the champagne of rap

Waking up in the morning and feeling a cold breeze in your face. Sounds like the slogan for a great campground somewhere in the middle of a sweltering heat wave, doesn’t it? Well, right now, that’s my life.

This house is strange. It has a ventilation system that allows the ocean breezes to flow into it. So, in the summer it pumps in hot, humid air. Now, as the 29 degree nights hit, it pumps cold air in.

As a paycheck to paycheck bum, this means lots of hot sweaty nights in the summer, and balled up under four blanket nights in the winter.

Taking a shower is painful. As is swallowing, since my throat is constantly sore.

Beats sleeping in the street however. So, I plod on without too many complaints. It is funny when I visit friends. They have their heat on constantly. I never can sleep. I just sweat. And my eyes, they burn from being so dried up. That’s why my year plus in a house in Arizona without air conditioning was so awesome.

It was hot as hell in summertime, especially that summer when it was over 120 for few days. But the winters, man, when it got cool, were just perfect.

Maybe I should go back to the desert? Don’t know what I’d do there. But hell, if the collapse comes harder, at least living in the streets wouldn’t be so bad. Of course, the collapse comes, you should be near family and friends. The kinds that let you sleep on their couches for six months.

***

Hodgepodge.

Woke up today wondering if my brain would work. It did. I didn’t.
Fly to the angels, the awful voice once sang to me, and you. If I heard it now, I’d claw my eyes out.
The lights flicker, even in the daylight. Seems to be an awful waste. Until you need to see it. And it’s there.
My dad admitted he suffered from depression the last time I saw him, drunk and despondent. He understands how I feel, he said.
Gargantuan gargoyles guard grimy gourds.
Free Fanta for foxes.
My monkey makes much more money.
Thunderous thanks take time.
Remote rabid rookies rank rifles’ ranges.
Trees take time. Love lingers longer, like Lassie licks.
Fucked, faked, flossed.

***

I’m a bear!

I scribbled that on a picnic table last week. It had a meaning when I did it. Now, I don’t remember.

Wish I did.

***

Forced to feed, the mother will hate the child.

Forced to eat, the child will hate the mother.

***

I walked into a bar last night in my dreams. Charles Bukowski was sitting with Joe Strummer at the bar. In a booth, Jim Varney and Stiv Bators were doing Jager Bombs. At the jukebox, Mickey Mantle was plopping in endless rolls of quarters to play “Centerfield.”

***

My possessions need to go.

I’m tired of all the crap.

It weighs me down.

“But it all is worth so much money.”

I keep telling myself.

Fucking excuses.

There are more of them on that bookshelf than books.

***

I met my hero once. He was drunk. So was I. Now I’m scared to talk to him.

***

Pascual Perez scared me as a kid. He was tall. He had a jheri curl. His eyes were sunk way too deep into his skull. And he was wearing only thermal underwear when he came out of the locker room.

I was 10.

This may have scarred me.

***

Why hasn’t man figured out a way to stop finger nails from growing so fast?

A pill will give you a hard on, but nothing can stop the growing of finger nails. Or ear hair. How about mapping those genes and applying them to the top of the head?

I need sleep.

***

Is overtime worth my time? It pays so little. But, I’ve got a shot at a full extra 10 hours the next two weeks. Gotta take it.

***

My mind is a mess. My face is old. My exes aren’t in Texas.

***

Procrastination. My kind of place.

***

Cum-soaked sheets.
Smell of crotch.

***

A girl walks by my window. I watch her slowly step away. Where is she going? Who is she? Why won’t you talk? You don’t love me. Good bye.

***

Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde’s “The Champagne of Rap” is either the best or worst rap album of all time.

Listen for yourselves and decide.

***

I’ve run out of meaningless drivel to type. Luckily for me, at this moment … I’ve typed 765 words so I can stop.

Some days, it doesn’t pay to get out of bed. Or the boat. Never get off the boat. “You’re God damned right, never get off the boat.”