Scrambi Eggs' Journal|
[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 12 most recent journal entries recorded in
Scrambi Eggs' LiveJournal:
|Thursday, June 26th, 2003|
|YOU NEVA LIVED IN THA PROJECTS...
My brain is a restless and artful sabatuer of any attempts to harness it's own talents. And you wanna know about my biggest heartbreak? It came when I realized I didn't facinate anyone as much as I do myself...
|Sunday, February 2nd, 2003|
I know I'm a mess he don't wanna clean up... not even a line of my own, as it goes, but a proper mantra for us wrecks... mythical, magical, you gotta see it, threatening, deafening, you wouldn't believe it, you said this was what you wanted, so now you gotta be it... there's a legend locked inside you, you'll be reckless till you free it... pacing, racing circles in your trusty little pen... always ending up where you've always been... resenting the routine you perform yet again...why retread you're tires when they'll only sit and spin... worn down, bald, and busted, dangerously thin... as quick to rip and tear as your neglected skin... that shrouds you like a buriel flag... detering any future friend... there is a tale, a course like history, mummified within... so much effort on the eulogy, too busy to begin... maybe NOT indulging your senses is the true original sin... no God of mercy sends you into the world, to prove you love him by handing back the gifts you were given... made by his crafty hand, he must a planned for us to be livin...
|Saturday, February 1st, 2003|
|POUND THE FAGGOT IN THE HEADGEAR
The silent conclusive evidence between the rich kids and the free lunchers is the teeth. Snaggley teeth tell a third world tale.... A very common dream is the one where your teeth fall straight out, or they get loose and wiggley.. all analysis of that collective fear claims that your subconcious haunts you with a root down insecurity of mediocrity... "Can I do this this? Am I worthy? Will I fail? Will I ever get laid in this headgear? Why is my grill bumpy?"
|Saturday, January 25th, 2003|
|I do it for you, honey baby can't you tell...
I've heard that the gauge of sensitive intelligence is the ability to creatively associate the chaotic happenings around one's self into a tune they identify with as their lessons from destiny... it's the uniquely human way they make sense of the mindfuck their lives are. Could we be so lucky as to find a quality editor, who understands, builds upon, and polishes our research... The big break between me and the church came when it stubbornly clung to the notion that original sin put us forever at odds with our senses... bullshit... I'll prove it again... I'm a nerve cell, a recepticle, a student, a story, a socio-Pan...
|Wednesday, December 18th, 2002|
|HE COUGHING UP SNOT ON THE DRIVEWAY
Okay, back to as normal as I get. What a shitty forkin week. The reel was running one cel delay, and not starting to make consider a healthy junk habit. Growbie is back home, and we had beer and chicken. Says he's going to give me money for x-mas, and so's pa... all's I got to give is hemmorhoids, and the promise that if I ever make a few dollars I'll give back a little. I sure have managed quite a while without working... it's nuts. Hopefully I'll get to SF to see Johnny and his new loft. As a housewarming gesture I'm going to shatter the Freud poster before it roosts above his bed and creeps out the new generation of on-toppers. He makes me so crazy that it's started to become structural in my life. It feels like home. We'll wrestle soon. Proof you never fall out of love, and that there's no orthodoxy in any of my traditions... Tomorrow I go with Jos to get her HIV test results. I'm sure she's fine. I think I pissed Lisa off big time the other night by leaving with Hobbes. My Beloved Bucket retuens in three days... Life is boring lately...
|Friday, December 13th, 2002|
|Charm of a braided noose
Maybe I should be emabarassed but I'm not. You go exspecting some kind of hero behavior out of me... after some whiskey? No apologies on this end. I've made an ameteur art of jackass gymnastics... I've got stunted growth plates, after a training regimin so intense... you knew that, freak, that's why you dug me... fur better and fur worse, till rat-tail falls apart, so help me god... do us both a favor and ignore me forever... have mercy, a-hole.. there's plenty of nerds in the sea, and those are awful sweet cars they're washin... gag on a turd fucker, k
|Friday, December 6th, 2002|
|Mother fucking fuckety fuck...
