Er...

This blog is weird. I can wirte whatever I like and you will never know who the fuck I am. Am I a man or a woman? Am I from Manchester or Wisconsin? Am I crazy? Is crazy thinking about murdering sleeping lovers in the night. Is crazy setting an alarm in the middle of the night to watch said sleeping lover sleep and murmur total incomprehensible rubbish (the woods, the woods... are in... the fridge etc.) to me as I try valiantly to fucking sleep? Is that sort of thing normal? Debatable. Does Obama ever think like this? I mean, does he ever think about teahcing her for keeping him up with her incessant snoring by making his kids watch while he tortures her to her surprised enjoyment? I bet he does. I bet he thought about fucking Sarah Palin in the end too, even if not initially. It's amazing the concept of control, I'm not sure peoples impulses exist at all these days, I mean, what if I started doing whatever the fuck I wanted to, I'd probably end up in jail although, interestingly, I am a loyal, law abiding member of society? I mean, that would mean that rapists etc. must think about way more fucked up shit than they actually carry out, what if rape to them is diet something else? What if they fantasized about normal things but they always found themselves balls deep in a struggling stranger in an alleyway as a result? That would be way fucked. I'd hate to be raped you know. I reckon that's even more scarring than I don't know killing someone, which, I've got to admit, is something I'm almost a bit pissed off that I'm not ever going to experience that feeling... (it kinda ended a bit suddenly here but with loads of blank space till the sign off)

Anyway, forget it

Eric's Trip

I can't see anything at all
All I see is me
That's clear enough, that's what's important
To see me

My eyes can focus, my brain is talking
It looks pretty good to me
My head's on straight, my girlfriend's beautiful
It looks pretty good to me

Sometimes I speak
Tonight there's nothing to say
Sometimes we freak
And laugh all day

Hold these pages up to the light
See the jackknife inside of the dream
A railroad runs through the record stores at night
Coming in for the deep freeze

Mary: a simple word, are you there in the cold country?
Your eyes so full, your head so tight
Can't you hear me?
Remember our talk
That day on the phone
I said I was the door, and you were the station
With shattered glass, and miles between us
We still flew away in the conversation

My cup is full, and I feel okay
The world is dull, but not today

She thinks she's a goddess
She says she talks to the spirits
I wonder if she can talk to herself?
If she can bear to hear it?

This is Eric's trip
We've all come to watch him slip
He's slipping all the way to Texas
Can you dig it?

(Eric says "The sky is blue...")
I see with a glass eye
The pavement view
A shadow forming, across fields rushing
Through me to you

We tear down our the world, and put up four walls
I breathe in the myth
I'm over the city, fucking the future
I'm high and inside your kiss

We can't see clear
But what we see is alright
We make up what we can't hear
Then we sing all night

Shattered pages and shattered lights
See the jackknife; see the dream
There's something moving over there, to the right
Like nothing I've ever seen

Read Between The Lies

"The art of reading between the lines is as old as manipulated information." Henry James

i.e. analysing any conversation that means nothing, but wanting it to mean something.

It's like subconscious tourettes, except that it is actively encouraged by anyone else with breasts.

It's fucking retarded and it's ruining my life.

Reverse Psychology

As a kid, if ever I complained of whatever attention seeking ailment I was then having, be it a sore eye (remember those?), a pain in my leg etcetra, he would always recommend that I 'think about the other eye' or wherever my body was supposedly crippling me. And (generally) it worked.

I haven't thought about that piece of advice until just now (Mon, Apr 13, 2009 1:35:56 AM), but if I had've applied that to many faculties of my life in the intervening years I think maybe my life might be (a bit) better.

Fucking Weezer

'Sometimes when I'm drunk it feels like I'm getting jerked off by a monster'
Rob Hate 2009

Beans Means Beans

You know usually when you go for breakfast hungover and all you're really looking forward to is the beans but usually they're cold and touching the egg (beans should NEVER touch eggs for the yolk WILL invade the beans sauce)? Well yesterday my 'chef' obviously knew of my 'beans predicament' and decided to heat them up in the kettle, hence the dangling bits of skin hanging from my mouth today. But it was worth it

Still Born

Burning Witch hate you and so do I