James Joyce

To NORA

Dublin   2 December 1909
………………………….
My love for you allows me to pray to the spirit of eternal beauty and tenderness mirrored in your eyes or fling you down under me on that softy belly of yours and fuck you up behind, like a hog riding a sow, glorying in the very stink and sweat that rises from your arse, glorying in the open shape of your upturned dress and white girlish drawers and in the confusion of your flushed cheeks and tangled hair. It allows me to burst into tears of pity and love at some slight word, to tremble with love for you at the sounding of some chord or cadence of music or to lie heads and tails with you feeling your fingers fondling and tickling my ballocks or stuck up in me behind and your hot lips sucking off my cock while my head is wedged in between your fat thighs, my hands clutching the round cushions of your bum and my tongue licking ravenously up your rank red cunt. I have taught you almost to swoon at the hearing of my voice singing or murmuring to your soul the passion and sorrow and mystery of life and at the same time have taught you to make filthy signs to me with your lips and tongue, to provoke me by obscene touches and noises, and even to do in my presence the most shameful and filthy act of the body. You remember the day you pulled up your clothes and let me lie under you looking up at you while you did it? Then you were ashamed even to meet my eyes.

You are mine, darling, mine! I love you. All I have written above is only a moment or two of brutal madness. The last drop of seed has hardly been squirted up your cunt before it is over and my true love for you, the love of my verses, the love of my eyes for your strange luring eyes, comes blowing over my soul like a wind of spices. My prick is still hot and stiff and quivering from the last brutal drive it has given you when a faint hymn is heard rising in tender pitiful worship of you from the dim cloisters of my heart.

Nora, my faithful darling, my seet-eyed blackguard schoolgirl, be my whore, my mistress, as much as you like (my little frigging mistress! My little fucking whore!) you are always my beautiful wild flower of the hedges, my dark-blue rain-drenched flower.

JIM


To NORA

 Dublin  3 December 1909
……………………………….
……., you seem to turn me into a beast. It was you yourself, you naughty shameless girl who first led the way. It was not I who first touched you long ago down at Ringsend. It was you who slid your hand down down inside my trousers and pulled my shirt softly aside and touched my prick with your long tickling fingers and gradually took it all, fat and stiff as it was, into your hand and frigged me slowly until I came off through your fingers, all the time bending over me and gazing at me out of your quiet saintlike eyes. It was your lips too which first uttered an obscene word. I remember well that night in bed in Pola.

Tired of lying under a man one night you tore off your chemise violently and got on top of me to ride me naked. You stuck my prick into your cunt and began to ride me up and down. Perhaps the horn I had was not big enough for you for I remember that you bent down to me face and murmured tenderly "Fuck up, love! Fuck up, love!"

Nora dear, I am dying all day to ask you one or two questions. Let me, dear, for I have told you everything I ever did and so I can ask you in turn. When that person (Vincent Cosgrave) whose heart I long to stop with the click of a revolver put his hand or hands under your skirts did he only tickle you outside or did he put his finger or fingers up into you? If he did, did they go up far enough to touch that little cock at the end of your cunt? Did he touch you behind? Was he a long time tickling you and did you come? Did he ask you to touch him and did you do so? If you did not touch him did he come against you and did you feel it?

Another question, Nora. I know that I was the first man that blocked you but did any man ever frig you? Did that boy (Michael Bodkin) you were fond of ever do it? Tell me now, Nora, truth for truth, honesty for honesty. When you were with him in the dark at night did your fingers never, never unbutton his trousers and slip inside like mice? Did you ever frig him, dear, tell me truly or anyone else? Did you never, never, never feel a man's or a boy's prick in your fingers until you unbuttoned me?  If you are not offended do not be afraid to tell me the truth. Darling, darling, tonight I have such a wild lust for your body that if you were here beside me and even if you told me with your lips that half the redheaded louts in the county Galway had had a fuck at you before me I would still rush at you with desire.

…………………………………………………….


To NORA
Dublin 6 December 1909
………………………………..
I would like you to wear drawers with three or four frills one over the other at the knees and up the thighs and great crimson bows in them, I mean not schoolgirls' drawers with a thin shabby lace border, thigh round the legs and so thin that the flesh shows with a full loose bottom and wide legs, all frills and lace and ribbons, and heavy with perfume so that whenever you show them, whether in pulling up your clothes hastily to do something or cuddling yourself up prettily to be blocked, I can see only a swelling mass of white stuff and frills and so that when I bend down over you to open them and give you a burning lustful kiss on your naughty bare bum I can smell the perfume of your drawers as well as the warm odour of your cunt and the heavy smell of your behind.

Have I shocked you by the dirty things I wrote to you? You think perhaps that my love is a filthy thing. It is, darling, at some moments. I dream of you in filthy poses sometimes. I imagine things so very dirty that I will not write them until I see how you write yourself. The smallest things give me a great cockstand - a whorish movement of your mouth, a little brown stain on the seat of your white drawers, a sudden dirty word spluttered out by your wet lips, a sudden immodest noise made by you behind and then a bad smell slowly curling up out of your backside. At such moments I feel mad to do it in some filthy way, to feel your hot lecherous lips sucking away at me, to fuck between your two rosy-tipped bubbies, to come on your face and squirt it over your hot cheeks and eyes, to stick it between the cheeks of your rump and bugger you.

Basta per stasera!

I hope you got my telegram and understood it.

Goodbye, my darling whom I am trying to degrade and deprave. How on God's earth can you possibly love a thing like me?

O, I am anxious to get your reply, darling!

