hard as shit really. And after a while of being friends with someone people assume that there are like homosexual tendencies there. But really, were just really good friends. At least we were. Growing up was tough in some respects. We did lead pretty good lives but independence was a major factor. Impossible to understand it looking back. He did well in college and high school. I only did well in high school. I just dont see how Ill ever finish college. Its just not for me. Too many little things go wrong and awry. Just a bad mix of things really. But here I am. A survivor. Tornado warnings last night. We made it through those. Man. I feel like the richest man in the world today. Just like a million dollars. I guess. Ha. Nothing can stop me right now. Never could I ever. Never will I ever. Still. I feel like a bad habit. Something to be gotten rid of. Need to make a statement at college. Like fuck yall Im here to stay. Im gonna get through this semester whether yall like it or not. But first I gotta take a shower. Big time shower. I mean, really, who knows. Maybe this time is my time. Yet again. Maybe so. Maybe not. I really dont know. I just cant comprehend it. Its all too extravagant. But man. Typing for a living. Im so in love with it. It wont leave. Its always there. Itll always be there to relax. To soothe. To comfort. But comfort is for the lower man. Virtue is for the higher. Chinese proverbs. My virtues for today would include hygiene, industry, diligence, and so on. Et cetera. Remember a time a friend had us all over. We played hide and seek. What a time. Played ball. What a time. Hated it. Girls looked good I guess. I could never relate to any girls. I always wanted a girl but I could never really get one. Girls were just weird. Wild and free. Too sexy for me to grasp hold of. Man. Damn. Nothing much to type about really. Too distracted with bad hygiene. Need shower and brush teeth. Big time. Bad time. All the time. I hate how these cycles must be repeated. Thats why Ill never do well in college or any other facet of life. Its all just a big shambles. All the time. Forever and ever more. I hate it. I mean I really do. Its all just a bunch of funny business. Thoughts are sketchy. Racing. Once read that writing is a performance and must be treated as such. I believe that. Because youre also competing against musicians in the fact that music can make one feel good all the time. Writing has that effect but its so boring. Reading is. Unless the author is a good one. I like good authors. All the time good authors. Authors like bukowsi and Fitzgerald and conrad and james and proust and beckett. Authors that just resonate with us. Forever and ever more.

But still. What is there. What is left. What can I have? Can I steal? Do the ten commandments still stand? How the hell does one come about receiving ten commandments from the lord our father. I mean thats got to be a pretty powerful experience. Thats just wild is what it is. Ill never understand it. Never in a million years will I. ah but then again miracles happen everyday. Somewhere. Just not here. Somehow. I guess. Im unsure. Welp, thats all the performance I have in me. Now, its time for the real writing. The brass tacks the writing that made me famous. Ha, yeah I wish. Fame and fortune are my two best friends. All the time they are. I swear by it. By god if idiosyncrasies are your claim to fame then make more of them. By god. Dag nabbit. But what else is there. Can there be more than what there already is. I doubt it. Unless we find it out. I doubt well find it out. Well never get it done. Well never find it out. Itll all just stand away from us. Hiding in the dark. Waiting to be found by those with the brightest light. Yes. Thats what well do. Well wait for those with the bright lights to come along and do the research for us. Ha. I doubt it. Seriously the internet needs better research tools. I guess. I dont know. Ill never figure it out. For realz. Life is like an empty shell. Dont bother it. I guess. I dont know. Pretty apathetic. I guess. I just dont want my life to be as fucked up as Ive seen other lives become. I mean seriously. What the hell. Isnt it all about me? Or is it all about the sun. for it is in the center of the solar system. I guess. I dont know. Its not about the center in basketball. Its about the point guard. I guess. The point guard is the leader. And in families its about the father. Or the mother. I dont know. I guess families are all about sex. It must only be too obvious as we grow up. I guess this is the way to go. I dont know. I dont really care. Good song playing. If only you could hear the music. I wont tell you the song either. Im just not fair like that. Re-read my writing. Its decent. Its nothing to brag about but I can see improvements. Somehow. Over and over again. Just repeating nonsensical things left and right. Always doing the right thing. At the right time. All the time. Forever and ever. Geezuz louises. Ill never get the gist of writing back again. Its so complicated. Ill never get iowa back again. Loved iowa. Never would I have guessed that it was at iowa. Certainly wasnt Europe but mexico wasnt Europe either. Europes been blessed with rich history. What a day we all live in. what a time. What a way. Man. Ill just never fully comprehend the greatness of the time. Shit. Ill never fully understand a damn thing these days. Home by Edward sharpe and the magnetic zeros. Good song. But what will I do. What can I conceive of. Nothing. Im empty. Just a hollow vessel that likes to type some. All the time type shit. Forever and ever. Geezuz christ. I mean I just dont understand a lot. Like wiz khalifa Id rather understand than know. Man. Just nothing to write about. Windy as shit outside. Another overcast day. Bad times all around. Just weird times all the time. I hate my life. Its never as good as I had planned it. But if I had a plan it would consist of getting a job, making money, and moving up from there. Somehow. Someway. But there arent any jobs. And Id probably get fired for lack of interest. Therefore, I must be a stand up writer. One hell of a writer. All the time. And I can be. Writing is my profession. I will be this writer thing. I will succeed. I will become the greatest that I can become. All the time. But really, what is there. What can I do. What can I find. What is there. What can I get my hands on. Is there anything to really like or love? Will there be anything true that wont upset me. As one once said, its not the having, its the getting. I still want one girlfriend that broke up with me instead of me with her. And thats the only one. Actually, I still want Gloria and I broke up with her. What a way to go. What a world we live in. nah, not really. What a shitty world we live in. Once you have them though the fun ends. Its just not fun. Itll never be fun until the getting and the having are somehow interchangeable, somehow blended together. Once and for all. Welp, thats my 3 pages double-spaced. Au revoir.

Just feeling like writing today. Nothing big nothing bad. Just a bunch of awesome. For real. Just feeling really good about writing. Writing is my forte. Love that writing stuff. All the time. Forever and ever. Amen. I guess. I dont know. Is there anything to know. Is there anything to do. Is there anything to be? I have no clue. Who knows. I mean what the hell. Life is cruel. I guess. It can be. I guess. I dont know. Ill never really figure it out. Celebrated last night. Drank some, smoked some, had a great time. Saw a lady friend and there ya go. Hell yeah. All the time. Forever and ever. Man. Nothing to write about. Nothing to type down. Nothing to get my grits cooked. So on and so forth. Just too distracted. Too incompetent. Too unnecessary. Shew. Things are just all bad all around. All the time. Man. If only. I mean. what the hell. What is there. What am I doing with my life. Is it even worth my salt anymore? I feel like I write the same damn thing everyday. Damn. Thats just how it is. I guess. I dont know. Maybe not. Is there anything else. Probably not. Maybe so. Maybe not. I dont know. Who knows. I mean, I guess life is good. Things just get complicated. Takes a while to get that damn thought down on the page. All the time every time. Damn though. Im out. Not feeling this writing thing today. Just nothing going on. Shew. Peace. How is it. What is it. Could it be. Is there anything other than the truth? Can I be in the wrong here. I dont know. But seriously. What can I get for it? Is there any artistic merit in this book that Im currently writing? Probably not. I mean Im trying here but nothing is really going right. So who knows. Ill never figure these things out. Book writing is so hard. So difficult. But oh well. Just got to keep writing. Writing is the way to go my man. All the time. every time. All day and so on. But forever well just have to be worse off. Thats just the way it is. Learning how to do without certain necessities. Finally and forevermore. Jesus Christ. How it all really is. Man. Ill never understand everything that goes on. My life must continue! Onward ho to college! Let the learning commence! Ah-ha! Man. Ill probably drop out again. I dont know. It all sounds pretty gruesome. Ill never fully get to enjoy life. Never. Not ever. Man. Im just plain out of material. I need a new book project. This book is over. Done. Hmmthis might take a while. Trying to figure out what to write about. My first novel may or may not become successful. Well just have to see. Geez louise. Man. Ill get this down sooner or later. In the future I plan on writing a lot of books to get me by. To help me succeed. I plan on graduating from college. Yeah right. I plan on being able to buy a lot of things with the money I earn from my books. Once Ive bought a lot of things, Ill make other plans. But until I can afford the cost of living, alone, Im just a writer trying to make a living. No scholarly business for me. Well there is, but it might take quite some time. I plan on taking a lot of classes so that I can know as much about the world as possible. Writing again. What a lonely profession. Shit. Gotta get it all right the first time round. Anal. Damn. Pickiness. I guess. I dont know. I have no clue. I just wanted it all. An education, a book, money, and all the glorious treasures that come with money. But Im daydreaming. Theres probably a 90% chance it wont be published. I mean what the hell. What am I doing. What am I for. What do they use me for. What am I good for. Damn. Drank too much this weekend. Hangovers are the worst. Hate em. Big time hatred. But I did run so that counts. But I guess Im just weird I guess. I dont know. I have no clue. I mean really. What is it all about. What am I good for. What does it all stand for. Wheres the symbolism. Hmm.what strong feelings have I. what is it that Im truly trying to bring out of my writing. To express. To acknowledge. I want more English classes but theyre expensive. I mean. Im trying to get an education but its just too hard. Ill never get it right. To get it done. Itll just have to take the rest of my life. All of my good luck, fortune, and fame down the drain due to want of a bachelors degree. Damn. And then a masters. And then a doctorate. But really. What else is there. HmmIm just at a loss for words here. Ahhheaven. I do feel good today. Thats a change. That really is a change. I never feel good. But then

again, its not everyday that Im trying to publish my goddamn book. every time. Shew. What a life. What a story. What a way to go. What am I trying to prove. What am I trying to do. HmmI have no clue. What is there for me. What is there for anyone. I have no clue. Will it ever matter. Is there anything to think about. I dont know. Mike and molly. What a horrible comedy. Mike better be glad he has a thick Chicago accent. But thats about it. I dont know. Its not such a bad show. But it is. I mean its on CBS. Like I have a choice. Theres never been any cable or dish or satellite in this household. Shew. What is there for me. I have no clue. I have a positive attitude, work ethic, sitcom on tv, I think Im set. I guess. I dont know. What the hell. Man just got fired on tv. What a way to go. Probably the last youll see him on the tv show. Man. Feel like doody. Man. Shew. Damn. All the time. Forever and ever. And he will reign and the clouds will emit fire and brimstone and there will be hurricanes and tornadoes and there will be hatred among all races and creeds but the mahdi or the messiah or both will have a duel at the end of time to decide if America belongs to the middle east or to the west. If the mahdi wins, islam is the new Christianity. If the messiah wins, then peace resumes. And the author is killed. Or at least he becomes really close to being killed and the messiah saves him. But still, if the mahdi wins, ahmadenijad will launch his campaign to take over America. Nah, just kidding. But thats about it. No more writing. Writing is bad. The guy that got fired is still in the show. What a day. What a night. What a fright. Argh. Argus. The Argonauts. What were they all about? The Argonauts. Band of heroes. Sailed in a boat called the Argo to help Jason attain the Golden Fleece. Laocoon was on the boat. What a discovery. Now lets go to bed. All the time. Forever and ever. Bad habits. Just rituals. Just things we do to get by. Just things to get the ball rolling. Forever and ever amen. what a day. What a life. Who woulda thunk. You can lead a horse to water but you cant look a gift horse in the mouth. Coming from the bluegrass state. The land of Keene and Derby Deluxe. Horses abound, without a sound, without a fright, full of muscle, out of sight. Yeah, I hate writing. Poetics is difficult. Some of it is all right but all in all its hard to back up. I mean, what is there really about anything Im really trying to do. I have no clue. I mean what the hell am I trying to do. Im trying to make money. Im getting there. I will be there. It will happen. But not today. Not no how. But theres gotta be a way, somehow. Geezuz. Aeolus ruled the winds in Greek mythology. Learning all kinds of stuff tonight. Poseidon was also the earth-shaker, god of earthquakes. Canace was a lover of Poseidon. Anywho. Sean combs is on Hawaii five-o. dane cook was on Hawaii five-o. but anyway. I mean what the hell. What am I doing. I mean I dont know. Whats it all good for anyway. 10,000 hours right? Of writing. I cant wait. Cant wait to put my time in. its all just a big mix-up. Its all just weird. Wild as stallions. Man. Hawaii five-o theme has to rock hard as balls. dont know why. Dont know how. Never get it right. Man. Ill figure it out someday. Today aint it. Itll never be it. Ill never get it. I say all this negative stuff to get to the true positivity. Man though. When will I make it big. When will my life be worth living again. Who knows. How the hell can I tell. What is it. What am I trying to do. To accomplish. I wont accomplish anything going back to school. Im a writer for petes sake. Im not a scholar. Im not something that Im not. I cant go back to school. Ill never make it there. Itll never work out. Jesus christ. I mean what the hell is going on. How can I not be in the money yet. I better be in it 4 months from now. If not then Im in big trouble. I mean, what the hell am I getting myself into. Life is just crazy. Big time crazy. All the time crazy. Life aint right. I mean I like it and everything but there are just some things that I cant describe. Like that one time when I met up with a friend at cozys and didnt even know his name. or that other time when I looked a girl dead in the eye and knew that she loved me. But she was with another man. What a night. Watched people play pool. Drank beer. Smoked cigarette. Almost got into some dope. No can do though. Im a writer though. I come up with stuff. Im supposed to be good at this. This whole writing thing. Thats what Ill do. Ill be a writer. Yeah. No big deal right? Shit. Writing aint the easiest shit in the world. Writing is tough. But its all worth it. Its all worth it in the end they say. But Ive been to the end. Its all just a big rip-off really. I mean it. I swear by it. But then again, what else is there. What can I do with my life? What am I good for? What is there for me? Who knows. Is there anything. I dont know. Probably. Somewhere along the rainbow. Or over it. Whichever Dorothy chooses. I guess. I dont know. Things are just as wild as it gets. Get it. Dorothy. Twister. Gah, I loved both of those movies. But what are ya gonna do. What can you

do? Geez. Ive got more problems than the meat on a shish kabob. I make less sense than a homeless person. I make worse jokes than a sad clown. Im more depressed than an actor for a Lipitor commercial. I get the facts wrong so many times that Aflac wants me to be the new duck. I shoot so many ducks that we eat turkey on thanksgiving. I blow the joke so many times that Ive found my lost remote. Whatever floats your boat, ya dig. every time. If only. If only I could be president. If only I could live life as an orangutan. If only aint good enough. Enugg. Dennis the menace. Man couldnt read. Read enough as enugg. Never will I ever get over it. Truth or dare. Right? Shew. Really need to work on paragraph structure. Just not good at paragraphs. But there ya go. I mean, what the hell is it. What is it, God? Is it virtue? Is it all of us? Is it just me? Is it just You? I mean what the hell is going on with my writing? Shit. Damn though. What it is yo. was sup. Cant find that song in particular but I did find another. What it is. Wish I wasnt so African-Americanized. Ha! Man. Gotta find a way to make dough. Gotta find a way to get it right. Getting it straight. Gotta live it up. Gotta really know how to get it. Somehow. But there ya go. Whatever it is. Who knows. Ill never know. What the fuck ever. What can you do. What can anyone do. Me no know. Me no know. Whats it all about anyway. Why cant I ask anything worth anything. How could I make so many mistakes at the bars Saturday night. How could I fuck up so much. How could I get everything so wrong. All the moves. Out the window. Social graces just not even existing. I can win sometimes but not all the time. I guess not anyways. I really dont have the slightest of clues. Ill never figure shit out. I want a college education but it scares me. Just scares me off. For some reason or another. Ill never know. Ill never figure this stuff out. For realz. But what else is there. What can there be. Does anything really exist. Is this all a dream? Man. Metaphysics or epistemology and the matrix has us all taking the red pill. What a dream. What good cinema. Man. Listening to some real techno shit now. Life aint right. Life just aint worth a damn these days. I mean what the hell am I getting myself into. I have no clue. Life is just weird. I hate it. Never will I ever get the life Ive always wanted. Life is just one big fiasco. I guess. I dont know. What a bad idea it all is. I hate my life. Its all too fast. We must slow it down. Somehow. One way or another. Im just not sure. Geezuz christ. One day. Some day. Some way. Some how. Ill never know. Ill never find out. I must know. I must find out. This ignorance is killing me. I must know it all. I must figure it all out. There must be solutions to these problems. There must be goodness in all that is bad. Urgh. HmmI wonder if Ill ever be close to anything at all. I guess. Im not sure. Who really knows. I mean. what the hell am I supposed to do. Ill never know. Life is just too unpredictable. All the time type stuff. Man. What a life. Livin it. Live it up. All the time. If you got the money then just spend it. Splurge every bit of it. Just get it right. Every time. All the time. For one reason or another. Gesus christ. Welp, thats my four pages double spaced. Better get on with it. But thats not enough. Thats only the prescribed average. Have to get it right some other way. Some other type shit. Some way or another Ill get there. Ill get it. Forever more. Amen. I mean who knows. This could be a bestseller. I doubt it but there ya go. What to ask for it. I have no clue. Is it even good reading material. I dont know. It ought to be. Your reader wont stand for much else. Never will they ever. Man. I really got to get on my grind. Racial slur. I know. Man. I need to do more research. I need more topics to research. I need to go back to school. Case in point. Knowledge is the power. It has to be. Have to get my knowledge. Thirstin for knowledge. Gotta get it right. Man. Typing is tiresome. Nothing to type about. Trying to get my first book published. Trying. Hard to know if Ill succeed. Tough business. I know it is. So Ive read. But then again what else is new. Sheeit. I need more books. I need more knowledge. I need more money first. Always need more money. Forever need more money. Money is the essence of my way. It is who I am. All that money. Without money you are as good as nothing. every time. All the time. Forever and ever amen. bobby knight. Bad mouthing uk. Saying it aint fair for one man to have all that talent. But its not the end of the world. Never in a million years. But thats tough. Thats life. But then again, what else is there. I mean, what the hell. What is there in life. What can I have. What can I do. What is there to have. What is there to do. Who knows. Man.

Need a new style. Need to switch it up. Need luck. Need lots and lots of luck. Need good tidings. Need good things. Lots of good things. All the time good things. Forever and ever. What is there. Why isnt there. What can there be. Man. Life is rather boring. Need to get something off my chest. Wish I could. Wish I could write novels. Im writing memoirs instead. Non-fiction. I guess. Ill never know. Things are just wicked. Wild as fuck. Happening. Forever and ever. Some things just arent that good. But they made crows as well as bluebirds. They made vultures to go with those turkeys. blue jays for cardinals. Starlings with pigeons. You get the idea. Wish I knew more. Might as well take the night off to learn more about stuff. For some reason or another. But then again, Im in the zone with my writing. Im just getting it. Im hitting on all cylinders. For the first time. For the very first time. All the time. Forever more. Amen. amen this. Amen that. Amen all yall to hell. To heaven with the rest. Purgatory and dante for the uneducated. The distressed. Nah, thats all for tonight. Im done. Finito. Finished. Its over. Im no longer a writer. Im out of it. Just plain tired. Drop the world on yo fuckin head. Good song. Look it up. Wish I could learn from every artist. With I knew how to learn. Wish I could discover the joy of learning. Well, maybe after this song. I guess. I dont know. I think Im done but then again I like to write. I just want the write. Writing the written word is just for me. All the time. Forever and ever. Who knows. Hip hop. Skip scotch. Stuff like this and that. I just dont get it. I dont understand. Its over. Bye-bye. Typing. Just feel like typing. Big time typer. All the time typist. What up. I can make anything happen. Im a word magician a mathematician. I can make rabbits come out of airplanes. I can do anything. Rapping. Yeah right. Im a lawyer. Ha. And I made yall love it. Man. Heart disease and alcohol aint no shit. That shits for real. Have to write like eminem raps. Only white reference that I have really. I guess. I dont know. Things are just messed up. Its never what you think it is. Too tired to think too much. Like to write. Love for the written word. Just for the process really. Not much on the reading and re-reading. But there ya have it boys and girls. There ya have it. But who knows. What else is there. For real. What can there be. What is there. I dont know. Ill never figure out the mysteries of life. They shall remain unknown. Forever and ever more. Just for the sake of never knowing. Never having known. What you dont know can hurt you. Every time. All the time. Forevermore. I cant write like Eminem raps. Just doesnt work that way. He raps too angry. But oh well. I think it works. Ill never try. I guess. I dont know. I mean what the hell is there. I dont know. Is there anything worth any trouble. Probably not. I have no clue. Its all just a charade. Just a big phase of nobody cares anymore. Cuz I mean I dont care anymore. Itll never phase me. Remember a time when we all ran around grandmas house for the fitness. It was a race. I won. How bout them apples. Bad little race. Didnt like it so much. But Ill work out. I guess. No reason for it not to. Well there is but thats another story. Things dont just fall apart. They stay together. Glued. Upheld. Worthy of recognition. Worthy of my life and yours. Man. Nothing to write about. Nothing to do. Nothing going. Nothing done. Nothing did. Spring has sprung. Yet again. I wonder how many springs there have been in the history of the earth. Probably a lot. Haha. Silly question right? Depends on how scientists view things fundamentally, yes? Who knows. I dont know. Ill never know. Things are just too hard to know. To learn. Things are just really difficult right now. Its hard to explain. Mind blank. Writers block. I just cant write or read or compose anymore. Its never good enough. Never good enough. I just cant handle the bad quality of my writing anymore. Its just something bigger than I am now. I guess. I dont know. I mean what the hell. Who knows. Ill never know. Ill never figure it out. Its all so vague to me now. Now and forever more. I guess. I dont know. Fuck this. This is just scribble scrabble. Man, though. Need a job. Need wages. Need something worth having. Nothing around here is worth having. Must exert self-control. Must go back to school and do well. Really well. All the time kind of stuff. Forever and ever. Amen. I guess. I dont know. Things are trifling. Over and over again. What the hell was I experiencing back in January. Why was it so hard. It shouldnt have been that hard. It is pretty hard. You must admit. They dont just hand out those diplomas anymore. Nor will they ever. I mean they are the keys to a higher earning potential. It just makes sense. Looks good on the resume and everything.

But Ill be all right. Ill keep it together. It might work out. Maybe one day. I dont know. I just dont see everything working out. I mean I want real fame and fortune here. These dreams just dont disappear. Youve got to stick with them and work hard at it. every time. Forever and ever. But if not then thats perfectly fine too. I suppose. I mean. who cares. Really though. Friendship is for losers anyway. My old best friends birthday today. No other day like it. Like Ill be able to relate to him anymore. Hes almost promised a good career and here I am struggling with writing. Jesus christ. Itll work out she says. And shes blind. I just dont get that. Theres kind of a key component missing there. But its there none the less. Agh. Who cares. Writing again. Just writing. Trying my hand at online dating. Trying. Not accomplishing much. Probably need to see failure time and time again for some reason. Failure hurts. Its not fun. But at least you learn from failure. Its a damn good teacher in what not to do and how to do things differently. With the possibilities being limitless sometimes, its hard to choose the right actions for the best possibilities. For this is the good. Eminem on the mic. Hate his whiny voice. Probably a lot like mine. I guess. I dont know. Man. Need a new life. Need a better life. Forever and ever amen. just like God knows what or who. Or whatever. Mad hatter shit. What was that rabbits name? the hare? The mad hare? The red hare? I dont know. That was one fucked up tea party. So how are the creative juice created? How are they created? I have no idea. I wish I knew. Creativity is the essence of writing. Without it, then you write like me, James Osbourne. Clueless, horrible, and broke. Not able to get any good out of anything. For one reason or the other. I mean what the hell. How can I put down another page. Pages are hard to write. Its just a matter of sticking with it, theyll say. I disagree. Its a matter of talent and knowing what to write. I never have any idea of what to write. Youre basically listening to a crazy person just expressing his opinion on the next thought that pops into his head. Youre welcome. But its not that bad really. I think it works on several levels. I guess. I mean it could work out. Who knows. But really. Nothing to write. Wind blows. House shakes. Parents sleep. Jimmy stays up trying to write the next #1 bestselling, Pulitzer, Nobel, and any other Prize and award winning book of the decade. Yeah buddy. Thatll happen. I mean it could. But I doubt it. Things just dont work that way around my house. But it could. I just need better reading and writing skills. I have to be blessed with the gift. If only I had a tutor or a mentor. What a life I would lead. Forever and ever amen. I mean. really. This shit is righteous. Welp. I better retire. Nothing to write. Need sleep. Nah. Ill just keep on writing. Well, nothing really happened today. Printed out my manuscript and plan to deliver tomorrow to a literary agency called Martin & McClean LLC. Based in Colorado. Coury and Jesse came over for supper. Drank a smoothie. Now have whey powder. Ran yesterday. Hungover yesterday. Came to terms with God about life yesterday. Went to church yesterday. Saw a pretty girl at church yesterday. Good times. Drank too much alcohol on Saturday. Feeling it in my heart. Truly binge-drinking. Couldnt handle it at all. Dont know if Ill be able to party on Easter or Derby Day. What a time had by all. Got the mail today. Wouldve played basketball. Couldnt. have to go to the post office when it gets daylight. Bad little deal. They might ask what it is and Ill have to tell them. And then someone might know that I try to write books and make money off of them. My life would be ruined. Only insofar that Ive not made a dime off of my writing. If I had then there would be no shame in going. It would be wellconstituted and agreeable. It is not, however. It is quite different in reality. But thats it. Thats all Im good for. Im too tired. Need sleep. I could go on and on but its too much like work. Its too much of a job. I just cant go on. Sayonara. Writing. Nothing to write about. Just have to write about what I know. Forever and ever. And I dont know much. I just like to think that I know some things. Again and again. Nah. I dont know. Hmm.. What is the reason for anything. I dont know. What is the case in this scenario. Who really knows. Not a notion. Not even a notion. Ill figure it out. Itll all come down to the last minute. Yeah buddy. All the time. Forever and ever. Who knows though. Who can really say. What is there to know. What is there to say. I have no clue. But I do hope that these thoughts reach deep areas in your life. I also pray for your cats death. Nah, Im

just kidding. This song called mosh by eminem is not bad. I dont guess. Sounds like an old military song. Stuff like this and that. Geez. Gets a little wild. But thats just about how he is. What is there to do. What can I do. What can I become. What can I do. What is there the right to do. Is there a right to do anything. Are we just trapped inside our little cages until something better comes along. All the time. Forever and ever. Who knows. I know my heart didnt appreciate last Saturday night. What a time. What a day. Who knows. Hows it going to be. I just dont know. Ill never really figure it out. Not even for a second. Yet, I want a ph. D. what the hell. Ill never know how to get there. Im too weak. Not strong-willed enough. Poor and meek. Miserable. Les miserable. How they make art out of misery. How they make anything out of anything. My science is to make something out of nothing. Somehow. That would be the best. But I dont know how. Im no industrial genius. Man. Im too tired. Im just not good enough for the writing profession. Never in a million years. Ill figure it out sooner or later. Dont know how. Ill get it right. I think I worry about writing too much. I dont think that its not good. I think its well-written. I may we could always use improvement but practice makes perfect. Itll all work out somehow. It has to. It just has to. Living on a prayer. Man. Ill never figure out the hypotenuse of the universe. I dont guess. Im not sure. Im really drab feeling right now. Kind of cursed. Kind of lazy. Lethargic. Just unable to comprehend anything at the moment. Just really undead feeling. Saturday wasnt a good time. Binge-drinking is not cool. Never will be in my book. Not anymore. Im on a healthy binge and staying that way for the rest of my life. I guess. I dont know. Hows it gonna be? I like that song. Hows it gonna be? Oasis I believe. Who knows. Figuring stuff out must be my forte. Its like theres a big mystery to life and its always unsolved. You just have to figure it out, day in and day out. All the time. I guess. I dont know. Theres probably more to it than that. But still, my heart, mi Corazon, she hurt! Real physical pain! Ah! I will never binge-drink that cursed alcohol ever again! I will not die like Tony died. Never will I ever. But who knows. I mean. things change. It might be a little rough here or there but things change. every time. All the time. I mean who really knows what to expect. Maybe theyll accept my manuscript and want to see what I have of the next one. I dont know. Its hard to say. But like it really matters. This is my life. It counts for little. Little and nothing at all. Slim to nil. Those are my chances. Ill almost bet you that it gets rejected. Theyll find something they dont like with it. Like the whole thing. Again and again. Over and over. The rainbow. Time and time again. Can I say time after time? Or is that trademarked? Copyrighted? Probably all of the above. Well. Theyll just have to edit it out. No biggie. But still. This emptiness lingers in me. Have to find a life of fulfillment. A fulfilling life full of excitement and what not. Thought weed was the passage to that but apparently not. Its harder to find than a woman. All that drinking and socializing for nothing. So what is my bliss. Notta clue. Ill find it. I think its writing. But then again, I just dont know. I think its college life but then again, that might have to take some figuring out. College life really is nice. Once you can afford it. Forgot I was wearing glasses. Thats always the strangest feeling. Ah. Who cares. Miss that old iowa city. Such a feel good place. Such freedom. Such misery. Hatred for all. Frustration for some. Curses to the masses. Jesus christ. Why doesnt he just show up already. Or is he just having fun with God in Heaven. I mean really, were all starting to suffer down here. Like its beginning to look like the real thing, baby. The real end. But I could be wrong. Maybe thats how you start a book. Just like spring. It looks like the beginning but with all the tornadoes and thunder storms its more apt to look like the end. Nah. Thatll never work. Theyre all too clever for that. every time. When will I ever know. When will I ever understand. Will it ever come to pass? Will I ever get enough money? Will it ever happen? Can these things happen? What is to come to pass? How can I predict the future? Questions such as these. Forever and ever. Silence. Nothing to report on. Nothing to do. Just plain bliss and happiness. Over and over again. Forever more. Man. My middle name is Sidney. Isnt that a shame. I wish it were something better. Something grander. But who knows. Maybe I like the small town life. Maybe I like the trouble that Ive been born into. Maybe it all just tickles me on all sides just the right way. Maybe it does. What a way it is. I love it.

