| Jallo from your fiendly neighbor/hood Jarlsonkin! |
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| 11:30pm 20/07/2007 |
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mood: 3 music: Mustang Sally- Silver Apples
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Well, I tried not writing in this thing. I am now going to try writing in it.
Uh-huh, good it still works.
So hows is everybaldy? Splendid! What's up Jearsh! Ethan, my main Rubut! How've you been old boy? Leo, yes I agree Livejournal does suck...
Hmm, I don't have a silly poem or funny test-tubed anecdote but I do have thiuuss moofie I made.
The Morning
Pretty innit? Thanks Marco. Thanks Jared. Thanks Bobby. Oh, I do have something for you! I'll give a little quote. This one's for you BEEEDOS.
Quote of the Day:
"Stay golden guys...s-stay golden...." - Lyle
That we shall. Carry on my retard son. There'll be peas when you're undone. Lay your wrinkly head to rest.... |
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Read 4 - Post |
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| THEqueues |
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| 03:33am 08/01/2006 |
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music: The Queues- Opposite Milk Day
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Post |
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| Jimrad Is An Arsehowl |
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| 10:59pm 28/02/2005 |
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mood: 3 music: The Beatles- From Me To You
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I live far away but that's alright, I spend most of my time inside. Third of all, I found certain things to be desirable and I wore a longer coat on my ears. But then Gersh called me.
DINNER
Gersh has a satanic club called AITP and the club is going to hell. Gersh ran into the dormitory, threw his excess baggage onto the narsty floor, and ran off mentioning somethings about consumables. Naturally I followed his legs to his auto and we Rhode to the Home For the Ailing. All the devils fiends were there and they were almost humid. GershMan introduced me as the Colonel of Pro Developing, since this was a covert operation and we had to maintain Strictly Secrecy, and they bit. They were a seedy bunch, not a hairless head among them.
Nomane
Mysterious devildog
Charlie
Doofus extraordinaire
Conrad
A master of disguise
Shay
Giant and shaman
Douglish
Disgruntled former OFFICE REPOX employee
So the banquet beganed, each dish more detectable than the last. During the course of the meals, Shay and Nomane began to reward each other for their mutual disdain towards the president. For the sole purpose of alarming them I recounted a falsified story of how I was great chums with the president and was offended by their outrageous liberalista comments. I then entered a blank contact into my cellaphone and claimed that I was going to call the president if they did not stop. They begged me not to do so, but I told to them not to worrify themselves as I had seen into their souls and come to the conclusion that the two were closeted conservatives. As Shay and Nomane confessed their hidden love for stately rights, I eyed Conrad and knew he was up to something. Sure enough, as soon as the banquet had ended, paying time came and Conrad was nowhere to be found. The truth is, the everybastard left without leaving tribute and then put on a moustache and changed his name to Jimrad! The rest of the AITPS did not even attempt to capture the conniving criminal, a sign that this sort of thing must happenstance to them all the time. To quell their nonexistent temor of Jimrad, I offered to pay for the entire meals. Packing their coats into their sock drawers, they left, never suspecting for a moment that I had purchased the meals with a fake credit card. Just as Gersh and I were leaving, Charlie announced he would be using the side door of the House. I watched with great joy as he pushed the door open, completely oblivious to the rather large EMERGENCY FIRE EXIT ONLY sign and alarmed the entire room, including the people inside of it.
CHARLIE EXPLAINS HIS DILEMMA:
"FLugghh hururm! OOOPS!"
Manager: DON'T YOU KNOW HOT TO READ?!?
CHARLIE: NO PLEASE TEACH ME! HHOPHOO!
WHAT A JERK HE IS A JERK I DON'T LIKE THE MANAGER. I AM EMBARRASSED, THAT IS ENOUGH. I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY THEY DON'T JUST KEEP THAT DOOR LOCKED?
I calmly told him that, to alleviate the recurrence of an incident such as his, the management may wish to place a sign dictating in large letters that the door was to be used for EMERGENCY FIRE EXITS ONLY.
Charlie did not take the suggestion as well as I hypothesized, but he took it anyways.