 JIM


To NORA
Dublin  8 December 1909
My sweet little whorish Nora I did as you told me, you dirty little girl, and pulled myself off twice when I read your letter. I am delighted to see that you do like being fucked arseways. Yes, now I can remember that night when I fucked you for so long backwards. It was the dirtiest fucking I ever gave you, darling. My prick was stuck in you for hours, fucking in and out under your upturned rump. I felt your fat sweaty buttocks under my belly and saw your flushed face and mad eyes. At every fuck I gave you your shameless tongue came bursting out through your lips and if a gave you a bigger stronger fuck than usual, fat dirty farts came spluttering out of your backside. You had an arse full of farts that night, darling, and I fucked them out of you, big fat fellows, long windy ones, quick little merry cracks and a lot of tiny little naughty farties ending in a long gush from your hole. It is wonderful to fuck a farting woman when every fuck drives one out of her. I think I would know Nora's fart anywhere. I think I could pick hers out in a roomful of farting women. It is a rather girlish noise not like the wet windy fart which I imagine fat wives have. It is sudden and dry and dirty like what a bold girl would let off in fun in a school dormitory at night. I hope Nora will let off no end of her farts in my face so that I may know their smell also.

You say when I go back you will suck me off and you want me to lick your cunt, you little depraved blackguard. I hope you will surprise me some time when I am asleep dressed, steal over to me with a whore's glow in your slumberous eyes, gently undo button after button in the fly of my trousers and gently take out your lover's fat mickey, lap it up in your moist mouth and suck away at it till it gets fatter and stiffer and comes off in your mouth. Sometimes too I shall surprise you asleep, lift up your skirts and open your drawers gently, then lie down gently by you and begin to lick lazily round your bush. You will begin to stir uneasily then I will lick the lips of my darling's cunt. You will begin to groan and grunt and sigh and fart with lust in your sleep. Then I will lick up faster and faster like a ravenous dog until your cunt is a mass of slime and your body wriggling wildly.

Goodnight, my little farting Nora, my dirty little fuckbird! There is one lovely word, darling, you have underlined to make me pull myself off better. Write me more about that and yourself, sweetly, dirtier, dirtier.

JIM


To NORA
Dublin  9 December 1909
My sweet naughty little fuckbird, Here is another note to buy pretty drawers or stockings or garters. Buy whorish drawers, love, and be sure you sprinkle the legs of them with some nice sent and also discolour them just a little behind.

You seem anxious to know how I received your letter which you say is worse than mine. How is it worse than mine, love? Yes, it is worse in one part or two. I mean the part where you say what you will do with your tongue (I don't mean sucking me off) and in that lovely word you write so big and underline, you little blackguard. It is thrilling to hear that word (and one or two others you have not written) on a girl's lips. But I wish you spoke of yourself and not of me. Write me a long long letter , full of that and other things, about yourself, darling. You know now how to give me a cockstand. Tell me the smallest things about yourself so long as they are obscene and secret and filthy. Write nothing else. Let every sentence be full of dirty immodest words and sounds. They are all lovely to hear and to see on paper even but the dirtiest are the most beautiful.

The two parts of your body  which do dirty things are the loveliest to me. I prefer your arse, darling, to your bubbies because it does such a dirty thing. I love your cunt not so much because it is the part I block but because it does another dirty thing. I could lie frigging all day looking at the divine word you wrote and at the thing you said you would do with your tongue. I wish I could hear your lips spluttering those heavenly exciting filthy words, see your mouth making dirty sounds and noises, feel your body wriggling under me, hear and smell the dirty fat girlish farts going pop pop out of your pretty bare girlish bum and fuck fuck fuck fuck my naughty little hot fuckbird's cunt for ever.

I am happy now, because my little whore tells me she wants me to roger her arseways and wants me to fuck her mouth and wants to unbutton me and pull out my mickey and suck it off like a teat. More and dirtier than this she wants to do, my little naked fucker, my naughty wriggling little frigger, my sweet dirty little farter.

Goodnight, my little cuntie I am going to lie down and pull at myself until I come. Write more and dirtier, darling. Tickle your little cockey while you write to make you say worse and worse. Write the dirty words big and underline them and kiss them and hold them for a moment to your sweet hot cunt, darling, and also pull up your dress a moment and hold them under your dear little farting bum. Do more if you wish and send the letter then to me, my darling brown-arsed fuckbird.

JIM


To NORA
Dublin (?) 13 December 1909
....................................
I would be delighted to feel my flesh tingling under your hand . Do you know what I mean, Nora dear? I wish you would smack me or flog me even. Not in play, dear, in earnest and on my naked flesh. I wish you were strong, strong, dear, and had a big full proud bosom and big fat thighs.  I would love to be whipped by you, Nora love! I would love to have done something to displease you, something trivial even, perhaps one of my rather dirty habits that make you laugh: and then to hear you call me into your room and then to find you sitting in an armchair with your fat thighs far apart and your face deep red with anger and a cane in your hand. To see you point to what I had done and then with a movement of rage pull me towards you and throw me face downwards across your lap. Then to feel your hands tearing down my trousers and inside clothes and turning up my shirt, to be struggling in your strong arms and in your lap, to feel you bending down (like an angry nurse whipping a child's bottom) until your big full bubbies almost touched me and to feel you flog, flog, flog me viciously on my naked quivering flesh!!

………………………………

To NORA
Dublin  15 December 1909
………………………………………….
No letter! Now I am sure my girlie is offended at my filthy words. Are you offended, dear, as what I said about your drawers? That is all nonsense, darling. I know they are spotless as your hearth. I know I could lick them all over, frills, legs and bottom. Only I love in my dirty way to think that in a certain part they are soiled. It is all nonsense, too, dear, about buggering you. It is only the dirty sound of the word I like, the idea if a shy beautiful young girl like Nora pulling up her clothes behind and revealing her sweet white girlish drawers in order to excite the dirty fellow she is so fond of; and then letting him stick his dirty red lumpy pole in through the split of her drawers and up up up in the darling little hole between her plump fresh buttocks.

