nothing in here is true

  1. Monday, September 24, 2007

    i start the day with a dash to the bathroom to vomit 

    then i try to remember where i put the bong and eventually make it to the front door.

    i open it to greet the california sun and to see what sorta mail found my little home.

    usually theres a nice load of dog crap piled in the exact center of my porch and some little flies trying to get what the big flies seem to want.

    its so awesome.

    i take a look at the plants. one of my plants is actually chris’ – a few are actually – but one of em has a pot that doesnt have any drain holes so i make sure its not drowning. then i make sure some of the other plants arent getting eaten by snails. then i see that the spider plant isnt getting too much sun and that the ivy is getting watered enough.

    that covers all of the sun i will get.

    rice krispies are eaten out of the box. a bottle of water is opened. a bong is nearly tripped over aka discovered so then its time to find the weed. the answering machine might be blinking the cell phone might be chirping, the alarm clock might go off, but what sort of isla vistan would i be without the ceremonial wake and bake.

    and then i piss, shake, brush my teeth and see if someones still in my house.

    usually they’ll sneak out in the middle of the night. sometimes when i open the front door they’ll run out the back. those are the girls i like. those are the ones who i can relate to.

    the ones who stay, however, and feel around for a robe or ask if theres a clean towel or gasp coffee, seem to be the ones ive attracted recently.

    as in currently.

    coffee is for swallowers i tell her

    and she looks me right in the eyes

    raccoon slept in eyeliner circling bloodshot blue

    so pale so fun so young

    and opens her mouth wider than she knows she needs to.

    and over coffee we watch tv and see that theres a

    cash free monopoly

    and strangely thats the thing that blows my mind before noon.

  2. 60 Minutes reports on Medical Marijuana in Cali 

    some of our more hysterical readers at LAist occasionally give us shit for reviewing the medical marijuana that has flooded LA. so it was nice to see that the world’s most respected tv news magazine has followed our lead and begun sticking their nose into the phenomenon that is happening here.

    another trend that isn’t so mellow is the road rage being taken out on bicyclists which are being supported, it appears, by both the LAPD and the Beverly Hills Cops. there used to be a time when it was safe to ride your bicycle. and there was a time when people admired others for conserving fossil fuels.

    those days seem to be gone.

    however since this story was one of the most popular on Digg today, im starting to think that the kids know whats up, and will continue to fight the good fight.

