fuck!!!!

fuckin non profits

the unbearable automaticity of being awesome

ah, the simple pleasures in life. the horrible person i deal with everyday called in sick today. i rejoiced. and then i was given a fulfilling task. not a bad day at work. told some dude the sky was falling.
last night as i sat home alone working on the painting, the door swung open, and my landlord stood in the hallway. i greeted him, while making a quick mental checklist of possible afronts that might bring him into the place without warning. the music was pretty low volume, the rent had been paid, the laundry room door had been locked... what the hell?
"what's goin' on there, brian?" i asked over my shoulder, still perched on the back of a dining room chair. he stood there staring at me blankly. then he walked over to me and began rubbing my back with his right hand. he was smiling. i had a smile on my face, but my armpits began to itch terribly. and then i smelled it: the sweet stench of booze.
"i got drunk." he slurred, with a whimsical influx on the word 'drunk'.
"sweet dude." i replied, cautiously slinking away from his over-affectionate fondle paw. needless to say this shit was AAWWWKWAARD! i mean, this guy is my landlord, and in over a year we've exchanged but a few words, usually regarding noise, kicking bremmer out, and other landlord/tenant business.
he ambled around the place for a few minutes, muttering things like "let's have fun" and "i don't know" and "i got drunk". he stood in the kitchen for a few minutes. i offered him a cigarette, even though i know he don't smoke none. but shit, what else am i gonna do, right?
eventually he left, falling on the stairs a bit. as i slunk down the stairs to re-lock the door, i chuckled, seeing as he has a fucking key so what's the difference...
so that happened. i wonder what he'll have to say for himself today. if his shame is great enough, i'm going to ask him if i can borrow fifty bucks.

ok maybe only just the one thing

it's cold out now, and no more moped.
i'm broke, and no more booze.
i've had it with these stupid women, too.
i hate my job.
i want old people to fall down.
i want young people to shut up.

i just got roped in to drawing about 75 album covers for a friend whose music i'm relatively indifferent to. i think it'll be good practice, though. the mulligans painting has sat unfinished for a while, and i am feeling good about finishing it this week. the thing is fuckin' huge. 4x4, nugga. i'm signed up for this sort asinine art contest involving pabst blue ribbon. all submissions become property of the brewery, and i think maybe you can win... uh... beer?

and now it's time to change everything

i will now change everything about my life other than being ungodly hot.

epic saga saturday

my saturdays are turning into epic quest of adventure and booze. it started with james and breakfast, and then... we went to the wine-making store, where i bought an ayinger oktoberfest, a rauchbier, and a six-pack of new castle cans. we then went to pine tree park (stephen and james and i) and sat upon some pine needles and drank a couple of beers. then back to the city. i borrowed stephen's bike, which i far too small for me and has no brakes, and headed to the westside, with a half pint of jack in my back pocket. the westside street fair was as cool as anything can be over there, so it was lame, but the group i met up with enjoyed a couple of drafts and french fries at the kopper top, and then off to OKTOBERFEST!!! of course i plowed right in, but my companions held back, because they were out of cash munny. i wasn't rich, but there was wurst and erdinger and polka for christ sakes! i ran into danny the dutchman, and drank beers with him a minute, then danced the polka with an octogenarian. off i went to putt putts, a bar that looks real rough on the outside, but isn't that foul on the inside, except for the staff and patrons. so i left and stopped by what i thought was a party, but was in fact a mother and father and their two sons. they gave me beer and i gave them some good ol' reynolds bullshit, because at that point i was quite drunk. i finished the jack on their porch, and stuffed a reds rye in my pocket for the epic ride home. at some point when i was downtown i sat down on a curb and fell asleep. but i woke up and struggled up the hill, only to find a giant box of useful things on the side of the road. i dragged it down to my pal dan's porch, promising to retrieve it when i had a vehicle, and then finally went home. the whole day just seemed epic and long.
sunday i got called gay by a tough guy. that was mean. pancakes and singer song writer and more beer followed.
this morning i saw a praying mantis.

miniature vacations are swell

being very broke from "livin' like there ain't tomorrow" wore heavily on me for about zero seconds as i picked up and blasted into my mini vacation! well, very mini, because of being all broke and only having one day off. thursday i got fairly drunk at meanwhile with three different sets of people, as if i had friends coming in shifts, and then ambled downtown to the drink for kendall girls, but just sort of ran into some gay guys, and we went to club moxie where my friend gillian poured free scotch down our throats. those people on ionia are all fucked, but i liked the loud techno music and the bosnian girl whose name i didn't catch. and then friday i was pretty mellow. until the sun set. james and i handled our business at logan's alley and the meanwhile again, where i met the best girl ever, who just happens to live in perth, australia. bummer. saturday, as i lay ruined on the couch, james and ryan showed up saying things about driving around in the country drinking beers, so next thing i knew, i was in the back seat of a yaris, sipping on high life and looking at cows. turns out we were the "support" car for a big bike ride down to holland, for tgibrewery's atumn fest. we found the bikers eventually, and rolled into holland kind of fucked up. i found peter for a minute, which was rejuvenating. he bought me a beer. after dropping him off it was more car beer and whatnot. we stopped by the whiskey lounge when we were back in town, where the bartender was lamely desperate for our future business. i had a glass of makers, james had a glass of jameson, and ryan had a glass of canadian mist(?). then to founders for more beer. i shut down at some point, and slept like a dead fetus on the couch. sunday stephen made french toast, and donnie told me about sorcery. it was a fun vacation.