Darling, I came off just now in my trousers so that I am utterly played out. I cannot go to the G.P.O. though I have three letters to post.

To bed - to bed!
Goodnight, Nora mia!

JIM


To NORA
Dublin   16 December 1909
My sweet darling girl At last you write to me! You must have given that naughty little cunt of yours a most ferocious frigging to write me such a disjointed letter. As for me, darling, I am so played out that you would have to lick me for a good hour before I could get a horn stiff enough even to put into you, to say nothing of blocking you. I have done so much and so often that I am afraid to look to see how that thing I had is after all I have done to myself. Darling, please don't fuck me too much when I go back. Fuck all you can out of me for the first night or so but make me get myself cured. The fucking must all be done by you, darling as I am so small and soft now that no girl in Europe except yourself would waste her time trying the job. Fuck me, darling, in as many new ways as your lust will suggest. Fuck me dressed in your full outdoor costume with your hat and veil on, your face flushed with the cold and wind and rain and your boots muddy, either straddling across my legs  when I am sitting in a chair and riding me up and down with the frills of your drawers showing and my cock sticking up stiff in your cunt or riding me over the back of the sofa. Fuck me naked with your hat and stockings on only flat on the floor with a crimson flower in your hole behind, riding me like a man with your thighs between mine and your rump very fat. Fuck me in your dressing gown (I hope you have that nice one) with nothing on under it, opening it suddenly and showing me your belly and thighs and back an pulling me on top of you on the kitchen table. Fuck me into you arseways, lying on your face on the bed, with your hair flying loose naked but with a lovely scented pair of pink drawers opened shamelessly behind and half sleeping down over your peeping bum. Fuck me on the stairs in the dark, like a nursery-maid fucking her soldier, unbuttoning his trousers gently and slipping her hand in his fly and fiddling with his shirt and feeling it getting wet and then pulling it gently up and fiddling with his two bursting balls and at last pulling out boldly the mickey  she loves to handle and frigging it for him softly, murmuring into his ear dirty words and dirty stories that other girls told her and dirty things she said, and all the time pissing her drawers with pleasure and letting off soft warm quiet little farts behind until her own girlish cockey is as stiff as his and suddenly sticking him up in her and riding him.

Basta! Basta per Dio!

I have come now and the foolery is over.  Now for your questions!

…………………………………………..
Get ready. Put some warm-brown-linoleum on the kitchen and hang a pair of red common curtains on the windows at night. Get some kind of a cheap common comfortable armchair for your lazy lover. Do this above all, darling, as I shall not quit that kitchen for a whole week after I arrive, reading, lolling, smoking, and watching you get ready the meals and talking, talking, talking, talking to you.  O how supremely happy I shall be! God in heaven, I shall be happy there! I figlioli, il fuoco, una buona mangiata, un caffè nero, un Brasil (cigar), il Piccolo della Sera, e Nora, Nora mia, Norina, Noretta, Noruccia ecc ecc...

Eva and Eileen must sleep together. Get some place for Georgie. I wish Nora and I had two beds for night-work. I am keeping and shall keep my promise, love. Time fly on quickly! I want to go back to my love, my life, my star, my little strange-eyed Ireland!

A hundred thousand kisses, darling!

JIM


To NORA
Dublin    20 December 1909
My sweet naughty girl   I got your hot letter tonight and have been trying to picture you frigging your cunt in the closet. How do you do it? Do you stand against the wall with your hand tickling up under your clothes or do you squat down on the hole with your skirts up and your hand hard at work in through the slit of your drawers? Does it give you the horn now to shit? I wonder how you can do it. Do you come in the act of shitting or do you frig yourself off first and then shit? It must be a fearfully lecherous thing to see a girl with her clothes up frigging furiously at her cunt, to see her pretty white drawers pulled open behind and her bum sticking out and a fat brown thing stuck half-way out of her hole. You say you will shit your drawers, dear, and let me fuck you then. I would like to hear you shit them, dear, first and then fuck you. Some night when we are somewhere in the dark and talking dirty and you feel your shite ready to fall put your arms round my neck in shame and shit it down softly. The sound will madden me and when I pull up your dress

Bubbles

1 gallon water
1 cup dish soap (Dawn/Joy)
1 "spoon" glycerin
2  drinking straws
string (thicker is better than the thin kite string)

Hell

Hell is a state of being, which I'm sure many of you can relate to. The more negative things you do in live, the more negative you make yourself. The more negative you make yourself, the worse your life becomes, and you are literally living in hell. You are punished for your sins, but you are punished by your own hand.

Good people are not punished, but only appear to be. It is a testing, like the Book of Job. The point of this is to forge your soul in a crucible of fire. You will experience pain, but you will come out with a heart made of steel.

Kurt Vonnegut

We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.

Karl Ludwig Börne

Losing an illusion makes you wiser than finding a truth.

Get off my porch!

kids these days
Goddamn punks
with their dirty dancing
and their hip-hop
and their facebooks
christing bastards

Sara Goldfarb

It's a reason to get up in the morning. It's a reason to lose weight, to fit in the red dress. It's a reason to smile. It makes tomorrow alright.

