Now it’s dark
Current mood: drunk
Category: Life

I fucking wake up, shit that right there is a fucking milestone am I right? Then what should I hear but the heavenly sound of chainsaws ... it's the goddamn soul's midnight in Lumberton ... holy shit.

My throat is fucking clogged with fucking who knows what and my head is singing hallelujah ... what a hangover, dammit you don't fucking know what hungover is ... I don't know anymore whether I'm high or just running on low.

Shootin' a game of pool with the crew the other night I get dizzy and nearly puke my brains out right there on the fucking sawdust covered floor ... missed the boots ... and Raymond chimes in that it's a fucking sign of good luck. SHUT THE FUCK UP I GODDAMN HATE THE SOUND OF YOUR FUCKING VOICE!! I spin back into reality and it's happy hour, more PBR all around. I can't remember who won the game.

You ever go out to eat at two in the morning after you leave the bar, of course in Lumberton there's this swell diner, real retro look shithead you know what I fucking meean smmooooth as shit and the jukebox is full of quarters. Their pancakes taste like overcooked motor oil and the coffee I swear is sewage, but man that's home .... don't tell me I've said this already.

People come up to me and say Frank, shit man how the shit are you where the fuck have you been maaaan? Honestly I don't know, I thought I was right here the whole cuntin time ...

Oh yeah and the neighbors above me ... I'm about to send them a loveletter, real personal shit you know, middle of the night and they sound as though they walk in cement shoes and drop bowling balls for fun ... I tell them to shut up she won't fucking STOP THAT GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING HUMMMING that song won't ...get out of my head ... what I need is the candy

        colored

                clown ...

Currently listening : Roy Orbison - 50 All Time Greatest Hits By Roy Orbison Release date: 2002-10-08

9:47 PM - 4 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

Fucking fucks they never stop
Current mood: Fucked
Category: Fucked Life

You and I friend are asking the same fucking thing, Frank, where the fuck have you been? Doesn’t fucking matter, turn the lights off friends and neighbors, I’m back.

Fuck what the fuck are you looking at, DON’T YOU FUCKING LOOK  AT ME YOU FUCKERS FUCK!!! You want me to get fucking mad, I’ll punch you so hard your mother will fucking die. Shit I’m sick of this ... what’s this on the carpet ... I think Raymond’s bleeding, no that’s fucking lipstick ... shit better not stain. Today those motherfucking windows are coming down ... the light I can’t fucking stand that ASSHOLE SHOT MY WINDOW fucker is going to pay.

The Charger needs a new tire, that fucker Gordon, so fucking suave, shit that man has style. He kicked it saying he was checking the pressure, but that fucker didn’t ... where’s my mask ... I need ... aaah FUCK FUCKERS FUCK LET’S FUCK!!

Am I blind or did the sun just fucking go out? I think I drank kerosene instead of beer. Although my fucking bourbon is what I need. Just some fucking god damn BOURBON CAN’T YOU HEAR ME SHITHEAD I WANT IT NOW.

Fuck you’re irrational. I can see it in your eyes.

Now it’s dark.

Currently listening : Silverhead By Silverhead Release date: 10 June, 1997

1:31 PM - 8 Comments - 18 Kudos - Add Comment

Nuts in the ass crack sundae that is my life
Current mood: angry
Category: Life

Tuesday

Today I saw a midget walking a great dane down the road. She stopped in front of a seedy looking cleaners and tied the dog to a plaster statue of Elvis just outside.

While she was picking up her cleaning, a large dark skinned man walked by in the height of fashion for 1975. He stopped and looked around, then with the stealth of one with experience, he urinated on the dog. An elderly Jewish fellow slowly hobbled over to him shouting "THIS AIN'T A FUCKING GAS STATION MAN!"

I took a deep drag on my cigarette and laughed as the dog just sat there taking it. Shit it was over a hundred degrees today, I'll bet a small part of that dog appreciated the impromptu shower. This man who felt the need to befoul a large domesticated beast, was long gone before the Jewish man ever reached him. The elderly gent just shook his head in disgust and spoke softly to the dog.

Next thing I know the midget woman exits the cleaners and sets her plastic covered garments over the dog's back. She says something to the old man and he laughs and walks off.

