tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79673142011-07-09T10:51:39.575-05:00Orusnoreply@blogger.comBlogger1711100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-34905776561258137092007-11-01T10:48:00.000-05:002007-11-01T10:49:18.225-05:00

Fuck off, will you?

Orusnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-83341400001129650062007-10-29T22:41:00.000-05:002007-10-30T21:09:26.329-05:00

The Government HandshakeThis is a man hands a child a smile in return for its life. It is the overflowing blood of a city that covers his fingers and everything they touch. This is the absence of the stillness and the pride of man in him. It is the buying and selling of peace and war that the child learns of and that the child knows of when he is no longer a child. The hinderance of progress is

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-62973940507173220032007-08-31T22:09:00.000-05:002007-08-31T22:11:02.211-05:00

Where politics are concerned, it seems everyone has a one-track mind. Fuck that.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-84640926064052004442007-08-27T21:13:00.001-05:002007-09-12T17:45:25.608-05:00

Since when does "rule" equal "morality"? Since when is religion the basis for it?Fuckshitpisscuntbitchasscock.Was that immoral? These words are, well, in this context, are simply light waves translated by our eyes into an image, but said, they are simply sequences of sounds.I want to fuck a lady. I want to have sex with a lady. I want to make love to a lady.Awww, does "make love" sound nicer

Orusnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1380272710754523282007-08-23T17:33:00.000-05:002007-08-23T17:34:23.068-05:00

This world is lame.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-5811755472697646082007-07-09T22:51:00.000-05:002007-07-09T23:01:06.029-05:00

One should Click that Title. Hidden within it is Music!The folk festival was wonderful and it burned. Many Good tunes to be heard by such greats as final fantasy, elliot brood, boompam, death vessel and countless (well, not really) others. And there was tea to be shared and it was good.However, I burn.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-4601424444913742382007-06-25T23:21:00.000-05:002007-06-25T23:28:20.074-05:00

And is it not also - upon these stones! - where we will live?. Where does this come from? this failing of hope and of courage? When thoughts first entered our minds, were they thoughts of violence?

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-90793045179707260712007-06-19T07:22:00.003-05:002007-06-19T07:23:30.105-05:00

I ecstatic, for I will see Willie Nelson tonight.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-46452427336534723672007-05-16T12:38:00.000-05:002007-05-16T13:09:04.841-05:00

This started slowly, but it's been accelerating steadily for months now, and I am feeling less and less of the little love I had for this world.Perhaps 'world' is not the best word. I love Earth. And really, I love my brothers and sisters on this planet as much as I love the planet itself. But increasingly I have fewer things in common with how we live today. I hope that this, which is in me

Orusnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-44216150294616304802007-05-14T11:21:00.000-05:002007-05-14T11:25:57.583-05:00

Good show, good show.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-87427301995070273822007-05-01T17:53:00.000-05:002007-05-01T18:07:21.187-05:00

I watch car chases from behind one-way glass and I talk into the dead ear of a mate and touch seven earth-fingers on the hand of a woman.But my eyes are focused on a speeding car a crippled mouse.My eyes are focused.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-67292965664662252452007-04-19T10:30:00.000-05:002007-04-19T10:38:20.122-05:00

Sky is the word my children use to address me when they speak with me and of me, and when they meditate with me. Sometimes we are Celestia...Language is unimportant to me, but it is really the only way my children can communicate clearly. There are a sensitive few (though it is a growing number) born with limited ability to speak with me and my brothers and sisters, and our grandfathers the

Orusnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-34173225987000639762007-03-27T15:33:00.000-05:002007-03-28T12:33:46.058-05:00

There is no merit in my bones as a lover or an acquaintance, or as anything that comes between them. This is vexatious, but am I really that torn? At least it's something. This inky shadow soul is now aware of the caustic repercussions this discovery will unleash. It's almost welcome. It's not love that's caused it, but ego issues that are based on what I perceive as fact, and being only

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-55129462370366484692007-03-26T12:59:00.001-05:002007-03-26T12:59:56.857-05:00

Orusnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-39442592087485580512007-03-17T12:47:00.000-05:002007-03-17T12:55:06.644-05:00

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-27933580189629480732007-02-24T15:11:00.000-06:002007-02-24T15:13:29.505-06:00

Enjoy.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-86849376446842602452007-02-22T21:40:00.000-06:002007-02-22T21:42:38.708-06:00

