welllll... i like sunsets, long walks on the beach, and shooting coke into my penis. makes me feel alive, ya know!?!

i'm growing quite lazy. but i feel like you ought to get to know me better before you use your mouth on me. it would make me feel better. i've been on pins and needles as of late. surely you can understand. i mean, the other day, i went to blow a line, and all i had was a mirror, and i hate using mirrors, for obvious reasons, but i went ahead and used it anyway.

so i came up, bill still in my nose, and there he was. grinning like a fiend, fucking staring up and out at me. only his eyes were gone. just pink coves where they should've been. completely missing. nothing to house his soul.

he's fucking trouble.

i mean it!

real trouble.

i want you to stay away from him ya hear?!

can't seem to shake him loose though. damn this photographic memoreee 'o mine!

sooo... for the sake of familiarity, here are some of my interests and favorite activities, as dictated by a certain social networking site i plan on removing myself from in the near future:

rickenbacker basses,
decapitation,
marcy homes,
quantum physics,
100 years,
thrift shops,
the electoral college,
sweaty wet/dirty damp,
dying before i'm 35 in a blaze of glory and gunfire,
burning myself with cigarettes for drug money,
the DEA,
formula one,
life sentences,
starting and purposely losing fights,
ketamine and other tranquilizers,
string theory,
LPs,
making people feel bad,
illmatic,
japanese cell phones,
bunson burners,
atom heart mother,
krav maga,
near death experiences,
used fender jaguars,
zaireeka,
the presets,
crashing '80s proms,
knife hand chops,
babies with 90 dollar shoes,
light years,
used bookstores,
climate change,
freaking out the squares,
teenagers,
clairvoyence,
alchemy,
mercantilism,
structural collapse,
shitheads,
john bonham,
fucking hairy asian pussy,
twilight zones,
making people look dumb,
lawsuits,
destroying social constructs,
four horsemen of 2012,
killing animals to make jackets out of,
snuff films,
phone booths,
jerking off,
vandalism,
lara flynn boyle,
my fucked up ipod,
pbs and npr,
easy rider,
all dinosaurs,
hollistic medicine,
reebok pumps,
closed hi-hats,
hokusai,
geothermal energy,
contradicting myself,
lasers,
teflon,
gulf coast recovery,
interpol's new album,
missing treble knobs,
capsized ships,
guy fawkes masks,
nigerian black paper scams,
one armed push-ups,
handgun hunting,
DARPA,
real club kids,
air traffic control,
new-rave,
go-karts,
the french touch scene,
dream teams,
chucks,
magic carpets,
jade jagger,
the rapture (both the band and the reckoning)
miles davis,
reckless driving,
dj battles,
videotaping sex without prior consent/permission,
The American Century,
eradicating dirty hippies,
Ableton Live 5,
glass jaws,
embezzlement,
diamond smuggling,
party monster,
the 1968 democratic convention,
atlantis to interzone,
chord charts,
digitalism,
jackie brown,
james brown,
caravaggio's murder charge,
sarkozy,
capitol hill,
christian hosoi,
drift racing,
abbie hoffman,
alienating people,
turbo lag,
the rolling stones,
bald chicks,
photoshop,
beat poets,
zeus,
boozing,
movies featuring talking animals,
anthropomorphism in general,
somnambulatory sexploits,
boy-cut panties,
motogp,
lifetime supplies,
nanotechnology,
delta blues,
dogfighting,
birds,
falsetto,
superman,
fingerfucking,
pinky up, pinky down,
any gibson sg,
the distant, distant future,
manipulating people,
circuit bending,
vulcanology,
no-film photography,
ducatis,
synchronicity,
pitch-bending,
biocomputers,
immortality,
small press publishers,
endangered species poaching/trading,
Guns & Ammo,
pretending i can skate,
the tornados,
actual tornados,
the x-men cartoon on fox,
interesting films made by boring people,
misanthropy,
dorm rooms,
ultra-marathons,
nike montreals,
novelty car horns,
the desert,
small breasts (A-cup aficionado),
"shit jokes but not shit stories,"
pre-oil embargo automobiles,
MicroKorg,
wamp wamp,
the hidden tree of life,
apple,
moon bounce rental,
Baltimore free book thing,
bars i can't get kicked out of,
skipping work,
bashing nerds,
calling 911, just to chat,
arpeggiators and vocoders,
people who fuck prostitutes,
the truth,
keef's tolerance,
aphrodisiacs,
the past,
tiny dogs,
hazing,
spell-check,
poorly maintained machine guns,
beat repeat and eq three,
illegal prescriptions,
jack nicholson,
warrantless misogyny,
your mother,
threatening people,
inconvenient truths,
hyperviolence,
epistemology,
nanofiction,
maritime cannibalism,
existentialism,
harp arpeggios,
hatemail and death threats,
sea changes,
norfolk, virginia,
haldol,
materialism...

now fuck off. get outta here! i'll finish on my own.

the devil and paris hilton: hands down the most poignant thing you'll read about the miscarriage of justice that is the paris hilton saga.

