It Hoits When I Pee

Saw "The Hurt Locker" last night. Wow... just, wow! The most visceral movie I've seen in a while.




My only complaint is that there weren't enough hurt lockers. I actually counted zero hurt lockers throughout the entire film.

I mean, come on! This guy needs work...

Erik Threatens All Comers - New Year's 2010

Rise up against the tyranny of restraint!

Thunder Spook Juice

True story time!


I went to a loft show/party last night called Go Folk Yourself. It was less of a show and more like an uncomfortable smoky speakeasy in a building situated 20 feet away from a gas station. The performers had nice guitars and courage, but couldn't sing for shit. I tuned them out and struck up a conversation with a weird loner girl. Her hair was greasy, dyed red, and chopped all over the place. I noticed a picture button on her filthy satchel and asked her what it was.

She said, "That's the Hindu god, Ganesh."





There's a woman on the button as well. I ask about her and who she's supposed to be. She answers, "Oh, that's Ganesh's mother."

I respond, "A woman giving birth to an elephant? That doesn't happen too much these days."

She asks me what I mean, and I reply, "The way I understand it, with the world as it is now, it's impossible for a woman to give birth to an elephant god. No way. Not happening."

And she says, "Well, maybe you're limiting the way you experience life."





After she said that, I got scared and wanted to run away so I never had to talk to her again, but that would have been a breach of etiquette, so I hung in there. Who am I to violate the sanctity of human interaction?

She stared at me and I went silent. Her big fuckin' crazy eyes were burning a hole through my head. This went on for a minute and then I saw her lips move as she said something. I asked her to repeat what she said because I couldn't hear with all the music going.

She looks at my forehead and says, "Do you have any change?"

I say, "What?"

"I need some money for the bus. Can you give me a nickel?"

I reply, "No. I don't carry change around. I don't like the weight of it in my pockets."

What I wanted to say was, "Fuck you, shitty idiot!" And I wanted her face to melt away, revealing some intergalactic bird head. I'd like her to sprout wings and fly out the window like a psycho buzzard. I really wanted some supreme moment to occur.

But she just awkwardly shuffled away from where we were standing. And I couldn't have been more relieved.

Because of Loopy Feelings, Brainless Ramblings

Late last night, I took a look at some of the stuff I had written over the summer. Most of it was written in August, when I tried to reform my sleep schedule by getting up at 9am everyday. I should have known how hard it was going to be, and I've never had a lot of faith in my ability to change without external motivation anyway. And the reward for getting my sleeping habits on track was this: an optimistic mood that I might feel. That's a vague and stupid reward. Plus, trying to change behavioral patterns is an awful idea for a person who prides himself on never deviating from a personal code of arbitrary limitations. And staying up all night is really fun.

So, I got up at 9 everyday, but I also went to sleep at 5am every night. Altering your sleep schedule doesn't work if you're not sleeping very much. It just leads to brain ghosts and foggy journeys of low grade suffering.

Tension and mental unrest were my companions. I felt dizzy all the time, a nervous breakdown wasn't entirely out of the question, and I had intense cravings for hoisin sauce.

It turned into a horrible failure of a time, filled with panic attacks that eventually lead me to seek therapy - but that's another story.

Here are some slightly edited paragraphs and poems written during that period. Slightly edited because the raw material scared the Polish right out of my DNA...



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boom boom!
bath house poundings
bam bam!
human growth in a foul place





Poltergeists threw up inside my van. My van is your van. Poody poody hoo! Do as I say! I will ruin you! Suck my cocks! Do you suck dicks? Do. You. Suck. Dicks?

Farts smell bad. She gots lots o’ cousins. Can I have some pills, please?

Sylvester has a ball containing the meat of splendor. What fury it must arouse!





Heed this: Once the destruction starts and the lumber crumbles, it will be easier to find a mate who is more afraid of the end than you. Calm that person and take them underground where the sun is collected through stories and rumors.


Gun black glistening night.
Satisfied smoke.
Is sister alright?
No.
Sister is dead.
Long live the smoke from
father's gun.





Shit, I gotta go, man. I just microwaved my Sega.