Clubbing

I used to go clubbing by myself because my friends were too lame. If you do it regularly, you;ll meet people, but you'll definitely have those "oh shit, I'm alone and look/feel awkward" moments. You will develop social skills you can use later in life. But let me get this through to you: not every girl is there to fuck. That shouldn't be your goal at all.
You should go to meet people and have fun. If you're not doing either of those, find a better club. If this is your strategy, prepare for a lot of pain and disappointment, that lonely walk back from the train station at 6AM, slightly drunk but with crystal clear memory of what went right, what went wrong, and what you can't exactly figure out... the conductor wakes you up with a sharp tap to your boot... "Ticket, please", he says even though you wedged it in the seat in front of you like everyone else does so they don't have to be woken up... memories of the club come back and you ask yourself, "was it worth it?"... Dan's stupid fucking face pops into your mind, pessimism personified, he lists reasons why he would never go to a club... it comes off as condescending, the kind of attitude academics adopt as a defense mechanism... you remember grinding with that chubby girl with the pretty smile and the soft skin, you remember dancing close to those lesbians - one of them wanted to be with you, the other saw you as a threat, you made out with that girl and then she disappeared, you went out for a smoke and worked your game on some uninterested girls for a bit, you proclaimed you were having so much fun to a group of foreigners who looked like functional junkies, ahh the club, it was so much fun, it was such a good time, but nothing gained, nothing accomplished, and then you realize you're pissing your life away working at that deli instead of doing what you want with your life...

That's not a snake

AND NOW

Through the magic of MONEY
ANYTHING is possible!!

Buy something

http://www.somethingstore.com/index.html

dwbfe

hellz. yes.

I listen to everything

 besides rap and country

how I wonder

what you are

erotic and divine

Can't turn a hoe

into a housewife

Under the microscope

When I stare in a certain direction I see many things. I see people chasing a dream, running full sprint viciously. I see confident entrepreneurs who achieve and gain wealth. The ideal men and women who go into the world and claim there own. Who would rightfully argue with anyone that try’s to take some away and give it to someone who has not worked as hard as they have. I’m talking about the people whose success can be read off cloths, cars, jewelry, furniture or houses. I look at the kind of people that one would look up to, admire and respect. I stare at the men and women with integrity, and the belief that a little hard work can get you a long ways. The ones who understand in an economically free country, anything is possible if you have the right attitude and commitment. I’m talking about the honorable citizens that sit in church every Sunday and praise God for what he has given them, for how he has rewarded them, for how he has blessed them with great wealth and opportunity. I’m speaking of the ones who would instill and concrete these great beliefs into the minds of there children. So they may too lead this best kind of life. This is what I see.

Under the microscope

I see many things. I see people chasing an illusion, running frantically to gain fake things to impress fake people. I see selfish men and women who go into the world and take more than they give, who wine and bitch like little children when someone tells them they must share. I’m talking about the people who are nothing more than there cloths, cars, jewelry, furniture or houses. I look at the kind of people who should be looked down upon for admiring and respecting themselves too much. I stare at the men and women with no integrity and the false belief that hard work alone will take you far. I speak of the ones who don’t understand that anything is not possible for anyone in an economically free country, no matter how much commitment one may have. I’m talking about the hypocritical ones who sit in church every Sunday praising there God for reasons which he would despise. I’m speaking of the ones who would brain wash and mind fuck there children into believing this was the way to live and think. This is what I see.

Everything changes under the microscope, when you gaze down deeper.

Untitled by Matthew Lammers

we inhaled cold days
and coughed them out as warm smoke
we walked the path of the adventurous
we did not look to the end
only at what was around us
they say it is not the destination
but the journey that brings joy
and now that i have reached the end of this path
i long to walk that one way road a second time
i will miss it and what it has brought to me

Rosie O' Donnell or Monique

Queen Latifah or Halle Berry but she's been dead for five minutes

Good looking girl game

A great way to kill time when you're sitting around with a bunch of guys and don't have anything better to do. It is played like this:
Each person starts their turn by saying, "Super good-looking girl; great personality..." and then they have to add one flaw to this ideal girl. Then each of the other guys has to answer by saying whether or not she would consider dating such a woman.
Examples of actual questions asked by people I used to live with:

• Super good looking girl; great personality... has a hairy back.
• Super good looking girl; great personality... has only one leg.
• Super good looking girl; great personality... collects porcelain figurines.
• Super good looking girl; great personality... never lets you sit in the front of his car.
• Super good looking girol; great personality... confesses to once having sex with a barn-yard animal.

Payback is a bitch

And it's gonna bite you in the ASS.

Dead Bart

You know how Fox has a weird way of counting Simpsons episodes? They refuse to count a couple of them, making the amount of episodes inconsistent. The reason for this is a lost episode from season 1.

Finding details about this missing episode is difficult, no one who was working on the show at the time likes to talk about it. From what has been pieced together, the lost episode was written entirely by Matt Groening. During production of the first season, Matt started to act strangely. He was very quiet, seemed nervous and morbid. Mentioning this to anyone who was present results in them getting very angry, and forbidding you to ever mention it to Matt. I first heard of it at an event where David Silverman was speaking. Someone in the crowd asked about the episode, and Silverman simply left the stage, ending the presentation hours early. The episode's production number was 7G06, the title was Dead Bart. The episode labeled 7G06, Moaning Lisa, was made later and given Dead Bart's production code to hide the latter's existence.

In addition to getting angry, asking anyone who was on the show about this will cause them to do everything they can to stop you from directly communicating with Matt Groening. At a fan event, I managed to follow him after he spoke to the crowd, and eventually had a chance to talk to him alone as he was leaving the building. He didn't seem upset that I had followed him, probably expected a typical encounter with an obsessive fan. When I mentioned the lost episode though, all color drained from his face and he started trembling. When I asked him if he could tell me any details, he sounded like he was on the verge of tears. He grabbed a piece of paper, wrote something on it, and handed it to me. He begged me never to mention the episode again. The piece of paper had a website address on it, I would rather not say what it was, for reasons you'll see in a second. I entered the address into my browser, and I came to a site that was completely black, except for a line of yellow text, a download link. I clicked on it, and a file started downloading. Once the file was downloaded, my computer went crazy, it was the worst virus I had ever seen. System restore didn't work, the entire computer had to be rebooted. Before doing this though, I copied the file onto a CD. I tried to open it on my now empty computer, and as I suspected, there was an episode of The Simpsons on it.

