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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in crackity jones' LiveJournal:

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Saturday, March 12th, 2005
5:24 pm
More Info Later
I'm leaving for California Tuesday afternoon. And for those of you that haven't, you should add lucidjudas because that is my new journal.

Current Mood: out of my god damned mind
Thursday, March 3rd, 2005
6:01 pm
detour
looks like i have too much protein in my piss and not enough potassium. since when did junkies have to have a good diet? regardless, i did not qualify for the WSU drug study. looks like i am gonna have to settle for a straight job in the straight world and sweat it out with the rest of the writhing mass of humanity. i would have made more in 9 days than i would have made in 3 weeks at a regular job. fuck.

still aiming to land on the sunny west coast but exactly when is now pushed further into limbo. perhaps it is for the better? yeah, right, whatever. time to turn the flames up, figure out what the next move is and get the fuck out of dodge by any means necessary.



Current Mood: down and out in detroit city
Thursday, February 24th, 2005
4:20 am
welcome to liejournal.com
i am a person you can grow to trust.
i am the person you have always wanted to meet.
i am the e-person that will save you.
i am the savior of humanity as long as you are a manatee.
i am your hate and love as long as you like people that will wear kid-gloves.
i am a trusty type of rusty soul... older than you but more youthful than your hope.
i am the best person you have never laid eyes on.
i am nothing and everything all at once.
i am honest.
i am bvery lovely and loving.
i am the kind of person you can tell all of your secrets to.
i am end my sentences with prepositions.
i am your lover.
i am a hateful hatful of misperceptions.
i am full of empty promises and total lies, i say this with full-out lying on my mind.
i am a liar, believe me.
i am the most jagged diamond in the rough.
i am a very good friend, the kind that listens and never judges.
i am your warm blanket.
i am a pretty snazzy dresser, if you'd like to trade secrets.
i am warm if you were willing to touch me.
i am the person you lost track of along the way to where you are but you can still find me.
i am very available, even upon call, i make in-house visits.
i am affordable.
i am easily amazed.
i am the kind of chap that can show you where life is worth living and where it is worth giving out.
i am so very interesting that you will listen to me (even read this far).
i am the kind of person that would never insult your intelligence.
i am your favorite flavor of vanilla.
i am the salt of the earth.
i am trying to break your heart.
i am a skipping record.
i am a skipping record.
i am a skipping record.
i am a skipping record.
i am a skipping record.
i am the taste of blood within you nostrils.
i am death inside your wet hole.
i am death dripping from your eager rod.
i am deat death death death death death death death.
i am a skipping record.
i am a skipping record.
i am the shirt coming right off your back.
i am the sword hanging right over your head.
i am nothing at all.
i am a story tailor.
i am a story teller.
i am a liar and one half of a liar.
i am your favorite liar.
i am a bouncing rubber ball bouncing down the hall.
i am your favorite high school english teacher before he gave up.
i am the latest winner of the indianapolis 500.
i am the poster child for the apocolypse.
i am runny, red and a drop dead example of "taking too much time."
i am the last person on the bus.
i am an asshole (that is the truth!).
i am the antichrist (sorry billy).
i am an ex-adolescent pro-bubblegum unionbreaking homeless pro-bono lawyer just trying to make my name.
i am kissing the asshole of humaity, just trying to get a taste of life... aye aye aye aye aye aye.
i am the death trying to find the life they promised me.
i am the holiday la la la la la allah allah allah allah allah.
i am god telling you the atheists was right.
i am god's god hating him as much as you hated them.
i am not making sense.
i am the senses lying.
i am the tick-tock of every goddamn clock.
i am mucking up your friends page.
i am smoking a cigarette because i know it will kill me and that makes it cool.
i am unbearably cool.
i am trying extremely hard to blow your mind.
i am blowing hot air.
i am hot.
i am air.
i am blowing.
i am what i am and that is all that i am and so what if it is all i will ever be, i am what i am.
i am naked while on the internet.
i am bearing witness to a freakout.
i am not holding you responsible.
i am on the brink of being honest.
i am not holding you responsible.
i am not talking about you.
i am on the brink or forgeting to lie.
i am not lying.
i am not sure whn i am lying.
i lie all the time.
i am taking everything back to where it once was before.
i am crawling into the death cycle.
i am changing the song because this is killing my mindframe.
i am emo.
i am talking as long as i can so i can feel better about everything i have said.
i am trying to obscure whatever i have said by talking too long to be listened to.
i am making an inane liejournal post.
i am daring you to stop caring.
i am not caring.
i am not sure if i can still lie to myself as well as i lie to everything else.
i am pretty suicidal but not really planning on it.
i am telling you to look away.
i am drinking again.
i am listening to better reasoning on account of of my penchant for lying.
i am lying.
i am a letter and a number away from being your savior.
i am more interested in serving others than myself.
i am a selfish bastard.
i am forgetting to become a psychic youth for the sixth time.
i am as sober as i would ever want to be.
i am as ready to die as i would never want to be.
i am moving to california.
i am back where i started all over again.
i am the devil's piano.
i am a keystroke away.
i am what an am would never wish to be.
i am a hack within a whacks distance of changing the world.
i am as insignificant as your last girlfriend.
i am a broken i-beam on a condemned house.
i am the total and utter ineptness of the worst poet to ever wish his washy thoughts on a deaf world.
i am tring to hard to be hated.
i am going on and on and on and on and on and on...



