February 2012
64 posts
Protesters get evicted from Occupy London by bailiffs and riot police in the middle of the night. This country is Fucked.
I’m quelling the rage in my heart by Tweeting abuse at Kim Kardashian.
Fucking hoe bitch of a mother and her girlfriend have drunk all my beer. They’re like lesbian Hitlers.
Spent all day sleeping under a desk and tasting stomach acid. Living like a king.
Stayed up all night and for some reason was just sick so hard it felt like burning hot puke was coming out my eye sockets. MYSTERY VOMIT! A joy to behold.
“I’ll cook us dinner, we can get stoned whilst watching Star Wars and fuck.”
This is legitimately the best thing any girl has ever said to me, I might cry.
I have been cast adrift in the vacuous world of post Glee depression.
As Francis Bacon once said, He who delights in solitude is either a wild beast or a god.
Maybe I think it’d be swell to have a dick. Lesbianism wasn’t exactly made for instant gratification. Sometimes I’d just like a blow job down a back ally.
Immortal questions like, Why do I name all my playlists in French? and, Why does it turn me on to watch gay guys fucking?
My mother has an appointment to find out whether she has a deformed mouth, or if it’s just cancer.
I wonder if you ever did block my URL on each one of your browsers, or if in the end, you just couldn’t bring yourself to.
Blake makes friends but only for a minute he prefers the things he orders from the internet and Blake’s been having trouble with his head again he takes his pills but never takes his medicine
So break me in two, peel back my ribcage and cover my heart with love poems that you will burn some day.
-A.G
I am dead, I am a rotting dog.
All or nothing.
S becomes a sex worker: A 3am conversation.
- I just complimented a prostitutes hair and they’ve sent me a friend request. - I’m becoming a rent boy. - Not because that’s fun - but because it’s easy to give men hand jobs. For money. - She’s giving me proper advice and stuff. - “You are worth the price…you must demand to be treated well.”
- Are you getting actual real pointers on how to become...
In the original story Sleeping Beauty is poisoned and left for dead in the forest. She is then found by a nobleman who rapes her, and only wakes up during labor nine months later to twins.
Happy Birthday Kurt Cobain. R.I.P Hunter S. Thompson.
“Sometimes I look at humanity and it’s love of cupcakes and I want to gouge out my own eye’s. SURE cupcakes are fine, in fact delicious, but fetishing them is just irritating.”
- Says Samuel Cooper, for no reason in particular.
If the sun exploded, we wouldn’t know for 8 minutes and 20 seconds. Light and gravity would take that long to reach us. Then we’d vaporize.
Seriously though, is it so hard to find a nice girl who’ll just beat the shit outta me? Surely you should just be able to look at a person and think “Hmm, yeah, she’s totes the type that wants to be punched in the face at the point of orgasm.”
Puked over just about everything that exists last night and still managed to get up at 9 to order gig tickets like a pro. Special Brew mother fuckerssssss.
I have no job and no prospects so I’m drinking can after can of %9 beer on a weekday and smoking someone else’s cigarettes. On the upside, NoFX tickets go on sale in 8 hours yo!
It’s too hard.
And then there was the ever-present football player rapist, they were all in love with dying, they were doing it in Texas.
"HAPPY VALENTINES I MIGHT HAVE GIVEN YOU...
I am positively enthralled by today.
She gave me a Valentines Day card at work, I was flattered. I followed her home and knocked on her door with a big bunch of flowers. She must have been on the toilet or something, because she didn’t answer. I invited myself in, where I found her crying for some reason. I gutted her, and ate her spleen. Then I ate her small intestines. I then started chewing on her stomach. It was all acidy...
We are protected from so much pain. For example: graves. The earth’s roots and brown-black blood are busy covering the soft, violated bodies of our loves. Death is a secret, and the rain with its many hands washes off the streets to the gutters death’s thick surprise. For example: A flower is the most beautiful lie.
- Arkaye Kierulf.
And then I spent an hour dramatically listening to the Moulin Rouge soundtrack. And then I decide to purge my mind of all this tomfoolery by watching The Human Centipede II. And then I watched the first 40 seconds and realized now was most certainly not the time. And then Whitney Houston died, and now here we are.
Drinking beer alone and watching The Notebook with my cat. Happy almost Valentines everyone. I think it’s important to take note when your Saturday nights reach such a level of bleak love sick dejection. I call this a mile stone.
Did I just lose two followers for cutting my hair? Today we drove along the sea front at dusk. I think I’d forgotten the beauty in a sun set, it had been so long since I’d seen one. I got drunk and passed out for two hours.
I think above all else it is your pessimism, things rarely turn out differently if you neglect to let them. I think sometimes that logical reasoning is the...
I got a new bowler hat so all other news is rendered obsolete. I’m learning hat tricks because I’m unemployed. I ate a goats cheese pizza, it was drizzled with balsamic vinegar. I drank a 4 pack of beer and thought a lot about the future. I’m going to cut my hair, I like cutting my own hair because I find it cathartic. I need something purgatory. The human condition amuses me, I...
All of these things operating in synchronicity: like ringtones, flat-screens, theater, cuisine, fashion, sushi. I don’t want to call it “virtual reality,” so I call it Far Side Virtual. If you really want to understand Far Side, first off, listen to [Claude] Debussy, and secondly, go into a frozen yogurt shop. Afterwards, go into an Apple store and just fool around, hang out in there. Afterwards,...
Jasper sums me up in a sentence.
”Jessie: Romanticising night time public blowjobs since… probably forever.”
Marla’s philosophy on life was that she could die at any moment. The tragedy, she said, was that she didn’t.
I want to shoot a gun. I want to be submerged in water. A clear still lake. A vast expanse. I want to wake up.
With a pair of scissors I cut off two small knotted strands of green hair, I twisted them together with my fingertips and put them in my wallet along with my other useless trinkets of past. I might need them one day. I nearly ordered myself a dozen black roses.
Today I drank a lot of...
Today I swigged absentmindedly at a double Jack Daniels and coke and looked at snow. I spent an extortionate amount of money on a vintage red velvet bow tie to save me from myself. I got drunk and cried about things that should be long buried. I’m a wreck and maybe you prefer it that way. Everything reeks stale, of cigarette smoke and past.
You could have been my king.