Stomach growling. Hungry. Not sure what to eat. Theres so many options on this Abs Diet thing. I vote for oatmeal. If I get the chance. Dad plagues the downstairs. I hate when these things happen. Sometimes we get way less than we expected. It even falls into the negative category. But then what. What have we then? Who knows. Ill never fully understand. I may be a man of great intellect but even the simplest mysteries deserve navigation. Theres just no way to fully understand it all. What holds people back from fighting and what prompts or provokes them. Id rather just talk about my last book. In it, I became a man. I was found. I found myself. I went skydiving, lost my virginity, got my first taste of freedom, got in a fight, drank a lot, smoked a lot, and hundreds of other events. Oh, how it was all so dangerous. Going to iowa has to be the stupidest thing that Ive ever done. And Im a smart man. I mean really, faith and hope cant get you everything and take you everywhere. We have boundaries. Constraints. Restrictions. These do apply. But without them then we wouldnt be who we are. Good and bad. Shit. What is there to do. Theres a stranger downstairs and I dont know what to make of it. Im just kind of spellbound right now. Just kind of clueless. Hes got weak character anyway. Crush him. every time. But he just keeps on going. It sounds like hes making us out to be the bad guys. every time. All the time. Forever and ever. I guess. I dont know. Im just kind of clueless. But then again, theres laughing. Whats all the laughter about. I have no idea. Whats all this about. Whats anything about. What the hell is going on. What is the wrong thing. God I hate my father. He puts all his trouble and worries on me. He did one time. He annoyed the shit out of me when I came home from iowa. I hated it. I always hate this. It just fires me up. Every time. Its not a good fire either. Its the worst one can muster. God I hate him. Hes the worst. God I just hate him. Why have a damn father. What good is a father. What is the need for one. Shit. I hate asking stupid questions. Still. What is the meaning of all this. What am I trying to become. What will I be when I grow up. What is there to do. To become. To beg for. To need. To desire. Is it all just a bunch of hoopla? Can we grow out of our existential shells? Who is this guy downstairs. His speech is offensive. Jesus christ. What else is there. What can I do for myself. Why is this so ugly. What is the matter here. What is the right thing to do. So many options. Theres only a few things I could do. Im just kind of clueless really. I mean its all just a bunch of hoopla. Every time. Well at least the stranger is gone. But now dad is talking. I dont like it when he talks. Hes not a good talker. Im not either. But there ya go. What else is there to know. Who knows. I mean. the resources. The income. Everything that needs to be done. God I hate this failure of a family. Such a nuisance to the psyche. What else is there. All this and that is making me nervous. Nothing doing nothing going. Hatred abounds. Geez luis. Man how I hate my life. I sure do hope these literary agents help me out. It sure would be nice. I mean I did a lot of this work for free. I hope they dont charge me anything. That would be a shame. But there ya go. Just take a look at me now. God how I hate. I dont think its in vain I think its just a stress reliever. every time. Welp. I dont guess I have to take my manuscript. Theyve already done it. What a surprise. What a life. Geezuz christ. I think Im done. No more writing for me. Just too much trouble. Good-bye. Just typing again. Hatred. Fierce. Bierce. Bad times. Good times. I know Ive had my share. Hatred. Remains. Bad tidings. Good tidings. Hatred. Bad things. Good things. Hatred. Over and over again. Just gluttony. Just bad times. Just badness. Ugliness. Vileness. Hatred. Want of love. Need love. No love. You get no love. None love. Hatred. Too ecstatic. I have ticks. I might have terets syndrome. I dont know. Or tremors or epilepsy. The quivers. The shakes. The restlessness. Again and again. Who knows. Ill never figure these things out. Life is too slow. Too harsh. Too unincredible. I get too riled up. Still. Life is not working out the way that I had planned. It never does. Im never right anymore. I cant read worth a shit. I cant hardly do anything. Im worthless. Its all meaningless. Its horrible. Its just care-free, careless, alackaday here, alackaday there. Seriously. What is going on. What can I do. What can I be. Who am I? what is there? Is there anything. Am I in the wrong yet again. Is there anything to do. To touch. To see. To need. To want. To love. To do. Anything at all. I feel hopeless. Clueless. Meaningless. Just plain unexcited about my prospect of life. No

job. No love. No nothing. Just a bad dream. Just a bad day. Too many noises downstairs. Makes me feel ugly. Makes me feel used. I hate people. I could never make it in america. Life is too harsh. Its too crowded. Its just not good enough. Its hopeless. Its so harsh. Theres just no way to make it anymore. Nothing to become of anything. Just a plain sack of garbage. Just a worthless piece of shit. Nothing is worth anything anymore. I hate it. Its over. Bienvenidos. Man. Shew. Damn. What a nightmare. What a train wreck. Hatred among the peoples. whats in a name? that was a bad question. Always a bad question. Never a good answer. Things are just so opinionated. So contrived. So prejudiced. I hate it all. Just let me live! Just let me die! There are cherishable things in this life! Please let me enjoy them! Please! Most merciful! Allah! Ha-ha! Yeah right. I call my God God and my Jesus Jesus. They dont teach us much differently. They dont teach diversity. They preach it but they dont teach it. I dont know what to do with all those colored people. Shit. Things are different. Theyre changing. Trump for 12. Everytime. Time after time. Man. What a song. Im not even listening to any music. What a day. All written out. Im done. Nothing more to do. Nothing more to accomplish. The day is dead. The night is young. Nothing more to do. Nothing more. Never more. Further away from the truth. Always further away. Until I get it right. Speaking nonsense in the night. Never going out of sight. What a fright. What a trifle. Who am I to be disciple? never mind me. Go on with your life. With your own mystery. Forevermore. Ever after. Love. Always love. Never cherish. Always do what is best. Always read. Never write. Always do the absolute best. Dont let anything get in your way. Ever. Writing the written word. What a waste. What a game. What a gem. What a burger. What is a burger. What is a game. What is a gem. What are you. What are we. Can we just play around with semantics all day like this? Probably not. Damn. Defeated. This house beats me up when other people use it. I hate when this house is used and Im trying to do something. Life is just too fucked up. Violence must prevail. Thats the only real stress relief. Its free, its cheap, anyone can do it. Violence is the answer. Without it, we wouldnt survive as a species. Sure, some may die but thats all part of the perfect schema. I guess. I dont know. Ive never died so I dont know how that really resounds to me. Reincarnation? Who knows. I just dont know. Violence? Answer? Maybe. Maybe. Maybe just a little. But I dont know. I mean, cows die violently. We need those to live. To thrive. To be at one with the animal. Probably. I dont know. I cant really deliver many answers. Im just so pissed because Im expected to deliver wedges for some damn reason. I hate wedges. They are the worst. Lower expectations? No thank you Seneca. You will just have to die your murderous death over and over again because violence prevails. Whosoever is the most powerful wins. If you cannot defeat the most powerful then he can get what he wants. Its that simple. The weakest are poor and lowly and the strongest prevail. Over and over again. The cycle never stops. There has to be a range. Its just that simple. So. Hopes and dreams. I will be an astronaut. I will be a cowboy. A stoner. A travel agent. A college grad. A writer. An actor. A politician. A jack of all trades and a master of a few. But most importantly, a drinker of fine wines. Every time. Mom is the worst. I hate her so much. I am the anti-love. The anti-christ to quote Nietzsche. Ha! As though I were the Anti-Christ. I would smoke dope with Jesus. Only if he accepted. He looks like perfect stoner material. Loving it. Nothing to do. Nothing to share. Had to wait out a storm last night. Bad news bears. Just horrible democracy everywhere. All the time. These things just never stop. Its so annoying. What a life I lead. What crimes it witnesses. What inhumane acts. I could just go impregnate all of the problems of the world so that they would create other problems and then, well that doesnt make any sense. Im just not that good at making sense. Surely, thats one of those tabooed diseases. Like schizophrenia or bipolar disorder. What a way to go. I hate psychology. I hate psychologists. I hate psychiatrists. I hate anyone trying to meddle with the mind. Mind your own business is the famous adage. Why wont they allow these people to do the same? Why must they mind other peoples minds and businesses? I just dont understand the caring principles of our society. They try to help but they only harm. Its a vicious cycle. They gain pleasure of cruelty. Their very work is cruel. Its a menace to society is what it all is. Call me a social critic. See how far that gets ya. You cant call a Kentuckian anything other than a Kentuckian. Hes only good for tucking away into his house, kinfolk, tucking away secrets, knowing people named Ken, and being south of the Hoosiers. Those Indiana men and women who dont really do much of anything. Again, this makes no

sense. Im not concerned with it. I think nonsense adds flavor for the reader. I hope he or she feels the same way. God I hate democracy. Meddle not with a rebellious seed, for it is evil. But no. our society loves the rebel. The rebel gets special treatment, as it were, especially in Libya. Not so much in post-Civil War America. But yes in the Star Wars Trilogy. The Rebels are heralded as the fear mongers, not the imperialists. Again, I make no sense. I get my facts wrong. I stick out of society like a thorn on a rose. Roses though. Thats always been my angry point. Why have a beautiful flower if it will only prick you? Whats the point? Its almost heaven but the pricks stay with you. Unfair. Not even close to nice or neat. Wasnt it all supposed to go nicely into a neat little package? Who knows. Ill never figure out the dimensions of the universe. Or anything for that matter. What a wheel we all spin. Famous adages and whatnot. Urgh how I hate it all. Peace is not for me. War is the way. Peace if for the me with a lot of money. War prevails until the money has been procured. Thats always been the way of most terrorists, including Americans. You cannot label one person one thing without thinking the same of yourself. Whosoever produces the news describes his own atmosphere. Certainly George W. Bush met many terrors in his life. Surely he wasnt wholly a prop for the Department of Defense. A mere puppet as it were. But even then, surely our Dept. of Defense hath met many a terror. Are even terrorists themselves. And theres no denying that America has played the role of bad guy. Call me the anti-Nietzsche. For he had much sentiment for his nation whereas I have rage and anger for mine. But really, why was I born here. Why not the Netherlands. Why not England. Why not into a wealthier class. Why not with more powers and abilities. Why not smarter, more gifted. Why not more handsome. Why not more playful. Why not more industrious. Why me, God? Why not something else? Why not someone else? Why not Alaska? Or Hawaii? Why in this industrial complex they call America? I hate America? It is rotten, filthy, over-ridden, overrated, and so on. But I get too enraged. I am too passionate. My passions are dark. I fear the Iranian leader. I fear the future of this country. I hate. I loathe. I do not comply nor do I help my fellow man. I am the destroyer and I dont intend on changing courses. I wreck houses, homes, I am a ruiner. There is no beauty left in me. I am a beast. A monster. I destroy. I kill. I infect with plagues. Woe is not me. You are the woe that is life. Woe be unto you. Even Jesus said that. They context may be different but woe be unto you. Forever and ever. I must take a shower. I must deliver. I must be this monster beast thing that I am. Forever and ever. Amen. I must do the right thing. I must be who I was meant to be. A nothing. A nobody. Doing nothing for nobody. Just a corrupt slave of intuition. Never quite reaching his destination. Always falling short. Always reaching far, never quite attaining. Yes, Ive had my hand caught in the cookie jar a bit too much. War on the world. Now and forevermore. Woe be unto thee, reader. Woe be unto thee. Cant I start anything without beginning with the letter w? probably not. I mean I dont know. Just need to be albe to tyupe without messing up. Messing up is too easy. I mean. I need I dont know what I need. I hate backspace. I only like forward space. Keys are too small. Who knows. Whatever the fuck. Fuck the whatever . What the fuck ever. Ya dig? Who knows. Ill never figure this jit out. What a bad day. Bad times. All the time. Forever and ever. Amen. what can I do. What can I go upon? What is the basis of my argument? What am I trying to approach? To get towards? What am I trying to do? To become? What is there for me? What can I get to? What is it? What is it? Why am I trying to hard to be so non-chalant? Who knows. Ill never figure out these idiosyncrasies. For the love of God. Life is just too short. I guess. Ill never make up my mind. Ill figure it out. Someday. Somehow. Writing upon writing upon writing. Upon writing. Writing isnt all that fun anymore. If I get paid it will be but if not then Im just another guy typing at his computer for no absolute reason. What a day I live in. Ill never fall in love. Not with anyone. Never. Not at anytime. Never will I ever. Will I ever? Probably not. No clue. Not a clue. Is there a clue? Does life come with its own set of clues? Probably not. I mean I dont know. Is there anything to know? To do? To be? Nay. Never will there ever be. Life is just too messed up. I hate life. Life is filled with mystery and disaster. Bad feelings always come back. What a difficult enterprise weve begun. What a time to live in. what a day. Never a day. Welp. Im just trying to make a living as a writer. My name is john doe. Your average schmuck. every time.

All the time. All day in fact. Never a season too soon. Never a day to lose. Never a time was I notfinish the sentence you lazy bastard. No. I will not. I deny it. It did not happen. What then. What will become of us. Who knows. My lexicon is expired. How to I increase lexicon? No idea. Is there a debate going on between me and myself? Probably. Which side of you will win? Desire, reason, or spirit? Who knows. Who cares. Who wants to know. Ill never know. Ill never figure anything out for sure. Life is just too magical. What the fuck. What was I ever trying to do with my life? Can I do it again? What money? Theyll spend no money. Ill have no money. Money money money. I hate it. Itll never cure anything. Itll never take care of the great things of the world. Itll. What a bad word. Itll. Aargh. What a horrid day. Just nothing going on. I mean I acutally have the time to write a book but theres nothing for me to understand. I mean. Im lost. Theres just nothing out there for me. Its over. It never was. It cannot be. It has ceased to be. I miss it. I want it back. What a day I live in. just plain overall bad days forever more. What a day. A bad day indeed. I mean what the fuck. Can there be anything that we can do? Can anyone do anything thats worth anything anymore? Probably not. But thats just it. I guess. I dont know. Things are just too expensive. I guess. I dont know. Wholl ever know? Will there ever be any knowledge on anything? Probably not. Weve gone from not knowing to not having any knowledge. My were progressing in philosophy. What a day. What a night. What a second. Just missed it. It was right there. Shouldve done something creative with it. But I didnt. never will I ever. Never again. Too tired. Just really really tired. Nothing to do about it. Nothing to think. Nothing to go on. Nothing to really want to do. Nothing to want. Nothing to need. Just plain orbital space abounds. Just plain sadness and frowns. Still have to go to a psychiatrist. What a bad deal. Just a plain nonsensical type thing I have to do. I hated my life. I still hate my life. Just a baad time overall. I thought my life would be better these days but its not. Itll never get any better. Medicine makes it worse. Its like a crutch that I dont really need but have to carry around for looks or whatever. What a day. Jesus christ. Life is just not fair. And it takes a long time about it too. Theres just no end in sight of this mental illness shit. Theyll always peg me with it. Theyll always accuse me of it. Theyd probably kill me with it too. What a difficult journey I have. What a day. What a life. What a bad dose of people that interfere with my fucking life. I hate people. I hate life. I hate em all. I hate it all. None of it is very good. Its all just a bad dream. Itll go away when they all die. every time. I like it when people die. They dont trouble us anymore for anything. I hate being troubled. Trouble is just such a baad day. Such a bad dose of everything. Never will I ever want anything to do with anything from this day forward. I guess. I dont know. Hatred. Just pure golden hatred with fiery rocky lava. God I hate hatred. I love love but theres nothing like that that exists. Its all just evil. Just so devilish. I dont even want to go back to school. Just too much trouble for my parents. They dont help out at all anymore. Theyre dead to me. They just dont understand anything anymore. Its all just a matter of being too stupid for anything. I mean Itll all just have to expire in the end anyway. One way or the other. Damn it all to hell. Heaven is strictly forbidden. Never will they ever get to experience anything that is worth anything anymore. What a day. What a way. What a life. What a thing to say. Geezuz christ. What a bad day. What a terrible time. Hatred for the whole of society. Just pure golden hatred. Now and forever more. I call for the destruction of society. Its over. It has to be. Theres just no such thing as a good society anymore. Its all just humorless and vain. I hate my life. Its all so bad. I hate society. Argh. I just hate. Purely and truthfully. What a pure hatred I have for everything. What a pure hatred. At least Im writing. Never knew how much crap I had in me though. Full of it I am. What a waste. What a beautiful day that nobody cares about. Just gone to waste. Monstrosities. Abound. Every time. Eet by regina spektor is pretty good. Somehow. For some reason. Aesthetic beauty? Probably. I dont know. I cant describe art or music for that matter. Its all just a bad time in the end. I just want it to end. Once and for all. But the earth is trapped in its orbit. I say we free it. I say we try to push the earth out of its orbit so that we all just die and make everything extinct. I say thats a good idea. Why doesnt anyone do it? Because nobody hears me. I guess. I dont know. I just want the end. For one reason or another. Im not sure. Its all so crazy. Just end it already. Just let me live. Just go crazy for Christs sake. Who knows whatll happen then. I mean I dont know. What the hell is the use of it all? No use. No time. Just go. Hatred. Pure hatred.

Thats enough for that session. Ill start a new one. Hmmwhat can I write about. I dont know. I guess thats it for this session too. Oh well. Just writing again. Writing. Like a sucker. Just writing like a sucker. What a day. What a night. What a time. Ill never figure out the multitude of life. Ill never get this shit right. I just want to know everything about everything. Its mucho difficult though. I could never. I will never. I might though. The problem with negativity is that they dont let you finish. They just dont let you finish. Turns out my rant today had some drastic results. McDonalds hiring day turned violent. Bitch ran over three people. I mean what the hell. Not sure if Ill get these times to line up right. Might have to try to get them right. For some reason. Some how. I guess. I dont know. Things are difficult. Sometimes. For some reason. If its not one thing its another. every time. For one reason or another. Ill never know nor understand. Man. Need a new life. Need a change in scenario. Need a new surrounding. Need change. Need something out of the ordinary. Needs need to be met. This country is done. Its finished. Might as well turn it into Afghanistan or Iraq or Iran. Just let them take over. I wont care. Ill pray to Allah five times a day. Its no big deal. Geezuz. Im trying to buy dope. The deal didnt go down tonight but it might tomorrow. I hope so anyway. I thought Id be able to celebrate 4/20 but that was a no go. No biggie. I have more gas money and still have some money for dope. I love it. Its awesome. Life is good. Life will always be good. In the hood. Things of this and that nature. every time. All the time. Forever and ever. Nah. I dont know. I just wish I could write a little bit better. Sometimes I can nail it but other times Im just off. Right now is one of those off times. I guess. I dont know. Still. Listening to music and watching television is very distracting for this type of exercise. Like writing. Writing is an exercise. I guess. I dont know. I wish I could know more. I wish I could afford an awesome education. I doubt Ill make it in the fall semester. Life just has to go on. Some way or another. I have to get it good one way or the other. I want that ph. D. but I have to go through masters and bachelors first. Somehow Ill make it. Ill survive. Once I get my money straightened out. That would be some shit. At least I have a long term goal attached with it. At least I have a high school diploma. A lot of times they say be grateful for what you do have but all I say is, why stop there? Theres always more to be achieved. Every time. All the time. Almost everyday. Geez louise. For Christs sake. Who knows. Life used to be good. But now Its just nothing. Less than nothing. Its worthless. Its so frustrating. Its so hard. Its so messed up. Its just a matter of time. I hate my life. I want death. Suicide. Cyanide. TNT. Explosive, right? Yeah right. Haha. What a life I lead. Its a shambles. Everywhere I go I carry my shambles with me. Every time. What else is there. Man. Writing. Its so horrid. Writing. I hate writing so much. Very much so. If only I could be better wriiter. every time. Just a good writer. Man Im so off right now. Things are not corresponding as they should. I think Im losing my mind. What a day. What a time. Who are we. What am I. is there anything to know or to be. Can I really have anything in the world. Probably not. I mean I have no clue. Its all so complicated. Every time. Forevermore. Writing is the devil I swear by it. every time. Writing just isnt me. No sir bob. Never willl I ever. Sometimes I might though. Things might get better. They ought to get better. Maybe one day. Maybe some time. I hope so anyway. If not then things will just have to crumble. Every time. All the time. Everyday. Damn. Shouts out to Josh Deering. My main man. Remember him from Cozys the other night. Thanks to Michael peterson. Always making new friends. every time. Geezuz christ. What am I doing. What am I talking about. Who am I. is there anything. I dont know. I doubt it. I think its all just a big curse. Its not even worth deliberating. I think itll just crash and burn. Every time. Geezuz. Crashing and burning. I hate the way it all is. Its not even worth a damn anymore. Its all so wild. Not even close to mild. Damn I need this

dope deal to go through. I dont really but I really like dope. Smoke the dope, aint got no hope. every time. Things such as this. Forever and ever. I mean what the hell is really going on. Is the news telling us everything? Isnt there a bigger story going on? Probably. Its hard to hear them all. Thats like trying to attend every class at every university and trying to read all the texts. Its impossible. You have to figure out where youre good and what you can contribute. I think its math for me. English was a dream. But no thanks. Too difficult. Too hard. Too much this and too much that. Its all just a matter of simplicity. I think so anyway. I dont know. Ill never figure these things out. I want to figure these things out but its just so hard. Difficult things are not my pleasure. If only I could do more. If only I were worth more. If only life were more tasty. More auspicious. Just a bit more on the awesome side. I really need to talk to this dude but Im too scared. I mean we dont like good people to think of us in these wild and crazy drug abusing contexts. What the hell. And here I am trying to spend good money on something illegal. Woe is me. I thought woe would be unto everyone else but no, woe is me, yet again. What a day. What a night. What a time. Crazy. Its all so very crazy. I like crazy. Ill pray for more crazy. Love the crazy. Without crazy then things get a little too sane. Love it. every time. Just gotta love it. Shew. Life though. Its always there. Never really goes away. But thats okay. Ill be fine. every time. Geez. Im just all open and out of ideas. I swear by it. Theres just nothing left to attain or accomplish with the skills that I currently possess. I need more. I need something that will put me over the top. I dont know what it is but there ya go. I mean, really though. I need more. Its never enough. We all want it all but experience is limited. We should all just quit our jobs and figure out ways to make it like that. Yeah right. I dont even have a job. The bad thing is that the minorities would take over in wealth. We dont need that now do we? Who knows. I like minorities. They add flavor. Need a wife, need a car, need a house, need a better education, need higher standards, need better production. Need better work ethic. Need more money. Need something that will vastly increase my worth. Not sure what. These things are just impossible. I swear by it. I just hope that one of my books gets put up for publication, marketed, and sold. I just hope so. I mean I really hope these things work out. If not then Ill just have to gun myself down. Perfect stoner song right here. World at Large by modest mouse. Wish I couldve. Oh well though. Life will go on. Life will be better. Gets better all the time. Every time. Forever and ever amen. Shew. Just looking back and realizing that I live too fast. Thats okay though. I like it. Makes me feel aokay. Loving life. every time I love life. Life, she dont love me back. Wah wah. Story of my life. She dont love me back. Love ought to be mutual. I hate it. Love is kind? Psh. I wish. Never in my life. Never ever. I mean really though. What the hell am I doing. What the hell is going on? Isnt there something that I can do? Arent we born to servantry? Probably. But who does what and for what reasons. Its all because of the lawyers that we cant do as we please. But thats okay. Freedom isnt the only thing america is good for. Wait. It is. Dammit were screwed. I hate that feeling. Ah, nuts. Well at least I can look forward to Easter and Derby. Hellz yeah. Loving life. Thats the thing about good times, its hard to keep them alive. The bad times are always waiting. Just around the corner. every time. But thats okay. Life will be all right. Itll get better. But what if it doesnt? well, who knows. I think the biggest thing for me is coming to terms with the fact that there are just a lot of things in life that I have no control over. Its just a shame. Oh well. At least Ive written. That much closer to 10,000 hours. Adios. Here I am. On the road again. Haha. What a life. What a way. Whos to say. Who am I? geezuz. Christ. Writing like a nympho. On my bed on the side. Relatively hard. I like hard though. Hard things are nice. I hate that my sentences arent that long. Longer sentences rule the domain. But how. How do I make the sentence longer? Is there a way? Probably not. Damn. Negativity really does plague me now. Oh well. Ill live. Well all live. Living is the way. Its the answer and the way. All the time. Forever and ever. Amen. peace hope and love. Love peace and hair grease. Yuck. I love hair grease. Gesus christ. With a G. like a G6. Bom bom. Might get the hookup tonight. Holla if you hear me. Hell yeah. I love life sometimes. Get to smoke. Follow that bliss shit. Love that

follow your bliss stuff. One in a million awesomeness. Loving it. All the time type shit. Everyday. But what to do what to do. Who knows. Can I tell you one thing? Just one thing? Maybe just something? Who knows. Ah. Sun is shining today. Big time shining. Must I slow down? Slow down the write? Get it right? Probably. Slowing down is a sign of age. Im not aging. Im getting younger all the time. All the time. For real. every time. All the time. She love me. Who love you? No one love you. You are lousy. You are dreadful. What woman would love you? Not a one. Its horrendous. I hate it. I love it. Its all too powerful. every time. Forever and ever. Amen. I guess. I dont know. Life is just too wild. Too auspicious. Too atrocious. Too much awesome for me. Too much goodness. Too much deliberation. Agh. How I hate. How I loathe. How I grow tears. How life has evolved over all these years. Forever and ever. For some reason. The genius of a young man in his age. Man. Im all out of words. Winded. Masturbated. Just a bad time all around. She wasnt even that good either. But I had a good time. It was all good. I loved it. Forevermore. I guess. Im not sure. I cant decide. Itll never work out this time. Its all pretty plain to see. But I guess Im on the losing side of things. Ill figure it out one day. Itll all come together. But seriously, my sentences need to be longer. Every time. And I need to quit repeating things like I do. Its kind of silly. It might work sometimes but to blunted effect. You need to stay sharp. As a tack. All the time. Over and over again. Until you get it right. Which you will. You must. Thats just the way it is, son. every time. Man. Yeah buddy. Shew doggy boy. Too tired. Too stressed. Must write. 10,000 hours will never come at this pace. Takes at least ten years. Itll probably take me twenty. Twenty is an awful lot of years. Even if I dont get it in, Ill at least be able to say that I tried hard. For we all try hard for different reasons. All the time. Forever and ever. Things of this nature and that. Itll all work out. I promise. Things will come together. The literary agent will love my manuscript and offer it for publication. Shell love me and Ill love her and well be friends forever and ever. Its just that simple and silly. Lovely isnt it? Ha. If only it all worked out that way. I guess. Im not sure. Things just glue themselves together sometimes. Somehow. Some way. Theres got to be a better way. Well get it figured out. And if we dont, well then well be okay. Life wont be this tough in the future. Itll all work out. Forever. I swear by it. Itll just have to work out. Thats just the way it is. I love it. Made a lot of niggas hate it. Niggas so full of hate. every time. But niggas so full of love. I love it. And Im not even supposed to say nigga. Nigga nigga nigga. Its such a fun word though. Its so forbidden. I love it. Made a lot of yall love it. Man. Nothing to say. Nothing going nothing did. Wanted school but now Im having second thoughts about the whole process. Its all just a matter of fear and faith and hope. I mean, I have no idea how to make it on my own. Im just not rejuvenated like I once was. Rejuvenation is such a key element in the jimmy Osbourne program for success. I guarantee it. But if no rejuvenation, no success. Its that simple. Works 50% of the time, every time. Just like that. Wish I would. Wish I could. Need to learn how to write again. Writing is such an unknown craft to me. Ill never fully understand it. Its so monstrous. I love it. Its this big ugly sport that no one seems to play and its so full of possibilities. Potential. Just check it. Just love it. Man I miss that old iowa city. It was the best. I miss Illinois and Indiana and Minnesota and all them states out there. They were like friends and family to me. But now Im empty. Im cold. Im old. It doesnt work anymore. Things are temporary. Very few things last forever. I can never make a good thing work for a very long time. Maybe I can with writing but thats about it. I guess. Im not sure. Its all so meticulous. So threaded together ever-so neatly. every time. Who knows though. Its all so conflated. I love it so. Man. Too tired. Writing takes a lot out of us. But its still worth it. Searching for the right words isnt easy. Always have to make a sentence out of thought. No phrases. No incomplete thoughts. It all has to be so organized and neat. And I love it for that. But it needs improvement. Im not sure how to improve the craft, or the art, of writing but I will attempt to do so. It needs pinache. It needs spunk. It needs flavor. It has to compete with music. It has to flow. Have rhythm and blues. A melody. A sing-song approach to life. It has to function like a mathematical equation. Or just let music compete with itself. Some songs just carry me away. I cant compete with music. Was I crazy? Who knows. I hope so. I hope I am crazy. Just to prove everyone wrong about everything. Yet again. Nah. I dont know. Things are crazy. This song is crazy. Lullaby by Priscilla ahn. What a song. What a way to go. Just kind of takes me along for the ride. I hate it. Just takes me.

So writing is my nemesis now. Ill never reach that 10,000 hour mark. Its so hard. I dont log in the hours but I do know that it takes a long time. Hopefully Ill be able to feel and to know and to see that my work is outlier worthy after about five years. And then ten years even more so. And then after fifteen and twenty years Ill hopefully have reached the mark. I cant wait. Sounds too exciting. Geezuz. I masturbated and now Im really tired. I only wish that there were more opportunities for physical exercise. Its so hard to get that twenty minutes in. theyll just have to see how hard it is to accomplish. I dont know. Things are righteous. Somehow or another. Things are just rightfully set in motion. Theyre good to go probably. Somehow. Someway. For somebody. Somewhere. Soma. Love that word sawm. I dont know. Too much mythology for me I guess. Hehe haha. Tweedle dee. So on and so forth. Howsoever it is supposed to be. Too tired. Too hard to get anything in motion. To get anything done. To have accomplished. I dont think that is what my life is for. I think I was meant for pleasure, joy, virtue, and a harsh environment. Something like that. They Move on Tracks of Never- by This Will Destroy You. Decent song. Theres a lot of good things out in the world. You just have to find them. I hate writing down songs. Wish I didnt write down that one. Its so annoying to the reader. Probably. I dont know. Who really knows anything for sure. For certain. I dont know. Things will get better. Ill never get that doctorate. Im too scared of school. Im too old. Ill never fit in. Ill never be motivated. I wont get my work done. It just wont happen all that well. It wont be smooth. Itll be rough as fuck. So on and so forth. Never thought Id be a writer. Just a boy living a dream. Never thought Id be this clever. Never thought Id see the day that Iwell I dont know. Im too stupid, yes? Where is my mind by the pixies. Another killer song. For some reason. What can I do. What can ever help me. Is there anything out there for me. Is there anyone I can trust. Probably. Theres trust out there somewhere. You just have to believe. For one reason or another. Wish I could write. Writing is difficult. I mean it. Never become a writer kids. Be something different. Something better. Theres a million professions our there that have a supreme edge over the writer. Once you find it let me know. I might want to be it too. Because seriously, writing has to be like the best occupation ever. Not sure if the wind is blowing or if someone is in the house. Kind of paranoid. Like really paranoid. Heard footsteps. For some reason. Who knows. Extraterrestrials? No clue. Nothing going on. Nothing worth telling. Lawnmowers out in the distance. Unknown noises of the house have me pretty spooked. Not sure what to make of it. Probably nothing. Welp, thats all Im good for. No more writing for this fella. Writing. Again. Hating all that writing. Writing makes me very sleepy. Ah jesus. What is it good for anyway. Is there anyone out there. Can I do anything. Is there anything that exists. Its all so empty. Its all so fragile. So delicate. So splendorous. I guess. I dont know. Man my mind has to be going insane by now. Lack of depth. Lack of life. Lack of theories. Just a plain old lack of anything. Youve got to find a way to bring things to you. Easy as that. Money. Work equals money. Buy things with money. Easy as that. Every time. Too tired. Want sleep. Cant find sleep. Want solace. No solace. No rest. No escape. No anything. Just trapped in my little prison cell of a room. Forever and always. Never to escape. Never to break out. This is inhumane. How do I fix this? The same things over and over just dont work. We have to continue to work. We have to continue to make money. Simple as that. every time. For ever and ever. And ever. So on and so forth. But there ya have it. Its over. Ill never end. It has to end. Sometime. Like now? No. maybe some day. Maybe well all be friends on that day. Maybe itll all just work out for the best. Again and again. The best. I love being the best. At least in my book. Im always the best. Now and forever more amen. gesus christ. Will I go back to school in the fall? yes. I have to. Ill be more prepared. Ill be waiting. Ill be ready. Life will give me a big thumbs up. Every time. Itll all work out. It has to. I guess anyway. What if it doesnt work out. Then what will I do. What will become of me. Who will I be then? Identity crisis I tell you. Nothing small about it. I need to know who I am and what I do. Geezuz christ. Its just this simple. Every time. All the time. Forever and ever amen. but still, whats it all worth. I have no idea. Not even the slightest. I dont know how to earn a bachelors on my own and I sure as hell dont know how to get a

masters or a doctorate. Its just a matter of not knowing anything. And not wanting to. Knowledge is the devil. It infects. It plagues. Its a bad influence. Again and again. But thats no big deal, right? Blasphemy. Geezuz. Lucys in the sky with diamonds. Better watch out. She might prick you. Theyre rose diamonds by the way. I called it. Like I called shotgun. Its just like that. Writing is tough. I dont like it anymore. Except its my only hope. Its technically the only thing I have going for me. Just like that. Especially. I guess. Im not sure. Writing at this age is troublesome. Everyone wants to know what youre doing and then you have to tell them and then you lose the urge to write anymore. Its just that simple. I hate it. But anyways, life is beautiful. It can be all right but it can be disastrous. It can be downright awesome but equally horrible. I dont agree with the divisions and oppositions. Had a dream last night. Coury or Debbie were telling the story of my life and trying to figure it out. And as they were doing so, I was reliving the experience as the story was being told. And then I was sent to a house where I found them and then went to the basement where I found the people that made starbursts. They were like green martians with big heads. Then I ran into corys mom in the front yard and cory. Cory didnt talk much. Cory never talks much. It never really works out all that well. Never. But yeah, thats the dream. What a dream. Hatred for dreams. .theyre too confusing. Had a time when I could differentiate dreams from reality but then the dreams werent so sure they wanted me on that plane so they confused me with several dreams within dreams as though I couldnt wake up. It was very mind bending. I was also on a plane where it was difficult to move. So I decided to dream in my old style of dreaming and I havent looked back since. Its been heaven. Shew wee bob. I am tired. Didnt get my hookup today. I think he just decided to say fuck you and not respond to any of my texts or messages. What baloney. Or maybe something happened today. I dont know. I can never know. Nor tell. People are a mystery to me for the most part. Its just so troublesome. So heartbreaking. I hate it all to pieces. Its all so tormenting. So arbitrary. So riddled with evil. So on and so forth. Ill never truly understand life. It will just have to go on. It stopped one day. But that was for death. September 11 of that fateful year. One year after the turn of the century. Shouldve seen it coming. Planes crashing into buildings. Buildings collapsing. Nothing went on those two days. Everything stopped. Nobody cared about anything but that on that day alone. It was horrible. And here I am complaining about my life. At least I still have one, yes? Maybe. Its hard to tell. The countryside is boring. Compares nothing to the city. So much life in the city. A man can get up and walk around if he wants. He can go and visit things and places without having an excuse. Its all just doomed. All of it has been sent to hell. Just for the fun of it. What a day. What a life. Id commit suicide but its just against my nature. Id end it right here right now but I just couldnt do it. Lungs still wanna breathe. Heart still wants to beat. Im not one to stop either of those things from happening. I might not be the best human alive but Im doing what I can. Im no Lance Armstrong but I know that Im a Jimmy Osbourne. I wonder what its like to be somebody else. For a day. Or two. Just depends. Id like to be a really fat sad person for a day. Or a really over-achieving goodlooking person. Things of that nature. But I can only stay me. Sadly. I am that fat sad person. I am that over-achieving good-looking person. I guess. I dont know. Im probably somewhere in between. More on the fat and sad though. I dont know. I feel healthy here and there. Who knows. I just want to go to school. I want to get my degree in something but I dont know what. Im just as clueless as ever. Its all so difficult. Never in my wildest dreams did I think Id be living my dream. Staying at home and writing oodles and oodles of pages about everything. Why here, though? Why not somewhere else? Why not for some other reason? Why these circumstances? Who knows. The answers never come immediately. Just know that. Man. Nothing to do. Nothing. Absolutely nothing to do. Things get messed up. Over and over again. Its all just a matter of time. Wish I had my dope. But no. no dope. Nothing. Not even hope for it. Just a big mess of nobody cares. I hate when nobody cares for nothing or anybody. Its all so messed up. Welp, thats all the writing Im good for. Sayonara. Writing is a secret pleasure of mine. I suppose. I dont know. Im tired of writing. I want something else to

