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[20 Oct 2007|03:08am] |
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mood |
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 drunk |
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music |
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clover.... over and over... |
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bah, i'm so lazy at writing nowadays, i wonder if my skills are all atrophied and shriveled. probably need a shot in the arm, if not the brain.
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[16 May 2007|01:10am] |
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mood |
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 a.c. tortured. |
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music |
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money, money, money... nigga want hunnids hunnids, hunnids.. |
] |
these just a couple hypotheticals taken from "Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs" (written by Chuck Klosterman). check 'em out... and send me some responses, as i'm interested in hearing your take on them. 1. Suppose you have won a prize. The prize has two options, and you can choose either (but not both). The first option is a year in Europe with a monthly stipend of $2000. The second option is ten minutes on the moon.
Which option do you select?
2. Lets say a fully grown, totally healthy Clydesdale horse has his hooves shackled to the ground while his head is held in place with thick rope. He is conscious and standing upright, but completely immobile. And let's say that - for some reason -- every political prisoner on earth (according to Amnesty International) will be released from captivity if can kick this horse to death in less than twenty minutes. You are allowed to wear steel-toed boots and spiked soccer cleats.
Would you attempt to do this?
3. Let's say you were given two options: You can either (a) have sex with the world's most attractive person, but you can tell no one and no one will ever know, or (b) you can talk through life with that person hand-in-hand, creating the illusion to everyone alive that this individual is your lover-- even though you will never so much as kiss.
Which would you pick?
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| headlines. |
[08 May 2007|10:16am] |
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mood |
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 accomplished |
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music |
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this guy named girl talk going apeshit in my headphones. |
] |
i'm all paid up for summer classes, which officially makes me a part time student (as opposed to a slacker doing a half-assed one-shot deal).
I'm gonna start training to box with a buddy of mine from NY.... i should be throwing them thangs withfury and precision come end of the summer.
my wiki-wiki scratch-ability is improving with some trial and errors. krs-one and nas never knew what hit 'em. classes for that starts sometime this week as well.
my bills are paid up. sweetness.
my room is clean for the first time in an eon.
all is well.
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[30 Apr 2007|11:00am] |
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mood |
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 satisfied |
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music |
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no sex.... |
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"cornbread, ain't nothin' wrong with that"
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[28 Apr 2007|10:05am] |
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mood |
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 pis'd |
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a hard day at the grind, followed by a hard night at the laundry bar with the homies (drummin base), only to come to the parking lot to a stolen fuckin' bike. i swear to fucking high hell, if i catch that bike rolling past me on the street, im gonna strong-arm the fucker riding it, then kick some open welts into him, and then kick some dirt into those welts. goddamn crackheads....
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[25 Apr 2007|10:57pm] |
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mood |
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 lonesome |
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music |
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smoke and mirrors.... |
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old bluegrass music tends to give me a heavy buzz of nonexistent nostalgia. i mean, i used to hear the stuff in its diluted, manufactured form (also known as modern day country) as a kid, usually alongside long bouts of one o'five nine classic rock chunks (usually set aside when riding shotgun with my uncle on those long penniless summer days).... but the pure uncut version of midwestern-grown music usually puts me in that state.... like i belong somewhere along the side of a semi-major route (like 66, maybe) selling gas and local trinkets while listening to a stone cold metal radio with two huge knobs. maybe have a wife of fading yet well-aged beauty and 30 years or so of loyalty tending to the stocking up the ice box with domestic swill... yeah, right.
what a weird feeling it is to get the imagery so keenly painted inside your memory after hearing similar themes in your chilhood days... like all that country listening has predisposed me to a lifetime of chasing away the city slicker routine.... and maybe in a way, it's influenced my walk and talk (i tend to use some slang words such as "y'all", and have been told i talk like a guy from missouri). maybe i do need to get away, the stagnant city air of miami can't be doing me any good. the only thing i would miss is the blatant and pervasive obsessions with appearance and sexuality.... particularly of the female hispanic bracket. all that eye candy has left cavities like empty eye sockets.... i'll surely miss that.
and maybe i belong out there, in the sticks, living a shitkicker life with nothing promised for tomorrow. like a dead ragged tumbleweed taking no root and expecting no shelter.... just another penny in the mall fountain... growing green with mildew and oxide. life sure isn't that gravy now... only the obligation of acting as a family anchor and my tenuous grasp on education keep me locked in. but my psychic anchors are already lifted, and my mind is in that rotten state of departure....
whatever... i guess i'll have to make do listening to alison krauss and the o' brother, where art thou soundtrack for now... till then...
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[23 Apr 2007|12:31am] |
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mood |
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 amused |
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music |
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just shake that azzzzzzzzz, bitch and let me see what chu got...! |
] |
it's official, im definitely gonna go hang gliding. somehow, the thrill of propelling my body a couple thousand feet into the air strapped to a giant metal bat exoskeleton enthralls me. they say that the ride lasts about an hour at that altitude, and its only for the looooooow low of 95 a flight. they open up shop next month, and im gonna be first (or second) in line. then, maybe i can graduate to jumping headlong out of a plane.
i think im falling out of love with that talking fast food meal that graces my telly screen every midnight. the movie sucked and blowed all at once. i walked out and angrily demanded a refund like an old man returning cold soup at a deli.
hmm... my writing used to be more lush and descriptive, and now it's degenerated into panached headlines.... like for the village voice or something. and i have english class this summer.... might be a head-fuck to get thru.... thats all, folks.