The episode started off like any other episode, but had very poor quality animation. If you've seen the original animation for Some Enchanted Evening, it was similar, but less stable. The first act was fairly normal, but the way the characters acted was a little off. Homer seemed angrier, Marge seemed depressed, Lisa seemed anxious, Bart seemed to have genuine anger and hatred for his parents.

The episode was about the Simpsons going on a plane trip, near the end of the first act, the plane was taking off. Bart was fooling around, as you'd expect. However, as the plane was about 50 feet off the ground, Bart broke a window on the plane and was sucked out.


At the beginning of the series, Matt had an idea that the animated style of the Simpsons' world represented life, and that death turned things more realistic. This was used in this episode. The picture of Bart's corpse was barely recognizable, they took full advantage of it not having to move, and made an almost photo-realistic drawing of his dead body.

Act one ended with the shot of Bart's corpse. When act two started, Homer, Marge, and Lisa were sitting at their table, crying. The crying went on and on, it got more pained, and sounded more realistic, better acting than you would think possible. The animation started to decay even more as they cried, and you could hear murmuring in the background. The characters could barely be made out, they were stretching and blurring, they looked like deformed shadows with random bright colors thrown on them. There were faces looking in the window, flashing in and out so you were never sure what they looked like. This crying went on for all of act two.

Act three opened with a title card saying one year had passed. Homer, Marge, and Lisa were skeletally thin, and still sitting at the table. There was no sign of Maggie or the pets.

They decided to visit Bart's grave. Springfield was completely deserted, and as they walked to the cemetery the houses became more and more decrepit. They all looked abandoned. When they got to the grave, Bart's body was just lying in front of his tombstone, looking just like it did at the end of act one.

The family started crying again. Eventually they stopped, and just stared at Bart's body. The camera zoomed in on Homer's face. According to summaries, Homer tells a joke at this part, but it isn't audible in the version I saw, you can't tell what Homer is saying.

The view zoomed out as the episode came to a close. The tombstones in the background had the names of every Simpsons guest star on them. Some that no one had heard of in 1989, some that haven't been on the show yet. All of them had death dates on them. For guests who died since, like Michael Jackson and George Harrison, the dates were when they would die. The credits were completely silent, and seemed handwritten. The final image was the Simpson family on their couch, like in the intros, but all drawn in hyper realistic, lifeless style of Bart's corpse.

A thought occurred to me after seeing the episode for the first time, you could try to use the tombstones to predict the death of living Simpsons guest stars, but there's something odd about most of the ones who haven't died yet. All of their deaths are listed as the same date.

Proverbs 8:11

For wisdom is better than rubies; and all the things that may be desired are not to be compared unto her.

Generation BOSS

A growing list of favorite movies

    Amelie
    Anastasia
    Batman Begins, Dark Knight
    The Brave One
    Bridge to Terabithia
    Bourne series
    Corrina, Corrina
    Coraline
    Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
    Dummy
    The Exorcist
    El Cid (1961)
    Fantastic Mr. Fox
    The Fifth Element
    Hot Fuzz
    Juno
    Jumanji
    Kill Bill Vol. 1, Vol. 2
    The Last Unicorn
    Matilda
    The Mexican
    Misery
    Pan's Labyrinth
    Pulp Fiction
    Resident Evil
    Rushmore
    Shaun of the Dead
    Silence of the Lambs
    Silent Hill
    Skeleton Key
    Stewie Griffin: The Untold Story
    Sweeney Todd
    V for Vendetta
    Zoolander
    Iron Giant
    Y Tu Mama Tambien
    Up

say girl

lemme holla at you

The colors, Duke!

THE COLOORRS!

STRETCH out your neck

aaaaaaa-ahhhhhh!

Fuck.

For the first time in my life, everything makes too much sense. I can't be who I want to be anymore. Everything is all fine, actually, way better than fine; partying, not worrying about how the world looks at you. But unfortunately, they world has all the money, and all I have are a couple of quarters and a broken car and broken dreams and a broken heart.
So I have decided that I am going to join them. I have decided that I'm going to grow up.
God, I hate to say it, but my uncle was right: "You can't be broke and happy--not in this time period, not in this country."

It's time for another epiphany. It's time to make some major change.

My dreams are going to have to hold on for a little bit, because the real world isn't waiting on them to come true. The real world sure isn't wating for me, either. I'm actually running trying to catch up with it, like I missed a train or something. I want to stop running after it.
I want to be on that train.

4:25pm:

Realized how strange it is that we always are looking for "something to do". Riding a bike, taking a drug, going to a movie, etc...., never content to just "be" right here. Found the present moment interesting and not boring.

I pretend I don't notice.

I pretend I pretend I'm not pretending.
That nothing has happened.
That I can hear the clock still
ticking.

\ɒl de \

\'ʊrde\

That moment

when it's been raining all day and you hear it pounding on the roof of your car but then you drive under an overpass and enjoy a second-or-two-long reprieve of silence from it all.

There once was a rapping tomato

That's right, I said "rapping tomato."
He rapped all day, from April to May
And also, guess what, it was me.

Did you know...

that turtles can breathe through their butts? MMMMMMMMmmmmmmm, DICK. And if you don't knowwwww, now you knowww, NIGGUH. Vineggaaaaa... Hey, pretty lady. --> I love youuuuuuuuuu On a scale from one to David Hasselhof how drunk am I? Nooo, nooooo, meeser superman is no here...no.... In, and around my mouth (but mostly in). Sure as smoked meat!!! THE FOUNTAIN OF BUENO Pen 15 island, Menis Land. Get theeeee FUCK out. I'd like my snowcone sans bees luvvv youu~~~~~ (bear) Knock Knock -- it's your best friend, and I'll always be there for you I'M GONNA ROLL IN THE BACKSEAT LIKE THIS Let's go tanning! and then we never went tanning MEEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII Where's the Lizard Lounge wait wait wait TURN LEFT no it's a one way street agahhara HEY THERE IT IS Oh wait no no no it's oh LIZARD LOUNGE NO you missed the TURN! Datsik is siiiick KILGOROUND SO KOOL AID No I just got a copter hat actually THAT'S A LEGIT

Addendum: Jamba Juice, Freudian Panther Slips, From Paris with Herpes, He needs a Highlander, EVERY ACTS SO SERIOUS, how am I gonna show that cowboy I'm alive?

