Hall of the Monkey King

so here are some embarassing moments in my life. when i was in college i had what some would call "really long fucking hair". it reached, at one point to about an inch above my knees. it was a bright and sunny day, music was trying desperately to blare through the static in my car. my money situtation was virtually non-existent. i lived by bartering nothing for free stuff at stores. (for some reason i was good at this). having no money resulted in having no air-conditioning. my father, being the cheap bastard he was, sold me his car sans everything. no tape-deck, no lighter, no AC....hell, if he could have saved a couple of bucks he would have opted for no rear-view mirror. point being, my air-conditioner was the rush of hot air breathed into my face from rolling down the window. now if you've ever had hair you know that air coming into the car will generally make a mess of your head. some girls i knew spent an enormous amount of hairspray and time to get their hair just ...

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earlier on this week i mentioned that i liked nothing more than waiting for plumbers. apparently i lied. forgive me though, i wasn't aware of it at the time. today i experienced something that opened my eyes (metaphorically, because in reality i had them shut tight to hide the truth they held from the one administering the pain.) that's right. pain. as a child my parents would subject me to a variety of punishments for things they thought i had done. one of these punishments consisted of strapping me to a chair and having a stranger gauge flesh from my mouth. this administer of torture was only slightly more evolved than a barbarian . however, large sums of money passed hands, which he must have utilized for the purpose of furthering his education in the ' art ' of vivisection. as a young child i vowed that someday i would return and kill this demon . the enamel was strong but , whenever i went to the dentist i would inevitably spit out pints of blood. and in return...

you know what i like more than that (read below) ? waiting for his sorry ass again!! and if i see any ass crack on this guy if and when he does show, you may read about me in the papers tomorrow!!

there's nothing i like more than sitting around on my day off waiting for a theoretical plumber. with no water with which to cleanse myself. do dog's have taste buds? cuz i don't think i could lick myself clean, were i that flexible.

so as i was typing up that last post (below), i had some memories that i thought i'd share. we'll begin this story with my friend B. Aside from her sweater stretching breasts, she was an extremely attractive girl that used to loiter around during band practice yelling encouraging things about our discouraging music. every so often she would throw parties at her house. little parties, not much more than a gathering really. i met her mom several times and never really thought much about her playing with my hair (a lot of people did that). i'll return to this later. the house they lived in was haunted. and although B's mom M was the only one who ever saw it, noone doubted it at all. M wouldn't talk about it but B explained to me. once her family had left on a vacation, M was the only one who stayed home. one night she was awoken (awakened?) to find, staring at her through the bars at the foot of her bed, a young girl with tubes coming out of her nose. freaking ...

ok, those of you of a purer ilk may want to read this with a blindfold on. not that there's really gonna be anything worth censoring though. for most of my life i've been the guy who's kind of oblivious to the attentions of the ladies. i figure it out eventually but....well...you know. also in regards to my life with the opposite sex, it's always been a little .... weird . examples then, in high school, pretty much every girl my closest friend went out with had either hooked up with me or tried to. the first, well, one day the three of us were hanging out on her bed in her room. before i realized it she was tickling my tonsils with her tongue. on the way home i asked him if it bothered him. he said no, sooooo..... i wasn't seeing anyone at the time. light petting led to heavy petting led to....well one day she came right out and said it, she wanted some rotisserie action. i declined on grounds of 'i'm just not that good friends with you bub'. later on ...

if i may be permitted i would like to dip into the psychic whirlpool again and splash you with it's effluence. it says here in good ole Soren's diabolical treatise, "The self is a relation that relates itself to itself or is the relation's relating itself to itself in the relation; the self is not the relation but is the relation's relating itself to itself." he strengthens this argument with, "In the relation between two, the relation is the third as a negative unity, and the two relate to the relation and in the relation to the relation; thus under the qualifications of the psychical the relation between the psychical and the physical is a relation. If, however, the relation relates itself to itself, this relation is the positive third, and this is the self." further more "If the relation that relates itself to itself has been established by another, then the relation is indeed the third, but this relation, the third, is yet again a r...

for this past christmas i got, as a gift, a jar of 'slime' that had a pair of eyeballs, some teeth and a severed finger floating about in it. it claimed to glow in the dark. i'm a sucker for glow in the dark. reality, however proved that it in fact didn't glow, in fact there's only a small clump of discolored snot at the bottom of the jar that glows. i feel.....disenchanted. also, i don't actually recall there being monster guts in Van Helsing, but then i might have been staring at the floor cuz that was a little more interesting. not even kate could save that for me. "where dead men walk, they speak in tongues of angels."

will someone please go back in time and slap mr soren kierkegaard upside the head? what nerve to go and use a sentence, such as the following, in not only his book but is in fact within the very first paragraph of the preface of said book, while speaking in circles, obfuscates the issue and also denigrates the value of language as a tool for communication. and here it is..."It is precisely Christianity's relation to life (in contrast to a scholarly distance from life) or the ethical aspect of Christianity that is upbuilding, and the mode of presentation, however rigorous it may be otherwise, is completely different, qualitatively different, from the kind of scienticity and scholarliness that is "indifferent," whose lofty heroism is so far, Christianly, from being heroism that, Christianly, it is a kind of inhuman curiousity." what a prick! i'll bet the whole stinkin' book reeks of this nonsense. and i'm just the kind of jerk that's gonna go ahead...