I lose sight of her as a large bus headed for the casino slows to a stop in front of me. A busload of hot and frustrated tourists pour out, and they sprawl out towards the corners of the city, maps and cameras in hand.
"Shit," I say, putting my cigarette out on the ground, "this ain't the fucking casino assholes!" Nearby, a red-faced man with the head of a bucket, shoulders of a starting lineback and legs of a chicken overhears me and walks over with a challenging look of bewilderment.

"Do you have any fucking idea how long we've been held on that bus?" He asks.
"Get outta my fucking face asshole, I don't fucking care." I smile and squint in the sun to get a better look at him, how happy I was to see the familiar look of sheer terror behind his eyes.

In the distance, a woman starts a hacking cough, while her friend drones on about how this sort of thing wouldn't happen if they knew who she was, she was someone god dammit... my friend with no neck continued his own narrative with me. "I thought I was going to Vegas, shit, it's been so long since Dora and I have been on vacation."

"Look pal, I need a drink, care to join me?" I offered, slightly curious to hear his story. He nodded and swallowed hard, gazing over the quickly disappating crowd. "She wore the lime green shirt today, I always hated that shirt..." We walked to the nearby bar, the wooden shingles peeling and curling off the roof. A one-legged pigeon strutted by, carrying a half eaten molded hamburger bun in its mouth. I needed something to eat.

Just about the time our pitcher of Pabst arrived, my new found companion once again started retelling the scenes of his nightmare.
"Her mother paid for it, we could never afford it, not on my salary (nervous laugh). I thought what the fuck eh? Better than spending another two weeks over at my brother in law's camping in his front lawn. I thought it was time for us to treat ourselves, Dora is always taking care of her mother, that BITCH!" He punctuated the end of his sentence by slamming his fist on the table, beer sloshed and spilled over the wobbling table.

"Not exactly your dream vacation neighbor?" I said, fueling the fires.

"I wouldn't say so, no. As a matter of fact, perhaps eating roasted marshmallows on my sister's lawn, while watching them eat steak mignon in their dining room, doesn't sound half bad.
My mother suggested we take a bus, as it's 'affordable' and perhaps we'd meet another couple during the trip. Trouble was, when we arrived, our bus broke down and we were all told to board the casino bus and it would take us to our destination.
Some of the people were happy about it, making jokes about the irony of that particular vehicle carting our butts to Sin City. Like they'd just won tickets to ride a zamboni to the Stanley cup finals.
We board the bus and start out on our trip, for the most part all was going smoothly, besides the fact that we'd been allotted seats near the lavatory. The driver had announced there wasn't air conditioning either, as it had busted during a trip to Arizona the night before, as if that would make us more sympathetic to the fact we were all frying like greased pigs.
I was told the trip wouldn't take more than a few hours, and that we would be in Vegas in time to catch a show and a class act meal. Dora beamed as she looked outside the window, I held her hand mister, for the first time in six years I wanted to fuck her brains out. . . " This particular fact choked the man up and his face became more flushed.

It was at this time that I felt some earlier pills start to kick in and my eyelids felt like cement. I felt my head drop a couple of times, so I felt around in my pocket and produced a hit of divine intervention ... a pick me up from the convenience store. It would have to do.

Buckethead continued, "Anyhow I stand up and ask the driver when he expected us to arrive at our destination, when my eye caught sight of a sign, mister. Screw me runnin' if I didn't see, 'next stop: Monona Wisconsin'. My heart went all a flutter like, sheeeyiiit we were just coming from Oklahoma, how difficult is it to get lost?

I go back to my wife and try to look happy, but someone opened the door to the john and ruined all attempts to appear calm. Dora, bless her soul, asks if I'm feeling all right, and says a young woman a few seats up offered to trade places as she was getting off at the next stop. It then dawns on me that perhaps we got on the wrong bus, hell it happens all the time don't it? I lean over to a gentleman reading a yellowed paperback novel and ask 'Sir, do you know where this bus is heading?'
He gives a sheepish grin and nods, 'Of course I do, this is the bus to the slaughterhouse, our time is up.' "

I lick my lips with anticipation just then, this man has some fucked up story and for reasons unknown is sharing the intimate details with yours truly.