Home

Is where the heart is and where I want to be but I'm not sure I'll be able to go there now.
I hope I can.
I need to.

Well, sh--obviously

We have a ra-pist, in Lincoln Park. He's climb-in' in your windows, he's snatch-in' your people up, trynna rape 'em so y'all need to
hide your kids,
hide your wife, and
hide your husband 'cause they rapin' errbody out here.

We got your T-shirt, you don' left fingerprints and all, you are so dumb! You are really dumb! Fo real.

You don't have to come, and confess that you did it. We're lookin' for  you, we--we gon' find you, I'm lettin' you know that. So you can run and tell that.

Home boy.

I made a sandwich

Yesterday
Peanut butter and jelly
Actually two sandwiches
One used fancy jelly
Tasted the same
Oh yeah
There weren't any clean spoons or knives, so I had to use
a fork

It wasn't so bad.
Not bad at all.

Autological

short
pentasyllabic
sesquipedalian
unique

Step 6

Remember kids, it's a fuckin' drug, not a way of life. Not a fuckin' religion. A drug. Drugs are used for fun. They're super special awesome dessert for grown ups. Having this mentality is the only practical way whatsoever to use and still keep it fun and not wrack up a shitload of fuckin drama and debt.

Stay safe, be smart, go hard.

Swearing has no nobility

At the feedstore do I say, "Oh, now Wally, give me a bag of that F-in' pig feed, and a pound of that bitchly cow corn"? At the bank do I say, "Oh, Mrs. Malenger, here is one big bastard of a check, now give me some of your Christ-ing money!"

It's like triple-irony!

Except double.

la petite morte

APPLES OF THE EARTH

Sure as smoked meat

catching up

Hey, man, so youo're over a year old hahahahahahaha i'm in collage igaginagain it sucks sucks sucks is awesoome but homesicknesss sucks this summer is over man
penultimate ultimate over day day day what

Also FUCK YOU.

No, jk, see you soon.

bday durnk

my phone doesn't smell liek i have a text
do uou ever feel liek youor eyeberowos get heavy?!

an epic journey

of barefiit bigfoot proportions wtf

SNITCHES GET STITCHES

clapter

not a real word

Girls

I love girls who hate girls and only hang out with girls who only hang out with boys.

Life is easier in writing

Sloth

I love dropping things on stairs 'cause then you only have to walk down a few steps to pick it up without having to bend over

sexxx

yes ot no

There was once

this man I knew.
One day He was walking through the forest and He stumbled upon a large amount of hallucinogens and decided 'cause He was..extremely clever that he would take all those hallucinogens to see what secrets

would
unfold
to Him

but He did not realize that He was secretly allergic to happiness so He started tripping balls. And soon realized that he was turning into an octopus and he realized he could have sex with eight women at once! and He used his power of OCTOSEX to become the biggest P.I.M.P in all the ocean but...

Soon karma struck him back; karma bit him; karma is a bitch; and he soon realized that he attracted Octo-AIDS and all of his babies turned out to be crackhead Disney moviestars.


And thus Lindsay Lohan was born.

Misunderstanding

"I've been learning a lot about fairy tales lately."
"It's like a fantasy."
"Yeah..fantasies--"
"Fantasies, fairy tales..."

Proverbs 8:10-11

Take my instruction and not silver; choose knowledge rather than choicest gold,fFor wisdom is far more valuable than rubies. Nothing you desire can equal her.

Proverbs 17:22

A cheerful heart doeth good like a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones.

Sock Monkey

http://www.supersockmonkey.com/catalog/howtomake.html

thanks dood

hot damn
fuckin' shysty

i wanna kill myself

pretty muchhhhhhh

CLIFFS OF MOHER

http://www.cliffsofmoher.ie/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cliffs_of_Moher

MOUNT RORAIMA

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mount_Roraima
http://wikitravel.org/en/Mount_Roraima

Fuckin' shysty

TROLLTUNGA

http://benjamin-meyer.blogspot.com/2008/07/adventure-to-trolltunga.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trolltunga

Isaiah 60:1

Arise, shine; for thy light is come...

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Advice

It'll be alright, you know? I just want you to know that. Life goes on, this too shall pass, pale blue dot, just do it, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T0RT4nFJEFM -- whatever you have to tell yourself that things are going to be fine, do it.               
Take a deep breath
deeper
more
hold it..
and exhale.
Now repeat after me:

Everything is going to be aright.
-------
Just keep trying. What else can you do?
Don't be afraid to fail, anon. I believe in you. How does it feel knowing that some complete stranger believes in you?
How does it feel knowing that that belief is completely unfounded, utterly ridiculous, entirely irrelevant ---
but absolutely genuine?
You can do it, anon. Don't give up now.

Breathe

Brother sister, love and fire/ Once attained, both expire.
I think people forget that even fire needs to breathe, sometimes.

good names for pets

Doctor Dog
Captain Cat

Radio

I'm a full-time teacher and a part-time belly dancer...