I doubt there will be further jointly excursioneds between myself, the Colonel Salamander, and Their Satanic AITP'S Request Group.
Quote of the Day:
"You will know when the monorail is converted into a stereotype."- Miller M. Millerton
I will pounce you in your dreams and lick your ear, and you will feel very uncomfortable. |
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Read 14 - Post |
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| The Evening Tiles Are Wet Again |
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| 01:38pm 08/07/2004 |
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mood: 3 music: Bob Dylan- Maggie's Farm
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I destroyed the intial rounds of wolfcats and their wolffacts. Having executed a Pseudo-Jailbreak and survived by sustaining myself and my health by consuming the skin of my teeth, I assuredly assure your monstrousness that this was no easing feat.
Although I nearly succumbed to outside influenzas, ranging from arrows to bullets, I proved to be a real danger, yet the real danger was the fatigue virus that engulfed my locks. As a result they were sacrificed in the name of the Compassionable Box. But understand there is no compass of compassion.
If there were such a compass, one could be even further assured that it would not have the time, being a compass that dictated to stand in a straight line. Regardless of the similarities between a pocket watch and a pocket compass, their purposes are on opposing endings of the Spectrum. Even on such a soothing capsule, they attempt to target and paste their face paints with salivations of selfishness.
Have you ever taken a ride on the Spectrum? Do you understand? No, the dictatorship of the Compassionable Box is still a mysterious mist of the Mister Icing. Mister Icing jigging atop your yellowed cake. Now available if you call now, the ever spatial Mister Icing comes with six different types of misters to enable your icing to look most icy. That is all you bedeviled eggs are after. Even the premature death of the Pseudo-Jailbreak is inexplicable to your laughter, and why should it not be?
Observe a new elevator to be pondered. Pre-productive production on the latest product of a time. A featured film coming soon to a watchdog near you. Throw a ten kyuu in the direction of the Low Pez again.
Quote of the Day:
"Even if the ostrich doth not watch your fall off the side of the glass, be certain to watch yourself." - King Woelsk of the Kingdom of Rufiang
Continue to stand in a straight line, paste salivations on the face paints, and walking with your monstrousness. I will still play. |
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Read 5 - Post |
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| Inconstant Currents |
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| 10:53pm 26/03/2004 |
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mood: 3 music: The Beatles- The Word
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Frrrrr.
Frrrr.
Frrr.
I am the Winter.
The world doesn't fit into a goblet, at least it doesn't, until it is melted.
Things have been twisty all over the way. But lately there have been other bowels. It is, in any case, though usually that is not the case. By that Eye means that there are severed all options to selection from. Cases come in many sizes and shapes. This information is given just in case Two did not know.
Eye will drink to that, and he does so, with such optimum gusto.
A toast! To carbon! To carbon based lifeforms! Carbon on the side of your toast that you so ignorantly waste, simply because it doesn't suit your taste. Well let my terr you somfin. If your taste needed to be dressed, it wouldn't have met existence as an oral exhibitionist.
Eye is so tipsy. He damns himself with the villainous poisonous. No sympathy for he.
Quote of the Day:
"Frying a bushel will save you both nourishment and lawn maintenance, but buy you none in the elongated run." -Schadel P. Urnstung
Now bewared. Be weird. Be wired. Tomorrow the knight weel have a bawl in a blossom world. |
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Read 4 - Post |
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| Everybaldy Salivates Thanks-Evening |
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| 04:26pm 27/11/2003 |
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mood: 3 music: John Lennon- Cold Turkey
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The Eve of Thanks. So many thankful.
Especially thankful for the Hinmans and the Low Pez. Life is hilarium indeed.
Anjoy comics now. Click upon the fowl!
Now remember that he died for our function, so remind him in your digestion.
Quote of the Day:
"Quantify your unidentified thoughts and keep them most secure." - Feflor C. Hast
You are welcome to join us at any taken time. |
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Read 10 - Post |
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| Threetoowon |
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| 08:03pm 12/11/2003 |
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mood: 3 music: The Beatles- Don't Let Me Down
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This is the eleventh hour, where all surrounding scenes seem to slow downward. The day of reckoning is tomorrow I reckon. The Rubuts shall initiate their initially initial conquest of the Pharmacies. There is no butterfly to distract my innards being. Those vicious creatures were expelled with the final death knell caused by our dancing thunder. Now bleeeeeed!
