i want to write good. i want to fight good. i want to fuck good. i want to rock good.
when im with people i want them to have a good time. when im with a girl i want her to think of noone else. when im skateboarding down sunset i want the budhists to say shit weve gone down the wrong path all along.
im not feeling well.
in my review i told them that i hadnt been sick all year. now im feeling a little dizzy. i think i had bad roast beef yesterday and i thought i was having a heart attack. then i ate all these tums. then my buddy came over and wanted to do a quick shot with me.
one shot leads to another.
then i tried to write what i have to write for the big time web site. wasnt able to. passed out on the couch. ashley called me and woke me up. went back to sleep. woke up. went back to sleep.
i just want to do good and be good and feel good and write good.
i want the pearly gates to open when i arrive and for them to say that motherfucker was good.
i want the dogs to bark and the fat ladies to sing.
i want i want i want. camus said that wanting is the root of all pain but you know what i say to camus.
i say fuck camus, thats right.
fuck you camus.
i want to make tshirts. i want to make hats. i want to make mousepads that people can give to their dads.
whats this boy?
its a fuck you camus mousepad, pops.
i want this hot girl to come over but im sick. im not sick. im pre-sick. my buddy gave me some echinacia, i ate clam chowder for lunch, now im gonna pound water.
every time my throat hurts i always think that its from my after-work pipe.
when i was a kid i always thought that when i was an adult i would love to have a pipe hanging around cuz they looked and smelled so damn good.
little did i know how easilly dreams can come true.
i want you.
im going to say it again until i instill it.
right now i could use a shot of rum. we chased this mother down thai town in the heat and i cant catch my breath.
some of the fellas shot at him but missed and i shot and hit him in the foot.
nice shot, footy, they say. they think its lame that i always hit people either in the eye or in the foot and i say what good is marksmanship if you dont apply it and they say thats bullshit that if you hit them in the foot they can still shoot back and i tell em let em shoot back its not like any things ever going to hit us. ever.
and they look at me like im crazy and i tell them nothings ever going to get us.
nothing.
nothing.
and you know what they say?
they say,
good.
stitched on it is telling people that there’s room to move back into the bus and she’s sitting in a seat and im thinking, ho, if you think there’s room back there then you go stand there.