If you bring the fire, I'll bring the heat.

I'm not really liking how the current job market is like last call on a Monday night. I got a call today where the hiring guy sounded like he was trying to convince me to go to Prom with him. "You..., you are a bit over qualified"... Me, "Well, I would like the opportunity to work with you, as I can read and thus understand the alphabet." Him: "Do you think you would like working here" Me: (privately, who the hell cares if I like it, I want to go somewhere other than the mailbox to check my Netflix." I want this to be the decade of no pajamas outdoors.

I remember when we used to bump coke and listen to your I-pod well past the wee hours of the morning. Tweaking in the only gay club in town, smoking two for one cigarettes and getting drunk before we got there in your car. Yeah, it was our playground. The different groups we assembled like the lines in the bathroom and gone just as quickly. I have recently got in touch with our old dealers, users, friends I guess you could call them. His acrylic nails and gelled up hair, my tranny couple neighbors who loved Ruby Tuesday and double entendres, my military roommates with their guns upstairs and our felonies downstairs, all the people who hooked up on that couch, sake bombers, driving two states to gamble and drink, watching the middle aged, middle class charade unravel, finding new ways to be different, Barnes and Noble parking lot and Starbucks ideology. There were funerals. There were things we may never admit but always regret. The erosion of sense as the drugs had kicked, you could pinpoint the moment in our lives when the therapist would cash in. Against the Wind as a soundtrack to our youth that was now miles away.There was some college in there, some shitty jobs. You were pretty constant.

The past days have brought upon a powerful wave of nostalgia. As I type this, I am listening to Oasis' What's the Story Morning Glory. Go figure. I keep thinking about you. And I keep thinking about happiness, in all its fleeting forms. Roman had a bucket on his earlier singing a song while covered in Mac'N Cheese. I suppose these are things. We are present for few events, we get to choose even less. Sometimes a kind word and a forwarded video are going to be the highlights. Things will never be the same and everything ends. I guess it wouldnt kill me to pretend I'm having a good time. Because I do love you. I know what that feels like. And I am meeting new people to these jokes to.

I told you I love you today because I wanted you to know. We have known each other too long for it not to have come up. I am excited about the future, a little bit I guess because in the end we all are pop junkies. Endings, happy or otherwise indicate a story that was told. No better time to start than now.

Memory Lane is a Cul de Sac

A line drawn together of the one, eye and coke variety.
Someone who doesn't distinguish fame from notoriety.

I don't want someone to sweep me off my feet, or to open a door
I just want someone to keep a beat, show me what I'm for.
Claiming truth and entertainment are the same thing
Maybe if your glasses are showing you the fame thing
Flashing lights of arrest or adoration
Shaman priests and a cult of intention
All we want is the heartfelt intervention
To do it up and to take it back in the case of the ascension
Being bored, floored, drilled,
Whored, grilled, thrilled
The flesh is the meat, the wordplay the evolution
The puns are the proof of the state wide institution
The more you expose me, the more foundation you get
A landmark or a theme park
They are still charging at the gate
All this authenticity wrapped in shiny plastic
The meaning disappears as soon as you grasped it

Manners

Futuristic nostalgia, it's going to be big. Pop stars can't ever top Roman emperors crucifixion/orgies/vomitoriums vs Blood/glitter/ringtone.

An astronomer in a black hole. A lifevest in a sunken ship. A clean suit on a corpse. A birthday cake in a retirement home. Standing around waiting for that hasn't happened yet. The living pray to the long dead stars, sustained by the faith we found in waiting rooms and bars. Killed myself and sold the rights, I'm epic now I'm told. The past will always be the present, because we remain constant in our shock. This retro glam coffin blasting us to Planet Tool, the underground made visible, the exception to the rule. The human condition was epoch when it's old. The countdown started halfway through the show, the fisherman on top of the water watched the undertow. This intermission until the finale, well that's where we'll be, nothing more than playbills and popcorn boxes in the grand scheme.

If you have ever sat on a beach in the quiet dark, felt the scope with the silence, you know that the in between is the best it gets. It depends on your venue, but your song is irrelevant.

A line on hotel Bible, getting you through the day. A hook in your head, a soundtrack for your stay.

