seriously, what the hell is going on?

weird things as normal things continue to happen in my car.

also, trying to log into blogger has also almost caused my friggin' brain to turn into something that isn't a brain therefore no longer operating as a brain which is the dumbest thing in the world because who the frigg needs a brain if it's not a brain.

i'm currently taking a neuropsychology class and the doctor who instructs it would be disappointed knowing not so much that i don't have a brain but that i don't know what's going on in it so please don't tell him thank you.

maybe i'll pass my midterm if i'm all like...

'hey, what brain?'

(click that)
(seriously)
(wait. you don't have to)

pump a dump

it turns out, when you're trying to be a science-ish in college, it's not the same as being creative writing/english-ish,

one professor has told me that i have to be objective.

'i am objective.'

the same professor told me that i can not involve personal politics when i'm referring to peer reviewed journals.

'but they're my opinions that i'm using to prove with science.'

professor hands back most recent 'research' paper.

the first sentence:

'due to the fact that republicans hate poor people...'

'oh. i guess you're right.'

professor states that i should start a blog.

'but i'm still kind of right, right? like, fight the power? right?'

science is hard when you're anti-establishment.

and punk as fuck,

 

dumpster pony

so this is it again i guess.

i am stuck in traffic every tuesday and thursday morning on my way to class.

i decided to start video taping what that's like for me.

and now.

for you.

seventwentyamforever
(click at your own risk)
(RISK OF HAVING A GREAT TIME)

friggin'.

lol tragic.

let me get a friggin' good look at ya

dead before we began

keep on friggin' in the friggin' world.

thursday december 19th

'wait...what?' presents: 69...ALL THE TIME.

WE'RE GOING TO THE FANCY STRIPPER STORE!

dust off your weird 'eyes wide shut' shit and spit shine your electra complex.  come out to 
le rouge (3405 n i35) at 8:30 for our last austin based reading before my descension into darkness.

this month i asked our 18 AND UP horny co-eds to incorporate a piece involving 'something sex' into their reading time. i made everyone feel pretty awkward about it. abou tit:

-michael davidson

-joseph green

-lauren klotzman

-no glykon

-cheryl couture

-andrew hilbert

-justin davidson

-spencer garland

-ivan brave

-angel trevino

-me

i was going to write what it would be like to fuck henry rollins. 

i thought about our foreplay; talking shit about greg ginn and me pretending i knew what politics are. i decided against it. 

even writing about fucking henry rollins was boring.  

i'm also currently working on something for a friend's...skateboarding...magazine...

FRIGIGN' KICK FLIP TO GODDAMN SPACE IF I WANT TO.

friggin' from now on.

see gull

he climbed up a fire escape.

she followed him up the fire escape.

she imagines herself climbing up this fire escape, for an infinite amount of time. she’s ready to start her new life, climbing up a fire escape behind him.

during the rest of her life, she closed her eyes and imagined staring up at a seagull. she was alone, standing on a dock, the water was still and humming, the horizon was flat, everything seemed inactive. she could smell the static.

she reached up to the seagull and asked, ‘can you take me with you?”

the seagull told her, ‘I want to fly around the docks. I have no place to go.’

she told the seagull about her irrational fear of drowning.

the seagull told her, ‘there isn’t anywhere else to go but down.’

she felt like a champion amongst seagulls.

he stopped climbing and she stopped behind him.

he turned around.

he told her he felt like a seagull that was flying around the docks with no place to go.

she told him to keep climbing.