Currently reading : Stephen King's Danse Macabre By Stephen King Release date: 04 September, 2001

10:33 PM - 11 Comments - 19 Kudos - Add Comment

I thought that fucker was open until question marks!!!
Category: Life

I can feel it. Fuck. The imminent bile rising in my throat, soon my mouth will be fucking full of whatever should be in my gut. My flesh is crawling, I can't stop fucking scratching, it's times like these I wish...

WOULD YOU SHUT THE GODDAMN FUCKING HELL UP!!??

My heart is racing as I sit here typing, everytime I pick up my rocks glass, it shakes violently in my hand I can't steady the fucker fuck. I shake my head and blink, will this method ever work to clear the feeling I'm going insane?

Is it the neighbors or is my place haunted by demons which I dredged up myself. I heard it I heard the fuckers walking around, shit things are falling off the counters all the time ... and there's another fucking spider. I guess the outdoors isn't good enough anyfucking more. Can't blame 'em.

After all, this is Lumberton.

Welcome to Lumberton in the summertime folks. Oh shit fucking everyone comes back to enjoy the sweet smell of shit and lumber floating freely down the rushing waters. I got a message a couple weeks ago actually that an old friend of mine was coming to town and it brought up a whole fucking ... is that a bug bite or do I have leprosy? Goddamn it itches so bad, fucking fuck fuck where's the fucking ointment?

Oh yeah, so my fucking friend is coming to stay with me, and hell we're going to have a great time a great time indeed. You can tell by my long absence that shit's just great here. But nothing of note has ... no shit I take that back.

It was hotter than a fuckin bitch on fire one sunny afternoon in Lumberton. The gang and I were enjoying some ice cold pabst on a friend's porch. Yesiree friends, fuckin porch swing and all. I think for a small second I was sober enough to feel happy.

Paul rambled on about how he used to play marbles in the dirt behind the feed store as a kid. Ray was too fucked up on shit to stop giggling like a damned schoolgirl at fucking nothing. My head swooned as I dropped off my latest nitrous trip and voices echoed like a pin drop in an echo chamber.

Then outta nowhere like a bat outta goddamn hell, a big ol' fuckin caddy with longhorns mounted on front screeches to a stop in front of us. Dust and chaos ensued and I'm sure I inhaled some shit.

When it all settled, there in front of us stood Nick just as happy as horseshit in his navy blue three piece suit. The cadillac was fucked up three ways to hell, wheel wells and bumpers rusting away, the pale blue sun-bleached paint peeled away underneath the crumbling bubbled up plastic roof. Propped against the backseat, sun glistening off its glorious blades, rests his trusty McCullough chainsaw. Hell, Nick didn't come from Lumberton originally, but he fit right the fuck in.

Shit it had been too long since we'd hung together, so I invited Nick to a couple of rounds down at the Tavern, besides Raymond's laughter was more grating than that rusty ol' chainsaw working its way through rusted steel.

The local watering hole was air conditioned and friendly ninety nine times out of a hundred. But fuck you fuckin turn the heat up in the town and all the sudden its every man woman and child for themselves. The bodies pile into the tavern and demand libations and entertainment. Soon not only is the air condition tested, but the patience of the friendly staff is stretched to its limits as well.

I wasn't going to let that stand in the way of my little reunion though. Nick and I pulled up a couple of seats at a small wobbly round table. Every fucking time one of us moved the table keeled over to one side, spilling coasters and whateverelse, overboard.

It took near eternity to get some service, even hoped to get a young waitress with a promising smile and pleasant exhaustion... but noooo! Instead, a frustrated huffy awkward man shuffles over to us. His hair hung like heavy drapes in front of his eyes, and his odor was so fucking offensive friends, the flies were following him around for the good stuff.

I kept the order simple though, a bottle of the finest bourbon and two rocks glasses filled with plenty of ice. Once the shit got to our table the stories and booze were flowing simultaneously. It seemed we talked for hours about nothing, and dammit if I couldn't even tell you the gist. But man we fucking laughed our asses off!