Current Mood: welcome to liejournal, pt 2
Wednesday, February 23rd, 2005
4:26 am
horses
he beat the horse with twigs, then sticks, then stones. the horse was not yet dead so it curled it's lips. blood poured forth and tears ran dry. he beat the horse as if it was meant for himself so he was doubly less merciful than he had been in the past. he watched the horse from across the road and slowly backed away. he let the horse breathe it's last breaths while the sun set over the black asphalt and greedy green of the fields where it used to play. the horse had broken legs so it couldn't run away when a boy of only twelve decided to have his way. his way was brutal but honest. he never treated anything in anyway he didn't find to be true to how he felt. he let his emotional response take precedence in each situation. he allowed himself to be engulfed in his reaction. he relished relinquishing power to the beast within himself. he loved the death beast within himself. this love had put tears in his eyes. these tears were of no consequence when he turned his ankle in the drainage ditch that ran parrellel to the road. he couldn't see the stone that would break his ribs. he would have to crawl in the muck for miles to reach safety but that didn't hold the same appeal as dragging himself back to the beast he had just beaten. he would lie next to the dying horse with the same shallow breath. he would bleed with his victim and pray that the wolves would find them tonight. he prayed to be prey alongside himself. he would be an artist that became his art. he was lucky to have tripped, to be given the gift of being loved by the world in the same way he had loved it.



Current Mood: welcome to liejournal
Monday, February 21st, 2005
5:39 am
We Are Most Likely Fucked...

If he couldn't bear it anymore what chance do we have?  I don't know what else to say except "Fuck."

Rest In Peace Hunter S. Thompson...

Thank you Mr. Austin for bringing this sad news to my attention... I am going to go cry now.



Current Mood: mourning something heavy
Sunday, February 20th, 2005
3:25 am
these people scare me... that is how much I love thee...

thats_inedecent glazomaniac wellsjc trouserminnow homosaur  all scared me to no end.  I love all ov these people even more for frightening me in real time.  My drunk dialing was for serious and they gave me serious reasons to cherish it.  Onr fine day I will find myself in NOLA and it will be amongsr the best things I will ever hope to do.  Until that day I will envision what might be, but until then I will sleep with wounded eyes and a haggard mind. I love all of you!!!



Current Mood: love love love
Saturday, February 19th, 2005
6:36 am
Dreams Are Wishes That Never Come True, Visions Are Premonitions That Of What You Will Do

Tentative plans to move to No Cal are in the works. Assuming that my Guinea Pig plans pan out (Outlook: Good) I will have enough $$$ for a one way plane ticket to California, prolly to SF and a bus ticket to Humboldt County. Once in the land of milk & honey I will begin to work the land in an "off grid" enviornment. This means that I will no longer be a slave to government provided electricity, heat or water. This will also mean I will have to work hard to get seemingly simple things.  There are solar panels to provide for us as well as organic gardens to nourish us. I will still have internet access (awesome & essential). I will be able to run naked through the Red Woods. I stand an excellent chance of being free in ways that people only daydream about. Most of all I will get the best chance I could ever hope for to... be me.

I must admit my undying love for Detroit and all of it's archaic glory. It is a dying city. It crumbles and aches before me. It is trapped in a culture I cannot condone. It seeks to be "hip" and "neat-o" but it seems like a sad charade. Tonight further cemented my suspicions. I saw 15 yr olds hammering out screamo tunes (honestly, this kind of music makes the most sense sung & played by adolescents) and aging high school quarter backs slogging through Sublime covers (best described as the sound of Bradley Nowell rolling over in his grave). Cowboy Messiah played their most lively & fun set to date but it wasn't enough to overshadow the emptiness of the night.  At the Belmont I couldn't help but feel like I was amongst the worst kind of cookie cutters.  Perhaps I don't understand their culture, perhaps I am too jaded to ever relax but I felt like there was too much effort in the air when people ought to be cutting loose and dropping their guard.  I did meet some neat people, I can't condemn each individual.  It was the social atmosphere that disagreed with me.  It wasn't the entre, it was the garnish that lead me astray.  Shit... I don't even know what I am talking about.