Having prepared all the preparatory preparations, the one thing that is all leftover is for the observers to prepare themselves. Ah, now throw!
The ball is rolled and it is time for it to roll on and get to rolling. Now make a face!
Quote of the Day:
"Rifty in the morning song will never be silenced as long as one maintains hope."- Walt P. Gargle
If you are not deciphering, then you are not thinking enough about something, or you are thinking too much about nothing. |
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Read 3 - Post |
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| If And When The Lobes Are Bloated |
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| 09:37pm 16/09/2003 |
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mood: 3 music: The Doors- My Eyes Have Seen You
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A twisty storm rumbles within and from the in, the growth begins. Globular newborns make their ways, and others as well, through the lazily constructed labyrinths. Dodging the obstacular creatures of different origins in addition to their brotherly kin. Suddenly, a dampening, a cavern expands enabling them to burst out of their quick sand. It ends with the escaping of these flatulent beings. They come out of the nowhere and vanish with the thin air. How odd to rush so quickly out from the empty, to finally and fully embrace the finality. What a gaseous disturbance.
OneWall To TwoWall
This enclosure is caving upon us,
And so my mind attempts to combust,
It is just something else to veer me off course.
All the roadblocks single me out because,
The reasons seem too mysterious,
It is just something else to fear me of course.
Some wired welding and energy plus,
My old positively charged reasons,
Will something gear me to finish the main course?
Quote of the Day:
"All the small, infantile child could do was evolve into something greater."- Welsol de La Marta
One moment, or more, there will be something to change all the others. In the meantime, suffer a carnivorous fate. |
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| Differiant On A Nuffin |
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| 11:03pm 03/09/2003 |
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mood: 3 music: The Beatles- And Your Bird Can Sing
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Such strangeling things can strangle many others. But somehow my vessel avoids the grip of the demonic muscles. Tis fun to see, how easily, these billy goats get caught up. The trivialities become the dominating force. To obsess over what matters less comes natural of course.
Enjoy this temporary visitrum by making a click on the pictoor. (A big ten kyuu to the Emacing Vitofriend)
Let that be lesser we shall all consumable.
Quote of The Day
"Oftey times you will find yourself the underdog in a larger scheme."- Narshallt B. Muller
Now everyone, in unison, achieve a similar end. |
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Read 6 - Post |
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| I Fought The Wolfcats |
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| 10:33pm 31/07/2003 |
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mood: 3 music: Blood, Sweat & Tears- Go Down Gamblin'
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A leave of absence was taken by Jarl Sonkin. This was in order to go and quest in the dry and barren South West. I ventured through the lands still untouched by modern man. Time to recount things that occurred while exploring mountains. Many thanks to a great Vitofriend who goes by the name of Hinman, for making this essaying possible.
"For a visitrum into the images of the vacation"
Here is visibley the Hoover Dam. Tis a modern marvel, one that took only 3 hours and change to complete. To top it all off, a dog put the finishing touches by allowing himself to be cremated alive on top of the dam as it was filled with water.
This is the story the natives told and gave clues to the whereabouts of wild wolfcats. If one looks closely, one can see an ancient machine in the imaging.
In Utah, a long hike to and from a cliff gave us our first encounter with the wild beast. It streaked right in front of us, just as Father whispered, “Oh man, is that a beaver?” My face previously had been flushed, but now it began to overflow as I said the words we feared would be spoken, “Nope. That there’s a wolfcat.”
The vicious monster stared at me, and I stared right back at it. Then the disinterested abomination turned its head towards its true prey, a tiny ground squirrel. Luckily, our involuntary involvement enabled the herbivorous hamster sized creature to escape the weird and wild wolfcat’s wrath. We thought all was well, but that was not so. The wolfcat looked back at our party angrily. I then proceeded to fight the wolfcats. Never fight a wolfcat. It will eat you as quickly as you take a breath.