This is short, and simple. My apartment is clean. It's surprising how...not depressing it is now. I must now clean my room and be done with it.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-58596087025978332582007-02-17T21:28:00.000-06:002007-02-18T02:29:32.373-06:00

To take dips daily we dive in gayly. He knows who goes within himself. The board of angels. The mystical promised land. The one and only Heaven, the God of man, is but the closing of an eyelid away.There are many changes on this journey, and they'll stop you like a brick wall.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-46721555126721901942007-02-06T13:14:00.000-06:002007-02-06T13:16:01.935-06:00

Heh, I'd actually meant to post the second video in my last post here, and this video in that one, but apparently I really fucked the dog this time.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-35714129704693928082007-02-05T22:01:00.000-06:002007-02-06T13:16:28.893-06:00

Orusnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-35731058153829791112007-02-04T23:38:00.000-06:002007-02-05T23:49:43.812-06:00

This (being the title of of the post) is powerful insight into alcoholism and what it does to you. Quite different from On The Road, and most likely as different from the Dharma Bums, Desolation Angels, Tristessa and The Subterraneans. This is a recommended read for everyone...That includes you.21 am I within, what, a sleep or....four? Five? Jesus...

Orusnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-64721457428168018332007-01-30T13:32:00.000-06:002007-02-06T13:16:59.840-06:00

(Apparently I've been enlightened by Sam that I can post videos here, and by kyle on how to do it easily.)

Orusnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-87927731219158984642007-01-28T01:15:00.000-06:002007-02-06T13:17:28.016-06:00

This pen in my hand is a ghost, and I am a shadow for it, the shadow of a ghost of the darkening corners of my mind, like in the sense of an ephemeral ink soul, following closely but only a shadow, an inky shadow of soul.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-18992798696258569572007-01-14T00:13:00.000-06:002007-01-26T13:20:44.503-06:00

Sobey's christmas, drunk, forgetting what was said, joint of tea outside, no prize, kira's thigh, only guy, rex won so many, fish won none, what a night, i need food, i need food i need food i need food, fuck BK, i can't make food I can't sleep sex, where is it, where go? how go? who where when why how fuck BK safely home is what I hope, where are the remains of the day?

Orusnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1164857054397677182006-11-29T21:21:00.000-06:002007-01-26T13:21:39.059-06:00

The hill he so powerfully stood on was such a hill, that it put others to shame. When he stood on it, it grew, and stretched larger, and it could carry him anywhere. That which made the ground for walking also made for the power of his mind.Standing on that hill, the universe was his. He was here and he was there, and he was most of all, the dirt on the ground.He looked around himself and

Orusnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1162326263718775412006-10-31T14:23:00.000-06:002007-01-26T13:22:28.645-06:00

Life is a Pure Flame(English Translation) There was a tribe and in this tribe there were four men, six women and three children. Two of the men were old and wise, the other two young, strong, bright, and powerful providers. Five of the women were of childbearing age and two of them were currently pregnant. The three empty-bellied women were already mothers. The sixth woman gave birth to all the

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1162002892024331492006-10-27T21:31:00.000-05:002007-01-26T13:22:52.556-06:00

We Are Ocean, the Universe‘One million years’ is a pebble. There is a beach on an ocean, a forest behind it and mountains behind them, and on this beach there are an endless number of these pebbles, and on these pebbles you will find the evolution of the specifics of the universe. Mortality cannot bring itself to coexist with this scale. In fact, mortality fears it. It will discount an eternal

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1161234039121358972006-10-18T23:55:00.000-05:002006-10-27T21:28:02.570-05:00

I'm writing science-fiction.I'm writing something meaningful.The darkness vibrates. The Earth is blue.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1154074843576626322006-07-28T03:02:00.000-05:002006-07-28T03:20:43.656-05:00

There are so many things we could be right now. When I think about it, it hurts, sometimes emotionally and sometimes just mentally. The money, the time, the energy and the thought we've put into causing the death and sometimes eradication of our fellow man has been wasted all these thousands of years. That money and energy, had it been spent on peace, generosity, moderation and science, I have no

Orusnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1153732039939522372006-07-24T04:02:00.001-05:002006-07-24T04:07:19.940-05:00

Is life really waiting to begin, or is it already behind me?What have I been missing?Yes Boss: The Government Handshake.Yes Boss: The Crusher of LanguageYes Boss: Mr. Stillwater, the Face on the Edge of the Banquet and the Cool, the Cool River.Who says: "Hard Times, I'm Used to Them."? "The Spinning Planet Burns, I'm Used to That."? "My Life's So Common it