On the 28th I meet with specialists at the WSU Psychiatric Division to discover if I am a prime candidate for a nine day in-patient test of an experimental amphetamine.  They will be testing whether or not, or to what degree, this new drug is likely to be abused by the general public.  If I qualify and complete the test I will make over $1000.  This should be enough to cover my transplant costs.  This experience will also go a long way towards inspiring me to write (chemically as well as otherwise).  My new story idea is not to be unveiled because I have become fairlt superstitious about such things.  I feel like I might be jinxing myself.  I feel like even suggesting the possibility that I have an idea that I might ruin it.  Even casually proposing the idea of moving to California seems risky.  I am certain that nothing is certain but god do I ever have a swelling hope within my ribs.

Any advice, positive or negative, is very much welcome.  I promise to play Devil's Advocate in every situation just to test the mettle of any statement.  Thanks.



Current Mood: seeking
Friday, February 18th, 2005
5:12 am
ev'ry one is doin' it but me (until now)

~cease_to_resist~



0vrdrivethoughtaint_life_grandamide_phaedrusanomalykantitypeasugarhighbigdutchlalacameo_role
car_vs_drivercatch23caughtfirecease_to_resistchickenpitacorpusdeicoscoscosdeckofhearts
diggduggdrickson_leersdrugsmugenterthesparrowfishwifefoolsgold13fraktur_deyegennifer
gustavlanghhallahhhomosauriwshideathjuliandragojustperceptionsjust_happeningkhirana
kiteskjeksuellkoalainfstationkumquatpielemming_radioliamtheruinerluckyhossmuhammedkun
newyorkisnownorthinapierce_greboplague_of_wordspleasure_dlayerquest4gr8nesserialkisserspeckle_pecker
spike8503subliconthats_indecenttomalotocamelotviolaleevioletinsanevogdoid___________du

LJ friendsCollage.

Brought to you by pratibha75 and teemus.


Current Mood: it is too late for any real th
Thursday, February 17th, 2005
2:32 am
this meme has been around the block...
If you woke up and I was in bed with you, what would be your first thought?
2:12 am
1:06 am
I'm Moving Far, Far Away
"I'd rather be a lightning rod than a seismograph."
-Ken Kesey



Current Mood: revelations abound
Tuesday, February 15th, 2005
2:57 am
Post Valentine's Vitriol
I love/hate all of you.

Tell me how much by commenting in record numbers with unrelenting honesty.


To quote ODB, I like it raw...

Current Mood: i smell like beer
Monday, February 14th, 2005
12:14 pm
From the Hagakure
Master Ittei said, " In calligraphy it is progress when the paper, brush and ink are in harmony." Yet they are wont to be disjointed!

Current Mood: cafe con leche
Sunday, February 13th, 2005
4:52 pm
THE FIFTH ESTATE

The Symbol...

An Excerpt...

The Subscription Info...

Click Click!!!



Current Mood: Anarchistic
Wednesday, February 9th, 2005
12:28 pm
Fast Times at Rx High

I was flipping through one of the local free magazine/rag thingies (every city has 'em, you know what I mean) and perused the usual want-ads for bar help and other such fare when I came across a few very interesting ads (no, not the escort services).  I think I have found a viable, short-term employment opportunity (again, no.  not the escort ads!).  What is this financial endeavor?  Professional Guinea Pig!

A few of the advertisments asked for 8 day inpatient treatment designed for either types of people, those that have trouble falling asleep and those that don't.  I honestly don't know which one I am, I'll let them figure it out.  Another requested "recreational stimulant users" for a 9 day inpatient study.  Getting paid to eat drugs and/or sleep?  One of them will pay $2000 for 8 days of "work."  Hot damn, have I hit the motherlode?  This treatment may be what cures my ailing wallet.  Anyone else ever do this?  Know someone that did?  What happened?  Was it okay?  I'll be making follow up phone calls to all of these clinics later today and/or tomorrow morning.  What questions do you think I should ask?