The sign said not to feed the beastlings. Too late for that.
The hike of Calf Creek was an arduous one, but worthwhile, because at the end of the trail there was a hidden oasis, as cold as ice.
On our way back, Father sneezed and awoke a bush made of rattlesnakes. Luckily, it smelled the wolfcat on me, so it was more afraid than we were. It was getting dark, prime wolfcat time, so we hurried and finished the 6 mile hike before it was too late.
An endless trail that was supposedly 1 mile long, but after our 6 mile hike the day before, something felt wrong. When we finally returned to our rental vehicle, a familiar furry feline-canine scurried across our path. The wolfcats had switched the sign from the actual length, to a misleader. So the untamed wild had the last laugh after all.
Arizona became our home and we visited the famed Grand Canyon, where Jarl Sonkin was due to put on a free beneficiary concert. Salutations are given to rabid rabbit fans at the bottom of the canyon.
The Wishful Sinful City was a sight to see. If only it wasn’t so dirty. There was an excessive amount of moneymaking machines. But there were even more money eating ones.
Traveling by sky, watched the day come into existence, did not enable me to rest my viewing lens.
The trip was enjoyable, and the wolfcat expedition, successful. Sustenance providing jerkbeef and eight almonds proved to be all that was necessary until supper practically everyday. Everyone should take such a trip eventually.
Quote of the Day:
“Invariably, it will occur to thee that you are not living as you should be. You shall be bored, and be ignored, but just enbeverage your mind, and you’ll feel just fine. Just make sure you keep your wheel spinning, you despicable creature.”- Sir Warstel of Garlanston
Until nexerdy, dance on a cloud of chicken ears and sing a song of bearded candy. |
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Read 3 - Post |
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| Where Breaded Beards Go A-Rye |
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| 11:49pm 13/07/2003 |
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mood: 3 music: Television- Friction
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One early mornin’ in th’ fall of ‘94 there came into play a series o’ events that were recalled to me by Feather Pluckin’ Jim. Jim was an old friend o’ my folks who wasn’t too smelly but still managed to have a slight odor that was unpleasant enough to make a person want to back away just ever so slightly, to avoid th’ wisps o’ old stink that emanated from his being. This problem probly came from th’ whole feather pluckin’ business Jim used to be involve himself in. At any rate, but heard best at a moderate one, he told me this old story of his that brought about tiny globules o’ sparklin’ salt to his eyes, but never once did that ol’ timer ever wipe at his seeing circles at any time at all. To do so might hurt th’ mans already fragile Finnish pride. This is how that there tale of his went.
"Once upon a time, while we was kids slurpin’ on limes, there came a man a wanderin’ down by an old folks home we used to sleep in front of on warm afternoons. The man had sort of bread like appearance, not th’ sort of appearance you might want to have either. His face had the kind of expression a slice of good warm bread might have if it went cold in th’ rain. Now I recognize that it might be a bit difficult to recognize that sort of look, but trust me, try eatin’ one-a them breads while you stare at the mirror and you’ll catch the gist. So anyways, this guy so plain started circling’ round th’ home. For a little while me an’ my pals let him have his fun doin’ this. But, there came a moment when enough was enough and me an my buds felt the time to get tough was comin’ upon us. Y’see his look was turnin’ a might a fright if you know what I mean. Like b’fore his face was that old, cold, wet, breaded look, but it was meltin’ away to reveal a menacin’ appeal. We didn’t take none to kindly to this sort of activity around homes, specially ones that involved the elderly. So me an’ my friends nodded to one another, takin’ big chunks outta our last lime snacks, and proceeded to rush the ol’ fool. Well you wouldn’t believe the things this man started spoutin’ at our youngin’ ears. Not the kinda things that your’d wanna hear at such a ripe age. No they wasn’t the type-a word you might’ve heard in one-a them pictures on TV. It was just the oddness of his word choice that scarred our minds for the rest of our lives. “You’re not reaaaalll!!!” No no no!!! Ahhhh!! I can’t find you!!! Get out of my teeeeth!! You’ll wash them if you don’t!!! Aiiieeee!!! The Wind in The Willows is a book chronicling events to come!!! Yarrr!!” Those are the sorts a things he started a hootin’ and a hollern’ and we was just wallowin’ in our amazin’ discovernment of a real life loon! Then the man turned at our faces, as he returned to his bread and scissors look, th’ one he had when you looked at him from far away, and he says, “Gentlemen, I shall see you at 5:30.” And with that, he gave each a us a yellow mint, and that was it. We never done saw that man again.”