  3. Sunday, September 23, 2007

    the beautiful dutch girl 

    just did this and im ripping her off

    1. People always think I’m younger than I am.
    2. Most people don’t think I’m black.
    3. I am a full on homebody.
    4. My day is not complete without apple juice.
    5. I hate coffee.
    6. I always wanted kids, but right now they seem like a pain in the butt.
    7. If I ever moved out of the USA (fat chance) I’d live in Vancouver.
    8. I don’t talk to my friends as much as I should.
    9. I’m not always cold, but I could always be warmer.
    10. There are full days where i don’t think of brilliant porno ideas.
    11. I hate how much email I get.
    12. I like how grape juice and Oreos makes my poop dark brown, almost black.
    13. I try to eat as little red meat as possible.
    14. Because I’m so lazy I love being bald.
    15. I hold grudges better than anyone.
    16. I can be one of the friendliest people you’ve ever met, I can also be the meanest cruelest wickedest evilest person ever, especially if you’re used to me being nice.
    17. I pretty much hate any picture I’m in.
    18. I love writing every day because I once had a teacher that said that noone can write well every day.
    19. I’ve met a lot of wonderful amazing people, but no one as great as my mom.
    20. Even though I have lots of other clothes in my closet, I mostly end up wearing shorts and a cubs shirt.
    21. I hate the phone and cringe when it rings, but when it’s one of my friends or a writer for LAist I get very happy.
    22. Forrest Green is my favorite crayon.
    23. I have a rule about not mixing work and my private life, and I’ve done very well with that one so far.
    24. I took saxophone lessons when I was growing up, but one day just lost my sax and now I can’t play anymore.
    25. Even though I’m hairy, fat, and fugly, I like being naked.
    26. I love having a fireplace.
    27. I’ve only liked two cats my whole life.
    28. Almost everything I buy ends up being a piece of crap, except my computers.
    29. I had a foursome years before I ever had a threesome.
    30. I love teaching, but trying to teach anyone how to do anything over the phone drives me crazy.
    31. I love people so much as long as they’re not driving in front of me.
    32. I think about quitting the busblog at least once a week.
    33. This week of Hate reminded me that there is no better place where I can truly vent, experiment, and be creative than here.
    34. My childhood was just about perfect.
    35. I’m normally very peaceful, so hating for a week turned me into a total wreck, and now im a little sick, however, the creative juices flowed like rushing rapids.
    36. Because of my insane life, movies usually bore the fuck outta me.
    37. I want to be a college professor more than anything.
    38. I thought I was honest, but I recently realized I don’t even tell my closest friends everything, except Chris.
    39. I believe God wanted me to live in this apartment.
    40. My life would be nothing without the web.
    41. I’ve been writing in journals since I was in high school. I never cared who read anything I wrote. And rarely do I look back at what I wrote.
    42. I hardly ever cry, but when I do it lasts about 1 second, maybe 2.
    43. I miss doing lsd and shrooms.
    44. Only suicide victims have lower self esteem than me.
    45. Although I have been very low at times and have thought about self destruction, I am constantly thinking about Heaven, and you cant go to Heaven if you kill yrself.
    46. My neighbors continually let their dogs shit on my front porch. I wish evil on all of them.
    47. Although I can understand why my parents were married at the time, I wish they had lived in a time where it was ok to live together for a while before you had to get married and have kids. I realize that means that I probably would have never been born, but my mom deserved better.
    48. I wanted to take a bath the other day but my tub grosses me out which is hard to do because im the grossest man alive.
    49. I know I’m getting old because I watch a fraction of tv that I used to.
    50. I used to be darker skinned and now even black people mistake me for white, something I really don’t like. But I can understand now what happened to michael jackson’s skin, and I believe him.
    51. It disturbs me how easily I can just shut my heart off to some of my closest friends and end everything. Forever.
    52. I think when girls dont match their bra and panties its super hot because it gives me the false belief that she wasnt gonna get naked but somehow i convinced her to.
    53. I am the least-jealous person you’ve ever met.
    54. If I was envious of anyone, it’s of people who can speak foreign languages, especially French, which I studied for years but my brain refuses to comprende.
    55. Although I still can’t believe that any of the girls who have had sex with me went through with it, for some reason I think that any girl I hit on should say yes to me and I am stunned when they say no, but not so stunned when they laugh.
    56. I’ve only kissed one black girl ever, which is weird because I like black people most of all.
    57. Although I was a poetry major, rarely do i give a shit about music lyrics other than springsteen and dylan and acdc.
    58. Before i take a shower i have to have great tunes ready to go on my boom box.
