?

Log in

Will you touch me [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
The Jesse train

[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ archive | journal archive ]

Gluttons, Lusters, and other deadly sinners [Feb. 3rd, 2005|09:26 pm]
The Jesse train
This looks like alotta of fun. Like eating cheetos with your toes. So even though no one reads this, I still want you all to respond. Because I am a human, like Jesus and Hitler.

1. Reply with your name and
I will write something about you.

2. I will then tell what song(s) remind
me of you.

3. Next, I will tell you who you remind me of,
celebrity/animated or otherwise.

4. Last, I will try to name a single
word that best describes you.

5. Put this in your journal
link11 comments|post comment

four hundred footsteps later, [Aug. 14th, 2004|09:44 pm]
The Jesse train
[mood |rejectedrejected]
[music |im not telling]

I found myself elbow deep in maple syrup. Im not a pancake, I tenaciously pondered. But if i was, id be delicious. And so ends this chapter.

I have three gods. One who loves me. On who hates me. And one who doesnt give a shit. I wonder which one is real.

Plowingly, I remember a time where addition and subtraction were commonplace. A time when lassos were golden and friendships never hit iceburgs. Im not an athlete but I wear pajamas.

Chapter 4. If you havent been counting, this is chapter 4.

5.

"Jane Fonda" she politely whispered into my hacked off ear which she held like a telephone.

The old man sat pillowing like a frantic horsefly in his rocking chair. He always believed in bigger and better things. In finding true happiness. In the perfect triangle. Nonetheless, goes the retort in its usual tangent, his fireplace was just there for show. For he lived in the ocean where fireplaces had long since been extinct.

Keeping track I hope.

Human. Look at me human.

The dust settled. And everyone began taking pictures of everything. Interrogatively, without pictures were just a bunch of savages.

Its a bloody mess in there. I mean it is your pulmonary artery and all. And that chapter is that.

Some people have stories. Others have memories of their dead pet. While others just stare blankly into their blanket. Me, I am a shape-shifting magnet of destruction, waiting in your garbage disposal so please dont use it.

Fluffy, Fluffy, Fluffy. Humans are just guts and boogers. Except for the three stooges. Damn were they funny.

I think ive lost track.

Nevermind.

Broken bones accentuate your eyes. They are beautiful. The old man continued to think his binomial was actually a polynomial. Man what a doofus.

Chapter 17. The chicken has flown the coup. Shoot his ass down.

18. The Chapter before the final Chapter. My mom was always telling me to clean up my esophagus, take out the liver, and do the small intestine. She was a fucking bitch but man could she cook.

Just kidding that was the final chapter.

Or was it?
link1 comment|post comment

rationality begets the pressure of an ice cube [Aug. 3rd, 2004|01:20 am]
The Jesse train
[mood |chipperchipper]
[music |nuclear holocaust]

We went for milkshakes. You know the kind. Frivolous, Delicate, Unwavering, Empowering. The man stapled all his fingers together. How? I dont know. Ive got a few theories but nothing solid. Ya thats a good milkshake. You know the kind. Like watching your dog die. Im a human in a bottle. After the milkshakes we headed to the pond to feed some ducks. You know the kind. Astute, Chraming, Bi-lateral, Asinine. Symobollicaly, theres no better friend than your telescope. No not that telescope silly. Gosh. We ended up swimming nude in the pond with the nude ducks and nude fish and nude water. It was here we found the depths of particles gone berzerk. Entrophy first. Follow of course by Deonduissm. Then Artisilation. Finally, Cannibalism. Gods greatest gift to humans was the ability to eat each other. Systematically, gravity doesnt make sense. Its really hard to take a talking armchair seriously since everyone is dead and all. Because death smells funny. Death uses your toothbrush. Death drinks your soda. Death flicks your ear. Death leaves a grey milky residue. Death leaves the tv on. Death has a heart. And then we kissed underneath the mistletoe. You know the kind. Diabolical. Tentative. Pragmatic. Arbitrary. I want to be hpynoized to never be hypnotized again. If you listen closely. I mean really closely. You can hear the stagnant hum whispering


your daughter,
is cannon fodder
link3 comments|post comment

cement walls are candy to me... [Aug. 1st, 2004|05:02 am]
The Jesse train
[mood |discontentdiscontent]
[music |merzbow]

