| THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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albuquerquerueque cops are smarter than most. saturday night. my cohab turned the cable on. it's time for cops. cops cops cops. ah butane spark pot. ah. today was a good day. i slept until 12:30. rolled over and hit play on the vcr. watched the last 2 hours of "the sound of music." i had started it up last night, but passed out after about an hour. i love julie andrews. i'm not even gay. and the eldest girl. lizel? whatever. i am sixteen going down on natey. dada da da, da. da. tracks. blisters on the fingers. busting someones tia for horse. cops. i'm drinking this argentinian cab. it's horrible. i had read that the chilean merlot under the same label was well done. the struck out with the cab. it is said that at any moment the technology possessed by the US government is 10 years ahead of that known to the public. this is all fine and good, you know. so they had the ability to seamlessly introduce actors into existing films back in the late eighties. so what. but what happens when implementation of economical time travel becomes public knowledge? wtf will that do to this 10 year rule? "a she admited to smoking crack three hours ago. she sent someone in to buy it at this trailer park. this girl. this girl went in but never came out. basically ripped her off." ah the good boys in blue are giving the old lady some gas. shit. this is in the wrong place. i should have posted elsewhere. i hope patrick posts something about "you expect us to read all that"? maybe i should methion MK Ultra. methion. mention. LSD. it's for highschool kids. just like asssex. three s'. asssex. i've been thinking a lot about the reasons for doing things. that and morality,. are these the same? no. anyway. there are readily available phraseries regarding what you do and the meaning of life. ie. don't do something you can't fycj,' lost that. anyway. this class i just took in Torrance, CA (the armpit of LA the armpit of California the armpit of the USA the armpit of the World.) This class made me realize what I could be doing if i prioritized my interests. If i brought to the front these computers and their languages and the architectures of fiction we use to control them. If i could only make my 'career' that thing which I devoted all my passion to, i would be such the glowing star in the geekoid universe. But i just can't give a fuck enough. I'd much rather persue the mental handjob that is whatever else i do. writing. music. reading important books. wtf. it's all bullshit. nirvana is in MGD, football sundays, a lawn to be proud of. nirvana is in living there instead of visiting there on the weekends. and if that means you work at the TrueValue and live without perks, sobeit. you stop in a the brewery every night on your walk home, who needs the computer? who needs the whatever? and then you get me here, using my wasted muscle. pseudointellectual drivel on a saturday night. bitching and moaning about my good life. you know, i live with a beautiful woman. she is gorgeous. when i wake up every morning, there she is. sleeping. gorgeous. "haven't i arrested you before for possesion of marijuana?" "probably" "you sure carry a lot of marjiuana for personal use. and what's with all these baggies?" i love it when the cops say "mara JEW wanna". the cop tells us that marjiuana may be legal in other parts of the world, but it ain't here, now. albuquerque. it's legal here. now. mendicino, CA has an initiative on the november ballot to make recreational use legal. of course, a county cannot go against state law any more than state law can go against federal, but it is the thought that counts. speaking of recreation, i should recreate a little burning of the bush in 1/8 scale minature. or whatever. salad bowl. this pipe has no carb. it freaks me out for some reason. my specially conditioned pinky action still flares. "if you're honest with me i can be leniant" cops. fucking liars. i love it. "can i have your conscent to look in the vehicle?" "oh yessir. yessir" damn. that's just one buttugly prostitute. they're always hot in the sex movies. "nooooo. he's my friend. he's not a trick. he's not a trick." a lesson on the glass-pipe/pushrod/brillo connection. better than PBS, cops is. snot rags. everywhere. gorgeous woman. sloppy with the snot rags. alright. america's most wanted is in espanol tonight. i need to go devote my full attention. xoxo nate |
Menodocino, and it's been on the ballot for years. I vote yes every year out of reflex, every year it passes, every year it gets turned down somehow. We legalized medicinal use (I guess all of NoCal did, actually), and people are still getting arrested for it. The po's here are terrible. Mendocino is in the heart of the emrald triangle. The streets are paved in pot. The kids in the high school look like they haven't been off it since they were six. Sometimes I walk by the Bakery, where some of them hang out, and I get depressed thinking about all those wasted minds, all those clothes smelling of pot, and they go back to the school and? Nothing. The teachers figure they don't want the students if they don't want to be there. Sometimes the truant officer comes through and they just spit and throw empty beer bottles at him. They get drunk on the streets and reel around screaming about Big Brother. Someone wrote in big letters outside the Coffeehouse: "Big Brother is always watching you." The cops love to pull them over. Beater cars, always carrying six kids, who tumble out like clowns when they pull over. "Sorry, Officer, it won't happen again. I didn't realize my taillight was out, sir." Sometimes they pull them over, trying to get a DUI. The kids say they want a blood test--it means going to Ukiah, an hour away, and they figure by then it'l be out of their system. The abandoned houss sport eight-foot tall pot leaves painted in Cal-Trans colours until the house looks like something out of Alice in Wonderland, and wild roses engulf it. During harvest season, huge helicopters haunt my dreams. Night after night, they sweep the forests, the coastline. I remember in high school my best friend's mother (50) tried to rescue all her plants before the helicopter landed, was running through the woods with greenery flying everywhere, almost got arrested, then did get arrested, was let go. My best friend and I laughed about and then her mom started selling us acid. Sometimes you can walk through the woods and find a huge open meadow, filled with plants, look close in the woods and you'll learn the markings. I was smart. I started raising opium poppies. No one cared. I said they were pretty flowers for my garden if anyone asked. I had a big field of them, took from the middle. The local radio station tells you when the helicopters are out..."A word to the