| THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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just popping in to leave a completely useless post. there's no great earth-shattering message here. in fact, there's nothing here at all. the show's over. i've already taken over the earth, kicked intergalactic ass, hammered your most cherished ideals into obscurity & divested every teenager in the tri-state area of his virginity. & you missed it. but that's OK. i'll do it all again tomorrow night. i only filed this under "sex" to make you look. perve. but we can talk about sex. when's the last time you gave me head? perhaps i cheated by masquerading this gibberish as a sexual post. but you never do know, friends & neighbors. in the hands of any given sorabjiite, it could turn into a filth-fest yet. there's still hope for depravity. in fact, there's about a 90% chance. behold the ritual cleansing of the lemmings. behold the flailings of sisyphus in a cashmere sweater. sex. christ almighty. doesn't it all secretly boil down to having it YOUR way? it's like goddamn burger king. oh, yes. get all teary-eyed on me. tell me how it's all about the pleasure of The Other. & i'll piss myself laughing. confess. your dick rules your frontal lobe. your cunt will swallow the earth. you have rebirthed sexual reality in your own deranged image. the best sexual partner is the one you obsess on pleasing the most: you, you, YOU. every day, it's all about you. & that's a good thing. choke on the image of your own cock. it's the way of evolution. it's hip, it's happening, it's now. i want to get 300 times more hammered than i already am. so i will. see you real soon. |
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maybe i'll remember what the hell i was thinking about--this entire concept of "canine sack races"--when i sober up (approximately 2 years from now). the phrase sprang to mind while watching a cartoon. at the moment, it seemed like a spectacular metaphor for life. but so did masturbation. |
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.....Now picture in your mind, 10 or 12 dogs lined up, all drooling and growling as their masters hold tight to their leashes, their large sacks hanging low (the dogs not the master's), some sacks even touching or dragging along the ground. Peasants and merchants from the nearby castles are now lined up watching impatiently, The time comes and the dog master's release their hounds. The crowd goes wild, money is passed around as people make bets. The dogs run forward with a full head of steam, their gigantic sacks floppinp in the wind, some of the bigger sacks drag along the dirt ground leaving a trail in the dust. the dogs run after the pig. the pig dodges to the right, the dogs immediatly turn in pursuit, but their massive sacks dont turn immediately and instead they swing hard to the left, hitting the dogs legs, making some dogs trip and fall, one dog who is far behind desides to try and get ahead by biting down hard on the dogs sack in front of him. In responce the dog turns and bites its attackers sack, the dogs run in circles, sacks in mouths. Finally a dog is able to catch the pig and the Canine Sack Races have come to an end........ Hopefully that helped you better imagine these important historical races. |
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i hate my neighbors. (yeah, this sentence probably appears in every thread i've posted to since march 1--the day the sorry twats moved in--but i just thought i'd mention it again). it's an amazing thing. i never knew i could feel loathing this deep. the hell of it is, i'm stuck here for a little while & am just going to have to deal w/ their bullshit, somehow. phone's been ringing off the freakin' hook. everyone's got a crisis today. stuff straight from the jerry springer show. christ alive. if i had an abusive stalker of a man and a dozen kids from ten different jailbirds, i, too, could be enjoying this kind of paradise. instead, i sit here cursing my neighbors & conducting my quiet little life. i'm luckier than i ever imagined. no shit. lucky me. |
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people amaze me, they really do. some of the locals here are so astonishingly brain-dead (probably not unlike the locals in YOUR area, since crass stupidity seems to be an american epidemic). it's not just here. it's everywhere. the average lifetime achievements around here: drop out of school in junior high (if you get that far). hook up w/ a string of abusive fucks, one after the next. start having kids at 13. abuse the hell out of them. get used to walking around town w/ black eyes. act loud & stupid. barfights on the weekend. actively torment people who don't look & act just like you. take daytime TV as holy writ, w/ pro wrestling as the new testament. pledge allegiance to everything you see on television. act like a loud, boorish jackass all day long. i'm not saying that i'm infallible. i have faults. i'm undereducated. i don't understand a lot of things. i have a long way to go. but i value serenity above all things & it's so damn hard to find, because people seem so hell-bent on eradicating it. what is WRONG w/ these people, that they can't just settle back & let people live the way they want to live? why are people so loud & stupid? i'll never understand it, as long as i live. new career option: i want to be a hermit. anyone got a cave i can rent? |