do. Something better. Something greater. But what would that be? How could I make it be anything? Is there anything to make anything better? Probably not. But who cares right? Who even knows. I know that I dont know. Writing makes me want to quit all scholastics now and forever more for some reason. Scholasticism just doesnt appeal to me. Im more of your music and arts guy. Writing and reading. Learning without the teach. I guess. Im not sure. I like life the way it is. I really wouldnt change a thing. I dont suppose. I mean who really knows anything about anything? I know that I dont. does that make me a Socrates? Who knows. I dont know. Me no know. Me never know. So. What is there to write about. I want Gloria but I cannot attain. Even the things that I could once attain I now can no longer attain. What sorrow. Its like Iowa just took me out of this rhythm. This flow that I once had developed here in the recesses of central Kentucky. I was once in tune but now Im missing a beat. But thats about as good as it gets isnt it? Who knows. Apathy plagues me. Have to see how long my computer can last on low battery. Once heard that typing your notes is better than writing them. I like the sound of that. There is the one problem of battery usage. Plus Im playing a song. I dont know if that has anything to do with battery usage but there ya go. But what are you going to do? What can you do? What is there to do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing to do. Be there. Is there. Will there ever be. Jimmy tired. Jimmy need rest. For one reason or another. I guess. Im not sure. Life is just too complicated. Every time of the day. Life is just too cumbersome. Every time. All the time. All day. Everyday. For real. Every time. All the time. Cold War Kids. Good song. Listening to music whilst writing. One of my favorite pastimes. I suppose. But then again, what else is there to do? Nothing. And I have no clue. Yet again. Id do more research but I lack the skills and resources required for such tasks. Life is trivial. Why cant scholars see this. Why investigate everything when it is known that we are merely born to die. Argh. What cruel intentions are beset in my mind. What cruel notions. There is beauty in life. There is greatness. One can attain great things. If one wishes. Its almost too complicated. Its almost too wild. Too harsh. But then again, what have ye? I have no idea. Its all so complicated. Easter is tomorrow. Im definitely not excited. Never was I nor will I ever be. Jesus christ. I grieve for my family. Never do they seem like a good resource for me to conspire with. Always too awkward. Always too reflective. Not good enough for me. Never will they ever be. I guess. I dont know. Ill never figure out these things. Just got an advertisement for unlimited service unless the Mayans were right. Thats my big dilemma. Will the Mayans be right? Will it be the end of the world? Whos to say. Who really knows. How does one read signs and such? Ill never know. These things are almost best left undiscovered. This computer can actually go a relatively long time without the battery draining. Love it. Live it. Freedom. Ah. Life. What else is there? What can there be? Why am I so worried? So troubled? So cumbersome? Why do I ask so many questions? Is there any point to this incessant nonsense? I tire of questions. They are boring. They do not provide the reader with enough goodness. Never will they ever. Writing is very tiring. I hate it. I want less of it. What of it. What can there be. Is there anything good in all the histories of the universe? Can I get any good out of life at this point? Probably not. I mean, what really counts anymore? I mean Im helpless here. I cant do shit for anybody. Im barely a decent writer. I mean seriously, is there anything more that I can write? Am I writing clearly enough? Is there anything left for me? Jesus christ. Theres just nothing left. Its all been done. What else is there? Geez. Plus the song that is playing is pretty bad. Once the song gets going good then the writing goes well as well. Or close to it. Want to go on vacation so bad. For some reason. Want a good education but lack the tenacity. What a good life but lack the vision. Want a good wife but lack the credentials. Every time. The Anchorman has me hooked on that line about sex panther. Just cant get it out of my head. Shew wee bob. Want more out of life. Wont get it. Never will I ever. But theres got to be something out there. Theres got to be something I can relate to or have. Something has to let me in. something has to be for real. Something has to be for the greater good. Every time right? Who knows. Ill never really understand. These little things they call life are just so trifling. I cant wait until 4 weeks. Theyll tell me how the book is. And Ill be like, hell yes. They told me how the book is. I just hope theres a lot of money wrapped into it. Thats my main hope. But then again, what have I got to lose? Only my dignity. My dignity has been damaged and torn apart piece by little piece so many times. Im surprised I even know what it is anymore. Dignity. Diginitas. Something like that. But really. What else is there. Theres got to be something more. But jesus what else is there. What can

there be? What can I get from this life? How am I supposed to live. What am I supposed to do. To seek. To be. To feel. How am I going to react to anything in the world? Is there anything to like about such an existence? Argh. How I hate. How I loathe. How I cannot get the writing on the page that I desire. How I will just have to settle for less. So this is it. This is how I write. This is how its going to be. Personal narratives. Over and over again. Jesus christ. What hells Ill have to go through. Man oh man. Shew wee. What a thrill Ill have. What a way to go. What a time to see. What a thing to have done. Geezuz. What else is there. What can I do. I cant do anything. My options are limited. Very limited. Almost straight and narrow. Almost perfectly so. Whats the deal with that? I dont know. Theres got to be something going on. Oh well. What else is there. What can there be. What will there be? What will strive to exist? Who really knows. I dont know. Life is trivial. Life is just too much for one man. every time. Man. Im all out of steam. Somehow have to rejuvenate. Recuperate. All of the above. Miss my love from Europe. Never will I ever see her again ever. She was one in a hundred. Cant find too many like that. But oh well. No big worries there. Nothing to feel bad about. Nothing to really get off about. Such and such a life is mine. I get into big trouble and I cant help it. Life is just too serious. Too mediocre. I hate life. Geezuz I hate it all. Once filled with love I was ignorant. Now I am filled with hate and experience. There is no love. We only hate. Love is for the unfortunate. Hate is for the powerful. There is powerful love but what chance has it? It stands alone. Nothing for it to cling onto. I think the computer passes the test. Hell yeah. Welcome to the note taking club. All the time. every time. Forever and ever. Shit yes. I believe that that is all the writing that I can conjure up for the night. Good night. Have a happy Easter. Unless I can conjure up some more. Though I really doubt that I can. To write is hell. Its sinful. Its not good enough. But theres got to be some good with it. Theres got to be something in this life that is good enough for the whole of the universe. Wish I lived in a better society. Or at least a different society. See how it is for a while. Oh comfort zone, how I wish to leave thee. Jesus christ. Too tired to concentrate. Ready to go back to school. Ready for life again. Ready to go to uk or u of l. Im unsure. I think it all depends on what kind of cards Im dealt between now and the time it comes to get things done. To do some business. I guess. Per se. Im not sure. But what is there. Im going to decide to type some notes. Hes hanging his curtains in his house. Pain gets worse. Doctor not sure what it is. Ivan wants know serious. Hes dying. He cant grasp that concept. What is his illness? Cause was the fall from the ladder. Tolstoy doesnt tell us that. Event beyond all explanations. Ivan cant conceptualize this experience. Not a question of appendix or kidney but of life and death. There was light now darkness. Now Im here now Im going there. Where are we going? Where did we come from? Ivan must confront these questions. We have to confront that it on our own. Keeps repeating word it. Also means she in Russian. Boring. Cant quite do that shit. Need to write bigger things. Better things. Things that are just so subliminally awesome that no one can describe. Must have the music for the writing. Thats just a rule of thumb for me. Must be music for writing. No music. No writing. Happy easter everybody. Hooray for me. Hooray for you. Hooray for everyone. Get a clue. Harharharharhar. Man. Im all talked out. Im all listened out. Im all but finished. Dead to the world. Just plain ignorant. All the time forevermore. Like never. But what is there really. Who knows. Will anything ever co-exist with me? Am I good enough? Is there anything good enough left in life? Probably not. Im not really sure though. Ill never really understand. Life as a whole has corrupted me. Ill never forgive it. Ill never feel betrayed. Ill never truly get what it is that I seek. What a wild life this has been for me. What an adventure. What potential my future holds. What awesome retices lurk beneath the surface. I type every minute I can get. Anytime I feel like it, I write. Must work like dog to get where Im going. Must. But how is another thing. Work is tough but it is necessary. Money is a necessity. Especially in this life. In this country. In this economy. Over and over again. Too many distractions. Music doesnt cooperate with the writing syndrome. Never will it ever. Man Im tired. No more work. No more school. No more stupid teachers or boring rules. My babys on the level. Level by the Raconteurs. What a song. Not really. What can I do. What is there for me to accomplish. Ive not a clue.

Honey you, are a rock. Upon which I stand. And Ive come here to talk. I hope you understand. Cause green eyes. Yeah the spotlight shine upon you. And how could anybody deny you? I came here with a .and it feels so much lighter than when I met you. And honey you should know that I could never go on without you. Green eyes. By coldplay. I bet they worked like dogs too. What a world we exist in. just random things going on all at once doing all sorts of activities. All the time. Forever and ever. How I wish I could have had her. How I wish she could have been mine. Rejection. Sweet memories. Just plain old cant do attitude. Obstinacy. Ft. Knox bangs on heavens door again. Not sure how or why but damn theyre knocking hard today. For some reason or another. Jesus christ. What to write what to write. Need to speed up. Get it going. Flow it up. Have it going. Come. Stop. Go. Pennzoil. How I miss television. We once had it but now it is gone. Once and for all. For some reason. Jesus christ. How man evolves himself every year. How it all goes to say what it has to say. Earth quakes. Air shakes. What was that noise? Ft. Knox. Who wouldve thunk that a big old base of gold would have so many guns that go boom? I wouldnt have. What can I do. Who can I become? What is there for me? Who knows? Who really fucking knows? Is there anything to do or anything to become? No. never will there ever be. Prose is a difficult enough thing to compose. I cant see how many people write many other things. Thats just not in the cards for me. Damn, though. Are we at war? Whos to say. What is there to do. Who is there to be. What privacy have I. is there anything that I dont know. Of course there is. What can I do. Who can I be. What can I wear. I do declare. I would like an clair. Por favor senor. Over and over again. But what is it to me? Who knows. What is there? What can I say? Has everyone had a happy day? Is there another day? I do declare. What is there for anyone, for everyone, everywhere. Ive not a clue. Not a stair. Not a hair of evidence on anything. Isnt that awful? Do I speak the truth? I try to. Its so hard. Truth is something special that we all must master one day. Im not sure if Ive quite done it. Its all so confusing. I cant even do it anymore. Its all so damned exciting. I hate it all to tears. What the hell am I doing here in the first place? Who knows. What is there to do? For anyone? To anyone? For anything? For everything for greeds sake? Is there anything to do? Is there anywhere to go? Can I get anything off of the ground? Isnt it all just a big lunar cycle? Who knows. Isnt it all just something that Ive yet to encounter? Probably. I dont know. I really cant understand. Understanding is hard. Anything is hard in the end. Everything aint right. I could never really get it right. What am I saying. Ive gone crazy. Insane I tells ya. I must slow down. But I cant slow down. This is my writing practice. I must practice writing. Writing is my hobby. Its my habit. Its just what I do. Forever and ever. For some reason or another. But then again what else have ye. Now this is a good song. Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels) by Arcade Fire. For some reason. It just has that panache. What can I say though. I need to go to my Grandmas and eat but what if I dont make it. What if its cold by the time I get there? Who knows. Who cares. Who really gives a darn? I dont. well I do. This is my writing. It should appear as pure gold to the reader. If it doesnt then theres something wrong with the writer, namely, me. Well get that all figured out once Ive reached 10,000 hours though. Thatll help. Over and over again. Forever and evermore. Geez. I really need to go. Ill go after this song. Looks like Ill have to work extra to keep up with the three page deadline. Love that habit. Such an easy thing to do. Lovely dovely all the time. Forever and ever. But theres just something about me that doesnt necessarily bring out the best in people. Which is what I want to do. But its so difficult, I guess. Or at least I think. I mean things just arent as easy as they once were is all Im saying. Thats the tough part about it all. Every time. Forever. I mean it. Things are just as crazy as they come. But I can handle. I can always handle all the misdirection and play-action. Now the song is done and I must depart. Its been a real pleasure but now I must go. Thank you all thank you so much. Its been an honor. A real treat. Bye-bye now. Bye-bye! To write. To be write. To be the writer. To righter. To right her. To be withered. To wither. To go on and on like this until something better comes along. Again and again. So I write. Eventually Ill get it right. Eventually. But todays a new day. Tomorrows another new day. The way I write. How should I write.

Writing is another thing. Its just another thing. Theres nothing to fear about writing. I guess. I dont know. I drank too much at easter. Whiskey that is. Whiskey is a plague. Its a poison. Herb is a plant. Its medicinal. I love it. I want more of it. I try so hard I cant rise above it. But writing. Yeah buddy. Love writing. Writing is the awesome of the world. I love it. Cant get enough of it. But theres something about it all. Must do it for all time. Must be the best. Must be the greatest. Must be good. Must do all of the right things that lead up to the best writing career ever. A great writing career. Im gonna get paid for my book. I can feel it. Its just going to work out that way. I know it is. Thats just the way it is. Damn. Have to figure out something to write about. Theres never really anything to write about. I want to write fiction but the imagination has been crippled. Too many rigorous studies. LikeCate was a woman. She had blue eyes and carried a bonnet. This was set in the 1800s. But we can go back and forth through time because time machines have been invented. Therefore, its a science fiction novel. But fiction nonetheless. She had a husband named Jake. He had a snake that he liked to pet. It was a python. By that time, the 1800s, pythons were common pets. They lived in the great out West. The wild wild west that is. They had a dog and eight children. Raised them all themselves. Milk and everything. Had about a thousand neighbors all burrowed in the cliff-hills of Montana. Actually it was more like Arizona. These were the two out west states at the time and had to battle for borders. One month their side would be Arizona and the next it would be Montana. But at that particular time in history, Montana had won enough land from Arizona to claim the majority of rights. That is, the majority of votes from delegates to favor Montana as the prevailing state more so than Arizona. It wasnt exactly a Civil War either. After so many time travels, the Arabs had found a way to invade Arizona and compacted the majority of Americans into Montana. The Mexicans owned the rest of America. Luckily, they treated Americans like Native Americans and gave them their own reservation. Anywho, Cate was the leader of the final revolution from the Americans. When she wasnt pregnant she was always gun-toting. every time. And thats about all Ive got on that part of the story. Jake wasnt much help to Cate. He just wanted to go back to Kentucky. But the Hispanics gave Kentucky to the Colombians. And instead of cocaine the Colombians invested in marijuana and tobacco. Much like the Kentuckians before them. They even legalized it and called it medicinal. California at this time had completely legalized it for all recreational purposes. The only bad thing was that it had Mexicans too. It was pretty much assured that the Americans were going to have to forfeit and surrender the rest of Montana seeing as the Mexicans sided with the Arabians. But Cate never lost hope. She was, in fact, the last remaining hope for Americans. No woman at that time could produce as many babies as she had. Most were limited to one or two, much below the average level for the continuance of society which was 2.1 per couple. Anywho. They found a way to be peaceful. End of story. I just cant do fiction. Its not my cup of tea. Its not the way I do things. I just cant do it. The plot gets so complicated and the characters are just dull as shit. What can men and women do to regain the U.S.? Ive pretty much set the impossible task for them. Except theyve got time machines so they can pretty much do whatever they wish. If only they could find the right formula. The 1800s were of course one side of the story. Every other facet was normal and regular. But it was the 1800s that really saw a lot of trouble coming from the time machinists. But I cant write like this. Its too complicated. Theres just no way. Too mentally straining. Thats the story anyway. Its already been told. The Arabs took up the old methods of Cowboys and gun slingers. The Mexicans basically worked the land that they came to live on. The Mexicans were basically peaceful. It was the Turkish Muslims who were the worst. The only European Arab nation. I suppose. I could be wrong. But thats about all Ive got. I need to go play nba2k11. Cya. Writing is a habit. Love it or leave it. every time. Realize that I would not be a good match for Debbie or Gloria. Probably not even Ellen or Nicole. I dont know who my wife would be. Or has to be it. Or will be. Or anything. I know its not these people. These people just wouldnt have me. Thats just the plain and simple truth. My head hurts. Writing is hard. Played too many video games. Like always. Jesus christ I feel like shit tacos. Typing is a skill that I need to pick up somewhere. Its just too hard to pick up. Ill never get good at this stuff. Never I say. Writing is the worst. Why would I ever pick it up as something that I would like to do for a living? Pandora. Hahaha. Man I feel so sick. I hate when I get so into something that I cant put it down and then

things start to get ugly. every time. I hate it. I hate my life. Every time. What can I do. What is there to do. I ahte my life. Life is hatred. Scumbags exist. I hate scumbags. What is there for real. What can I do. What is there for me. Who can there be. Is anything worth anything anymore. Probably not. I mean what the fuck is going on anymore. I can never tell. Ill never tell. Nothing will ever go right or happen for me in the right way. Geezuz christ. I hate writing. Cant even transcribe real events anymore. More of a free writer. Just write down whatever. Thats the way it is. Thats how I roll. every time. But its got to get better. Somehow it has to get better. But thats just the way I am. I cant decide who I am anymore. Can you? Its all so sadistic. So pessimistic. So deep. I wish I were better at everything in general. That would be awesome. I think. I dont know. I think that would just be sort of cool. Not one hundred percent cool but just sort of. Education offers too much. We only need what were looking for. And were not even for sure what that is yet. Its just a big dilemma. every time. But who knows. What can I say. What is there to say. Is there anything for anyone. Can I get it done the right way? Who knows. Its all just a matter of mediocrity to me anymore. Ive got to find a way to make writing fun. It used to be fun. It used to be a craft. Now Its more or less work. Its something that I have to do in order to stay in the game. Im not sure how to be good at this game and Im in drastic need of more help. Please help me, God. For some reason. I want to go back to school but Im not sure why. I think I can get more done at home but Im probably mistaken. Im mistaken about a lot of things. I thought I could get things right the first time but apparently the first time isnt good enough. But who knows. Once you find a good thing all you want is more of it. So theres always the danger of the good things being burnt out. But sleep never gets old. Everyone loves sleep. At least I do. Its such a refuge. Hides me away for a good while. I think thats all Im able to write right now. Thats all Im good for. Eye keeps twitching. Cant stop the twitching. Damn contact is not letting it breathe properly or something. Jesus. Damn. Failure is such a hard aspect of life. I hate failing. But its not that bad. We get over it. It happens better the next time around. I am king of the universe. Hahaha. Yeah right. Typing. Writing. Nah. I wont start like that anymore. Unless I have to. Which I must. Somehow. Someway. For some reason. Man. Need to find a new way of doing things. Want to have sex. Want to get a boner. Want to just fuck and fuck and fuck. Might get the chance this summer. Who knows. That would be nice I guess. I dont know. Fucking is just another sport that Im not too good at initiating in. I guess. I dont know. Man. I just need to type more. Just like this. Just for no reason at all. For some reason. One reason or another. Its always hard to say. Im never sure of what to do. Its all so frisky. Its never fundamental. I hate it all. I wish it would all burn in hell. every time. All the time. Forever and ever amen. jesus christ. I mean it. What the hell good is it? I dont know. But who knows. What good does it do anyone? Am I good at anything? Who cares? Does it really effing matter? Probably not. I dont know. Life is kind of wicked. Kind of wild. Kind of bad. Kind of good. Its all so misunderstood. I hate it all. In fact, life is just another dream out to get me. Just like IT in that one Stephen King movie. Its always out to get me. I hate it like that. Wish it werent like that. But who knows. What is there. What can there be. What am I to do. Who is to say. Is there anything left to do? Do I have the slightest clue about anything? Probably not. I cant decide. Its all preposterous anyway. I hate it all. I wish it would all just melt into pieces. Go into smithereens. Every time. Shew writing. How I wish I could break up with you. You are somehow my only way into oblivion. You are somehow the only way Ill be able to make a decent living. You know, not just living at home with the parents. Doing something. Somehow. For somebody. If only they liked my writing. If only I could get people to read again. But I cant. Im unstable. Not steady. Its all just a wonderful dream. It really is. For one reason or another. Who knows. Ill never figure this shit out. Please forgive me lord. Master splinter. Hahaha. Yeah right. A rat for a master. Like Id be a turtle. A rat for a master. No chance in hell. No way man. Never would it ever happen. But then again who really gives a flying fuck. Who gives a shit. I dont know. Ill never figure these things out. They all happen so fast. Its all so wild. Jesus christ. First and foremost. Im pissed off. For every reason in the daggone book. Every time. For ever miniscule reason. Forevermore. Jesus christ. What good is it all. Ill never figure out the meaning of life. I think its all just a matter of chance anymore anyway. I dont know. I couldnt really tell you. But who really gives a flying fuck. Not that I care. Never will I ever care for another living soul. For another human being. Except ellen scott. Id fuck the living shit out of her. Forever and ever. For a very long time. It wouldnt hurt a bit. It would be quite pleasurable. For both me and her. I just have to figure out a way for her to agree to it. Thats the tricky part. Every time. I hate it. Its the worst. I just cant figure anything out anymore. Its never the way I envision it. Its never the way it ought to be. Its never the way I see it. Or as I see it. Its almost as

though my vision matters to no one. I hate it. I just wish it would go away. Forever and ever. But jesus christ it just stays with you and never lets you go. For heavens sake. Goodness gracious. But what else is there out there. Ill never know. Ill never understand. Ill never get it right. But never say never. Ill say never all the time if I have to. every time. But what else is there. Theres nothing. Its all gone kaput. every time. Every bit of it. All the time. Every square inch. Jesus christ. I hate it all. Fuck em all to hell. Why wont it just go away. Why wont they ever leave me alone. I hate em all. Id fuck some of them but I wish they would all burn in hell. I suppose. I dont know. What a life it is. What a year. What a time. What a hell. What a bad time. What misery. What am I talking about? Is there anything left for me? No. never will there ever be. Never will I ever be satisfied. Its all just a warble jarble anymore. I just wish it would all go away. All the time. Everyday. Every second. But it wont. never would. Never could. Its all just over. Jesus christ. What am I good for. Who gives a flying fuck. Nobodys good for anything anymore. The constitution needs to be re-written. Its outdated. The holocaust was a warning to the rest of the world. Never step out of line. The human impulse is to blame whoever is at fault. That person not being themselves. Every time this happens. But there is such a thing as blame and blame-worthiness. Is there really anything or anyone that is worth being blamed? Probably not. Always look inward. Never look outward. Drugs should be legalized. Every last one of them. Obama should be impeached. Trump should run for president. I should be president. Hahaha. Yeah right. Never could I ever. I want to be president. But Ill never reach that mark. Its just not in the plans. Not good at public speaking for one thing. Never will I ever be. But what is there. What can I make happen. What can there be. What can I do. What am I good for. Is there anything to do. Anything to become? These are the questions that Ive been lead to ask. What other questions are there. What good do questions do? What purpose do they serve? Is there anything that I can do better? Is my religion a faulty one? Are there savages among us? Have we gone mad? Why do mental health facilities exist? Why has anyone been called crazy? What is the purpose of this book? Ill never understand. I just want it published. I just want to get paid for having written something. Thats all it is. If there were no possibility of money then I would probably not be doing this. Unless, of course, I truly believe in the excellence of writing things out in the open like this. But who knows. What can I say? Listening to country music--my favorite nuisance in the world. It gets pretty distracting. Trying to check my e-mail. Trying to do some good with my life but I perceive it to be more troubling that I initially saw it as. What can I do. What should I do. Who have I become. If only I could look back at all the memories and the years. If only things could be really nice. If only I could have a good time. If only I were friendlier. If only people treated me nicely. If only good things were the reason for everything. If only kindnesses were reported in the news instead of ills. If only good things would always happen. If only but they do not. And thats as fact as the end of the rabbit hole. Man. Tired. Had to mow all that grass. Get nothing out of it. No good ever comes from working for my father. Thats just the way it is. Wish I had some dope. Or some girl. Or something. Just anything to take away the pain. But life is difficult. Every time. But theres got to be something that is good for something. Who knows. I mean it all cant be bad and hateful all the time. The bible teaches us love but all I see is hate. Hatred abounds hatred is prevalent. I just dont understand it. It all just rolls downhill. every time. Forever and ever. I cant believe it. I cant get used to it. I dont understand it. I cant get with it. Turned off the country. Too much of a nuisance. But thats the way it is. Thats just the way it fucking is. Every time. Show em the ins and outs of life johnny. Dont skimp on the details either. Thats the good stuff. every time. All the time. Everyday if it has to. But what is there. What can there be. What am I good for. Am I goofy? Probably not. I just wish I had more education. A better education. But no. tests and papers. Things that are just destructive to the good life. None of it really matters. None of it really goes well anymore. I just dont understand it. Its all so unrelated. Nothing is relative. Its all so different and complicated. But thats just the way it is. Ill never leave it alone. Ill always get things agitated. I am who I am and thats just the way I am. And I hate my father. I will always hate him from this day forward. He is the worst human being I have yet to encounter. My mom comes in at a close second. Sure they provide the bare essentials but theres just nothing after that. Every time. Forever and ever. I hate it. But I do love it. I guess. Im not sure. Kanye on lollipop remix with lil wayne is pretty good. I like it. Wish I had a jump rope. Sure need that jump rope. For some reason that Im unsure of. Man. If only I had the world in the palm of my hand. I dont think I know enough to handle the world. Never would I ever. Never could I ever. Who really fucking knows. I think its all stupid. Its all so messed up. Ill never get it right. Its all so gruesome. Love

it. Live it. Feel it. Grasp it. Just have a way with it. Every time. I think I aspire to be worst than my father just to show him. Life was good until that one fateful day in my bedroom. Thinks he can control my life. Ill have to see about that. Jesus christ. Bad news for everybody. What a day. What a way. What a tragedy. Just a bad mess Ive got myself in. I hate him. I swear by it. I hate everybody. I just do. Its all a matter of bad days and bad news. I just want things to get better. A whole lot better. But they never will. Things get worse with age. Thats just the way it is. I hate it. But love it? Never. Love is for losers. Love is dastardly. Hate is where the real magic is. Gotta love all that hate thats just built up inside. every time. For one reason or the other. Man I hate the hatred. But I do love it. It fuels. It empowers. Its awesome. I think Ill pray for even more of it. Nah. Im not this man full of hatred or love. Im indifferent. I just dont care. It just doesnt matter anymore. Never has it nor will it ever. Jesus christ. Ill never figure this shit out. Never will I ever. What is there to do. What is there to be. Can I ever get anything in this life. Probably not. I give up. I quit. No more writing. Its finished. Writing again. What a day. Alackaday. Joseph. Joseph Kurtz. Everyone in the world. All over the world. Typing words as I please. Clickity clack went the keyboard. I guess. I dont know. Pure exhaustion from mowing yesterday. Just pure exhaustion. Each and every time. Forever and ever amen. drank some Gatorade. Need some water. Need my pills. For without my pills I get heartburn. And probably depression. But who knows. Why would I get depression. Or schizophrenia for that matter. Who knows. Ill never figure anything out this way. I must pick up a certain method for understand huge concepts. But how. And why. And where. Need the internet. Mom is on the phone that makes it impossible to surf the internet. Need an education. Hatred for college. Hatred for professors. Hatred for knowledge. Like I can ever get anything done anymore. Ill never know. Ill never find out. These problems are just too complicated for human knowledge anymore. I mean what good is it anymore. What was education used for anyway. Ill never have a clue. Ill never get it right. Im not that bright. Im not a fullbright scholar. Nothing of the sort. Never will I ever be good at anything. I know I cant do scholastics. Thats just not who I am as a person. I cant do machine work. I cant be anything with technical skills. Im just not much good for anything at this point in time. Thats a guarantee. Thats just the way I am. Forever and ever. But Ill figure out a way out of this whole. Ill be a writer. Thats what Ill do. Scribble down anything and everything. And thats exactly what I do. Just whatever crosses my mind. Its a good way of getting thoughts down thats for sure. But what else is there. Theres got to be something more. Theres gotta be more than this. But what is there. Theres nothing. Theres got to be nothing. Thats just the way it is. For one reason or another. Man. I cant wait till vacation time. Get to look at the pretty women. Do whatever I want. Not have to worry about anything really. I mean what the hell is going on here. Why are things set in stone a certain way. What the hell is the matter. What went wrong. Why did my life take a left turn like it did. Who knows. I hope Michael peterson dies. Hes such a bad person. Filled with evil and hatred. Bout like me I guess. I dont know. He did help me when I was struggling. Helped a lot. Oh well. I still hope he dies. Im just that mean and gruesome. Every time. Forever and ever. Mmm. Heartburn. I hate heartburn. Ever since I got that surgery Ive had heartburn. Got a pill for it though. Not sure why I use it. But there ya go. Thats just the way I am. I guess. That is to say. I remember a time we all went to Kentucky kingdom. The next week, one of us died in a car accident on Springfield highway. Tough times I tell ya. Now, what can I do for you? Is there anything youd like for me to do there for ya missy? No Im fine thanks. Just fill my cup full of sugar. Okey-dokey. Man. I think I can master the Faulkner way of stream of consciousness without having to use the correct format for dialogue but Im not sure. Sounds too far out in left field. Every time. Need a good day. For some reason. Just need a reason to stay above the level. Just need something to help me carry on. To live another day. To see the sun go up and down. Yet again. For no reason at all. Just like that. I mean it. Life is just boring. Its unbearably boring. Existence isnt meant to be anything. I just dont see how we ended up like this and got things the way that we needed them to be. We could never get what we wanted but eventually we do. It works out quicker than you can perceive, I guarantee that. I mean I live in a decent house with decent transportation. But still. All of these things were made because they were of necessity. How do we make things that we dont necessarily need but could prove useful or helpful. It might be wanton but still. I like extravagance. That which exceeds in merit. every time. All the time. If it

