So we're cuddled up at her place under a wolf blanket in the dark

Drunken Meat Fist said:
on that couch that was the shit in the late nineties, big soft and rolls around the corner like an L with footpedals and cupholders and neckthrows and you plop like whatever's been done starts fresh this night. You can't hate a van. There was tinted lamplight and incense and candles flickin the eye like little diamonds to the pissoir and under cabinets and cat was somewhere once and my feet in someones slippers arm around post-coit undifferentiation closed eyes and purrs and leftover synapse twitches, ...and the tv screen on pause with an infinitude of everything and nothing at the whim of a finger or smileglance, and her computer limped up on a stand by my ear, dormant, ...wtf-in me, leave be. She's longways on the lap legs seatbelt, toes painted purple, one little white lightning bolt zigging across the right ringtoe only, the little piggy that wanted none, right? So that's a nice picture, some morning birds, rain on the roof tapping the tin, the smell of effortless effort, relaxed everything, the foundation sighs turning over, faded tv semilight having went to sleep, ....warmth on warmth .....mmmm. .....she says under the mummy bag, what are you thinking about? ...Truth? ...

mmhmm

I was thinking how nice this is, how I could be here forever, you warm and right here, the cranberry candles, the paisley curtains, the little touches, the cute little bookshelf over there with your books..., we're quiet for awhile, let it be, let it be...nodding away ....indiscriminate time passes, a week, six minutes, what are you thinking about now? ....

...Now? I'm thinking about this is still nice, and what more is there, why be greedy. I could've died before you let me dream of it, ... you don't analyze your purring, self-consciousness is the death of art. She actually said is that what you're thinking? What? I don't know what I was thinking, I was non-thinking, the pc glow. What were you thinking of me. ok ...I was thinking for a moment I was genuinely happy, I wanted and need nothing and was at peace, my loved ones in their struggles knew me and what organs worked in that weren't defiled, they could have included the big malformed heart, the Grecian liver, the eardrums are shit. the old women will swarm me in hell and awl them out like Custer so I'll hear better in the afterlife. So, ... I thought, so many deaths, so much dying around me, and no one giving a shit about a funeral, for the sake of loved ones the preference to be ashed and thrown in a ditch. I don't like that. Beliefs are one thing, courtesy is another. Fuck the costs. It's nice for your likely and unlikelies to cross paths, maybe the random symmetry isn't so random and new and old connections can be electrified, started, kick started, rekindled or just a look - a myriad of color on a life.

So, ...I was thinking, what would I like played at mine, I have some but no one knows. ...and then I thought, I know there's only a shit rendition of Shane McGowen singing Dirty Old Town from the Henry Rollins show, that I watched live and waite for and recorded on vhs. And then I thought....there's no way...
they have that interpretation in closed caption.

Click to expand...


Please tell me what you're on. I must know.
 
What is going on, i am so confused right now.
 
Natesblackshirt said:
Ronda Rousey didn’t shit post like this. If you were actually a fan you’d know she was a great mod with tons of insight into Pokemon, like the FrankieNYC of Pokemon forum mods.
Click to expand...
She was GOAT playstation even named a button after her R3
 
Drunken Meat Fist said:
on that couch that was the shit in the late nineties, big soft and rolls around the corner like an L with footpedals and cupholders and neckthrows and you plop like whatever's been done starts fresh this night. You can't hate a van. There was tinted lamplight and incense and candles flickin the eye like little diamonds to the pissoir and under cabinets and cat was somewhere once and my feet in someones slippers arm around post-coit undifferentiation closed eyes and purrs and leftover synapse twitches, ...and the tv screen on pause with an infinitude of everything and nothing at the whim of a finger or smileglance, and her computer limped up on a stand by my ear, dormant, ...wtf-in me, leave be. She's longways on the lap legs seatbelt, toes painted purple, one little white lightning bolt zigging across the right ringtoe only, the little piggy that wanted none, right? So that's a nice picture, some morning birds, rain on the roof tapping the tin, the smell of effortless effort, relaxed everything, the foundation sighs turning over, faded tv semilight having went to sleep, ....warmth on warmth .....mmmm. .....she says under the mummy bag, what are you thinking about? ...Truth? ...

mmhmm

I was thinking how nice this is, how I could be here forever, you warm and right here, the cranberry candles, the paisley curtains, the little touches, the cute little bookshelf over there with your books..., we're quiet for awhile, let it be, let it be...nodding away ....indiscriminate time passes, a week, six minutes, what are you thinking about now? ....