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1152261270571469002006-07-07T03:22:00.000-05:002006-07-07T03:34:30.600-05:00

Here is such comfort.Here is the voice of humility and pride as equals. It speaks of rugged truth and beauty and the melodies it composes with itself are not themselves the consciousness and the language of man, but a part of it, a limb for walking or a tongue for speaking, and it is as important as breathing, this peace.There is a beat it follows and it's not a beating of any drum, but of the

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1151081261761509492006-06-23T11:42:00.000-05:002006-06-23T11:47:41.846-05:00

Kyle and I went to see this movie yesterday at Pretense theater, and by that I mean "Cinematheque". It was fucking phenomenal. Brutal and violent, but brilliant. All the goddamned hippies with their backpacks were fuckin' annoying though.Sam and Laura, if you read this...get the hell out here, I have a little present for you. And no, it's not my awesome presence and "chiseled-out-of-stone"

Orusnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1150951634797839402006-06-21T23:07:00.000-05:002006-06-21T23:48:09.886-05:00

"The De-evolution of Man"The sun is nowhere and the sky is grey. A man is standing with a book in his hands, before a rectangular hole, and he is surrounded by twenty-seven other people, four children and the rest adults, all dressed in black. At the sixth and last foot of depth is the ground upon which a simple wooden casked is resting. The man is reading from the book, and when he finishes he

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1150319781087239752006-06-14T16:10:00.000-05:002006-06-15T12:02:09.753-05:00

His name is Ian. He was born into the family of Sean and Tabitha O’Brien, and he is bald. He has two powerfully green eyes that the majority of those he is in contact with on any given day never see. After waking up at sunrise and cooking himself a simple meal of eggs and toast in his boxers and in silence, he opens his closet. Before him is a row of uniforms, marked for each day of the week, and

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1149566408581434362006-06-05T22:42:00.000-05:002006-06-05T23:00:08.656-05:00

There may have been a thunderstorm.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1149267850020339102006-06-02T11:51:00.000-05:002006-06-02T12:09:01.940-05:00

I'm normally not one to do such things, but since it was Laura who tagged me, she shall get her wishes.Things you may not have known about me.....A) Four jobs I have had in my life:BaggerLawn MowerCart Pushing BastardFishmongerB) Four movies I would watch over and over:American PsychoFight ClubSin CityThree KingsC) Four places you have lived:The middle of nowhereKleefeldSteinbachWinnipegD) Four

Orusnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1148705654777311122006-05-26T23:50:00.000-05:002006-05-26T23:58:02.573-05:00

They send their battered dreams to heaven, for the mother's restless son, who is a witness too, who is a warrior, who denies his urge to break and run, who says: Hard times? I'm used to them. The speeding planet burns, I'm used to that. My life's so common it disappears, and sometimes even music cannot substitute for tears.Lately I've taken to listening to albums. Sitting and just listening to

Orusnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1147755052262374092006-05-15T23:42:00.000-05:002006-05-19T17:27:45.463-05:00

Complete myself is what I wish I could do but there's nothing that's helping or stopping me from it. I'm just sitting here. I'm in and out of everything, I can't start a conversation for the life of me. This is where I punch a hole in the sky and become a second sun. I'm a bird and the bird, it knows the bee stings, and then it dies. I don't want to be that kind of bird. I want to be a lion. If

Orusnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1147334889035113062006-05-11T02:47:00.000-05:002006-05-11T03:12:11.023-05:00

I'm sitting in the giant footsteps of the poor, staring out through a square. It's a long way from here to the green skies, it's citizenry too far for my fingers to touch.The door of the poor is visible only through a telescope, and it looks like more than a rectangle. It's a heptagon and there are two handles, one for my pride and one for my humility, and there are two holes for my eyes, but I

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1146553807796687152006-05-02T02:09:00.000-05:002006-05-02T02:10:07.806-05:00

I don't know what to say.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1146166446324018862006-04-27T14:29:00.000-05:002006-04-27T14:34:06.353-05:00

I've looked up at the sky every night of my entire life. I've never felt closer, more connected to the Earth and the Universe than I did last night. Never have I had such a powerful desire to leave. To leave this Earth despite my connection to it. To just fly into the expanse of the universe. Never before have I desired so much to know that we are not alone; that millions of lightyears away,

Orusnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1146082134011808832006-04-26T15:05:00.000-05:002006-04-26T15:08:54.090-05:00