does not exceed, then it will not succeed in my book. Players like lebron james and kobe Bryant. They exceed. And they succeed. Thats just the way it is. How to write. How does a great artist make art? I dont know. I wont even try. Thats pitiful isnt it? That I wont even try for the answers? Im stuck on this belief that we are born with all the knowledge that we need to succeed but are too lazy to recall every single aspect. The collective unconscious. Something like that. Found it in plato somewhere. Possibly one of Socrates anecdotes. Shit. What was I trying to do. What was I doing? Who knows. I just want fun. Want a woman that I can dispose of for no particular reason. That would be hot. But it just doesnt happen. For one reason or another. Who knows. Ill never figure these things out on my own. I probably cant even figure them out with assistance. I am a dullard. I am dumb. I cant help it. Its just my lifestyle. Refuse to learn. Refuse to know. To do anything. Im just not good for anything really. Typing is my specialty. For one reason or another. Man though. Tired as shit. Want a big meal. for one reason or another. Not sure what to do about anything. For anyone. for anybody. Not sure what to do. Jesus christ. Too tired to know what to do. Too crazy. Too far gone. Got lost out there in that heat. Mowed too much grass. I hate that grass. Its just wild. Crazy. Not worth anything. I dont think Evans going to message me back for a while. He hasnt for days. I thought I had a good thing going too. Guess not. Anybody they call friend is a curse. Friends are never there when you need them. Theyre never there for nothing. Theyre just curses to make you think that something good might happen but it never does. Delayed gratification played out in another living humans soul. What a life. If only there were deeper and darker things out there to learn about. They just dont provide that everywhere. For whatever reason. I dont know. What the hell. What is really going on? Can there be anything out there that haunts people for real? I want to be that haunt. Ill haunt. Haunted house. every time. Must stretch. Must take pills. I am nothing without my pills anymore. I hate it. Pills are the enemy. I dont know why but there ya have it. Just a bad life planned ahead for me. Oh well. Ive seen worse. Thats just the way of the world. Know a man that has bone marrow cancer. Sometimes people just have it worse and theres nothing you can do for them. Its almost a pleasure to have people that are worse off. I just dont understand it. Its a bit cruel but there ya go. I believe we live in a cruel society. What can we do. What can I do. I mean I think it cruel that I sit here and write without the guarantee of payment. Isnt that cruel? I believe cruelty starts from the parents to the children and then the children buy into the game. Or maybe its the cruelty between men. Knowing and seeing. Or the cruelty of nature. Nature is a cruel beast. Man is cruel alongside it. These are the facts of life. Torture. Torture used to be common. Ive found my way outside of that. Thank you bhagavad gita. But thats about the biggest success of my life. That and nothing but. I dont guess. I dont know. I do know some things but here and there I will find a point of which I know nothing of. And those are disturbing but very necessary. Thats just the way I rolls. Man though. Life is nothing I ever anticipated. School was one thing but now its all about life. I hate it. I dont want it anymore. I cant handle it. Its just bigger than I am. Plain and simple. Writing again. For the plain sake of just doing it. Somehow have to get better at it. Staying with it is the only way I know how. If this doesnt work then I must be doing something wrong. It should work. I just need lots of time and money. Thats all I need. I need the money. every time. All the time. Wish I could just have the money. If no money, no fun. Comprende? Capische? Non capisco. Haha. I speak italiano now. Non parlo italiano. What a world we live in. what a way of life. I think Im too tired for this writing trip. Isnt good enough. For one reason or another. Im not sure. Its all just a matter of patience and will. I guess. I dont know. Have to find a way out of all the messes of the world. Being in a mess is no fun. For some reason my fingers arent cooperating with the keyboard. Feels like a mild form of arthritis. I guess. Im not sure. Need some fun. Fun is hard to come by. Hard to go out and have fun anymore. Fun is for animals. For some reason. Ill never understand the aspects of life. Ill never get things just right. Things will always be messed up. Forever and always. Wish I had Halo. Id play me some Halo today. But I dont. its funny I guess. Just not sure what to with my life. If anything. Its too difficult to come up with anything. Its all so forlorn and hard. Just a big ball of missed opportunities. Every time. All the time. Forever and ever. I hate it. Its all so weird. So bad. So difficult. But thats just the way it is I suppose. But there ya have it. What do you know. Is there anything better than this? Seriously, does it get any better than this? Took my pill and now my heartburn is gone. Works instantly. Works fast too. Loving it. Love it all the time. Forever and ever. But why? And when? And how? And where? Who knows. Shew wee. Too tired for school. I retire

from school. School is no more in the agenda. Never will I ever be good at school. Never will I ever get the type of education that I assumed I would get. But there ya go. Writing. Now thats a curse. I was talking about friendship earlier but its writing thats the real curse. Im supposed to make a profession out of this and somehow, someway, I hate it. For some reason. I just dont understand it. It just doesnt comprehend well with me. Thats just the way it is. But who am I to profess? I know no answer. I have no facts. I am average man. Time and time again. Once and for all type of man. The crazy bug is going around. Dad said it. Said the priest was crazy. Apparently a fear of being crazy. Apparently its a taboo. For one reason or another. Whos to say. I dont know. I think hes crazy. Im probably crazy by using this logic but there ya go. I like crazy. Crazy works. Bad crazy doesnt work. When youre in the deep minority things just dont go right. For one reason or another. I guess. I dont know. Ill never figure anything out on my own. Nor with assistance. Its amazing how these things are these days. Its just amazing. But what can you do. What are you going to do? Is there anything to do? Probably not. But who knows. I mean really. How is life compared to death? How do the two get along with one another? Do they ever? Does it work like this? Who am I to know? Knowledge is reserved for the intellectual. For the intelligent. For the gracious. For people like my old crush and my old girlfriend. Theyre out pursuing their masters. I find that incredible since Ive struggled time and again with my bachelors. what a day I live in. what a way Im in. what a life Ive created. Jesus christ its hardly worth anything. I hate the way that Ive conducted my life. Its all been a big mistake. Just a bad feeling one after the other. Writing literally takes the wind out of ya. These are only thoughts but they do carry some weight, air, and pressure with them. I literally had to take a deep breath to continue writing. Therefore, exercise is needed in order to stay healthy and be a healthy writer. Whos ever heard of a healthy writer? I havent thats for sure. Writers are lazy. Thats just the way we were made to be. Over and over again. Forever and ever. Thats just the way it is. But it will be okay I suppose. Im not sure. Once saw an attractive lass on the university of Kentucky campus. Wish I had stayed to meet with her but then again, what can one do? Theres literally nothing I can do in those situations. Im socially retarded. Ive met this obstacle before and I continue to meet it. Its just a way of my life. But still, who wouldve thought that thinking required air, breath? Oxygen for that matter. I guess its true. Even the simplest tasks in life require effort. Thats all it is. And more complicated ones require larger amounts of effort. Simple as that, right? Damn though. Im all tensed up from typing. What a wonderful world. I want to exercise but I would feel uncomfortable. Im more comfortable with eating anyway. Im hungry. But these things require effort and I am not prepared for much effort. Effort requires force. Im rather lethargic. Might and strength are sometimes wasted. If its not a worthy cause, then Im not in. but thats that. Forever and always. I guess. I dont know. Things get complicated. Ive always hated my life from the get go. Its always been nonsensical. Almost comical. I mean what child really likes his parents? Perhaps if they are wealthy and generous. But those arent the only traits. But still. Id really rather have wealthy and generous parents. Thats just the way of my life. I wouldnt have it any other way. But there ya go. What else have ye? Im only a child. Im a tired child. Rather bored. Rather frustrated. Life just doesnt seem to act right. Ya know? Its all so multi-faceted and favors someone else. Im never favored. Look for the good and procureth favor. every time. But thats pretty difficult. Proverbs are hard to follow. Id rather go in the natural way of my inclinations. I like my inclinations. They have to be good in some way shape or form hadnt they? Jesus christ. Think Im all typed out. Just nothing good coming from anyone. Or anything. Just a bunch of negativity floating around. Over and over again. For one reason or another. I have no clue. Things are just wild as shit. Over and over again. Who knows. Ill never figure anything out. Wish I could. Wish I would. Wish I were raised better. Wish things were for the better and not for the worse. Man. Life just isnt fair anymore. Its just a bunch of bad times over and over again. For one reason or another. Man. I miss my old life. I miss the way it used to be. The small town herd instinct. Now its so much larger than life. Just a big bounce. Just a bad way. Damn though. Bad times are my life. My life consists of the badness. Theres just no way of working around it. Had a dream. Had to gather Christmas gifts and pack my belongings into a duffle bag. Difficult tasks when sleeping and dreaming. Just a bad time for us bad guys. Bad boys gone worse. Remember a time when I went to Nebraska. Thought I would leave my life in search for a better one. didnt happen. Here I am writing about it. Chickened out. Just stupid stuff. couldnt do it. We are nothing without

our amenities. Thats the gist of the argument at hand. Cant type as fast. Brains muscle is fatigued probably involves quick twitch muscles for one reason or another. Wish I had good calves. Some of those negroes can jump. Thats just wild. Some of them worked so hard that their offspring just did really well in athletics. Ill never figure that stuff out. Life is just too complicated. Ill never get it right. Welp, thats all I can do for now. I guess. I dont know. Im tired. Peace out. God I am going to kill my father. Simply this and nothing more. Jesus christ. I mean seriously. There is no metaphysical. There is no god. I have become atheistic. People have made a non-believer out of me. Yet again. Its people that are the curse of humanity. Humanity is a curse unto itself. God I hate how this all happens how it happens. Its just a matter of time before this ticking bomb goes kaboom. Thats all it is. Thats just truth. I mean Im gonna kill my wife or my kids or something because my father is not giving me any opportunities to beat him up. And beating him up wont do it justice. Hes just going to have to die. For one reason or another. But even then the vengeance doesnt end. Theres just no stopping me. Man. This is the worst day of my life. I hate days. I hate nights. I hate it all. I hate my brother. I hate it all. I just hate everything about this life. Everything about the former and the next. Just take me out of existence. Just eliminate me. Poof gone. Forever and ever. Jesus christ. Help me someone. Im gonna go off another cliff. Theres just no end in sight. Theres just no way for me to get out of a total pathway of destruction. I hate it all. Goodness jesus. I mean there is just not going to be any way of going about the good life. Its all full of hate and evil anymore. All souls are bastards and bitches. Naggers and wiggers. Just picture it. Everyone is a hated soul by at least another. Your neighbors? They enemies too. How is this. What is this. What it is? I swear Ill die by something in the brain. Probably a busted vessel. Its just a melancholy world out there. Nothing is ever going to be okay. Its all going to be so fucking outrageous. I hate this life. Nothing good comes from it. Nothing good ever will. Nothing good ever comes from anything. I just hate and hate and hate. But what else is there. Theres got to be something to rely on. Something I can look forward to. Theres got to be something good in this world. Theres got to be something wonderful left in life. Theres just got to be something left in the world. At least he spoke well. He said youre not supposed to be full of vengeance. Or to gain revenge. I vow it though. I will get my revenge. If only I knew how to exact it. I dont though. Nothing good will come my way. Never will it ever. Im just fucked. Were all fucked. Thats the gist of it. Damned if you do, damned if you dont. damn you if you figure out a way to escape that cycle. I better go mow now. Help out my mom and do as my father told me. Damn him. Fuck him. Curse him. Damage his left ear or something. Just take him out of commission. Mercy. I tell ye. Mercy plays no rite around my name anymore. Mercy. doesnt exist anymore. I hate mercy. My nerves are shot. Im freaked out. I think thats what it is. Im just freaked the fuck out. Oh well. Itll get better. It has to get better. Things will be just fine. When I was reading the autobiography of Malcolm x I generally compared myself to his mother, virtually losing every bit of sanity. Its just that kind of environment. I hate it so. Its just a bad scenario up and down. What is there to do? Tie my shoe? Get the flu? Take a poo-poo? Who knows. Im doomed. Its all about the plumage. Every time. All the time. Forever and ever. But what is there really. Is there anything good? Does anything matter to anyone anymore? Possibly. I really have no idea. Do you? Who knows. Knowing is not powerful. Knowledge is weak. I hate it all. I wish I were better at this game. This game isnt for me anymore. Its all just a bunch of pussy shit. I hate pussy shit. I hate everything. Everything hates me. Oh well. Ill live happily. In peace. But what else is there. Who know. I no know. Or, I dont know. But what is there. There must be something. Im always at a loss for words. But thats okay. It works. Ill figure it out. Some day. One day. Maybe not today or tomorrow but sometime. For some reason. What to do what to say. Who to be. I dont have choice. Choices are for the privileged. Choices have never been a very good way of life for me. I hate choice. I hate discipline. I just need a doctor. Like a whole team of doctors. I need all the meds I can get my hands on. Stat. thats just the way I feel. And its not getting better anytime soon. Thats just the way things roll around here. But theres got to be another way. Somehow. Somewhere. Someway. But what else is there. What can I do. What are my options? I think they are in the same category as choices. You have none. This is your career path. Excel at it. Just do it. Excel at it. Writing. Youve known from a very early age. Now improve upon it. Its as easy as that. Just keep at it.

Itll take you somewhere one day. For one reason or another. I dont know. Things are difficult. Everyday. every time. But what else is there. What can I be. What can I do? What is there for me? Nothing? Probably so. I have nothing. Nothing serves me. Thats the gist of it. Ill probably have to weed eat the next time its not raining. Or mow grass with the tractor. None of it sounds very entertaining. I mean what the fuck else is there. Theres just nothing in this world that can satisfy me. Writing is the devil, ya hear? Its the worst a man can do. Its just the worst a man can become. A writer. The lowest of the low. Down there with the filth. Time and time again. Now and forevermore. But what else is there. There must be something out there in the world. I mean, life is just horrible. Es horrible. Over and over. I mean I just hate it. Its pitiful. Its awful. Its the worst thing in the world. And I tell it like it is. Theres just no disputing that. I have to tell it like it is. Thats just how it is. And if I dont then I, as a writer, lose credibility. Its just that simple. But what else is there. There must be something out there to love. To adore. To see as awesome. To be named unstoppable. To be awesome. So on and so forth. But who knows. What else is there. What can there be? What all is allowable in this junction of the universe. Breaking the ten commandments is allowable but if found out, you must face the consequences. And consequences are never good. But I write. And writing is good. It helps. I get my thoughts out in the open. And whether or not someone wants to read them is up to the publisher. I need a good cover before anything good can happen. Shew. Internet connections. Dirty as a mother fucker. Dont really care. Dont know what to do. Cant live anywhere. Cant exist. Cant do anything. Life is just full of misery. Torment. Cruelty. Bad news bears. Allaround. But who knows. It might all turn around one day. I really need to get rid of this navet. But I cant. I mean somehow. Someway. Subway. Ha. Yeah right. Man. Typing is a pest. I hate it. Theres got to be something better I can do with this. To entertain the reader. Word by word. Sentence by sentence. Over and over again until the desired effect is reached. But thats impossible. Ive got enough on my plate as it is. Things are just too complicated. I mean I have to somehow find a way to pay for out of state tuition. Do you know how big of a mistake that was on my part? Big enough. But there ya go. Living life. Thats all it is. Just living life. Over and over again until we get it right. Jesus christ. How I wish how I wish. But theres nothing for me. Nothing to do. Nothing to comprehend. Nothing to just like or love or anything. All is lost. God is dead. Nietzsche once said it. I believe him. Nah. Ive seen God. Scared the shit out of me. Dont know what to make of it either. But there ya have it. Over and over again. Shit. Writing is too hard. Cant stick with it very long. But I must. The minutes make hours and the hours must eventually add up to ten thousand. Et cetera and so on. This is just the way it has to be. I guess. I dont know. Possibly so. Who knows. Life is unfair. Thats just the way it goes. The way it all is. every time. Forever and ever. But theres just got to be something better. Something clearer. Something more spectacular than what there already is. But who knows. I dont know. Im just typing. Just trying to make a living. Anyone trying to make a living never knew anything did they? Shit if I know. Haha! Who knows. I wish I knew. Wish I knew a lot actually. And by heart. But the heart is a tough thing to place a lot of learning upon. Its just too stubborn. Too intellectual. Too complicated. Too intrinsic. Too external. None of it really matters anymore anyway, now does it? I wish I knew. I dont though. Knowledge is power? Puh. Knowledge doesnt help me out at all. Experience is the grand master of this game. The more experience the better. And Im writing for it. Now if only I could afford experience, for the good experiences in this life cost mucho dinero. Time and time again. Over and over. Its all just a repetitive cycle that must be defeated. Never do the same thing twice. I guess. I dont know. I wish I could be sure. To have certainty. To know without hesitation. But then again, I wish I had a woman too. How am I to ever get a woman without a job or a home? Ill never know. Its all so vague to me. Ill never understand anything in this fickle old world of mine. Its all so weird. So fruitless. I hate it. Just want anything that distracts the tar bells out of me. Shew. Bad internet connection. Plagues me. If only I could ever. Man. I just want the good life. And I want it now. For no particular reason. I just want to write and write and write but really, theres just nothing to write about. This is what Ive become though, a demonic writing machine. Good for nothing. Just writing and writing all the while hoping for certain women to allow me into their lives. Just like that. But Ill only find her until the very last minute when all seems to fall into place. And then, only then, will things come together. And thats that. But until then Ill think of myself as a potentially bad father and husband. Probably a bad land owner as well. Argh though. Its all so

demystifying. So irritating. So annoying. Its all so invigorating. But its all so mean. so mad. So disharmonious. So incredible. But theres just no attention left in the day. Theres just nothing left for me anymore. Never will there ever be. Its all so romantic. So democratic. So corrupt. I hate it all to pieces. Its just a bunch of hubris. Agh. Anxiety. I hate it all. Ill never do anything for anybody. Its all just a bunch of marbles to me anymore. But what else is there. Nothing. Theres just nothing left in this world. But there ya go. Nothing for nobody. Not never no how. Shew wee bobby. If only things were better. But theyll never get better. Better is a far off land that no one can ever reach. Its filled with barb wire and tangles of hair that prevent thee from ever attaining. Thats how cruel better is. If it werent then we would call it worse. Thats the gist of it. But what else is there. There is nothing. There is simply this and nothing more. Aargh. How I hate my life. How I deserve better. How I deserve special treatment. All the time. Everyday in fact. But no. special treatment, she never come. She is my lover that knows not how to love. Or forgot. One or the other. But thats all I can write about. My writing day is over. Theres nothing more I can say or do to make anything better. Its over now. Never will it ever be the same ever. Au revoir. Sayonara. Adios mi amigos. If only I couldve entertained you better. If only. Writing again. Nothing to write about again. At least not yet. I can usually find some good things to talk about but theyre usually hard to get to. But thats all right. I like it like this. But what can I do? What is there to do? Who knows. Is there anything out there? I dont know. Can anything good happen? Can I get any help with anything? I need a job. I dont want to work though. I never want to work. Thats why Im a writer. Just write and write and write. No work involved. At least no strenuous labor. But thats okay. I guess. Im not sure. Im not sure why I even exist. Is life more than the product of sex? Probably not. Im just a product of sex. And thats about it. At least they get us educated. Thats always a plus. I guess. Im not sure. But what can there be? Is there anything to have? Is there anything to be? Probably not. But who can say? What is there to do? Probably nothing. Ive got nothing. Life is nothing. If only I could perfect the sentence. Im just not as careful as some of these other writers like Nabokov and Joyce. Im more likeI dont know. Im just like myself. I guess. My style is one that no one can ever pick up on. Its one in a billion. Never will you find it anywhere else. They will say of me, now here is a writer who really cared about the craft. maybe. I doubt it. If I even reach that status Ill be honored. To be known. To be recognized. But then again, what have we? I have no clue. Life must continue. Time is what ails us. Defends us from life eternal. Really, we do live forever. Its a very long time. And when we die its just time to pass on. To exchange this body for another. And so on. So it goes. Damn you Vonnegut. Beat me to punch. Although I guess you deserve it. Risking your butt in Germany. Thats the type of heroics Ill never truly understand. Ill never have experienced. Unless, of course, they start bombing the shit out of America. Which they could. I mean once Chinas economy grows bigger than ours they can just pay other people to attack us. I mean, follow the money. Chinas going to have the money and so China will have more employees for good and evil. Ive always wanted to be an employee for evil. Employees for the cause of good are boring. Been there. Done that. But theres got to be something more to it. I guess. I dont know. Deep breath. Excitement at the keyboard. It is a fun time. It really is. It intrigues and just keeps the reader (me) captivated. I guess every writer has to be his first reader. But the opinion really lies with the second reader. What does he or she think of it? Is it good? Is it bad? Does it suffice? I guess all I really want to say isnothing. Im here to tell the story of nothing. Of how everything needs to be emptied out in order to be truly experienced. In order to taste the burger at the diner, to watch the waitress sweep the floor, to look outside of the window at the passing traffic on the highway, all of these things must be emptied out. Told as nothing as though nothing has really been happening this whole time. For example, I am in my room, as usual, in the dark, typing on a laptop computer. The only things visible are my yellow shirt, the chair, the computer, my hands and forearms, and this electronic fan beside me. And thats it. I have my feet propped up in the chair and my head is beginning to tire, as though I am allowed for sleep. I love sleep. I love it when I am ready for sleep. Sleep is the ultimate. My brother, Jesse, has had a baby. Its very exciting. I guess. I dont know. Im happy for him. This is the one true time that Ive actually been happy for another human soul. What misery. Head hurts. Hard to type. Hard to get anything done. Too stressed out. Just not feeling it. Thats the gist of it. Dont feel like reading. Dont feel like learning. Just feel like relaxing. Enjoying peace. For the moment at least.

But no. stress continues. Theres just too much going on this summer. Ill never get caught up. Its just too stressful. Too many responsibilities. Too many storms for Gods sake. Who can literally survive with all of these storms? I dont know. I want to move far far away from here. For good. Just leave it all behind. Ive witnessed too many acts of violence since Obamas been in office. What seemed good in Iowa was a disaster for Kentucky. I hate how all this has added up. I was supposed to be attending the Writers Workshop by now. But thats just a pipe dream now. Theres just no way Ill make it to any workshop. Except my dads. he has a workshop. But hes a carpenter. Geez louise. Theres just nothing for me to do anymore. Ive done it all. I cant write worth a dickens. I just dont understand it. Its just not holding up anymore. I cant get past my own suckiness. Its all so horrible. I just hate it. What else is there. I hate it. What will there be? What can there be? What is there for anyone? I dont know. Theres nothing for me. I cant do anything. Life is over for me yet I continue to live. It drives me doubly insane. Ugh. But I must write. Must reach 10k hours. Thats just a lot of typing but I can live with it. Its not so much once you get used to it. It works itself out. Somehow. But thats just what Im trying to prove. I guess. I dont know. Ill never figure this shit out. I hate it. Its just not my cup of tea. Its just worth nothing. Nothing at all. For heavens sake. Ill never add up to much. Thats just the way it is. Ill just never add up to anything. Just a particle of dust in the wind. All we are is dust in the wind. Jesus christ. Theres just no sense coming out of me. I wish Kate would write back. I wanted to talk to her. But she no write back. Life disappoints yet again. Nobodys friendly anymore. At least not the way Id like them to be. Its all so messed up. At least I have had two people in the past month message me on face book. That wasnt so bad. They keep me in high spirits. I guess. As much as they can. But there must be something else. Something is definitely missing from my life. I know about five girls that I want to have sex with but theres just no way. It never happens. Not even in the movies. Except for the really crappy ones. But still. What will come at the end of this life? Was I only born to observe? To serve? To exist? I am merely a vessel of oxygen and the such. Luckily theyve taught me to write and I can carry that on forever and ever. But thats not good enough. I need more. Loads more. Gobs more. Just more in general. Or something like that. Ill never get over it though. Its all so cruel. So mean. so unforgiving. But thats just the way it is I suppose. I still cant believe that my parents dont think I can do well in college. Its like they dont support me at all. Its just horrible. I mean I think I can do well but its obvious that they could care less about how well I do. Its rather stifling. I dont like it. I will kill them over. Ha. I wish. Man, though. Killing people over grades and such. Im serious though. Theres just no other way to put it. I was dead serious about attaining a college diploma but now its like I have no moral support. No foundation. Nothing to hold me still when I want to shake. Its just a big drop-off from where Ive wanted to stand. Im a failure. A huge failure in my own eyes. I mean this is the beginning of the rest of my life. Its just not going to work out. Nobody pays me to do anything. Thats just it. No big deal I dont guess. Itll never work out. The odds are just too stacked up. Thats just the way it works. I cant fix this. Time has passed us up. It has said that our parents ruined everything good in the world and now my generation must pay. I am seriously anticipating an invasion of this nation. Ill have to be a refugee. An immigrant. Ill probably move to France or Germany. Thats just how bad itll get. And if theyre under attack then Australia. They seem nice enough. By all means. But damn Im tired. Must retire. The night is young but I grow older. I fatigue easily. Im just ready to die. I ask the lord to give me death but he does not deliver. It just doesnt work for me anymore. Theres just got to be a better religion. Ill find it myself if I have to. Certainly I will. By all means necessary. Porn isnt nearly as good as the real thing. Its amazing how some people will videotape sex and expect to have an audience. Although I dont disagree that porn has its kicks, the real thing is where the payoff is. But I cant find a mate. Besides, Im too fat. Just saying. I would get more muscular but that takes too much money. I cant make that much money. Money to me is too hard to attain. I just cant get enough of it. Never will I ever. But thats another story. Life is horrible. Mine is a shambles. There used to be some good times but now they are all bad. I just dont understand it. It makes no sense to me. But then again, not too many things do. But what have ye? What are ye? Who knows. I dont know. But things could be better. But theyre not. I dont know what to do with anything. Im bored. I could never get a life doing this. Doing this is the worst thing in the world. But I do do it. Its just that simple. But theres got to be more. Theres got to be something else. More than what there really is. I want to go to school but theres just no way that I would make it. No chance in hell. Thats what Ive got. And it can be hell. It is very stressful. Its just not a good combo. Things of that nature. But for some reason it has to work out. Im not sure why but now that you mention it. I dont know how to

finish that sentence. Haha. What a life. What a day. What a waste of time and space. I hate it all. I fear it all. I love it all. I want it all. I think about everything all of the time dont I? maybe. Maybe not. Anything above and beyond the rest is always tried before it is proven true. This is just a fact of life. This does not mean to lessen the height of your aims but to gain strength. To be tough about your stance. To never give in no matter what the consequences. Even if you must face your very death. But perhaps this has been taken too far. Im not one to judge. Though I am. If something ticks me off you better believe Ill judge it. But thats just me. I guess. So to say, and I still dont know how to finish that sentence. Shew, Im cold. Wish I had a better existence. A better life, per se. but I have no clue how to attain. Never in a million years could I ever attain. Its just so far out of reach. I hate it. Itll never be worth anything. Ever. For one reason or another. Who knows. I have no clue. Things could be better is all Im saying. Theres no worse about it. Ive been to hell and back. Hell aint no fun. Hell could be better is all Im saying. doesnt have to fiery and so hellish. It could be a friendly place where people go to get down, to boogie, to party. But thats another thing. A wise man once said, omit needless words, and I believe him. Omitting needless words is pretty awesome. The main words, the key words tend to stick out and make themselves apparent. Especially in everyday life. I guess so. I dont know. I guess Im a coward about the way I feel. Halfways anyway. But theres another aspect to it all I suppose. Possibly. Who knows. Ill never understand. Life is but a box of chocolates. Never know what youll get. I was very impressionable as a youth. Things just werent all that awesome. They were just so messed up. Ill never rightly understand it. Ill never fully grasp all that needs to be understood. Its all a shamble for me. Ill never quite get it. I hate it. I have a literary agent reading my work. Im scared to hell. I just know theyll reject it. I just know that it wont be worth diddly squat. I already know it. I just wont be able to prove it until it happens. And even then, ya know? It just makes me nervous. Such a nerve-racking experience. But thats okay. Itll all work out for the best. It has to. Every time. All the time. Forever and ever. But thats just the way it is. Thats the way its got to be. Thats the only way Ill have it. For one reason or another. But who knows. Theres just nothing to aspire to be anymore. Its all just a matter of bad business. I mean it. Bad things just come up out of nowhere. Sometimes Ill get memories and theyll be good. But a lot of times I get memories and they are bad. Thats just the way it is. I guess. I dont know. Its all so horrible. Ill never fully understand it. I hate it. I wish it would all just go away. The next mission for the main character (me) is to get rid of all this hate. I just dont know how to do it. But venting helps. Writing about it helps. I guess. I dont know. What else is there to know. What can I be? Who am I? what questions really plague me? What really drives me forward? Am I even moving forward? Whos to say? I just dont know anymore. Its all a matter of reconciliation. I guess. I dont know. These things are hard to decipher. Had a dream last night. Broke into some building at the university of Kentucky and I was in a library and there was a fight and a dungeon and people studying and a timer and an elevator that went in spirals and I saw some girl and she was wearing fishnets and I grabbed her ass and then sat down and started fucking her. What control I had. What power. But by the time I got to enjoy it I realized that it was too good to be true and so I woke up. Easy as that. What a waste though. Woke up wanting to watch porn, specifically porn with the keywords, tight ass. such a big deal. Such a wild adventure. But thats enough of the unconscious. Id rather stay with what we know. Somehow my sexuality has gone out of whack and I must fix this. Its appearing to be some sort of problem. But what else is there. Really. What else can I grasp my mind around? Is there anything? Am I all alone in this charade? Whos to say? Whos to define me as anything? Ive no idea. Things are just so evil. I hate it. Theres just got to be a better way to live. A better way to make money. Something that Ive yet to encounter. I dont know. Writing just isnt it. Writing 10k hours isnt it. There must be something else. Something more. Something that Im not quite understanding fully. But there isnt. all that preparation for the real world has been wasted. Its all a matter of who still cares and who doesnt. And I dont. and thats the bottom line. Cuz stone cold said so. I guess. I dont know. Id do more about the way of my life but Im so distracted with the middle east. Theyre always at war. It just doesnt make sense. I tried masturbating before writing but my mom came in the house and I was prepared to get really loud but it didnt happen. Not sure what happened. She has to work in the house and so do I. but still. What else is there to say. What can there be. Whos to really say. Whos to really know. I dont know. I cant say. But what is there? What can there be? Ive no idea. Its all just a matter of what the media wants us to do. Probably. I blame the media. Its always their fault. Blame the media. But dont. theyve done nothing. But

what else is there to do? Blaming is for the bored isnt it? Who knows. I just want out of this hellish countryside. There will never be a good place for me to live but then again, what was it all good for in the first place? Ive no idea. I want more college but Im too old for it. At least I think so. I want in but Ill never want out. Unless its immediately out. Ill never understand it. Its all so difficult to comprehend. I couldnt do the readings anyway. Theres just not much that I can do. Its all so different anymore. Its all so messed up. I hate it all to tears. But who knows. What is there for me. What can there be. Nothing. Diddly. Ancient Egypt? Done researched that. Boring as tears. I just dont see how people can make themselves researchers. It just doesnt make that much sense. I dont understand how the university works but there ya go. It just doesnt make sense. Not by any means. I hate it all. I wish it would just all die and burn up or something. Its just that irritating. That annoying. But theres got to be something to do. Theres just got to be something thats happening. For one reason or another. For somebody, somewhere. For one reason or another. But who knows. Maybe its not all chocolates and dandelions. Ill never know. Its all so secluded. Or just plain dead. I dont know. I dont care. Is this good enough mr. literary agent or publisher? Can I get away with writing like this? Theres something essentially wrong with it isnt there? I know. Oh well. This is the only way Ill get better. Or so I think. I could be wrong. I could be on the wrong course altogether. But who knows. However the boat floats thats how well know. Up here and over there. All the time were in the clear. For one reason or another. I have no reason to believe anything right now. I just want my novel to sell. Especially this one. But how. And why. And how does any of this matter? I just dont know. Its just hard to conclude anything. I really just dont understand much of it. Its all so simple, though, isnt it? I need to take a shower. I need something to eat. Something to munch on. For one reason or another. Losing weight is my specialty. But its so hard. Jesse guided me through the last series of workouts. I doubt I can handle any more of it. I think Im dunzo on the workouts. Theyre just too difficult. Ill just have to settle for being a fat blob and never attracting a mate. Its just that easy. But I guess Im done here. Finito. Finished. No more writing for the next couple of hours. What joy. What relief. Hooray, hurrah. And explode. The end. Writing again. Nothing to write about. Never anything to write about. Still listening to rap music. Just chill chillin for real. I guess. Im not sure. How is this for life? Life is so disappointing. I thought college was supposed to be more, but it isnt. theres nothing good about what Im doing anymore. Life is just empty. It shall remain this way. Ill figure out a way. Ill figure out something to do. Ill write for a living. Thats what Ill do. Writing is the key. Its what Ill do. I love the write. Writing bitch. Hell yeah. Love that writing shit. Forever and ever. I guess. I dont know. I do what they call experimental writing. And if I dont then I dont know what I would be good at. Im not really sure what Im good for. Its all just a big sham. Writing is complicated. Its so hard. I want to be good but its hard. Im not sure what to do with it. Its all so disorganized. I hate it. I have a lot of work to do on this current book that Im working on. Didnt do something right the first time. I hate when I dont get it right the first time. Especially long, arduous tasks. Jesus christ. How it all is. Who knows though. Good things may come. One day. I guess. Not sure. Gotta make sure. Gotta be sure. Gotta know for sure. Everything like this and that. Gotta know who I am first. Gotta tell em who I am. Gotta let em know. Gotta get some publicity. Gotta be the real deal. Gotta sell a million. If only. If I could sell a million copies then that would be nice. But Im not. Its all just so horrible. But its not that bad. I dont guess. Nothing bad about it. Nothing really to write about. Nothing to think about. Nothing to do much about anything. I think that as long as Im writing something then it doesnt really matter what Im saying. I could say ku Klux klan and still be in the clear. I think. I dont know. Depends on who all reads this. Its hard to actually make another book. Im not really looking forward to it but I am working on it. The work isnt hard. Thats the main thing. But what else do you know? What can you explore? What is there for me or you? Ill never know. Ill never figure out these things. These things are just as complicated as it gets. But then again, what am I good for? What is there to be good for? Nothing. There is absolutely no reason to have good behavior. My life is complete. And at the same time its over. But well get to that in a minute (yeah right). I miss freshman year of college. That was a good time right there. Money, drugs, women, and booze. No time like freshman year of college. Then comes sophomore year and the realization that youre going to have to do something with

your life and that college is only slowing you down. Have to get back to the money. Just like kanye. Drop out of college to spend more time with the art. For the art is the thing. It is the shit. It is the poop. I love it. Love it all to tears. But I need a better media. A bigger media. All the time. Forever and ever. I think I officially retire from scholastics on this day in april the 23rd. No more will I waste any more money trying to go to school. Going to school is over. Never was it any good anyway. It was all just a big scramble for pussy, drugs, honor, and freedom. But there was more stuff. Some of that learning was pretty cool. Some of it not. But what could you do? That was your only refuge. That was the only way to grow up. And what a way. Its been tremendous. Its been awesome. But the demands of college are just too much. Ill never go back. I really wanted that diploma but I dont guess Ill get it now. Just as simple as that. Dont need it. Slows me down. Hooray hurrah! No more school. It has been declared in this fair city of Freiburg that James Osbourne our mayor has declared himself educated just the right amount to retire from it for good. Tis a jubilant day indeed. Hooray hurrah! Haha. Freiburg exists inside of me. Was established today on this 23rd of April. Brothers baby was born yesterday. On that 22nd of April. Too much for me to handle. What a way to go. To support. To have. To know. To want. Et cetera and so on. But I still need to know about Greece and Rome. Theres still more to know. To learn about. Glad they sided with the European Christians rather than the Arab Muslims. Wed have an entirely different society altogether. Id probably be Arab. What a day. What a life. What a way. Just a great ending to a new beginning. Nah. Ill have to learn more. Always learning more. Learning more is the key ingredient. Without more knowledge then well all be doomed. Doomed I say. Just like Twain or Vonnegut said, most people insist on gathering vast quantities of information. I dont disagree with this but for some reason not knowing stuff is out of fashion and knowing just enough stuff is in. Knowing too much stuff may be for some but not for me. Ill never get a masters. nor will I get a bachelors. nor a Ph. D. itll never happen. I just cant achieve. Its just not the way of the world. Never in a million years was it. Never in a million years could it be. A million years is an awfully short time. As we pollute the planet its hard to see much hope for the continuance of our existence. But who knows. Maybe weve got a backup plan that everyone has forgotten about. I doubt we really have any plan. Its just that simple. Man writing is such a job. Ill need to retire before too long. Nah. Ill probably keep writing until I die. By myself. Thats how I always wanted it. All by myself. Gonna be. All by myself. Got one manuscript being read. Could be a bestseller. Probably not. Speaks of weed and alcohol. Not a very good mixture to say the least. Bestsellers veer away from taboo. Big time veering away from taboo. I like mainstream. It tells you what to think. All the time. Everyday, in fact. Forever and ever. Without apology. Unapologetic. Geez. How much practice do I need? I ought to be typing freely by now. Wandering about the landscape. Meandering about. Learning the ins and outs. The ropes of it all. I ought to know better ought I not? geez. Saw my future wifes mom last night. Shes so sexy. Haha. Like Ill ever be able to marry that person with the two gs in her name. two capital gs. geez. Lovely. Id never marry her. Id probably never marry. Im just not the type of person to carry out a bloodline. Im just not man enough. I cant own property or have children or get married. I probably cant even sell a book. Sometimes things just get frustrating. But thats okay. I like it. It just means that I have more odds to defeat. College is over. Never will I ever try to get back in. Its a lost hope. A dream that I never wanted to fulfill. Writing is the answer. Writing is the key. That will teach me. Writing will allow me to do the things that I want. I just have to write really well. If I can do this part maybe the reader can do their part by giving me the money. Isnt this corruption? Seeking selfish gain? Probably. But maybe Im a corrupt writer. Maybe I like it that way. Maybe I write for the government and it all goes down inside of my house. Maybe, but probably not. Jesus christ. Writing gives my head the biggest sense of unfulfillment. Not until I publish and receive enough money to live off of will I consider myself a writer. Will I consider myself worthy of any social status. Not until I have a wife, a new car, and a new house. Ill have it all I tell ye. Ill get my hands on all pleasures necessary by any means necessary. Ill be rich, I say, it will work out. And if not, well, then Ill at least have some words on the page. Its always good to have something to read in case you cant afford anything else. Thats the plan. Ill write so that I can have things to read. What a boring idea.

