tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9856883566487664802011-08-01T18:01:16.193-04:00it's all lies. trust me.misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.comBlogger401100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-38197191560111165692009-05-26T03:34:00.002-04:002009-05-26T03:47:28.575-04:00

writer's block is starting to set in for the first time in almost 6 months and panic lead to a cigarette break which lead to me realizing that when i can't write anything, it's because i'm not being honest with myself about my state of mind, of being.i'm ignoring responsibility. i'm ignoring heartbreak. i'm ignoring possibility. i'm ignoring disappointment. i'm ignoring failure. i'm ignoring

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-63215023013701696682009-03-30T03:11:00.001-04:002009-03-30T03:13:01.109-04:00

"These are my principles; if you don't like them, I have others."~ Groucho Marx

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-4899257444076755752009-02-06T11:13:00.001-05:002009-02-06T11:13:42.215-05:00

"I hope you feel nicer"Baby boy, blue eyes; andbeauty stopped by on the doorstep.Came by, "au revoir, good night, goodtimes... "Age is heavy, sometimes, like a coat, and for what we knowwe hide in our deepest pocketsa shattered watch with a disabled, swinging latchfrom that moment, those moments, time, chance,and redemptionflew away from usdefeated by the sound of Earth.We are the harrow upon

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-13456977971307836872008-10-15T02:28:00.003-04:002008-10-15T02:37:02.301-04:00

1.) it gives you boundaries, so you can wrangle in your existence2.) self-importance3.) everybody should know how you feel and why you feel the way you feel because you're good enough, you're smart enough, and doggonit, people should like you4.) easier to decipher than a graph or pie chart5.) truth needs an outlet

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-78480875709365105512008-10-15T02:22:00.002-04:002008-10-15T02:27:24.623-04:00

political enthusiasts (attention whores)ink pen caps that pull the off bottom tab so that you can't put the cap back onthe News (FOXnews, especially)breadbitches that be naggin'

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-65661017366227338372008-10-14T20:03:00.003-04:002008-10-15T02:27:51.599-04:00

airshorts with pockets (why would you make anything without pockets!!! except shirts, that's tacky)showersjohnny cash cdsrice

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-62259567716476689852008-09-09T21:41:00.006-04:002008-09-09T22:10:55.317-04:00

I've decided I'm going to write a million songs in my last semester before i have to graduate and "get a job" as all those "responsible" people like to put it. I just pray it won't all be crap.Any ideas for a job with a creative writing degree with no experience? "Welcome to LIlly's! Would you like vegan pizza sauce?"check the myspace for a new song. if it's not up today it'll probably be up

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-90447512344015181172008-07-26T01:04:00.003-04:002008-07-26T01:09:18.456-04:00

so i have finally grown big enough cajones to record a song and lame enough to finally myspace it.http://www.myspace.com/dmxiongin two weeks, the 4901 sessions begin with the visit of the astute Clay Misenheimer.

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-68547025610746005722008-06-16T00:48:00.000-04:002008-06-16T00:49:15.987-04:00

i've been lazy.

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-56256019440181154072008-04-18T03:19:00.001-04:002008-04-18T03:19:43.450-04:00

halloweeni remember holding hands andhating it. my mother wouldpoint to the next house, and my oldersister would slide the van door, and we would dart outlike some vast battalion, shedding our shieldhand at the helm of our swords, sometimesliterally, and we had already conquered our greatestfears, the gauntlet had been vanquished, before our toesbent the blades of evening dew, and our arms wide

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-36132514954188431572008-04-18T03:07:00.001-04:002008-04-18T03:14:12.270-04:00

the death of an answerbided time with my toothpickshe was right,life moves much too quickfor the slow of witand i think i saw a fly movebehind her head, drawing breathsunder armpit-wingpit... what must beoverwhelmingly identifiedin time, i supposeshe saw mestaring over her headand muttered something like, "ridiculous"or "ostensive"-ly something good,but not so, much moreas it landed in her

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-70427486898857044382008-04-18T03:04:00.000-04:002008-04-18T03:06:06.095-04:00

casablancawasted, awaythe yellowreminds meof this oldclownfellow, whoknocked on our doorwhen i was a kid, sellingtricks, a dance, a befuddledjig, like a plate of fruitcocktailabout toslipmy mother always yelled at us fortalkingto himbut these aremyteeth. my blinkingexistence. my loosebulbin the arch above somepeeling pathlinoleumcurleduplike somedyinghand's grasp, whenwhat is there leftto