Feather Pluckin’ Jim tends to tell me this when I don’t look like I’m doin’ nothin’ at his front yard. I never do understand why those tiny globules o’ sparklin’ salt come out from inside his eye circles, and I don’t reckon’ he does neither.
Quote of the Day:
"If that's the best kind of slur Sir Lafanear can muster, then I have not any reason to feel the slightest bit flustered."- Sir Opstan of Narstastorl
Everything will be so odd and contrived, and I will never have felt more alive.
All visions shall be differently constructed, once the world has finally re-erupted.
The bizarre at last having due reward, shall take the progress and move it forward.
Now make sure you do your electricize, or else I'll metamorphize right before your molding eyes. |
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Read 1 - Post |
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| The Giant Clock |
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| 11:05am 11/07/2003 |
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mood: 3 music: Radiohead- Subterranean Homesick Alien
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Lardel was always on board on time. Everyman and every kid desired to be just like him. His peculiar and perfect punctuality record raised quite a few eyebrows, but not in the way that would in any manner suggest that Lardel was doing something unordinary. On the contrary, it was extraordinary. In the eyes of his superiors, he was always the most wonderful apple. Things went perfectly, as they should for Lardel, and they continued to for a long time. But there came a day, when all of that changed.
It was a day for tattoos, and everyone on board was excited. All were anxious to see what kind of tattoo Lardel would choose. So the sailors went to get their tattoos, one by one, each going in with frightened eyes, and coming out with a pain-filled grin. They also all came out with tattoos. Ranging from angry anchors to scary skulls, from bleeding hearts to naked women. All were impressive works of body-art, yet there was one person who had a tattoo that attracted all the attention the sea-faring ship’s inhabitants could muster on such short notice.
Lardel had received quite a unique tattoo. It was not only considered unique among the ones the others had chosen, but unique among any one else who has ever received a tattoo. As for the location, that was something to marvel at as well. For Lardel had decided that it was appropriate to have tattoo of a giant clock placed right on his forehead. All the sailors, including the superiors were afraid of Lardel now. Perhaps his punctual behavior had gotten the best of him. “He’s gone mad,” said some of his peers as they spoke over the radio to their longing loved ones awaiting them on the other end of the pier. “I’m awfully worried about that odd man,” said his superiors with awful grimaces and furrowed brows on their faces. Everybody was hurrying here and there to speak of more gossip about Lardel and his peculiarly painted head that giant clock, everyone, except for Lardel. Many of the regular duties in which the sailors were involved in had been constantly postponed because of their curiosity and their want to attempt to decipher what was going on in Lardel’s mind and on his forehead as well, what with that giant clock. Meanwhile, Lardel was enjoying his newfound life, not going on anyone’s clock but his own, giant clock.
Then one day, the other began to notice something about Lardel. The giant clock was fading. “How can this be?” they inquired amongst themselves, as if anyone else could possibly have the answer besides Lardel. So one brave soul eventually decided to question Lardel himself. “Lardel, why is it that you have had that horrendous giant clock on the skin of your forehead placed there permanently, just so it could begin to fade now?” Lardel, with a ridiculously giant smile reminiscent of Jack Nicholson, stepped up onto the railing of the ship, and began to explain. “Sailors, do you not realize what is happening?” he said. “No!” shouted the others back at him. Lardel widened his grin and continued, “My giant clock has captured so much of your attention, that you have forgotten your duties. All of you have been rushing back and forth, talking to one another, just to try and find out what my giant clock is supposed to mean. The answer was right in front of you all along. I was well known on this ship for my peculiar and perfect punctuality. I let time slip by me, even though I managed it better than anyone else onboard. Yet in reality, I was letting a giant clock that was constructed by other men rule my actions and decide how I used the time I had. But this tattoo, this giant clock, liberated me, and the funny thing is, it is not a true tattoo. It is but a temporary tattoo! Just as life is temporary, so is my tattoo. As my tattoo fades away, as do all our lives, I implore you, don’t let yourself get carried away with trying to follow the clocks of others. Enjoy life, and manage it however you desire. For aren’t we all just a bunch of temporary tattoos of giant clocks on life’s forehead. Well, all except for myself. Time no longer means anything to me. Farewell.” And with those last words, Lardel tossed himself into the unforgiving sea, no longer subject to the rules that time and life bestow upon us. Lardel no longer had to wear his temporary giant clock tattoo. But everyone else onboard would have to continue to do so, at least, for a little while longer.