No. writing is much more fun than that. You can put down your own words and thoughts on the page by writing. You should be able to think clearer but Im not sure if Im pulling that trick off or not. Who knows. Who cares. Wouldve gone to cozy corner last night but my heart really didnt want me too. It didnt feel good for a few days after I had been binge-drinking. What a waste. What a life. All of the lights. This is the part where my writing just falls apart (as though it were glued together). Disorganization doesnt plague me. It only looks this way. I have everything organized perfectly. All the pieces fit. Its all there. It all works out. Checks out. Basically. I guess. Im not sure. I need help. I probably need another psychiatrist. I like psychiatry. I just wish they would help me more. But seriously, I think Ive fallen down with another mental illness: bipolar. Yes, I know. Bipolar is a serious illness. Itll be a while before I figure it all out but just remember this: Hells Satans! Bahaha. Shew. Need to reinvent the paragraph. Not enough space between paragraphs. Need better thoughts. Need to be more well-rounded. Like a turtle. Slow like the turtle. Hidden and tucked inside like the turtle. Uses its back as a home. What a world. I really think Im all typed out. Nothing left for me to write. Fatigue sets in. just nothing left to write. Big whoop. Big deal. Big wheels. Hollywood thrills. Sends chillsdown my spine. every time. Again and again. No more writing for the day. Only reading. The end. So what is there to write about. Absolutely nothing. Theres just nothing to do. Nothing to speak of. Nothing really worth anything. Theres just nothing going on. Shew the blank page. It has finally hit me. Ive nothing to do but stare down the blank page. It really is blank. Though I fill it with words it just isnt as good as it once was. It never will be. Ill never know how to write ever again. What am I to do. Writing is dreadful. Man. What am I about. What can I do. What is there for me. Nothing. Ate some missys. give me more dammit. Im still hungry. Damn. Need some more. Always needing more. More and more everyday. But what else is there. Theres got to be something more. Big time. But there aint. what there is there aint. etc. and so on. Man I just need some money love. Something good in this way. Something I need. Just want something worth something. Best dreams are the wet dreams. No lie. Sugar on my tongue. Trick daddy. Something like that. He said it. Not me. Whatever the fuck is up. I have no clue what is up. Things are just like that. Forever and ever. It was lust at first sight. Some rap just isnt that good. Lyrically. I mean I couldve done better than that. But it is what it is. Such and such. Thus and thus. This and that. For whatever reason. But I mean to type well. I mean to write like a menace. But I do not know how. Writing is just so damn boring. But theres got to be something more to it. Like the imagination process has to be broken down. There needs to be character, setting, story, conflict, resolution, comedic relief. But I cant relate those things into my writing. I turn my back on that type of writing. Forever and always. Man if I were a writer. If I could be a writer. Ill never be a writer. I wanted fiction but fiction is just too hard. Theres just nothing to do. Theres just nothing I could ever do. Its just something that is something else. Whatever the hell it is. Ill never know. Ill never get it right. Boredom is me. Typing used to be a release. Now its hell. It just doesnt work all that well. Its not even all that good. To write. Is evil. I guess. Writing is an old art form. Wish I could have made it better. Theres no other craft in the world that I know how to take up. This is it. And Im not even good at it. Painful. Hard to watch. Hard to stand. Hard to see. I think Im going to pass out. Always got those two mixed up as a kid. Passed away and passed out. Very little difference in words but very significant in actuality. However could life have been. Could I have done it differently. Could my life be a little bit better today. Could life have done some good for me. Never. How. Life. Is not that good. Life will never be so good. Not as it was. But whatever. How could there be anything left these days. I mean. where the hell is my pension. My compensation. Why do I write. For no particular reason. I thought I was good as a fourth grader and so on into high school but who knows. Ive probably gotten worse. I used to be able to write with emotion. With flair. But I have no prompt. No audience. Whatever it is that I want to do is a shambles. Its all screwed up. Ill never figure this shit out. Its all so complicated. Whatever the hell else. If I could be a rich man. Who knows. If I could be a man of wealth. I dont know. If only these things were really good. I mean really really good. If only life could have been better. Just waiting to die. Waiting to live. Waiting to die. Never

been tried never been true. Just waiting to die waiting to arrive. Hopelessness. Man. Nothing in the world can save me now. No one would ever. Not even the govt. I mean what the hell. Is there anything worth doing anymore? Probably not. Writing. What a waste. Writing. Still writing. Why would anyone write this long. Where is my freedom? To what end am I writing towards? Youd think it would improve by now but it hasnt. it cant. it wont. stuff like this and that. Lived like a lion today. Slept and ate. Laid around and waited for that bbq chicken sandwich. What a deal. Looks good but its not. Id rather be a part of some social network. Who knows. Id rather be good for something. I hate this. I think society just needs a makeover. A start over. A do over. Something. I know my life isnt all that good with it. It can be improved. It needs to be improved. Someway somehow. Society doesnt meet our needs anymore. Its all just a bunch of hoopla these days. For whatever reason. For some reason. Who knows. I had a good one but it didnt work out. Things just dont work out. I hate it. Its the worst. It will always be the worst. Get to go to the beach in june if I dont go to school this summer. What a day. I doubt Ill go to school. Just dont belong there. Just dont want to be there. Just not a good idea. For some particular reason. Welp, Im out. No more typing. To write. Yet again. I write. Yet again. Forevermore. Geezuz christ I write. Like a man man. Like a buffoon. Like a baboon. A boon. He laughed. A boon? Yes, a boon. You must come back with the boon. What is your boon? I have a boon. But I gave it away. What is your boon? My boon was the fact that Im loved by no one. No one will ever care. Also, college is very difficult. Also, Ive lost my virginity. Also, iowa is cold. Global warming is real. Theres more to it but I forget some of the things some of the times. By all means necessary. What exactly does that mean? By jimmy means necessary. Every time. Forever and ever I guess. Im not sure. Its always hard to say. So theyre not earthquakes. Its Ft. Knox. You know. Where all that gold is. Ft. Knox just fires a lot of rounds and it sounds like tremors. Must be Ft. Knox. I have no clue. Ft. Knox is really loud though. Big time loud. Good song playing. Theres a lot of good songs ever since I officially became a writer. They give you crap on the radio but they give you pure gold on That site is the best. Especially whilst writing. Ah geez. I ate too much food. Now I feel bad. I want to exercise but I also want to shave my head. I want to be big and muscular but I also want to be small and lean. every time. Just a little bit smaller. I weigh too much. Wish I hadnt of tried to be as big as Vernon Jackson. That man is a beast. Wish I couldve just stayed small. More or less the same. I guess. I dont know. There goes Ft. Knox again. Sad to say. Always sad to say. Must be running drills. Welp, thats all the writing Im worth. Yeah right. I wish I were worth more writing. I think Im worth more. At least Im not asking questions about what its worth anymore. At least. At last. Finally. Jesus christ. Patrick nalley plays somewhere on Bardstown Rd. thats just too far. I cant do that. I would watch but its just too far. Besides, it takes a really long time before anybody ever gets any good at anything. Especially writing. Writing is the curse. Writing is the cure. Join me my brothers and sisters! Yeah right. Ha! And I made yall love it. Geez Im tired already. Writing just drains ya. Just takes the wind away from ya. Cant wait to get my books on how to succeed in college. Im glad theyre coming. Ill be that much more prepared. I will succeed in the fall. it will happen. Now and forever. But theres got to be something more. Theres got to be something else. Like Im not getting the picture by going to college. I think Im supposed to fail at college so I can do better with my writing and spend more time on that. But then again, whats it all good for? I have no clue. Do you? Ah. Just too hard to comprehend anything right now. Just a big mass of hardship is what it is. Over and over again. Had to get a toothpick from downstairs to pick something out of my teeth. Took my pills today. One for schizophrenia and the other for when I was shitting blood. Its either for heart burn or something for digestion. I dont know. All I know is that there will be justice. Im already taking three sets of pills and Im only twenty-three. I guess if you open your mouth theyll only give you pills. Which is why I wont complain about the pain. I dont guess. I mean I might. I dont know. Im pretty weak when it comes to pain. every time. But theres got to be something more. Easier to concentrate now that Ive muted the music. Not much to know to do. Who knows though. Theres got to be something more. Something better. I dont know what it is though. Wherever it is. Whoever may send it here. By any means necessary. Love those words.

Ft. Knox is still firing. Sounds like thunder but with more violence. Violence reigns. I like it. Not really. If I had a gun Id like it. But I have nothing. I have intelligence but that doesnt always pay off. Im not sure what I have that can really give me an edge in war. Probably calculated risk. Not sure though. Writing is exercise. Good for the respiratory system. Helps me breathe easier I guess. I dont know. Its all the same to me these days. Forever and ever. Amen. right? Yes? Who knows. Ill never figure these things out. No summer classes for me. No money left in the governments budget for that kind of education. Wild. Even the government goes broke. Love it. Thats tough though. I guess. I dont know. The government has a pretty good name for the most part. Not sure how it doesnt stand out here and there. Pretty tired. Not sure if Im making sense. Life is hard to exist when peace is the prevailing factor. Geez I feel bad. Too tired. Too loagy. Wish I had me some dope. Dont guess Ill be able to get it. Sounds like a no go. Forever and always. But what else is there. Is there anything. Will all this be kaput one day? Maybe. Theres always the chance for invasion. Especially today. But who knows. I mean. theres such a way of the world that Ill never figure out why things are the way they are. Its all one big mystery. Every time. All the time. All day. Forever. I love it. I wish I had more of it. Music back on. Its not even that good. Not sure how I get along without it. But there ya go. Life without music versus life with music. Intense love for music. Only wish I could create that love with writing. One day Ill figure it out. Not today though. Probably no time in the near future. Got a lot of back-burner plans. Like to keep them there for a day or a week or a month of clarity. Maybe even a year of clarity. Who knows. Its all such a mind-bender. A tongue twister. Who knows. Bad song playing. Got to get a better one. Have to go to church tonight. What a day. Hatred for church. Wish I didnt have to go anywhere. Wish I could just die here and have it all end today. Just like this. Forever and ever. Amen. Feel like a marshmallow. For some reason. Have to break out of this funk. Have to get it right. Have to get it altogether all right. I think I pressure myself too much for some reason. Its all just a big wreck anyway. I remember going to iowa and thinking to myself that my life was officially over. Just a dog being sent away to die. I probably died about twice out there. Thats probably enough about that. Dad is gone. He was in a good mood today. I found his behavior acceptable. Shew. Going up and down those stairs is a workout. Somehow. Feel like a rotten tomato. Just pass me like a hot potato. What a bad day. Just shitty. Pretty horrible. I hate it. Wish it were better. Cant believe it. Cant get over it. Just want a big load of cash delivered to my doorstep. Uh, yes please. Too addicted to David Letterman. Hes not that funny but it works. I mean hes still up there doing his thing. Its quite admirable. I like it. Its just something you can depend on. Its pretty good, actually. Kind of funny, too. But thats it. No more kudos for Letterman. He might be the man but I think Charlie Sheen is better. Theyre two of the top comedians on that CBS network. I guess you could say that. Computers fucked up. Phone rang. Courys in labor. What a day. Biological functions are all out of whack. Dont know why. Guess Ill have to live with it. Have to go to church at 6:00 what a bad day already. Hatred abounds. Hate hatred. Man. What is there. What am I good for. I dont know. What is there though. There has to be something. Somewhere. Something meaningful. All the time. All of the lights. Man. Too hard to be a star. Too hard to be something worth being. Its good to just write though. Ten thousand hours here I come. Ha-ha! Sometimes I just get so jealous. I see my old friends with women and Im all like, man, that should be me. But it isnt. its all just a big screw-up. I hate it. Its all so faded. So jaded. Hatred for all. Jesus christ. Hatred. Must be a remix. Too tired. Just want some energy. Something that will fuel my writing. There has to be a writers diet somewhere. Somehow. Not sure what that would consist of. Probably alcohol and liquor. Nah. Probably cigarettes and caviar. Ha-ha! I dont know. A writer should eat carrots. Should eat plenty of vegetables. Not so much meat. maybe some bread. Fruit as a treat. I dont know. If only I could figure it all out. Who knows. Just wish I could gain more knowledge. Love that knowledge shit. Its the way to go. Think Ill go and learn some things right now.

Finally got one of my five books. Hell yeah. What is it? What shall I do. What can I do. What is there to do. There is nothing. Rahaha. I tried to apply to centre college but I found it too hard. Way too hard. Thats the end of my academic career. I guess Ill try for uk again but there ya go. What else is there. I dont know. Ill never figure anything out. Its all just going so fast downhill. But not to worry. I guess. I dont know. Who cares. Who knows. Whats to know. Whats to gain. Whats for sale. Who gives a shit. Who gives two shits. I dont know. What is there. What can there be. I guess Ill just go to uk. Not a bad option really. But there ya go. There ya have it. Only catch is that I have to keep up my gpa. Thats the only catch. And its crucial because that gpa is a hard number to keep up with. For one reason or another. I dont know. Its so difficult. All of it is. Ill never quite understand it. Its all so wicked. Very wicked. But there ya go. There ya have it. Over and over again. Whatever else there is. I have no clue. My honor has faded. What else is there. What can I do. What can I be. Yadda yadda yadda. Ive got to come up with something better than what Im coming up with. My words just arent making any sense. They never do. My fingers are all typed out. I believe that this is the most that I can do. Simply this and nothing more. Ive got a meeting with my psychiatrist tomorrow. Sounds like fun, right? Ha. Hardly. I mean, what the hell. What can I do? What is there to do. Its all so hopeless. Jesus christos. I mean what the hell. Ive got a rock and a hard place. Thats the basis of it. Thats all there is. Writing. So Ive chosen that as a profession. Yeah right. Theres just no way Ill get anywhere doing that. Seriously. I think Im doomed. This may be the last youll ever hear from me. Seriously. I think Im just going to have to give up on writing. Its just not worth it. I just cant produce quality goods. And thats what the audience demands-quality goods. Theyre always in high demand. And at cheap prices, too. every time. All the time, in fact. I hate my life. I hate my father. I hate my mother. I hate my brother and I hate myself. But thats just one aspect of it all. All the time. Every time. So hopeless it is. Aye, what reverie. What horrible things there are. What a bad life this is. What bad times. What cruel judgments. What enemies. What atrocities. What days have passed. What women there are. How many I want to hold. Very few. But there must be someone out there. I suppose. I dont know. I think I consider it an achievement to just be able to go to school in Kentucky. Heck yes. But what else have ye? Hear ye, hear ye? Ha. Yeah right. The standards have been way lowered. Its all so complicated now. Ill never fully grasp the awesomeness of it all. Its all just a bunch of hubris. Hubris I tell ye. Jesus christ. But itll get better. It has to get better. All the time it must. But first I must focus my energies on something else. Writing is not the answer anymore. Writing is, in fact, the enemy. Thats the case. Thats the cause. But Ill be fine. Well all be fine. Time and time again. But there ya go. There ya have it. Set it in stone. Jesus christ. Moses, Muhammad, and Abraham. Writing like a mad man. We got satellite television. Big whoop. It really isnt that special. I mean theres still commercials and everything. But then again, it is nice. Things could be a whole lot worse. But thats just weird. I guess. Watching Grandmas Boy. Not planning on watching it a lot but itll probably come in handy. I guess. I dont know. Things could be a lot worse. But here I am just typing away like a mad man. I love it. Love the type. Love the write. Love it all. It is very distracting though. Like I cant focus on this and watching television. It is a goal worth attaining though. Like to somehow write and do well and watch television. Itll work out somehow. Someway. Somehow. How hard could it be? They do write better on satellite tv though. Such a better quality of commercial and show. I guess. I dont know. Id rather have invested in work out equipment. Something worth having. But then again, what is there to do? What can I do? What is there for me? I have no clue. I just dont know. What is there to have. To be. To see. What is there? Period. I dont know. What can I do. What is there to do. Who knows. Who cares. Who wants to know. Who wants to care. I dont know. I dont care. But writing this way is very tiring. My tolerance for writing has fallen. I have no clue what else to do. Doing stuff is tough. Its always been that way. What you have to do is find something to do and be good at doing it. This is very difficult as there are many things that a person cannot or will not do well. I dont know. Cable tv is making it hard to concentrate on anything. Writing like this is very boring. I miss Pandora mixed with writing. Nothing to write. Trumped by satellite television and all the majestically glorious television it beholds. But what else is there? What can there be?

Writing is difficult. My writing is boring. Theres just got to be something that trumps my writing. Easily. By default. Without contest. Something like that. Need to get a pump for my basketball. I like just shooting around. I guess. I dont know. Too many materials create too many distractions. If not in the zone then things get bad. Something like that. I guess. Its hard to say. I want to write but theres just too much entertainment in this room. I cant concentrate. Why am I even writing this? Writing writing writing. Just like that. Stuff and stuff. This and that. Whos to say. What is there to say. What is there to do? What can I do? What can I be? What is there to do or to be? Is there anything for me? Probably not. But thats just another thing. Yes sir, it is another thing. All the time. Forever and ever. But what else is there. What could I do. What am I good for? Is it even worth any money? Probably not. Is my name worth any money? Not to my knowledge. I have no clue. But there ya go. Things are just kind of wicked right now. Big time wicked. Big time. Just a bad time. Forever and ever. Just a big bad wolf kind of time. I hate it. But its not too bad. I dont guess so anyway. But then theres just something that isnt worth my time. There are a lot of things that just arent worth anything. I love them though. Worth isnt whats its all about. Its all about a whole lot of things. All the time. Forever and ever. Something like that. Its not exactly like that but its pretty close. I suppose. Whos to say. Whos to know. What is there for anyone? What is there for anything? Who knows. I just want to throw a big bad party but I know my parents wont let me. It just wont happen. No can do. Stuff like this and that. So writing. Hell yeah. I dont know but grandmas boy is totally taking my attention. Wickedness. I guess. I dont like this satellite tv. I liked it better when we had less. Less is truly more. I understand that now. But there ya go. Writing yet again. And Im back. Its been like two or three days of no writing. Ive figured that its the only thing that Im cut out for. I suppose. I dont know. Its all rampant and chaotic. I mean, we have satellite television. That was a no go when I was a youngster. But now it is a go. I just dont understand. Its all kind of fishy to me. Ill never understand anything anymore. Its all over in my eyes. Never again will it be solved or beriddled. I guess. I dont know. I just dont have a way with words like I once thought I did. Like oscillation. I dont know how to use that in a sentence. Oscillations are out of my area. I dont see how these professors and grad students and undergraduate students get it. Or do it for that matter. Ill never understand the system. I thought college was only going to be a grown-up version of high school. Totally wrong. College is a league of its own and you have to know the rules quick or youll fail. Simple as that. I went by the old rules and Ive failed. The rules that friends are everything and et cetera and so forth. I dont know. Im totally clueless about some things. Ive just learned this. I think. I dont know. I wish I could know but knowing is hard to do. Welpmission aborted. Have to help dad at the graveyard. No more writing for me. I would rather write but sometimes you just have to help your dad. Its just that simple. Help. If someone needs it, you give it. Im not that mean and cruel. I know I speak of hatred a lot but thats just the wino in me. Im all talk, believe me. WelpI wish I couldve stayed longer. Au revoir. Writing again. I love to write. Thats just my passion. I couldnt live without it. Its just that nice of a hobby. Soon it will be a job and then it will be a career. What a lifestyle. I cant wait until I can afford beer and weed for the rest of my life. That would be paradise. Ooh, and a lady. Those are nice to have around, too. I love the women. If theres any homos around they better run because Im definitely not gay. Id throw it to a woman in a heartbeat. I mean, I dont know. I think Im gay. Probably not. Gayness is something of a bad thing. Homosexuality. Isnt that a curse? A boon to society? Probably not. Boon usually means blessing. So I dont know. Why would I say its a boon to society? Who knows. Ill never Theres got to be something to do about my current situation. There must be something. I mean, its never completely hopeless. Theres always something I can do to improve circumstances. If only I knew what that was. Then I would be improving said circumstances. Seriously. Ha. Serial. First thing I watched on satellite tv was south park and it was the episode of the man bear pig. And al gore was being serial instead of serious. He was being serial. Too serial. I didnt finish the episode simply because I lost interest. Ive been trained to not have interest in satellite television. But now, we have it. This is like a milestone in human history. I mean, what the hell. What am I good for? What is anything good for? Who knows. Who cares. Ill

never figure things out. But thats okay. Things will get better. Gotta love life. Gotta love the way it all sort of works out. every time. All the time. Forever and ever. Amen. jesus christ. But whats it all worth? What is anything worth? Is there anything worth to be attributed to anything in the world? I think not. Its all worthless and meaningless and we just have to find a way to work around this crude fact. Much of life is crude. Thats just the moral of the story right there. Crudeness of life. Cruelty. Cruel circumstances. Et cetera and so on. Man. I need to jail break out of here. Find somewhere to go. Something to do. Over and over again. For one reason or another. I mean it. Im tired. But theres got to be something more. Surely so. Picked up some limbs in the graveyard. Got them out of the way and now the graveyard looks better. Wasnt too big of a job but I got a decent workout from it. Working out should be my number one concern but money is actually my number one concern. Especially since Im pretty much decided on not returning to college. College was a big waste of money. Thats how I see it. Maybe it was a good investment for some folks but certainly not for me. Certainly not for me. Ha. Too tired. Need something to do. Something to aspire to. Something to become. A gradual process. A graduation of sorts. School was a waste of time. Ill never like school. Never was it ever good for anything. Hated it. Nothing good could ever come from it. But thats okay. Nothing bad about it either. They made you work but it was kind of enjoyable work. Kind of. They always had something to keep you going. That was a big plus. Craziness indeed. Geez. Life sucks. Theres just too little reward. Too much hard work. Too much sweat and too many tears. Its all so sad. But it works out in the end. Every time. I guess. I dont know. But writing. I love it. Usually takes me some time to profess my love for something new. And writing is still relatively new. But yeah. Dig it? Ha. Yeah right. Ha. Im not laughing Im just huffing and puffing. Pure exhaustion. Wish I could think of more to write about. I just want to watch satellite television now. Its the shiznit. Its got me so distracted I suppose. And I love it. But there ya have it, folks, another jam session of writing brilliance from yours truly. Et cetera and so on. Man. If only I could be a better writer. I love to write. I wish I could write better. More fluid. More lucid. More descriptive. Like the luminous sunny day. Something like that. I dont know. My narration is satisfactory. I suppose. I just cant write like the writers of old. I have to tell you about it. I cant show you. You have to be there to see it. Instead, youre right here and so I can tell it to you, just like Im telling you the most private of secrets. Isnt that amazing? Probably not. I guess my writing could be better. Ill figure out the secret formula one day. Itll be just right and perfect and there wont be any regrets on anybodys part. The end. And they all lived happily ever after. But seriously, writing is fun. Writing is the best. But, I could be wrong. Theres probably something out there that Id much rather be doing. If I had the ability Id play basketball. But I dont have the genes for it. Im just not athletically inclined. Not enough kinesthesia for me. Or something like that. Damn Im tired. I believe thats all the work Im going to do tonight. Wish I could do more but I cant. I really want to write but theres just nothing to write about. I would write about a woman or a girl or a woman-girl but theres none to write about. The muse is gone. They inspire me no more. No more do I surrender to the softest touch known to man. No more am I captivated by her beauty. I want a man. I need a man. One who can suck dick and squeeze it really hard. Yeah buddy. I dont know why Ive chosen to write like this but Im sure somebody finds it hilarious. Right? I dont know. Personally, Im a bit grossed out. All this nonheterosexual stuff isnt right. Im straight, by the way. I just think that the other way around deserves its due. Something like that. I mean Ive seen so many pornos that the story gets old. I mean I wish I could partake in the story but then youve got to wonder what its like for the lesbians and the gays, especially the lesbians. That stuff right there is just too hot. But again, why would I write like a homosexual? Isnt there this inborn instinct to like girls? To prefer mom over dad? Something along those lines? I dont know. I just want to watch television. Its the shiznit. Writing the written word. How fun. How joyous. Man oh man. What a day. Alackaday. An expression for sorrow. What a day. What a world. What a time. My muscles ache for some reason. Too tired. Too expressionless. Too much to do. Too much to become. Too much to seek out. I just have no clue about what has happened. Everything is amiss. Ill never wake up feeling the same again. Not ever. Nope. Not never. Again, too tired. Nothing. Forever and always. Read an article about where Osama bin Laden may be. The

article ended with someone pointing to an abysmal wilderness and saying that there are places where man has never set foot. I bet he has gone there. Something like that. A northern part of Kunar. Sounds legible. But who knows. I say we leave him in peace. Let him do what he wants. I guess. I dont know. Things will change. They always have. They always will. I suppose. Change versus stability. Peace versus war. Its always something versus something. Some are just too uproarious. I guess. I dont know. Im just too tired. Writing is a very strenuous process. Theres just generally nothing to keep me motivated except the 10,000 hour mark. I dont count my hours but theyre well worth the guesswork. Id say Im somewhere near 5,000. Haha. Yeah right. Maybe fifty. Or twenty-five. I dont know. An hour is a long time for one task. Jesus. Life is too short. Too long, too. I was once called a tool bag. I noticed this has something to do with hygiene. I take that as a direct insult. Iowa just wasnt good for me. I couldnt afford it. Still cant. cant afford much, really. Maybe Ill sell some books. Maybe not. Who knows. Its all so complicated. Each and everyday. All the time. Forever and ever. But what can you do? What can you ever do? Doing is the hard part. It always is. Forever and ever. Stuff like this and that. God, I hate my life. Hatred is such a multifaceted thing. I guess. I think all I want to do is watch television. This is a distraction that just wont be taken care of. Ill never be able to rid myself of distractions. Not never, no how! Yeehaw. Jesus christ. Eyes are watery. Allergies. Theyre puffy, too. Big time allergies. Welp, I believe thats all Im going to write. See you another day. Another time. Help me write some more dammit. I need the work. All the time. Everyday I need the work. Whatever else there is. I have no clue. Welp, take care! Must I write? I must write. Writing is the shit. Its awesome. Its the only thing that makes me come alive. I guess. I dont know. I just love the write. Writing is the awesome. Awesome is the write. Its like a chase. Or a race. It has to go on for a short period of time and be adrenaline packed. But its not that great because Im watching Rocky III. I watched a little bit of Rocky II but this is something else. I guess he beat Apollo Creed in the second one and now he must defend his title against Clubber Lang. And I tell ya, Mr. T is a big bad mamma jamma. And I dont hand out that title too often. But I must write more. Quicker and faster. Lightning greasy quick. Something like that. I dont know. Writing to movies, or television rather, is a bit more difficult than music. Doesnt flow as well. But still. I must do this. Bad punctuation and all. I have to write. Writing is the only way for me to go. If I dont write then I wont be a writer. I have to be a writer. This is my true calling. My true craft. This is the shiznit. Its the thing that I most want to do. And if it werent then I guess Im just wasting my time. And time is precious. Just ask anybody, anywhere, anytime. I guess. I dont know. Asking people is a tough task. I want to go back to school but I dont know what to study. If only I knew the perfect classes with the perfect teachers then I would be fine. But I dont. its all kind of weird. Guaranteed weirdness. But there must be something more. There has to be something more. Please forgive my writing as television makes it quite distracting. As far as yet. I want a better life but I have no idea as to how to attain. They say get an education, get a job, but I say, no sir. Be a writer, have a career, try the field. But who knows. Maybe Im wrong. Maybe the fire inside of me has burned out. Maybe Im all cooked up. Or just cuckoo. Foot steps from my father always disturb me. Hes a very disturbed man. Has snakes for eyes and alligators for legs. Hell kill ya. every time. Rockys trainer just died. Rocky III. What a bad day in film. What a bad day. Of course its just the American Movie Channel. I guess. I dont know. Life is complicated I suppose. I wish I could make sense of things. I try but theres just no use. Life is just a big complicated mess of piss and shit and nobody gives a care whether youre over here or over there. I guess he was Jewish. Theres saying Hebrew. Plus hes got the stunner shades on. Big time awesome. Yup. Hes Jewish. Mickey Goldwill or something like that. What a name. what an expense. To have a plate made like that for a movie. What a life. What a bad movie. I hate it. I wish it would go away. Im just not digging the movie. Rocky is not a good series. They couldve picked something better. They couldve made something better, had they better technology. But they didnt. Man. Need a better life. Like, now. One that has all the kicks and thrills. One that answers my every whim and need. One that is fruitful. One in which I can multiply. I need a wife. I need family. I need a job. I need

