Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Sun is in the way

I have no such luck walking into a strip club and getting a bang for my buck.
What's wrong with me? My good looks too intimidating for them strippers?
Or is it my lack of sexual experience that makes me look like a prude?

All these people, all these crazy fucking people.
They walk together in their schedules and rush when they’re late.
I want to squeeze their brains out of their asses and kick their dreams out of their ears.
They aren't going to achieve shit with their morals and religions.
No education is good enough because the bar has been set too high.
They can’t even spell their own names much less read the classics.
The words will just slip out of their plastic heads in to the vacant emptiness of an A.

These people, all these fucking people.
What are they going to do when their families disobey them?
Why can't they see that the animals around them will feed on their flesh when they die?
They do everything so aimlessly because they think they know it all.
They don't know shit.
No one knows anything except for the first mothers to have birthed us.
But those life forms are dead now and their DNA is no longer existent.
The monkeys are the closest things we got to family.
My monkey mother and monkey father are the ones who feed me and who keep me out of trouble.
Not my human mother and my human father.
No, they live in the zoo and throw shit at the innocent monkey families.

These people, all these fucking people.
They have nothing to show for.
They can't get a job with all that hair on their heads.
No fucking way am I going to have my food tainted with black strands of hair.
I'd spit in their faces if they tried to put that in my mouth.
If I’m expected to eat such impurities, they should be expected to shit it out.
They should be expected to kneel down every time someone walks by them.
Ignorant cowards can’t even look me in the eye because I speak the unwanted truth.

These people, all these fucking people.
I'm not gonna stand here anymore and watch them criticize my sexuality.
If I want to have sex with a man, I will do it.
If a woman wants me to seduce her on the dancing pole, I will do it.
They don’t even know where their reproductive organs are.
Try explaining to them what an orgasm is and all you get is a shit-faced remark.
All you gotta do is tell all those freaks to walk on the left side of the road.
They’ll know you’re serious when they hear the sarcasm in your voice.
They’ll respect all your demands and will kiss your feet.

God damn these people… all these fucking people.

Monday, March 29, 2010

Kill me now

Writer's Block sucks.
I need inspiration!

A wonderful masterpiece by a man named David Bray.

Friday, March 26, 2010

Got nothin'

I just saw The Runaways with my sister
It deserves five stars because I don't think any movie can give you a better rush.
I'd watch it eight million times for the rest of my life.

Woman are alot more attractive than men.
They are more fluid and graceful in their movements
No wonder why men are so damn horny

I'm not a fucking lesbian,
But she's pretty damn hot

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Roger Murder (explicit)

Pumpkin Seeds/Broken heart/Queer men/Unequal Soul/Hateful children/Roger Murder

Roger Murder is a special kind of man. He presents every woman he meets with shivery chills running along their veins. He is a charming man but his good looks have failed him a countless amount of times. He’s fucked all the wrong women and loved the ones who can’t keep up with their own mouths. All his bad luck has left him swollen with insecurity and for these unfortunate events Roger has taken up bad habits and awkward fetishes: He smokes marijuana everyday and drops acid every chance he gets, he rubs the oil of pumpkin seeds on his dick to make it slippery and fucks the hole he punched in the wall. About once a month he writes drunken letters to his ex-girlfriend telling her that she’s a slut for leaving him all alone and that he would like his things back (she took the furniture from his apartment as well as his beloved cat) because he cannot live with just a sunken-in bed stained with sweat and semen and an old television with a broken antenna. Roger doesn’t believe in broken hearts because he never had one to break; his blood is pumped by a metal cylinder that takes the place of an abandoned heart.

Let me tell you a little secret about Roger Murder. When he is alone on Saturday nights, he likes to invite the queer men over from the straight bar two blocks down. He shares with them appetizers and soothes them with music. He is sure to mix small amounts of alcohol and sometimes roofies into their carbonated juices. When they are sedated and unaware of where they are, he lures them to his room and poses them on his bed. He starts off with friendly poses and as his lust grows, the poses become more naked and seductive. Eventually he gives in to his irresistible itch and strips the men of all their belongings. He’s sure to dress them up in condoms and lube and gets them ready for what he likes to call “A rainy day surprise”. He inserts all their dicks into his orifices, sometimes two or three at a time. He counts how many breaths he can take before exploding on the mens’ faces… he can never breathe more than thirteen. When he has a man fuck him in the ass, he feels a shockwave of pain as the hole tries to fit itself around the dick penetrating it. Then, he feels his whole body clench and release and his dick spurts all over his carpet, into a stranger’s mouth. When he has finished, he puts the men back into their clothes and shoos them away. He deletes all the pictures except for one; he keeps his favorite one and stores it away in a secret drawer.