Quote of the Day:
"Well, I wouldn't count on Sir Opstan to able to count and neither should you."- Sir Lafanear of Beorringstown
Elemental empowerment employed by the Mystical Hour Mint. Hygiene lives for all. That is if one does not ensalten oneself. |
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Read 2 - Post |
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| A Masked Mystery Cape |
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| 10:48pm 15/06/2003 |
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mood: 3 music: The Doors- Strange Days
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Twins were prancing up and down the sideways walk, one evil maudlin morn.
Between three worlds the traversers had found themselves intorn.
"Up, out, above and towards the sun!"
Cried out a sparsely feathered Injun.
But at the very moment those words were spoken,
A Merry Mantis caused his spirits to be broken.
"Be quiet you miniscule, interior itty!", the Mantis politely suggested.
And whilst the Injun collapsed onto the gelatin paved road,
the Merry Mantis was immpromptially arrested.
Grieving over his soulshards was the joyless Injun,
The remnants of this once proud visage,
Were lying all around him, his story frozen,
Dismissed by spectators as a timepiece mirage.
The Merry Mantis erupted, "Twas only a service to the community,
All I wanted was for this to be a land of opportunity!"
Quote of the Day:
"Eat all of your respective viciousgerbils, and you shall explode to become human Gus." - Gary O'Lushrel
Don't barfer me. |
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| Uraaa Is The Type Of Thing To Howl Into An Empty Glass Soda Bottle |
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| 11:04pm 10/06/2003 |
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mood: 3 music: Television- See No Evil
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Spirits are always inching like third-inch worms being measured with a centimeter stickling. These ghostlings inch past the cornereds of the white soaked walls that enclose my domicile, having now accumulated enough coverage to count half past a mile. Being enclosed in this understood place brings me many rubber stamps. If I were to take these rubber stamps, why the possibilities of the extremities to which my opposanities could reach would be infinitesimally calculating. But that is of course, rather imprintedly speaking.
Where was the cursor leaning towards before I spouted incense words? Ah yes, the mysterfluous world of unworldly beings. As everybastard knows, certain people, partake in a certain belief, that claims that certain un-anymoles exist, a claim that most certainly raises a few uncertain eyebrowns. These un-anymoles are known as the ghosts. Ghosts are supposedly undead things that come out from deadland and come to perform hauntings. Hayever, not many peedles know that ghosts are actually Holly-Grams. Yes it is true, the ghosts began their anti-life's existence as holographic greeting cards designed to raise holiday spirits in the waning religiously inclined seasons reasons, before they gave way to the corporate commercialism by which the earth is now imprisoned. Of course, an audience is wandering, and I quickly take my water bottle, swig a bit of that impossibly pure agua, and spit it all over the Spain's offender. Wonder no more, because the answer will be revoked in the next edition of "Tengo Caracoles".
Quote of the Day:
"If a Smithy appears daily in front of ye, then do not be a hesitant to throw his arse back where he went."- Luntold G. McMacalls
All ya do is moan. I'm gettin' mighty worried. Dress yerself, steada me havin to. |
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Read 1 - Post |
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| Ruff Ruff Ruff As Fast As You Can |
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| 11:52pm 21/05/2003 |
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mood: 3 music: The Velvet Underground- White Light/White Heat
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I want to take one of them big blades and curoff all of yer heads. Then I'd like to arrange your cranial casings in a neat little row in the front yard of a respected individual, so that even in death, you will remain just as proud and revered as you are in your current state.
