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January 22nd, 2007

06:27 pm: dude, my scrotum hurts.

September 1st, 2005

01:18 am: nine times nine times nine times nine times nine times nine times nine times nine times nine times
What’s that suck hum doing? Cup handled, a pucker ring.

August 31st: the funnel appeared to be three sizes, squirming, squirted, steaming. In on down you’ll go imaginary woman. The plugger’s hump, the wedlock lesson, all part of a proper pull, I’m told. No need to neaten or bide away idly. Mine is a meager crack in the back, losing a hiss of air.

April 1st, 2005

12:29 pm: dear second head,
hey, where the hell are you?
Where is the fun in having a personality, when it isn't multiple?
I've been patient, but come on.
If I don't hear from you soon, I am going to automatically assume you really are a figment of my imagination, and that underneath it all, you really do hate me. Or I hate myself... Well, I can't say I am perfect, but nobody likes to be abandoned...

your pal,

Jarvis Wetfeather

Current Mood: embarrassedembarrassed

July 19th, 2004

08:36 pm: the shennanigans of a journal's meddlings.
-part 1. process of elimination brought forth to cover up the truth

file: 101-769 (The Gilead Chanutauqua Case)

reunition of a sorted sort, of sordid past and trivial bringings-up. lather and rinse. not to repeat, stammering aloud and impotent. infertile tomfoolery, of the invalid type; furrowing forth mishaps misshapen in tentacular growths, a disease unheard of up to the present. a pod for germination of a somnolent seed. a wish-wash, with a bubblegum pop. cherry flavored, and staining the enamel of a one-toothed wonder. molding undergrowth inbetween a sacreligious tombstone scribbled in light blue pen with the cap chewed off, nagging at the dead while they sleep, a violent scapegoat working wonders behind the scenes. a dark time capsule's capsized in dulling armor, an arm's reach within the small mound constraining a pitchfork. a bloody migraine bursting in aneurysm pops the clot where the stone was entrenched. removal of its jewels and an old dried up skull, gnawed through to the jawbone with anomalous teethmarks; a medical journal's deletion, a scientific curio beyond comprehension for even the brightest of old fellows. only a toddler knows of this truth, a conspiracy girded in theory, a compromise to the name of the examiner, upon mailing the death certificate to the victim's next of kin. servicing a recommendation straight from the mouth of the general upon inspection. Abnormal Constriction- General Decay; Cause of Death: Unknown; Suspected Foul Play; Gangrene Pus Pockets, Unidentified Ooze: Dripping from Source of Wounds. (Delete All Files; "Of Natural Causes", inserted properly in its place.)

Signed, Yours Truly,
The On-Staff Mortician
Handling this Case.

Current Mood: morosemorose

June 29th, 2004

11:05 am: For any buddy dozing off with a boner right now
I got somethin to say.

Anybody every hear of Sears Roebuck? Well, I gotta tell ya. I got a pair of Wranglers from there back in June 1965 and the fuckers are coming apart at the seams. So I took 'em back, WITH receipt and the piece of shit manager WOULD NOT give me back my 12 dollars and 98 cents so to ANYONE who buys their school clothes at Sears Roebuck, for anyone who buys their TOOLS at Sears Roebuck, for anyone who buys their HOME APPLIANCES at Sears Roebuck, consider this injustice right here right now before you decide to give them your business. If we all boycott together then maybe something will be done. But if nobody protests then nothing is EVER going to change with this RETAIL PIECE OF SHIT CALLED SEARS ROEBUCK.


April 28th, 2004


April 23rd, 2004

02:56 pm: oh helly helly ho
That wind has a sound I ain’t suggesting… it’s been leaking over the cements walls since Sunday, and the smell here just hasn’t been anywhere near the same. As it was, as I was, some of it had cracked a part last summer when the heat here got real hot, and granda took her sweater off for the first time since 1970. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a real grand old hag, but she shivers when it’s seventy, and shakes when it’s eighty. She’s 99, and white as a ghost, so the sun she can’t be seen in, or else she’d be stripped for sure. I ain’t sure how I got on all that sayin, but back to where’s I was. That wall got itself real hot under that July sun, and at night when it got real cool out there, we all heard a big ol’ CRACK. And we hadda come and look, and low and behold that ten foot slab of ceement was split right nearly in two. Well granda, uncle bill, jethro, and little polly all had a big chummy laugh, but then the air started a small seep through, and we were as sick as dogs, mouthing it all up in our hands and hedges.
Well nows I know don’t about what them fed’s mens do up all in that place down yonder beyond them walls, but this wind has made us all sick, and our nerves want us to pick em all out. So granda says we’d best give a climb to them walls and see, cuz there’s a sound over there that sounds like somthin’s coming slow, and really steady. And we ain’t so sure if it is heading this way or that, but I ain’t about to give even a bit of help to them fed’s men, who’ve been stinkin’ up my yard.

