my brain just threw up a little…

February 21, 2016

Jason, this is for you.

gun control? anyone?

February 18, 2016


Filed under: Daily Crazies,dreams,random crazies — Sol @ 3:25 pm


New image.

Salt covered silver retard spills out on bouncing rotting rubber out of transmission place into my sixty five and rapidly slowing path. Dumb fucking kid. Three other people in that car will never know how close they came to ending. The one with the flat visor on his sports lid probably has her attention at the moment. Probably doesn’t get enough of it nightly. Her glasses are small, round and as thick as her fucking skull. Her cow-lick curls are from the 20s and her adhd glaze is from 2000s. I avoided that collision like a stunt-driver I am not. I hope she gets ass herpes from this phony wankster.

Fuck ’em. I am alive. Screeched by less than a foot away from his mom’s world being crushed between bulletproof corpse glass and a plastic bag showing a few links of fat, blood stained chain, worming into the rest of her life, like the smell of his. Vanishing.



Chat-girl, ex-gymnast or cheerleader or some other breed that’s usually cute and knows it. She plays disappointingly dumb because her alternative would be to admit that life is a scary bitch and that’s too honest. Her past man is a dead-eye and that’s not his choice. I am not fixing that. For them like for so many others it all stopped being about love when little girl inside her stomped her foot and castle was denied. She spent hours proving to me that dead fairy tale is really dead, and that this movie or that movie is not at all about love but about reckless attitude and her mother’s wrinkled kind hands cannot argue with that. Budding ex-athlete will win the fight with this romantic bullshit and her convictions will prove everyone wrong when she will white-knuckle her then-wrinkled hands. I do not want to wear deadeye mask and she can do a lot better. So we chat about cute. I am thinking about the smell of a gas-station attendant in the back of the walk-in. Thick vaggy wafting over spilled chocolate milk and stale tobacco. She farts. I quit pretending. She doesn’t. Cute ex-athlete is still reacting to my banter. She thinks I lied when I said that I am not going after her precious vagina. I am not that lonely. I’d rather go back twenty years and hero-bang that freezer fishfart with her extra pudge and guilt.


Sickly jizz colored lawyermobil with new swastika on the hood and a plastic eighteen year old cemented to the passenger seat with orange tan and elegant diamond handcuff is lining up bumpers with me at a traffic light on the street with beirut sized pot-holes. Grey hair slick back after retreating hairline, he grins at my tired economy method of transportation and says something to the child without turning. She pushes them up and touches his ear and neck with her fingers trying to get him to turn. How dare I, the fucking pleb, compete with her magic. She sees me sidelooking at her fingers. Splash of green from traffic light saves her from understanding that I was thinking that she uses same two fingers to massage his grey-haired prostate when she tries to work her way out of the fake orange skin and into his trophy-case.



Mouthbreather with her discordant throaty laughter and pudge stretching her polo in all the wrong places is trying to do something I am too tired to wrap my mind around. She does have a cheerful spike to her attitude, but I can’t help myself and I keep thinking that it is as appropriate as smiling back at facial contortion of rigor mortise. She likes dogs. She is half my age. babies… no baby daddy. four baby daddies. three babies. no, there isn’t one in the oven. Just confusion over the last kid. daddy three is not really daddy, but he could’ve been. possibility is being presented as if he tried to take her by force only never did but wanted to and now will pay oh god she is fucking insane please let me hide you are a revolting fucking creature i would hate you I just can’t let myself slip into hate.


home.dogs. food.bills. dry dogshit. email…


Why is SHE even talking to me. Is my attention really THAT good?
neah, there is always a ploy or plot or some other heinous fuckery that will result in …

dry dogshit… I have to clean.
end image.
more bills.


Filed under: Daily Crazies,dreams,random crazies,screen-shots — Sol @ 1:20 am


February 16, 2016

Ya’ll need Jesus

Filed under: commentary,dreams,heinous geekery,random crazies — Sol @ 6:22 pm

… or at least this here stuff.

September 7, 2015


Filed under: Daily Crazies,dreams — Sol @ 4:57 pm

Rain. Thunder. I was biting into an apple when thunder cracked across the clouds.
IR: “Crunchy.”

April 25, 2014

From an earlier conversation with a friend who was angered by some folk

Filed under: Daily Crazies,dreams,lawls,random crazies — Sol @ 3:26 pm
“…think of your enemies suffering from dysentery. Visualize them gasping for air in convulsive throws of debilitating bowel cramps. Cherish every moment of their white-fisted dry-heaving anal screams. Indulge in their every tear for soon they will dry with fever and be washed away with cold sweat, as Death’s cold hand will grope their shivering knobs to drag them off to that special place where they will stay frozen in perpetual shitty fucking cramp.
(feeling better?)
(ok, there is more)
Entertain the idea of your enemies getting seduced by thrills and dangers of traveling by sea, so they would get washed up on the shore of some unfriendly island filled with cannibals and their amazingly unpleasant and ugly children, all sick with dementia from eating their cousins.
Oh what feast will they be a part of…
(any better?)
(still feeling a bit off?)
(well, here, this should cheer you up)
Humans are social creatures, and once devoid of needed social interaction they are prone to losing what you would call “touch with reality.”
This fate has befallen our good gentleman, and being out of touch with reality while still thinking himself a doctor (inspite of what those Committee fools had said), he planned to improve the very condition of human interaction
And so he trapped himself your most prized three enemies…
and eventually this three became stars of this film…
“Human Centipede”


December 12, 2013

random transcribed bit of a convo with my boss

Filed under: Daily Crazies,dreams,random crazies — Sol @ 1:26 pm

Rapunzel gets scalped and her cries are heard for hours, while her sadistic mother is decomposing in the kitchen. Mother is in the kitchen because, you see, these two youngsters paid her a visit. Rapunzel’s Mother has something of a history with these two youngsters. She got them busted “stealing” from her garden. Technically it was an act of vandalism, but she lied to the cops about it being a theft to make sure these two brats get the jury. The two youngsters had returned and poisoned her iced tea with about 500mcg of LSD and left her with a diabolically convincing note that told her that the only way to escape  her toxic kitchen is through “that hatch.” On the obverse of the note there was a crude but convincing drawing of the oven.

The whole place goes up when a stray rabid dog goes clawing at the door and accidentally pushes the doorbell. Spark from the doorbell ignited the gas in the kitchen.

Resulting explosion startles a trapper who shoots his buddy in the face with a shotgun and then goes back to ruling the country

Press finds out but he gets off with a slap on the wrist.

Oh… the high-school sweetheart who scalped bed-ridden severely overweight Rapunzel – he is happy with the trophy and is back to selling ice-cream off a little truck in Bronx.

He is very good with kids.


September 17, 2013


Friends do that. Damn good real friends do THAT.

September 15, 2013

friend of a friend of a friend’s FB

« Newer PostsOlder Posts »

Powered by WordPress