breathe in

first post. its probably not going to be good. so here goes.

THIS IS NOT THE END. EVOLOUTION IS ENDING BUT NOT TONIGHT.

so i overslept today and of course, with murphy's law this happened to be one of those super duper busy days at work where there will be much joy on monday when i come to work about my indescretion. i really think that everyone is allowed to be late, and if its two hours hey at least i called.

the ipod is a glorious thing. everyone i know that has one actually and truly loves theirs like its a pet monkey or somehting. i would love to have a pet monkey, but instead i have an ipod, and i think its just as good. what is a more fitting personal profile than a collection of someone's musical tastes? a friend of mine has 1500 songs on his, mostly showtunes. needless to say he's gay. last night we sat at the bar and had a little ipod party, comparing songs, playlists, bragging about who has more of what and who has downloaded more illegally than who. it was quite entertaining. the one person without one sat at the table like a bump on a log, his face long and sullen. it actually gave me a great idea. there should be a place, not online but in person, where you can share your ipod contents with others and just all have a good time. or you could have ipod night at the local bar, ask the dj to plug your ipod into the sound system and people can boo or cheer your mix. it would be fun.

ventilate(FICTION)

you think that this would be easy. after all i do have the power to level mountains, burn cities, make it rain blood across continents. you think i could find a single rebel. i mean come on. when he went down there he left a whole in the middle of asia the size of a small village. they still talk about it down there like it was some sort of exploding meteor or a rogue black hole. black hole, huh more like asshole. he leaves radiation burns on all of the monkeys in a hundred mile radius and then just fucking disappears into the forest like a fucking yeti or something.

and now they say that he is hanging out with her. one traitor deserves another i guess.

i still get hints of their trail every once in a while. in 1949 there was a blackout in st. petersberg, or whatever they were calling it then. when the lights came back on the monkeys were surprised to find five of their top politicians dead on the waterfront, throats slit, the flesh cauterized at the incision. nice work if i do say so myself. then the little prick arranged their bodies in a damn pentagram and put a sickle next to it, just like their stupid monkey flag. pretty creative i must say, but that almost started world war three in and of itself. stupid shithead never thinks of anyone but himself. ariel nearly got fired for that one, and michael was in a pissy mood for weeks. i personally had to impersonate a russian dissedent and have myself execuuted in front a firing squad. that was a shitty day.

in 1968 there was a man in san fransisco that claimed to have seen them together. he started some sort of church, said that it was based on the rock of the angelic wedding or some crap. in a big grand hoo ha they then proced to go to the center of golden gate park on some forsaken hill and fling themselves down one by one. each one had woven tapestries of the 'sacred lovers' clutched in their fists. that was probably her idea. i heard that she was like the patron of sluts and suicide or some crap.

other things have happened, random disappearences, killings, miracles, the usual, but for the past i would say five years the trail has gone cold. no blood. no disaster. nothing. so i sit here and i mull over a cup of coffee and watch the monkeys pace back and forth on the street. across the way some asshole decided to put a statue of me in like this fucking flower garden. i hate flowers. and he gave me one of those floppy things the boy monkeys play with so much. god gave the monkeys those and thats where the trouble started. i hear that whatever happened before he ran he got one of those too. i heard one of the girl monkeys say it the other day, something about the dick is always the problem. hell, that sums up the whole war pretty much.

nebulize

john mayer - my stupid mouth

esthero - heaven sent