....unless youre caught with your pants down in the cellar of your basements grandma. Im trapped in this undertow weaving my web of honesty and kindness.
Abraham Lincoln, Im calling your ass out.
Love is cutting yourself with a dull knife.
This chicken tastes like meat.
This burnt rubber smells like broken promises.
Disaster strikes when cooking breakfast.
Blankets are a mans best friend.
Have you ever really been cold?
A gentlemans reply always ends in "However."
Tornados do not have feelings.
Brick walls do have feelings; watch what you say.
Apostrophe, Colon, Period, Question Mark.
Equations are not equal.
My destination resembles your hand in mine.
The cowboys last word was not "help."
My last word was indeed "help."
Opinions kill people.
Talk may be cheap but im broke.
My favorite salad dressing is blood.
Id like to touch you hair at least once.
The banjo makes me smile.
Thunder makes me cry.
Totalitarian dictators always look good in blue.
Beginings are just endings in disguise.
"Oh well" said the forgotten sheep.
If i told you how i really felt, ahh fuck it...ill never tell you.
linkpost comment

The revolution™ will be televised [Jul. 20th, 2004|05:37 pm]
The Jesse train
[mood |rejuvenatedrejuvenated]
[music |oh canada]

and after a brutal bidding war, nike will win all the rights for full endorsement. The revolution™ will be aired during primetime as not to interfere with your work schedule or disrupt the market in any way. The revolution™, rated tv-y7, will become a family event. The revolution™ will happen right before their eyes as they gather around for dinner.. Each revolutionary will be sponsored and they will wear their logo with pride. The revolution™ is futile without sponsorship. The revolution™ cant be escaped: TV ads, magazine covers, billboards, photo shoots, guest spots on leno, T-shirts, shoes, lunchboxes, coffee mugs, ball point pens, neckties, floormats, condoms, bobbleheads, diapers, air freshners, beach balls, pot holders, baseball cards, shoelaces, male-enhancement pills, stationary, toilet paper, band-aids, coasters, canned soup, money clips, and video games. The revolution™ will be approved by the attorny general and the FDA. The revouluion™ will not fail. The revolution™ will succede. The revolution™ will be invited to your dinner parties. The revolution™ will be talked about at water coolers. The revolution™ will be addressed as sir or madame. The revolution™ will promote the Atkins diet. The revolution™ will believe in God™. The revolution™ will be accepted by God™. The revolution™ will take care of pets when you go on vacation. The revolution™ will have a high sperm count. The revolution™ cannot be stopped. The home viewer can become part of the revolution™ by calling in and voting for their favorite revolutionary. The revolution™ will include everyone. The winning revolutionary will overthrow the government in a multi-million dollar produced spectacle. The revolution™ will work. And finally we will have change. True, unadulerted, pure change. And the ratings will be through the roof.
link3 comments|post comment

Tuesday. February 10. 1885 [Jul. 18th, 2004|04:28 am]
The Jesse train
[mood |thoughtfulthoughtful]
[music |pitter....patter.....pitter.....patter]

This boat is my tombstone and this journal is my epiphany. The sea is handsome tonite. The mood resembles a grinning octopus. She also resembles a grinning octopus. I wonder if theres some kind of correlation. Hair follicles dont have feelings like the humans theyre attached too. Thats why I never became a barber. Im a seaman, bound to my ship, bound to my sword, bound to my honor. This pen is running out of ink. I shouldnt be wasting words like this. Writing without purpose or cause while the ink slowly trickles away. If only I had something important to write. Got it. The ocean is sinking. I feel it as the waves make love to each other in some kind of sadomassochist ritual. Im growing weary. I can hear the ocean breeze enter one ear and exit the other. The pale sun continues to follow, showing no signs of fatigue. I had a dream I was antarctica. When youre antarctica you have alot of time to think. And I did alot of thinking. Every galaxy has its earth, Ive concluded. On this earth are single-celled organisms that think theyre multi-celled organisms. Im losing ink fast. Its hemorraging and my words only enhance the wound. The shapeless blood is everywhere awkwardly immobile. Shameless. AWAKEN.

Wednesday. January 08. 7680
How can I sleep. The end of the universe. I feel it burning my nostrils. When we find it. Tell me more. Underneath the sand is more sand. Do you see. I see. What does that mean. Its a trick. No its not. Then what. Its the universe. Embrace me. Whos dying. I am. Me too. Okay. Goodbye.
link3 comments|post comment

brownies are delicious... [Jul. 16th, 2004|03:44 am]
The Jesse train
[mood |nostalgicnostalgic]
[music |my wall]