At times Roger will participate in amateur voodoo sessions with an African tribal woman he found at Wall Street. He meets her behind an abandoned grocery store and gives her uterus a quick flush and seduces her. She pays him good money, but money isn’t what he wants. He wants to see her do a tribal dance, this tribal dance pushes her ghost out from her body and it floats aimlessly around the alley and looks for a new host to live within. She says it’s an unequal soul that can never be justified with the ordinary human. The ghost is not satisfied with the tribal woman’s body because she has multiple identities that don’t make sense and are lethal to many fragile creatures. She once invited Roger to one of her gigs. He saw that her audience wasn’t able to comprehend what they were about to experience. He thought “this woman is fucking nuts…” and in all truth, she was. She did her dance and everyone watched in horror and awe as her green ghost snaked its way out of her mouth and into the faces of hateful children. Her show was immediately stopped and she was carried off stage by eight cops. The audience she held was shocked and frozen with amazement, they couldn’t move their feet from the ground, they couldn’t even open their mouths to translate what they just saw, and they just stood motionless. Roger Murder noticed the mood of the crowd and clapped for his tribal woman with tearful eyes. He went home and peeled back his finger nails and eyelids. He mailed them to the woman for good luck and found a home in an unburied coffin. He will spend the rest of his life lying next to a rotting corpse that was never once a failure.

Roger Murder is, indeed, a special kind of man.

Busta Rhymes

We are on a conquest to conquer
We have eaten every piece of your damned father
The president couldn't decide if he should call her
Because the powered man's wife put him in a collar.

The Romans have built many substantial roads
They kept in mind the strippers who walk in loads
They fear to hear the sorrowful cries of poisonous toads
So they sing out a false cry of heroic odes.

Lately an urban wife has to fight to please
But her lonesome husband will never be at ease
Because his promiscuous wife is a tease
And the only career she'll ever be good at is one like a sleaze.

I hear the eyes are the window to one's soul
But what if all you see is coal?
Does that mean you are cowardly like a newborn foal?
Or are you just repulsive like your sister's mole?

Them Japanese only drink wine
And accompany it with the meat of swine
Don't ever ask a drinking man if he is fine
Or else he'll drown you in iodine.

I follow all my impulses
I'm in the middle of an inecscapable crisis
And now I watch a drunken man as he pisses
I hope he shoots and misses...

I'm going to come out to America and tell them I am a Communist
I wish for them to inject me with chemicals and spray me with toxic mist
I will only fight back with a defensive fist
Eventually I will agree to their demands but only if they insist.

If by will or if you do
The cops will find out that you are a Jew
Disappointment they meet when they encounter the star you stained blue
Crippled then, they will cut your nose off and feed it to the sickly few.

Your man lives amongst the black Cubans
He hides his scorn in apathetic hymns
He wishes to dance naked with the red Indians
But he can't walk because his feet were substituted for fins.

It's not for what you didn't do, it's for what you did
You struck me with a knife and hid
You're an addicted gambler with a startling bid
Too bad for you, you're overrated.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Are you being sinister?

“Most of the trouble in this world has been caused by folks
who can't mind their own business, because they have no business
of their own to mind, any more than a smallpox virus has.”

William Burroughs

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Oh, very nice.

 Today looks like a nice day to tan.
Or maybe I'll hang out with one of my sisters.

Outta body, outta mind.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Vacant Lot Troubles

