When It Becomes Clear That The Future From Terminator 2 is Happening:

"Robots everywhere
Only solace in haikus
Now I'm exploding"


thank you, Groupon.

sleep less

the world is upside down.

the ease of your words; the impersonal factor that pierces my skin.
I can't face the fear that follows your footsteps.
I'm sure you're satisfied. I'm sure your high sight stints the reins anchored to the eyes of your diety. bring them to their knees,
just as you've done to those that no longer see.
the world is upside down.
the world is upside down.
the world is upside down.

interesting articlesssssssss

OOOOOOOOOOOOH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Dissent in the age of Obama
http://english.aljazeera.net/indepth/opinion/2010/10/2010105104959212813.html

Tickets to the gun show
http://english.aljazeera.net/indepth/opinion/2010/10/2010101882610450695.html

US-trained cartel terrorises Mexico
http://english.aljazeera.net/indepth/features/2010/10/20101019212440609775.html

The Iranian dilemma
http://english.aljazeera.net/indepth/opinion/2010/10/2010101862212355822.html

jack bauer, eat your heart out

I have to make tough choices in life alllllll the time. for instance, color schemes:
THE DECISION MAKERRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

I was really hoping for the orange n yellerz, but my argument wasn't compelling enough, I suppose :[

I've always said....

back from california and straight into a four day weekend. but my saturday afternoon SUCKED. for one, mah bike conspired against me and then someone stole the lock I threw in a bush. maybees I start from beginningz, yes? so, I woke up, and thought real hard whether or not I should take a shower first ORRR just go straight into a bike eating FRENZAYYYY-afterall, it had been a month since I got a chance to even take mah beautiful cervelo out for a ride-BUT I showered. and showered. and showered. now, before I left I came up with the brilliant idea of taking off one of my water bottle thingies-why? I'm still not too sure. anyways, I got water, and headed out to the cliffs.
I soon realized that my back wasn't used to carrying so much weight AND I was already 62.3% outta water 20 miles out. AHAHAHAHAHA.
I made it though and started heading off some trails. LO AND BEHOLD! a fork in the path presented me with a choice and I chose left. my rear wheel obeyed my commands that I hammered into the pedals-the front decided to rebel.
my chain rings grabbed me by my ankle and let me have it. my precious carbon steed threw me right into the dirt. did I deserve this? I'm sure it comes with the territory of stupidity; its jaws have been locked onto my ass since the ripe age of 4 years old and always had an interesting way to show off the scar. is that a run on sentence? maybe. doesnt matter. I got up, got angry at the teeth marks down my shin and started screaming obscenities at my bike. ofcourse afterwards I swept it for cracks and scratches.
I is WEARY.
after I straightened the handlebars-not thinking of the carbon steerer-I got back on and let it go... right into a giant mud puddle. at first I had no idea why my bike had slowed down until I seen that I didn't have enough clearance between my frame and tire for all the mud I had picked up. FUCK IT. I got off, (screaming again) picked up my bike, flailing it around like a caveman would, then dropped to my knees in self defeat. I was tired, dehydrated,and dirty as fuck. I loved it. except for the ant bites.


well, I decided to turn back and head for the lake to get the mud off. I just laid around and took pictures because I was too lazy to do anything else.

it was a while before I got all the muck off, but I perservered. I got back on after I realized I had a quarter of a water bottle left. I started freaking out cos my lips were really dry. I thought the end was near, even though i woulda been fine with some chap stick. stupid mexican.
I rode back and wheezed up the hills with one shoe on. oh, did I forget to tell that part? well. Ilostacleatsoihadtoridebackwithoneshoeon. there. it sucked, but it was really funny.
I got back on post around 530 and went to get my lock so I could grab some water at the store.
shuffle shuffle.
rustle rustle.
nothing!?
FUCKING NOTHING THERE.
the holy bush, the sanctuary of my bike lock, had been desecrated. it was jihad from that moment. I swear, when I find out who stole my bike lock I'm going to beat them with it. and I WILL find them; not many people ride bikes around here.
anyways, I've learned my lesson-don't put bike locks in holy bushes. people will STEAL them. I'LL FIND YOU, BASTARD!
so, ummm, I rode back (all depressed and shit) to my barracks and could barely stand once I slumped onto the floor. my back gave up on me. just...gave up :[
so I just layed there, all uncomfortable and shit, completely helpless. I was beaten. that whole afternoon was just a giant joke on me.
I need a fucking mountain bike.