We have a telephone and an internet again.And we have just received a great present from overseas.We got ourselves a James.People, come over.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1143566924683493162006-03-28T11:27:00.000-06:002006-03-28T11:28:44.696-06:00

There is hell to pay. Matthew Good played House of Smoke and Mirrors at the West End show on Monday. I missed it. It's in my top five Matt Good songs. I'm going to murder someone, or myself.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1143528426132519272006-03-28T00:40:00.001-06:002006-03-28T00:47:06.133-06:00

To Write Blind, And To Feel Beautiful Doing ItVerse 1With one beating of her drumshe will find something here.With one biting of my thumbI’ll be burned into her eyes.Fuck off will be my proverb,and my intricacies here are unheard of.Chorus 1I’m an ebbing tide anda beast of a man.Verse 2Stunned, we are parachutesthat never opened.We descend upon the Earthwith the wind.With the greatest

Orusnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1143439201984915042006-03-26T23:10:00.000-06:002006-03-27T15:00:06.440-06:00

Kim and I are back to the wonderfully boring and somewhat warmer province of Manitoba.We saw a lot of deer in one small stretch of road. Half of them were dead. We also listened to just about every cd in my wallet.The show itself was wonderful, but the getting there left much to be desired. The show started at eight, so we left at seven and got there at about 7:30. We then stood outside in the

Orusnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1143261225363484002006-03-24T22:32:00.000-06:002006-03-24T22:39:15.306-06:00

I slept till morning light,with no fear of stormy nights.And then,with the rising of the Sun,the burning of the Sky,I looked upon Her. And lo!She had the face of an Angel.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1143093688491425792006-03-22T23:58:00.000-06:002006-03-23T00:05:26.623-06:00

I rise, I dress, I walk, I work, I walk, I sit, I talk, I sleep, I rise, I dress, I walk, I work, I walk, I sit, I talk, I sleep, I rise, I dress, I walk, I work, I walk, I sit, I talk, I sleep, I rise, I dress, I walk, I work, I walk, I sit, I talk, I sleep, I rise, I dress, I walk, I work, I walk, I sit, I talk, I sleep,I rise, I dress, I walk, I work, I walk, I sit, I talk, I sleep, I rise, I

Orusnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1143002096077378802006-03-21T22:32:00.000-06:002006-03-21T22:34:56.090-06:00

The weirdest curse in the world is jesusfuck.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1142537523868537622006-03-16T13:19:00.000-06:002006-03-17T15:14:31.370-06:00

Dislcaimer: I was sober when these event took place, and I am sober now, writing this.For some reason, last night, I was thinking about that phrase, and it instilled in me some kind fear, a kind of image in my mind that I could not place, and all I know is that it terrified me.Ever since I lost imagination this has been happening. There's an infomercial that plays sometimes for a dieting pill of

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1142209606634965642006-03-12T18:23:00.000-06:002006-03-12T18:26:46.646-06:00

Or is it? We'll find out. Kim and I are blowing this joint for that one the saturday after this coming one.We're going to see Matthew Good. He will play songs that are better than your soul, like Fated and So Long Mrs. Smith. Happy.On another note, St. Patricks day is this coming Saturday, and I plan on being in an altered state for at least half a day. Who's with me?

Orusnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1141711521450534372006-03-07T00:00:00.000-06:002006-03-07T00:05:21.460-06:00

Orusnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1141689985041367082006-03-06T18:04:00.000-06:002006-03-06T18:06:25.050-06:00

It's the truth, my friends. It's the truth.I need a new book to read.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1141264660234792522006-03-01T19:57:00.000-06:002006-03-05T23:58:56.103-06:00

Cool, clear water.The haze slips from my eyes on a Sunday.What I'm here to write about is the snow. The snow is my arch-nemesis.What I'm here to write about is dancing invisible. I stared at the road signs and the possibility they'd take me away from you.What I'm here to write about is that I am a beast, borne into a world of rabbits. The hunt has become a still thing, a violence in the form of a

Orusnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1140732797719709672006-02-23T15:57:00.000-06:002006-02-24T13:05:12.256-06:00

Daniel had been a man in the deepest, most permanent sense of the word. He'd lived in a bungalow on a thunderbolt of a street in a storm of a town. He'd known his neighbour's well; he'd eaten with them on many occasions. His doormat read "You Should Come Home." He was married once, and it had lasted until his death. She'd had dark brown hair and her eyes were the most intense blue. She was the

Orusnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1140542383967780802006-02-21T11:15:00.000-06:002006-03-22T23:26:42.736-06:00

Where we go after tonight is the memory we can't put our finger on. It is a name on the tip of our tongues.There is no one left to kiss.She burns a picture in the pit of my stomach. She kindles a fire in my chest and between my legs. There are flames pouring out of me, onto her. There is nothing close to pain, and my flames lick her like the sun licks the moon in the dead of night.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1140411254416124342006-02-19T22:51:00.000-06:002006-02-20T00:24:13.130-06:00

Once I am inside you, I will never come out. You will try to make me come, you will try and try, but I will be too far inside of you, like two worlds in harmony, like a break in the rhythm.I stand to tell youthat I am finished.But your moonlithands are one thousand stitches,crossing over and inside my lips.Stunned, we are parachutesthat never opened.We descendupon the Earthwith the wind.With

Orusnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1139804712812293002006-02-12T22:22:00.000-06:002006-02-12T22:25:12.823-06:00

After I awokethe Earth lay silent on it's back.legs spread, and not even theslightest cloud of life wouldever form above it.In a pile of ashesthe Earth had diedand with It's wings spreadI carried It over my shoulder,to the Center of the World.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1139475597562538952006-02-09T02:54:00.000-06:002006-02-09T02:59:57.623-06:00

Before I caught firethe Earth sang to me.I was a bluebird,soaring through and through,before I caught fire.The Ocean kissed my tealwingtips and I soaredthrough and through,before I caught fire.The Tree held me close,under the cloak of starsand I stared, through,and through, and through,before I caught fire.I soared through and through.I came upon Peace, and she wasdying on the horizon,and with

Orusnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1139340335511694622006-02-07T13:09:00.000-06:002006-02-07T13:28:40.606-06:00

In two days I will have lived for exactly 1 fifth of 100 years, 20 years on this earth, and I've come to the realization that I want to be an astronaut. This life is boring, 20 years divided into 18 years of that state, and 2 years total, spread out over the 18 years, of some kind of excitement. Then, when I think about it, 80 percent of that excitement has happened in the past twoish years

Orusnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1138850939643029572006-02-01T21:20:00.000-06:002006-02-01T21:28:59.663-06:00

The morning hits me like some pansophical bird or something just as wonderful. The sun’s liquid through the window and it’s her lips on my face. She’s facing the wall and I’m staring at the ceiling, and then she rolls over and her arm rests on my chest. Her head rests above my shoulder, and when I look at her, her gorgeous green eyes open slowly, as though she’s waking up in paradise. I kiss her

Orusnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1138596009360535922006-01-29T22:39:00.000-06:002006-01-30T00:39:02.083-06:00

I will. Leave me the fuck alone.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1138442448440747982006-01-28T04:00:00.000-06:002006-01-28T04:00:48.440-06:00

Orusnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1138442398568213932006-01-28T03:59:00.000-06:002006-01-28T03:59:58.586-06:00

Goodbye and good luck James. You're one of the better people I know.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1138249307950016712006-01-25T22:21:00.000-06:002006-01-25T22:21:47.960-06:00

I love.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1138039822962070132006-01-23T12:05:00.000-06:002006-01-23T12:15:25.713-06:00

I deleted my most recent post because it was only part of something bigger, that was unfinished before. It is finished now, but it is LONG AS FUCK so I may not even put it up here.Today is voting day and I don't get to vote. F-.I hope The Hour is on because my husband, Matthew Good, I believe is going to be on it tonight, and then I will have ten orgasms.As for Mario Partying, I work till nine

Orusnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1137467758871282342006-01-16T20:53:00.000-06:002006-01-16T21:56:15.266-06:00

If one has sorrows, and those sorrows have overcome one, one must drown them. There's a widely unknown satisfaction in the drowning of ones sorrows, be it through music, writing, alcohol, sleep or the mere act of existing in what one knows is an empty life.I am at ease in the arms of woman. There's nothing else to be said in regards to this. It is as simple as that. There are some arms that I'd

Orusnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1137299153960412632006-01-14T22:21:00.000-06:002006-01-14T22:26:27.223-06:00

I don't know why I thought of this, but it just came to mind suddenly.I like tonnes of music. Like, shitloads. But I don't listen to a lot. I have a few bands and artists that connect with me on some visceral level, and that I'll listen to religiously. Other than that, they're just good bands with good songs, sometimes great songs. Sometimes a group or artist will have one song that I adore, but

Orusnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1137126536973597992006-01-12T22:27:00.000-06:002006-01-12T22:28:56.983-06:00

And you are a distant shore.This is what it does to you.There will be a hostel you can find in spain, in the next decade and a half, that will be the best hostel ever, and only attractive people will be allowed to stay there.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1136918163752272372006-01-10T12:31:00.000-06:002006-01-10T12:36:03.763-06:00

In Oldness, And Quiet AgelessnessSend not one of my left hands, we are too darkned by our dry nightto be left handless.Send many a right hand to their countless dooms, we aretoo full of their debts to berighteous.That you would overfill our sanity with a sincerity of lefthands that can only be found in oldness, and quiet agelessness.On Drinking, and Drunkenness"I'll murder you," he said."I'll

Orusnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1136422170523792052006-01-04T18:45:00.000-06:002006-01-05T13:06:33.220-06:00

Believe me, this shit'll sound better when it's put to music.Verse IWintertime’s come and gonefor fifteen years and going onstrong.She’s cold like my heart,since ten years we’re apart.There’s blood and snow ‘round hereand we’ve begun to fear me.Wintertime, she’s colder nowand we don’t we don’t know howto be freeof us and them and weand you and me and threeBridgeyears have passed since I stolemy

Orusnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1136260061489674482006-01-02T21:47:00.000-06:002006-01-02T21:52:37.813-06:00

All I remember is kissing:Sam/Myla/Vanessa/Sara/James/Ezra/Chris. In all honesty, Ezra was the best for me.I remember some things but not others, and I remember that asshole boss at Frisco's, James, you and I should've taken him out back.And David bringing Tequila, what a crazy.Can someone remember me the things I done?

Orusnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1136059462361151522005-12-31T13:48:00.000-06:002005-12-31T14:04:22.406-06:00

There was a pretty little show last night taking place at The Cavern under The Toad. The Paperbacks were playing well. Me and the singer, Doug, are going to make out while watching Brokeback Mountain.I only had a few drinks, but I was pleasantly buzzed, as were Josh and James. David was not. After an evening of Josh being and ASS and blowing on the back of my head eight million times, we

Orusnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1135837634315588762005-12-29T00:20:00.000-06:002005-12-29T00:54:11.906-06:00

Josh is pissed off and sick, and he looked at me, when I asked him what was wrong, like...I don't know. It was a look I'd never seen from him before. And he just walked out.Because I said "wait" when he asked me to use the headphones. Because I was going to finish the song and then plug them in.What the fuck?And my brother's been on the phone with his fiance for two hours arguing for the ninth

Orusnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1135667800028252442005-12-27T01:14:00.000-06:002005-12-29T00:53:59.453-06:00

Fuck you bills. Fuck your fucking shit. Since when does "free evenings and weekends" mean "pay for evenings and weekends"? What the fuck? 80 dollars my ass.And fuck you, like our showerhead broke the plumbing. 120 dollars my cock in your ass.Fucking bills ripping us the fuck off.Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck.Such bullshit, seriously.Man, though, I had some good pizza today, and I like gin.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1135055249756875002005-12-19T22:49:00.000-06:002005-12-27T13:18:11.083-06:00

Orusnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1134709800229160932005-12-15T22:42:00.000-06:002005-12-15T23:16:15.973-06:00

Christmas is fucked the fuck up, you know?It's the time of year when we surround ourselves with family and help those less fortunate.Then, three days later, we stop giving a fuck.It's the time when we buy gifts for those we love, and even sometimes those we don't.And end up spending so much money on useless, temporal shit.And so I say to all of you, Merry Fucking Shitmas.Spread the love around a

Orusnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1134531951453488872005-12-13T21:32:00.000-06:002005-12-13T21:45:51.466-06:00

An interdisciplinary perspective on the problem of man."I believe that no man ever threw away his life while it was worth keeping", because "life is a pure flame, and we live by an invisible Sun within us."So, where do we end and when will

Orusnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1133633635089219892005-12-03T12:01:00.000-06:002005-12-03T12:13:55.100-06:00

I would like to think that it's close at hand, but that's wishful thinking in a time where reason should be first and foremost in my mind.I'm a little slow on the draw here, but everyone is on Stephen Harpers case for opening up the same-sex marriage debate within hours of the dissolution of parliament. They're on his case for reopening an old wound, and that kind of thing. For once in my life,

Orusnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1132638338335516942005-11-21T23:24:00.000-06:002005-11-21T23:45:38.420-06:00

