JC

grey walls are great.
i don't drink milk from the box and i don't eat baloney, this place is not for me.
pancakes aren't supposed to taste like that, and real tea is not the same color as the water i just pissed in. oh yea, and toilet seats aren't supposed to be stainless steel.
but at home now: my desk is full of stuff. the carpet is still littered with too many clothes. the bathtub still has a big ring. the pillow cases all need to be laundered since last month. i'll get around to it.
stuff is normal here at my place, but i wonder how they feel at night when they go back to a normal home? the whole way they ask their questions makes it seem as if they feel they are doing a huge service to humanity, but in fact they are only a part of the ever-growing bandaid of knives and battery acid, armed with guns and laws to hold them up, with ways to get around anything they wish. Although they don't have strong legs to stand on, they TRY to act as if they do, interrogating me as if i killed a sweet baby bunny with my hands in front of my daughter, looking at me from across the table with fire and hate. i don't have anything to tell them, those fucks, i have no clue what they are talking about as they try to put the words they want me to say in my mouth and in my head, fuck those guys and the whole act they put on. what a great line of work they have chosen: killing.
i am still dealing with a slight learning disability from my head accident, but i will not forget how bad these guys suck at life. to be a part of team Haters and Killers is way beyond a happy and healthy way to go about it all, i will not be a part of their team, no matter what. and i emphasize, no matter what. they gave the offer to let me be a part of the team, but no worries, no matter what.

space,

sometimes i speak in metaphors and some people that come in contact with my words don't truly 'get' what i am trying to say. it is one of my (so-called) communication flaws, but granted, i don't suspect that most are listening to or reading what i say. so, if you are one of the ones who read my space blogs, be fore warned. there are things you might not have a clue as to what i am talking about, and there are sentences about things that are not in contact with you. really, this weird space page is for my wanderings to wander freely, and if they touch another person, cool. if they don't, cool too.
it's always all good in space,

cincy

sundays are for making a big breakfast and going to pirate parties.

BUT, wrapping around a statement made by something un-alive books can speak well sometimes,
in 1984 and 25 years later, what ever shall be done to correct all that might happen? the never-ending-story nothing is happening, big huge clouds of Target McDonalds Hannah-Montana over take culture as we will remember it to be. fuck cincinnati

mmmmm ham hocks. yea.

reading is cool. book clubs are cool. books are cool. clubs are cool too, but we need a club house. maybe we can make one in my back yard when it gets warm outside. hey yea, there's trees out there that would work, and there is space to do it. we can put my huge hammock out there too. wait, i don't know where that things is. wait, yea i do, yea. i can get it tomorrow.
maybe i should just put it up in my living room. i don't think the landlord would care, it's all good. yea. hammock.
all this talk of hammocking has made me hungey, i want to make some soup with ham hocks. mmmmm ham hocks. yea.

and back again at 9 pm....

thinking of boats.

it's real cool

what involves smiling? anything and everything around me, i smile and it all becomes.
sipping hot coffee as i make my way up a hill, feet attatched to the ground yet flying upwards, ice making noises under my cloth shoes as i make steps. watching the water flow downwards, hearing drips and drops and people happy to be outside, laughing and yelling at the weather and each other. coming home to find my house full of good smells, someone ran over a skunk again, and now it's time to eat more food and cash my check to pay the rent. finally not in the red.
i was glued to a vibe and a bed of pillows and black and white dog, ears and nose, ears and nose, stomachs making noises, ears and nose, laughing, black and white dog, not wanting to get up and leave makes my rent even more late. it's cool though, in fact it's real cool.

fucking the snow lots

sweetness primal penmanship abundance. correct grammatical manuevers. staying in between the lines. eating pizza with friends. hanging out with my awesome kid. freezing, it's cold out. checking out my pictures from my walks last night. sweet:
snow walks to look at the snow piling up on all the buildings and cars, watching the trees shiver in the wind and spill snow into the air around the streetlights, smiling about stuff. wishing i had a great camera, trying to talk my shitty one into being a cool camera at least, lots of snow to try and remember: perpendicular building lines with streets, stars, steps, bushes, and people. shoe tracks in the snow intersect car prints.