CALIFORNIA SUCKS!

When you're in the army.

if a tree falls in a forest and know one's around to hear it, does it still make a sound?

fuck you, cockfungus. who cares? WHY would anyone in their right minds ever ask such a stupid fucking question, anyways? I'd give my life for the opportunity to punch the motherfucker that came up with that-right in their forehead.


I can honestly say I am ashamed, but will endure shame-because I'm alright with selling my soul and being a hypocrite. I wrote a big retarded explanation of it all, then realized how fucking stupid I was being.
"you talk a good one, but don't want it."
I am a part of the weak that feeds off the strong. I am a tool. and I want to be a human again :] yay!
WRONG.
does that really mean anything at all? to be human, is that any different from being a toothbrush? don't read into that too much-but if you do, you'd prolly say to yourself, "he's genius," which is an acceptable conclusion.

am I a user or a tool? does it matter what you call it? if you rely on tools to accomplish what you desire or need, does that not make you-in itself-a tool to meet the objects purpose? one might say an object has no purpose unless given one by a user, though a human can be either one. so there really isn't a difference is there? we have as much purpose, and as much REAL use as, well, everything. human beings are useless. everything on earth is useless. everything in existance is FUCKING USELESS. we have nothing inherent except what is and what we end up shoving up our own ass. if every human being was completely rational, their heads would spontaneously explode. a symphony no one would ever hear.
I think I wanna just say fuck you to everyone on earth, fuck their lovers and daughters, then go jump off a cliff thats not high enough to end me. I think that'd be kind of funny. as agonizing and as fucking pyschopainfulretarded as that sounds, it appeals to me-I've already knocked a couple of those wives and daughters off the list to begin with, and have told approximately .0000001% of the world's population, "eff yoo". its a good start.
but maybe that is too unrealistic of a 4th&goal. being drunk on a boat and getting smacked in the face with an owl-then falling into a river and drowning is more realistic. I almost like that one better. the more pathetic it seems to me, the better. its a great thing-immortal from its conception. being alive is pathetic. its fun, but pathetic nevertheless. completely pointless useless pathetic, but just as poetic.

I'm gonna go drink another gallon of coffee now.

sepiida

its raining.
never thought it would-not here-not now... pretty stupid, right?


hmmm.

the air tastes of concrete, its harsh on my throat. the shelter of the trailer I'm on, wraps around my shoulders-I feel so warm.

you know how much I love the rain.
the sounds, sight, smells.
you know so much about me. I miss you, by the way. it's been a while-and the last time wasn't very ideal.
I have dreams of us drenched from running through the rain, sitting next to each other to keep warm-on the ground, against the wall of my apartments. a draft howling through the front door, we huddle and wait for the wind to stop. the relief of warmth returns. the dying sunflowers strain and become unstrained with the laughs and squeels of the children in the court yard.
we don't talk.
we just sit-I stare at the death-you watch our toes. they overlap one another, your big toe beating down on my pinky. I lean my head on to yours and the rivulets of the st. johns absorbs my weary mind. the smell of the parched pavement is overwhelmed by the essence of your waves. as I sink down to your bottom, like I have so many times before, the thrashing from the storm becomes muffled-and an afterthought.
I close my eyes, and we sit.
we sit there and we sit there and we stay there. the rain does not stop. it does not let up. but I am safe in your currents. I am safe in the grips of our toes.
I am safe and warm and calm, and I am happy to be.
in the darkness of the skies in the darkness of the night, dreaming-in the darkness of your watersmeetingcoolpristinebeautifulmesmerizingspringblue. springblue. the source from which your murky waters flow. pureclearblue to wateroakbrown. I'll never tire of stirring your waters.
at night. in day. under trees. in rain. in heat. in snow. in sand. in dreams. in blankets. in hand. in truth: I feel at peace.

there's no reason to leave.

Paguroidea.

A Million Little lies-no longer on paper, but in a calcareous complexion.