Well, I feel these lights coming into my visitrum periodically, much like a neon wave spinaching wildly and yet so gracefully. Having these bouts with the resilient brilliance that inhabits my chrysanthemum, I feel the knees to Constantine be writing, drawring, or seeing within me. What a picture it paints, having no preset preference to a perfect tool of it's own the zire. Oh, forgive my inability to speak to thee in the language of the pheasantry. But nevermind what I said before, it's time for poelklorener.
Glowing Eyeballs Dear
Oh honey did I ever say,
You have the most beaturous eyeballs?
I absotively love the way,
They crawlerall along the cell walls.
They chortle, frown, turn upside down,
You give me such jazzy eyes.
Well honey have I ever told,
You that your peculiar pupils glow?
A hue something akin to mold,
The very same substance that they grow.
They mutter, howl, winged like a fowl,
You give me such jazzy eyes.
Now honey have I mentioned yet,
You spin those envisioning globules?
My minds eye just cannot forget,
Those mysterfluous bleeding ovules.
They hover, bark, speak like a lark,
You give me such jazzy eyes.
Quote of the Day:
"Perceive a world of perseverance, and it shall be granted. Believe in lands of boundlessness, and the same will be invented. Envision a universe of envious, and with it you shall be cursed" -Gergolord de La Yospma
Do you believe in physics? Well I'm glad you do,
I got a physitrician waiting here for you. |
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Read 2 - Post |
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| Run Into A Multi-Cornered Object And Impale Yerself |
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| 10:41pm 11/05/2003 |
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mood: 3 music: The Beatles- Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Kite
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Oh how greasebound can you be? Just stop creating enemies. It's so hilarium what an impocketedly dumb society. Heat that grilled meal just a bit more prease. I simply can't wait til you're buried and dead, and I'm traversing the world, spreading the word instead.
Stop telling me not to consume your inner thoughts.
What a wonderplan vacacion. It was such a twisted adventrek, that it bordered being based on a novel. Everyman had an approprium role. I made advancements in my studies of the Hinmans. There is just so much to shell, and I'd rather not. So many bad things were done by the villainous chilluns. Especially the bloodcurdling cry of an infamous chickun. Everydomes, today was 'Dia de las Desmadres', a celebration in honor of co-givers of life. Chikuns and mariachis most definitely mix. Just a bit more limejuice if you won't.
I miss that glorious Metropolis.
Spaced out, baby, I'll stare at the moon, but not one created by human form. That celestial wonderbeing certainly dominated the Trip of Confusion. Gave me mystilerfluous powers to spread my infectious chaos. Ow.
"Trouble is my middle finger."- Jorge A. Garcia
Watch it bub, or I'll pop you one right in the kisser. |
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Read 4 - Post |
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| Peeorang |
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| 10:37pm 12/04/2003 |
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mood: 3 music: John Lennon- Working Class Hero
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Well, I'm off tomorrow, and I won't be back in time for breakfast. The city beckons. Have a foghorned time with the springs you find and their portos. A New York is better than an old one.
Welcome, improve the efficiency we'll take over the pharmacy. Lovingdale prescription's well. Change is so rubberband.
Quote of the Day:
"Immunity and forgetting aren't so terribly different."- Flarsht de La Gasta
Listen, listen to you. Come around the bend. Look over there, even if you're scared. It's alright. Everything is transmitting a message, if only you wouldn't interrupt. |
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Read 1 - Post |
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| Deposit Your Interest Into The Resting Spot |
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| 10:11pm 10/04/2003 |
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mood: 3 music: The Beatles- Revolution
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The Rubuts can. They will. The future. Is it really now? Where are the flying cars, ringed shoulders, and multiple hands? The future is uncertain. But if there is one thing about the future that is certain than it is this. In the future, it will all be run by Rubuts...so it does not matter....
Right and wrong don't get along because of various reasonings. Why can't they try to let bad times just slide away? Because of an insectuous creature that eats a common sense. It's the pride, my everlasting gobstopper. That's what it all hardboils down into.