Finishing off that bourbon, the day headed into twilight, and I had a couple of debts to collect as well as check out the new stripper at Ben's club. The 'waiter' shuffled over after awhile and slid the check towards the middle. I picked it up... and handed him a handful of wadded bills that I had saved for just this occassion. I heard him scoff about us 'gypin' him and spit on the ground.

The corner of Nick's mouth twisted up into a sinister grin and he twisted his cigarette out on the end of his tongue.
"Oh boy ... Gar-kon ... jackass!" he called after our server, who promptly halted and shuffled back over to our table.
"Do you have a problem with our payment?" Nick asked, tapping his fingers on the table.
"Naw man," our waiter quickly replied, "I can put this towards that soda I've been eyein' at the gas station." he emitted a series of honks and snorts of laughter at his own joke... but it was short lived as I cut into his diaphragm with a sharp blow then grabbed the back of his filthy neck and slammed his head into the table, which of course flipped over and cracked him in the back of his head before falling over.

I picked him back up and punched him square in the mouth. I could hear the frenzied shuffling of the other patrons getting out of the way, and the hushed tones of their disapproval (or their admiration) I took out my mask and slowly huffed a couple deep breaths of nitrous while Nick fired up the old rusty chainsaw.

Little Richard belted out "Rooty Tooty" from the speakers of the jukebox as I brought the waiter to his knees.
"What do you fucking think of your shitty tip now asshole?" I shrieked over the brass section. Nick laughed and kicked the hipster doofus square in the nuts. Soon the situation rose to a fevered pitch and we were dealing blows in time to the music. But of course soon the all too familiar whines of a black and white's siren echoed in the hot air and Nick and I cut out.

"We'll have to do this again soon." Nick said, lying back in the driver's seat as we cruised toward the sunset.
"Fuck." was all I could say.

Fuck.

12:15 AM - 6 Comments - 16 Kudos - Add Comment

It's a fucking rush
Current mood: FUCK
Category: FUCK Life

Shit man I fucking live for the dark, when only a flicker of light remains and all else is dead. The past few days and nights have been a blur to me and I'm not sure whether or not I'm awake or still sleeping. Of course with a buzz like this I couldn't possibly be floating in the clouds while "blogging" to an unknown few.

Fuck it's dark now, the sound of bone grinding crunches and high pitched screaming a dull throb of metal against metal contrasting with the white noise of the industrial sized fan. Yeah. I'm familiar with the factories in Lumberton, one lives right across the way from my window. Although I don't fucking know what the fuck those shitheads do.

Popped open another beer, the nitrous is wearing down, I'll have to remember to pick up the helium tank tomorrow. How do you fucking like that? Why don't more people do it ...it keeps me fucking elastic!!

There's something in my beer. I think it's alive. shit.

Why don't I tell you about the other night while I'm here, before I'm carried away once again, those hands are so cold.

Last week I was sleep deprived and meeting with my inside man who was promising a fucking gold mine of goods if I helped him. It had been awhile since he had delivered and the well was running dry. Why the fuck should I now trust him and invest my time and money?
My brain hurt, it pressed against my skull in the hot summer sun as I stood in front of the building with him. He was speaking backwards, fuck.
"nwod yal dna tihs siht fo emos ekat,ereH .llew os kool t'nod uoy ,knarF"

A paper bag was then placed in my hand, he nodded and waved. Was that blood coming out of his mouth? Inside my apartment I dumped the bag's content on my round table. Such a fantastic mixture splayed in front of me. I grabbed a handful and took them down with the bourbon still on the table from that morning.

Four hours later I was sitting at the club with my crew, filling ourselves with whatever liquor passed our way. Paul engaged us with a drifting tale about some young couple he had met. I was concentrating more on keeping up with Raymond who always insists he can drink me under the table, but always ends up puking or passing out. God damn the pusher man.

"Did you hear that Frank?" all I saw was a thick blob of a man blurred, Hunter leaned in and nudged me back into conciousness. I sat up and shook off that last shot. "Too much fucking beer, let's go eat."

We all pile into the car and I peel out of the dirt covered driveway and roar down the mainstreet. I think I ran over a man, but it could have been a plastic bag of clothes. Soon we came to a fucking jack-in-the-box. I could have killed about a dozen burgers with fries and a shake so we pull into the drive through.