"I stare at her, let my smile fade it won't fade inside. I have never felt so safe or calm. This hard, damaged, drug-Addicted Baddass Girl sitting in front of me with her black hair and her braided pigtails and her clear water blue eyes and her scars her scars the scars on her wrist naked beneath a plastic watch makes me feel safe and calm."

a story absent of quotes and reality-true to its nature. but not you.

you are but a parasite, taking refuge. an outcast. a fat girl. an unloved daughter. you adapted an identity to feed off of to feed off of those around
-it.

it, thats what you are. thats what you've become. sold-out for the safety of others-those that care less about you, but atleast pretend to. they build the walls of your cancerous shell.
you're no deeper than the puddles of blood, that litter the dark alleyways of this mind.
try as you might, those who care to peek, shall see behind the lies, the pages, the lines. behind the surface scars and see what really hurts.
who you are is not wanted. who you are is never you. you exist to live as others, in others you need to see-that maybe someone will love you accept you-no interest in how you're vain.

its almost empty, you know. your tank is running low. which identity will be next? which victim will you perplex-duplexed in how to free the mind of a constant crippling rhyme?

why...lie?
why...lie?
why...lie?

I might have called it selfish, boy, how I was wrong.
you'd have to know IbetterthanThey, to posess some sort of self.

so read what you desire to be, absorb the typed syntax, adapt its DNA-to display in your house of wax.

19 something.

its 0539 in florida. 0439 in texas.
0239 here. I have five more hours on shift.
I am bare.
I am irritable.
I am anxious to know these mountainsvacantskiesandshamelesscreatures.
four more hours and the world shall turn upside down.

you have to see it.
standing on a starless sky. a glowing emptiness to dissolve in.

two more weeks.

my lips are cracked from god's clay kiln.
no moisture escapes these eyes-not these days or those ahead.

the grand canyon stands tall, I'm sure it does.
maybe one day we'll see it's hues
-like everett ruess and his navajo wife.
some would say a backdrop... in absentia of life.
I think we know better.

one day we'll go back.

and carve our names;
let our existance be known.
This is our sanctuary,
Our home, our world.
It belongs to us.
Regardless of the ground from which it sprung,
In spite of the sun that reaches its shade.
Our love has encased Haven from rains that follow.
its creator-the earth.
Your submission under me conquered its terrain.
I’ve destroyed lips that warrant worship.
scarred knees, quaint as the clouds.
filled your body, to vanquish that thirst.
a thirst for slavery.
you are mine.
And this ours.

I come inside her, we lay on our bed of blankets and grass. the body heat dissipating and the cold creeping in. I hold her.
she looks into my begging eyes,
"there is this world,"
and my hand trails to the echoes of civilization,
"and then there is that world."
her eyes follow the direction, the words are picked up by a breeze of trangression.
"this is my domain. here, now, with you at my side. it is Being. but, see,
you belong to both places-and not simultaneously.I have been cast out from the simple act of exhaling. everything that has become you is rooted in that world. I cannot take you from which you grow. you will be left to stagnate and starve, with me as your witness. you've known this, always. though you act as if this polarity is of no importance-that our fractured meetings in time are sewn together, seamlessly."
her nose nestles into the valley of my chest. my hands are cold, and my heart fights to be nearer.

truth.

I lay their on my cot, the world, and the people in it, unwelcomed. absorbed into the pages of idealism and desired history that should have been present in time. now. here. always. I'm struck in the head-in the moment-the future already known. a tennis ball had planted itself to the left side of my head. I didn't know how to respond except to overdramatize the pain. they laughed. I laughed. uneasy and hurt in my pride. I got up after a few minutes of moaning and groaning, picked up the ball and made aware its existence that ceased in my grasp.
"give me the ball, delgado."
"fuck you."
the struggle that ensued was not neccessary, but only existed to meet one's own delusion of superiority-and my submission.
"give it back"
it pings off my chest.
I walk toward the laughs. the pride that fuels my torment;the fury.
the anger flushes through my extremities and channels itself into a fist.
firmly on his face.
silence.
silence.
the tears well up in his eyes, more is hurt than his body.
pride. security. establishment.
anarchy in one's mind has reared its intent.
I am not to be taken lightly.

I am not afraid of anyone, but myself.