Brothering me

Neurotic wasted energy, gallops around me while I think of you. this is my past. this is my past.

Wasted energy isn't always bad, I mean if it's bad energy that's getting wasted then it's good. We need to burn that shit out.

I saw this guy that I knew in university. I didn't think he recognized me, I'm wearing clothes that are much more fashionable now days, I noticed he looked great, he was fashionable since I met him.

It's good to change, to start new things and forget about the past. Like lovers you abandoned that didn't abandon you, till you just thought about them and you realize that actually yes, they've let you go too.

Time is the key, the teller of it, the ticker of the truth. It's relentless and it drives us toward what we're meant for.

The faster if goes the faster we miss out on many things we thought we were going to be focused on.

My family, has changed, grown and gotten smaller. My family is really what I make of it. It's not like there is a lot of us being born.

Wasted energy is fine if we waste it on what it needs to be wasted on, cause it's all wasted anyway. and recycled, over and over again

You think that sometime in the near future it'll cycle into me...

Run me through.

the hat you wanna wear

Following your gut is one thing, being a glutton is another. My life's been so good I don't want to give anything up.

One thing I don't want to stop doing is finding ways of getting to know people.. I want to get to know as many people as possible. Like in real life, not just through social media. You have to just do it. Or you die. Most people might push you away, and that's ok but it's important to do what you want.

I want to full fill my fantasies while I'm still old enough to do it.

I've been definitely moving in the right direction, and it feels good.

The worst part about getting what you want most of the time is what happens when you don't get what you want...

Then you realize you're probably an addict and you should chill out.

the art of this is bullshit

SHooting the shit over and over again. Looking for anyway to getting out into the world and back inside my mom... strange how we see ourselves as adults, when we're not.

I've been thinking about discipline and I think that it has something to do with success. Now we're disciplined in our own way. We've all let ourselves choose our evils that keep us moving forward. Hens shooting the shit over and over again.
I've been getting everything I want out of life in the last few years, I've learned my self worth. I haven't earned it, but I've learned it.
This is a feeble world run on some pretty thin and miserable set of rules.
Every time I set myself up to see what's next I make sure that it's between another womans legs.

I use my face though, with confidence, makes me feel a little less feeble in a world where a woman can be seduced by a poor artist in less than three sentences.

But that's just the way it is. The artist has that kind of foresight into the world. Being able to taste the sweetness that comes form that art of seduction has everything to do with being an adult.

frosted

What I've wanted to tell you for so long is that you were right! Yeah! you were right! I'm actually completely indebted to you. If if was not for you I'd be sleeping in the streets.

I'm going to be sleeping on the streets is I don't decide to change. The world is turning into something not everyone understands and I'm sitting here thinking about what others are thinking. I don't want to deal with drunk of speed freaks. They don't have any minds.

 So many people are mimes... just stuck. 

Scene 2 act 1

He's woken up by a harsh ray of sunshine. His eyes open. We pan out to see him sleeping on a busy city street's bus bench. He's down town. There's people passing him. In Both directions. He makes his way into a sitting position. He yawns.... pats his hands around. And when he can't find what he's looking for his eye widen and he begins to panic...


He imidietly reaches into his bag thats stashed under the bench... his eyes widen again as he gets a grip on his camera.

"You ain't much! but you're all I got" Right as he say's this he hears his stomach growling... he looks both way thinking of something to eat.

"You're all I got... we have to finish this project together. Before we're allowed to eat."

He takes out a cigarette and a prescription bottle full of pills.. The smile he had staring into the lens of his own camera is over come with the face of a desperate addict. he takes two pills before he stands up and starts his day...

Scene 1 act 1

It was something I needed to do... It was something I needed to do. I needed to do everything. This is so overwhelming.
You gotta start writing more. It'll help with the spelling.

Yeah...


The scene should start off with him walking home....
It's still night out, dawn in coming. He walks through the streets. He watches the cleaning cars clean the streets. Everything is dirty, he's dirty too.

He keeps walking, mean while he drinks a mickey of cheap bourbon.

"Pussy" The scream comes from behind the dumpster. It scares him, but in his drunken stupor he decides to take out his trusty old camera. An old lil relbel with a 50 mm on it. He sneaks behind the dumpster and snaps a photo.

It's dark... the image is blurry, but it's perfect. It's exacly what he needed to finish his work.
The subject an elderly lunatic looking for cans that can talk back to her continues her search without even noticing.
He keeps moving. The day is just beginning to break as he gets to his special place. The Sun is just starting to show his face in the horizon as he sets up the tripod ....

He takes the pictures of the sunrise...

"What'er you doing you bum?"  she asked him. The same woman from the dumpster.

"How's you find me?" he asks. He knows what she's going to say...

"Shut up you fuck face!"

