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Sunday, August 5, 2012

There's Something... Oh, It's The Title

     Hi.  What's up?  Don't answer, because you can't.  Probably not.  I wouldn't be able to hear you, at least.  I like things.  I'm on a new medicine that seems to be helping.  But I also drank some today, which made me feel worse.  What a shame.  I guess I'm getting my just desserts.  Speaking of just desserts, I had a dream last night I was supposed to play Justin Bieber in heads up texas hold um.  We were debating over how much we would be playing for, because I wanted to play for a lot, because in my head it was a sure thing I would win, but I think we settled on 50 bucks.  I don't think we ever actually played.  At least not in the dream.  Maybe tonight I'll dream of us playing.  I'll let you know how that turns out.  No I won't.  I'm listening to Weezer's Raditude for this entry.  Lots of fun songs in this album.  About as close as I get to head bopping music.  If that is even a genre.  It should be at least.  My subconscious started talking to me.  So far, nothing useful.  I Saw To Rome With Love a couple of days ago.  It was okay.  I like Roberto Beningi ever since I watched Life Is Beautiful when I was high or drunk, and also when I watched it as a kid, before I was high or drunk.  It's a good movie.  Don't believe me?  Watch it.  Then you'll be able to have your own opinion and not rely on me for your opinions.  I assume you don't, anyway.  You just come here to read bullshit.  Because your life is lacking in the bullshit requirement, apparently.
    I really like being put to sleep so I can have my ECT's.  I'm worried it might lead to a future of heroin abuse, because I imagine that's like being put to sleep, but even better.  Good thing I don't have money or know any heroin dealers.  I don't know what I'm doing with my life.  I think I'm going to go back to Queens College and get back into teaching.  I really don't want to, but I don't see what other options I have.  There aren't even any teaching jobs, apparently, though.  I could start a band that could be the next Weezer, but I'm not that good at guitar or singing, and I'm only getting worse.  Really.  As time passes, my skill decreases.  It defies all logic.  Except if you have the correct logic, which there must be, because otherwise, it wouldn't happen.  I guess I'm just getting bored and it doesn't mentally stimulate me as much as it used to.  Or maybe I've just grown scared of the 8 track after it's disappointed me so many times.  Well, I've disappointed myself through it, to be precise.  I drank two mini bottles of Grey Goose a couple of hours ago.  It sucked.  I haven't drank vodka in a long time, and when I first started drinking, that was all I drank.  But now I hate it.  I'd much prefer whiskey, or rum, or something.  Whiskey was my big thing from 2008-2010.  Then I ran out of money.  I also drink beer.  This is fascinating stuff about your host, me.  Weezer just referring to "bottles of the goose," on the track Can't Stop Partying.  That's what I was talking about! 
    Now I have no money again.  I had ten dollars in quarters and I spent over eight on the two mini bottles.  It looked like a fair amount in each bottle, but when I mixed it in with my drink, it was barely anything.  And by now I'm pretty much sobered up.  The Exorcist was on T.V. last night.  I watched the first half hour, but then had to stop.  That movie really scares me.  I think part of the reason I'm not in a good mood now is because remembering the commercials for it that were playing while it was playing where they show the girl's head turning around, Jesus.  I can't handle it.  At the same time, Mean Girls was playing on another channel, so I watched some of that.  Pretty similar storylines.  Lindsey Lohan is less scary, though.  She's pretty scary, though.  Did you see some of the stuff she did to that popular girl just to get back at her?  Wouldn't want her as a friend.  Not trustworthy.  I also wouldn't want The Exorcist girl as a friend.  Too much of the Devil in her.  One thing I should say, is that for a long time whenever I listened to a song, I felt like it was about me, and since today, since I started drinking, I haven't had that feeling.  And it's good, because it means I'm getting better, but it's bad, because I miss the constant companionship of being able to just put on a song and feel like I'm with a friend.  I know some songs are still about me, but it's just not enough.  Time to kill myself.  Unless Captain Howdy wants to hang out.  Then I'm down for whatever.  Smoking cigarettes isn't even pleasing me.  Or relieving tension.  Or whatever it's supposed to do.  It's just a chore.  Everything is just a chore.  I keep misspelling chore as "chorse."  Really, I've done it three times in a row.  I don't know why.  Maybe it has to do with me wanting to do heroin, while playing a "C" chord.
