2003-12-02 - 7:31 p.m.

Quote This.

”Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Bread, eggs, coffee.”

- Leo.

The lungs are a tad sluggish lately. Weed-a-plenty. But the way I figure it, lungs are like knuckles. You don’t actually need them to live, but their nice to have. You misuse them too much and they get a buildup all around them. They get calloused and hard and raspy.

I have at LEAST 1 3/4 lungs left, 4 perfectly good fingers and two very opposable thumbs.

“He who approaches the temple of the Muses without inspiration in the belief that craftsmanship alone suffices, will remain a bungler and his presumptuous poetry will be obscured by the songs of the maniacs.”

- Plato.

Really fucking pouring out there. Sounds like the lyrics of, “Time” by “Broken Lung” Waits.

“…when you’re east of East St. Louis

and the wind is making speeches

and the rain sounds just like

a round of applause.”

Fin.

0 of you fuckers have been accounted for.

old shit. - newer shit.

2003-12-02 - 10:17 a.m.

Bastard Worker Spawn.

The Underlings found humour in my query of WHO exactly the Hilton sisters are. Too much humour, as a matter of fact. That much entertainment because I know more about real pole smokin’, muff divin’ porn stars than I do these two.

I let them laugh. Let them eat Jos Louis’.

One or my dancing girls says later, “Its SO funny because you talk about fucking nanotechnology and books we’ve never heard of, you’re smart…but you’re so STUPID when it comes to pop culture!”

“I AM NOT stupid when it comes to pop culture. 80’s pop culture.” After that…not so much. I still think Snoop is new school.

“OK, Pops. I Love Lucy is on at 5 tonight. On that square talking box in your livingroom.”

“BEGONE DYSENTRIC WHELP!” and I throw a shoe at the closing door.

Hard to get good fucking help nowadays.

0 of you fuckers have been accounted for.

old shit. - newer shit.