| babez |
[Jan. 31st, 2008|01:22 pm] |
last night i cut my hair, naked. i stared at my dick far too much. |
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| inertia |
[Jan. 22nd, 2008|09:56 pm] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | brooklyn | ] |
| [ | mood |
| | artistic | ] |
| [ | music |
| | dntel and conor oberst | ] |
i feel it.
i'm set in. life is rolling, finally. ensued animal beans. i'd love to eat a whale, but not really, because sea life is neato.
new york, show me the ropes.
i'm waiting on a desk to begin the life.
amen. |
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| earth bound. |
[Jan. 20th, 2008|07:58 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  anxious | ] |
| [ | music |
| | packers game, courtesy:drew | ] |
hello.
i have landed.
i am here.
in nyc. i love life, currently. i'm in shambles, however, because i cannot locate the number of a dear that i met. this is causing stress, mass stress unto me.
i can only hope i find the truth soon.
otherwise, life is great, cold, but great.
i hope to approach my music encounters soon. |
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| ass pwnz |
[Dec. 24th, 2007|11:40 pm] |
a deadly eve, i write from the depths of dad's day office. at night he sleeps with a twinge in his spine. the poor man, preoccupied with my well-being and the surface, he devotes his best efforts guiding me in the wind. a preoccupied cry within a preoccupied mind.
this eve follows suit with the past trilogy of my life. a hazed realm some say the artists endure daily. nothing is everything, and vice; an era of many unanswered questions, many tense REM cycles and reality within the spectra of falsities and surrealism. a real kick ass two thumbs up tom cruise feature dick.
life is quaint. driving, the needed be circumspect operation, yields great time to think of its peculiarities. your hands are at the wheel, your eyes at the road, yet your mind in the past, present and future. colliding cars amongst concrete crossroads are not of concern. pull a left and stay focused for the 3 second task. often, dad calls.
drive down a familiar avenue, think of the past few times you've done so, and done so. rear view check a grimace to help you know yourself, but rehearse the smile to help hide the thought of death.
just tell dad that everything is okay, and hope that it will be. save him the mmHg. |
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| times... |
[Dec. 20th, 2007|11:45 pm] |
the end is near.
i must pack my soul and belongings with precision.
i leave the 9th. |
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|
| events |
[Nov. 1st, 2007|09:08 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | assplay | ] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | apt 213 | ] |
| [ | mood |
| |  i ate 2 snickers in a row | ] |
| [ | music |
| | a deadly cab for a bitch named cutie | ] |
i'm glad i can use this journal differently from its past uses. i admit, i was an emo gay fuck who cried about his ex. damn the man and his thunder.
thunder clouds. everywhere today. a hurricane that was merely a front, in both ways.
why you front'n?
two days off in a row. in celebration i ate 2 snickers in a row despite my healthy disposition. i return to the shoe selling task force tomorrow, bright and early.
the past days of off have been spent achieving successes. for the betterment of the move. the big move. the... move. indeed.
the last day at studioville was the day of the scared and the dead. the night of the dark souls. the night of holloween. the night of my assumed birth date. i was, however, born 3 weeks later on nov 21 lane. which is approaching as fast as a nigger on rollerskates. i shall get... effed up, as they say. back to the topic; the studio was fully emptied, and it was a sad process. i feel the only reasonable time to use the word 'emptied' is when speaking of nigaz who dispensed all available cartridges of a 9mm into one other niga.
well, the warehouse/studio is gone. currently i'm working on my repacking b/c initially i packed nonsense that i knew would only be thrown away during a future repack. funny how i have to fool myself into things already knowing its outcome. THANGZZZZ. i got got some thangz. THANGZ baby, i got thangz, for $3.95 girl, for $3.95. it's my new R&B song. droppin it on septembah 19th. on death by goatz records. the sub of death by trout.
so i'm repacking. essentially i want to go to ny with my mattress, my studio rig, a pen, some paper, and all my kitchenware. i'm working on minimizing my disgusting, shameful materialistic needs.
american beauty is on. diegus maximus-idiot is watching. lifelessly. he watches an feels, but he has no life, thus the above. a 'lifeless' with a kick. thangz.com
conclusion.
whole wheat pasta is wonderful. and olive oil, or evoo, is a rad sonofa babe from hell. the good hell. i think i'll buy an eggplant tomorrow.
i wish witty chips were in existence. the kind that'd make you more witty. i'd feed them to my dog.
i need, i NEED, i NEED to finish my album. |
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|
| as of today |
[Oct. 20th, 2007|07:08 am] |
death death death.
riot riot riot.
hunger.
sleepless.
idiot on the brink of a physical, mental crash.
if i had a choice, or rather: if i were a dude with infinite everything of the universe, there'd be some rice in my mouth to munch on indefinitely.
i am a fool like many others.
way too ma......WAY too many commitments. it's hazardous upon my esque, upon my attitude, b/c i fall short of committing them. every time.
from hell.
making lists is a like a helper with feet. but some feet are ugly, some feet are lazy, and most feet have hair. a list is only as strong as its follower, shamefully.
the sun is a 'comin, i write that in fear of it. here's to another day of priming failure towards the circadian rhythm. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 13th, 2007|08:04 am] |
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i don't know who wins, me or me. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 29th, 2006|01:56 pm] |
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i realized today that adam baumel is possibly the ugliest human being on this planet. sorry adam baumel, but the truth hurts. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 11th, 2006|09:58 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  fuck fuck fuck | ] |
here we fucking go again. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 31st, 2005|01:13 pm] |
your chance too late.
'the damage has been done',
is what I say,
'so go ahead and run.' |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 17th, 2005|06:23 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  tired | ] |
| [ | music |
| | jackson's cat scratching his wall. thus catscratch, our new. | ] |
wow, a month and no posts. a record i believe.
everything is falling apart, or together but away. and this doesn't make any sense. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 16th, 2005|10:19 pm] |
i feel crumy.
thanks. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 16th, 2005|09:12 pm] |
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it's so fucking hard to get a credit card. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 16th, 2005|08:38 pm] |
it's all happening.
jackson is buying a REAL DEAL guitar, and we're starting to progress to get ready for the ultimateness of TOURING!!!!!!
it will happen. mark my words. i will tour. i have to. i feel like i'm wasting time if i'm not playing a song to people at the moment where ever i am.
i miss playing shows soo freeking much, it's sicko.
hell yes mothers. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 15th, 2005|06:13 pm] |
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i want to get signed. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 12th, 2005|10:16 am] |
well, so far i've been up for 28 hours.
holy wowness do i feel weird.
it's sort of high like.
this is awesome.
chris jackson is a bonified redneck. the past 12 hours can prove it. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 11th, 2005|10:36 pm] |
i wish people wouldn't sell out, b/c now i feel lamer than before. and now it's really bad.
damn sellouts go to hell.
i hate the world. why can't it flip, instead of spin.
so gay.
i am LAME. |
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dannyrico's journal
death cold