2003-10-12 - 11:26 a.m.

Recallection

Sitting with my box of deep fried fish skin it begins to filter back. The night through the haze. A manically good time from what I hear. Drunkards on mushrooms with multiple handsfulla bottle rockets and snappers.

On the way home I�m crossing the street at the behest of the little white man and when I gets 3/4 the way across the 4 lanes I see a Chinked out Acura replete with neon fucking runners. I stop in his path - as there hadn�t been a green, left-turn light for 15 seconds or so � and he stops at my knees. AND HONKS!

�DO YOU SEE INDICATION YOU�RE SUPPOSED TO BE TURNING LEFT HERE, FUCKO? SHOVE THAT FUCKING HORN UP YOUR SPERMY YELLOW ASS, CUNT!�

And the little prince makes the �come here� signal with a single finger. A good mushroom and bourbon bender with no confrontation is like sex without scarring � I was MORE than willing to play THIS game. I stomp over to the driver�s side window, rolled 3/4 way down.

A 17 year old mutt-fuck decked out in his Asian knock-off Armani and entirely too fragile looking princess are inside. I hate these little fuckers, they�re everywhere around here. Kids get shipped here by their rich Hong Kong daddies and are set up alone in luxury digs with more money than Turner. There�s something fucking amoral about seeing a huge number of teenagers driving $80,000+ customed rice rockets and it always makes me fume violently.

I get to the rolled down window, neutral, but ready to play, when he SPITS AT ME! Without thinking I short punch the partially open window and hear the lovely tone of something breaking under duress from deep within his car door. The window bends nearly to his forehead as the guts let go and he has this PRICELESS look of fear on his face as he peels off into the night.

His girlfriend must have been AWFUL impressed at his handling of this one. Crosses against traffic, nearly hitting a pedestrian, has the audacity to FUCKING HONK, gets his car broked, nearly gets punched in the yip by an angry white man and to top it all off�spits on his own car.

Yeah, that was the funny part. He never came close to spitting on me � he couldn�t clear the inside of his fucking window and when I punched it I saw a thick, white, spermy line snailling a path south.

I�m not at all sorry for punching at his face. I wish I�da hit him, although I know that�d�ve gotten a little more sticky. He was a cunt and got called on it, �nuff said. It�s these Little Alamo stands what make people think, shock �em the fuck back into reality, one by fucking one. Every time he thinks about making a turn against a light � at least for a while � he�ll remember the hopped up white boy who almost made him bleed, and maybe he�ll think again.

Jee-ZUS my head feels like a box of Ebola monkies.

0 of you fuckers have been accounted for.

old shit. - newer shit.

2003-10-12 - 10:22 a.m.

Another Morning-After-the-Night-Before.

Eyes like oranges. Orbitals too tiny. Too constraining. Feels like my lenses will touch lenses soon - eye to glass.

Fish skin, gai lan and beer. Need it like sizzle needs steak.

What did I do to my place last night? Jeee-BUS.

0 of you fuckers have been accounted for.

old shit. - newer shit.