Right as rain

Good as gold
Fit as a fiddle

EARTH

Once upon a time, there was a small, completely unremarkable planet named EARTH. This small and unremarkable planet was inhabited by even smaller, even more unremarkable animals, who were nonetheless amazing in their own ways. Animals that crawled. Animals that flew. Animals that lived inside other animals. Animals that ate other animals. Animals that did nothing else but grow and grow for thousands of years, and other animals that were born only to eat once, fuck once, and then die at the end of the day, their biological purpose fulfilled. Amazing, but altogether insignificant. This small blue planet--blue not because it burns at upwards of 45,000 degrees Fahrenheit (like some stars), but because, curiously, it was covered almost entirely by liquid water. This was curious because one of the more particularly insignificant animals on this planet was not an aquatic animal--although it had the capacity to swim, and often did so for recreation during the hotter period's of the planet's year. Additionally, this animal required water in order to sustain life, one of the few traits it had in common with its fellow animals. This animal wasn't particularly large or beautiful (although it was awfully bright), nor did it live very long. No, what made this remarkable about this otherwise insignificant animal is that it thought it was special. It thought it had a purpose. This animal like to call itself man.

Our story concerns two such men. One man was foolish, but thought himself wise. The other was wise, but thought he was foolish. Our story begins on the day these men will die.

Gyno

"Whenever my gynecologist--"
"You can stop right there."

Flash

It's not as bad as when Jr.'s grandma flashed everyone. And she only had one boob.

White folks, black coffee

We white folk like our coffee. Especially black, the blacker the better.

Memories

Do you remember the night you and Mary and Gris borrowed Super Mario World from Jessica for one night only and since we only had one night we stayed up and beat the entire game? Before even that though remember how to actually keget the Super Nintendo we got mom to buy it but so when she brought it home we cleaned up and accted supper nicceee for a super nintendo and it was the best day of my life until then? We cleaned the house all nice so we would 'deserve' it haha pretty muchhhh.

Do you remember when you were visiting dad with Mary and we saw a rotted casket in a shallow ditch? I'm glad I didn't open it.

Do you remember after your first rave -- you were with Diana at Lenee's apartment? Everyone was partaking of the marijuana but luckily Diana pulled you out and on the balcony we shared a cigarette break with the morning sun? Do you remember, really? Because it's a beautiful memory.

Do you remember hanging out with Gordon and suddenly, Suga Suga comes on and there is a part a part that goes:
Treat you like my sticky ickey or my sweet oowy goowy (fa real though)
And Gordon says, do you think he's talking about weed or a girl? And I thought a girl but he said sticky icky was kind of like slang for weed I don't really remember but we did come to the consensus that the song was referring both to weed and a girl.  

Do you remember that day you were laying on your bed and stretching and you were looking out the window past the portable a/c unit and everything; made; sense.




Do you remember when the lights went out at midnight? You had been watching Digimon episodes aaaalll day and suddenly the lights go out and you notice that the YouTube webppage layout has left a purplish afterimage in your field of vision but after you go outside you see that the moon is full, so you decide to go wake up Isa. She doesn't want to wake up.

But you wake her up anyway, and outside is fascinating.

There is a full moon and there are no lights and everything is shades of moon.

The sun is 9.3 million miles away and the moon is a mirror and it is lighting up my slice of the world. The trees, the gazebo in the middle of the neighborhood, every house along the road, the road itself illuminated in silver.


That was the night I became me.

Action

Dr. Reeves pick up her gun.

GANGSTER: You sure you know how to use that, babycheeks?

DR. REEVES: Of course I do. I'm a scientist.

Human

Bags of meat walk the earth and form strong opinions about everything. Then they stop moving one day and rot to nothing, but not before they've made a few more bags of meat to take their place. Very few of the bags of meat see this whole situation as completely bizarre, most just go along with it. Some have the audacity to get bored.

Proverbs 13:3

He that keepeth his mouth keepeth his life: but he that openeth wide his lips shall have destruction.

MyFace

Listen, after seeing one of my wife's "friends" post the pictures of their stillborn baby on Facebook the day after it came out dead, I'm not shocked at anything that shows up on MyFace.

KEYHOLE CANYON

http://www.zionnational-park.com/zion-keyhole.htm

Matthew 6:25-27

Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment? Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?

Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?

Priority

"It isn’t really important to decide when you are very young just exactly what you want to become when you grow up. It is much more important to decide on the way you want to live. If you are going to be honest with yourself and honest with your friends, if you are going to get involved in causes which are good for others, not only for yourselves, then it seems to me that that is sufficient, and maybe what you will be is only a matter of chance."
Golda Meir

I hope someone

 pours concrete in your vagina

nice

i've realized how much better it is just to be nice. so nice, so polite, so self-effacing, so earnest, so interested, so sympathetic, that people no longer want to argue with you, and your arguments turn into collaborations, turn into the both of you working to steer your discussion in a positive direction, and finally i know what it feels like to create something instead of destroying it, and it's a blast. today's daily dose of insight: build others up and you elevate yourself as well, and it feels amazing. the only true power is the power to do good.

Milton Bradley

A game for those who seek to find, a way to leave their world behind. You roll the dice to move your token, doubles gets another turn, and the first one to reach the end of the board wins.

AWW YEAH BOIIIIIIII

TITS

in middle school, i kept staring at this girls tits, she had like c's or w/e thay were rly big and once she caught me with a bonner staring and she was flattered, we went to differend high schools but we met up again at college and were still together

whoregoblin

skankgoblin
slutgoblin

Thy Kingdom Come

Thy will be done

Give thanks

I was in the grocery store the day before thanksgiving picking out something to eat (couldn't get airline tickets to go home and see my family) when I saw an old man buying some frozen dinners. It was obvious he didn't have anyone to spend the holiday with so I went over and asked him if he wanted to come over to my apartment and spend thanksgiving with me since I didn't have anyone to spend it with either.

We ended up putting all the frozen food back and buying a turkey and everything needed to have a great meal. During dinner he said his wife had died some years before and his children never called or visited him. This made me feel so sad I asked for his address so I could bring something over for Christmas. Yesterday I went over to bring a small gift I bought him but nobody answered the door.