Hello there, my nonexistent reader.
My name is Mandy and I am sixteen years old.
I hate the school that I go to and I so badly want to move to San Francisco.
I have an interest in most things bitter, negative, derogratory, and just plain sinister.
I also have an interest in love and happiness.
I am happy with my friends, they are very generous people.
I am not happy with my past friends and boyfriend for they are not generous.
Sometimes I write poetry and sometimes I write short stories.
I never like to share it with anyone because I hate criticism, although I'll be the first critisize someone else.
I'm a stubborn person and I tend to get mad easily.
I hold grudges and I can easily forget people who were once a big part of my life.
It's hard for me to open up to people because I have trust issues.
I've never been in love and with all my past realtionships I'm starting to think love is only for the lucky people.
I like to think that I'm mature for my age but somedays I can act like a five year old.
I have a very good memory and bad hearing.
I wish I wasn't so shy and could be more assertive.
Sometimes I wish I could've done some things differently, but its all said and done and I can't turn it around anymore.
I have a hard time letting go of things and I let my anger overpower me.
When I'm upset I have a need to hit something.
I usually don't act like myself when I'm at school.
I fear that people don't like me becuase I'm quiet.
I hate being in large groups; I get very nervous when I meet new people.
I sometimes compare myself to cats.
I say the wrong things to the wrong people.
I'm open minded most of the time and I have a large imagination.
I don't really know what I am passionate about yet and that bothers me.
I'm pretty independent and prefer to do most things alone.
I talk to myself sometimes.
I don't understand many things and I have a hard time accepting that.
I think this world is sad... I think many things are sad.
I look up to Janis Joplin.
I express alot of my emotions through facial expressions because I have a hard time expressing myself orally.
My mother is concerned for my well-being and I'm concerned for her emotional health.
I have a lot of confidence but I'm self concious about a few things.
I always daydream about sex, death, and love.
The thought of the world ending scares me.
I wish I could go back to 1969.
I want to meet someone who makes me feel like I'm going on a joy ride to heaven.
I sometimes like to make people feel uncomfortable and ask personal questions.
I wonder what I'd be like if I were to live somewhere else.
I've been told I'm a rather complicated person.
I like to live in a fantasy world.

Make you my pet.

Today started off great and ended great, but everything in between was just a little stressful.
Thank God It's Friday!
The weekend honestly needs to be longer because I don't get enough sleep during the week.
I wore my Janis Joplin shirt and was rather proud of my Latin teacher when he recognized her name written around my collar.
The presentation on Claude McKay went well. I'm glad to have gotten it out of the way.

I just remembered a conversation I had with my brother-in-law
Rick: Your middle name is Thomas?
Mandy: Not anymore, it used to be. I just like it better than Marie.
Rick: Oh, why is it Marie now?
Mandy: My stepdad adopted me so while they were changing my last name they decided to change my middle name too.
Rick: (nodds understandingly) And your first name is Mandy...?
Mandy: Ha...yes...

So the freshmen in my latin class are very annoying.
Today in the middle of the lesson a girl asks to go to the bathroom.
Jule: Magister, can I go to the bathroom?
Mr. J: Not right now. After the lesson you can.
Jule: Its an emergency!
Mr. J: Okay, well I'm almost done with the lesson.
Mr. J: Oh-okay then...G-go, go.

I'm not exactly sure what to do with my money. I'm thinking of the following:
A) Save it.
B) Buy clothes or some shoes
C) Buy a movie on iTunes
I think I'll choose C. Final answer.

Copy Pictures, Images and PhotosI need to get a bicycle buddy. This weather calls for a ride on the streets and perhaps some frozen yogurt. Yum!

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Et tu Brute?

0 Period Art- Colored a mutated drawing of my partner
1 Period Latin- Noticed a cute guy who now sits in the front (yay!)
2 Period Oceanography- B. Garcia and Alec are very hysterical when they are together
Break-Talked about the latin cutie with Em and Will
3 Period English- Talked to Fernandez and listened to a poem... then we read a poem
4 Period History-  Read aloud for a bit and took notes
Lunch- Talked some more about the latin cutie and ran in to my ex...and his girlfriend
5 Period Algebra2- Made a new friend and had my hair braided

I wrote this in math today:
The movie scripts of unwritten sound strike my ensemble and I have fallen romantically in love with a queer gentleman.

And this one came about right before I showered:
You are hung up on the phone
Yes, so I'm dancing; I'm dancing all alone.
Don't pay no mind, it ain't so bad.
I'm enjoying the view: you're body is scantily clad.

So this weather change was greatly needed because all that winter weather was bringing me down.
Thank God for Spring!

Mom: Try the yellow rasberries, they're like rasberries but they're yellow.
Mandy: I can see that...

I have to give a presentation tomorrow on Claude McKay.
He's a good writer but I don't care for his style.
No quiero, no me gusta. Ay, esta malo.

As one baker say to another: Butter me up, slippery and wet.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010


School is like hell, but the souls never get fully burned.

"I just miss the feeling of our bodies pressed against one another as you whimpered in my ear and we took deep breaths...," said the friendly B. Garcia
"You should write books," replied the nonchalant Mandy.

Teenage Boys + High School = aklsfjpasfj
I can't wait until I graduate!

These kids right here are damn cool.

Monday, March 15, 2010

I want you.

Undefining moments have defined the moment when I fell in love with you.
An interest in everything but yourself is to be sought after by a fine messiah.
Public agents are unworthy in the fact that they are not private.
Sound documents are useless to those who have failed their ears.
I never think about you because I always see you.
Don't think this is funny; this is how I feel about your addiction.

"Only the gentle are every really strong," said James Dean.