Hey wow. Nobody talks to me. Earth is in outer space. So I guess I am too. Floating along, with a whole lot of nothing happening. Except when stuff happens. The stuff that happens is usually pretty crappy. Wow!

Nauscopy was a something or other. Started 1991, called it "Burping Turds" to make fun of deathcore lyrics of "puking shit". Deathcore is retarded. It's annoying. You know what else is annoying? People who get annoyed at stuff. Dear god, can't we do something about these poople? They complain and complain and they're dying and I don't give a fuck! Because I'm so fuckin' cool and mature like that. And stop being so fucking serious! What's that? You're going to be goofy now? You damned nihilist. Nihilists really ARE stupid, but I'll call you one to benefit myself here, because that's what counts. Or something. Walnut gravy.

Anyway, I'm 40 and I've wasted my life. Wahoo! I spend a lot of time waiting for people to talk to me. It never works. I've forgotten how to speak. It's a good thing I can still type! Yep, your life has been saved by my fingers. Barf. I'm really disgusting to look at, with wonderful diseases. Awesome!

The biggest waste of my time must have been this recording project I sometimes referred to as Edith Bunker's Demonized Vomit Insurance. I started it sometime in the middle of the 1720's. I can't even imagine how awesome it was because it sucked that hard. I was fired from it. Nobody ever gave a fuck. Nobody could cope with how shitty it all was. Not even me!

I don't have a personality that I can detect. I see no point in writing this, or doing anything else really. It's - my cat is a retarded frickin' mammal. I give everyone a whole shitload of reasons to hate me, but it's a different shitload for each person. This builds up loneliness somethin' good. As a bonus, I get surrounded by experts on me and what I'm doing wrong. Fantastic!

Stop analyzing shit and concluding this and that. See there you go again! Knock it off!

I've been depressed for a couple days or so now, so keep that in mind as I write this. I have tons of amazing, wonderful things to share with the right persons, but these things shrink in number all the time, because I'll expose this or that to some shithead who has to wipe his or her dick all over it, and then it's profaned with the dirt of a peon fuckhole. So I'm wary of sharing the shit I really treasure with ANYONE. Well, almost anyone. Truth be told, I spill way too many of the beans. Stupid? You fucking bet.


2/3/99, 1:15 a.m.