It's a good thing no one can read this.

I found a compositition book from G-d knows when holding writings about the differences between Americans and Vietnamese people (but mostly the similarites), why I like my paternal grandmother, a story about Monkey Juice from a witch doctor featuring my middle school friend Genrty Hale, and typos, typos, typos.
I wrote a biography that has the teacher's handiwork marked all over it in brown ink.
[Pre-first: My teacher was Ms. Hanks. I had a friend named Jonathan and other friends but I don't remember their names.] That statement was completely stricken out by Ms. Hunt, my Third and Fourth grade teacher (I know, she was a lucky sonufagun).

Now it is my daily journal with childish red marks that look like words on the cover.

Dec 16 2008
Saw Shalini at the mall.
Didn't talk, but I diverted (thought I did) attention towards my Brookstone application. Du-ooy.
[an hour later]
Now I'm doing the flying Dutchman routine. Walking here and there (in some cases INTO here and there) just to bump into Shal the Balla' again (noone calls here that...I hope noone calls her that). She ducked in a GAP, but I...hesitanted. And went on about my application errand thinking: A} it (the application) was more important (it was why I was there) B} Women spend a longer time shopping in a GAP then I do doing ANYTHING.
Great. I've now lost my mind in public. I wish I had a camera. Or a gun. Or a camera-gun for some real shopping.

In other news: Elder Scrolls 3: Morrowind on XBOX has frieghten me from being abscond into inifinity. I won't play it until I'm sure I'll fall asleep while playing the thing.

80+hours of gameplay can and has fucking killed humans.

Dream I had:
Married to a 100, 000 .lbs woman who is valued at $100,000 (or so the newspaper headliner says). Her name is Pearl.
Her Momma is 40-mid 50 looking but could be older: Mona.
In the dream Walter Blackman, we took journal making class together and is responsible for me finding reasons to outburst with "RANDY MOSS" or "LIBBIN-LIVI' A LIE, LIBBIN-LIVIN' DE LIE, TIMMAY", is my twisted friend who helps me move into my new apartment with the missus. He plays vidja games (looked like GI JOE on NES) while(?) watching porn, my porn (I'm not so sure about that last part. It could easliy be the wedding night video).
Pearl's got a younger sister. I got a case of the "don't know"s on her name (THAT'S WHAT I SAID IN THE DREAM. DON'T JUDGE).

This is a new post. You may now dance the Dance of Rebirth!

I working on a story right now.
If it will be a ALLWORDS novel/la, a comicbook mini or a small-time video complete with bad acting and jerky hand-held moments that were not supposed to be there but if brought the audience "into the moment" I'll say, "yeah...I meant that!", no one can say right now.

Especially not me.
Look at me; you think I plan anything?
I'm a methhead chasing ambulances to hospitals.
I wouldn't know what to do if I...got hold of a hypodermic needle. So to speak.

It's a D&D inspired dialouge fest. Hopefull if I get my players talking about enough stuff maybe they'll happen on something you'll like.

I really just want to start an idea and finish with a product, as a tell my child therapist Dr. Needle. At least I think her name is Doctor Needle.
Some last names should make you exempt from being a doctor.
Payne.
Hertz.
I heard from Mr. Rod, my 9th grade Physics teacher, that some girl had a dad whose a dentist named "Dr. Slaughter"


Irony really makes life worth living.

I should also get out that I want to work on a book that follows the day of a grown-kid visiting his highschool 3 years later. K-K-K-K-KRAY-ZINESS! (note to self: next time use C's, less racist that way towards myself)

"Autobiographical", you say? What, what? (there goes the [Talking like I'm british tag] AGAIN)
Difinitely autobiographical, with similar people (with changed names..sometimes), an odd main character, a compositing of 2 or 3 different people into one to save time (and energy) and all done an 3 hour period from 12:10pm to 3:17pm.
EASY.
EASY. EASY.
HAAARD.
EASY!

(note to self: call your old theater teacher Mr. G. It's the least you can do)


Oh, and I'm reading Transmetropolitan. It's a RapeFest...but in a good way. Scratch that shit, it makes me want to go outside and punch authority figures. FUCKING AWESOME is the name I have for this series now. Why isn't this posted on telephone poles in major metropolitan cities?

Edit:
http://paprpapr.blogspot.com/
Bud Ries has a magazine/blog. This little improv demon was sooo nice to me in my early high school years. I repay the favor by posting his blog on my blog that no one is watching. YOU'RE WELCOME. BUD!

Double Edit:
Vice Presidents? I don't give a shi-ooooh it's a la-daay! 20 months of being Gov. of Alaska, you say? FORMER MISS WASILLA, YOU SAY?! Well, sign me uh-oh that's right I'm voting for the historic moment in race relations for the United States rather than pleasuring myself to hot pics of the VP when she was "Sarah Barracada" on her high school basketball team.

Hawt Pix of Sarah Palin ballin'.

Biden? I'm sure there were more intellectual choices but this is a political choice so it sucks.
It'll probably help him get elected. It sucks.
It'll give him that "tough America" edge. Shit sux.
Okay, now I'm being a bastard.