Dried up human juice

All I want to hear was the roar of the train. I want to hear the metallic scream of the train, I want to sit down, next to a stinky bum or a hipster or next to no one at all, I want sit on the train and head toward 95th street, get off at Harrison walk the block and a half to my apartment, get on the elevator to the 21st floor, go to my room and lay down. I just want to go home, and lay the fuck down. It's 3 in the morning, or maybe earlier, I don’t know. I'm not going to bother to check my phone for the time, I'm about 40 feet under ground, and virgin mobile's signal couldn’t find me with Sherlock Holmes on the case. My face hurts real bad and the bridge of my nose is gashed and leaking, my inner lip is too. My knuckles are numb from the cold and the wild swinging. I got into a fight a few hours ago. It was at a party at one of my good friends homes in Wicker Park. I was about 14 beers into a nice drunk, a happy drunk, I was dancing, but not really dancing, just kind of moving, but fuck it I was feeling nice. The skanks were in rare form tonight, smiling and laughing and looking great. Girls sat on my lap and tried to get me to dance with them, but I had to decline, I cant dance even if dancing nowadays has been reduced to rubbing my penis on your thighs and back. Some people think of dancing like a test, a test to see how much chemistry two people have. It can even be an examination of someone’s sexual prowess, but I can fuck, what I cant do the jerk or the nerd or the whatever the shit. So I don't dance with anyone. Anyway, I spotted a girl in the crowd and took her upstairs to get her drunk and talk about her insecurities and her hometown and her favorite movie and maybe get a little make out action. We hold hands and I lead her up the stairs, she's grinning when I turn around to look at her and grin makes me grin and then we are just two grinning fools. There is a dude following her, a gay dude and he's grinning to. Two guys and one girl is a gangbang, two girls one guy is a threesome, but what’s one straight dude, one gay dude and a girl, besides something I'm not interested in? This worries me a bit because gay guys are notorious cock blocks. The list goes, in order of cocks blocked throughout history, Ugly Friend, Gay Friend, Ex-boyfriend. But it doesn’t matter because he's skipping up the stairs right behind us so I'll just have to make the best of it. We end up sitting down on the bed in the guest room, the dude knows better so he takes a seat in the chair in corner and pretends to text. We talked about some shit, it was kind of cool. She goes to the Art Institute and she's in the Asian Student organization, it's funny because she isn’t Asian at all. After a while one of my friends barges in the room all wide eyed. His pupils are bouncing around like ping pong balls and he cant seem to stop licking his the corner of his mouth. He's on cocaine, no doubt about it. It ain’t long before he's talking about licking things, inappropriate things civilized people consider sacred . Now I know the dumb ass so I'm just laughing, but they don't think this raving fiend is too funny, the girl gives me a kiss on the cheek and they fly out of that room like freed slaves. Now its just me and this drug abuser, he says he'll sell me a line for five dollars, I don't pay for cocaine thou, never have, never will, unless I win the lotto. After awhile his sporadic conversation topics and semi-demonic eye contact gets the best of me and I bail too. Walking back down the stairs I notice, the dancing stopped and the crowd pushed all on one side. It's easy to tell a crowd that’s looking at a fight, they don't blink, and all the girls look like they smell something bad. There's camera phones out, yeah someone’s getting beat up. I look at the pit and another friend of mine as well as the home owner are fighting four dudes who I've never seen before, the dude who owns the house is big, and worse than that he's strong and worse that its his property and he's been drinking rum. He is wrecking two of the strangers, you can almost her the dull smacking sounds of the punches over the music. My other friend is an old high school wrestler and he is slamming and rolling around with his opponent. That looks fun, I thought, well the beer in my gut thought and before I knew it I was pushing through the crowd trying to lead a hand to a few friends in need. Now, before you go off thinking I'm some bad ass cowboy, I'm defiantly not. I haven’t been in too many fights and I haven’t won a single one. I used to wrestle in high school, and I would of made it to state but this ginger kid beat me in the preliminaries. But these dudes weren’t ginger, and they didn’t look too tough. Usually in this situation I'd grab a weapon, a bottle or pan or some kids crutches I just wanted to go home, and lay the fuck down. But something in my belly was tensing me up into a testorone fueled frenzy. I felt muscles I didn’t know I had, and all the rage for every little insignificant annoyance got channeled in my fists, every dropped call, every lost bus pass, every elevator I didn’t make, every time I lost at Street Fighter, 20 years worth of inconvenience got sent to this one punch that soared like a firework and exploded into the back of the tallest dudes head. Now, the skull is infinitely stronger than the knuckles, so I don’t recommend throwing punches at the back of heads. He took two steps forward and grabbed the back of his head with both hands. Oh, fuck, what have I done, this guys had at least a foot and a half on me and he was bulky, lean, wouldn’t surprise me if he played basketball or some shit. I panicked, then I looked toward the massive crowd and there unblinking eyes, they were surprised this little shit had the nerve to standup to a giant like this dude, David vs. Goliath I thought, then I thought about how if David didn’t have the slingshot, Goliath would of ate David's bony ass up. Before long I found myself jumping up and wrapping my arms around the big faggots neck. My feet hit the ground again and my face turned from enraged to deeply panicked. From “Fuck this dude.” to “Oh shit, I fucking dead.” I get vicious and give him some knees to the spine, he's confused and I know how to capitalize on confusion. My forearms tense and constrict his neck, he's getting scared. I think about everyone watching, including the girl and the gay dude, I can't lose in front or her. I imagine the dude telling her; “She, he got a coke head friend, he can't fight And he got a little bitty dick. He's probably gay too.” Fuck that, I think, as I starting sticking the dude in the face with my right hand while my left arm keeps the death grip. My punches light up the side of his face and ear, I know how it feels to be hit in the ears and that ring that comes after it and I almost feel sorry....