    59. I’ve never used my oven in the 6 years that ive lived here.
    60. Although I love Chris more than any girlfriend I’ve ever had, I try to block out the fact that shes in the poorest country in the world because it makes me feel bad that shes probably uncomfortable.
    61. If i will tell you i will mail you something, i mean well, but you probably wont ever get it.
    62. I don’t like finishing books because I always like to save a little something for a rainy day.
    63. This week I had a series of rainy days and I just went on and did the same shit I do every day.
    64. I hate clothes but maybe once a decade I should get new ones.
    65. Even though I couldnt be more proud of the accomplishments that I’ve helped come true on LAist, it secretly bums me out that it was at the expense of the busblog.
    66. Girls love to talk dirty with me on MSN and googlechat which confuses my schween and my mind and makes both of them think that every girl wants to talk dirty in the chat, which is so not true, trust me.
    67. I love my car so much that I might get hubcaps for the back tires soon.
    68. I think people are crazy when they say Ron Paul is crazy.
    69. After having so many lousy bosses, I can’t believe how great my current bosses are. I thought that this level of mutual respect was impossible.
    70. I don’t like sleeping, and I hate dreaming.
    71. I once had a girlfriend who always wanted to be touched or held at all times, and I loved that.
    72. My maid isnt very good but it would break both of our hearts if i stopped using her, plus I trust her.
    73. I only have three pairs of shoes, house sandals, white sneakers, and black dress shoes.
    74. I know that I have the best job for me possible, however I also know that one day very soon someone is going to offer me a lot of money to leave, and because I would like to own a house one day (why? who the fuck knows) I will sell out and take it. And later regret it.
    75. People watching is one of my favorite hobbies.
    76. I’m an excellent parallel parker.
    77. I enjoy driving so much that if I was rich I would own a free taxi for the poor.
    78. When I take a shower I like the water hot and I like to stand there and think, even though it’s bad for the environment. Sometimes I wish there was a chair in the shower so I could just sit there.
    79. I love apple sauce but it sits in my fridge untouched for months.
    80. I used to think I’d be the best dad ever, but now I think id be the worst because I have no idea what hurts peoples feelings and what doesnt.
    81. I drive a foreign car. I had always driven american cars. My next car will be american even though this foreign job is the best car i ever had.
    82. The first records I ever bought was The Cars first album, Meatloaf’s first album, and Steve Martin’s “Comedy is not Pretty”. I think the whole purchase cost me $20 which was two weeks allowance.
    83. I think people who diss bloggers for being navel gazers are missing the point of blogging, with that said my navel is an innie and its usually a little dirty.
    84. Before I smoked pot regularly I weighed 120 pounds because I could barely eat a half a slice of pizza without terrible stomach cramps. I’m 5’10”. No one can tell me that weed isn’t medicine.
    85. The only time i couldnt get it up to have sex was once in the throws of E and i was with a totally beautiful half japanese girl who i had chased for so long and there she was tugging on it but it was x’ed out, like both of us were, so we just made out naked on the carpet.
    86. I cant stand that this apartment is all hard wood flooring.
    87. I really do work for the xbi.
    88. xTx is my longest blog-friend and i hope we dont ever meet because if we like each other that will suck cuz shes married and if we dont like each other that will suck because i think her blog is the most underrated blog in the entire web.
    89. I rarely eat anything before 2pm.
    91. My first girlfriend was taller than me. Even though i still love her, i really dont like being shorter than gfs.
    92. If i could relive my childhood, the only thing I would change is instead of being really good at soccer, I would have tried harder to be really good at hockey, which i think is the manliest sport ever.
    94. I’m very happy i was not born a girl. i would dress like a slut and be a huge lesbo.
    95. Time flies very fast for me, something i hate. Before I know it its noon, before i know it its 3pm before i know its 6pm. before i know it its 3am and i should be asleep. i wish it would slow down a tad.
    96. I have very little confidence in my writing, except for a few rare examples, and i would love to go back to school to learn how to be better at it.
    97. Very soon I will get rid of almost all of my things and write a book called everything must go.
    98. I feel like there is so much in my head that would be useful to the world and it will never get out and it will die with me.
    99. I dance great in the privacy of my home, and horribly when im around anyone.
    100. Frys Electronics falsely accused me of sexual harrassment when i was a manufacturers rep, and later they found out that the woman had a pattern of lying about those things, and they never apologized to me but still i shop there all the time because their selection and prices cant be topped. Yet if a friend wrongs me in a certain way i will cut them off forever. I dont understand it either.