April 19th, 2004

09:01 pm: For My Horsemen on Day 1 of the Apocalypse
Feed on your "delicious caviar",
ripen your swords and wet your whistles, because here come the Triumphant Trumpets.

Fifty seven years ago, a man bearing the same traits as our forefathers, intellectually stimulated himself in a castle on a tall, climatory hill.

This desperate man sought glory above the desperados, and was intent on capturing the Spirit of Creator and bringing this Light into Fruition.

The outtakes which were taken out of context were originally wrapped in aluminum foil and dowsed in pepper gas, thinking a small sniff would set 'em straight over the valley and into the Tabernacle of Christ.

The 3 Wive's Men were not really Wise at all. There were actually FOUR of them, and they were all "dummkopfs" just as I, being uncertain the spelling of that German word is correct.

However, the most important letter was written and sealed in envelope $10, circumstancial evidence stated that there must have been at LEAST 50,000,000 letters sent out that day, but this particular letter had been scrolled by Mr. Seymore Richardson of Oregon, and was hitherto mailed on this day somewhere around 1941.

Dialed on the teleprompter, Mrs. Jane Shingles of Richmond, Virginia to report her dog was missing... short-haired Rottweiler, goes by the name of "Tony", grabbed me that phone and put her number on speed-deal.

At noon, but then again, right around Midnight Eastern time, a meadow was closing in on a donut factory, where a former employee, Bill Shickles, was snipping the collar from his dog.

He let that dog loose in the field that day, and thankfully, Mr. Shickles had heard Mrs. Shingles call in on the teleprompter to report her Rottweiler dog "Tony" missing that day.

Mr. Shickles and Mrs. Shingles wrote down each others' addresses, and the next year, Shickles asked Shingles for permission to gouge her eyes out with a toothpick, to which Mrs. Shingles declined.

Bill and Jane SHICKLES are not happily married and living in Omaha, Nebraska, but an elusive Maxwell Herman paid Mr. Shingles a visit when Herman caught Mrs. Shingles walking Mr. Snickle's new Rotweiller puppy around the bank of the new development in South Petersburg.

As our story concludes, Mr. Shingles was arrested a year later for "relieving himself" on a fire hydrant within the Angler City Limits. He was fined and set free without bail.

The County Clerk Administrator was quoted as saying, "I have worked closely with Don Shingles for years, and he is terribly shocked and disppointed at the recent actions of his brother and longtime co-worker. We hope Bill continues to get the help he needs under the current care of the geriatric professionals."

Randall Murphy, 24, and Jean Simmons, 32, a daughter.

This concludes our broadcast day.

April 15th, 2004

08:47 pm: jumbled huh?
Time again to start a new, and not expect anything from any of the other yous. You yous got me? You yous all keeped on sattin on like old lumps, doodling in your pants from the sights and sounds of mama telo vision, telling you its right from its wrongs. You yous aint be doing nothin but stickering your fingers in your mouths to push back the vomits. I’ve seen yous gaggin you’s selfs mighty sick, blowing up some fat mish-mashes on the tv’s-tables. Sos what’s yous be missing is a sure kick in the fat assies. Don’t you nag at this scolding or, try and poke a dirty face in at me none neither, cuz I’ve friggin’ had it with the whole lying cheating lot of yous, yous here me?

Secondly I don’t see no face sticking it at me for the looking stare in. Some old time lover who aint got nothing but a stiff upper lip, and dry hands cracked from the smacking. Oooh durlin I love ya plenty lets me and yous go slip it in the sacks, and rumple up the wrappins. That’s the plain straight and narrow of this quick charade of hearty hearty love love thump thump. So don’t squiggle over my sense and tenses, you worming lie tugger, with your lipping looses, chuggling up some sicky suck.

Uh huh, uh huh, sure as shit, I’ve got a point to push into your pouty little puss, you second hand sloucher, you pitied wrangle of fleshy tingles. I’d sever the chord long before troubling with your ugly mouth shooting out sounds of “horse” and “such”. And you, as for it, I aint no needle you’ll need to be poking, so put your finger on some other sack, packin’ itself for the long voyage out…

Current Mood: you's here me?
Current Music: huh do yous?

October 3rd, 2003

07:42 pm: white on white on white on white on white on white on white on
oh god oh ogod I gotta tell you this ok, oh i gotta oh ok, I gotta calm down.

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