Don't Make People Angry

I found that I don't need to make people angry at all. For people are angry about the same things. It's a blanket statement that I wish I could disallow, but I came to the conclusion none the wiser. You see there once was a time in witch I thought that I could only truly know some one if, I got them raging mad. This led to much folly in my early adolescent years. But I learned from them and was completely and utterly embarrassed at the sight of my self. I now can put my mind to other things like human behavior. Such things stir a grate need inside of my soul like a monark passing wind on a dimly lit television show, with faces and posters plastered on every nook and cranny of meaningless existence. And so thus far I have been able to decipher the human code in entirety, in all its entirety. For I know now that what never knew should not bother me, because the unknown can be molded and formed before the present engulfs it in all its glory, and makes the thought concrete, like a stone statue in a park with shit placed on its slick pantaloon. But never shaking never wavering sits atop a sleet stone throne forever. Now of cores you have to know you and you alone when performing such an act against man and god. The trick is in making you forget that you ever had such action. Like an old obese glutton, not as sharp in the mind, not knowing tea time for cocktail hour, that says with out thought, "When is the next feast I am starving." Or the again old woman who cry's for the fifth time of an equally old mans telling of a story, never remembering the first time from the last. With all seen and unseen circumstances clouding your view you might wish to go back. But I would like to leave you with this blunt and unfiltered sight. There is no going back. Thank you…

I don't know how to finish storeys. I don't think I have ever been able to fully finish my storeys. Maybe when I was young I was able to finnish storeys. But not now. I can't finish storeys. I can't finish storeys because the story never stops. It keeps going in that world and in that paradime. I can only finish thoughts. I don't think that any one really ever finishers a story. I think they just finish thoughts. I've found the story goes one weather you like it or not. So how long will you let your story go on before your thought is finished?

Breathe

Blue faced and ready to go.
I can not stop the inevitable embrace.
Closer we come, until we hug.
Closed eyes and holding breath.
A pat on the back says its time to leave, “Please Breathe.”
She said, “Before I let you go.”

I said, “No.”
She said, “Yes.”
Standing toe to toe.

Holding tighter the fog comes on fast.
Still holding, I don’t know how long I can last.
“Please forgive me,” I pray to my god, and breathe in the devil.
“Now was that so darn bad?”

“No it wasn’t,” I said with her eyes on mine.
Then she walked off with a stumble, and a, “I’m ok.” So divine.

So if you find yourself in this situation, and asked for exhalation, have no hesitation.

A Middy Brain Drain

I was told today how I need to stop using the word I. The editor and chef said, "Its not an ok term to be used in journalism." That and we, you, and us are bad terms as well. Like the F word, is a bad word. You just don't say these things. I can see where they are coming form. But it is going to be hard for.......The Writer of This Article....to not use those god for sicken words.

October Strings

Wonderful October day today. I miss you, you all, I look all around me and I realize how I wasn't alone all along. I saw all of the people and wondered why I didn't know them and why they don't know me.

I met a con girl today, she had conned her whole life away. I told her my phone number was a cup of coffee.

I met a man on the bus breathing hallelujah. I told him he wasn't alone but didn't listen to me.

I felt an old girl with a feather in her hair. I told her I was here and I'd talk to her for a little wile.

I miss my friends I've never had, I miss my father and I miss my dad, I miss my mother and joy we had. I finely see the October strings. Black cats and hags never had it in for me. I never had it in for them. I find my self where I need to be and a place I want to be. I think its beautiful, when all around me is falling into deficit.

The world could end and any moment. An asteroid could hit us at any time, things happen. We have no insurance of survival. No one to save us but us.

For Every Job Application That is Filled Out in Vain 3000 Innocent Kittens Die!

People who know me will tell you that I’m not a violent person. But filling out job applications turns me into a different person. When I’m sitting at a table or desk filling out job applications. Filling out the same dam information over and over again and knowing that it really doesn’t matter if these employers know this stuff or not. Knowing full and well that I might as well fill out this application and throw it in the nearest waist resepticle. But when I get to a part that I just don’t understand, like on a dollar store application that asks me, what experience I desire to gain. I just sit there looking at the question for 30mins. First I think about the real answer, I want to gain the experience of making money. Then I think about how that’s not even and answer. Then I think about the answer they want me to put. Like, broadening my horizons in the work place. Then I think about how I just spent 30mins on one question, thinking deeply and philosophically, on a job application for the dollar store. I look at the clock and I see that I just spent an hour and 11 minuets on an application I’m not even half done with yet. It makes me a little angry. No it makes me border line psychotic. I want to find these people that crated this work of satin called a job application. Death would be too good for them, they need to suffer in the catacombs of hell! I really don’t know what happens its like something just comes over me that I can’t control. It’s a thrust for violence that I only get when I fill out job applications. It makes me wonder if the world would be a better place without job applications. Would there be less violence if there was no job applications? Would we all be happier? And more importantly if you don’t agree with filling out job applications why do you support a system that you don’t agree with?

I have a resume and it pains me to think that I need to write the same information that is on my resume into and application for no reason other then because. It also pains me to think that in some places I’m not aloud to go outside the application, not even with an attached resume. I am really good with people, but it never asked me that on the application. I can set short and long-term goals and get things done but it never asked me that on the application. I think I’m almost at the point of going around town asking for an application and writing on it, “Give me a fucking job!” With a phone number. I need a job so bad but I can not stress how much its killing my soul.

If I was in charge I would propose that businesses make there application process more user friendly. I think the business should make applications more standard and not expect them to be filled out completely. If applications are not filled out completely they missing content should be able to be found in the attached resume. Also the resume format needs to be standardized as well. I think if these where implemented we would have a happier community and less people out of work. All and all I think we all can agree that the whole system needs to be made more user friendly somehow. For the employer and the employee.

2am

Why do I always wait until 2am to start writing? It might have something to do with the fact that it’s just me in my underwear and the screen here, no one other person. I guess I could go on youtube and dink around but that always leads to more boredom then what I had to began with. Or I could google odd things, like ‘Vintage Underwear…lets see what we have.

http://shop.ebay.com/items/vintage%20underwear?_dmd=1&_cpr=249

I like the yellow and black ones. $15 yikes; that’s to much for a peace of cloth that no one ever sees. Google take me away to a better place! Um, ‘Shmuttyma’…not even google and find that word. Maybe it is time for bed. No one last time before bed. ‘Sunshine Jelly’…well what do you know. Strait from the sun. http://www.flickr.com/photos/serenejournal/2752198682/

Sunshine jelly does exist. Well its time for bed for me but I could be lying. Lying get it? Ha, ha, whatev’good night.