  4. Friday, September 21, 2007

    the rex grossman miss teenage south carolina george bushing of america 

    when did everyone become so fucking stupid?

    when did everyone just totally suck at everything?

    present company excepted of course.

    nobody can play guitar anymore except jmascis and tsar. nobody can write a good book anymore except my friends. nobody can get on the mic and lead the country except ron paul and hes got as much of a chance of winning as i do.

    wheres our hemingways wheres our twains wheres our harry carays? wheres our ben franklins and pt barnums, wheres our marvin gayes and jimis and zeppelins?

    people sell out nowadays so fast that it makes you wonder if they even know what theyre doing.

    rex grossman is not a super bowl quarterback. everyone knew it. everyone. from top to bottom everyone in the Chicago Bears knew that if you had sexy rexy on the field agaist peyton fucking manning youd lose the Super Bowl, and yet they slouched into bethlehem and got their ass handed to them.

    yet here we have sexy rexy back on the team back doing the same fucked up shit back having us bang our heads against the wall. back breaking our hearts.

    george bush gets re-elected. we are still in iraq. ryan seacrest gets millions of dollars. miss teen south carolina almost won the whole fucking thing.


    how is it that maroon 5 sells milliions of records? how is it that on cbs the grammys hand kelly clarkson a grammy at the same time on fox that american idol is whittling it down to the top 24 and yet more people are watching fox than THE american idol singing her ass off followed by beyonce and prince?

    hems generation was called the lost generation but at least they were trying to get somewhere. and at least they were smart enough to get the fuck out of america when america had lost its mind.

    we stay here and we do all the wrong things. knowing theyre wrong. we have given up on basic dreams. basic values. we’ve sold out our freedom and bought into fear.

    we’re afraid of being alone so we settle for whoevers around
    we’re afraid of gays getting married so we fuck them in the polls
    we’re afraid that the world hates us for our freedom so we stop being free

    america is the leader of the world on many levels and if we continue to suck then the world will start to mimic that behavior too and its all over. who they gonna look up to france?

    and who are the american leaders? the rockers, the politicians, and the bloggers.

    laugh all you want but the #1 american export right now next to the sugar water and the fast food is the web. and at the top of the charts are american blogs.

    dont you understand they love us for our freedoms? dont you understand that when we sell out our hearts they see it and stop believing themselves? dont you understand that if America cant even achieve the american dream then its crushed for everyone else? and i dont mean 2.5 kids and a house with a fridge in the garage, i mean love and crazy magic that comes from that.

    if the bears really loved their fans – the ones who have sat out in the cold for decades, rex grossman wouldnt be on our team. and if he was hed have on a baseball cap and be carrying a clipboard. the fans would chant for him in the fourth quarter during a blowout. hed be the peoples choice but he wouldnt be the man.

    we allow the lamest people to be the man.


    all of us.

    and matt good sings
    youre gonna get what you deserve
    and not a penny less

    bible says its easier for a camel to get thru the eye of a needle
    than for a rich man to get into the kingdom of heaven.

    because we are attached to the wrong things.

    and we’re such liars. saying we’re a christian nation
    we dont read the bible and we ignore everything in it when its read to us.
    then bitch when someone tells us that we’re not going to heaven.

    youre not going to heaven because you hate everything pure on earth
    youre not going to heaven because you reject good right here
    youre not going to heaven because you dont value love

    and heaven is love incarnate. so fuck your whines and fuck your earthly goals.

    money is not the way. pretty boy quarterbacks arent the way
    dumb blonde beauty queens are not the way.

    george bush ryan seacrest maroon five dave matthews

    those are your gods

    you are the doomed generation

    dying to repeat the failures of your parents.

  5. Thursday, September 20, 2007
  6. Wednesday, September 19, 2007

    today is my moms 31st birthday 

    raised by the first black brain surgeon and the first black plastic surgeon, my mother was very disappointed when i came out and declared that i wanted to be a pro blogger. especially because i stated this in 1984 well before anyone ever got paid to do anything on the computer.

    oh, that is other than my mom. my mom was one of the first black female computer programmers. which is funny because back then you had to write your stuff in COBOL and PASCAL and all these crazy languages and now she can barely work her Tivo. it took her years to get wifi going in her house but now she comes home from work and dials up the busblog and squints because she knows a bad word is bound to hit her when she least expects it.

    my mom is an angel. she has put up with so much in her life and she only gets sweeter. how is that possible? she will talk politics she will talk sports she will talk current events and even though the conclusion of each discussion is usually “man we’re all so doomed” she shrugs it off and tells me about my cute niece and nephew.

    my mother hates bad language and bad manners and pleads with me to try harder to be “clean” when i write. i say momma thats the white man youre trying to please. f whitey! and she says, no, your grandmother wouldnt approve, so pretend youre trying to please her.

    i feel like ive told all the stories about my mom in here before so let me tell you about the time i had a column printed in the LA Times. im sure it wasnt the proudest moment, but it was right up there because it was about race and i didnt swear. poor mom has had to read hundreds if not thousands of opinion pieces of mine where f bombs are being carpet bombed. my best college column started off “f— f— f—“, so when i told her that there was a good chance that i was gonna be in my local rag, her first words were “oh no Lord.”

    shes always worried that the cops are coming or that im about to be fired or that i will be banned from writing somewhere because a)the cops have come, b)i get fired all the time and c)i was fired and then banned from my college paper.

