The Stoner Chronicles

August 26, 2002

back to school
back to school
that kid dennis
isn't very cool

back to school
yes....i'm back to school
joe and his tuition bill
are jumping in a pool...

the visuals would be much more interesting...if y'all knew me better...

more on catostrophic verse later....

August 13, 2002

I wish i had a pet kangaroo, so i could teach it to beat the shit out of people that say no to me...we would go all over the place...the KFC on Elmwood (across from Ambrosia), the DMV, City Hall, and then i'd build a time capsule, fly back to the fifth grade with my new kangaroo, and kick the living fuck out of that little prick that stole my musical pencil box...

i would say i'd teach it how to operate a weapon, but with feet like that...really, who needs a fine calibur rifle, or a chainsaw even...shit, if i was a kangaroo, i'd kidnap that bitch john fugelsang, hog tie his ass, steal a bravada from an asshole (because...only assholes drive bravada's, so i wouldn't feel all that bad), stuff him in my pouch, and take off for vegas....

then i'd buy three prostititues, make them reinact the assasination of john lennon, i'd rob a bank, buy a jet plane, and fly it to tokyo, where people would fucking appreciate me, and john fugelsang, and my three loose pussied whores, that i'd train to become an elite world hunger fighting team...

that's what i would do...if i was a kangaroo...

Things in my life that sound like STD's:

....


i'm a lucky bitch...perhaps some of you will have better fortune with such a list...

Chat rooms are bad...and so are STD's...be careful of those...hewlett packards...

I'll be registered for classes tomorrow, i'll have a license by october, and a job next week...maybe what's his name will call, and we can rent some fucking ponies...have a party...who's in?

I've been up all night, as I have fallen into the sort of depression that people stop feeding their cats and plants and televisions for...the kind of unfunny business that has landed me in the position to stay awake wondering if a cocktail of nasal decongestant and valium will be enough to put me out of this world, these two crappy ears placed so symmetrically on my body can't hear my own cry for help...the kind of unhappiness where rufus wainwright and steven wright start to make too much sense for one person to take...i am tapdancing towards mediocrity, and no one is awake to help me...

not even myself...

There's too much pressure to couple up. I have tried to light myself on fire several times this year, with no luck...

No one wants to touch the pretty colors anymore, they only want to see them through pixels and postures that are unreachable by gluttony and inconsistency, the color of money and the flavor of sweat, leaking from one bleeding hand that is too wounded to be bandaged...

What happened to my childhood...the precious floorboards of my old porch, the black hole where no lonesome barbie doll shoe was safe...why do i remember them coming to take it down, and why couldn't i have a piece to put in the time capsule drawer that we never had time to bury?

We're rushing towards nothing...and i'm getting motion sickness from the thought of all this careless, religious, archaic bullshit...

Stop washing the dishes, and stop spreading your god damn fake butter over your fucking english muffins...wake up and smell your own shit for once...

I must be the only person in the world that takes enough depressant drugs to keep herself awake worrying that, I might do all that i've wanted to do, these last three months...

i'm not going to spellcheck this...so prepare the raw meat...and don't forget not to cook it...