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i imagined sock puppets nevermind but it was funny |
totally unrelated note: it's my wedding anniversary. 11 years. it's kind of weird to think that i found somebody who more or less understands me. i mean, i'm very mellow & even-tempered, but bizarre. i've been told often that i'm nice, but extremely weird. i've also been told frequently by people that they were afraid of me at first, but then they discovered that i'm actually gentle & laid back. i don't know why i spook people so. i've asked about it & they say things like, "you're so damn intense". last i heard, intensity isn't any reason for fearing someone. anyhow, all this is to say that my husband actually seems to roll w/ all my weirdness. he has a magical way of helping me cope w/ a world i don't really understand. he's a very, very cool human. i can't really imagine him not being there. we protect each other. i can cope w/ things he can't & vice-versa. together, as a unit, we manage to stay afloat. he makes me laugh. we don't have arguments (or the very few flare-ups we've had only lasted a couple of minutes, w/ no raising of the voice or other accompanying stupidity). we've never raised our voices to one another, ever. we spend so much time laughing. we have the weirdest marriage in the world. & it's cool. |
people say that about me (silly people) and i have no clue what's intense about me does he have a brother? |
i don't know why people find me intense. i guess it's because i don't sit around twirling my hair & babbling vapidly about the usual home-n'-gardens moo-cow crap. that makes me a threat to the Normals. so be it. just got back from ye olde anniversary dinner. it was pleasant. we didn't go anywhere overly fancy, but we did go over into the yuppie district, & man, is it weird. people sitting alone at tables yammering non-stop into cell phones about nothing in particular. they were eating alone, just talking to disembodied souls who weren't there. it seemed terribly empty, somehow. on an odd note, the women at the restaurant were mostly dressed similarly, in these weird, ultra-tight dresses that looked like something out of the early '60s. i guess that's the style now. anyway, some woman w/ humongous breasts that were about to fall out of her dress kept staring at me. she was bending over at the table. i could see right down her dress & she kept staring at me. she wasn't bad-looking. it was a weird moment, that's all. i want to move somewhere better, that's for sure. but the venture over into yuppieville made me wonder if i could hack the wealthy zombie crowd. they kinda spook me, somehow. there seems to be something spiritually amiss there. but that's probably just me being presumptuous. they may be the coolest folks in the world & really have it on the ball. maybe they could teach me a few hundred new tricks. it's already too hot to spend much time outside. 90+ degrees & humid as hell. i hate summer. i hate summer almost as much as i hate my neighbors. but not quite. |
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no offense taken. aside from my everlasting threats to decapitate my neighbors & firebomb the entire fucking town, i'm a real marshmallow. i do prize serenity. very much. i can be violent in my speech & writing, but that's an outlet. i do that so i DON'T behave like a total creep during my normal waking hours. i use words as a sort of exorcism. sure, i'd like to bludgeon my neighbor's skulls into a thousand bloody toothpick-like shards...but i'd much rather have them just leave me alone, instead, so i can conduct my nice, quiet, serene life. serenity. it's my operating principle. in fact, i'm a veritable fucking buddha of serenity. i do wish that i had a lot more silence & calmness in my life right now. i'm going berserk from the perpetual noise. doesn't anybody just sit still & listen to the silence any more? |
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adoration always makes my day. & of course, i adore you, too. =) |
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i have to go pee. |
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adoration. it's kinda like radiation, only more interesting. |