today i had a discussion with a friend of mine that started with my distaste for politics with him responding that if it weren't for US politics he wouldn't exist. "how do you mean?" says i. he went on to explain about his grandparents not meeting and so forth. now the statement rang wrong in my head and it wasn't until afterwards that i figured out why. but i went ahead and disputed his claim on principle. me: "how can you make such a definitive statement based on an intangible unreality?" he tells me "there's a million in one chance for all the elements to come together and form who it is i am." "that's true, but who's to say that if things had gone differently in the past the possibility doesn't exist that while those events didn't happen others could have happened that resulted in the same outcome." "every thing that happens effects everything else. so there is no possible way that i, who i am, could ex...

i wonder sometimes how much a thought goes towards 21 grams. a minute fraction of a milligram would be my guess. it's just that sometimes there are so many my head feels weighty and it begins to drag upon the floor as i walk. when they begin interlacing, folding in upon each other, i start to worry. more towards wadding than dovetailing, and the truth is that i'm a bit of a paranoiac. a part of me hopes there is something in my genetics that makes me this way. an explanation. an excuse. reason away the horrors i bestow upon myself. pacify the shame. i keep returning to the medical fixin's bar while various doctors give me various answers, and not all of them coincide. oh the smorgasbord of different colored and shaped pills and until this recent combination none of them were satisfactory. those of you who know me on a personal level can probably attest to the difference. so here i am, just outside the ebon shroud. the problem is this.....i see things now. ...

the gods hate me. how do i know? they left a chair in the center of my kitchen in the dark for me to walk nut first into.

newsclippings that's a lot of parasites she removed a testicle for lack of sex chemical warfare gangs of masturbators she glued her eyes shut games blue balls /red balls you're drunk and you need to get home hungry hungry hippos shoot each other with arrows spank the monkey canyon glider tontie!! quizzes which muppet are you (i'm gonzo) dog toy or marital aid bananaphone original banana phone badger phone banana phone can kill videos angry squirrel flash pentagon conspiracy video the coolest breakdancing tranformers ever! salad fingers (check out the fat-pie link to the right) art weird art with Mr. T pencil art (this is intense) crazy origami sex two penii (i wouldn't look at anything else on this site though) girls get blue balls . how to use a vagina how to overcome masturbation (filthy habit.....really.....) erotic earth his girlfriend is a mannequin and she's a dirty whore how to be a hooker something's not quite right....count the hands shy...

it's been several weeks now since i've had nicotine in my system. i can feel the body deteriorating as the structure collapses with lacking. approximately two decades have passed since i started the tar/lung amalgamation project and now my breathing sacs are crying drippy tears of loss which i am launching from my body at remarkable speeds. also...i'm running out of vices. rife with coincidences, my life is. just the other night i uploaded a song called "Barry 7's Contraption" by Add N To (X) . now...i've not met anyone who's even heard of this group and yet, the recipient of my music just happened to be listening to that song. what are the odds? the other day, when i got the 'sign of the beast' via dave thomas...i encountered that number no less than 4 times that day. the two on the receipt, one was a dvd title that can only be watched in south america and once more on one of my newly owned episodes of Millenium . this episode also mentioned ...

you know, it's not as if i don't like dance music, (check out the links for Amon Tobin and Crystal Method on the right) but there is at least one form of techno that i cannot stand. it makes my brain hemorrage. so of course this is the one that i am constantly subjected to. imagine if you will, a constant bass hit on the 1, 2, 3, and 4. repeat. repeat. repeat. repeat. repeat. repeat. ok you get it. now add to this some awful line like....'a little bit louder' in a speak and spell voice or something. now repeat that. mix this brilliance together into a 286 min long masterpiece with alternating between 'a little bit louder' and no voice at all. now, feel the wrinkles on your brain smoothing out, and fluid escaping from your domepiece. now go out and get some neon glowsticks! since we're on the subject of techno, when i was at Woodstock '94 i went and checked out the 'rave' they had there. i think Orb was playing, and Orbital and Dee-lite. while...

i've always had suspicions.....

i'm not sure but i think these are directions on how to make a womb out of yarn. warning.... nudity ....but so.........mesmerizing in case you have a pair of....well.... cocks ....now you'll know what to do with them. look at these tricked out cars .....unbelievable. but this is what i want....someone get me one of these.....i'm serious....i'll be your best friend. ok...umm....a thorax cake . also...there's a zombie cake at the bottom. and really, somebody get one of those things for me. how cool would i be rollin up in one of them.

here are pics of Bill's car post tree. my car isn't pictured here cuz it could move and since more tree was falling....i moved it. but it was two feet behind theirs. btw, is that thing centered now?

having just told you about the tree incident , my first car accident , how i ruined christmas "for Everyone" and my car getting totalled in a hit and run accident, i thought i might run down the awful automotive history of my life. car #1 after that first incident i purchased my dad's old car a plymouth colt. this vehicle lasted me a year or two. in that time i launched it onto some railroad tracks where it was stuck for about 3 hours. i had been in a fight with (we'll call her Pam) over some drinking issues she had * and well.....i had 20¢ so i walked to the payphone and made the one call that managed to save my sorry yellow ass. the death of this car came in the form of hick from pennsylvania. she was driving this enormous vehicle. in fact she drove this enormous vehicle through mine. i was actually slammed over the median into oncoming traffic. after instinctively pulling over to the other side of the highway, i got out and walked through traffic to see ...