"I went to his neighbors house to see if they could give it to him when he returned but they told me he had died a few days earlier.

see wha ha happen wus

Once upon a time

One time I walked into the cabinet with my bros and sises and found this giant ass world called Narnia and then this white queen bitch asked me if I want chocolate and I helped her even though she was an evil bitch

mer·kin, pu·den·dum

–noun

false hair for the female pudenda.

---

Origin:
1610–20; orig. uncert.

pu·den·dum

 /pyuˈdɛndəm/ Show Spelled[pyoo-den-duhm] 

–noun,plural-da  /-də/ Show Spelled[-duh] Usually, pudenda. Anatomy.

the external genital organs, esp. those of the female; vulva.

---

Origin:
1350–1400; ME < LL, special use of neut. of L pudendus, gerundive of pudēre to be ashamed

blind brother

Often on my way to school I saw two very old men, (one I believe was blind) helping each other on the transit system; they bore much resemblance and I assumed they were brothers. This made me happy. For the last two years I now only see one, making his way alone through the subway. This makes me sad.

ideal

someday i wanna date a kindergarten teacher

DAYYYYYYUUUUMMMM!

A friend

For a solitary man like myself summer is always a lonely time. Since my elementary school years, I often found myself indoors for weeks at a time during the summer: reading, playing video games, and generally avoiding the sun. When I went away for my first year of university I met plenty of people -- I had more contacts than I'd ever had, but still nobody to love. My loneliness was gone for awhile, but it was an empty satisfaction.

I went back home for the summer after my first year away. I greeted my family, reunited with my few friends in the area, and after a week was back in my old funk -- no leaving the house, no waking up before noon. Sitting on my floor at 2:00am one evening, I realized that there was only one thing I really wanted. I realized that without love, I was nothing. That I couldn't exist until I found somebody else. It seemed as though my chest was going to collapse -- I suppose, looking back, it was a panic attack. I felt an immense pressure around me, as though my loneliness would squash me like an insect and leave an empty shell on the floor. I was suddenly filled with what seemed like an infinite amount of energy -- I had to go find something, anything to keep me from being destroyed by this feeling.

I went outside and started walking. There is a park a couple of miles from my house -- the park I played at when I was a child, that I rode my bike around for hours back when my neighborhood was safe and children could walk the streets at night without fear. By the time I arrived at the park the panic was gone, and was replaced by a certain hollow despair. I was worse off than before -- now I was out alone, in the dilapidated park of a seedy neighborhood at 2:30 in the morning. When I sat down on the playground, I almost wished some thug would arrive and cut me, that someone would bring me fear and through it a reason, if only momentarily, to live. I sat with my face buried in my arms, in the dark, on the steps of some playground equipment.

I don't know how long I sat there trying to cry. After what seemed like hours of pain, a group of four black men started to pass the playground on the sidewalk out front. They were speaking, but so softly I couldn't hear them. I didn't have a phone or any way to escape if they decided to smash my face for fun.

The group stopped on the sidewalk perpendicular to me and faced me. They were strong young black men, just the sort one avoids in the wee hours of the morning on the street. One broke off from the group and approached me, stopping about five paces from me while the rest stood guard.

His voice wasn't what I expected. His words were spoken gently, softly, but with a precision that belied great intelligence.
He asked me simply, "Are you alright?"
I replied in a whisper, my voice cracking as his surprising kindness brought a tear to my eye. "Yes," I lied obviously.
He took the blunt from the corner of his mouth and passed it to me.
"Sometimes all you need is a friend," he said softly before turning and leaving with his friends.

Good touch, bad touch

A White Rose

THE red rose whispers of passion,
And the white rose breathes of love;
O the red rose is a falcon,
And the white rose is a dove.
But I send you a cream-white rosebud	5
With a flush on its petal tips;
For the love that is purest and sweetest
Has a kiss of desire on the lips.											John Boyle O'Reilly

Montaigne

language sleep dreams beasts sex

Good-bye

For now.

Book

I have a diary now, blog.

Sunset on Mars

Cilled the Cat

I have to admit that I was pretty curious.

My god is a vengeful god

holy crap gaga

what are you doing lady gaga doesn't that scare you?!!?!?!?!

Hahaha

I think it's really funny when people laugh at jokes on TV
Like when they laugh at their own jokes or other characters' jokes I mean it just makes me want to laugh with them.

Good movie

Scale

I still want to tattoo a banana eventually.

Soapfoot

Arthur

See it's about an aardvark who has all of these friends and he readss man he reads and see his last name is reading or maybe reeding whatever and his first name is Arthur the aardvark get it arthur the aardvark yeah

In Flowers

Donald duck was a douchebag

i love it

Matthew 6:28-29

Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin, and yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his majesty was not arrayed like one of these.

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
and Eternity in an hour.
-William Blake

Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies,
I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower--but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is.
-Tennyson


Shed no tear! O shed no tear!
The flower will bloom another year.
Weep no more! O weep no more!
Young buds sleep in the root's white core.
Shed no tear! O shed no tear!
The flower will bloom another year.
Adieu, adieu--I fly--adieu!
-John Keats

we think we can play with sin

Just a little. There will be something thatwe are attracted to -- people, or circumstances, perhaps. It will look attractive,we'll see it,we'll covet it, we'lltake it, andwe'll believe that just a little bit of it is all we're going to mess with; we're not going to go too far. We'll take pleasure when it pleases us, and then we'll walk away. "You shall not die," said the Serpent, "Eat of the fruit."

We think we can play with sin, just a little. Certain sins are nice, agreeable, likeable, pleasurable, acceptable, even harmless. We think we can keep sin under control, either by limiting its influence on us or our involvement in it. In reality, we fall under its control, and little by little, sin controls us. Sin masters us the moment it touches our lips.

one one two-thousand ten