Thursday, July 09, 2009

everybody hates ernst hemingway. why do you hate ernst hemingway.
he lived up north and blew his brains out with an abercrombie and fitch
shotgun. you should hate yourself, .... instead.

To Crazy Christian

There was a cat named Crazy Christian
Who never lived long enough to screw
He was gay hearted, young and handsome
And all the secrets of life he knew
He would always arrive on time for breakfast
Scamper on your feet and chase the ball
He was faster than any polo pony
He never worried a minute at all
His tail was a plume that scampered with him
He was black as night and as fast as light.
So the bad cats killed him in the fall.
--------- hemingway c. 1946

i was walking down the path towards the sun, and then turned around, and grabbed my bike. i saw this person. i had a tennis ball. phreddy at the liquor store wanted it.

peanut butter cups. i was at the grocery store. i was walking around looking around. i saw this older women in a workout outfit. i saw two super skinny lil punk rock girls.
it was thursday. eric stayed in and so did i.

green grass grows in the meadow all summer long songs play from the window all day light long and at night sometimes they play too but where were you blue baby blue
i don't care and i don't know why i would i feel great and i feel good there's a robot in my brain and he controls the sound and i make when i fall and eat the fucking ground.

but nothing means nothing
sleepy time lunch tray sleds
and hard hits 2 the head
a giggle and a trickle
down somebodies leg