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[20 Apr 2007|02:44am] |
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mood |
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 cranky |
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music |
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the presets.... |
] |
why do i need ID to get ID? if i had ID, i wouldn't need ID.
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[17 Apr 2007|10:36am] |
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mood |
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 right |
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music |
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what else? |
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"freebird" by lynyrd skynyrd is far and beyond, the quintessential song for lovemaking. particularly when you "stall" your car in the deep midst of lion country safari. if one can't make the trip or put forth the funds to make the trip, some beaten path off of u.s. 41'll do. try it one day and see, i think you'll be be quite satisfied.... unless you absolutely despise good ol' boy southern rock. thank me with a polite e-mail (or a crisp hundred-dollar bill to my doorstep) later.
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[11 Apr 2007|03:19pm] |
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mood |
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 hungry |
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music |
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mariachi hip hop beats. |
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i'm a bored ass mofo... with some studying to do before the big test comes along
last night.... darts, at the abbey, soundtracked to ACDC/Garden State Soundtrack/Jackson 5/Notorious BIG.... i've discovered my second home. now if i can only find some way to accomodate a pillow and cot, maybe work out some sort of pseudo-security deal with the bartenders.... i'd be home free.
this place is home of some of the absolute best beers this side of the swamp. bar none. imperial dead guy stout is a must.... it'll take you back to the days when one actually ate fruitcake (only once a year), a true full-blooded nostalgia trip. strawbery beer is also in the upper echelon of sick beers i've ever encounter'd.
watching grindhouse is another contemporary must.... a flat out three hour homage to camp and exploitation movies like they were some sort of demi-gods. friggin' brilliant... (the interlude pseudo-movie-previews (such as "thanksgiving".... or the amazing "el machete") definitely squared up the whole experience and upgraded it to fuckin' awesome).
i'm working on producing full sentences... you'll be seeing me make more attempts in the coming days.
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| oh lawd. |
[10 Apr 2007|11:14am] |
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mood |
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refreshed |
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music |
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funk and drums courtesy of Breakestra |
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hey, i'm still alive, and i think my writing musicle has atrophied to near-paraplegic status, so i guess i'm gonna start posting up shit here from time to time to keep my head nimble.
yeah.... now to find something worth writing about.
r.
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[01 Apr 2006|01:18pm] |
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music |
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Crime Mob - Knuck If You Buck (remixed) |
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i've never been good at making relationships blossom, let alone juggle the intricacies that entail from trying to make them work. but lately i've been trying to jump-start one up with someone i'm genuinely interested in (which is a tragic rarity in my strange life), and at times it feels like im drawing blanks, or clutching at straws, with what i say and do, resulting in moderately awkward pauses. is this normal for some, or is this just some weird social deficiency bestowed on me?
on another note... i experienced what i believe was an ego death... at work. one minute im just happy and productive, cranking out pizzas with ruthless friendly effiency... the next minute i'm completely blank and on some sort of zombie-autopilot. i feel the vibes and tendrils of communication extended to me, and i couldn't muster up anything decent to say... like my social intellect got shuffled away into some reclusive drawer in the cobwebs of my head. left me feeling extremely uncomfortable with my normally chill co-workers. probably the same problem as described above. sometimes... i feel completely different to my surroundings.
"i may have been done with the past, but the past may not be done with me"
wise words to heed when one rides the wave so fervently and wants off.
r.
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[31 Mar 2006|11:24am] |
i need to get paid.
r.
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[28 Mar 2006|10:15pm] |
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mood |
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not chipper. |
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music |
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that good shit. |
] |
i think i've found an anthem. rjd2's ghostwriter always seems to put me in that feel-good niche of a spot that makes me feel like i'm strolling through a late 50's backdrop with an scratchy ol' dusty lp record soflty playing the background. old men with long sun-darkened gaunt faces are playing dominoes in parks nearby as they recount the early depression-era days of hoover blankets and boxcar-hopping. pigeons swamp the side gutters and fly up to tin rafters with clothes lines hanging faux-persian rugs and clean britches sway slightly in the sticky philadekphia heat. street performers armed with vaudevillian accoridans and rhesus monkeys parade the streets in search of loose change and beleaguered children. big fat puerto-rican mamas of similar skin tones sweep their sidewalk slice out in front of their row house tenements. all the while im a flat broke spic with lint in my pockets and a dream in my thoughts strolling the streets witha certain vindiction, smiling at a clear blue sky that is almost as precious as it is sure to disappear in the coming years of nearby smokestack pollution. yep... that image almost flashes vivdly in behind my eyelids.
so.... "the hills have eyes" was alright, i just thought it had a rather weak ending. kind of a copout, not really resolving anything, but too subtle to ensure a sequel... which is probably moot at this point. good popcorn fodder... cheerio.
