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March 16, 2011 — Leave a comment

He said  that self-loathing didn’t necessarily apply.

He said that there were far too many things that he hated about himself to give it a classification.

He said that he thought it was okay though, because hating these things were hopefully helping him change.

I said that I hoped so too.

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March 14, 2011 — Leave a comment

He said that he wasn’t a fighter. But he never dropped his fists.

He said the world could be a real fucker and you never know what it will throw at you.

He said that he didn’t have expectations with one exception-he expected everything.

I sarcastically asked if he knew any other schizophrenics.

(he knows me)

Untitled

March 12, 2011 — Leave a comment

He said he often wondered if people could really be born to lose.

He said that he had been in the dirt for so long that he learned to live without oxygen.

He also said that he wasn’t a pessimist but was almost the opposite of an optimist.

I sat and wondered if born to lose would be acceptable if you were used to it.

I also wondered what alternatives would look like.

I didn’t get very far.

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March 8, 2011 — Leave a comment

He said that he liked Volvos. The boxy old ones that looked like war machines.

He said that he liked the old boxy war machine-ish Volvos so much that he was jealous of anyone who owned one.

He said that he was so jealous of the owners of these Volvos that he would tear off the drivers side mirror whenever he had the chance.

“War wound”

I said he was putrid. And a drain.

(But I didn’t mean it)

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March 7, 2011 — Leave a comment

He said he was giving up seat belts for Lent.

And possibly drinking water,

or talking.

He said that too much time spent doing things that could prolong his life were preventing him from living the fucker.

I said he was crazy. And an atheist.

Sleep

January 28, 2011 — Leave a comment

I sleep. I mean. I think that I sleep. Momentary glimpses of rapid eye movement fulfill quotas and masquerades the fact that  I can’t remember the last time I got a good night’s rest.

Meaning escapes and nonsense consumes overrun thoughts of greatness. Ciao for now I suppose.

15 hours later//

*********I’ve decided that not sleeping is the most detrimental to those that educate themselves and live by the contents of their dreams.

And now I wonder if dreams have the ability to bury or eject themselves due to inactivity.