They both just stand there in the sunset and stare. 

sex on a north sask beach ...

What the characters are thinking is easy. We're preset. It's fate. Imagine eating your favorite meal every time for the first time. Dream about having that all the time.

What are the characters thinking, it depends on the them of the story. The story has it's sweet spot. It's not a big deal .... at first. You need to entice the reader. Essentially you have to make them want to hear the story. Suspense, patients helps. ....

Wanna give someone something?  Give them a long drawn out blow job ....

So she let go and just watched ... like a single woman that's watched every law and order

Logic loves me... things that are meant to happen to me all the time. I'm not a failure, I'm a fuck up. There is a difference. Not many people understand that they are all fuck ups. We're not suppose to be here, we're a freak of nature... Why?
Well it started out as a sexual act between celestial entities.. They were young and hardy. Both potent and energetic. They fucked vigorously but they were using condoms. It was how it was done. Preventing any kind of biological exchange was  their way of avoiding the circumstances of life.

One night 15 billion years ago the contraceptive broke and all hell busted loose. The two were caught red handed by fate, fucking. This may have seemed a failure in hind sight but it wasn't. Fate knew they were destined to fuck up and that's why they weren't failures.
They had a baby. It's name was the universe. They stood along side it and watched it grow. They did everything in their power to protect it from failure. That of course caused more fuck ups... which were definite examples of fate playing her part. Failure was never an option until, until of course one of the two celestial entities decided to change. It wasn't that he no longer wanted to be there, it was that he could feel himself harden.
That was the only feeling he despised and he would have done anything to get rid of it. Fate offered him one way out and he took it. It was to fail his partner and leave their universe.
Now this was a failure and not a fuck up but not because of him.. it was because of fate. She knew about the way he was going to behave. It was all happening in her small lil universe in front of her. It was this microcosm of actions that she could relate too..
 She watched the tiny reflections of herself in the matter in front of her. She knew that she would never be recognized by the tiny bodies of material and chemical composites that were floating around in her universe. 

Logic is for the pope

There is so many ways to love. There isn't that many actually.. there is only one. When you love yourself you indulge in other.s.. when you love others they indulge in you. You love others by loving yourself and looking to yourself for the solutions to the problems in your life. If you look to others you'll avoid everything.

I fell in love with this woman a while back...I fell in love with her selfishly though. She was my soul mate.. but I wasn't destined to stay the way I was. Souls change. Peoples hearts don't. Heart is a much more reliable fabric in which one should invest their live. It's funny though because the heart is a vehicle for the soul. Most people don't let themselves take control of their heart. There needs to be more control over everything.. so most people just let there soul stay in their head.

There is many ways to love... but there is only one way to indulge the heart and that's to let it feel. The hear isn't numb. The soul can't feel. So it's scared of hurting it's self since it doesn't know when or if it's hurt, logically it assumes that it's wounded and shouldn't take any risks..
Heart and soul need to join or you're nothing but a fake.

couple shakes like that

Too much of a good thing can cripple you. Imagine not sleeping for a week... Imagine not eating either. Well maybe like a wink ... and a couple shakes or something.

Life was easier in the States, everything was less expensive. I didn't know what I was going back home, I just was. Things weren't going well for me living in Wisconsin. So I drove to Alabama.

The week before I left my life was a series of flops... busts. Well I guess if I look back correctly there was also spring break in Montreal.

"What happened to you in Montreal?" She asked me, she was fucking hot too. Long blonde hair. Taller then me, skinny. The two of us met before spring break, she was an American guest on the international student bus to Michigan. It was a ski trip the first I'd ever been on.

"Eww!! What's that?" She yelled, as I stepped into the hot tub. It was lint from my sock.. I had not rinsed myself off before I hurried to meet up with the girls in the tub. They were all so beautiful. I was only twenty two.
"So what happened in Montreal?"  she asked again. I looked at her with my eyes... I was emotionless and high. She knew that about me, she never cared because she was mess up too.

On her sixteenth birthday she decided to driver her new 4 Runner off the road. No big deal except for her eighteen you wasn't wearing a seat belt. Then found him up ahead a couple dozen meters in the ditch. He was never the same, she blamed herself but she never stopped drinking.

"I was high as fuck in Montreal!" I wasn't lying. I was so tweaking in Quebec I slept with my buddies Roommate, she was seventeen years  older than me.
"So" she was holding my chest when she said it, "what did you do?" I don't think she was expecting me to answer the way I did.

That was one of the first things I did. Losing her put me on the fast track to fucks ville, I was on a one way train. At least with her I went to school. After she broke up with me the only reason I went to school was to meet up with the dude that hustled at pizza hut. We were buddies, he had massive prescription for speed. We talked a lot to each other. He was also the go to dude for weed. His name was Dave and he was my first passenger on the way to get fucked.