"You havn't stopped believing in love, have you?" Naw, course not... I've just come to see that the good part, the tingly part, is super human... it's like sunbreaks. You couldn't harness it if you tried, so I don't try. I'm either lazy, pussy, or genius. So, you gotta go, I know that. I'm gonna cry for Argentina, but I'll pretend I've got cum in my eye or something:)... P. Muffin, I guess this is about you too. It's about all of you. Nobody's gonna make me sad 'cept Mr. Gump... Being serious SUCKS!!!!
|Tuesday, December 3rd, 2002|
Ugh. My guts are un-happy. I think I may have got myself in a li'lle bit of trouble. Why can't some people just play? How could this muppet behave like a 2 year old after such a vulnerable exposure of fear of his graying felt. I found the whole thing wholey pathetic, so was the that the obvious component that has freaked him out? Of course I thought he was cooler! He's Fozzie the Bear! How was I to know? Politics are stoopid. I'm over it, ya forkin weirdo. (P. Muffin... do not decipher this cause it's not bitching about you. Since you'll be the only one reading this I'm sure, I'll direct shit right to you. Kiss)
|Monday, December 2nd, 2002|
Wow... my period actually started. Just when I was with the idea of being Robo. Ever worn a Swatch watch all summer? The plastic ones? You never take it off cause you don't want a dumb pale wrist, so come fall when your brown starts fading you unhinge it. "No...", you think, "couldn't be. That smell isn't coming from me... Ewww." A closer look at your wrist finds long rotten flesh. You flip over the dial to your watch. It is melted and eaten away, replaced with a smeg that incubated all summer on your arm, and smells like a long forgotten apricot. Yea, that's about how I'm feeling.
|Boil your own noodle, Lawnmower Man
This is fun. Avuncular: refering to the uncle. Learned that one today. Use it in a sentence please: My erotic standard was forever set by the avuncular freak-fests of grammer school. Peanut butter for desert. Nums... if only I had some of those mini M&M's I might stop hysterically sobbing. Hey Capitol "H", do you think it is reflective of you that you get these loonies in your sphere? You torture and you like to be tortured. Na-duh. I have eaten so many words, and don't tell you the half of my endeavors. I can't expose secrets for my own ego-oey purposes... I just wanted to you to know that I thought you were extra-ordinary. I'm the biggest nerd you will ever meet. Nonetheless, I would take her to the fucking mat just to prove a point to you. I do not declare my instability as a direct result of any trauma or chemical discrepency, in a toe-to-toe pilot shoot for the Monday night movie "My shitty childhood" I will outsell any medicated bitch you bring to the table. Know it. You once said it was a malice thing that made her and me different. It's in me, it's just not my weapon of choice. If we came to a bare-knuckle brawl I will kill her, mangle you, and blacken my own eye. The sheer rediculous gayness of all of this is the bittersweet syrup on it. If you wern't so goddamn cute. If you didn't have that pubescent crack in your voice when you get all exited reading Strongbad's new entry I would run you over with my truck three months ago. Oh... yea, happy three months, I think... Oh yea, take 2: THe Vu called. They lowered their standards, pass it on.
|2 CORNDOGS FER A DOLLAR!
My brother hates me now cause he caught me having spaghetti sauce for dinner. I explained to him that it's like that Italian soup gazpacho, or gargamel... that cold soup that's just sauce. Gourmet ghetto. I had Cherry Coke and margerine for breakfast, so I had to slip in some kinda vegetable based pseudo-meal. Tonight's a full moon, which might explain why I woke up all hateful and couldn't shake it through the day. I may be pre-menstrual, if that even happens anymore. I've decided bleeding is gay, and last century, and going to the doctors to figure out why my young reproductive system is an amniotic wasteland, is even gayer. I'd rather not know. Plus, this way I can focus on the modern me and volunteer for cyborging, without having to be tied down to any little miracles. Besides, on the plane to Portland last week, I had a muscle spasm in my shoulder trying to restrain it from cold-cocking an infant who was gurgling and getting on my nerves. I want to go into the kitchen/closet and get more sauce but then Emeril on the couch might start in. My blister hurts. I miss Rue. Speaking of all things Blanche.. I entered two poems in the paper anonymously. Well, I made a few pen-names out of Golden Girls references. Weird... but I didn't want my name associated with them this time, cause I was too cranky to enjoy my own words. I thinking Johnny-cook-a-lot is asleep. Sauce...
|Riedy ro ruff ruff ruff
Mucus is created when a cell sloughs itself off rapidly in order to cleanse itself of the offensive. Ancient Mayans used to go around severing heads and draining the skull snot into granite cauldrons. They would boil the phlegm to a think paste and send it in care packages to the starving children of Cabrini Green. Any left over was kept for a ceremonial lubricant and pomade. That's why there are so few ninjas today (more on that later...) Considering myself a stellar amatuer anthropologist I have attempted to draw paralleles between the kindness of the Mayans, and neurosis I cough up like black tar loogies. How could something so soft make me so angry? Evil little Gremlin... you know who you are. I spit loogies in your hair when you aren't looking. Kiss, kiss.