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-22104407273341974732008-04-18T02:49:00.004-04:002008-04-18T03:03:02.623-04:00

frivolous; is agood wordthere is a kingdomdestinedto smite usall. the pauper, the prince, the girlat the grocery storecounter who wears a golden crossupon her apron, subservient for the meansof good will, and good faith.(Amen)she needs no Daedalus, noulterior denouement, only what is,what has been, and what willultimately be.but --- here;the liars and the cheats;everything labeled and shelved

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-91670130482313057292008-04-12T12:38:00.003-04:002008-04-12T12:50:11.845-04:00

"In ancient times, people's hearts were direct and straightforward. Because their hearts were direct, their actions were simple, and because things were simple, the words they spoke also were uncomplicated. When emotions rose up in their hearts, they would put them into words and would sing, and they called this "poetry" [uta}. When they sang, they did so directly and with a single heart.

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-53520775724069778402008-04-07T17:22:00.002-04:002008-04-07T17:22:53.672-04:00

today i successfully played a bar chord in the midst of a progression. i can die happy now.

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-1852713470374622472008-04-04T06:18:00.001-04:002008-04-04T06:18:53.158-04:00

gumption. that's a good word.

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-68703435463930830482008-04-03T19:15:00.004-04:002008-04-03T19:35:58.671-04:00

I can only write 11 things each month. (see side panel for cosmic reference)I just received notice I've been published in this year's edition of the NC State's Windhover Literary Arts Magazine. It only took me six years and a few minutes of intense motivation for me to click that 'send' button.Grab a free copy if you can (it is free).I also got a song put on their audio CD which I shall go

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-65456467595449174122008-03-17T13:20:00.003-04:002008-03-17T19:45:38.186-04:00

Paul dragged an axe and left a canyon.I have dragged myself and -time, is a novel ideawhen you're running out of it.---

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-85484056244231486552008-02-19T22:12:00.003-05:002008-02-19T22:14:50.934-05:00

expectationsunder the skin itchesalarm clocks/clocks in generalmelted ice creamParis Hilton

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-58558133284499691072008-02-18T01:20:00.002-05:002008-02-18T01:24:29.009-05:00

treesstarlightprocreation (the act of, not the consequence of)breakfast cerealirony

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-53838715049087626732008-02-18T01:13:00.008-05:002008-02-18T12:51:34.703-05:00

in no particular order:the fountain penthe acoustic instrumentthe shuriken/ninja starthe cartoon/comichappy endingsversus someone (he who's name cannot be spoken or written or read) else's list:jet packpencilcoffee percolatortire swingMolotov cocktail

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-22128442750116208642008-02-15T01:02:00.003-05:002008-02-15T01:03:08.579-05:00

taller. Seriously!

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-33277624527705238332008-02-15T00:42:00.002-05:002008-02-15T00:43:24.032-05:00

i put my shirt on backwards today-- all daywithout thinking; except for, it fits better today.---i watched young boys the age of men purchase grocery storeconveniences to celebrate a mysterious notion best acknowledged vialimp, inanimate stitched socks and suede, and card stock;the cologne's waiting at home. let me say i love you in a balloon, or two?ten minutes 'til dinner with her. two birds,

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-4554195889645754182008-02-14T02:38:00.000-05:002008-02-14T02:39:00.532-05:00

sleep in.

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-88502523188874733432008-02-14T02:37:00.000-05:002008-02-14T02:38:14.815-05:00

bake cookies.

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-50462578903364042392008-02-13T02:07:00.001-05:002008-02-13T02:10:43.769-05:00

take longer walks on the beach.

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-45297161548069264512008-02-11T22:50:00.002-05:002008-02-15T00:47:05.404-05:00

sitting on the toilet.

