The Straying Thoughts. Vol. I

Monologues are so greasy because all you really wanna do is let your emotions pore out into your typing and than when its finished and you try to read it out loud it sounds like a broken man’s thoughts about trivial events of his life and it sounds whiney and polished and sterile.

But maybe its the single fact that the very reason that some of the events in your life are trivial, and yet so annoying, and ironic and anger and cringe inducing that the best way that you can cope with your life would be to realize that life is made up of all things, including on a much grander scale, trivial, boring, disgusting and painful things.     

That's why you laugh at it. If life throws a good amount of suffering your way, why do you dwell on the trivial shit and let it bring down your entire life?! Horrible shit will happen to you in your life that will truly disgust and shame you and change you for the worse. so until those things happen (which isn’t nearly as often as a lot of us make it out to be): how funny is it that last night your explosive diarrhea scorched onto the side of the toilet bowl so hardcore that you had to go at it with a Brillo pad for a second to get it off. sonic boom baby. Sonic Boom.

Hugh Carol Smokes his second to last cigarette.

Hugh Carol stood on the stoop of his building in the Doorsky district of Chicago and he was smoking a cigarette when he realized that he was very much indeed addicted to cigarettes and could no longer smoke them. He would miss the break they give him for his thoughts. The wave of calm that washes over him on a warm spring night with lightening bugs bedazzling© the concrete porch around him. He would also miss the conversation of a good friend that can come with a cigarette on the porch. The brothers-in-armsesque© closeness that comes from already being such a foul (and at times foul smelling) reject of society.

he looked up, didn’t think about his bank account. He took a drag of his cigarette. He didn't think about how dirty his keyboard was getting, that he’d need to wipe it down because he’d been typing so much that little nasty caked on skin had formed on the h, y, x, v, b, n, j, 7, and for some weird reason that he couldn't really comprehend, the q button. How the hell did his q button get dirty?! He wasn’t in to any quintuplet porn or anything... quotes? Queens College? Other terms down the list when he typed qu into the search bar of a certain googantuain search engine he can’t name? 

No he didn’t think about that shit when he smoked his cigarette. He wasn’t thinking about his good friend Avaram Cherokee 3500 miles away in Fargo North Dakota right now, nor the impossible time that he is having completing his schoolwork and graduating from that school so that he can get the fuck out of there. Hugh did miss the man dearly, he acknowledged, whilst not thinking about him.

He took another drag. It was starting to get warmer. He was wearing shorts and a sweatshirt even though he had to pace back and forth to keep acclimated to the windchill but he didn’t fucking care at the moment because he was smoking his fucking cigarette and he had his fucking shit figured out. Fuck everything, he thought. Fuck the god-dammed world to the mother-fucking ground.He wasn’t going to think about the future for another inch and a half and it was going to rock his fucking world.

And when he was done with that, he was going to quit. And it would save him money and then he would start to...(continued ad nausea for another two to three minutes).

July 18th, 2008. Central Park, Manhattan. 3:06 pm

The point is... thats what happened to me on salvia.

30 SECONDS EARLIER...

The first time I did Salvia, it was in central park. I was with three of my friends and I smokled a full bowl to my face.

It was sort of rude, but I fell to the ground and I melted into the trees. I became one of the tree people, who I found out were governed by the fairies and I became one of the fairies and the fairies eventually made me their fairy queen. I was as tall as the trees, and I was looking down around me and seeing the world and the park and just saying “whoah...this is cool.”

The fairies eventually made me their fairy queen, did I mention that?

A group of fairies did eventually band together and then they usurped me as fairy queen. They cast me down back into the human world and banned me from their fairy kingdom.

At which point I came down from my high. This lasted all of five minutes.

- Lynn Madison, P.S.

THURSDAY.

If you ever eat food from a popular American fast food chain, lets call it Ivory Fortress.


It tastes shitty. But if yer supes hungry than it'll do ya good.

But all of your farts the next day will smell EXACTLY like the same fuckin' food BEFORE YOU FUCKING ATE IT THE NIGHT BEFORE!!! it smells faintly tasty if yer hungry after 6 hours from work but then YOU REMEMBER ITS A FART. Furthermore, that also means that the food you ate last night kind of tasted like FUCKING FARTS MAN. I ATE SIX FUCKING FART SLIDERS LAST NIGHT.

I'm probably not goin' back to Ivory Fortress again.

An Hour in the Life: Hugh Carol's color commentary of a silent documentary.

********A Note to readers. the following is a semi-transcripted post of an everyman's opinions while watching a documentary film, and while the post is hopefully pretty funny, its SUPERFLY to read while watching the movie.
      
      But the flick is kind of hard to get so good luck lookin...( http://www.torrents.to/ ) But listen, and I need to get kind of serious for a second so bear with me.  you don't know me if you get caught. you know, you don't knoooow me?!? Seriously don't tell anyone though because I will probably go to jail in a heartbeat with my record of a uh...well lets just call it an illegal human smuggling operation where I tried to make some extra cash. Can't get much more specific then that but well, lets just also say I'm wanted for murder by two racial gangs in every prison in the tri-state area. 
       