    Today is 8/5.  That's the year Marty McFly comes from.  1985.  Did you know he has two televisions?  I don't know.  I can't even Imagine.  Before the 1970's, John Lennon couldn't Imagine, but then he figured it out.  I remember hearing that song on the speakers while I was in a eyeglass store.  Or maybe it was Redemption Song.  I remember I heard both at times in my life where I couldn't control it and was in a strange place.  Weezer says that Love Is The Answer.  If he's right about that, I'm freaking screwed.  I have no love.  I mean, I love my parents and my brother, but in a very subtle way, and in the same subtle way it's reciprocated.  And friends, I don't really have any anymore.  And I've never had a girlfriend.  I've been in love couple of times, but always unreciprocated.  Frowntown!  It's okay, I'm all over it now.  And I guess I used to love comedy and love music, but since sucking at both of them, now it's more like they love at me, rather than I love them.  It's not as pleasant.  I should have just gotten two 24 oz cans of natural ice for 3 dollars.  But I wouldn't be able to sneak them into the house.  I could have just drank them in the park.  Oh well, life is full of mistakes.  Like my life.  Pretty sure that was a mistake.   Maybe I was born the rock.  That's what Weezer said.  And the truth is I have like one or two hundred halfway decent songs, but it's been so long since I've written one.  Lately it's just been crap upon crap.  At least I get to go to sleep in six hours.  That's one of the most pathetic things anyone's ever said.  Trophy time!  I remember one of my first experiences with music was I was going to my friend to roller skate at Chelsea Piers in Manhattan, and on the radio was some Bare Naked Ladies.  Good times.  It was funny that we went there, because neither of us were good enough to ride on any of the ramps or anything.  The only thing we could do was the mini-ramp they have so people could speed up. 
    I just need weed.  And something to occupy myself.  I'm going to start a new movement, Occupy Myself.  It should be productive for me.  And a good way to make friends!!!  I don't know.  This week I'm supposed to go on an outing with other people my age with similar mental disabilities that my court ordered AOT is setting up.  I have mixed feelings about it.  On the other hand, it's good to do things, but on the one hand, I don't like most people.  I mean, people are okay, but do we really need to spend time with them?  Am I right?  Just give me some weed and money and I'll be okay.  That's a lie.  I'm terribly lonely.  The change in songs reminded me.  Well, this is almost done.  But there's still fifteen minutes left on the album.  I've been misspelling words left and right.  I guess I have the vodka excuse, but I didn't really drink that much, plus I threw up a couple times, so there really can't be that much in my system.  I'm just wired from being so out of tune with the rest of the world.  I throw up a lot.  I don't know why.  I'm not bulimic, but if I start throwing up, I throw up to completion.  It usually happens after I've eaten and started smoking.  It starts out as a-coughing, and then I take that as my cue to go to the bathroom and throw up.  Who cares.  I do.  It's my only hope for losing weight.  But, yeah, it's unhealthy.  Someday, I'm gonna break out of here and find what is true on my soul.  I've got to get me some, I've got to live my life.  I've got a heart that beats, and nobody else has time.  They ain't gonna keep me down, because I've got to reach the top.  I've got to get me some, I've got to have my rock.  I've got to get me some now baby.  Sorry, I slipped into a Weezer trance.  Anyway.  See ya later.