severe weather here. i'm about to have to get offline & dodge the next round of tornadoes. massive storm moving in from the west. the earlier storm, a couple of hours ago, had hail, intense lightning, 80 MPH winds, & tornadoes (but none of them touched down here). the next storm is supposed to be worse. it's now crossed the state line & heading toward my place. that's what the weather guy said. "crimson," he said, "this throbbing bitch of thunderstorm is heading right for your apartment." OK. i made that part up. about the weather guy. but not about the storm. i'm in a weird mood. thinking about this friend that i had in my early teens, wondering whatever happened to her. her father used to beat the hell out of her. he was a preacher. he told her that when it stormed, it was because god was angry w/ her; she had to get on her knees & pray for god to stop being mad at her & make the storm go away. he said god was punishing the whole city w/ a thunderstorm for her transgressions. he used to beat her. he made her strip for him & then get dressed again in the tightest clothing she had. he told her that god had punished her by making her ugly. she was a beautiful blonde girl, but she thought she was an ugly fucking troll. she believed everything daddy said. she was terrified that she was going to go to hell. it's storming. all these years later, she's probably out there, still praying for god to stop being mad at her & make the storms go away. or maybe she got a gun & finally shot the old man. i really don't know. |
maybe it was completely dopey of me to wonder, as i did in the above post, what happened to someone i haven't seen in about 20 years. but still, i do find myself wondering sometimes. different case: there was this no-necked dumbshit motherfucker i knew back in high school. he used to follow me around a lot, giving me constant hell (he was a jock, so it was OK). i finally put a screeching halt to it by publicly humiliating him in front of all his sub-literate loser friends (long story). anyway, i don't wish him ill, but i do kinda hope he came to a perfectly mediocre end. i heard he knocked someone up right out of high school & married her, even though she was always a total bitch to him. perfect. hope he's pumping gas somewhere in the boondocks, hearing his wife's yammering, bitching voice in his head like a fucking two-ton gong, & secretly whining for the glory days, when he got to randomly kick around nerd-girls for jollies. high school doesn't exist for education. it exists solely to create a tantalizing series of revenge fantasies. |
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Trees fell, not on me Revenge a dish best served cold High school teaches that |
i WISH my brain spewed out words in neat, concise, summarized, easy-to-chew portions. then everything would be easier. i can't promise that my writing will get any shorter or easier to read. i'd have to saw off half my brain to make things work out like that. but your suggestions have been noted. dougie--your haiku rocked. tell you what...you can just follow me all over the 'net, summarizing everything i say, so that nobody misses anything. ------ lightning kissed the skies over wal-mart. i'm back & in love w/ the world |
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usually, it's just my husband & i, but this time, we took others along for the ride. i was filmed swimming in the gulf of mexico (spooky...now there's footage of me in a swimsuit somewhere). we just had a gentle, cool, laid-back time. while i was down there, i hung out underneath some sort of gigantic bungee tower one evening. i noticed that the female jumpers squealed a little bit, but then laughed as they fell. the male jumpers, however, screamed & cursed all the way down. each customer got 2 jumps for their money...the women didn't make much noise the second time around. the guys still screamed & cursed. i watched all these brave young souls defy death, while i calmly rested on a sand dune, munching a box of krispy kreme donuts. the jumpers never saw me. i could've shot them as they flew through the air. that same night, i went out onto the pitch-black beach & sat at the water's edge, listening to shortwave radio. i swam in the water (w/o the radio). i just felt wonderful & alive. two drunk teenage chicks finally came wandering up after the tide rolled out. on tape, i used them as the subject of a brief pseudo-documentary. where did they come from? what manner of creatures might they be? & how could we get them back to our hotel room? spent a lot of time in a cemetery, too, & did some taping there. it's a cemetery i'm thinking about getting encrypted in someday. some of the graves were decorated w/ sparkling mardi gras beads. it was great. a calm, laid-back time was had by all. a great vacation. lots of love & joy & all that shit. i probably won't get to go back to the beach until september, for my birthday. but i'm counting the days. i wanna go back. wish i could go tonight. |
The vacation rocked Should have shot bungee jumpers Love & Joy & Shit |
like the word "world". crimson had it as one syllable up there, but if I had been left to figure that out on my own I would have been stuck between one and two: (1) world (2) worl-d I know. it's ridiculous. |
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Sounds like a good time to me Who needs to jump, though? |
The full sun in the corner. I made it yellow. I have been thinking In haiku also, Dougie. It's terrible, yes? Vacation sounded Like fun, Crimson. Glad you went. Vacation sounds good. |
painting the sun bright orange w/ fangs like razors. i was so morbid & depraved back in grade school. shrinks were called. i laughed. i played doctor w/ nasty little boys who'd drop their pants for pennies. liked playing doctor. still do. but now w/ better meds, knives & scalpels. |
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