....and im not talking about the baked chocolate treat. Im going to move into a treehouse and throw water balloons at squirls. I'll learn every bird by name and then confuse their names on purpose so they think i dont remember their names. Then ill fucking kill everyone one of them. Then ill hunt you down and tell you im gonna kill you. Youll cry and beg for your life and piss your pants and ill say "aprils fools" with a jolly smile on my face. When you let out a sigh of relief ill stab you 18 times in the pancreas while humming ode to joy. Then ill stick two pencils in my nose and pretend im your fat walrus mother. I'll go to her room and stab her eyes out with my dick and tell her im her husband. Then I'll make sweet love to the bitch and shell cook me breakfast in bed while I read the new york times in my underwear. I'll assume the identity of your dad and go around raping various appliances and children. Ill feed ducks bread covered razor blades and throw the plastic 6 pack holders into the ocean so sea turtles choke and drown. Then ill fucking kick in your sand castle that you spent 45 minutes on. Then ill get eaten by a tyrannasuraus rex from the future.


Meanwhile....
Says the fish to the sea, "Things arent how I expected. She told me everything will be allright. Everything isnt allright. Why isnt everything allright?"

Says the sea to the fish, "Stop swimming in me."
link2 comments|post comment

Its getting pretty lonely in this cryogenic chamber.............. [Jul. 15th, 2004|02:51 am]
The Jesse train
[mood |discontentdiscontent]
[music |toby keith - shocking yall]

I want to hold you like a saxophone
I want to touch you like a calculator
I want to feel you like a coconut
I want to chew you like a now-and-later
link3 comments|post comment

in hale ex hale in hale ex hale [Jul. 7th, 2004|02:04 am]
The Jesse train
[mood |sadsad]
[music |dirt]

who really uses a fucking toaster anymore?? maybe as a fasion statement, but thats it....I mean come its not the fucking 90s. Were not fucking cavemen and women. Get out of your chair and go comb your hair. Her marble eyes. Her brown eyes. Tremendous in color, in depth, in hibernation. I stare at them when they peak away hoping to catch an unsuspecting glance. I feel like a whale in plankton. She descends upon me like tuberculosis. I sit with my eyes closed clenching my fists. If i had a dragon id name him Esteben and move to france. But i dont own any fucking dragon. I dont even own a goldfish. So im stuck with those eyes penetrating my skull. Eating away at my brain like parasites. I feel the radioactive cancer licking my wounds with turpentine. If i was a floor, Id be in someones house getting furniture put on me. But i am half human half planet. Forced to live inside these eyes with nothing but my swiss army knife and a knack for nothing. So i swim in her eyes like an aborted fetus thrown in the deep end. Sinking gracefully to the bottom. A light thud that is inaudible. And ill sit there with my arms crossed, shivering, making little squeaks. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. U after Q is so fucking cliche. I think a salad is appropriate. I like to order mine without tomatos and then ask the waiter whys theres no tomatos in my salad. I'll wear nothing but lettuce, dancing like a cactus. And finally I see the eyes and i sit stunned. Without gasp. I want to stare and reach into the retnia and take it, and taste it, and chew it. I want those eyes in my head so I can pick up my dry cleaning. I hope they got that wine stain out of my coat. That was embarrassing.
link1 comment|post comment

hello invisible people [Jul. 4th, 2004|02:47 am]
The Jesse train
[mood |bitchybitchy]
[music |the dying gasp of your decapitated mother]

looking splendid as usual. Visible people, ugly as usual. To celebrate USA day i took a few shotguns out the country and shot me some injuns. Cooked em up real good and had a good ole american feast like granny used to make. Had all the fixens. So they found george washington's booger collection. A fine find. I hope to see it when i visit the smithsonian assuming it doesnt become a parking lot. Everything is becoming parking lots. Something is always getting turned into a parking lot. Parking lots for parking lots for parking lots for parking lots. Do astronauts have feelings? Its so lonely in space. There is no antonym for lonely which is why the word lonely encompasses every emotion or feeling within a 3 mile radius. Im pro-lonely in case your wondering. So i have this letter to god i made.
Dear God,
With friends like that you don't need enemies.
Signed, Muchacho.
I wonder what postage on this bitch is gonna be and if anyone would like to spellcheck that i would greatly appreciate it. I also appreciate sofas and their ability to seat multiple humans (or animals) upon a single appartus. Theres no greater feeling then watching a space shuttle burn up in the atmosphere. It puts things in perspective and makes you ask questions like "why do grandmas die" and "do blind people even know therye blind?". I got my harmonica back from the shop today only to find a genie living inside of it who immediately emancipated as i went into the chorus of ole susanna. He ate all my food. Fucking jerk.
link3 comments|post comment

navigation
[ viewing | most recent entries ]
[ go | earlier ]