Amy Winehouse is Still My Spirit Animal

Fuck Yes! @ Chelsea Lately, Parenthood, Youth in Revolt, Yeasayer
What the Fuck @ Fast food restaurants trying to get you to buy their shitty products by announcing how much they used to suck and begging you to come back. America's relationship with food is fucked up enough, we don't need to add beer battered wife syndrome to (Domino's New Unshitty Pizza, McDonald's Mystery Now We Are White Nuggets, Hardee's Spicy Anal Bleed Burger? It's six kinds of sick, and here for a limited time only. )

The pool outside is frozen over. There is a Natural Light can in the ice like a tiny glacier, which makes me think of that Left Behind book series.
"She is not a crackwhore. She is a millionaire who made questionable decisions and great music. Like most bitches. I love her.....I'd take her just the way she is, crotch rot and track marks and all. Haha write my marriage vows for me. Oh, I definately will.

How apropos is it I have a heart to heart with my sister in a laundromat? Even after telling my sister her hooker name would be the Butcher, because she charges by the pound and all tasteless roast beef jokes.

Laughter is the best medicine, that's why I love to go to the ER without insurance, so funny.

Last but not least, the thrilling conclusion to my encounter with the hot sorority girl off her meds at Waffle House!

I am a good Samaritan. Although I cannot recollect the rest of that story and am far too lazy to Wikipedia selections from "the Bible", here are some more texts from that crazy girl I met before Christmas. Good news, she lives in the Ville. I smell romance, and fun stories for the kids about what "being off meds" can entail. Enjoy.

{I'm so much better thank you! I was literally crazy because I was off my meds, thank you for being my Christmas angel! I seriously wondered if you had been a delusion or a real angel until your text (you're in my phone as Erin Waffle Angel lol)
Yes! Back and better than ever. I'm still recovering from telling this guy all my delusions, but there are plenty of fish in the sea right?}

I would love to be dramatically reenacted on the Hallmark Channel, I think Janeane Garoflo is still looking for work....

I am totally going to hang out with her the next time I am in Gainesville (to the tune of reunited and it feels so good).

Yours in Christ,

Oh Yeah, The List

Dont think that's not in the rotation. So here are my Top 10 Songs of the Year Previous To This One. To Radiohead's new album!


1. All Packed Up- Idiot Glee
2. Lisztomania - Phoenix
3. Solitude - Girls
4. Sleep All Summer - The National/St.Vincent
5. Unknown - Kurt Vile
6. Suicide - The Raveonettes
7. Favorite Song - KaiserCartel
8. Hearing Damage - Thom Yorke
9. Hi-Fi Goon - Throw Me the Statue
10. At The Bottom of the Sea - The Thermals

Thanks to Glee for providing hours of entertainment, and special thanks to Kristen Chenowith's "Maybe this Time"

Dark Was The Night, Twilight, and already I have forgotten the year. All those comps for the people who died, died.

Optimism or Entitlement

If you like spray tan hookers and greasy shiny Guidos, then this is your Valhalla. You earned it.
In the course of a day, I say all kinds of funny things. It's like, yeah, I'm fucking hilarious and edgy and culture(d) like penicillin, so why are daily human interactions and personal relationships so difficult and complicated for me ... Like many of my fellow Gen 2K(Too Large)ers, I'm better on the internet. It's not so much the grass is greener or the air is cleaner, your bullshit as fertilizer, to my pesticide humor and graveyard sensibilities.
They say blood is thicker than water, which is fine unless you are a part of the royal family. Hemophilia will kill you.
When you orgasm, does nacho cheese get stuck in your mustache?
If real men love Jesus, everyone else loves anal sex. For real, I am making t-shirts that say Marriage is for Faggots/Dykes whichever and want to make some sweet money while making a statement. The American Wetdream. "I want one. Can I have it in vagina pink? kthx" Well, whose vagina...
I have always felt that being filled with the Christmas Spirit, or Christ's love means either: having inappropriate sexual thoughts about religious(imaginary) figures, a precursor to a DUI/Court TV debut. I wasn't born cynical, but I did grow into it.
"with a fistful of pills and jokes that ride the laugh to keep from crying line all the way to the jail cell?
bitch just called me to tell me he bought press on nails to feel like a diva
ghetto diva maybe
shit. mother fucker eating mayo sandwiches and wearing 100 dollar cologne
goddamn ghetto, bars on the windows, rims on the cars
babies on welfare, mommas in bars

"stuck in a nether world of sublime understanding about the ordinary bullshit of life and the depression one feels as they fully become an adult." Thank you.

If you dont die laughing, what a fucking waste

Reminding you: We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.

you turned my bedroom into a graveyard/cold air&stone numbers so far/you are already dead to me/had such fun writing the eulogy

I like writing lyrics for music I can't hear. I like how you turn a sentiment into a genre into a trash can in a matter of chords. I am all performance value.

Fucking scalpers are ruining my year. BULLSHIT.