I start yelling at the plastic clown about how much I fucking want his candy colored ass to make me some food. He always replies in the same garbled backwards talk. "What the fuck is he saying?" I shout.
"I think he wants you to suck the juice of a china fawn." Hunter said, to which Raymond let out a wild hyena-like laugh.
"10.34 . . . 10.34. . . 10:34. . ." Paul rambled under his breath.

Fuck that shit I pull to the window and the man behind the window repeats what the clown said, he's blind in one eye and he hands me a greasy hot paper bag.
"nwod yal dna tihs siht fo emos ekat,ereH .llew os kool t'nod uoy ,knarF"

Currently watching : Un Chien Andalou Release date: 26 December, 2004

1:39 AM - 10 Comments - 15 Kudos - Add Comment

and the horsefiles chewed away at the rotten meat
Current mood: cold

I stood there on the sun baked mud, the only sounds were the birds and the wheezing gasps of the bloodied victim who lay in a pile at my feet. 
"Ray, what time is it?" I finally managed to say, my heart was racing.
"It's almost midnight, Frank, you wanna go somewhere?"
"Fuck yes! Get in the fucking car, we're going for a ride!"
I slid in behind the wheel of the Charger, my eyes afire with excitement. I watched as my hands smeared blood, sweat and dirt down the steering wheel.

As the vehicle blazed back towards that one horse shithole, Lumberton, the countryside was a blur. Inside the car, though,  time slowed down. Voices sounded deep and low, the high pitched cackle of Ray's laughter screeched and stretched through the air. I needed to clear my head before I careened off the road.

My hand instinctively reached for the mask, with a twist of the knob, soon the candy colored clown would be with me.
"FUCK who the fuck got something on this steering wheel, I told you shitheads  not to touch the fuck--ing caaar!!" I swerved quickly into a roadside bar, the neon lights flickering and buzzing in the cool morning air.  The crew and I hadn't been there often, and all eyes turned towards us as we strolled through the entrance.

"I'm going to wash up . . . Would one of you useless morons get some drinks?!" My voice roared throughout the room and the veins in my head began to pulse, colored ribbons streaked down the walls and into the dusty wooden floorboards, as I made my way to the men's room. A trembling filth encrusted hand turned the leaky faucet on. I laughed as I watched the rust colored water race into the drain, washing it all away. Convulsions took my body as I watched flames flicker up the walls ... I wanted bluuuue velvet. It was an eternity until I had command of my limbs once more. I sat with the crew at a corner table, a pitcher of Pabst Blue Ribbon as the centerpiece. Slow country music blared out of the jukebox..

Why is it there are certain people who we can't fucking tolerate? The very mention of their name might get your heart pumping or cause one to need a cigarette, or in extreme cases, punch the nearest object. I suppose you figure there are a lot of people who do that to me, which would be true. That night, however, a man by the name of Mitchell Charleston nearly drove me to the brink.

He strolled into that same bar that the crew and I were camping at. Paul and Raymond were busy tossing peanuts at a nearby group of young "emo" looking college students. Mitchell threw open the door as though he were the hero in a sixties spaghetti western. After ordering a beer loud enough to wake the dead, he sombered his bad self towards us.

My eyes lit up as the beer began to mix with my angry blood, "Fuck you fucking asshole! What the shit do you want?" I asked. The damn idiot just sneered, looked me up and down and said "Aren't you a bit out of the city stranger?" A string of spit shot out of his mouth and splashed near our feet. 
"Are you saying my friends and I aren't welcome?"
"I'm sayin' you'd better not think of getting too comfortable." The bartender's eyes darted nervously as he cleaned the same space of counter a dozen times over. We became excited, there might be some unexpected fun coming our way.

I went to kick over the table, only to find it was bolted to the dust and peanut covered floor. Instead I smiled and scoffed, "Well Charleston, it seems to me that you owe me. Shit I should be fucking mayor of this town!"
"How d'ya figure that ..." Mitch furrowed his brow and shifted his feet watching Raymond flick his knife open and shut.
I paused and rubbed my chin, and drank a couple pills down with my beer. "Because if you don't shut the fuck up I'm going to punch in your fucking head fuck!" With that, I chucked my glass at his feet, causing my friends to chuckle and throw their glasses as well.