    but i tell her those things were just flukes. and i wonder why my mom couldnt have had a richie cunningham like she deserved – some apple pie eating white kid with freckles who wanted to direct movies about astronauts.

    instead i was her first born and louder when i was younger, and hyper and wild and full of classic cocacola. she was outnumbered, outgunned, and exhausted when she came home but our house was always clean, there was always food, we always were at school, we had braces and went to scouting and sports and she gave us everything that any kid could ever want because she gave us love. the most important thing of all.

    and because i love her i didnt say all the colorful words that you know i was dying to say.

    i love you mom


  7. every now and then you gotta drive thru the 

    darkness on the edge of town

    They’re still racing out at the Trestles,
    But that blood it never burned in her veins,
    Now I hear she’s got a house up in Fairview,
    And a style she’s trying to maintain.
    Well, if she wants to see me,
    You can tell her that I’m easily found,
    Tell her there’s a spot out ‘neath Wrigley Field,
    And tell her, there’s a darkness on the edge of town.

    Everybody’s got a secret, Sonny,
    Something that they just can’t face,
    Some folks spend their whole lives trying to keep it,
    They carry it with them every step that they take.
    Till some day they just cut it loose
    Cut it loose or let it drag ’em down,
    Where no one asks any questions,
    or looks too long in your face,
    In the darkness on the edge of town.

    Some folks are born into a good life,
    Other folks get it anyway, anyhow,
    I lost my money and I lost my wife,
    Them things don’t seem to matter much to me now.
    Tonight I’ll be on that hill ’cause I can’t stop,
    I’ll be on that hill with everything I got,
    Lives on the line where dreams are found and lost,
    I’ll be there on time and I’ll pay the cost,
    For wanting things that can only be found
    In the darkness on the edge of town.

    by Bruce Springsteen

  8. and i hate astrology most of all 

    An encyclopedia describes a scorpion as a nocturnal arachnid that attacks and paralyzes its prey with a poison injected by the long, curved tail, used for both defense and destruction. Its sting is sometimes fatal.

    People often draw back visibly when someone says he or she was born in November, murmuring, “Oh, you’re a Scorpio!” either in frank fear, or in awe and respect. Some­times there’s also a giggle that obviously refers to the legendary Scorpio passion. Scorpios are fed up with these reactions to their Sun sign, and who can blame them? But they are ruthless and dangerous, right?

    Wrong. It depends. First, you’d better learn how to recognize the sign. In self-defense perhaps-or because you seek a really superior human being.

    Scorpio likes to travel incognito. Thanks to his well-controlled nature, he usually succeeds, but there are a couple of short cuts which will make it easier to penetrate his disguise at midnight or at noon.

    Look at the eyes. They can be green, blue, brown or black, but they’ll be piercing with hypnotic intensity. Most people feel nervous and ill at ease under Scorpio’s steady gaze. You’ll have to break the spell and look away first. He’ll outstare you every time. It’s a foolproof identifica­tion of the Pluto personality. Scorpio eyes bore deeply into you, mercilessly, as if they’re penetrating your very soul. They are.

    Next, listen to him speak. The tone can be velvety soft, husky or sharply cutting, the speech slow and measured or clipped and staccato, but what he says will never be self-effacing. Scorpio has total ego. He knows what he is and he knows what he is not, and nothing anyone else thinks will change this knowledge. Insults roll right off his back, and compliments don’t move him a fraction of an inch. He needs no one to tell him his vices or his virtues. At best, he’ll calmly agree with your appraisal; at worst, he’ll suspect your motives.

    Such mastery of the personality has to be envied. No matter how his emotions are stirred, youll rarely see them reflected on Scorpio’s frozen, immobile face. These people proudly and consciously practice a blank expression. They command their features to remain firm, and their features obey. (They wouldn’t dare disobey a Scorpio.) You’ll sel­dom see Scorpio give himself away by blushing or flushing, frowning or grinning. Smiles are rare, but genuine. The body follows the same orders as the face. There will rarely be any jumping, sudden starts or nervous mannerisms.

    He’ll never flinch with embarrassment or swell up with pride. Reaction is always kept at a bare minimum, because Scorpio’s art is to probe your nature and motives relent­lessly, while remaining inscrutable himself, and he’s an ex­pert at it.