this was the first picture of Paris i ever laid eyes on. i remember thinking, "what a piece of ass? who is this chick?" what a difference a sex tape/slew of reckless driving incidents/utterance of racial slurs/reality series/probation violation/premature release/courtroom sobbing episode makes.

i guess that head wasn't right. a little too much tooth and not enough tongue, perhaps? because fuck knows that back during the middle stages of all this, at least the judge caught a domeshot from young Ms. Hilton. or else we wouldn't be where we are today.

but, as i'm sure you've heard, our lengthy national nightmare has seen its temporary resolution. and already, the denouement is proving to be hilariously tragic. apparently, prisoner 90210 (you like that don't you motherfucker? of course i stole it!) is not eating or sleeping. she's also been doing a lot of praying apparently.

hunger strike? daily prayers to Mecca? such a beacon. such a ray of light that lass is. a display of determination and self-discipline not seen since Martin Luther King penned his Letters From Inside a Birmingham Jail.

or maybe it's just a healthy serving of simultaneous withdrawal, with a heavy helping of desperation gravy, ladled on nice and thick. did you ever think of that? yeah, that's it. withdrawal. she's freaking out man! jonesing! chronic withdrawal symptoms, on account of the plethora of drugs Ms. Hilton is clearly addicted to. dope sickness is no laughing matter people! though according to Reuters, her shrink has been giving her "psychoactive drugs." you call them psychoactive, i call them Naltrexone and Antabuse.

every step of this seems to have been a slap in the face to the "ordinary American majority."

"'Mom, Mom. It's not right,' she wailed as she was led out of the courtroom. Her mother, Kathy Hilton, also sobbed."

what the fuck? it's amazing how distraught she and her mother have been (mother sobbing; daughter is allegedly on suicide watch; what the fuck?), given the fact that millions of mothers have seen and will see their sons and daughters dragged off in cuffs and jumpers knowing that they won't see them ever again, much less in three weeks.

it doesn't anger as much as it saddens. but along with this being a manifestation of the importance class plays in our judicial system, this is an embodiment of the American Individualist ethos. surely not exhibited solely by the hyperwealthy.

fuck walking a mile in your shoes! i wouldn't be caught dead in that Payless trash!

yet it goes without saying that the "pull yourself up by your bootstraps," "i got mine, you get yours" state of mind has done more harm than good, and quite frankly, is outmoded. has been for generations. with diminshing exception, empathy has all but vanished from the American sociopolitical landscape. and we're seeing that in, among other cases, Paris's bitchass reaction to a class-blind, functioning justice system.

as far as the development, i wasn't indoors to see the Paparazzi earning their keep in front of the Hilton home the other day. but i have to wonder why formerly respectable mainstream media outlets felt that news of a spoiled slut socialite being rightfully remanded to the L.A. County Sheriff's custody was on par with say, 9/11 or the Invasion of Iraq or the VT shootings. or for that matter, the Battle of Los Angeles 15 years before. interrupting my stories for this shit? oh fuck naw.

have we fucking gone mad! someone certainly has.

before entry, paris said that she was going to "serve her time the right way" and serve as an "example to young people out there." good talk Paris. because if anyone's going to serve as an example around here, it's going to be you. teach these girls how to go out there and be somebody. or do somebody. a lot of somebodies. rich somebodies.

an example.

that worked out. surely money alone didn't lead to this delusion, though it most certainly helped. no. the prime suspect in this murder mystery is you. and me. and those we know and love. and those we don't. keep paying attention, keep giving yourself to this, and this is what's going to happen.

i can't really say that i'm glad she's back in jail. not because i sympathize, but because "back in jail" should not even have been a topic of discussion here.

in a state where the "3 Strikes" mandate is constantly fucking up the lives of (Brown and Black) people throughout California, crowding its jails and straining its budget, and given LAPD's repugnant, yet rightfully earned, reputation, you'd think this would be the last thing the judicial system there would allow for.

our need to feed on this foolishness begs a question. one of cultural norms. one that many of us won't be alive to see the answer to.

considering that half a century ago, Elvis gyrating his hips was regarded as obscene by the troublesome and damning American concensus, and given the no holds barred media clime of "today," (i.e. "One Night In Paris" being Ms. Hilton's "big break") where are we headed next?

in the next 50 to 100 years, given that planet Earth isn't more like planet Mercury, how drastically will we, and our sensibilities, (d)evolve culturally? anything goes, maybe? a full hour of "Monkeys Fucking Kids with a Wide-Angle Lens" anchoring NBC's highly prized "Must See TV" Thursday night lineup?

regardless of what "tomorrow" brings, i guess the most comforting message for both Paris and a sickly American mass would be that Hope Springs Eternal. we're gonna get through this babydoll. just gotta know we can.

i guess i'll hold that message dear to my heart should i ever be sentenced, YHWH forbid. maybe i'll pull a Wayans Brothers and hire some Hollywood makeup artist to transform me into a white broad. that seems to be my best hope for this situation, eh? wish me luck.