-5:06 P.M.   


Sunday, August 12, 2012

World's Greatest Grandpa

     Hi.  It's Sunday again.  This is the third entry in a row that I wrote on a Sunday.  Is there a reason to the madness?  Quite possibly.  It's because by Sunday I'm worn out from the week before.  Or maybe I'm ready to make a fresh start for the new week.  Or maybe there's no reason to the madness.  It isn't really madness.  I hope no one read this and started going mad.  Because it's not that big a deal.  I didn't do much this week.  I don't think I did anything.  I bought new guitar cables because my old ones were broken.  Big deal.  So what?  Why am I on trial here?  You should be the one on trial.  I put crazy thoughts out there and the trial is to see if you can deal with it.  I talk about hard hitting issues.  Like the new Vice Presidential Candidate?  Total dog fucker.  I saw Hope Springs, and the part in the movie and in the trailer for the movie where Tommy Lee Jones coughs that he fantasizes about a threesome, if it was Paul Ryan, he'd say, "fucking dogs."  Dog fucking has been on my mind lately.  I think I saw something about it on T.V.  Oh yeah, it was in the movie.  Because he wanted a threesome with a lady who has dogs.  That's probably it.  But also, because Paul Ryan wants to fuck dogs.  They're probably gonna win the election.  Then, guess what?  As soon as you can say, "Oh well," dog fucking is legal.  I don't care too much about politics anymore.  I mean, it's because I'm constantly bombarded with it.  My parents watch MSNBC all the time, and I watch the Daily Show and the Colbert Report, and I'm just tired of it.  I almost feel like, let Romney win, as long as I don't have to see or hear another thing about politics.  Which wouldn't happen, so I'm still supporting Obama, but really.  I'm tired of it.
    Another thing I'm tired of?  Internet stalkers.  You know who you are.  You read all my thoughts and then think I'll never know who you are.  Well the jokes on you, because I have ESP, so I know everyone who reads this.  And by ESP, I mean an abbreviated version of espanol, the Spanish language.  I have some understanding of that language, and because of this, I know who you are.  I remember once when I was still in NYU, I was sitting in Washington Square Park, and I just started thinking about the U.S. foreign policy regarding South America.  It's something no one thinks about, but some people, like the President, have to take these things into account.  Do we really want Romney to represent us to South America?  I wouldn't want him to represent us to anything.  That guy is like a election robot.  He'll say or do anything just to get elected.  Then what happens once he's in office?  I'm scared he would break down.  2013 is past his expiration date.  Also, I want to be clear.  I don't hate Romney because he's a Mormon.  I hate Mormons because Mitt Romney is one of them.  I don't know, I guess some Mormons are probably okay.  They're just people.  But I haven't met one Mormon I liked.  I haven't met any Mormons, though.  Romney is all I have to go by.  Especially because I never saw that show, Book Of Mormon.  Fuck it all.  I'm thinking about changing my name.  I would switch my middle and first names around, and change my last name.  I don't know to what, yet.  I have a couple of ideas floating around.  But I feel like a new name would be like a fresh start in the world.  Plus, my current name is too Jewish, and I want to solidify my nature as a Christian into a Christian name.  Oh yeah, I'm a Christian now.  It's because once in 2010 I was listening to Taylor Swift's Love Story, and suddenly I felt Jesus Christ in my heart for about a minute, and it was like total bliss.  Then it went away because Jesus is a withholding asshole backstabber.  Or maybe I just really liked the song and Jesus doesn't exist.  Who knows?  Not me.  When someone wants someone to take a picture of them, they should say, "Take a picture, withholding camera."  Because some people just need that extra clarification.
    So it looks like I'm going back part time to Queens College in the fall.  I know one course I want to take, Poetry, but I want to take another course too, but I don't know which one.  My mind is still on very shaky grounds, so I don't want to dive into something I can't handle.  That's why I want to take poetry.  It's the easiest thing there is.  Because no one can judge it, really.  They just have to deal with it.  If I ever released a book of poetry, I would call it, "Poetry: Deal With It."  I probably will never write a book of poetry, though.  I'm a pretty good poet, though.  I've written like five good poems in my life.  That's more than most people.  I've also been hospitalized five times.  That's more than most people.  Maybe I could be like a hospital critic.  I've only been to one hospital, but I've been to to four different wings of it, each one unique.  The hospitalization really sucks, though.  I feel like it's changed me, and now I'm a different person, even on the outside.  At the very least, I think it makes people see me differently.  And why shouldn't it, it's basically a sign that this guy is not thinking clearly, so steer clear of him.  Boo Hoo.  All I need is my cigarettes, coffee, soda, website, music, making music, money from my parents, and... oh, shit, they're gonna die some day.  I'm going to need to support myself.  Does Obamacare give you money if you're mentally disabled?  I don't think it does.  Thanks a lot, asshole.  I hope the dog fucker wins and legalized online poker. because that's one way I think I can make money.  I made like 5,000 dollars playing regular and online poker throughout high school and my first two years of college.  Then they criminalized it.  I could move to Canada or somewhere where it's legal, but who really wants to live in Canada?  Canadians?  Probably. 
    What was I talking about?  Oh yeah, poetry.  I'm going to end this entry with a poem.  I'll write it when I'm done with the entry.  Just to see how much on the up and up in poetry I am.  What the Hell, I'll write it now.