It was time to leave.
"Not even a fucking billiard table here!! How the fuck to you shitheads make any god damn money!?" I shouted. Passing by Charleston, my right hand balled into a fist and flew straight at his gut, and then I broke his idiotic nose ...
"That's better, c'mon guys, we're going to visit some friends."

Currently listening : Violator By Depeche Mode Release date: 22 February, 1990

2:55 AM - 9 Comments - 13 Kudos - Add Comment

Where's Patsy Cline when you need her?
Current mood: lethargic
Category: Life

Shit I just took a handful of pills and the objects in front of me are melting into a giant blob. As a matter of fact my head hurts, I think my brain has outgrown my head and it's time to move onto another victim.

All over my body aches, who knows why and at this point I care very little. My skin is burning with a passionate fire causing me to sweat and all I really want to do is fuck. Glancing over at the clock I see the hours tick past and nothing seems worth getting up for. What the fuck, those fuckers aren't fucking putting me away yet.

So I reach into the fridge and fortunately pull out a fresh can of Pabst Blue Ribbon which had been neighboring a very ripe old slice of pizza. I can't think fucking straight ... all I remember is that I'm supposed to cut down my stress so I don't have a fucking stroke and drop dead. I grab my mask which is hanging from the tank ... deep breaths Frank keep taking deep breaths.

FUCK!! That's refreshing, with a buzz on that would cause the average Joe College boy to keel over I hop into my car and speed off towards the unknown. Who the fuck knows where I'm going and at points who the fuck cares? Oh the days when people want to be so anonymous they could get away with murder ...
I pull up into the dirt covered lot in front of the bar, the warm neon lights flicker on and off, the clarion call to the alcoholic and the addict. It's foolish to think you can resist it. I slam a wad of miscellaneous bills onto the beer soaked bar and ask for something strong. The bartender's mouth draws back into a crooked grin, revealing a missing tooth and tar tortured gums. A rocks glass is placed in front of me, turning the napkin coaster underneath into a wet wad of gummy crap.

I stare at the golden liquid inside, my eyes have glazed over and I'm feeling no pain, in fact I too bear a sinister smile. I shoot that fucker down my fucking throat, shit, it was like swallowing the devil's spit. It burned going down and hit me like a ton of bricks.

I was about to request another when the loud braying laughter of youth cut through me like a rusty surgeon's scalpel. I wipe my mouth and stroll over to the offenders ... the wonder boys are from the local high school, all with crew cuts and shit eating grins on their faces. A particularly shit for brains jack ass decided to be the spokesperson and stood up in front of me.
"You got a problem mister?" Fuck, I thought, surely this fucker doesn't think he's addressing me? His orange hair did little for his freckle faced ugliness, with an upturned nose, thick lips, and eyes that seemed pressed into biscuit dough staring me down.

Soon a few of my friends were at my side and I laughed "Your party is getting a little loud, do you think you could manage to keep your idiocy contained?" I said politely, being one to respect manners. He just laughed, more like guffawed and the rest of his friends joined in, some told us to fuck off.

That was the end of it, a couple guys took his arms and held the shithead who had ruined my night, possibly my week. I hit him until my arms grew weary, none of his friends had the balls to fucking stop me, and now it was my turn to laugh.

The rest of the night is sort of a blue my friends ... my eyes can't see straight and it would be a miracle if I could lift my fucking head up ... but like I say I have taken a lot of pills. Someone turn out the lights please...

9:43 PM - 17 Comments - 21 Kudos - Add Comment

Red eye fuck
Current mood: groggy
Category: Life

It's nearing three in the fucking morning as my mind drifts in and out of  conciousness. My eyes are sore, dry and I'm sure as shit they're fucking bloodshot as well. The amount of shit I put through my body and mind everyday it's a wonder I can stand straight on my own.