money. I need exercise. I need less. I dont like this satellite television. It confines. It traps. It comforts. It soothes. I just dont like it. Its not like an education. It holds no challenge. But I dont know. Uh-oh. Apollo said Eye of the Tiger. What a song. What a way to live. Writing beautifully. This has to be mastered. But it cant be done. Writing stylistically. Writing prose. Writing something the reader can read with ease of way. Thats the way to do it. I guess. I dont know. Id hate to go back through all of the writings and revise. Revision is pain. Its its own hell. But what are ya gonna do? Who knows. I need to make a plan. But I have no plan. Heres the plan. Be a writer. Write ten books. Become famous. Get rich. Take care of everything you need to take care of. Get married. Have children. Get an education. Buy a car. A house. Exercise a lot. Speak at lectures. Teach writing. Or English. Nah. I cant teach. I need to travel. Travel lots. Write ten more books. Raise my kids. Fuck my wife a lot. Read a lot. Go to parties. Have parties. Help build a mansion. Watch movies. Buy things. Drink beer. Go to a spa. Get a sauna. Take up golf. I could never take up golf. Heck if I know. Go drag racing. Eat dairy queen. Become the greatest writer. Hell if I know. Own a sports car. I have to be a pretty good writer in order to enjoy life or else my life isnt going to be cut out for much. Those are my plans. Thats all I can do. Theres not really much to plan for. Live and die. Drink. Smoke. Fuck. Travel. Do it all again. Man. Television is very distracting. Need the music. The music really helps the writing. It all works out that way. Thats just the way it is. But Ive got nothing to say really. I just like to think that I do. I just like to type and write and thats about it. I just need to lighten up. Yeah, thats it. I guess. Id write more but tv is such a distraction. I just dont know what to do. Id write more. But I dont know how to. My writing is the pits. I wish it were better. It will get better. For one reason or another. Man. Theres just not enough time in the day. But writing. Yes, thats the stuff. Thats the trick. Man. Short paragraphs. Shorter attention span. Writing career is a bust. Takes music to write like a champ. Television just produces a big distracted mess of letters and words. Ill never get anything right. Writing again. Wish I could write well. I think its my thoughts that are the problem. I just dont think beautifully or anything like what fiction has accomplished in history. So to change my writing I have to change my thinking. And believe me, Im not inspired. Inspiration is good fuel but not easily found. Even that costs money. Takes scenery and what not. But still. Have to write better by thinking better. And to be a better thinker I have to exercise. I have to be brave. I have to be bold. I have to dare to go where no one has gone before. And thats scary. Sometimes. I mean the best venture for that is NASA. And even then you have to be good at math and science and probably even physics. Im so at a loss for words though. Thinking and writing are too difficult. At least, they are at the speed that I go. I need an audience and I need a desire to tell a story. But I have none of these things. My only desire when I was a boy was to be as smart as possible. Ive been there but smart people are always in demand so it is hard for me to just back away from it now. Take college for example. I generally consider it a smart idea to save my money and write for a living. But then again, I also consider it smart to go and graduate so as to have that kind of credibility in the real world. What to do what to do. So there, Im thinking smart. It might not be artistic or insightful but it is something worth something. Therefore I must write whatever whenever. As many times as possible. I wish I could get drunk. I wish I could smoke. Man. I wish I had a four-wheeler. And a girlfriend. And a truck or an SUV. Im tired though. Writing is a very draining process. I must discover these things first and foremost. For scientific purposes. Got some sun today. Mowed a lot of grass on that little blue tractor. What a day. Thought today was derby day but I was wrong. Next weekend is derby/mothers day. Cousins having a party. I plan on going. I guess. I dont know. Things are wild right now. We have tv. I want exercise. I want travel. I want the things that Ive always wanted. Porno was pretty good tonight. Almost emulates the real thing. But its not even close. Sometimes the real thing just looks so good that Id give a left nut for it. Over and over again. Oh how I miss the mountains. Those beautiful holy rocks of pyramidal proportions. Yeah right. Id write like that but its pretty dry. I need to experiment with my writing voice. Its not good enough. It has to be

dynamic. It has to be fun. It has to be friendly. It has to explode off of the page. Each and every time the reader reads it. But thats another thing. I guess. I dont know. I cant figure these things out. Its all just a mumble jumble for me. Watched Charlie and the chocolate factory. Made me want to eat more chocolate. Got to the part about improvisation and then I had to turn it off. Television is just too much. Too hard to comprehend. Distracts me from my writing. I need to write. Writing is king to me. Must write and write and write. Until I commit lunacy. Over and over again. I hope good things come but I doubt they will. I want to be a dark and mysterious writer. Nah. Id rather be a cool and clear writer. One who makes things plain and simple. Out there in the wide open. Just plain spoken easy. Over and over. But who is my audience. Do I have one. Am I worth an audience? Who knows. I dont know. Things ought to get better. I want an education but I want to write. Life is just too much for me anymore. Too many obligations. Too many possibilities. Too much good in the world. Have to deduct. Somethings got to go. I could sacrifice on writing time but I dont see that happening anytime soon. Id rather sacrifice on education time. Thats the easier thing to do. But then again, what else is there? What can I do? What am I capable of? Is there anything worth accomplishing anymore? I have no clue. What is there to do. What is there to be. Can I be something that I dont want to be? What is possible? Are there things out there that can kill me? That will kill me? Is there anything worth knowing anymore? Does anyone even care? These are the questions that Im talking about. Not quite but Im getting warmer. Getting closer. And the answers, theyre coming. Theres evidence. Evidence proves some of our hypotheses to be close, wrong, right, and so on. Too much sun for me today. Mind got baked. Still, what is there out there? I think Im ready for another adventure. One of my friends is going all the way to Oregon. What a trip. Not much money either. Gotta love the man for it. For one reason or another. But who knows. Who really understand anything about anyone anymore? I know that I dont. I know that things could be better. But what else is there. What can there be? What could there be? Is there anything worth asking anymore? Are there anymore possibilities? Probably not. But I must stick with the scientific method. This will serve me well. Switched from country to rap so theres probably going to be a change in style. Like a more lazy yet rhythmic style that combines art with hip-hop. Something like that or along those lines. Something worth something for all its worth. Writing is my passion. Its been instilled within me. Ill always have it. Ill always love it. Itll always be with me. Writing is the stuffing in the turkey, the icing on the cake, the rings of the wedding. Et cetera and so on. Mike jones rapping too fast. I cant hang with em. I can only hang with a few things and rappers generally arent one of them. But there are some good things in this life. I just have to find them. Like I once said. That was a lot of pages ago. Writing is difficult when lying on your side. Rap is hard to adjust to. You have to be quick. But I disagree. Nothing good going nowhere. Nothing going on ever. Forever and ever. Hurts the wrist. Still. What is there. Is there anything for me. Can I get anything. What is there to do. Can I get anything from anything. Who knows. What is there to do. Can I get anything from anything else. Who knows. Is there anything left in the world. I doubt it. Rapping is hard to write with. Had to switch it. Rapping allows for no thoughts. You just write with the rhythm and theres plenty of that. I miss people. Dont see why they give us a whole school load and then take them away from us. But then again, the only ones that matter are the ones that come back. Or seek contact. Something like that. Im too shy to seek contact. Its all too harmonious. Too splendorous. Something like that. Fingers and hands are too tired to write. Remember a time when I was at hawks. saw some girls I knew. Saw a guy I knew. Lights and fog. Music. People dancing. I was looking for a dope deal. No go. Found my way back to cozy and eventually headed home drunk. Wasnt a bad deal. I knew better than to do that but I wasnt too drunk. I was over the legal limit to say the least. Still, what am I doing. What am I up against? Woe is me. No friends. Nobody to relate to. Nothing to go on. Nothing happens. Ever. Nothing ever happens. I hate it. Its so annoying. Thinking is no longer writing. Impulse is writing. Impulse is everything. Without impulse we probably wouldnt survive. We need those impulses to tell us what to do. Each and everyday. For some odd reason. Ill never understand it. My eyes burn for some reason. Probably the heat. Allergies. The diesel. Et cetera and so on. My brothers got a baby. That is some groovy shit right there.

I know what theyre talking about when they talk about writers block. Thats my highest dread. Just staring at a page and wondering what to fill it with. I say fill it with your soul. Get all the crap out of the way and cut to the good stuff. But the good stuff is difficult to get in there. The good stuff is what we all crave and need. And if we dont get it then we settle for some slightly worse stuff if not a different brand of good stuff. Thats just the way it is. If its good, it sells. And Im in the middle of a business deal. I just hope that it sells. I can see why it would and why it wouldnt. I just wish that it were more awesome. I just wish that good things would happen to me. Im tired of good things always happening to everyone for whatever reason. I need good things to come my way. Thats just the way it is. But what else is there? Too tired to write. Again. Impulse. Impulsivity. Gotta love it. Gets the juices flowing. Gets the motor running. Its the icing on the cake. Why is it the icing on the cake? Why dont people acknowledge the cakeness of the cake? The focal meaning of all this is, I dont know. If I could tell you the focal meaning of anything then wed be in business because Im in dire need of an ending to this book. Thats just the way it is. I just need help and its probably for all the wrong reasons. The four seasons. Hahaha. Too tired to be doing this but I must. All the time. every time. Things are just this way. Forever and ever. Eyes are burning though. They need rest. Face is hot. Too much sun. Need/want. Want/need. No clues. No desires. No nothing. Just me, you, and the rest. Thats all it is. Just whispering soothing incantations in Bora Bora. Listening to the waves crash on the shore. Sea gulls and oysters for supper. Crab legs and sharks for breakfast. Probably a clown fish for dessert. What a life we live in. wish it were different. Wish life were better. Wish my life would one day explode with awesomeness. Thatll be the day. Just a plain and awesome experience. One right after the next. Shew. Too much writing. Really gotta learn how to edit. Really dont care for the editing part. Really dont want to edit. Just like the writing as it is. Crab legs for breakfast. Jesus christ. Welp, I might be on a roll but thats the end of it. Im retiring for the evening. This night of frights and horrors. Jesus christ. Who knows what I might do next. Peace out my brothers and sisters. May God be with ye. Forever and always. James Osbourne. Haha. Im writing this book like it was one big letter. Shit. I wish I were that clever. No can do on this side, reader. Ill come up with the ending sooner or later. I just need to find some of the answers to these miserable questions. And if not, then Ill just find somewhere to end it. Heck, I may even end it like this. I dont know. Endings are hard. So are beginnings. Its the middle that people have to beware of. Yeah. That dreaded middle. Something like that. Off to la-la land. Writing for the end. Searching for the end. Itll come to me somehow. But in the meantime Ive got to write. Over and over again. Just writey writey writey. Over and over. Listening to something spicy. Some salsa mix. I like it. But theres no salsa. Nor chips. I love these things. Life is love. But not too much love. Just the right amount. Each and every time. But theres got to be something more. Theres just got to be something that I can get my hands on. Got sunburned yesterday. Officially a redneck. Hahaha. Not much to say. Not much to do. Just typey typey typey. Tippity type. Donald trump may run for president. I like this decision. Will he achieve anything? I dont know. Will I vote for him? Whos to say? When theres no clear option the best thing to do is to do nothing. I like this advice. But Id much rather go with a split decision than do nothing. Action is better than non-action. Laziness is bred with that sort of indecision. But whos to differ? Who can I rely on? Is there anything that Im missing? Probably so. I dont think this book is quite ready for an ending. I think theres still more to be discussed. Theres still more to deliberate. But what can I say? What can I do? What is there for me? No se. ha. Spanish. I love the Spaniards. Spain has 21% unemployment right now. I believe that. Being employed is no fun. I dont see how people fall for employment. The money just isnt worth it. Never is never will be. But thats just another story, isnt it? I mean, who cares, right? Who knows. Applying for jobs is hard anyway. I mean you really have to look like you want the job. And I do not. I never want a job. Maybe a store clerk but thats about it. Writing is my profession. Ill never give it up. As long as they let me write Ill always be a free man. Attacks on Libya. Killed Gaddafis son. Libyas outraged. Will kill invaders. The U.S. sort of invaded with missiles. They might invade here and kill us. No prisoners. Except these recent attacks were from NATO. And the U.S. is still associated with NATO. I think its a bit unfair that we have a lot more military power than the rest of the people of the world. But I do like it. I enjoy the security. But still, those with lesser military power arent winning. Things just dont add up for the country in which I live. Pissed off too many other

countries. And were only a young nation. I guess. I have no clue. The music is just bad. I want to say that the medium is the message but I kind of disagree. Im more of an adherent to the randomness of life. How its like a deck of cards or a rubix cube or even a box of chocolates. Something like that. I dont know. Too tired for anything today. Must go to church. I hate church. Church is the worst. Need to brush teeth but even that is a bit wild. Need to take a shower. Need a new bathroom. This current bathroom is just too filthy. Never will it ever be anything great. Bathrooms should be a haven for the dirty man. Time and time again. Blah blah blah. Must get straight to the good stuff. But I have no good stuff. My time is short. I must die young. But what if I die old and miserable? What if I die alone? What if nothing good ever comes for me? What is nothing ever comes for me? What is there to be? What can there be? Am I even any good at anything? Whos to say. I just know that these sunburns are very distracting. But I love it. I think Ill just end the book right here. With the fact that I got burnt. Nah. Thats not a very good ending. Ending a book is like kissing a woman. You gotta give it some tongue. Haha. every time. For heavens sake. I just hope they like my book over in Colorado. Im getting quite nervous about it. But who knows. What would there ever be. What can there be? Is there anything to become of anything? Can I get anything straight or right? Will it ever come true? My dream? Will I ever have an accomplished dream? Ive got one but its not enough. Ive probably actually got two or three. Maybe even four or five. Or six or seven. Ive had quite a few dreams come true. Making out with a girl, getting my drivers license, having sex with a girl, going to parties, going to Mexico, going to Europe, and skydiving. Graduating from high school, going to college. Its been real. Its been fun. Its been real fun. But it can be better. It can always be better. What to do what to do. What can I do. I cant do much. I guarantee it. Almost as good as a disabled person. Probably a little bit better. I guess. I dont know. Things are wild and crazy. Ill never get over it. Life is just a whole other frontier for me. Probably for most people. I guess. I dont know. I almost feel like adding anymore would hurt my book. So I want to end it here. But I have to put in something witty or funny or sentimental. For one reason or another. It all has to coagulate. It has to make sense. Like this one time, I had a dream and we were going camping and we were at someone elses house and then theres just not much more that I can make of it. That shit right there just doesnt make sense with anything now does it? Oh well. Poo-poo. So. What is there to write about? What can a person write about anymore? Dont mention making out with certain girls. Their friends will hunt you down and tell you that you did wrong. I hate it. Its misery. I just wanted to add story and content to the damn thing. But thats okay. No big deal. Nothing to worry about. Ive still got plenty of ways to write a book. Thats just another constraint I suppose. What would life be without constraints? Who knows. What will become of us? Of anyone? Of anything? Whats going to happen? Who knows. But thats another story. Theres just got to be something. I cant be wasting my time at a damn computer and typing on it for nothing. Theres got to be something to come from it. Theres always some good in the bad. But sometimes you have to pick sides. I guess. Picking sides is difficult. But its necessary. I guess. I dont know. Things are just wild and crazy. Who knows how this life is supposed to be operated? How its really supposed to go. How things shouldve worked out. I cant picture it any differently. No sir. Sure cant. I guess I could if I tried. Like, for example, I went to a college in state instead of out of state. What wouldve happened then? Whos to say? Man. Really wish I didnt miss Charlie and the chocolate factory last night. I love that movie. Oh well. You do have to miss some things. Thats just the reality of life. But Im tired. For some reason. I guess. I dont know. Things are dramatic around here on Sundays. I never like it around here on Sundays. Only when the parents are gone. And the such. And the like. Too disturbed to get anything good out of life. Too emotionally disturbed. Way too idiosyncratic. Something like that. But I think Im done. Havent found the ending yet but I do believe that I am done with this one particular sitting. Amen. Have a farfegnugen. Osama bin Laden has been killed. Thats the perfect ending to a story, isnt it? I dont know. Probably. Probably not. Who knows. I think its a decent ending. Still, it was murder. We at least gave Hussein a trial. I have no proof that bin Laden masterminded the 9/11 attacks. But I guess he did. Im not sure how they

come up with this stuff but there ya go. Its still pretty exciting. Pretty visceral. Id rather not rejoice. What if that had been me? What if I had been killed and had thousands or millions celebrate my death? That would be horrible. I would be in a shambles. I still want to go to school but Im unsure of how to get it done. Theres just no way for me to do it. I think Im just a writer. Still, theres the case of Osama bin Laden. I always sympathized with him. I found his countenance very worthy. But Im in no position to speak like this. And Im in no position to back down from my position. I disagree with this celebrating. It was a popular move by Obama. Im unsure if it was the right move but it was a move. Id rather not be apart of any of this. Take me to Canada or something. Theres bound to be relative peace for an American outside of America. Or an ex-pat. Good old ex-patriot. But who knows. Ill never figure this stuff out. Im just kind of insensitive to the needs of others I guess. I want school but Im afraid Ill drop out again. Like, I almost believe and know that I do not like school. Never did like school. Plus, Im just not good at it. Not college anyway. Its just a different school entirely. I want the knowledge and I can find it but the degree will never be mine. And Im not in it for the degree anymore. Im in it for the knowledge. The knowledge is where its at. Every time. All the time. You can become self-knowledged through other means. Still, Osama bin laden. I almost believe he had nothing to do with the attacks but then again, he probably did. I dont know. I just wish that hed gotten away or something. But they found him, and killed him. And that was that. Nothing more, nothing less. Simply this and nothing more. I guess. I dont know for sure. It can be very very exciting but it can be very very sad. Im very good at hiding my emotions, arent I? Im glad hes dead. You cant just fly planes into someones buildings and expect good things. And the irony is that much of his fortune came from his fathers construction business. I guess he didnt like the architecture of the World Trade Center. Who knows. I vouch for one of his sons constructing us some more towers. Or at least some business buildings. That would be nice. All would be forgiven. What if Obama had pardoned bin Laden? That would be some shit. It almost looks like another round of presidency for Obama. And I thought that I was going to vote for Trump. I dont know. Ill probably vote for a sensible candidate. Whoever represents the strongest male presence or dominance. I guess. I dont know. Things are wild. And crazy. Ill never understand it. Dont know what to make of it. Read from TIME magazine that bin Ladens death changes nothing for Americas presence in Afghanistan. Wild times. SoIraq and Afghanistan. Why are we there again? Were the ones being portrayed as terrorists. Its like another crusade they say. And they dont like it. But heythe price of some of these wounded warriors is too great. I cant compare. I study the ways of the saint. Its just what I was born into. Isnt that something? They way that were born into things? Its crazy. And I think they all wish they had been born into something else. The Warrior, the world redeemer. The world redeemer, merely a saint. The saint, the emperor. The emperor, the lover. And the lover, the warrior. That might just be one way of seeing things. I dont know. Theres seven billion people out there who all think that theyre right and if ones rights interfere with anothers rights then things get kind of messy. Kind of ugly. Usually the more violent one wins. For violence, in Latin, is related to power. Or viohl. Something like that. Just like liquor and loquacious. Something like that. I dont know. Things are raw right now. Not sure what to think about anything. Just want to die like Osama. Just want to die I said. Life just isnt worth living. What does it prove that the top U.S. soldiers can kill a man? It just proves that we are still violent. Still tribal. Nothing has changed from earlier times. Just the confidence in distances. Its pretty wild in actuality. I just cant believe it. Im surprised there isnt more money and international discipline on the spatial frontier. Vying for outer space. Thats where my eyes would be headed if I were in charge. Space colonies. Trying to find other places to live. But there isnt. weve only got one earth. I almost fear that there will be a huge war soon to eliminate some people from earth. Its too crowded for some people. We need more resources. Something will have to give. Its just that simple. I just dont want to fathom the enormity of the next cycle of war. Ill have to be involved. Its inevitable. Ive grown too smart. I understand things way too well now. And being as I have no tact, nor discipline, nor natural inclination for war, I will surely die. These things are wild beyond fathomibility. Something like that. I wish it were better. I just want a better life. Now and forevermore. But who knows. How will it all add up? Will there be any evidence left for anyone or anything? Im thinking about the gunfight between bin Laden and the SEALs. Life is tumultuous. It cant get any worse. We kill for happiness. Hasnt the pursuit gone too far? Im against the constitution. We need a new one. One that accounts for centuries worth of accidents and problems. One that changes the rules. Isnt it that easy? To just change our rules so that we can surprise the other nations? Who knows? Who cares? Who would be held accountable. Who would know mercy? Does

America know mercy? We almost have to personify her to make it make sense. America the Beautiful. Killer of Osama bin Laden. What a day. What a night. What a way. I hate these things. America the Republic. America the Dominant Force. How I hate her. How she wont give me enough money. How she screws me over every time. Jesus Christ. What good will come of this? No one knows. I dont know. Knowing is bad news bears. Watched the end of that movie last night. Pretty wicked. Foresaw the end of the world and had two member of the opposite sex go away on another planet to start anew. What a way. Cross-breeding. Inter-breeding. Doesnt matter. Inbred only matters when competition is the case. When theres no competition, you can just have at it. But there is competition. Things have to get better before they can get worse. Its just as simple and easy as that. Too tired. Cant write for shit anymore. Too much juice required. Not enough stamina. Have to build it up. Building stamina is difficult. Everything is difficult. I guess. I dont know. Probably not everything. I guess. I dont know. Things could be better. But theyre not. This is cause for retaliation. I guess. I dont know. I have no clue. Not having a clue is cause for education. Being educated isnt always the answer. I just dont get it. Theres got to be something better for the rest of us. But who knows. Hows it really going to be? I dont know. Ill never get it. Getting it is the only step in the process. But its a tough step. I guess. Go figure. Right? Am I right? Who knows. I mean, if I had it my way Id have a job. I mean, things just differentiate after high school. You can do whatever you want to. And it doesnt have to involve college. And thats fucked up. I just dont get it. Need a better computer. I guess. I dont know. Need a better mind. A better head on my shoulders. Its all about competition. And if you fail then you aint no good. Just as easy as that. But there ya go. Have at it. Ill never really understand. Never fully. Life is just too messed up. Its all so very wild. I guess. I dont know. Theres always a mixed bunch of us. Shew. I need to drop not knowing like a bad habit. Socrates was only cool freshman year. Thats about it I guess. I dont know. Ill never know. Ill never figure this stuff out. Life is too demanding. Ill never fully understand. Understanding life is just not too complicated. Just die. Youll figure it out. Man. I need to eat something. Get hungry so easily. So quickly. What a day. What a life. What a way. Who really cares anymore. I dont know. Knowing is bad. Knowledge is crazy. Doing anything worth doing is kind of dreary. Its never really worth doing. If it were then wed be doing it all the time. Kind of how I do with writing. I guess. I dont know. Life is jumbled right now. It could be better. It could be worse. Ill never figure out this little trap called life. It will just have to remain unknown. Mysterious. Had a dream this morning. I went into the cold, dark night. Felt this cryptic darkness surround me. Was it a prisoner? I dont know. I live close to a prison, ya see? And I used to have this fear of escaped prisoners when I was a kid. Especially at night. But whos to say. Came inside. They were eating Campbells Chunky Soup. I forget what all else happened. I think we had just gotten done shopping from Louisville. It was all so messed up. Ill never forget it. Life is just messed up. So tired. Might as well retire from this sitting. Nothing to write about. Obama killed Osama. What an ending. Is this the end? I dont know. I feel Ive still got some pages in me. Being as that story has nothing to do with this one. At least, not in a focality of meaning sort of way. But maybe it does. Maybe I write because of 9/11. Maybe Im in this position because of 9/11. Who knows. Is 9/11 blame-worthy of such accusations? Probably not. At least, not the families of the 3,000. An outsider might say yes. Too many factors. Too many differentials. Its all so grueling. I hate it. Like I know what Im talking about. Couldve gotten a better writer in a sense. For one reason or another. I dont think its all about style anymore. Its about content. And I dont have much of that. Style is just one aspect of it. I need content. Therefore, I will sacrifice my life for story once again. I will love the adventure. I will get it back. I will succeed? Succeed sounds like a dangerous word. I dont like the word succeed. Its too unhealthy. From now on I will not succeed. I may fail at this but I want to show the world something new. Something extraordinary. Something like that. But where would it come from. Where does anything come from? Who knows. I want that game mine craft but Im unsure if they accept american dollars. Its crazy isnt it? Always is, always has been. Just craziness worldwide. I see some people with the same costume as bin laden and I believe that they are happy as well. But I do see some people that inwardly protest the situation. That killing a man is wrong. Comes from a bad crowd. I dont see how Obama could succumb to the suit and kill a man as he did. But thats another problem. I suppose. Who knows. I want to go back to school but I inevitably know Ill fail. Its just too success driven. Not enough of the bad guys to even things out. Its sorted between the rich and the moderately rich. And Im poor. I cant handle that type

of environment. Its just annoying. I need to mail this check to that lady but Im having too much fun writing. Writing is my pleasure. Its my leisure. I love it. I wouldnt give it up for the world. Well I might but then I couldnt write about my experiences in the world, hopefully leaving trails of hints at how to attain such pleasures. And pleasure is king. To serve him well is the thing. But who cares. Who really wants to know anything about anyone. Why are you reading this book? Its pure gibberish. Put it down right now. Get rid of it. Burn it for all I care! Hahaha. Nah. Dont burn my precious book. I love these things. Its just amazing, right? I know how much you love this book. Thats why Im writing another one so that you can read that one too. Shew. Its hopeless isnt it? My quest for domination is over. Im just not good at anything anymore. My life is a shambles and I just cant realize it. I deny it. Its over though. But who knows. Who cares. Osama bin laden dead. What does this mean? what will happen? Is there anything thats really anything anymore? Who knows. I cant rightly say. Things have gone ballistic since. Jesus Christ. What can there be? What can I do? Is there anything to do? Anything to see? Can I be great, still? Probably not. All dreams of greatness have been thrown out of the window. I wanted to be great for so long but it was just too impossible. Greatness is kind of immature now. Theres got to be something better than greatness. Something that is worth something more. Something that means more. Id love it. Id caress it. Id massage it. Jesus. Who knows. Im tired. What the hell. What am I good for? What is there for anyone? What can I be? What can I do? Is there anyone out there? Probably not. Watched the silver surfer last night. It was pretty good. Dr. doom takes the board and he himself becomes the silver surfer. What a life. What a way. Shew wee bob. If only I could go back to that restaurant called Bobs Your Uncle. I miss the little things like that. Not really. Im glad as hell to be back in Marion County. Marion County is my place. Without Marion County Id be swamped. Big time swamped. But who cares, right? Who really understands anything anymore? I dont. I mean things are just nasty as hell. But who cares. super freak is playing on the Pandora radio. Gotta love it. Such a good song. But now I tire. I tire of writing. My fatigue acts up. But content. Yes, the content. Thats what its all about anymore. Style was a dream. Its now all about the content! super freak! Something like that. Need to brush my teeth. Need to get some better clothes on. Need a mate. Need a house. Need something to do. Somewhere to go. Something to put my name on. Just something to relieve the tension. I dont know. Im tired like a mofo. How I hate everything right now. Just for no reason. Its all empty and sorrowful. I hate it. Blah blah blah. But there ya have it. Just over and over again. Who knows. Just take him out Batman. Take out that evil terrorist. Over and over again, until you get it right. Paragraphs are getting shorter. Not much more to write. Never was there ever. Its about creating something to write. Creating something to talk about. Over and over again. Just gotta love it. I know I love it. But there ya go. Who cares. Who knows. Nobody cares. Nobody knows. Peace is me again. Theres a line in amos where the people call for peace but peace does not come to them. John Lennon called for peace. He got the anti-peace. Amazing the foolish things we can commit when uneducated. I know Im uneducated in many arenas but I hope to be educated. Something like that. Education is the bomb. Gotta love education. It would be something of a wild world without education. Bunch of ignorant people walking around committing heinous crimes. Yeah, thats pretty bad. Could you imagine a world without news? That would be pretty bad, too. Or technology. Wowee. Brain is way too tired from writing. Writing is not its focal point. It doesnt agree with the task at hand. I dont either. Not until I get some money from this stuff will I be more enthused about it. Too tired. Too wired. Just woke up from sleep. There must be a quick-twitch muscle set especially for writing that fatigues too easily. I guess. I dont know. Things are wild. Things are always crazy. Gotta love em. But who knows. Maybe Ill be an alcoholic one day. Who knows. Discipline is what it is. Discipline is all it is. Gotta love discipline. Keeps us focused. Over and over again. But sometimes the music just gets us in a sort of way that is hard to understand. But thats okay. Music has rhymes and it doesnt really make sense. Sometimes the music tells a story and its never much of a story. But things could be worse. Its all so epic, Ill give ya that. Never has it ever been so epic. Still, Im out of content. My life has ended. This is post-college. Posthigh school. Life is over. I didnt even go to prom. That worries the hell out of me. Oh well. Things are just wild like that I guess. Man, though. Looking back I wish I went to prom. A good girl wanted me to go, too. But of course, I always want more than I can get. Its just that easy. That simple. But who knows how it really is. Gotta love it. Ill always love a handful of people. Its just that innate first look of love type shit. Ill never forget that first day of kindergarten that very first moment I walked into the classroom and there

they were. Two beautiful little angels. Just sitting there. Ive never been sure if that love has been reciprocated. Its just a wild little experience that memory. Ill love it forever. But on to more important things. Like business. Business is bad. No profits. Well, some profits. I do manual labor and that works. I need the money though. Itll never be enough money. Money is a tough commodity to come by. To sustain. To maintain. To have. To keep. Just little things like that. But who knows. Who cares. Things are wild. They could be better. Shew. Too tired. Not enthused for the write. The write should be over. But I have to slave at it. This is what I have chosen. This is what I do. Forever and ever. It just has to be this way. For now anyway. Wish I could find a better calling. Something like that. But who knows. I dont understand. Ill never get things quite right. Its all just a matter of true versus false. I love it. I also hate it. For unbeknownst reasons. But thats about it. No more writing. The end. Hahaha. Too tired. Just watched 127 Hours. Mom accidentally rented it on satellite. It was crazy. He was beginning to have hallucinations. Sleep deprivation. It was crazy. To say the least. I loved it. What a life its been. What a crazy little movie though. Loved it. If only. Im pretty tired. Not much to do. Not much to comprehend. Im not sure if Im glad that I dont have any school to do or if Im sad. I do know that I miss certain people but thats about it. The studies were tough but such is life. Feeling the groove now. Now and forever. Hahaha. Man. I hope the u.s. doesnt get attacked again because of bin ladens death. That would be horrible. I would have to move somewhere. For the u.s. to be invaded would be disastrous. It would be crazy. I would hate it. Life would be so freaking miserable. I guess we would make it though. I dont know. Writing in a different font. Kind of spices things up. Kind of not. I dont know. Its hard to make a good judgment anymore. If I could then Id do it all the time. But I cant. its hard. Its impossible. Things are different these days. Theyre not better but theyre just different. Oh, how I hate my life. How it could be so much better, yet, how it could be so much worse. Still, I see more possibilities than negativities. Its crazy, right? I mean, who knows, really? I dont know. Things are strange. I remember a time when we went to go get cigarettes at Green River. Patrick was driving. There was a girl in the backseat with me. I was mildly attracted to her. Burnt a hole in my shirt with my cigarette. Windows down. Summer air. Lovely time. Loved it. Back to Times New Roman. How much more boring could it get. Times new roman is the worst. I can only type a certain way for a certain amount of time. Too much white space with Times New Roman. Need a new font. Like Garamond. Garamond gets the job done. Every time. Although I liked Alba a lot. Alba was nice. But who cares, right? Its all crazy anyway. There must be love in this place, yes? Hardy har har. Im just too tired for the writing experience right now. I care not for it. I just dont want it. I just dont care about it. What is my problem anyway? Im just so scared. Half the time anyway. What a bad year 2010 was. 2011 is better but who the hell cares. I mean Im not with a girl and I have no future and no one to share it with but there ya go. There ya have it. Things are wild. Things are crazy. Its all so tender, yes? Who knows. Ill never know for sure. Life just goes on. Thats the basis of it. I guess. I dont know. News is still all over bin ladens death. I get pretty sick of it. Time to move on. Time to get the show on the road. Big time. But no. no show on the road. Show found something good. Show must stay. Disappointed that one person is getting married. Wish she wouldnt. but then again, these things prove that it wasnt going to work out anyway, right? When three other women get married, then Ill know that Ill need to look harder. Something like that. Ive met plenty of women but Ill never find the right one. Its just not in the cards for me. Never will it ever be. Not ever. I hate it. Its crazy. All the time type of crazy. But thats just another aspect of life. I hate it. Life is just crazy as hell. But theres nothing bad about that. Im too tired for this. I deserve better. This shit is just too hard. Something like that. I dont know. Things are wild. Ill never fully understand the complexity of it. Its all just plain crazy. Up and down across the board. But I must continue. The show must go on. Too tired. Must continue. Life just doesnt make sense anymore. I dont like it. No more grades. No more graduation. I bet if I could stick out another semester then I would certainly do well. But its so hard. 3.4 gpa means an 89. I have to average a B+ my next semester in order to stay at UK. Thats wicked. I took easy classes for that kind of grade, too. Im not sure how to keep that sort of grade. 3.4 is pretty good. I just dont see how to continue going on like that. I mean, the motivation is at an all time low. If only I could