Winter's hand is cold to the touch
The lines I write don't matter much
You're still forced to read them, no
Matter what, and if you choose to stop
Now you won't see what's coming up,
Which is something so splendid that I
Can hardly describe, it's something so
Wonderful which cannot be denied.  That
Thing that will happen soon has got me
Excited, Just like pornography which I
Watch unabated, and just like my hands
With which I have mated, this poem will
Hold you till you're satiated.  The thing
That's so great that I previously described
Will be coming up soon, no, it won't be a
Lie, I've got to come up with something to
Meet the expectations, of which there are
None, yet still I feel some, from myself I
Suppose, but poems aren't about feelings,
Not feelings like those, poems are about
Staring into the human soul, of which we each
Have a piece, I'm thinking of you now as we
Get out of reach, I'm spiraling out of control
So to speak, my message has gone and now all
I'm left with is Screech, from Saved By The
Bell, a show I've never watched, but I know
All about it because I know about stuff, and
Instead of writing this poem I could have
Watched an episode of it, but instead I chose
To write a poem that equals shit, but that show
Isn't all that great in and of itself, it's just
About teenagers living in a teenage hell, acting
As if they were regular people, when in truth
They are actors, who are better than regular
People.  Don't believe me?  Look at your T.V.
Screen, they're more beautiful than any words
I could come up with, they're even more beautiful
Than a bottle of Sunkist, which is an orange soda.


    I needed to use the bathroom, and I figured that's a good place to end it.  See, if I wrote that in poetry class, I'd get at least a B, and I just wrote it in five minutes.  Poetry is the easiest shit ever.  I like actors.  I remember in 1997 I went on vacation to Florida, and part of it we were in Universal Studios, and I got to see Keenan and Kel rehearse.  Plus, while I was in Disney World, there was a dinner theater thing, and they chose me out of the crowd to be part of the thing at the end, where I pretended to shoot some guy, and then the lady I saved gave me a kiss on the cheek, and I had to act disgusted by it, wiping it away.  Plus I took an acting class in Queens College in 2010.  Acting good is hard.  It was easy when I was eight, but when I was 20 it was hard.  Too many insecurities built up in that time.  Anyway.  I started smoking Newports again.  I don't know why I felt like it, but I did.  At first the menthol was a shock to the system, but I got used to it.  I think I'll go back to Camel Blues next time.  In my acting class, I was taking a smoke break and I gave a girl in my acting class a cigarette, and she said that on the island she was from, all they smoked was Camel Blues.  I would have liked it better if she said, "On the island I'm from, all we smoke is dick," and then she'd take of my pants and it would turn into a hardcore porn scene.  I watch too much porn.  I'm pretty bored of it, but there's nothing else to do.  Anyway, see ya later.

-2:03 P.M. 



Monday, August 13, 2012

There'll Be Time For Titles Later

     Hi.  This is the second day in a row I wrote an entry.  I'm assuming.  I haven't written the entry yet.  But I've laid the groundwork out.  I've been having trouble sneezing lately.  I get right up to the climax, but I just can't complete it.  People don't care.  Think of other things to say.  I was talking to myself.  You can do it too.  You probably won’t, though.  You’d have to be pretty instinct driven to start thinking of things to say just based on one sentence you read on a website.  The news is bringing me down lately.  Way down, to Chinatown.  There’s a song called Chinatown by a band called Luna that’s good.  Check it out.  Or check it in!  I don’t know which one’s which, or how language works.  This is the world we live in.  Holy Moly.  Anyway, what’s the deal with people who wear green hats?  Are they all football fans?  Is Green a football team?  It should be.  Horace Green was a man, I think.  And Horace Mann was a Green.  YES I DID IT!  I SAID THE SECRET WORD OF THE DAY!  The secret word was “Yes.”  I kind of cheated.  I hope you don’t mind too much.  I would hate to be sitting next to someone who minds too much on a bus, or in a car, or on a bench, or at a movie theater, or on the couch, or while drinking café mocha at Starbucks.  If you mind too much, let me down easy.  I can’t handle it!!!  Anyway.  What else is going on in my neck of the woods?  Once, I went walking in the woods while reading Lolita, and I 100% felt like I was getting raped.  That’s a true story!  I was getting my just desserts, though.  Later times whenever I flipped through Lolita, I would always come to a line of dialogue where Lolita is saying, "Those are just like the moccasins I wanted."  I don't know why I flip through books instead of reading them page to page.  In my opinion, it just makes it easier for the book to rape you.  So watch out for that, flip-readers.
    Now, if you will, follow me into the second paragraph.  Oh man, we're in the shit now.  Is it 9/11 yet?  This year it will be 11 years.  11 years until 9/11/23.  And I'm 23 years old now, factor in the double slash, 91 and the 123, and you got yourself a math attack.  More like a meth attack!  I've never done meth.  There are so many drugs that I've never done.  I'm the boy in the plastic golden bubble.  Because I hear references to all these different drugs in songs and movies and such, but I've never done them.  Makes my brain hurt, because I can't comprehend what they're talking about.  Like, for example, Third Eye Blind's Semi Charmed Life references crystal meth.  I don't know what the hell that does!  Or Elliott Smith's St. Ives Heaven mentions amphetamines.  What the hell do those do?!  I feel so out of the loop.  And WE HAVE CANCER's I Smoke 100 Cigarettes A Day mentions something called, "Hydrogen Peroxide."  Where can I get my hands on those?!  I guess if it's in songs, it's half about the quality of the word and how it sounds, as it is about the true drug.  Becuase you gotta imagine a huge amount of the audience can't comprehend what the drug does.  Or maybe it's just the musicians way of encouraging the audience to experiment with drugs.  No music ever made me do drugs.  I started cigarettes in 2009, and during my first cigarette, I wrote a poem called Smoke, but that was my poem.  Arkansas. 
    What else be lurking in my mind?  I've been recording songs, still.  Crappy ones.  It's all I have to do in the morning and early afternoon, though.  Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were interested in my hobbies.  Now I realize I've been 'coming up tails,' so to speak, whenever I talk about my music, though.  It's okay.  One day I'm going to be good and front a band and you will all bow to my greatness.  My band name?  Seven of Diamonds.  We were going to call ourselves The Ace Of Spades, but that's already a song.  So we went with the only other card in the deck, the seven of diamonds.  Liquorish Sticks.  What else?  That's a good name for a band.  Not 'What Else,' but 'Liquorish Sticks,' because God damn if it doesn't.  It doesn't?  God damn.  I want to start a comic called "What's Your Name?" and each one will just be four panels of 4 different stick figures saying their name.  I have included episode one and two of this comic.