To be continued

The inbetween thoughts

Somewhere, there is an open road. With gold rolling plains that spread for miles on both sides. It’s smells sweet there. It smells like home or it smells like a lover on your pillow or it smells like gyros and fries. This road is smooth, the asphalt is bouncy and there no pot holes. The wind blows and it crawls up your body, through your hair (weave haha) and it makes you smile, not because it tickles but because
it makes sense to smile. You are alone but you know there is a furious love on all sides. In this field no need for a god or punishment. There is only your existence. The way this wind hits the tall grass of the field, it makes it sound like applause. You are the core, the heart of this world. And everything you say causes the wind to blow, and the grain to applaud you. You words are dancing and golden. Then a man with a green flannel shirt emerges from the stalks of corn, or wheat or whatever the fuck is growing in this field
He is wielding an axe, and he is jerking off.
"Who the fuck....calm down homie. What….” you panic and suddenly your dancing golden words fall out of your mouth and turn to marbles The ran begins to run after you, beating his dick without remorse, swinging that axe around.
You take off like…like…idk a monkey escape that crazy lady who lived with those apes in Nigeria. You considering heading into the fields, but then decide against it, there may be more maniacs, dicks in hand.
So you run, your feet hurt and you wheeze and sweat and think about everything

You think about that one time your dad made you pick that dead squirrel up with a shovel when you were eight. you think about that squirrel and its bulging eye and the blood droplets that dried and clumped to its matted fur.
you think about the saddest and happiest moments of your life.
you think about the one person who could of changed your life.
The poorly dressed sex fiend gaining on you, this looks like it
Suddenly, a gnome on a motorcycle hops out of the sweet smelling fields.


He urges you to get on, he isn’t beating off, so you do.
The two of you drive off into the sunset, you can see where the field ends, after the field there are mountains, than an ocean than a tower
The gnome glances back at you
and says;



"Don't be scared. This will only get worse before it gets better."


and then you know your adventure has started, and a marvelous adventure it will be

Hey Doood

Do you remember, a time when the Prinny Squad was all you needed?

Fangs

I woke up one Sunday morning to find my good friend Casey had left 26 beers in my refrigerator, apparently he split in the middle of the night because his girlfriend fell down some stairs, or something...So he couldn't drink the remainder of the pack. Like a good, empathic friend, I start drinking the beers. And the rest is history......

LadyBoy 2 on the way, this time there will be a script and won't be so janky.

LADYBOY from FLY KITE on Vimeo.

And as if you didn't know already

Shout out to Clark over at Fly Kite

http://flyingmykite.com/

Part Bear, Part Boy. All Beast..