Current Mood: sweaty, boiling
6:12 am
such a pretty picture

I don't think I want to know what I was sayin' in my sleep.  Sixteen hours of tossing and turning in the middle of my living room.  The dreams were an unspeakable mishmash.  A swirling conglomeration of message boards and bars and people I have met, never imagined and never seen.  At certain points I became worried that I would miss the next day of my dream.  I was immersed, it was reality.  I had things to do, missions to complete and secrets to keep.  I was living a double life.  My dream had it's own stresses and joys.  I get no rest, even my dreams are complicated.  No stone, or pillow for that matter, is safe to hide my head under.  Everything smells like it is made up, like make-up.  It smells like someone else is in the room.  So long have I slept that my own odor has become foreign.  Is it me?  Probably... maybe.

I could just die right now.  I could.  The bomb didn't go off.  It was just my mind playing tricks on me.  No blast.  No rapture.  Nothing but my imagination getting the best of me.  The best of me?  Is it really the best or just all that I have left?  I wish I had more to say. 

I'll try turning off all the lights, burn some incence and light a candle...

a sack of flesh and a heap of bones
I already been told that once you leave you can never go home
no one ever told me how to build me own
letting down everyone gets harder everyday
I am bound to screw up in favor of everything eventually
it stands to reason, it stands to numbers
it is a gambler's game
blues so deep that they might be purple
aware of my arms, bending my knees

run
run away
run away
don't you stumble
don't you falter
you only have so much time
they want you at the alter
sacrifice yourself

this poetry shit is strictly for the birds.  maybe when I am inspired I'll write something I like.  For now, this drivel stands as a warning to myself.



Current Mood: milked dry, no good
Sunday, February 6th, 2005
9:23 am
real life tales of marginal excess

I went to a party tonight.  It was fun, funny and totally bizaare.  The girls seemed to like me, which is unusual.  Maybe girls notice me more often than I realize.  Either way, my ego is boosted.  One girl asked me if I was gay, which was kinda cute.  How sheltered she must be?  Or perhaps I just give off that vibe?  More often than I would like, men have hit on me.  All in all, it means I am pretty much what I consider myself... and what I consider myself is completely different.  I am not a man in the conventional sense.  I am not bound by a culturally defined gender role.  This is true, at least I think so.  At least I try.  Whatever.  I am trying to shed cultural norms on all fronts.  Hello ostracization!

Speaking of latent homosexuality (har har), today is the Super Bowl.  Hooray!  I wonder if I'll get to see Paul McCartney's nipple?  I dare hope against hope that the Eagles win.  More than anything I just want to see a good game.  Please, please, please...  just gimme a good game!

I should probably sleep sometime soon.  I feel dizzy and the direct sunlight isn't helping me much.  Good Night!!

Jimmie Lunceford!



Current Mood: sleeeeeepy
Thursday, February 3rd, 2005
11:25 am
Everyplace Is A Bathroom Wall

Things appear in the corners of my eyes.  I never catch them.  These are secret shadows.  Often times I think I see a figure, a cat or a person, and they appear to be staring at me.  I never make eye contact.  My heart has been pumping at odd rhythms.  I don't know if it is serious, nor do I really care.  I suspect my sleeping "pattern" may have a large part to do with this.  I should put myself up for experiments at a sleep institute.  Sleep has been an institution unto itself as of late.  My dreams have been increasing in length, occurence and sheer absurdity.  Last time I slept I was engaged in a roadhouse brawl, throwing adversaries from balconies and emptying full clips of ammunition into the chests of knife wielding maniacs.  I can't say I relish such violence so I doubt that any of this has been wish fulfillment.  Maybe it is a trust issue I am dealing with, but I can't be certain of it.  I suppose I can say that I don't trust my own opinions.  What turmoil is this?

The sun is spectacularly bright, the clouds spectacularly white and the sky is a humble baby blue.  Hard to believe it was so dark and cold a few hours earlier.  To mine eyes it feels like it has been this bright for tens of hours, thousands of minutes.  Perhaps it is all the TV that I have sat myself through recently.  Maybe I should change my contacts?

Last night I was at the bar.  The house band played Hendrix, Clapton and Cash.  They did justice to the material, which is always a relief.  There is no greater pain to endure than an overly calculated Hendrix tune.  In the background every TV set played the State of the Union Address.  The truth was spoken in sarcastic tones by the haggard patrons than suckled from the beer bleeding spigots.  They hid their disappointment well, or perhaps they have just come to expect folly and have gotten over it.  "Folsom Prison Blues" seemed more like an invitation to incarceration rather than a lamentation of time served.  On the restroom walls it read: "I will not change until the pain of staying the same is greater than the pain of changing."  Perhaps this is the last bastion of the free press.  Nothing written in magic marker on tile is ever taken too seriously until one has had enough to drink to marinate whimsically. 