I reach for a bottle of bourbon, only to find it empty and instead settle for an ice cold Pabst I find in the fridge. There next to the six pack of bottles is a wrapped slice of American cheese. I try to recall the last time I went shopping, or for that matter bought cheese. My head lulls forward as I pass out and smacks against the freezer handle ... suddenly it no longer matters and I find myself scarfing a moldy ripe piece of fucking processed "cheese" product. How low class.

Lighting a cigarette I fall into my favorite ratty overstuffed easy chair, which has been stained and worn with age. In the opposite corner of the living room lies a tank of sweet amyl nitrate ... a passage into that other world. The question being ultimately do I fucking want it bad enough? Well do I?

The olive green rotary phone stares at me from the table where I ash my cigarette, good ol' Roy Orbison croons on about his lost loves and I find myself dreaming of the woman, the one that got away. My hand goes for the receiver and I dial her number. Tears well in my eyes and my temples throb with excruciating pressure. Roy seems to be far off and underwater now as the cigarette rolls from my fingers and dances onto the orange shag carpet.

"Shit!" I fucking stomp out the dying embers and slam the phone down as the dial tone is making me sick. Before I have time to finish my beer there's a knocking at the door. I answer the phone. "Fuck fuuuuck shithead do you know what time it is what are you calling for? Mommy mommy is that you?!" The knocking persists and I realize it's not coming through the line.

As I turn to answer the door it all feels like slow motion, the turning of the doorknob an eternal wrench of my wrist, my head feels like a fucking bowling ball. I crack the door open, only afterwards realizing I failed to check my peephole, fortunately it was only one of my cronies.

"Paul what the fuck do you want it's three am?" The words seem clear and concise in my head but they might have been slurred as they tripped and oozed from the recesses of my mind and out of my mouth. Paul was too busy inspecting the moulding on the door to notice and he smiled at me queerly.

"Jesus' mother knew my grandfather back in the war and that's where the government started the eubonics vaccine." He chortled and walked into my kitchen, I shut the door behind him and tried to recall what it was I was thinking.

It doesn't matter now ... I woke up on the floor staring as a black bug made it's slow way up one of the threads in the carpet, to the bug it must have seemed like a great summit that it had achieved. I went to say something, my mouth tastes like fucking blood and ashes ... with one fell swoop of my hand I diminished the bug into a smudge among the shag. Far above I'm sure some giant entity is gazing at me with similar disdain.

Paul finished whatever was in the cupboards and slept in my room as once again my eyes glazed over and my body seized into a fit, brought on by the lack of or the overindulgence in drugs. Soon I fell asleep ... and again it was dark.

the light no longer threatens

Currently listening : Black & White Night By Roy Orbison Release date: 07 February, 2006

11:43 PM - 16 Comments - 21 Kudos - Add Comment

Talkin' bout my Degeneration
Current mood: high
Category: Life

Now it's dark.

This week is dragging it's Kansas-sized ass slower than lame elderly turtles through winter molasses. I fucking feel as though someone dropped a dump truck on my head, stole my brain and inserted an uncomfortable piece of shrapnel in its place. That's how I feel.

So it wasn't any surprise when shit started to hit that preverbial industrial fan. As Jack Torrence said in Stanley Kubrick's film "The Shining", "Honey, I'm home."
Fuck if I know what that means.

To some people, the thought of getting out of bed in the morning seems second nature, no deep thought or meaning behind it. Now try waking up in a dank lonely apartment on the kitchen floor ... suddenly it's not all sunshine and kosher pickles.
I'm not a morning person to say the least, and yet I've been known to conduct business at 11:00 in the morning, go drinking in the afternoon, but it's truly during the dark hours that I shine.

Last week I was working a deal for a friend of mine, I had promised an early shipment of some fucking pills, and he was kind enough to pay in advance. It didn't seem a difficult task, especially if I used my old police connections.
I had planned for the whole thing to go down at five in the evening, and timed it out so I could get the shit to my friend that night at a local strip club.

The week had been going bad right out of the gate. I had to go to a nearby town to purchase some tanks of the good stuff and as I was putting them away I discovered one was completely empty! I could have fucking killed someone! Fuckers fucks fucking mess with me, I paid good money. It wasn't until I was beating the shit out of the owner that I realized my error, it was merely an old antique vase that I store in the closet ... I did get a great deal on my next purchase of twenty tanks or more.