The red cup I hold vibrates against the brown of my skin and the yellow of my belly. I look down to my poking, bulbous stomach, I am getting fat. Skinny arms, poofy hair, legs, chest, eyes, lips, knees, I am the boy Frankenstein. All of my parts seem like there were stolen from the corpses of several different men, maybe even a woman or two. There is a girl with sandy brown hair dancing with her friends, she thinks I’m cute. There is another girl with some tall hipster following her around, she is beautiful and she shoots me an inviting smile, but tonight will not be our night. I haven’t the words tonight, I seldom do, but tonight I am dried out. A kid I know pats me on the back and shakes me, “Adam you look fucked up.” He is grinning waiting for me to say something funny.
“Sure am.” I tell him this, and he can smell the lie on me. His grin withdraws and so does he, into the jumping, neon crowd. I just want to sit down, sit with my drink, maybe pull someone into a conversation about bats or movies or hot girls. I wander to the bath room, there is a long line. Girls enter the bathroom in groups of 3, two dudes go in side together and everyone in line points and snickers. They didn’t look gay, and that’s what made it funny. A drunk girl strikes up conversation with me, we talk about how much fun the party is. She is cute and would probably give me her number, but I just want to sit down. The two non-homosexual fags exit the bathroom and I cut 5 people. Before I close the door I look back and them and give an empathetic shrug, I feel like a jerk, kinda. The wooden door of he shitter muffles the music, thank God. I look at myself in the mirror, I look as janky as ever. Bags round my eyes, the hovering light shows me my acne. I’m making a face that implies I’m bored or mad or unapproachable. Sometimes I hate my face, but then again sometimes I hate everything. I sit on the toilet and think about the vodka and red bull in the Solo cup, I drink the rest and throw the cup in the sir, it lands in the bath tub.
“Do I have to pee?” I speak to the shower curtain and ceiling fan and tooth paste. I take my wee-wee out and shake it like I’m trying to get money out of it. No pee pee. I spit in the toilet and watch my saliva circle the bowl like a shark. I wish I could transform into a shark, or anything. I think about how gnarly it would be to go in the bathroom and janky brown boy and emerge form the water closet a gigantic brown bear. I thought about how cool it would be if no one noticed, and I kept dancing and swaying and smiling at pretty girls. Party bear. Party animal. The door is being knocked on a dude tells me to hurry up and calls me a jackass. Party bear will not tolerate this. I flush the toilet and give myself one last glance in the mirror, vanity doesn’t suit someone as weird as me so I smile and rush out stepping on the guys foot purposely. I’m smiling on the dance floor. I’m smiling because the world, my slice of the world at least, isn’t terrible. I smile because they are contagious, I smile because I hope that my smile spreads like a forest fire. Forest fires affect bears, but not party bear. This place, this house is alive with something I don’t want to kill myself trying to explain. I’ve spent many nights jumping up and down to songs I don’t know and many morning hunched over toilets regretting each and every sin. Fuck, youth is weird. Sometimes, I’m ok, Sometime I aint. But tonight vibrates against my skin and inside my chest and around my hat. The girl I came here with smiles and winks at me, but I don’t care. Girls come and go and get lost in the stars. Fuck them, tonight will be about chasing this vibration. Not pussy, not even love.

What will you leave this town with?