I remember driving from no home to another one, I remember the sun pushing it's way into my car through the windshield, fishing for some kind of love in my eyes, but all it ever got from me was a visor and a selected finger from my left hand. Jesus, I remember that sun like it was yesterday. Burning.I remember Stars, I remember them circling my head swiftly, and by some process that must have

Orusnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1132307991905311982005-11-18T02:51:00.000-06:002005-11-22T00:17:52.500-06:00

She walks into the bleak room, silent and golden, and she smiles at the co-worker she knows nothing about, and she sits down across from him. He's dark-haired and he wears nothing in his eyes, nor on them. He smiles at her very slightly, mostly with his eyes, and she notices. She doesn't know what to do, so she pretends to ignore him, and she looks down into her purse. Everything is blurry for a

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1132114544385751442005-11-15T21:43:00.000-06:002005-11-18T02:50:18.003-06:00

He, the book reader, sits down quickly, without breath, after filling packages and filling bags and cutting meat and breaking bones and killing. He sits down with no breath left in his lungs. There are sounds above him and beside him and below him, random clicks and melodies that have melded in to one long episode of noise pollution. A pretty blonde girl sits across from him, talking on her cell

Orusnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1131579821797493402005-11-09T17:28:00.000-06:002005-11-09T17:53:00.693-06:00

One Hill leads tothe King,And one Hill leads tothe Kingdom.He took the Hillin frontof his mothers grave.He traded livesfor the grasshis treelineabandoned.And the man replied:Peace!(We're)at piecesof Kings andthe Kingdom'ssongs were written in the tongues of dogs, sung by princes, killing, killing, and the man replied: Cry, Cry, Cry, for contentment, contempt, meant for the third choice, the third

Orusnoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1131071172217740572005-11-03T20:23:00.000-06:002005-11-04T04:44:43.286-06:00

By JAMEY KEATENThursday, November 3, 2005 Posted at 12:33 PM ESTAssociated PressAulnay-Sous-Bois, France — Rampaging youths shot at police and firefighters Thursday after burning car dealerships and public buses and hurling rocks at commuter trains, as eight days of riots over poor conditions in Paris-area housing projects spread to 20 towns.Youths ignored an appeal for calm from President

Orusnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1130968714957310052005-11-02T15:57:00.000-06:002005-11-04T04:41:09.666-06:00

American Psycho "the book" is far more graphic than the movies. This is good.You Shall Know Our Velocity!, the book I just finished, was genius. Dave Eggers is also good. Make babies.Update: Tomorrow is La Boheme, and I'm in a constant pre-orgasmic state because of this. I can't wait. I hope there's a forecast for rain.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1130222991702290612005-10-25T01:39:00.000-05:002005-10-25T01:50:36.290-05:00

Though I am content, I am still saddened. There are obvious reasons that some think are insignificant, that cannot be fixed, that nothing can be done about, and it becomes a vicious cycle. A cycle of four different and similar thoughts.1. Do your part. Vote, use your voice. "If god gave you a voice, then use it."2. No one else uses their voice. No one else makes a difference. Why should I

Orusnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1129878765221680372005-10-21T02:09:00.000-05:002005-10-21T03:02:34.463-05:00

Here it is. Love me. Love me. You know who you aren't.I know who I am. And it is far from what all of you think. One day my favourites of all of you will know. One day. But right now, I'm where I am, and I'm how I am and who I am is the only thing most of you don't know.I love you all.Here is a cheer for its power and its powerful nature.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1129801201826494472005-10-20T04:29:00.000-05:002005-10-20T04:42:11.773-05:00

You shall know our velocity!There is something in here that is far from pious, but is overwhelmingly spiritual. It is something that I

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1129518469672840192005-10-16T22:04:00.000-05:002005-10-16T22:10:32.266-05:00

I am ready. I am content with the fact that perfection is a thing sought in vain. There is little in this First World that is life or death, and I will not take advantage of that. I've realized that nothing matters nearly as much as we make things out to. I am ready. I am content with every up and every down and everything. I am home, and home is not my house. It's my hands and my paper, and song

Orusnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1129094522488828202005-10-12T00:03:00.000-05:002005-10-12T00:22:02.510-05:00

Destruct.Images.Genesis.Well, today I started reading You Shall Know Our Velocity by Dave Eggers. It's wonderful.I finished On The Road by Jack Kerouac. It's officially my favourite book of all time.Ireland...Ireland Ireland Ireland Ireland...That word is getting more and more beautiful.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1128918029648741182005-10-09T23:16:00.000-05:002007-02-03T22:18:40.647-06:00

