I wonder what is more important to a band like The All American Rejects, artistic integrity, or who has the �funniest� rock shirt. I thought irony was dead at this point. I�ve not been afraid to admit I like Sammy Hagar, or Yes�whatever. I fucking hang with people who like the band America, I can�t have that shitty of a taste in music.

I dated a girl for a year who drove a Pacer. I did not have sexual intercourse for a year.

Saw the film The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen tonight, which needless to say was not very extraordinary at all. A woman behind talked and talked throughout. I think I am going to start bringing pepper spray with me to movie theatres. I will give them the one warning and say �You need to be quiet now, or I will take your vision away briefly�. If they don�t heed the warning, or make a wise remark to my first crack, the contents of the can are emptied into their face. My other idea was perhaps a plastic bag, and move behind the culprit and suffocate them in the movie theatre. I wonder why there are not many movie theatre serial killers. Seems like the perfect place to kill someone.

Oh, it was sunny out today. Sleeping is comfortable though.

here is the informtantino your requestede

Hwn my cock grows large, Kevin Bacon will no longer exist!

()()()()()(

I have the cookout to go to tonight. I have the carwash to go to. I have the pu- I meant that I have some errands to do. I don�t have errands, and I rarely think independently, as I feel being a YES MAN is easier on the mouth. They should learn to be quiet. They should learn manners and they should learn how to not play games. I unfortunately know of many architects. I know of many really bad architects. They build things that always seem to fall apart. They build things without using logic. They attempt to go one larger than everyone else, and it turns out horrid. I know many men and women who work with clay. I know the sculptors. I know of the things they try to mold to fit. I haven�t played a good head game in a long, long time. I wonder from time to time why I even bother. I wonder why I pick things apart like a homeless man eats a chicken leg. I can imagine the screenplays they�ve all written down on barroom tables, and car seats over the years. I can imagine the paintings and the buildings all spit out and given my personality. Why people have so many enemies is beyond my comprehension. I would say 99.97% of my colleagues all have said �I love you�, and then years down the line referred to that person as someone they now hate. This generally means that the person lied when they said �I love you�. There is no possible way for me to go from one extreme to the other like that. That reeks of immaturity and selfishness. Unfortunately, none of them think like that, as they have all faded from my existence at this point. �I will always be there for you, even though we�re not together�. Right. How big of a cock? They�re all married now. They�re all fucking different men and women around the world, around the country, there are vaginas I was once familiar with, there are eyes I was familiar with, there are laughs I spent hours with, there are hands I memorized doing the same thing. Over and fucking over and fucking over and fucking over again. How monotonous. How tired. It�s like going to work every morning, the relationships back in the day. A whole lot of give, and whole lot of take, for an ultimate payout, owning a bunch of Bukowski books, and thinking that is the answer, and then being sadly mistaken. You actually mean

-wot I mean wiat, I mean wait, I fall aslpee at hotkeyboard, sweat, pant, and need to hit the bed. The celing fan has enjoyed lulling me to sleep lately. The cool New England breeze has blown on me night after night, there is no fucking way I would ever leave this place. Now, if we could please have some snow, and bitter cold again. I am sick of men with golden tans and tanktops, and teenage girls in tight hot pants, and ice cream trucks, and blockbuster movies filled with acne and algebra, and the top is down yo! Let�s take a ride down to Atlantic City, I feel like gambling.

Dear Diary,

I think I fucked Tom Hanks last night.

before & after