My stomach hurts, I am going to collapse/sleep.  Please, I'd like a nice dream.  Pretty please...



Current Mood: kinda blind
Monday, January 31st, 2005
5:08 am
Inside Out, Vice Versa

I burnt my finger on a hot pan tonight.  Last time I burned my hand badly (worse than this, I assure you) I proceeded to drink Old Grand Dad whiskey until I couldn't feel anything at all except for my burnt hand.  I spent much of the night doubled over while clutching a frozen chicken breast.  Sometimes I would alternate between that and a hunk of frozen beef.  Come morning I had two spoiled hunks of flesh and my hand was scaly and numb.  I quit my job a few days later.  That was a couple of jobs ago.

I am gonna have to get a job very soon.  I know I probably say that alot.  Sometimes I feel like this journal is simply a documentation of my unemployment.  Other times I feel differently about it.  I may as well be that guy Beaumont fixed up with a plate of glass.  You can see inside my stomach.  Bile, venom, acid.

Diagram of Alexis St. Martin's wound (from Dr. Beaumont's book, Experiments and Observations on the Gastric Juice and the Physiology of Digestion, 1833)
"This engraving represents the appearance of the aperture with the valve depressed.
A A A Edges of the aperture through the integuments and intercostals, on the inside and around which is the union of the lacerated edges of the perforated coats of the stomach with the intercostals and skin.
B The cavity of the stomach, when the valve is depresed.
C Valve, depressed within the cavity of the stomach.
E E E E Cicatrice of the original wound."

Weekend Recap
It was a bittersweet weekend.  Friday night at Jacoby's was a blast.   Cowboy Messiah may get a weekly gig there so I am certainly excited about that.  It is such a nice, homie kind of place.  I felt extremely comfortable.  The bext evening I attended a nice little get-together at the Abreact.  I was very pleased with the music, and I met quite a few new and intersting people.  I prattled on about my own station in life with virtuostic self-depreciation.  I cut into myself like a concert pianist.  Maybe I just cut myself, I don't know.  I think I made a nice impression on people, but I can never tell.  I met a softcore porn director, he cracked me up.  It was a great little send off for my friend who is on the cusp of joining the Airforce fulltime.  He is going into the Bomb Squad.  More power to him, I hate land minds and nuclear warheads.  Still, I can't say that I am not afraid that he won't be different once he gets out.  To each their own.  To each their own...

I have been having ideas, but they are mostly halves and three-quarters of an idea.  I need a whole.  Wholeness is a beautiful thing.  I think working midnight shift is the best move I could make.  It would give me a better reason for being antisocial than I have now, which is basic ineptitude.  Plus, they usually pay you more for living like a vampire.  Hello frozen foods.  Hello scary janitor lady.  Hello stars, I hope you never burn out.  Burn like my hand.  Burn all night, but touch me all the same.

Today was a birthday party.  It was kinda neat, kinda sad.  It made me want to strangle the shit out of Peter Pan.  That bastard.   Maybe it is just me (it usually never is, at least I think) but I think everyone lets fictional characters run around inside their heads.  Childhood fornever.  For never again.

I need to leave this rock.

Watch out, I plan to repeat myself for the next week.  Mantra Mania!



Current Mood: not remembering
Friday, January 28th, 2005
5:00 am
Too Tired To Keep On

I was written in black magic marker in the men's room of the 7 Brother's Bar:

"If you need an outward sign to know your own, you don't belong."  - Wolfgang Saure

I was amazed.  It was the reason I left my house today.  I had a jolly time rollicking around while the nameless blues group treaded beer long enough to bang out a few memorable cover songs.  But I hadn't left the house for that.  I left the cozy warmth of my home to find something.  You never know if it is the utility truck carrying a ladder as if it were a pencil tucked behind it's ear or the absurd conversation with the 24 hour department store clerk claiming that the farmer's almanac has predicted the exact time the world will "end".  But it turned out to be old Wolfgang Saure.  That bastard gave me an ear ache.

Who the hell is Wolfgang Saure (Sauer?)?

"If you can't fall in love to Jimi Hendrix, you can't fall in love"  - Andy L

God, that bastard might be right.  Hendrix put a curse on me.  Long story, maybe another time.

Who the hell is Wolfgang Saure (Sauer?)?



Current Mood: Creaking and Crumbling in the
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