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[27 Mar 2006|04:46pm] |
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mood |
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 optimistic |
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music |
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rjd2 - ghostwriter. |
] |
so it's all about 2 live crew tonight, at studio a, a newbie in the mainland nightclub circuit, another sweat box to chalk it up to on the list. ass shaking and vokda sours and ladyfinger sized spliffs to jump start the evening, then hearing uncle luke scream at the top of his lungs "LET A NIGGA GET A TABLE DANCE!!!"
yeah.
also, anyone know a good way to get more friends on lj? it seems that most of the odd handful i've had from back in the days have stopped posting altogether.
r.
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[26 Mar 2006|11:26am] |
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mood |
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 what the fuk is chipper? |
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music |
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...its two thousand-thirty-twelve.... |
] |
hmm.... i wish my room were really a skittle-colored ball pit, with a self-cleaning purple pleather moon walk for my adjoining bathroom. drunken trips to drain the main vein would be much more interesting.
r.
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[24 Mar 2006|11:05am] |
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mood |
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hungry |
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music |
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...and the clouds are forming geometric shapes.... |
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so... I've been working 40 hour weeks throwing pizza dough high in the air, spent weeks mastering my craft of rotating and gyrating the globby stuff into a near-perfect circle. fun stuff, pretty good pay, can't complain all-together. I do want to slip back into the grimy-fingernail rut of college, working the classrooms for grades and the hallways for phone numbers in my cleanest, sharpest a-game. I'm concerned though, that it'll just become a meaningless blur of half of a day. a rock has me beat in attention span. an igneous rock, that is.
i'm still on my chevro-LEGZzzzz... bus drivers recognize me when im pulling a fast one past them involving metro-transfers. that's no good.
i quit smoking pot... for a while, but i've taken a shine to occasionally eating it. i wanna learn some nifty recipes beyond the brownie niche.
....meanwhile the jazz artists that bounce from club to club on a weekly contingency basis (though jazid may be their resting pad of sorts) making love to their instruments and fingering their strings using cunnilingual tongues in their saxes and horns while bums still push their shopping carts as if window shopping the city streets of miami making palm-frong roses and reselling them at a buck a piece i swear that is a bum-survival trick of the trade well that and stealing bikes and fixing them up to resell and mewanwhile artistic primates that make favorable pure pop-aesthetic continue decorating these streets luring acres of high powered suits and gowns that wish to change this city's original flavor into a soho knockoff.
sparks is really the best invention of alcoholic marriage of late. its remnants still swirl in my head like tea leaves in a british cup of hot water at 4 in the afternoon.
work.
r.
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| drug free... Of Montreal... veganism? |
[03 Sep 2005|10:01am] |
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mood |
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musically blissed. |
] |
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music |
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shes a Spoonful Of Sugar to me... so sweeeet.... so sweeeet. |
] |
nothing new over here. execpt... an acid trip thru the dark streets of Katrina's windy wrath... the manic days of wax-melting heat and noir from lack of power.... blowing my mind through the newfound classes and happiness settling like brittle serenity from surviving a car crash... a creative writing class that demands my thoroughly numbed brain to keep up with a slew of big words and small difficult words... sleepless nights of adjusting my bio-chemical system to a lack of pot smoke... uneventful thursday and friday and friday nights... a newfound love affair with Of Montreal, whos music has brought a tear to my eye and an uncontrollable giddy feeling... and tonight... a vegetarian smorgasbord and an array of musical influences to whet the palette... and thats whassup. later.
r.
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[20 Aug 2005|09:05pm] |
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mood |
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cold |
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music |
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bjork - all is full of love |
] |
i finally got a computer, placing me possibly a handful of steps closer to the technological sprawl that this society subtly demands of us. i've been on it for a greater part of the day, pipelining music from a myriad of mp3 cds and store bought ones, i have the inborn feeling that, alongside with my recently purchased 8th of the good smoke alongside, i may become a stoner recluse yet again... my mind feels awfully tragic, like the accidental death of some bastardized inner child, screaming for air but smothered in fleeting responsibility. school is creep'd around the corner, time is hunched over menacingly glaring at me, eyeing my decrepit finanical abyss i call a bank account.
life lately has been feeling like a surreal dream, somewhat surprising me at every wicked turn, but my semi-hazed mind barely scraping together its wits to deal with all new problems that come to light recently. now i stare my way through the scenes and days with a half-amused grin on my troubled face. people seem to have become an nervous blur, a scattered swarm of monotony and anonymity, like half-bright locusts in locust-wheatfield heaven...
i'm still alone. in some quiet limbo of social detachment, a mountain of fear heaped before like some grotesquely fat man sleeping in front of a door to wonderland. my dreams usually include me drifting at see with clinging to driftwood, nothing but sun and surf for miles around.
ah, this song... can easily send me into a quiet euphoria, better than highs or lows.
r.
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army_of_plastic's journal
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