       The aryans at Sing Sing especially. The Leader of the chapter there, Lester Carbunkle, he's actually my uncle on my moms side. which is fucked up right. I mean even besides the fact that my semi distant (but not distant enough) relative has a price on my head, even more importantly: my mothers full name is Caroline Carol-Carbunkle. Thats with her maiden name attached because Caroline Carol would be super annoying! 


"Carol Carol whats up!" 
"Who's goin' to the movie? um, Emma winger, Franny Ford, Carol Carol, Carol Carloftes. teehee."


      I shit you not. My mother Caroline Carbunkle married Christopher Hughes Carol. and on an unusually rainy evening in 1976, wind tapping and rattling gently at the window pains of Scottsdale memorial hospital, we found our hero steadily pacing back and forth in the waiting room, a pink cigar in one hand and in the other a glassful of scotch with a polished wedding ring-ed finger gripping a cuban, lovingly adorned with a velvet blue hand tied ribbon. And thats when the nurse burst in and said 


"You're a dad!!! Hugh Delacroix Carol Carbunkle!!!"


And you know what it turns out it was a fuckin Boy! IT WAS A BOOOYYY!!!


Man I'll bet that scotch was good.
your welcome pop. i was totally the fastest swimmer!


    Anyways just please remember the whole Aryan sing sing thing with my uncle who wants to kill me and don't rat. and  please enjoy the movie while you read the actual blog post. I'm sorry for the long ass note to preface it but I just want us all to be clear so we can enjoy this magical movie experience together! So Please enjoy the third and final installment of  Godfrey Reggio's thrilling musical documentary opus "Naqoyqatsi" (pronounced nah-koy-kotsy!) and have a great evening!


H¢ 

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____NOQOYQATSI  __a film by Godfrey Reggio. 89 minutes. Rated PG for mild thematic violence.


00:00-07:42 -- Watchin' A crazy documentary. Showing beautiful panoramic shots of abandoned and neglected buildings.I think that abandoned buildings are the saddest thing in the world. I wanna write a blog about it, the plight of humanity and eco-friendly ways to rebuild societies instead of abandon them.


07:42-09:20 -- The scene just fuckin' changed to a shitty fuckin ass early nineties level CGI shot (like polygonal or some shit) of a pyramid rising up from the sand and after the scene changes to a shitty special effects shot of people on a crowded city street in x-ray vision ("wow we all have the same skeletons inside all of us! murderers and child rapists and cops in the city of Flagstaff Arizona alike!). The music blows too, fuck this shit I'm just gonna write somethin' in the foreword of this commentary instead of actually watching the movie. I can tell its gonna suck ass anyway.




  

JACK BARER (an ad for a new bar)

We are Jack Barer. We believe in the power of rock and roll. We love guitars. We abhor homophobia. If we have to kill for our nations safety we know we can.  We hate hetero-phobia too. We enjoy a cold beer. We cannot abide a mean drunk. We don’t get organized religion. 

We here at the jack Barer adore disco. We despise racism. We cannot respect disrespectful behavior. We do not condone “velvet ropes.” We do not care who is a celebrity and who is not. We can be silly. We kind of understand Republicans. We wing it. We try to obey traffic laws. We do believe variety is the spice of life. We do not enjoy excessive profanity. Damn it. We think we’re Ginger, but we’re really Mary Anne. We love a parade. We would like to see Bush and Cheney brought to court. We are Jack Barer Goddamn it.  Love it or leave it. We can tolerate a happy drunk but not a sloppy drunk. We do not like shrill voices, especially indoors. We are happy to open the door for you. We love a good martini. We only have 24 hours. We sometimes fall down. We admire musicians. We are regrettably distrustful of arabs. We enjoy a night on the town. We think we all need more exercise. We skinny dip. We love L.A. and we heart N.Y.(!!!). We’re more partial to scruff. We miss our dearly departed friends and family. We look forward to making new friends and family. We like to travel and are ready to defend our borders from the forces of tyranny at all costs. We love coming home to Jack Barer.

http://www.akbarsilverlake.com/ ----->awesome post for a bar in L.A.

Your Porn Star Name.

For anybody out there who for some reason or other craves anonymity, start with an alias. At first glance it seems easy; just think of the first name that comes to your head and go with it. the problem is that this method usually leads to the most bland and trite names on the planet. "Hi im john (bob/joe) Smith (Newheart/Schmoe)." So for those of us who need their alias' to become heroes, to do good and fight the forces of evil, for those of us that use alias' (aliases? Aleei? aliass?) in order to satiate an unhealthy yearning to sway society and move mountains, why not be a guy with a huge cock.
Why not be a chick with some tig ol' bitties and an AWESOME ping pong ball trick. What better confidence booster than to be someone who has sex hundreds, if not THOUSANDS of times a year.You'll have swaggering power over every obstacle that gets in your way!
So just use your middle name as a first name, use the name of the street you first grew up on (or a street nearby, I don't wanna get a bunch of comments saying it doesn't work because your name would be Thomas 33 Ave.!!!) And blammo, You're ready to change the world.

So from your humble public servant Hugh Carol,
I bid yall adeux.



------------FOOTNOTE-------------------------------------

in reference to this entire post - (sp?)