Tuesday 1006 PM June 16th, 2020
If you were to list how many reasons the date was stated in such a deliberate way, everytime for so many years means A) I don’t have much to say and B) It helps orient me.
I don’t have much to say aside from being ‘over the moon’ about this HP keyboard I found in a box of keyboards outside an elementary school in Williamsburg I came upon when Helen gave me the wrong address to her sister’s, twice. It was wrong the second time but I found it, and days later was told in passing the address was 5 off the second one I was told. Am I dating an english queen or a retard it depends on the day, the weather, the circumstanes, the embedded complex web of the moods of the people we are around. Politics and empathy reign as main currency as soon as money is enough. It’s funny a week ago I was arrogantly talking about how I had no problrems, since the money ones left. That was at Prospect Park in Brooklyn, where people sleep beyond fences with restoration signs marked past them. Funny that the best stories are the most descriptive yet ambigious, while I tan as the only one without sunglasses on some duel birthday. Everyone was dropping like flies the moment I showed up, each member present to keep up appearances and then retreating back into conversation of the convenience of the ride home As if a bunch of loser’s identified heavily with the Kanye lyric about being lucky ‘I even showed up’. While I’m here blending in while failing cosmically. Seeing the world through gender, blah blah blah…. a bunch of tools without a toolshed, but a quick tongue to some derivation of the latest cyber headline or relatively viral post. I would throw up but I haven’t drinken enough. I would start a fight but I flew over the handlebars of my bike yesterday. I was hands free down hill and didn’t see a series of bumps, and as I went over them I saw my fall coming, so I lept up above and away and in front of the bike in order to fall like a ballerina. Gracefull and the best case scenario against nature. Some people helped me up, a black man and he was worried, his girlfriend most mortified when I popped up with a jump wait just got kicked out because of the ‘sound of my typing’ being distracting. You can’t do anything here, a bunch of retarded virgo’s that struggle tooth and nail for a good time. ‘Kill yourself’ is my main response, or the bells of leaving back to Cali crescendo on this spot, much louder than the church bell that I keep meaning to record goes by hourly. Funny you never hear it at night yet here it is. Jonwayne the rapper’s first album, all instrumental weirdness in a grid have now been cued. I am finally alone. And I can enjoy this aloneness with some beer I bought or the government did, it doesn’t make much of a difference. The social programs out while the dollar lasts are laughable. Where the most educated women in Brooklyn believe in the saftey of their tap water. It’s a snapshot that’s not pictureeque. It’s talking shit with transcendence. ‘Everyone’ was always a blanket statement, get with this, understand fully the boundaries of language before you change it. When you don’t you sound like a tool, or a fool in an over priced education that swept you further from truths. yes truths and truth and a half while world’s goons run amuk half wit’s carrying ace’s in stacks. Yeah I know that and I know and stopped letting the truth get me down, it’s funny having to fight your way for some productivity now, god damn use to love women and fight for them in every right, until I lived with three of them now I’m on a different light. Women are just as retarded as the men they should replace, while youth the most targeted use case. Funny they don’t make raps like they used to, cause FBI funded trap, and we all laughed with bitches all the way mobbing to deals to 808s. Kayne called it with 808s and heartbreaks, 10 years later 808s run the game. Slap a hal wit on a mic that’s 5 foot 6, food stamps at stake they’ll squeel 8 bars of gold real. Catch some charm to throw in a choir, this career’s better than coding school if your love of machine’s in the gutter. How do you love your mother cause you’re replacing her. There’s plenty of people thinking of music in a grid, a bpm, a tempo, as an art. Artist’s saying critics saying YES this is the BPM for this specific vibe, this specific emotion, this specific cheese.
|| 1 billion people are listening to electronic music and we don’t care ||
who cares what you write when you aren’t a writer… right? that means I can write as I please, without insert insult here and I don’t even want to convert anyone into the Gospel at this point… I just want to write. Write out whatever is bugging me, and the bugs have taken over. Yesterday I walked in the room holding a tea bag and was told I need to be exorcised there’s a demon in me. Undergoing a verbose exorcism the laughs left my body and I ended up in a dark closet laughing until the demons left.
But it looks like the demons left me and took the bitches, through medical ailments, headlines, and over simplified world views.
Helen’s been a bitch for 4 days now and it’s been a point of contention because she doesn’t admit she’s been real rude to me. I’m off of all of it because I’d rather spend the last hurrah of my twenties not with a group of grandma would bes. But that’s just me being mean, if you kick me out of the room for the distracting loud sound of ‘typing’, I’ll thorougly enjoy leaving and typing shade to well shaded bitches in thick shades.
Look at me
what’s a better time
than to be spending with myself,
my own tunes which I don’t know know where or what that’ll sound like
and flannery O’ Connor…
suck my dick you fascist pigs for not letting me scream for being too loud too smelly to get anything done //for not permitting me to make music on this 12 inch sub you all know more than me from reading about it and yearn for it yet when it’s in your home you want only a fraction of it what it takes to be great it takes getting loud for too long it takes smelling bad for too long so suck my dick you never knew it suck my dick suck my dick suck my dick to my own music that’s me on a bad day and not even my ego at that point if a bad day was a good run so suck my dick you ignorant low IQ feed-slave-nonindependent thinking piece of shit I’ve gotten more though out of the register at a golf course I used to work on.
|| when the world’s broken in your microcosm, lay cement. ||
|| when the world’s broken in your microcosm lay cement ||
|| oh dumb bitches oh dumb bitches where do you lie when you can’t tell you’re even lying q