chance

today i was pleasantly surprised to run into V on the train. the unexpectedness of it lent a bit of that insidious human wonderment to the moment, enough to make me think "what are the odds!" for just a second.

of course, the odds of me taking that train through her neighborhood everyday and NOT running into her are probably greater than those of running into her once in a while, so i shouldn't have been surprised at all.

but life is much richer with pleasant surprises than without, even if you have to forget about reality for a second to appreciate it. =P

police state america

I want to be free to live, able to have what I need to live
Bring the power back to the street, where the people live

deep throughts

i was once riding on the train and thought "why do that girl's breasts keep staring at me?"

sometimes when you see a vice you are tempted to put your head in it. but don't put your head in that vice, the main reason being someone might, try to stick something in your butt while you are incapacitated. that is, your head will be stuck in a vice, while something is stuck in your butt. that can be very confusing to the average person who is not accustomed to such things.

if i were a Transformer, it would suck if my object form was a solved rubik's cube. cuz every time we're trying to de-transform to hide from the humans i would take forever to solve myself and all the other Transformers would be like "dude, hurry the fuck up, you're taking for-ever." that can get really old when it's voiced in robot monotone.

marijuana plants must have the most inflated egos of all other plants. everyone is always complimenting them. for example: "this is some goooood shit, man." or "man, this was some gooood shit." but what they don't realize is that we're just using them to get with their hot friend cocaine. cocaine is a hell of a drug.

how many flights get delayed on the daily?

apparently many, many... and i mean many, many, many. regardless i'm back in the US again and i have no fucking clue what i'm doing here. i'm so out of it... that's probably because of the all nighter spent packing, or the last couple years of life spent wondering what the fuck man. it's strange moving back and forth between countries: no matter how tight old friendships may be, distance and time do take their tolls. and it's all still uncertain, just another gamble...

but, a toast, to some new shit, whatever may come.

punned it commentary, if you will

you know, well actually you don't know because i haven't told you yet, but you will soon. the real problem with the alleged clash of civilizations between the crackers in the western societies and the ragheads in the couple eastern theocracies is that the honkies, panicking because their empire is going bald, are pretending to want to spread their seeds of "democracy" in an attempt to show that they are still somewhat virile amongst all the emerging nations with raging libidos.

coincidentally they would need strategic access to and control over the middle east crude oil/energy corridor: that heaven sent special offer viagra/lube combo that will help to counteract the decline of once tumescent industrial nation hegemony.

what they are in denial about though is that the cosmetic-if-not-fatuous democracy they practice is actually just lipstick on an obese plutocratic pig... and DUH! sand niggaz don't eat pig! it's not halal you dumb-asses. how the war hawks could not have seen such a simple truth while fabricating laughable stories for invasion is beyond me, though at 5 ft 6.5 in, that's not too much of a stretch.

stream of consciousness: drug rush

i write with some old hands, the rhymes roam like nomads, wandering like lost tribes my minds wait for no man / i spit freeze like frost's bite, cold words for these forced ripe mc's who blow smoke and then choke like exhaust pipes / i'll toss mics like they be raw, salads on a frisbee, spinnin' broken records, break em ballads til they dizzy / busy with some 80 proof fizzy in my veins, call an izzy get the four-C score phillies lit the brain, / disappear in the purple haze pierce an eardrum with turns of phrase, pistol whip-em twists'll flip em off the vinyl til they dazed / still amazed at my brazenness, going crazed like some ancient shit, blood, sweat and swears, mix the colours, i'm paintin' wit /

deep throughts

it occurred to me today that nothing has really occurred to me in a while. the seeming paradox inherent in this occurrence led me to one conclusion: i have nothing to conclude. but the pleasant truth about life is that i can write about it and create an air of eccentricity around myself... an obscure intellectual allure, the sole purpose of which is to increase mating probabilities with confused readers.

if i ever do a ride-by shooting a la godfather three the victim's name better be "joey zaza" as well. else it just wouldn't look or sound as cool when you call out his name as you shoot him. imagine riding up on a horse to kill some regular guy and having to say, "hey, tom ford" or "hark, george crenshaw"... you'd have to follow that up with "i'm going to exact revenge on you with this pistol." so gay. saying "zaza!" emphatically resounds with the gunshots in a much less gay way.

i once heard of a bird who suffered from debilitating bouts of nausea. if you think deeply about this bird nausea, which you should because you never have before and you are now at a crossroad of intense philosophical cognition, you may come to an epiphany. the baby birds are probably really fat, and bird obesity could be huge a burden to the health care system of animals. there is room for more research in this area.

imagine if lots of people just mysteriously died at the hands of gunmen hanging from large kites. how thought provoking that would be.