...Now? I'm thinking about this is still nice, and what more is there, why be greedy. I could've died before you let me dream of it, ... you don't analyze your purring, self-consciousness is the death of art. She actually said is that what you're thinking? What? I don't know what I was thinking, I was non-thinking, the pc glow. What were you thinking of me. ok ...I was thinking for a moment I was genuinely happy, I wanted and need nothing and was at peace, my loved ones in their struggles knew me and what organs worked in that weren't defiled, they could have included the big malformed heart, the Grecian liver, the eardrums are shit. the old women will swarm me in hell and awl them out like Custer so I'll hear better in the afterlife. So, ... I thought, so many deaths, so much dying around me, and no one giving a shit about a funeral, for the sake of loved ones the preference to be ashed and thrown in a ditch. I don't like that. Beliefs are one thing, courtesy is another. Fuck the costs. It's nice for your likely and unlikelies to cross paths, maybe the random symmetry isn't so random and new and old connections can be electrified, started, kick started, rekindled or just a look - a myriad of color on a life.

So, ...I was thinking, what would I like played at mine, I have some but no one knows. ...and then I thought, I know there's only a shit rendition of Shane McGowen singing Dirty Old Town from the Henry Rollins show, that I watched live and waite for and recorded on vhs. And then I thought....there's no way...
they have that interpretation in closed caption.

Click to expand...


REQz.gif
 
The ostentatious one returns with no repercussions. In fact the only consequence for such self indulgence is the percussion from the self back patting.
 
There used to be a poster with a jimi hendrix avatar 12/13+ years ago here that was an artist, he went bat shit crazy off his meds for months posting random stuff.

You remind me a bit of him.

;)
 
Honey, the gods are kind, there's a closed caption. Dirty old town closed caption. We've known each other a while, not a long while, she thinks I have a good heart and an interesting mind and point of view and it was well-pre-empted on the saving of what you think is lost or missing. No cause to be lost or saved, no tragedy, no fixer-upper. As for soul mates, eyes not mouths, smiles not questions. That fine line when you really put your heart and soul into a person and they get ya, and then you put most of your heart and soul into someone and they almost get ya, and you close your eyes. One said in the same position out of the blue, "I never know what you're thinking." ... a statement that I had never considered in my life, why would you say that. Perspective. Initimacy. Maybe the nuance of the purr. There's a difference. ...Isn't what you know enough, if you have the guts and soul, the mind is a child's playground, what's to be gained by kicking around in there. My sources are evident and splattered on the sidewalks, Carl Jung is the rabbit in my head I cant catch, miles away before I sleep, with all the effort, the giant I would love to know. You don't know Nietzsche, despite what you think, and Joyce, thirty years in and you'll always be a neophyte, only because knowing and touching finally on what's being said, is a million miles away from the experience of the first revelation.
 
"There's one thing worse than something said,
the ghost that's left upon the bed."

Said the ghost "it's all for naught
You traded Time for afterthought"
 
Bruh, there are forums for aspiring writers out there. You will not bring yourself any closer to being published by posting it here, you're just making yourself look needy for attention
 
BigTruck said:
Who's RR and what happened? This dude post trash like this all the time and nothing.
Click to expand...
that dude is Jeff Sherwood....

RR got in a argument with another Mods,
got very personal,
they banned him shortly after removing him as a Mod.
 
GiSP said:
Paragraphs are your friend, ffs. Sometimes I get a kick
out of these glimpses into the Twilight Zone. But at least format your ramblings properly.

As always ...

giphy.gif
Click to expand...

In the moment, you forget it's not your pillow, shadowboxing at the toilet. Here's a few inserts so you make sense of it all in your diary log tomorrow. /// /// / // /
 
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