figure out a way to get things straightened out. If only good things would happen. If only I didnt have to call my mom whilst at college. Thats such a buzz kill. Such a failure of momentum. Gad I hate it all. It never works out the way that I want it. Never! I tell thee! Never! Geez. What a temper I have. How I hate life. Shit just pisses me off. The end. Thats a good ending right? I mean, I dont know. I suppose we could still go a little further. If only I could write better. I cant though. Writing is a process and I make it too simple. For one reason or another. Who knows. I believe this is as far as Ill get tonight. Good night. Writing again. Love writing. Gotta love writing. Typing is the real pleasure. Yeah right. What else is there. I have no idea. I reminisce of times when I was traveling to iowa. What good times they were. Away from Kentucky. Thats all I can say. Starting to realize that dreams are merely hallucinations much like reality. Theres always one part of us that gets sleep deprived. Everyday is a struggle. The dream is merely a hallucination. Yet, somehow theres this myth that surrounds it that allows for infinite possibilities. And its called something so fanciful as dream. like a whimsical wonder. Its really a hallucination. A part of us must always remain awake for predators. That part is what hallucinates. We are always sleep deprived so wed better get used to it. Just sometimes, it reaches the upper levels of our consciousness. See, I used to sleep for large amounts of time and one day I took a trip to New York. I was so sleep deprived by the end of it that I began to have hallucinations of cartoon dinosaurs. Crazy right? Well, I watched this one movie called 127 Hours where this dude had his arm stuck between a rock and a canyon. He couldnt sleep all that well standing up so he began having all these hallucinations. It was crazy. It was like he was dreaming while awake. I loved it. Because the field of dreams and hallucinations are almost identical. Its just that simple. And some drugs allow for us to get closer to that union. Its wild as shit, I tell ya. But thats about all Ive got for that theory. Whos to say that this isnt all one big hallucination. A hallucination of which we have figured out the rules and play or work by them as needed. Crazy, right? Sheeit. This stuff is genius. I just love it. But what else is there. What else could there be. What can I do? I dont know. Im tired. But tiredness must not interfere. Or, I must not allow it to be something unusual. Im always tired. The fact of the matter is that the bed is not good enough. It only allows for a certain amount of sleep. If we had better ways of sleeping Im sure we could control how long we sleep in addition to how comfortable our bodies could remain after several hours. And this is why the book will not end. I still have discoveries to make. Still more to create. To know. To learn. To share. I still want to go to school but I just dont see myself not failing or dropping out. The habit is gone. The high school diploma has been attained. Its not such a bad life after all. Once you discover that other people have the same disturbances in life, and that we are all equal in some senses, its not so bad not having a college education. I love this. Its been great. Its been real. Its been really great. But auditory hallucinations. One girl in Iowa was talking about this. I knew nothing of them. Kind of interests me. But why? Who knows. I think college is for the true scholar. I could never be this true scholar. Im a writer. I simply do. Simply this and nothing more. Ive already found my job. It is this. If it were not this then what good would I be for anyone? To anyone? Who knows. I would be of some good. I dont work as much as I ought but who cares. I work as well as I can. Thats the gist of the argument. I would work more but there is nothing to devote large segments of time towards. I just dont understand this American archetype that has been implanted into my head. Work several hours a day, get married, have kids, generally two, buy a house and visit the parents every so often. Its as simple as that. But I have none of these things. What is wrong with me? There must be something amiss here. But there isnt. Im just me. Living at home with my parents. Doing things that they want done. Working the business when I can. Typing like a nimrod. I have a love but she is not my lover. I love her but I do not know how to approach. Life is always full of complications. I love her to tears though. Id never want anything to happen to her. Nothing bad, of course. If only we all had a love such as that. She is beautiful. Smart. Kind. Generous. Helpful. Sweet. Not ugly. Beautiful. Cool. One of a kind. Just plain sexy. I mean she stimulates me in so many ways. I want her to be mine but I would be a fool. I cannot afford a bride. Those things are expensive. The love would have to be secret at best. Lasting throughout the years. Unbeknownst to everyone. But this is impossible. She would not have me. Im too impoverished. Ive not enough of the right genetic makeup. She, however, is a dish. A queen. She has a great future ahead of her. I

could never get in the way of that. I say these things as if I have a possibility or a chance or even a glimmer of hope. But, alas, I do not. There is just no setting. No way in hell. No way period. Its too treacherous. Too dangerous. Id hate myself if I never tried. But I have tried. And failed. I just love her too much. And Im scared of love for fear of being called obsessed. I think these are our biggest problems. Knowing that we cannot love the people that we truly love. For if we did we would risk utter humiliation. I am not in the slightest position to love whoever I want. Im in the position of loving whoever I can. This has meant for some strange encounters and wild nights with undesirable women. But they were fun and adventurous to say the least. Gah. How I hate. I want to love but Ive no one to express the most powerful part of my nature. I tend to be shy. Inward. A man of no means at all. How it all is really. How I hate. How I love. How Id never be able to become anything. How nothing would ever become of me. How my life is doomed. How positions of power order others to be killed. How the lowliest of us wish for opportunity. How we dream of chances, needs, wants, desires. For I love desire. Without her, I would be finished. The passion. The need. The desirous nature within. The romance when found one to love. The romance when one has found you to love. If only. If only. If only. But these things are impossible. I am a tyrant. Love does not exist. Not in this cruel world. Never could it ever. Love is cold. Love is non-existent. You die in the end anyway. Thats the gist of it. The cool factor though. The coolness of it all. It always has to be cool. It always has to be worth something. It always has to be something kept in check. Jesus Christ how I loathe. The emptiness of it all. The need for sanity. For something to do that is worth doing. How we must be creators. Creating our ways into paradise. Working for what? Nothing. For nobody. For it is only in communism, that one can find ones way out of communism. What a derogatory road. What a degenerative way. I think Marx picked up on this. That it was not a good way but it was very inevitable. How smart a man is to see in the future this way. But I tire. I grow weary. My writing skills diminish. How Ive picked up and collected things on my journeys. How I wish for more travels. How I will not attain. Not as much as Id like. Tourism is a plague to most countries. How tired I grow. Unable to think. Unable to type. Unable to remain coherent. Such is my life. How I loathe her. She will kill me in the end. She will bring me death. Im not as young as I once was. Organs will grow old and rot. Things will just cease to exist. I will have to die and this is enlightenment? Possibly. Enlightenment is a place of bliss, yes? Close to it. Whos to say? Whos to care? I really have no say in this. I really cant bare to say anything. To k now anything. But who cares. Who would want anything to do with anybody else. Its all a crying shame. A criminals way in and a criminals way out. Myths. What are they good for? What good is mythology? What good are the Greeks? Why are they so hotly contested with the East? What is wrong with the East? What is wrong with the West? I swear, the Wizard of Oz had something what with the wicked witches of east and west and the good witch of the north. What a life its been. What a way. What a time. What a crappy day. I hate it. Its all so wild. So weird. I hate it. I saw a picture of her and now Im like, depraved. I love her. Theres no one else in the world that could satisfy that need that I have for her. I could never take on someone new. It would be too extravagant. A boy can only dream so far. A man cannot dream. He is impulsive. he does what he feels like doing. This is his life. I suppose. I dont know. Things are wild. Notice that I drop such questions as to whether this will get published. Hahaha. What satisfaction. What love. What life to be had. What a way it all is. How I wish for justice. How I pray for justice. How I want eternal rest on the western frontier. How I pray for peace. How I know that my life is upside down. How I need a new one. How life could be so much better. How life has been a lot better. All the time. My past was not so bad. I do not think much of it but it is satisfactory. Won a championship when I was young. Kissed girls. Took trips. Learned to drive. Had friends. Went to Europe. When to mexico. Now I write books. I work. I am working man. Oh how I wish I

had not given up on my dreams so easily. How I wish I had more opportunity. More chance. More needs. But I do not. America is an oppressor. The people, the democracy, she enrages. She is a dragon that must be slain. So I thought I was close to an ending but Im not sure. I might need to write a whole lot more. Just to get the point across. Something like that. I dont know. I just farted though. Shew wee bob. Jesus louises. If I could onlyfly in a jet plane. If only. Too tired though. Imagination super nation. Man. Tired as crap. Never give up. Not never. Not ever. Something like that. Man. I feel like a million dollars today for some reason. I guess. I dont know. Writing like this is very frustrating. I think. I dont know. Ill never understand my own gestures and habits. Things just get conflated. Confused. Blown up. Et cetera and so on. Something like that. I guess. I dont know. Things are wild. Surely, you, the reader, must understand that. Surely, right? Shew wee. Too tired. Never will I ever. Too tired. So what is there to do? What can I be? Is there anything to do or be? Can I be anything besides me? Probably not. But who cares. If only I could be something bigger. Something better. Something that illuminates the world. If only life were more grotesque. I guess. I dont know. Theres a few more kinks to work out first. I guess. Im not sure. Like, I need to get on good terms with my father. It can happen but not in the simplest of manners. Beach trip. Thatll be fun. I want to have sex there but the odds are so stacked against me. I always want to have sex but again, the odds are so stacked. Its all so wild and angry. So obtuse. Its just so upright. So evil. So wild. Id never imagine. But here we are. On the universal plane. Forever insane. Doing inane things. Kicking down doors and what not. Is it okay if I lie when I write? I think it is. The truth can get people sued or killed. Thats just the way it is. A lie can only torment ones conscience which is a lot better than death and lawsuits, right? Who knows. The truth can do some good. But the truth can also do great harm. Even I know truths that can ruin me. Tenfold even. Probably more than that. Particularly when these truths are told in certain lights. Thats where the real fun is. Jesus. Woe is me. Tiredness sets in. every time. All the time. Forever and ever. Amen. but who cares ya know? Who really gives a flying fuck? I know that I dont. at least I think I know that I dont. I may be wrong. Thinking and knowing are two separate things. This must be understood. Each and every time down the road. Down the path to fame and fortune. Yeah right. That path is riddled with all sorts of mystery. Mostly misery. Ill never fully understand all the aspects of it. It gets quite contrary. So there you have it, more reasons to keep writing. An end has yet to come. Ill keep looking for it though. Itll show up. Just not yet. Im still writing a book for heavens sakes. Jesus christ. Too tired. Just mowed some grass. Hell yeah. Big time ballin. Big time. Oh yeah. Big time. What the fuck. Hell yeah. What the fuck. What can I do for you today? I dont know. Is there anything to do? Anything to become? Is there anything that Im missing out on. I dont know. I just want some loving. Hell yeah buddy. Big time loving. But I cant get it. No sir. No sir can I get any loving. Its too complicated. Its too rough. It just doesnt happen. I love it. I guess. I mean. I dont know. Who does know. Does anyone here know? To ellen, Ellen. I hope that this message finds you well. I just thought it would be a good idea to say some things to you. Im not dying but sometimes it feels like it. To keep things bottled up for me is not my enterprise. Ive always got to express how I feel in one way or another. Some modes are harder to try than others. Like this one. Yes, I am a writer but I am not good at writing what Im about to write. Ive always had feelings for you. I just think you should know this because it kills me not to tell you. You dont have to respond to this message. All Im trying to say is that you really mean something to me. I think about you more than I would like. That should be a good thing but I hope that its not some unhealthy obsession. But seriously, Ive always loved you, ever since I first saw you in kindergarten. It was the very first moment I stepped into class on the very first day of school and when I saw you, you smiled. Ill never forget that moment. And as I got to know you growing up, I wanted you even more. I believe Im just humoring myself though. Typically its about the need to get rather than the getting. So I dont know. I know that I was mean to you in middle school. This continues to haunt me. I wish I had not done such things. Ive always tried to get

to know you better but was always afraid. When I drove you around in high school I thought that was my chance. I was wrong. I dont know if Ill ever get a chance. So Ive written this pitiful little message on face book. I cant believe Im writing this. I just wanted you to know these things. Actually, I dont. I just have to tell you how I feel. And Ive always felt strongly about you. I know you deserve better than me but I must tell you these things. I just cant live my life outright without you knowing exactly how I feel about you. I can only graze the surface though for fear of the reaction to what else I may say. I cant exactly describe how I feel but I hope that you have some hint. I mean, Id love for you to reply and say that you feel the same way but Im sure that you do not. Still, I read a lot about love. How its supposed to be, what its like, what it feels like. At times, I come close to labeling my affection for you as obsession. But I do know that not trying to tell you about such feelings is unacceptable. I can fail in this pursuit but I cant accept not trying. I really dont know what to say. I would take a shot in the dark and say that I want to marry you but I wont say that. I could never say that. The feelings are strong. Stronger than I can express with the written word. I would say that I want to have you, but having someone isnt right. It has to be mutual. This is not mutual. You could call this a really long crush. But at times, its a deep passion. I know that I never really got to know you but again, I was afraid. Feelings are hard to express, even now. I just had to tell you these things. I dont expect a reply, as it might crush me. By telling you these things you could easily devastate me. Im not saying these things just for play, or for writing practice (though I do write a lot), Im saying them because I cant stand them not being said. Youve always been so beautiful, so kind, generous, nice, easy to get along with. Yet, I find myself constantly at fault for what I did in middle school. God, how I hate what I did back then. It was stupid, immature, and selfish. We shouldnt have even been there in the first place. But thats about all Ive got. Id tell you more but I believe thats all Ive got. I mean you really mean the world to me Ellen. It would take at least fifty years to completely forget about you. Im just not sure if I could go that long. I know that Im probably facing utter humiliation, but at least I can tell myself that I tried to profess my love for the only girl that I ever truly loved. And thats that. So, Ive tried to express my feelings for a girl. I tried. I probably failed. Im serious. I tried. But failed. I did not convey the emotion that needed to be conveyed. I did not fully explain to her why I feel like I do. I dont know what to do. I tried. I did my best. Or something near it. Doing our best takes time. Always has, always will. Its crazy. But thats all I know. I tried. But to no avail. Theres just no saying what shell say. What shell reply with. I love her to tears. I just hope she feels the same. If she doesnt then Im fucked. I mean I really love this girl. Its just an unhealthy obsession. Thats all it is. Im sure Ill find the right one sooner or later. Its probably not her. And if not her then its either #1, #2, #3, #4, or a mysterious #5. Maybe even a #6. I dont know. Its kind of hard to say. But I said what I needed to say. I feel a little better because of it. Like I know that I wouldnt have done this on any other day. Today was the time. But thats about it. I want her so bad. I just dont know how to tell her outright. Thats the best I could do. And if the first time doesnt work then Ill try a second. And a third. And a fourth. Im on a mission to fulfill until completion. This is my calling. My life work is involved in this. It has to work out. If I fail, then I fail. I dont succeed. And it doesnt pan out. Shew. Ill get it right eventually. But I told her. I told her as best as I could. If that doesnt work then Im in some shit. Ill figure it out. I mean I said it real nice and everything. Did as good of a job with it as I could. But still, I feel the failure. But i told her. Thats the important thing. I told her didnt I? I didnt keep it a secret. If we ever do fall in love Id keep it a secret. Id hate for either of our friends to know about it. Plus, its more fun if its a secret. But thats about it. I mean it. I told her. I just hope she replies to the sound of the best response ever. If she doesnt, Ill be heartbroken. Yet again. I mean Ive loved this woman all my life. That is, if we include kindergarten as the beginning of my life and sophomore year of college as the end. Something like that. I hate it. I dont like it. I wish it would go away. Something like that. At least Im trying. At least Im moving forward. If the love is there then something must grow. Thats the key. Shew. If I could ever. I dont know. Things could be worse. Its not so bad. Its just got me a little wound up for some reason. I dont know why but there ya have it. Lost my train of thought. Always multi-tasking. Baby you dont know what its like to love somebody the way I love you. To love somebody the way I love you. Man. Im just tired. Mowed the yard today. Hard work. Never was a good fit for me. I hate mowing the yard. Just not a good way to go. What choice do I have? Besides, keeps me in shape. Something like that. Im too tired. Media is still having a field day with this Osama bin laden mess. Its pretty crazy. Never knew Id live to witness such a story. I hate it. Im not too much in favor of it. Never was I ever. Things are

crazy. They could be much worse. Just remember that. But whos to say. Whos to do anything any different? I dont know. Man Im tired. Walked into Kroger today and felt like a million dollars. Felt like shouting, USA, USA, USA! but resisted the urge. Instead I got the bananas and clementines. What a day. Made deliveries and wrote the best message face book has ever received. To the most beautiful woman in the world. I do love her. Theres no one else Id rather spend my life with. Shes got to be the one. If she does not accept this then I am crushed. It crushes me to know these things. To try and fail. I hate trying and failing. I like trying and succeeding. But its not a life or death situation. Though we do do the best to increase our lifes worth, happiness, and quality. To have a higher quality life is the key. Everyone wants the highest quality life. But its just about improving the quality of your current life. You must accept what youve been given and what has been restricted. Then, youll see what youve got to work with. Something like that. Life gets confusing. I hate it. But I do love it so. Its crazy. Its awesome. I love it. But there must be something more. Something to get. Something to speak out against. To speak out on. To speak for. There must be something that is worth knowing. Something to have with certainty. What morals we all must have to enjoy this life. What a way it all is. I hate it but I need it. I crave it. Its quite contrary. Every artist must consider his own art. In contention with the art of others. He must know his strengths and flaws. He must know how it goes. How it stops. How it handles curves. Whether it can hit a home run or have to settle for a bunt. Whether it can shoot threes or dunk it home. Settle for jump shots or penetrate up the middle. Who knows. Gotta find the open lane. Too tired. Too exhausted. Need some sleep. Writing at night is quickly becoming my least favorite time to write. Oh well. I guess thats my style. Just drift from one subject to the next. Something like that. I dont know. Things could be worse. Who knows. I dont get it. I like life these days. Its so televised. More television equals more happiness. Gotta love it. Really love it. I just dont get it though. How messed up it all is. How ghetto it all can be. How sordid. Friendship causes pain. Good old bob Dylan. Never understood his art. His craft. Correction: simon and garfunkle. I understand their craft. Theyre good. Bob Dylan I never got. But thats okay. Life could be a lot worse. Still, I write habitually now. I write like it flows through my veins. Like it belongs with me, in me. Inside and outside. Ice cream paint job. Clean on the inside clean on the outside. Something like that. I tell ya, Ive heard some good songs in my day. I would get engaged but Im unsure if any woman would want to engage with me. Thats the problem. I just dont know my own worth. People always negated my presence. My own existence. Stuff like this and that. Now this song is good. I understand this song. First presented by brian George. You, you got what I need. But you say hes just a friend. But you say hes just a friend. And repeat. Actually I hate this kind of stuff. Kind of disappointed in b Georges selection on that one. Crazy. Wild. Understandably so. Who knows. Life as we know it is quite swell. But these days, being a friend is a good thing. Most women want a friend and a lover. If you can be at friendship status then it all works out. Crazy as shit, right? Who knows. Ill never quite understand it. But thats about it. Done for the day. Too tired to go on. My heart will go on though. I guess. I dont know. Janis Joplin and landslide is coming up. Might just write a little more. If you dont understand Joplin then you shouldnt even be here. Joplins landslide pretty much sums up life. Gotta love it. Just the tune. The lyrics. Such a wonderful song. Well, Ive been fraid of changing cuz I built my life around you but time makes you bolder even children get older and Im getting older too. Craziness, right? Gotta love it. I know I do. Life is just awesome. Never could I ever live without it. Watching speed on the telly. Not a good movie anymore. Theres been better. If you see my reflection in the snow covered hillswill the landslide bring it down? Gotta love it. But thats about it. I dont care whats playing next. Life is over. As we speak. Just like that. Over and over again. Still believing that hallucinations make up a large part of life. Had one this morning. Thought someone was on top of me. Thought there were people outside of my room. It was crazy. Woke up and it wasnt there. Its like a whole other universe within a universe trying to fuck around with us. Its crazy. I cant handle it. But

I want more of it. I like it. Toughens up the mind. I like it. Thinking of dreams as hallucinations. There must be something to this. But what is there? What can there be? Mom came upstairs. Disturbed my concentration. It is imperative that I not be disturbed whilst writing. But who cares right? I think we all care. We care about our dreams. Our sleep. Our hallucinations. To try to stay awake from these things is scary. Sleep deprivation is no longer a big deal. Not anymore. Its crazy. I love it so much. This is such a big obstacle to living reality. Its so essential. Someone said serial last night in my dream. It was wild. Of course its so dark that its hard to notice anything. If you can depict things in your dreams then youre really into something. Because it must be the electricity from your brain or body reacting to the darkness. I mean the human doesnt put itself into such a vulnerable position as when it sleeps. Darkness, unconsciousness. There must be a way of creating our own illusions. There must be a way of being a part of the dream imagery. There must be a way of hallucination creation. Not sure how but there ya go. I think it has more to do with sentiment than anything. What we long for, what we desire. Thats what our dreams illuminate for us. So if we know what we desire then ought we to pursue our dreams, our desires? Whos to say. These pursuits can be scary, dreadful, or even hard work. Oft times the illusion is better than the reality itself. We couldnt be happier. Wed rather sleep than go for it in real life. For real life is very complicated. I want to be part of the real world but then again, its very hard to say. Sleep is so precious that its hard to say how the sleep would be affected with it all. I dont know. Lifes full of conundrums. So thats my spiel on dreams. Our desirous hallucinations. And noticing my dream trends its sex that we desire most with our most desired partner. Followed by a lack of inhibitions. Scary dreams usually produce excitement. However, dreams with greatly satisfactorily sexual experiences can be exciting. Im in over my head. Adventures are the way to go. Challenging the codes of the dimension is popular. Challenging perception is as well. Look at me. Dream expert. I dont know anything about dreams. Im not that good of a dreamer either. But I do like them. Takes our mind of off things. Why were there so many complaints about the material world? Because we cant dream about it? Whos to say. I like the material world. Gives you something to get back to when youre asleep. Its crazy, right? Who knows. Believe it or not Im already fatigued from writing. Coming up with stuff from memory is one of the more challenging parts of writing. Read last night that writing ought to be thought of as work and not art. So there goes my whole, writing is art, sort of thing. Geez. Now how do I express my life in artistic fashion? I dont know. Ill just become a writer. And writers write about things that happened. Things that have occurred. I remember a time in Myrtle Beach where we went to this pier and looked out over the ocean and watched the water. It was a nice sunny day. People in sandals. Sea gulls. It was a horsey trip but I liked it. I guess. I get no freedom anymore. No friends, no freedom. Et cetera and so on. I hate it. I really do. Things are just wild as hell. I hate it. Somy friends. What a day I have lined up. Probably play some video games, work out, take a shower, drive around, eat some stuff, watch some television, write some more. Something like that. If only there was something I could take to be more awake. Like coffee. Wish I had the will to make coffee. Coffee is hard to make. Theres a lot of things that Ive sacrificed for the dream. Im virtually useless. But I can write. Oh buddy, can I write. Gotta love it. But there has to be something else. Something more. Something worth another something. Et cetera and so on. Gotta love it. Right? Who knows. Ill never figure these things out. The reason Im single is that the opposite sex always finds a way of making me want to break up with them. Its crazy. I probably wouldve broken up with the only girl that broke up with me. Its just that simple. I guess. I suppose. I dont know. Things are hard to comprehend. every time. Gotta love it though. I know I do. Need to brush teeth. Hygiene is such a criminal. Robs us of time all the time. I hate it. Its just a menace the way it needs to be tended to. But thats okay. Ive got Jesus on my side. Such and such. Ive been saying the Lords name in vain havent I? Jesus Christ. Stuff like that right? Jesus. Oh well. Ill do better next time.

Too tired. Cant write anymore. dont make me you demon. You only want results. Youre not at all interested in the process. I hate you, demon. Jesus christ. What would I do without you, demon? Writing demon? What if Descartes suspicions were right? That there is a demon controlling our very perceptions? That would be something. A deceiving God. Not a bad idea really. Too bad weve been taught all the rules. Too bad. Oh well. Life gets better. I just know it does. It has to get better. Ill love it if it does. I swear I will. Things just have to get better. All the time. Forever and ever. Stuff like that. But thats about all Ive got as far as writing is concerned. Catch me on a better day why dont cha? Please. Do us all a favor. Im crazy, arent I? no. You thought you had schizophrenia but it just so happens that schizophrenia is misunderstood as dream walking. Being able to hallucinate whilst awake. Im not sure what causes the onslaught of hallucinations but it is either stress or sleep deprivation. Just saying. Things like this happen. I mean, if anyones perception has been messed with its mine. But then again, Ive seen God. So matter its all in clear focus. Who knows. Seeing God is rare they say. I say not. Its not that big of a deal. The priest cant read minds. He can only read reactions. And he is very sensitive. Ill give it that. For he said that no one has seen God. I have seen God. I have defied even the Bible. Hahaha. What a world, yes? Crazy. I love it though. Why do I love? Because. I dont know. I hate love. Never got me anything anywhere. I guess, anyway. People are simple creatures. You just have to smooth talk them. every time. But what else have ye? What should I do. Ive no time for writing. Its all so trivial. Gotta love it. Have a bad feeling that Ill have to weed eat today. Just one of those evil weed eating days. How I hate. How I loathe. How I never want anything. Jesus christ. Who cares though. I know I dont. life is wild. Too tired. Donezo. No more content to be had. Never could I ever wake up and write. I have to be sublime. People will call me the sleepy writer. Something like that. I guess. I dont know. Who gives a? What is there to be? What is there to see? What can I do? What can I be? Who knows. Im too tired. Slept in my contacts again. Never a good idea. I hate it. Never will I ever. But things just go kaboom sometimes. Just like this and that. Ratta tat tat. Too tired. Nothing can sway my mood. Nothing to write about. Nothing to come up with. Nothing to clown about. Somehow Ive connected thought to the keyboard. All my thoughts on the page. Hell yeah. It works out like that. Big shots, right? Shit. Too tired. Too tired. Just type it. Just get it done. Over and over again. Now and forever. Something wild and crazy such as this. Who knows. Who cares. Too tired. Had another dream. Or as I like to call them, hallucinations. Who knows. I dont care. Too tired. Stories have to have content. Books have to be well-written. This book is not. It should be but there ya go. Who knows. I know I dont. life is crazy. Love is not. Love is pure. Love is a crazy feeling. Got to love love. Got to hate man. Man is hated. Over and over again. What good is it anymore? Who knows. I know that I dont. dont is what I know. Over and over again. But whos to say. Who really wants to be taught anymore? The same old boring stuff? God. How I hate thee. Yes, you. The reader. I want nothing of you. I just want to write for my own personal gain. For no particular reason. Hell yes. Ah, jesus. How life can turn topsy-turvy. Too tired. Need some meat loaf. Need some love. Cannot find love. Love gets complicated. Turns into a lot of bad things. Over and over again. For one reason or another. Is it bad that the music on the television is better than the music on the internet? I think so. But who cares, ya dig? Who even knows. Who really gives a crap. Used to shoot craps. Cried over it. Crying aint no fun. Especially when its in front of one of your best friends. Crazy, right? Who knows. I know I dont. life is just complicated as shit. All the time. Ive done my studies. I understand what it is. Shit. Mofuckas wanting oil for themselves and shit. Yeah right. Oil stays in the most hostile region of the world. Its crazy but thats how it goes. And they can charge us however much they want for it. I hate it. More money for them. Lots more money. And the money goes to everybody. Its crazy. How in the world. Why in the world. Who knows. Ill never figure

this stuff out. Life is lunacy. Ill never figure out the right thing to do. Ill never figure out the wrong thing to do. I like to think backwards. To challenge beliefs. Stuff like this and that. Over and over again. Something like that. Life could be worse. It could be a whole lot better though. Just saying. Gotta love it though. I guess. I dont know. Life is real messed up. Shit though. Life gets crazy. I love it. I used to love it. Its not really all that good. I dont like it. Never did. Never would I ever. Never could I ever. Something like that. Shits crazy. I like the crazy. I love crazy. Crazy is my new hobby. Its the new way of the art of writing. They say picture it as work but I still see it as art. I kind of disagree but now it is work. I must work and work and work on this. This is my life work. Without it I would die. Its crazy. They call the man schwayze. Like Patrick schwayze. Crazy, right? Hahaha. Nothing to do. Nothing going. Nothing did. Just nothing here and nothing there. Everythings all used up. Its crazy. Its useless. Its worthless. What is it worth? I dont know. I dont claim to know anything. To write is the only way. To just continue to write. So on and so forth. And et cetera. Man this shit is bogus. All the time bogus. Never does it make any sense. Never would it ever. Still, typing is sin. For one reason or another. I hate it all. Wish I could be a bus driver like my dad. Thats the job to have right there. Jesus christ. What a job. What a life. The life of the bus driver. Shit. Id hate to have that job. Id hate to have any job. Id hate to be making money. Moneys just not my thing. Something like that. I guess. I dont know. I like life. Why dont more opportunities come from life? Its crazy, right? I mean, what the hell? I dont know. Things are just crazy. But what all is there. What can there be? Who knows. The reader. Every writer should have a reader, if not millions of them. I cant accomplish this. Not at this level. Not at this rate. I have to become my own reader. People read my stuff but its garbage. I want writing to be better but writing just stays the same. Oh, how I wish it would all just go away. The pure emotion of it. Its raw isnt it? Hahaha. Yeah right. Osama bin laden is dead. The news keeps telling us. Who cares. Terrorism is still up. Who really knows. I have no clue. Life is just a big bunch of miracles strapped continuously round one another. Yes sir. One miracle here, another miracle there. I guess. Might as well believe in miracles. Something like that. If not, then youll be okay. I guess. I dont know. Life could be worse. Life could be something of a delusion. This delusional state. What is that? How does one attain delusion? Ha. Like were seeking enlightenment or nirvana. Who knows. Who cares. Nothing more to write about. Just a plain nothing. The U.S. might as well go and retire. Its over. No more United States of America. Theyre going to blow us to smithereens. For no particular reason either. Something like that. I dont know. Things are wild. Who knows. Im tired. I quit. Writing is over. Never could I have ever loved it. Its unlovable. Typing again. No reason. 4:11 in the morning. couldnt sleep. Dreamt that I was going to be murdered in the bar down the road. Hated it. It was going to be a stabbing. An instant death stabbing. Wild, huh? I have ignorance. I wish I did not. Knowledge is costly. Everyone knows this. But how can we defeat it? I dont know. Parents complain of money. Nothing else to complain about, right? Geez. Too tired for this shit. Typing is a sin. Shouldnt ever be done. I hate writing. Its so annoying. It must be done. It has to be done. Whacked off just a few minutes ago. Felt too good. Thought I needed to write. Read somewhere that quantity produces quality. I believe it. I hope this is the case. I plan on practicing in order to make perfect. I guess. I dont know. I dont care. Im too tired. Just leave me alone please. Jeez. Too tired. Too kempt up. Nothing to do but doing itself. Nothing to teach. Nothing to be. Nothing worthy of anyone or anything. What would life be without sin? I dont know. Dont care. Sin isnt the worst of things. I dont care for it. I dont need it. Send it to hell or something. I guess. I dont know. Life is wild. However the fuck you have it. You can have it your way. I guess. Our ways arent very good. Theyre not efficient enough. Never will they ever be. Its like, I want my fast car now but I just cant get the money. The money. Ill never figure out how to get the money. The money is something that people strive to have. If not just for working wages. Working wages pay the bills. I have no bills. All my bills are taken care of. I just dont understand it. I dont care for it. Such is life. How I hate my life. Its so cold and brutal. Even though the sun was out shining yesterday. Hope it rains today. I just like rain for some reason. Not really. I dont know. I dont care. Too