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-37359856434945579422008-02-07T23:49:00.001-05:002008-02-15T02:03:10.094-05:00

what do you do as a writer when you realize there is a single, obvious motif in all of your writing that you never originally planned?mine = identity crisisyours? = ... please tell me so i don't feel so alone?I don't know who I am!So today (Thursday) my first real article appeared in the Technician. They cut 2/3 of it and labeled it as part one of two.Now I understand that whole "

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-50251169863944036012008-02-04T15:38:00.000-05:002008-02-07T23:46:29.762-05:00

R.O.D. - I hate bloggin'.Doesn't the word sound like some sex fetish?OH HOLY SHIT I JUST SAW STINKYPANTS32. Poor kid. Turns out he was the normal roommate. I can't tell if he has a hump or osteoporosis. I can tell, however, that I am a horrible human being.On to nicer things.Did you know in the Hopi language, there are no words for time? Words like "minute," "second," "now," and "then"

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-25408464744733749822008-01-29T01:56:00.000-05:002008-01-29T02:37:41.121-05:00

inspired by The Dog Pillow BookDangerous Thingsbeautiful, stupid peoplesecretsneedles in haystacksRon Paulpeople who want to "talk to you about something"socks filled with bars of soap/changeAmerica's Foreign Policycredit/debit cardsWikipediacheap toilet papersingularly sold hot wings dubbed "insanity" that cannot be purchased until a waiver has been signed which dictates possible internal and

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-41297140190997958802008-01-27T23:41:00.000-05:002008-01-27T23:48:41.508-05:00

turning the last page in a bookvanilla ice creamsupermanan impromptu day offa new song nobody knows aboutfrench onion dipcalvin & hobbesan inside jokea cup of hot jasmine teathe "Hot" sign at Krispy Kreme

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-38854895899001678692008-01-25T13:19:00.000-05:002008-01-25T13:20:36.222-05:00

Today I got a fortune cookie with no fortune inside.WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!?!

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-71481724750584663052008-01-23T23:32:00.000-05:002008-01-23T23:34:08.473-05:00

i found this in a saved document from years ago. i don't understand it's significance, but i like it.---- Having fallen asleep on a sheet of paper annus mirabilis - latin for a wonderful year

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-25922747058756921432008-01-23T01:33:00.000-05:002008-01-23T01:53:36.837-05:00

R.O.D. - I HATE CATS. FOREVER. AND EVER. AND EVER.A foreword apology to those who may be offended.People always say you have to win a cat's love. wtf? They also say you don't have to with a dog because dogs are stupid, or lazy, or automatically subservient due to eons of inbreeding. I don't know, fill in your own blank, but why would you want to win a cat's love?(This is a bad analogy.)

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-88552797262807410202008-01-16T22:02:00.000-05:002008-01-16T22:25:30.591-05:00

R.O.D - The zipper, seriously, is one of the most amazing inventions ever. Think about it.I am not high right now. Just very cold.

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-59688859147899146382008-01-09T12:55:00.000-05:002008-01-09T12:57:42.794-05:00

R.O.D. - I need to grow a beard for the sole purpose of sexual prowess.

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-42175987329027224752008-01-08T03:02:00.000-05:002008-01-09T12:58:12.497-05:00

R.O.D. - Yellow looks good on me.

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-40510978456675972542008-01-07T02:39:00.000-05:002008-01-07T03:20:52.569-05:00

This year, instead of New Year resolutions (which confess retrogression, but I'm perfect, come on), I will end each day with a revelation (in the hopes of ballooning my ego to a gargantuan, untameable, feral beast; like a man... bear... pig... hybrid).I was inspired to write something down after reading old blog entries. I noticed my constant revelation was that I am fudged up. I am never

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-5375517436267747422008-01-07T00:05:00.000-05:002008-01-07T03:37:15.390-05:00

The BeatInhalation and exaltation;to beat; to breathe; to usurp a mighty thing--vivre la permanence.Time began as a morsel, in hands, in lieu of corporeality,nowhere at all. Comprehension then, must (must it?)begin somewhere-- mon frère.The Dickinson Dash, the Melville Mash, the Whitman Waltz,and the Rimbaud Rumba. Oh dear... the shirt fits but the collar's too small. You might have to stick

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985688356648766480.post-91853250917941306152008-01-06T02:32:00.001-05:002008-02-14T21:52:38.867-05:00

This is an exercise in speaking truth."P&P"The blogspot is an exercise. Or chore?To write is to store-- clean, superfluous, nitrogens and oxygens, in hand;Here you go. This is new. This is for you. This is for ubiquity;Efficiency, anarchy, and quiet;progress is measured in punk rock merit.Save room for the delusional, there are few, as you well know,worthy enough to follow.And we--we are

misterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16930516588057220006noreply@blogger.com0