    It’s important to remember that there is a particular type of Scorpio who moves and speaks rather quickly, and appears to have an open, friendly manner. Look deeply into his eyes and really think about some of his past actions, his true behavior. He’s really just playing a game with all his happy talk. Inside, he’s as tough and determined as the more typical, poised Pluto people. Perhaps he’s even a shade more dangerous because his disguise is better, and he fools you more easily. Start treating him as Chariie-nice-guy, who’s completely harmless, and you may be courting some trouble. Be on guard with all Scorpios. I don’t mean they’re wicked. They’re just not soft or naive. Some Scorpios, realizing that their eyes expose their inner intensity, wear sunglasses frequently, even at night.

    If you’re sensitive, don’t ask his opinion or advice. You’ll get the naked, brutal truth. You asked him, hell tell you. Scorpio will not pay a false compliment to gain a point or win an ally. It’s beneath him to flatter. When he says something nice to you, treasure it. You can be sure it’s sincere and unvarnished. If he says you have a good voice, stop singing in the shower and grab a microphone. If he says you have a great voice, you can safely audition for the Met. He may even effortlessly move a few mountains out of your way to help you along.

    Don’t believe everything you hear about Scorpio selfishness. Instead, listen to some of the grateful people who have been on the receiving end of his wise counsel and generosity. Scorpio naturally at­tracts either fiercely loyal and dedicated admirers, or en­vious and spiteful enemies. But even the latter give him grudging respect, and you’ll notice they’re careful not to challenge him openly. The examples of the few who did are vivid and painful reminders that caution is required in an attack against Scorpio and his planet, Pluto. Remem­ber that Pluto rules nuclear power.

    Yet, there’s a haunting sweetness about these people, and often a gentle sympathy with the sick or despairing. Scor­pio’s touch can be cool and tender, as well as hot. His Sun position gives him several paths to follow. He can imitate the nocturnal scorpion, who will sting others and even gong himself to death for the pure pleasure of stinging- or he can imitate the glorious, soaring path of his symbolic eagle, who rises above earthly limitations, and uses his strength wisely and justly. Great generals like MacArthur, presidents like Theodore Roosevelt and scientists like Madame Curie and Jonas Salk are eagles. More United States presidents have been born under this sign than any other.

    The gray lizards fail to draw on the power of Pluto in their natures-power that could lift them high above all the unfortunate circumstances that surround them. In the very teeth of tragedy, this awesome inner strength could give them a new life in the sunlight. But they seek the dark shadows and lie dormant, a pathetic waste of the brilliant potential of their birthright. Still, Scorpio can never slide deep enough into the slime of bitter depression to com­pletely lose the power of Pluto. It’s never too late for the gray lizard to transform himself into an eagle. That kind of deep magic belongs exclusively to every person born under the Sun sign of Scorpio. All they need do is to call on it. Typical eagles have no fear. In battle they’ll lead their men into the very face of death without a tremor. Even the average Pluto man or woman bravely faces anything from physical pain and poverty to ridicule and failure with a proud contempt and complete confidence in an inner ability to overcome any blow.

    Scorpio is intensely loyal to friends. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” Some of them do this literally, for friends, rela­tives or loved ones-in battle or in a civilian crisis. The Scorpio soldier leaps instantly, instinctively, to brave the bullets and drag his buddy to safety. The Scorpio fireman gives his life to rescue the child in the burning building. Sometimes it seems Pluto people unconsciously seek vio­lence deliberately, as a challenge to their strength.

    Scorpio never forgets a gift or a kindness, and it’s richly rewarded. Conversely, he also remembers an injury or an injustice, but there are different ways of reacting. The eagle will crush the enemy so the enemy learns never to hurt him again, win the fight, and leave the defeated to go his own way. The deadly nocturnal scorpion will first sting, then plan destruction, then sting again. He’s not content with merely evening the score. He must totally destroy the enemy, or at least top him. The typical scorpion stinger will lie awake nights figuring how to get even. If a neighbor deliberately scrapes his fender, he’ll scrape two fenders on the neighbor’s car the next day, and maybe drive over his carefully pruned hedges for good measure. These scorpions are seldom content with forcing the shoe on the other foot to teach enemies how it feels. They glue the sandal on with cement. However, with the gray lizards, Pluto revenge takes the form of bitterness held inside for years, which inevitably causes deep melancholy or actual, lingering physical illness. Seething Scorpio re­sentment, turned inward and never expressed, poisons with deadly certainty. Turned outward, it can create guilt, be­cause the stinger scorpion is ashamed to harm the defense-less, when all is said and done. Therefore, it should be turned neither way-inward nor outward. It should be conquered by looking up and forgetting, like the eagle- never by looking back in anger and retaliation.