tired. Please help me lord. Life is just a rotten barrel of scum isnt it? Jeez louise. Masturbation is such a visceral experience. I hate it. Needs improvement. Not good enough. Sex. How Ill never have thee. Ever. Ill never get what I want. Success is simply unattainable. Good health is good enough, yes? Who knows. Clean water. Got to love clean water. Too tired. It could be the middle of the afternoon and I would be too tired. Tiredness is just a part of my life now. Youth is over. My attitude needs changing. Ive still got youthful hopes and dreams. Too tired for them. Need older things. Age is a plague. We get so old. For no reason at all. Its crazy. I just hate it. I could never hold down a steady job. Those are the plague. Too tired. Too intrusive. Too evasive. Too controlled. Too mysterious. Too idiotic. Man. Just feel depressed. Just feel bad for myself. I hate myself. I hate it all. I just want out of this mess. Wish I never went to college. Wish I never spent those out of state tuition dollars. Wish I wish I wish. Need some time alone. Need some time to think. For one reason or another. Im not sure why. Time. All we need is time. Weve got plenty of time. every time. All the time. All day in fact. Even longer than that. Pally whack. Slapjack. Big stack. Etc. too crazy to be tired. Too tired to be crazy. Crazy isnt anything. I think were all born with crazy. Kind of unavoidable. Always have to undergo some delusion. Some superstition. Something that is contrary to the real. Fuck Washington D. C. Ill always hate our nations capital. For one reason or another. I suppose. Hard to hate it though. They honor the warrior. The warrior is hard to honor. The warriors bravery makes for stupidity. Smart people find them hard to deal with. I could be wrong. I know Ive got the ignorance in me. Haha. What a day. To call ignorance a disease. So fun. So funny. Too tired for this life. Need to seek out death. Death is the appropriate response to life. Not sure how to die. Could I die of pure exhaustion? Probably. Whos to say? Thought I died this night. Fear is just another hallucination. Fear animates the hallucinations. Anticipation is what animates us. Its crazy, yah? Shit. Too tired to care. To know. To endear. To want properly. To ask anything outright. To want. To have. Anything. Everything. All the time. To be in love. Is that so hard? I think so. Mine never came. Nor will she ever. Life is just a big mix of jumbled ideas and emotions. How I hate it all. Ill probably never forget that one song, I feel it all, by Feist. Such a good song. Fan blows on me. I cant get it to stop till daybreak. Thats when Ill be fully awake. I feel awake now. For the first time in a long time I feel really awake. I like it. Makes me feel good. Feel fresh. Thought its only a passing feeling, it counts. Chuck Hamilton is new superintendent for Marion County Schools. Craziness. What it all boils down to, I imagine. Whos to say. Who can say. Are our mouths stitched shut? Probably. Im dead. Must go back to sleep. Good night. So al-Qaeda vows revenge on the u.s. for killing bin laden. This is awesome. Obama puts more lives in danger than he saves. This is not right. I knew I shouldnt have celebrated. I knew I shouldnt have rejoiced. I knew this was a curse. I knew bad things would happen. I mean it. This shit isnt over. I dont even know these people or why they hate us but there ya go. Its just a matter of what it is. What it will be. How it is. How it will be. I dont know things are wild. Crazy. I guess. Theyre certainly not beautiful. Its all just a big hoax I say. Hell if I know. Things could be worse. They usually get worse anyway. I fear invasion. Its almost imminent. These people have war tactics that are just too much. I dont like it. But what else is there. What can there be? I dont know. I digress. Pandemonium. What can I write about? Had a dream that I was back in middle school. Asked someone if they had any smoke. They did. Asked if I could pay. I didnt. things are wild. All the time. I call this one a dream because it was pleasant. No hallucination. I mean its like they put all the equipment for the motion picture in there (the head) and let you watch whatever. Its incredible. I love it. All the time type love. What to do though. Gas is too expensive. Work is too hard. Relaxing does a number on the body. Love is outside of the question. Fun is expensive. Theres really no choice. I just have to write myself out of this mess. Over and over again. Just writing for peace. Because even though the inward struggle cannot be made manifest, it will succeed. Even though they teach us to hold it all in, this stuff has to come out. I must

express it. They eventually teach us not to cry, but thats about it. Then they teach us to be tough. What a life. Watching gangland on tv. Its generally pretty good but I have no real relaxation method for the television. I could move the wooden couch and then move the chair but that requires effort. Id rather not give the effort for television. Something like that. Too tired for stuff. I think Im really tired. Like a non-recoverable tiredness that just plagues every aspect of life. Enthusiasm is as weird as a good mood for me. It just does nothing. Its too excitatory. Makes man too vulnerable. All the time. Every time. Something like this and that. How it all is. Makes me mad. Gives me madness. Insanity. Love that sanity. Sans. Sane. Insanua. Haha. Making up words. Insanua. The newest of the latin family. yeah right. How I love. Chances are that theyll never attack Kentucky. Kentuckys too remote. Unless they want the gold and try for the fort. Which they wont. thats like asking for the end. Theyll probably go for the big cities. Something like that. I dont know. Theyve been ordered to go after civilians, too. I just dont understand. Shouldnt our allies be helping us? Are we that cursed? Who knows. Too tired to do too much. Energy levels are typically low. Writing requires a bit of skill that is hard to master. Takes levels of awesome unprecedented. Laziness kicks in rather easily. Took a lazy man to want to be a writer in the first place and it just makes him lazier. But its not the end of the world. It could be worse. I guess. I dont know. Things are weird. Need to increase my vocabulary. Vocabulary is a hard enough word, right? Who knows. Things are wild. Listening to some hardcore rap. Rap is the stuffing in the turkey. Gotta love it. Negatively influences me. But like I can help that. Jesus Christ. I dont even understand how rap got this big. How it went this hard. Hip-hop. Its crazy. I mean their distant relatives put in the work and somehow theyre reaping the benefits. Its crazy, really. Gotta love it. Right? Love. I hate love. I hate hate. Both are needless. Or are they needful? Who knows. Needful things by Stephen King. Read some of it but couldnt stick with it. Books are hard to stick with. Short tasks are the way to go. Something like that. I dont know. Im too tired to make any real decisions. Welp, thats all I can write. Pitiful I know. But its something. Jesus. How it all really is. I hate it. So full of nonsense. Not much to type. Nothing to type really. Nothing to do. Nothing to become. Nothing going going gone. What to do what to do. No one really knows. No one really cares. All is desperation. All is gone. All is lost. Cant believe my eyes. Cant believe my ears. Dont really care. Dont really fear. Rhymes and rhythmical prose are out. Theyre done for. Theyre a goner. Stuff like this and that. I hate it. Life is obtrusive. Its wild. Its weird. I hate it. Wish life were better. Wish I couldve been a better father. Words my dad should say. I guess. I dont know. Who really cares. Who really knows. I do know that the song that Im playing really rocks hard. Hell yeah it does. But what else is there. What can there be. Im on the last fight in fight night champion and its a doozy. Takes more time than anything. I dont like it. Oh well. Probably never finish the game. Its all a big waste of space in the mind anyway. Oh well. Ill never get it right. Never will I ever. Too tired to do anything. Just not enthused. Dont have to do anything. Thats the key. Thats the problem. I havent really gotten into trouble with anything. Except debt. Student loans. Out of state tuition. Stuff like that. I dont like it anymore but there ya go. Life is just wild like that. I guess. I dont know. Life could be worse. I dont know. Things have been better. But whos to say. Whos to pray. Whos to do anything for a guy named Ray? Or for the devil rays? The sting rays? Thats okay. Nobody needs a sting ray anyway. Music goes too fast for me to copy the style. Ill never learn to read and write. Things are just so contrite. I remember dissociative identity disorder. I liked it. Actually I didnt. it was pretty crazy. Really crazy actually. But thats another story. A story worth telling but not left much in memory. Something like that. Ill never know. Things could be better. Want to play basketball but Im uncertain for as to why. I guess. I dont know. Things are pretty wild. Want

nothing of anything once again. Im bipartisan, yes? Who knows. They describe the government like it means something to people anymore. But it doesnt. never really meant anything to anyone. But thats okay. Jesus Christ. Ill never truly understand anything. Iowa was like the biggest discombobulator. I remember going to the house where Kurt Vonnegut had lived. It was crazy. Sun shone on it and everything. He died that day. Something like that. I dont know. I dont care. Things should be better than what they are. But they are not. Life is just a miserable little thing we like to laugh about for one reason or another. Im unsure of why but we do. Oh, how we rejoiced at Osama bin ladens death. And how wed rather not fear the onslaught of al-Qaeda towards the U.S. Thats what bugs me. Theres Al-Qaeda in the U.S. Theyre everywhere. They just need more money and weapons. Arms and such. And this could be going on as I speak. It wouldnt be very good in an ideal world, but I guess its something. Life could be worse. Who knows. I just know that one day Ill move to California. Nah. I could never do that. I have to live here. In Kentucky. This is my home for one reason or another. Im stuck here. I like it but it kills. I want to go back to Iowa. What a great place to start a new life. Losing feeling in my fingers. Too much typing. Never knew Id be a typist. Thought Id handwrite everything and then type it. But no. doing that takes way too much time and effort. Such and such. Who cares anymore. Life is over. Life is complete. I have nothing to live for. Nothing to strive for. My life is perfect. All I wanted was this and nothing more. Over and over again. Just like the way it is. I guess. I dont know. Things could be better. I guess. Im not sure. Welp. Looks like nap time. Peace. Too tired. Writing is a habit. Get like me. Something like that. But who knows. Knowing is awful. I would never. I could never. Knowing is the worst. Free verse. Writing what I feel man. I aint one of the Cosbys. something like that. Where did aint come from? Im not and I aint. close enough to each other. Something like that. Writing and me. We go together like peas and carrots. At least I think so. I dont know. Things could be worse. But theyre not. They could be better. But theyre not. Theyre in between. Just sorry really. Bad little deals all over the place. Just a bad time for real. How do these things happen. Clickity clack go the keys on the board. What a drastic situation. What a bad time. How it all just goes to hell. every time. Just goes to hell. What of it. Who really gives a damn. Sam I am. How I hate thee. How it all doesnt matter about anything. How nothing really happens. How it all just disappears in the end. How I hate to live. Hate to love. Hate to howl at the moon. How I hate the world. How it all just goes down a big sewage drain pipe in the end. Nasty ass shit too. Jesus Christ. How Ill never really understand a lick of it. Leaves of Grass. What a shitty movie. It wasnt that bad I guess. I dont know. Nothing left for me to do. Nothing left for me to grow. Living really isnt all that easy. Living is the worst. Living is a habit. Lungs have to breathe. Et cetera and so on. I hate it. Gotta love it though. Love is the answer? Violence is the answer. Answers everything. Money is the sinews of war. Life is as much a part of life as war is. War is just part of the bigger equation. I just dont understand it rightly. Never will I ever. Life was never meant to be this bad. I dont know. I think its a pretty brutal existence in all honesty. Time to stop believing in the delusion. People kill and do a lot to stay on top of the food chain. Something like that. Who knows. Who cares. It never really adds up to much anyway. Something like that. Ill never understand. Life is just meant for wars. Not peace. Something like that. Id go to war but Id probably die. Dying. I dont believe in the afterlife enough to die. Ive done too much while Ive been alive. This is all there is. Boo hoo. How it all minces into nothingness. How it all just hates itself. How I hate myself. How it all just condenses into a big blob of shit. Something like that. Anxiety. Must be present. Anxiety is the force for which we need and have. Stress is there. I hate stress. Its like what nobody needs ever for anything. Thats when theres too much going on in your life. Something like that. But who cares, right? Nobody. Something like that. I know lifes been good and lifes been fair, but lifes never been good and fair. Maybe it has. Like I really know. Whos to say. Whos to go against their own word. Things are wild as shit. Thats just the way it all plays out. How I miss, how I dont care. How it all gets blown to smithereens anyway. Shew. I could use a girl friend. To get a friend you have to be a friend. I think I understand now. Things could be worse. Extra ordinary. I think I understand things better now. I guess. I dont know. I hope. Things could get

worse. I dont know. Life is drab. Life is tough. Life is full of shit to take care of. I mean we have to go to church every week. What bullshit is that. I hate it. My dad is an abomination. Ill never like him for anything. I hope that nobody comes to his funeral when he dies. Hes just that much of a jackass. Seriously. I dont know why but theres no way I could kill my father. Something like that. I could never attack him. I could. Maybe ten years from now. But I couldnt do it now. I never thought of him like that. But he is. Alcoholism has taken him. Hes dead to me. Too tired to contemplate. Too wore out. Writing is a disease to me anymore. Takes a lot of concentration. Something like that. I dont know. Things are just weird. I guess. I dont know. Ive never had to meet these types of circumstances. Its just a whole big drag. Something like that. Who knows. Who cares. I want but I cant have. I dont care. Life is full of failure. Too much going on. Later. What must I do to maintain sobriety. What can I do. Who am I to do. What is there to do. Can I be myself anymore? Can it all just unravel in place. Is it even meant to be worth anything anymore. Can I think for myself anymore. Am I worth anything these days. Probably not. Being worth something is tough as shit. But I love it. Loving is the game but all the fame goes to the people that we dont like. Those people are wild and crazy. Something like that. I dont know. Have no clue for sure. For sheezy my neezy Im off the heezy believe me. So squeezy. Please, dont ever let me talk like that ever again. Something like that. I have no clue. Not having a clue is cramping my style. Something like that. I hate it. But thats that. Simply this and nothing more. What is there to say. What is there to do. What can there be. Who knows. Knowing is power. Nothing more to say. Nothing more to do. Go find a shoe, blue. Something like that. Love thy neighbor as thyself. Something like that. Keep going at it. Forever and always. Something like this and that. With a tally whack big splat. Shew wee Bob. Skiddle daddle. How I love the night life. Went to cozys last night. Really connected with Lauren Bell. But the conversation was short. I loved it. I had love for her. But it ended rather abruptly. Things were wild as shit. Always were, always will be. But I loved her. Dreamt about her this morning. What a coincidence. Should probably go to Grandmas today. Id rather go to church. Something about it all just whispers in my ear. Something like that. I dont know. Smoked some weed. Drank some beer. Life was cruel. Et cetera and so on. But whos to say what anything is worth anymore. I dont know. Life is cruel. Never was it ever any good for anybody. Jesus Christ. Something like that. Who knows. What is there to blame. Is there anything that is blame-worthy? Probably. It was almost revolutionary that speech. Something like that. Life is pretty unpredictable. Philosophy is like common sense but its always hard to do anything about. I hate it. Life is just that messed up. I hate it. Never liked it really. Never could I ever like a part of it. It was all so miserable. Mesmerizingly miserable. Something like that. Must stop the weekends out drinking and smoking. They are so harmful. Must start workout regimens. Who knows. Working out is boring. I could never work out. Working out is the pits. Especially when we must work those quickly fatigued quick twitch muscles. I hate those. Something like that. Wish I had some dope. Id smoke the shit out of it. But cocaine. Saw some people do some cocaine last night. Wont say who. Ive done learned my lesson about illegal activities and associating peoples names to them. Its a crime, really. Crimes against ones honor. Theres a time and a place and a writer is limited to his times and places. Thats just the fact of the matter. No matter how you look at it. Its just that simple. But its not that bad. Never was it ever. Who knows. Id contribute more but contribution is out of the question. Everything is smooth. Hemingway said that when everything was going just right then you should quit. I refuse that information. I like rolling along like a ball of fire. Just typing away. Tippity typer the Chinese chicken. Chickity China. Never really understood that song. But who cares. Who wants to know. Black Sabbath is pretty badass. Listening to Wasp or something like that. Its not that bad. I like it. I guess. Im not sure. My name is Lucifer please take my hand. Crazy shit. Too tired. Must I write like this for another day? Writing like this is just pure misery. Something like that. I dont know. Its pretty crazy. Who knows. I mean life is just pretty fucked up. I guess. I dont know. I couldnt do anything worth anything for anybody. Everybody wants help but now they want good help. Its hard to find good help they say. I say fuck that. Nobody wants to help anybody. Not even the best of us would dedicate

their lives to helping others. Helping others is a fucked up business. I never liked it. It was all a matter of wild liberating statuses. Something like that. Like Facebook statuses. Something like that. I dont know. Life is just jacked up. Crazy as hell really. I wish I could make it better. Wish I could. But I cant. Life is just that miserable. Led Zeppelin Kashmir. What a song. Gotta love it. Was talking to one chick but another guy stole her from me. I loved it. Nah. I hated it. Life was just better off without that sort of thing. Wish I couldve been into things a lot more. Wish that I were a better, something or another. Wish I could. Wish I would. But I cant. and Im not. And things are just kind of funky. All the time kind of funky. All the time. But who cares. Life is just as miserable as it gets. Here in Podunk, USA. How I hate it. How things could be worse. How life is just as complicated as it gets. How I hate the world. How it all just devastates. Oh well. Life gets better. Some how or another. Watching Troy. I hate it. Have to go to Grandmas. must make way down there. One way or another. Want an education but staying in Lexington is harder than I could ever imagine. Would rather be in Louisville but that means transferring again. I hate it. Transferring is kind of a tough job. I hate it. One guy said he hated all of humanity last night. It was just one of those type of nights. I swear by it. I guarantee it. Something like that. I mean I have no clue. Life aint for me anymore. Something like that. How I wish it would all just go away. But wont. it never stops. Never quits. It just keeps going. Theres no killing it either. I guess Ill understand when Im thirty or so. One day Ill be old enough to tell the difference between everything. Someday. One way or another. I guess. I dont know. Life could be worse. It could be better. But who cares. Nobody. Nobody cares at all. And why does this trouble you? Because I cant see past the point of the matter. Its as simple as that. I want love but no getteth. I want the righteous but no seeketh. I guess. Now its The White Stripes Icky Thump. Kashmir took long enough. I just dont get it. It never really makes sense. Ill never really get used to the meaning of anything. Itll all just have to mellow out one way or another. Something like that. Life is pretty spiritual when you get down to the brass tacks of it. Something like that. Something like this. I guess. Im not sure. Man. I just wish things were different. That we didnt have these certain needs that constantly plague us. That we must seek and fish out if we are to survive. Survival of the fittest is my weak point. I consider is heresy. Faithless. But I do like how it forces some to get up off their butts and get the ball rolling. Its awesome, really. How it all is. I guess. I dont know. Things could be worse. But theyre not. Its all just a bunch of satisfactory little deals. Something like that. I dont know. Id rather not care too much. Caring kills. I think. I dont know. Life could be much worse. I think thats pitiful. How were all on the brink of judging whether life could be better or worse. Its all just a silly business. Its not really all that grand either. Its all pretty solid I guess. I dont know. Life could be better. I guess. I dont know. Watching Achilles go after someone. Keep listening to some good rock. Its awesome. But I like other things. Liking things is past me. Things go beyond me. every time. Love is all around. Love is one of a kind. Love is something Im unaccustomed to. I want love. I guess. I dont know. Im not sure. The quest for certainty. Must I quest for certainty? Probably. Certainty is a tricky issue. I hate it. Its all so mad and menacing. I just dont like it anymore. Wish I had more of it. Wish I could get a piece of it. I guess. I dont know. Things are wild. Crazy. Transient. Whatever that word means. Probably means something good. Just sounds beautiful. Writing is done. Ive got my pages. Sayonara. To write. Its difficult. Nothing to really write about. Nothing to care about. Devastation is me. The adversity of the world is something else. But what else can there be. Who knows. I dont know. Things are wild as cheddar cheese. Please. Give me some Louise. Tired as hell. Nothing to write about. Nothing to go on and get into. Nothing to do. Nothing to be. Nothing to seek out. Too tired. Told someone that I actually write too tired when writing while tired. And its true. But theres really nothing to write about. Im at a loss for words. Im always in the way of something. Everythings always wild as shit. Always. I love it though. Life is pretty forlorn. Life is pretty bogus. I hate

it. Life is tiresome. Always and forever. Now and forever. Somehow. One way or another. I guess. I dont know. I know, but Im not sure. Something like that. Had interesting conversations last night. Slept in the back of a truck. Bad times by all. I hate bad times. Bad times are good for no one. I just hate them. I hate them all. There must be something good going on for real. Something that can express feeling, thought, and emotion. Deez nuts. Bitches. No one knows. Something radical. Something ultimately ridiculous. Something like this and that. Something wild and wrong. Something so criminally ridiculous. Dont know. Hmmmagical apparitions. I dont believe in my hallucination theory. Hallucinations are distinct from dreams. But still, must we believe in every word ever fed to us? I dont know. I doubt it. Something like that just doesnt register with me. For one reason or another. Things are always criminal for some reason. Its wild as shit. I dont care. I dont know but there ya go. Things get auspicious if you know what Im saying. They just do. They get so fucked up that they just dont make sense anymore. Its been a while, Ill give it that. But there ya go. We all live on this drug called success and it only tastes good every once and a while. Every now and again. But some people simply dont know how to control themselves. Something wild and crazy like that. What am I up to? What is belligerent? My eyes are my worst asset. They just fuck up here and there. Must cleanse my contacts daily. Hard to do really. Things are wild. Life is free. Such and such. So on and so on. Like I like it like that. Things get weird and wild. All the time. Like Ill ever understand. Itll never really add up. Things get wild sometimes. Get crazy. Get weird. Oh, how I hate. Man I wish I had bagged me a gal last night. Theyre elusive as shit. I can never get a good one. Theyre all so wild and mischievous. Something of a criminality to attain. Ill never understand how it all really works. Jesus Christ. Computer. Desktop. Laptop. Blacktop. Man how I hate. Writing though. Gotta love it. Love that Im finally getting to do what there really is to do. Something so wild and free. Something so reckless. I just cant believe. I just cant imagine. Its all so mysterious. So ambiguous. So awesome. I guess. I dont know. Certainty is a queer little thing. Need more time. Need more space. Need more air. Always need more time. They just dont give you enough time anymore. They never would. Its a cruel device. Time. It haunts us all. I can feel myself getting older all the time. Its horrible. I hate it. Theres got to be something better than hate. Or worse. Something like that. I mean, who can really keep track of all this stuff. I know I cant. life is too complicated. Too multiplicative. Something like that. I cant help it. Things are wild as shit. Ill never live to see the day. Living to see days are wild as fuck. I hate it. Life is just one big jumbled mess. Its to wild and free. But there ya go. Things get stupid. Things get ignorant. Things just dont work out in general. And thats fine. Well manage. But however, the hell you see life, thats just the way its got to be. I guess, anyway. I feel life is controlled by outside forces that no one can truly handle or manage. However, it all comes together Ill never know for sure. Things just get wild and crazy. Things will always haunt the shit out of me. Ill always be scared to pieces. Always and forever. Ill never truly get over how any of this really works out. Its all so wild and crazy. But things work out. In the end. Generally. Something like that. Hoodoo. Voodoo. Whatever doo. Something like that. I guess. I dont know. I was so drunk last night. Things were wild as shit. couldnt help it. couldnt be there for the whole shebang. couldnt understand how it all worked out really. It never really works out. Working out is part of the whole process. I guess anyway. Ill never fully understand. Its all so weird. Ill never forgive it. Things just fall apart. All the time. For no reason. Writing. God how I hate writing. Everything. Anything and everything. All the time. How it can all just burn in hell. God how I hate things. God how things are bad. God how things could be wrong. God how I hate. How I loathe. How things are so wild. God how things are really fucked up. What would anyone do. What would the next guy do. Why is it what would jesus do? why isnt it, what would that schmuck over there do? What the hell is going on? I have no idea. Life is too cruel. Too mischievous. How I just want it all to burn, burn, burn. Up in smoke. Up in flames. Et cetera and so on. I just dont understand half of anything anymore. Life is just too precious. Life is just too radical. How I hate all of it. So the jews got the money because the Christians didnt want it. Now the Christians want the money. The jews are in quite the spot. They do set their foot down at Israel though. How it all is. Unbelievable. Incredible. Stuff is messed

up. How I love thee, life. How I hate thee, world. How it all blends into this big storm of colors. How I miss it all. How I want it all back. How I want the old me. The old life. The old way. How I wish it would all just come back to me. Please, baby baby, please. What am I to do. What is to become of me. I go too fast for my own imagination. I guess. I dont know. Things are wild as shit. I love it though. Life could be much worse. Mucho worso. Too tired. Just got done lifting weights, running, and biking. Plus I had to drive to get there. That was a feat all by itself. Youve got to love it though. For one reason or another. I guess. I dont know. Man I got drunk Saturday. Things were wild as shit. I guess. I dont know. Trying to listen to this philosophy lecture and type at the same time but its not really working out. More interested in writing than the lecture. Thats my problem. More interested in writing than in school. I want school but I really really want to write. Maybe one day Ill get back to it. Who knows. Maybe thats my niche. To get the degree much later on in life. After Ive gotten some success writing, I guess. Thats the plan. Get the degree after having written some books. Thats the precise key. I would love that. Life would be so much better. Im just that much more dedicated to writing than I am to learning. Who said learning was a part of the writing process? Who says we have to know anything about anything? I say the writing will stand for itself. Something like that. Over and over again. Just like that. God how I love it. Thanked Patrick for the beer Saturday night. He let me have some beer. That was pretty nice. I love people. People are the best. Being the best is the best. I love the best. The best things in life are free. The good life. God how I love it all. Must be due to the good mood from having worked out. I really have to watch it. I might get too fatigued to drive home. Thats how I feel sometimes. I get really fatigued and I just feel like dying. And dying isnt good. Dying is something that ought to be avoided. Something like that. But whos to say. But on to the lecture. Analytic propositions. Mathematics. A theorem that it must be the case. Discovery of tectonic plates is a modern discovery. Geology is still a young science. A posteriori. Results of observation. Trying to figure out what the causes are behind those phenomenon. A priori. Prior to experience. Descriptive. Regimes are based on consent or divine authority or utilitarianism. Analytical statements about the world can have scientific certainty. Knowledge requires certainty. Descartes and his contemporaries thought very differently about science. Prima facie. You have to suspend belief about your concept of science. Early enlightenment wouldnt say things were certain because of meaning of words but because theres an act of will behind it. Of the arts (Hobbes) some are demonstrable and some are indemonstrable. Power is in artist himself. Can reduce the consequences of his own operation. Where the casues are known there is palce for demonstration. Geometry is demonstrable by lines we make ourselves. We make the commonwealth ourselves. Demonstrable? Civil philosophy. Commonwealth. There lies no demonstration but only what they maybe. No certainty about earthquakes. Claims are fallible. Corrigible. ?. We make the triangle we make the commonwelath we have privileged access into the making but God made the planet so we have limited access to the causes. The workmanship ideal. ***. Knowledge in these terms. Makers knowledge. Ultimate foundations theological proposition. God has intimate knowledge of the universe because he created it. Making is a source of knowledge. Knows causes of earthquakes because he made knowledge but we can have God like knowledge because god gave us the power to make things. Makers knowledge. Some constraints on our kinds of knowing because we are also made by God. What he did for human beings is that he gave us this creative capacity to act like miniature gods. Did this above all creatures. Tormenting idea. Locke Thomist. Believing theologian christian throught his life. Worried about puzzle. Can God change natural law? No? God is not omnipotent. Yes? Natural law is not a system of timeless universals. Idea of natural law. Some timeless universals. Appeal to natural law to sa that Nazi germany was an evil regime. Locke was concerned about the logical problem with natural law. Seems to undermine gods omnipotence. God can change? Undermines the possible universality. Tortures himself as to how to resolve this. The Command Theory. The Workmanship Theory. God is Omnipotent and let the chips fall where they may. Thought something couldnt have the force of a law without being the product of a will. Gods knowledge of his creation. Makers knowledge. God has makers knowledge of his creation. Two other features.

One-- translates normative considerations. God owns what he creates. Has rights over his property. We are gods property. God owns everything because he made everything. We can behave as miniature gods in owning what we make. Learn how to make things. Just like that. Knowledge and ownership. Rights, entitlement. Two--will come up later with Marx. What gave lockes theory its internal coherence was that it was a theological argument. God created the universe and has makers authority. Nothing else makes sense without that. One of the big projects of the enligtenment is what happens when you try to secularize the workmanship ideal. People want to hold on to this basic structure of thinking. Very appealing but try to attach from its bearings. Find it problematic. Want to convince people that its powerful and important regardless of religion. How to maintain structure of ideal. The early enlightenment conception of science. We introspect into our own will and understand with certainty what we have created. Individual Rights. Gods knowledge to Gods ownership. To sum up workmanship ideal state of nature has law of nature law teaches all mankind to not harm one another. Man being the workmanshipi of one omnipotent and wise maker. They are his property. One community of nature. The inferior ranks of creatures are ours. This should tell you that lockes theory of rights are basic. We are gods property. We cant be one anothers property. Dont parents make and own their children? Wilma. God gave the world to Adam through a system of inhabitants. Well, I can prove that you are a closer descent than the next guy. Kings and Queens of Europe got authority because they were closer to adam and eve. Closest got the royalty. Locke says no. god makes child and uses the parents as his instrument. Parents simply urge child and cant put soul into child. Child is Gods creation. Felmer, velma. Workmanship idea gives us a fundamental status. We are all equal in the sight of God. Were all equal before God. Revelation which gives us an account of good things. King David that the earth belongs to the children of men. We all have the same rights to the common as everybody else. No sense that Adam and his heirs have some sense of priority. Thirdly. Its very important for Locke to say that there is no authoritative eartlhy interpretor of the Scriptures. There may be ambiguity. Men set themselves up to be like this. By meditations attain knowledge of cannot be looked upon as peculiar. Authoritative knowledge cant be the favored to anyone. Political leaders differ in religious matters. Cant rely on anybody to settle them. Nobody has more privileged access to gods knowledge. Lutheran idea between man and god. Everyone has to read the scriptures for themselves. Nobody can settle that disagreement. Everyone must settle it for themselves. Hugely important in politics. If there is a violatorthey can .provides basis for the right to resist sovereign authority. When you are ordered to do something and you read the scriptures. There is no earthly authority that has the right to contradict you. Who else might locke have been thinking about? The slaves? No. England. 1680s. Different kings competing and the pope. Worried about the pope. Lockes letter on toleration. Wide view on toleration. Catholics shouldnt be tolerated. Pope sets himself up as authoritative interpreter. Every individual is sovereign. Care of souls cannot belong to civil magistrate. True and saving religion consists in persuasion of the mind. Cannot be compelled to anything by outward force. Any articles of faith or forms of worship. No penalties. ( not proper to convince the mind) cant make you believe anything. There is no authoritative interpretation of the scriptures in this world. Just to summarize:::: workmanship idea. Preoccupied at certainty. Creativist theory of knowledge. Translates over into theory of rights. Workmans authority over creation. Know what we make. Secondly, we own the right to the worlds waste of God. Whats given to mankind in common. Just as little or as much as everybody else. Property, animals, land. All have right to use it. Nobody has right to stop anybody else from using it. Something like that. Adam inherited both goods and property of the world. We have common rights to creation that god put before us. Third, we have equal access to word of god. This is what binds all human beings. We have to obey it. What if we dont agree about what it means? Second treatise. Jesus.

Each individual is soverign over himself. Cant be made to believe things. Right to resist authority of the state. Political theory is constructed. Theory of knowledge. Theory of rights. Secularize it. And explore it. Try to modify it but it doesnt go away. Problematic as it is, very few people will ever want to give it up entirely. And that is how Jimmy Osbourne plans on doing well in college. Hellz yes. I have a little success. I can now try harder and gain more success. I like this. I can do it. Put my back into it. Life will work out. I like this a lot. Shew. Ive really got to write better. I think I need to read. Adios. Ramble gamble. Scramble for loraine bramel. The brambles. Something like that. All the time. Forever and ever type deals. For one reason or another. Not sure why. But theres got to be some reason for some of this type shit. Something wild must be going on. Somewhere. For one reason or another. Type stuff. Life is a pickle full of salt. Who knew. Stuff is like, what? Like whoa ya know. Stuff like this and that. For the skill of it. For the thrill of it. Gotta love it all. Something like that. Gotta go with the flow like they do. They do it right. Something like that. I mean they really rap those afro-american people. Its incredible. For some reason. I love it. Just talking their heads off. Gotta love that. Shit. How tired am I. how tired can I be. How tired is it all. How tired. How it all is. For realz. How I love my momma. How I just dont give a fuck. How things could be a whole lot worse but theyre not. Gotta get back to the baseness of life. Write what I can write. Et cetera and so on. Gotta love that type shit. Forever and ever. Just like that. Forever and ever. Something like that. All the time. Forever and ever. Something like that. My life messed up on me. Back then a moment ago. It just went faulty. It has its fallacies. Over and over again for one reason or another. Whos to say. Who can really say. Who can really get down with the jigga man. Who even wants to. I know that I dont want to. I dont want much really. Just a good life, right. Who knows. I know a good life is impossible. We must work hard for the life that we want. And working hard takes a toll on ya. For one reason or another. Not sure of how that stuff goes. Stuff goes well. I guarantee it. Every time. All the time. Forever and ever. Wish I could. Know I can. Know I couldve. Back in the day. When theres was some haze. Back in a daze. Its the latest craze. Man Im tired. Too tired for the real theme of it all. Hot like a mo fo. Something like that. I guess. I dont know. I cant really tell you the truth. The truth is too harmful. It hurts. I hate the truth. It aint worth anything. Something like that. But there must be something good about the truth. Somewhere. For one reason or another. Somehow. Someway. I dont know how or why but there ya go. Things are just fine and dandy. Yes they are. All the time. Forever and ever. God how I hate my life. How I hate it all. It all just needs to get up and die for real. Something like that. I dont know. Knowing is impossible. Knowledge is the key to success. This computer is hot. Too many functions going on at one time. For one reason or another. Who knows. Things could be worse. Things could be better. Forever and always. Alackaday. Forever my nigger. Hell yeah. But who really cares. Who really knows. Is there anything to discover. To know about. To fear. To contemplate. For the contemplative man is surely happy. Yea