Slow Old Sleepers

 I no longer fast. I'm no longer young. But, still wide awake a half hour before sunrise, I'm still as much of an insomniac as ever. That's not to say I can't ever fall asleep. That's not to say I can't ever stay asleep. Sometimes I'll sleep off and on for twelve hours, but it's usually in the daylight hours. These times of the day, when it's dark outside and the clock says a.m., have always been my periods of greatest lucidity and creativity. Songs I've crafted, websites I've built, all brain-stakingly constructed under cover of darkness in the still of the night. And here we are again, spinning yarns into the universe for you, constant reader. Over ten years since the previous time, I have found my way back again to this somehow-still-operational corner of the interwebs. I said I'd be here, and here I am. The Russians have locked me out of my LiveJournal and it looks like I'll never get back in. My last post there was 1692 days ago. Hundreds of quality transmissions still sit on that site, for as long as they decide to continue to keep them available. But, who knows? Impersonal businesses are not to be trusted. MySpace went and "accidentally" deleted all of everyone's pictures and music and who-knows-what-else. Facebook and Google have been pretty good so far about continuing to store your data for free, especially since they're making so much money off of it, but that's not likely to always be true. This is still the first time a species has ever done this.. We're still building upward and outward, but that's not to say another Dark Ages couldn't start in a hundred years or tomorrow. Maybe all the data stored all over the world could all-of-a-sudden disappear. What do you still have hard copies of? Printed words on paper, stone, or gold tablets. What's the last photograph you had printed physically? Are you satisfied with the footprints you are leaving behind, digital and otherwise? This site is here right now at least, I'm here to write, and you're here to read. I promise to be back sooner rather than later. I hope that you will too.

Junior

Junior's fat. Junior's slow. All he knows is tic-tac-toe. He wants out of all these walls. Junior dribbles basketballs. He's a rockstar inthe making; never smoking, always baking. Flirts with every girl he sees. Swings like Tarzan from the trees. One day Junior will be rich. Then he'll fix our problems, bitch.

The Lonesome Cowboy

The lonesome cowboy sits and drinks. His whisky's almost empty. He said "My name is Jesus Christ and this is why they sent me. I've come to teach the world to love, to teach them to share water. I was sent by God above to have the perfect daughter. Her hair is black, her eyes are green, her laughter is contagious. I'd take her with me everywhere and rock throughout the ages.

Punching Timeclocks Silly (Sanitarium)

They've locked me in this padded room so many fucking times. I can't remember ever feeling like I was okay. I just take my pen and paper, penning wicked rhymes and punching timeclocks silly just to get me thru the day. The meals that they feed you here will not get you excited. They're filling, sure, but they're no cure to satisfy my hunger. There was a girl once, long ago, not loose and rarely tighted. Her long black hair and green eyes I would die to be among. Her ruby lips and fingertips caress my swollen member. She holds my hand in traffic when we're running thru the night. I'd call her on her cellphone, but her digits aren't remembered. So I will sit at sunrise, baby, waiting for the light. I meditate and think of weed. You're the only girl I'll ever need.

bsted p

These are the broken keeboard blooze. These are blood reds and, not primarily, yellows. With age, comes decline, decay. Normal wear and tear. I wear my devices. Not so often on the tear. Scarcelee.

Controller

Science Channel tells you what happens. I like hearing people talk about what happened. What's happening? What are you doing? What's on your mind? I am. Do you mind? Do you mindread at will? Would you catch my dollar bill? Baby, you've been on my mind.

i'm coming.. my motorollatthTTTTtTtTt4&Gth

the shift key is busted on this relic. not quite a remington quiet-riter ten, but at this size, who can complain? if i hade this device sixteen years ago.sorry. i am sadast. this device works not well here. i need to trim my nails. i need to take a shower. curse my metal body.