       Man, those were terrible.  But practice makes perfect.  Look out for future installments of "What's Your Name?" right here on crazysheet.net!  Gah.  That's from a song I'm working on.  It's a G chord, then an Ah chord.  It's like an Am (A Minor), but more serious.  Time to get serious.  What's the cornerstone of every great entry?  A great entry memorable quote.  Too bad I can't think of one.  Really woulda made that thought more complete.  Now it's incomplete.  If it was a class I took in college, it would be incomplete, like about half of my classes.  I'm an intellectual!  Man, college is coming up.  Gotta prepare.  Like, register for classes prepare.  I'm still not sure if I want to go to college, though.  My mind isn't up to par yet.  But I have two weeks to get in shape.  Mentally.  I'm already in a shape, physically.  Prepare yourself:  it's not a good one.  But it's better than those stick figures!  Man, those people really aren't shaped like regular people.  And that's putting it nicely!  I wonder if Vladamir Putin ever said something in a respectable way, and a newspaper captioned it, "Putin It Nicely!"  Probably not, because they speak Russian in Russia.  Plus, they don't know what an exclamation mark is.  There's this Elliott Smith song  called, "A Question Mark," and for the longest time I didn't know what it meant, until one day I figured out what a question mark was.  I could draw a picture for you, but it wouldn't do it justice. 
    Anyway, we're getting close to that time again.  4:06 P.M.  It's 4:05 now.  Less than a minute to go.  But we're also getting close to the end of the entry.  I hope it filled you with joy and cheer.  Or at least boy and beer.  Or maybe coy and leer.  Perhaps Doy and Clear.  Maybe Soy and Veer.  Possibly Annoy and Fear.  Or possibly Roy and Steer.  Another possibility is Troy and Year.  I'm getting tired of all these possibilities.  I've proven to you I can rhyme.  In my book, I'm glad, that's an entry well done.  Still gotta write the second half of this paragraph.  I'm not really sure what makes it a paragraph.  This is tough work.  It's funny because none of it matters.  By the way, who's your favorite Roman Emperor?  Mine's Julius Caesar, with Augustus a close second.  Tell me yours?  Anyway.  Why is the last guy's face a star.  That doesn't make sense.  Oh well.  There's no turning back now.  Baby try to understand.  I'm not trying to break your heart, I'm trying to give your heart a break.  I know you're scared is wrong, like you might make a mistake.  Anyway.  That's from a popular music song.  It smells like cigarettes in my room.  Probably on account of the cigarettes I've been smoking.  I blame you.  I blame Nyquil "The Maniac" St. Charles.  He never did anything wrong, he just answered when he was asked what his name was.  Don't get on his case for being a sport.  Goodbye.

-4:13 P.M.