karmic carmex

once again on the walk home i buy smokes from fatima the kindly turk, who only charges me five because she thinks i'm an art student, and once again a morton house dreg gestures in front of his head muttering, and i just keep walking. and then my lighter didn't work. here's it for now:
finally working on the painting
finally sick of going out
finally able to masturbate to print porn, after a year or so of internet porn withdrawal
finally carmex season

last wank of summer

i went up north to a hunting lodge in the manistee national forest with nine other people. it was really cool. we ate and drank and smoked and tubed and shot gun and made out and then went back to the city. my apt is infested with a swarm of flies akin to this shit:

fuck it!

small hands pulling mine off while a whiskey and olive juice soaked tongue parades around her mouth in a rainy parking lot. sitting next to me uninvited at the bar. i left the first time. but i came back. why won't somebody do my fucking laundry for me? summer is fun fun fun. i got my moped fixed for a favor and a new record player as an extended loan. closed a credit card. can women tell these things? do small accomplishments stimulate musk glands? (Peter: "I want you to stimulate my musk glands.") i need a bed in chicago labor day weekend, friends who live in chicago that read this (0).

out of clay he formed...

alright. got a new bike. here's the question: is it stolen or simply found?
i was biking home from somewhere (the bar) and saw a bike on the bike rack in front of kava house in eastown. i noticed it was unlocked so i turned around to check it out. it was about 1:00am, keep in mind. sure enough, the thing is unlocked. its seat is fucked up a bit, and the right pedal is missing. so i park and lock my other bike down the road, walk back, take a good look around for anyone who might own this abandoned bike, and ride it home and spray paint it black.
so here's the question: did i steal it or find it? i've heard mixed answers to this and would like some more input.

ouch my side

a horrible crash on the bike friday night. i usually crash my bike when i'm coming home late from the bar or early from the bar, too, i guess. but friday i fell sideways on to the road! a car was coming! AAHHHH! now i have some weird injuries the main one being a bruise on my hip that looks like this:

brushing up on my farsi

i think i'll try to get a job in iraq. you can get a lot of loot. there's a job where all you do is sign people in and out of some area, and it pays 82 grand a year tax-free. but here's my main qualm: what's the whore situation like in iraq? do i have to pay some bitch just to see her forehead? do they import their whores? if so, from where? i know dubai has whores, but i don't really want to have to travel internationally to bone a whore. maybe there's bored soldier's wives on an army base i could bone, but they always get pregnant and then soldier boy would be after me. anyways, if i can feel at peace about the whore factor, i really think i could chill in iraq for some dough.

biking around

i've been biking around a lot, and the bike i have kicks ass. i found it on the side of the road, spray painted it, and adjusted it to sort of fit by freakish body. it is a ten speed mountain bike. since i've been riding the living christ out of it, it has lost its front break, which is dangerous, and the rear break is on the outs as well. it's weird, but my obsessive riding makes it so i'm feeling in really good shape these days. but also maybe my obsessive riding it is because i'm not getting any fucks in lately.

near life experience

of course i can't go into details, but nobody reads this shit anyway because i post once a milleni. but yeah, i almost died. almost fell fifty effin feet into the grand river. oh no, my session is timing out. bye.

Hamilton!

i fell backwards out of the three weeks comprising what all in all has been a swell month into a very swollen right tonsil and neon flem bombarding the roadside on the fast ride to work this morning. there was a weekend of extreme excess and success, with expensive tasty beers and rock and roll and meeting a person or two. then there was an in between weekend with some pretending everything was different then it really is and make believe. and then there was a weekend where i wanted both of the previous weekends but couldn't force it, couldn't make the same cupcake without the secret ingredient, i called old friends and didn't answer when they called back, i wanted to imagine myself as someone successful and real, i wanted that damned chandelier i found more than a year ago in a store and never bought, i wanted to get dance drunk not lose shit drunk and ultimately ended up sick and poor and dejected. all in all a pretty swell month. i bought a lot of records. and i speak, and (upon review) write in far too abstract language. nothing i say makes any sense.

about the bottle room. it might also be turned into one of the following:
1. weight room (aka wasted space)
2. art studio (aka wasted space)
3. iguana room (although i wouldn't want the cold blood of an innocent reptile on my hands, not after franuel)
4. torture/ sex chamber (aka wasted space)
damn. i really need to come up with better uses for it, before the bottle smashing reaches a baneful zenith, and i end up with a shard of green grolsch glass stuck between my toes. any suggestions are welcome.

hooray for everything!

i thought yesterday maybe to start blogging all the time again. i was called out by a muslim whilst biking to a meeting. he remembered the george heist. none of this is relevant. i have a room in my house for smashing bottles. they only give you a half hour on these damn public library computers. i have four minutes remaining. i've decided on something. i left work today. because i felt like it. i might get fired. that's ok. soon other things will happen.