My Brother is going to have a kid. By “brother” I mean my oldest friend and closet thing I have to a sibling. And by “going to have a kid” I mean of course he got a lady pregnant who is bearing the child, Brother himself is not having the baby. (If a man got pregnant there would only be three possible exits for the child to escape the man-womb, Orally, bursting out of the stomach like in the movie “Aliens” or through the pee hole. Fuck the whole lot of that right?) I have limited experience with babies but I know that taking care of a baby is like taking care of a friend who is way too wasted. Babies scream nonsense at the top of their lungs and get aggravated when you cant understand the “Agrhhhhrhhrtop.” means “Hey, can you give me some socks, my feet are pretty cold.” Babies can choke on their own vomit, thats how Jimmy Hendrix died. Babies and drunk people seem to share this weird death wish, babies are always putting their fingers in sockets and drunks are always picking fights with bouncers at strip clubs. Both drunks and babies make unreasonable demands, Babies want milk at 4 a.m and drunks want to go fishing at 3 a.m. Both have an obsession with breasts and Mexican food. Babies are a buzz-kill. On top of ozzing shit and snot every three minutes, the responsibility that bringing a new life form into the world is terrifying.
There are viruses and rapists and mountain lions, and all types of treacherous women. When you have a kid you introduce the little, defenseless, useless shit machine to all the dangers of the world we barely understand. (I shouldn't say useless, babies make great paper weights and door stops, hey I got a joke; "How many babies does it take to paint a wall? Depends on how hard you throw them.") And that new life, that pure child devoid of all sin, has to learn of lies, and heart break and cold lonely nights.
Me and Brother talked about this for awhile, and like it has always been, I'm way more worried than he is. Brother didn't grow up with his dad and the only thing i've seen of their father-to-son love is free hair cuts and the occasional 20 dollars that brother would spend on pot and food. Brother told me that he is willing to give his son everything and I absolutely believe that. ITs just hard to see my best friend the same retard I used to watch jump houses (We had a game that supposedly trained our reflexes where we would take turns throwing forks at one another and try to dodge them, although whenever it got to my turn to do the dodging I quit.) He is also getting married and while I usually dont condone marriage in the early 20s marrying the women whom is to have your child is only the right thing to do. (When a girl has a baby she gets bigger boobs but a looser vag, In my eyes, not an even trade. You can have triple Ds, if your pussy is like the bat cave I aint fucking with you.) Brother is unafraid and maybe even excited about the possibility of having a son. There will be love for the child, of this I am sure.
Fuck, lets wrap this up, I'm getting teary eyed.

Dear nephew to be;
My name is Adam and I'm going to be your favorite uncle.
Your dad and I were raised in Chicago but its best you grow up under that southern sun of Atlanta. The sun there is so close to the earth you have no choice but respect that there are larger things. It will humble you. The red dirt of the southern will teach you many things the dirty snow of the mid west won't. Do me a favor and be hard on your dad, in his dealing with you he will mature. Cut him no slack. Eat junk food, learn the joys of grease because fat kids are cute, fat adults have health issues and breath too loud. Like the prettiest girl in class, but play it cool, your father never had half the girl problems I did but we all can't be as lucky (or tall) as he is. Be kind, don't be a jerk. The world is full of assholes (i.e your dad and I) but what we really need are more gentle hands. When you get older (like 12) I'll drink whiskey with you and we can talk about girls and video games and adventures. Your father will do a great job raising you, but I'll teach you what to do when the weight of your thoughts and chest get to heavy. I''ll teach you how to bounce down the stairs and roll to your feet.

Inactivity (inactivity)

I wish there was a product that worked like Viagra,but for the soul. I need to get motivated, but the echoing question remains how?
(I talk about echos a lot in my writing.)
I'm at the library and I'm surrounding by people who are half working, there is a girl with a fish tattoo I really want to fuck, but she is Indian, or maybe Mexican (I sound racist) and those are statistically the hardest race for yellow boys to have vagina relationships with.
When I was in middle school I used to get teased for (everything) wearing glasses, now its trendy, people even buy fake ones (I hope your eyes melt you faggots, jk.)
Thats bullshit.
Have you ever seen a bull shit?
Flamingos poop skittles.
Midgets cry skittles. I wonder at midget funerals are there a lot of midgets? Is the casket little?
If a regular elevator can fit 8 normal people, can it then hold 33 midgets.
This is a joke, a joke I ain't gonna finish.

Oh, Oh I know.
Outside the dump I live in, there are spider webs. I'm on the 21 floor and up until now I never thought insects (arachnids) climbed this high. Today I saw on of the spiders outside my window he was in the middle of his web. The web was shaking the shit out of his web but there he was with this bravery that is unattainable to humans. He was right in the middle, unafraid. The only thing between him and a grisly spider death was the web he spun, thin almost translucent threads that he placed faith in. Faith to catch food, and faith to hold steady against the winds of a town that chew through brick and bone.
Although humans are the smartest, we are the pussies of the animal kingdom. We have to have faith in who we are and what we create. We have to face the winds.

ehhhh, that wasnt bad.