So in America, when the sun goes down and I sit on the old broken-down river pier watching the long, long skies over New Jersey and sense all that raw land that rolls in one unbelievable huge bulge over the West Coast, and all that road going, all the people dreaming in the immensity of it, and in Iowa I know by now the children must be crying in the land where they let the children cry, and

Orusnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1128836097053842452005-10-09T00:32:00.000-05:002005-10-09T00:34:57.060-05:00

We know time, we know it, yes yes yes yes! yes! We know It and everything before us is It, and time, and we know time and that's why this cadillac can't break, and that's why this time won't ever disappear, and like mothers to daughters, we wil flee and escape to the same time we know. There is nothing like digging. Dig the jazz on 14th Street, dig the little pretty girls and the crazy Deans.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1128695193006108152005-10-07T09:25:00.000-05:002005-10-07T09:26:33.010-05:00

Well...Friday morning, 9:30 AM...I work in half an hour and I love the crisp morning air.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1128062421011027592005-09-30T01:36:00.000-05:002005-09-30T01:40:21.016-05:00

Pat the Busker is an interesting fellow. He loves Pearl Jam and he busks all the time. Me and Josh went to Shannon's tonight, after eating at Basil's, and on the way back we ran into Pat. We sat down and did some sing alongs for about an hour. Then we picked him up a beer from the sketchy vendor from behind The Zoo.He's a good dude...He's been playing for 14 years and is thinking of going to

Orusnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1127929119551304372005-09-28T12:33:00.000-05:002005-09-30T01:52:05.513-05:00

Seven days before, I’d left him, snapped, on the pavement. Carlie would’ve been proud, but I wasn’t. This was betrayal.It’s been seven days and I think it’s a good one-week anniversary present, me leaving him snapped on the pavement again.I can’t bring myself to look at him, because despite my knowledge of this betrayal, and my part in it, I am disgusted by him; broken on the ground, now beneath

Orusnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1127698697234274382005-09-25T20:37:00.000-05:002005-09-26T00:12:44.200-05:00

I'm farther from death than I've ever been. Her hair is black and purple, and he's looking like military. Stiff, poised, silent for more time than he is not. They talk of small towns and new houses that have sheltered far more than one family. We pull up beside The Orient, and I've mistaken a voice in the air for her own. He makes random small talk, and I wish I could travel even further. To the

Orusnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1127598379598926712005-09-24T16:42:00.000-05:002005-09-24T16:50:32.750-05:00

So I finished The Great Gatsby. Awesome.Now I'm reading On The Road, by Jack Keruoac. I'm on page 28 or so, and I can already tell it's going to be on my top five, if not number one. Genius.The Corpse Bride was fairly straight forward and short, but it was awesome. It should win the oscar for best animated feature over whatever crap Disney's recycling this year. But then...I'm of the opinion

Orusnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1127324914016922312005-09-21T12:44:00.000-05:002005-09-24T16:47:23.706-05:00

I've been reading much more lately, and it's a very pretty thing. I finished Brave New World a few weeks ago, and then just last week I finished The Englishman's Boy, by Guy Vanderhaege. Honestly, that's one of the best books I've ever read. And now I'm reading The Great Gatsby, and it's weird, because it's almost like The Enlighsman's Boy. They both take place in the twenties, and it's obvious

Orusnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1127285479745930042005-09-21T01:50:00.000-05:002005-09-21T16:39:55.960-05:00

Today was good. This is all there is to say. I hope more days turn out like today now.Here you are. Enjoy the beauty that is Sophie Marceau. Possibly the most gorgeous woman in the world.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1127086405239955922005-09-18T18:29:00.000-05:002005-09-18T18:33:25.243-05:00

Sometimes I say things because sometimes I just think harder. There are thoughts that come out, and are not necessarily set in stone in this blog of mine. There is room for change of opinion, on my part, in these posts.

Orusnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967314.post-1126760084284073872005-09-14T23:40:00.000-05:002005-09-15T23:10:25.780-05:00

My last post was masturbation.But it was the second time I've watched myself write. And it's the second time that my fingers moving like water over these keys hurt my chest.Since I've discovered that writing can be heartburn, I've decided that reading is a gorgeous thing.There is something, somewhere deeper inside me than I've dared tread so far. There's something there, and it's not lust. It's

Orusnoreply@blogger.com5