Matter-Man

I've been coming to this site for 'iconz' since I was 13, so why not?

I can't stand being stuck between 'is' and 'was' so I am forcing myself to stop being suspended.

"Man was matter, that was Snowden's secret. Drop him out a window and he'll fall. Set fire to him and he'll burn. Bury him and he'll rot, like other kinds of garbage. That was Snowden's secret. Ripeness was all."

Goodbye my lover:
xanga.com/funky_fire

All Around Us #3
“I love this Indian shit, it’s so exotic, y’know, it’s so exotic with all the spice and shit. It’s good. How come Americans never discovered spice? Pizza. I scoff at pizza. Hot Dogs. Pasta. Hamburgers. We steal from other countries and remove the spice, y’know, so it fits in with the background.”
“The background?”
“Like a city with numbered streets. Blake and shit.”
“Blake?”
“I wander through each chartered street and mark in every face I meet dead people with shuffling feet and shit.”
“London.”
“Yep.”
“This isn’t London.”
“But this Indian shit is fucking awesome.”
“Yea.”
“I found myself in a roll. Chapatti and chick peas. With this green spicy stuff. Man, that hits it!”
“You’re vegetarian now?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“No dead souls coursing through my veins. I’m already fucked up as it is, I don’t want anyone else’s fucked up shit dictating my life.”
“Oh. Okay then.”
“Fucked up people become vegetarian.”
“And vegans?”
“Veganism is for the fashionable. Veganism is cool, y’know, for the cool cats. I’m done, you?”
“Let’s go.”
“Where’s my coat? … I love this city.”
“Weren’t you just complaining about the numbered streets?”
“Well look. Hmm .. her! Look at her!”
“The bag lady with the trolley?”
“The bag lady with the trolley.”
“She’s looking through the trash.”
“She's searching for the place where she went wrong.”
“Okay then.”
“People everywhere have nowhere to go, so they go anywhere—with or without the tide.”
“God knows this city never sees the tide.”
“And we’re all stuck because of it. We’re stuck in our heads and killing ourselves from the insides out ... Her! With the tattoos!”
“The Chinese characters?”
“Yes! They say ‘my heart, my hell’”
“How do you say that in Chinese?”
“I don’t speak Chinese.”
“Okay then.”
“I can pretend can't I? I’m fucked up as it is. Can’t I pretend that the world is more magical than it is?”
“Okay then.”
“Okay then. Fuck you. In fact the world is full of magic. I see it. Do you, fucker? There is magic in the trees and in the red brick walls and black chewing gum from yesteryear, asshole. There is life, the memory of life. I was here, I was fucking here! That’s what all these stuck people are saying. I was here, I was fucking here, remember me when I am gone. I suffered here.”
“Like a soldier.”
“No not like a fucking soldier! They are saying ‘I was fucking here and I suffered not like a soldier. I didn’t have commands or rules or tactics or plans. I had this. My mind. This. My heart. This. My instinct, my gut. And they fought each other like three cats in a bag. I was fucking here with three fucking cats scratching under my skin and I suffered too much to be forgotten.’”
“We are all suffering.”
“I was here. I was here. Put your message on the wall. I was here.”

If you want an introduction, go to my facebook or my (dead) myspace. But this one is the journal - take your pick.