Alright , alright let's cut to the chase, I don't care if you don't have the knowledged of how to edit. Now you see here, right there, bring in the slow motion. If only you'd do so more often children then perhaps we wouldn't be having so much treble. Just take a look around and project the image correctly. C'mon, it can't be that hard. Can I be a guide? Don't make me question myself. Never again. General, I refuse to salute you until this mighty nation has shown some maturation. Never.
Quote of the Day:
"In time you'll come to find that life it just ain't kind, and if you should notice, then you'll come to know this."- Jarl Sonkin
Don't be subtle, come right out and say it. Hide! There are two. No. There are three. Always. |
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Read 5 - Post |
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| Harm Eats It Up |
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| 03:45pm 02/04/2003 |
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mood: 3 music: The White Stripes-Black Math
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Anyhows, right awhile ago from now I put the pad neath my armed pit. At first it felt akin to the pillows that are placed to keep your brains that the head contains from spilling the contents onto the ground while you slumber. But, after some time of wandering fast, I actually came at last to the conclusion of how it truly was sensed. This thing called a pad feels so comfortable located within my armpit. But who's keeping count? Certainly not myself. Count the days instead. Really, please do, it'll do you all some good...
The Rubuts at the Caverned Club-Sandwench
Ladies and Gentlemen!! Please welcome, Jarl Sonkin and the Rubuts!
cheeeeeeerrrr
Jarl: Hey man, you go out there again and introduce us right.
But, isn't it Jarl Sonkin and the Rubuts?
Jarl: No, the name of the band is the Rubuts, that's it.
Well ok, I'll go and...
Beedo: NO
Zeus: What?
Ike: Huh?
Beedo: The name of the band... is Tony Perkins and the Weather.
FROM THEN ON IT WAS SO
SEND
Quote of the Day:
"Right from the start, every single one is cursed with having been brought into existence. Their only blessing being that they have the capability to infuse themselves with the products required. Absolutely."- Yernao De Pualsk
Hey, come on now, faulker. |
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Read 3 - Post |
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| Come Unto Me Brightly Shaded Pheasantries |
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| 08:39pm 29/03/2003 |
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mood: 3 music: The Strokes- Someday
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Every so oftey, but mostly lately, the moon has been dancing on my feathers, hence the approprium titled.
Can't help but find the levity in all that is surrounding. Oh, you feel so confident, that you finally fit in, but who the hell are you kiddin'? No one fits in children, and that's a most honest thing. Go and create your own subculture, thrive in it young one. Yet be wary, for soon enough it'll all come undone, your future melted away while you indulged in dangerous fun.
Regardless, here's something for you smellitars.
The Dancing Beings
Perched on rocks they all began,
Hardly resembling modern man,
One of them beat a skin and stick,
And with it birthed the music,
So they began the mystic dance.
The time passed in a quick fashion,
Many of them became impassioned,
Things to take and have and possess,
Piled riches in a mess,
So continued the mystic dance.
They faltered, fell and did misstep,
And still the mystic rhythm kept,
Till ambitiousness struck town,
That is when the progress went down,
So some forgot the mystic dance.
Beings were making errors,
Giving way to new terrors,
Damaging decisions done,
Nowhere left to scream or run,
So less would do the mystic dance.
Genocide, materialists,
People raising clenching fists,
Those who let their freedom ring,
Silenced those that once could sing,
So none were left to do the mystic dance.
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.
The beach has a wondrous smell, least that's what my nostrils do tell.
Sometimes, the human tongue escapes me, and I find myself speaking to nobody. Perhaps I should learn this primitive lengua. Ideas would come across much more easily instead of living in disguise. Anyterms, you wanderings should stop worrying so much about opposing pensaments. Sociologically inclined jerks already shove enough of their regulating terms down your telescoping throats for you to be stressed by something less. Please, from now on, tell yourselves what to do.
Quote of the Day:
"Gravitational pulls do entertain your thoughts, but be careful not to become to wrapped up in the Saran of impossibility."- Rigor De Mortis
Above all else, brighten your toilet handles. |
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jarlsonkin's journal