But I digress ... fuck ... so Gordon and I get on the scene of the deal, we sat there and talk about what's going on in the seedy underbelly of Lumberton nightlife, when we're accosted by some fucking street walker. I tried in vain to get her to go elsewhere to hock her wares. Gordon merely scoffed as I looked at him -- I was trying to suggest he threaten her with the ol' "I'm a policeman" and whip out his badge shit ... but noooo the fucker just stood there like a soldier as the woman pawed my good leather.

I looked at my watch and saw I had a quarter til and decided it was enough time to get rid of the bitch. I led her over to a side alley behind a dumpster and offered her a couple of eight balls I had for the ride home. Her glazed over eyes leered at me from underneath her heavy eyelids and a ribbon of slobber slowly made its way from the corner of her mouth to the ground. She starts swayin' so I decided it was time to split. As I walked away I hear her mumble something and she pulls out a knife.

It was time to roll my eyes, this can't be happening. I tell her to fucking shut up and punch her in her mouth, I feel her jaw loosen and snap under the pressure of my fist and a few teeth spilled from her mouth as her body hit the ground with a juicy *thud* I kicked her a couple of times for good measure and strolled back over to the spot only to find Gordon had fled the coup.

To sober up from the fucking experience I head to the Deep River apartments, where that dried up lounge singer lives. I wondered if she were in, and if so was it worth walking up the stairs to find out. I see some woman with a stack of  Jehovah's witness literature and decided to come back later ... much later.

When I returned to my fucking hole in the wall I was surprised to see Gordon who had a fucking briefcase. He passed it off to me, let me know the fucking deal was done and he'd taken his cut. 'Cause he's the man.

Time to go to Ben's, I haven't seen Ben in awhile.

Currently listening : Gunfighter Ballads & Trail Songs By Marty Robbins Release date: 19 October, 1999

10:25 PM - 13 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

When life hands you meat, fuck lemonade!
Current mood: anxious
Category: Life

If you were about to point out that it's been several weeks since I have written a blog, or commented you, you're probably right. Sometimes life throws you a fucking ... whatever shit that doesn't matter. Let's go for a joyride friend.

So I've been a bit distressed lately, it seems no one can fucking do anything right! I am surrounded by fucking shit heads who couldn't find their own mother in a fucking line up. Where does this leave me but a lot of excess work and correcting others mistakes.

To let some steam out I visited my latest victim, a lovely woman  who is having an affair on her drug dealing husband, with her girlfriend from Zip City Alabama. I got over to the cunt's place and she was fucking chugging a box of wine while her girlfriend sucked oysters out of the halfshell. I asked her what the fuck she was doing, I had fucking called ahead and said we were going out.

She had the audacity to toss the remainder of the wine on me, it soaked my favorite shirt and ruined the pills in my pocket I had placed there for later. I fucking lost it. I was able to keep the blood off my clothes though. A few huffs on the mask and I left happy.

I walked out to my car and noticed a fucking ticket left on the windshield, shit thought I, who the fuck had the balls in this town to leave me a fucking ticket. Fuck the ticket, it died, I ripped it up into pieces and set a nearby brush on fire.

As I drove down the dirt roads of Lumberton's rural sidestreets, I fucking saw some drugged up wino who wandered down the motherfucking street, he wove in and out of my path and I fucking couldn't stand it, my nerves were on fire my heart was about to burst I fucking screamed at the top of my lungs, "Hey shit for brains use the fucking sidewalk or fucking pass out already!"

I hit him with my car, he lived. fuck.

Then to top it all fuckers, I meet up with the crew at the fucking bar later on and Raymond had to pipe up that my fucking shirt looked like it had a stain on it. I said "Thank you Raymond, I knew it was there I was just seeing if you noticed." To which the group started braying fucking laughter. My head was about to split open.

The bartender fucking told me that they were out of cold Pabst on tap, so I said I would take a fucking bourbon and quick. I went to take the pills from earlier, only to fucking remember they had dissolved in my shirt pocket. Shit you know what fucking am I fucking on?

Now it's dark.

10:31 PM - 14 Comments - 25 Kudos - Add Comment