    Scorpios are seldom sick, but when they are, it’s usually serious. A long rest and a change of attitude, with peaceful acceptance replacing burning resentment, are the best cures.

    Scorpio is deeply interested in religion, intensely curious about all phases of life and death, passionately concerned with sex and violently drawn by a desire to reform. Yet he’s also heroic, dedicated to ties of family and love, and gently protective of children and weaker souls. He can be a saint or a sinner. He can experiment with the darkest mysteries this side of Hades, or he can scathingly revile sin and decadence. Whether he emotes from a pulpit, at a business meeting, or from a stage, his hypnotic appeal pierces through his audience, literally transfixing or trans­figuring them. It’s really rather frightening. Even if the Scorpio has temporarily allowed bitterness, drink or melan­choly to drag him into the Bowery, you can bet your old copy of Dante’s Inferno that the other bums will clear a path when they see him coming.

    Scorpio was born knowing the secrets of life and death, and with the ability to conquer both if he chooses. But astrology constantly advises him that “he must know that he knows.” The ancient mysteries fascinate his brilliant mind. Out of his powerful empathy with human nature grows the outstanding detective, the composer of great musical works, literature of depth and permanence, or the actor who projects with unusual dramatic intensity. Some­times he lives alone, near the sea, as strong and as silent as the tides. Sometimes he faces the public, wearing a mask of calm reserve and control, to hide his intense desire to win. He can be a politician or a television star, an under­taker or a bartender, but he’ll manage to top all his com­petitors. And hell do it so effortlessly it will seem like an act of fate rather than his own powerful will.

    Both the gray lizards and the stinging scorpions can become proud eagles without ever revealing the secret of their sorcery. No use to ask-Scorpio will never tell. But he knows the eternal truth of the circle contained in the symbolic zero.

    November’s thistle is dangerous, yet it grows entwined with the heavy, languid beauty of the Scorpio honeysuckle. Have you ever inhaled that sweet, overwhelming fragrance on a still midsummer’s night? Then you will know why there are those who brave the thistles to seek the gentle­ness of Scorpio-exquisite gentleness. The explosive pas­sion of Pluto has the rich, dark red wine color of the bloodstone. But Scorpio steel is tempered in a furnace of unbearable heat until it emerges cool, satiny smooth-and strong enough to control the nine spiritual fires of Scorpio’s wisdom.

  9. i cant even work 

    im so mad

    how is it 1:30pm
    how is it that i just asked the greatest questions of all
    and the fucking radio thing wouldnt work
    how is it that the words coming from the right people
    are so wrong
    and the words coming from those who are so far away
    are so right

    who are you i was asked
    i have no idea i thought
    i thought i was someone cool
    but im not.
    i thought i was something sorta good
    and sorta important
    but so not true.

    there are very few people who i have trusted in my life
    when it comes right down to it.
    and by trust i mean shared everything with.
    including the concept of trust.

    i had two grandmothers who never took excuses.
    one did it in a very angry uptight hit you with a purse way
    one did it with a look that would slice you in half.

    and they would beat excuses out of your head and youd get to a point where
    youd just do everything.

    all i know is sometimes you dont wanna open up any doors
    sometimes you dont want people to shine a light in your dusty corners
    you dont want the devil to show you the obvious
    which is

    youre barely even a blogspot blogger

    youre almost a livejournaler.

    youre practically nothing.

    and when you die

    you better hope that you are allowed to have whatever you want on your tombstone

    cuz that will be the only thing left for people to remember you by

    and if anyone wants to piss on my grave, look for the rocks that look like a huge log of cow shit

    that spelt out says

    fuck ticketmaster