wise," they say, and then they play a tape of that "thok thok thok" everyone here knows. Sometimes they buzz my house. I'm not a dealer. Never was, never will be, but I live in the woods and the woods is where it's at. My house looks like a giant warehouse, since that what it used to be. when we had good policemen I used to invite them to dinner. Sometimes I wonder what I'm doing in this shithole with no good jobs, and I think, gee, it's pretty, isn't it? I don't have a TV--the loonies around here are entertainment enough. I was sitting in the hotel room watching Irish television, got hooked, sat there for hours until Brendan came in and said "what are you doing." I realized the screen was blank. The stars here are so clear I feel like I can reach out and touch them. When I had 20/20 vision and good depth perception and the use of both eyes I used to go out and watch them and feel like I was swirling in the middle of the dancing nebulae. Then I discovered darkness, found the stars again, but they are only indistint inperfections in the corner of my eyes without my glasses. We used to go out and sit on the rimy grass and watch the stars move through the heavens and I used to think "what am I going to do without him?" When I lived in Elk I would ride through the cowfield where CalTrans stored their equipment and steal signs. Sometimes I came during the day and talked to the workers and now that I pay taxes to support them I want to laugh at the waste. The first time I remember driving across the Golden Gate, I could swear there was only one tower. Today was a mediocre day. I woke up and read the legend on my wall and turned over and started reading a book. Doctor Dolittle in the Secret Lake. Don't laugh. Lofting isn't for little kids. I dare you to find a copy and read it. I remembered to eat and I went into town to mail the zippo to Patrick and I bought a big bottle of Skky and here I am. My best friend betrayed my confiodence yesterday. ox Isolde |
shit, i misspelled it trying to correct your spelling and then i went off on a long and involved rant and forgot about it. M-E-N-D-O-C-I-N-O Yay! I can spell! |
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What's odd about that is that I say racism is always racism, no matter when the person was speaking or writing, and a former teacher/current friend, believes that as society changes, racism changes. Yet, he thought Lofting was racist and I disagree. Nowhere, in _all_ of the books I've read, have I seen a statement which I think is racist. Anyway. You should go read that Lofting. |
I wanted to use the word "tia" in my scrabble game with agatha this morning. but it's not english. "tijuana" comes from "aunt jane," I think. |
Isolde, i don't understand. do you pity the chitlins? do they follow your ascent (descent?) how easy are opium poppies to cultivate? what takes it from sap to product? i have a sinus/lung infection. cold or something. yesterday i donned a mask and vacuumed out the mold in the third room. it's not really the third room, we just call it that. it's the room that catches the water that falls through the gaps when water puddles on the side deck. this doesn't happen anymore. also, this is the room that the dryer would exhaust into. and the washer outlet leak was there. so yesterday i vacuumed up the mold. and i rerouted the dryer exhaust. and i patched up the washer outlet pipe. some day i'll reroute the washer outlet to the septic. until then, it puddles above the creek. anyway, my lungs and sinuses. i can't tell if it is the cold or the spores. if i die, this is what happened. today i moved boxes. cleaned house. rerouted soul. so what was the hootanany on the radio about the recreational legalization? fuckers. trick me every time. this world. liars. crooks. fuckers. |
Opium poppies are very easy to cultivate. They grow by the side of the road just about anywhere, inland is best. They are legal to have in your garden, it's just when you start slicing the pods that people get anxious. Rather than explain manufacture to you Yes, I do feel sorry for the kids around here, since some of them just end up wasting time and becoming homeless stragglers wandering our roads unhappily. It depresses me. I drank a lot in hhigh school, I dropped acid, I did opium, but I pulled out of it in time to go to school. (and then move back.) But I'm moving soon. Too expensive to live here. I debate the merits of legalizing the drug with people--it's really hard to say what the long-term effects would be. The economy here might suffer, since pot and tourism are our main sources of income. It's storming here. I need to go stick pans under all the leaks and watch the mildew drape across the walls. |
This guy http://www.greens.org.nz/people/tanczos_n.htm is very behind it. (hes also kinda cute in a dreadlocked way) It will be interesting to see what happens. Our fines etc are not so harsh here as there for having dope. If it goes thru I think it will be strict - ie no smoking in public, age limit etc. They have just lowered the drinking age here to 18 (it sucks - stupid 18 yos), and put the ciggie smoking age up to 18. (I've been asked for id once). Actually this link http://www.norml.org.nz/norml/Files/News/nandor_elected.htm is better. |
http://www.norml.org.nz/norml/Files/News/nandor_elected.htm |
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my "superiors" wouldn't let me go to Torrence. I looked at what you had to say above and realized they were looking out for my best interests. I wished i could have shared a crappy pilsner at "Hungry Fisherman" seafood resturaunt in that generic hotel in that generic, wasted cargo hold of a town. Next time pal. You never tell us about your pretty girl. Us virtual slacks would like a touch of fresh air to add to our own mundane existances, share share. No wait, that implies some sort of shortcoming in our lives that can only be remedied here.......NO.....my shotcomings and their soultions have nothing to do with any of you..... Questions to break ice with: Does she prefer to do her nails her herself or does she get them done? Does she like Tapatio on her tacos? Did the last sex advice column she read offer her anything insightful? Vodka or rum, which is most likely to have her over the toilet and you holding her hair? there thats important stuff. |
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it wasn't. that was years ago, though. she does her own nails. she doesn't read advice columns. she mostly goes chimichanga. no sauce. |
I've been eating a bunch of Indian food lately. Yum. Although people are suddenly finding it less fun to be around me after I've eaten. Wierd. Anyway. What's here favourite colour? |
purple. |
Purple ist gut. |
there is an excellent sushi dig in arcata. arcata? arcata. you know. |
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