JARED'S QUOTES + STORIES:
Job Daily was an dishonest man. Cheated on his wife many a time before whilst leaving child (3) at home wishing he was there. Thinking of the terriblosity of his actions was an impulse unfamiliar to his stem. He worked under many a men reviewing books for mature content to be rated according to his revisions and reviews. He liked a dirty novel every now and then.
This fucking shirt, these fucking shorts, & this fucking stench have been stuck with me too long. <------needing motivation. Needing friends. Needing more of shit that I already have, but still seem to want more of because I'm a fucking low life motherfucker that cant get no pleasure out of anything. Double negatives = sorry sod. Sorry sod = Jared. Jared = lowlife motherfucker whom uses double negatives to help compensate for the extreme idiocy posed 5 minutes ago. Shit.
I feel you Kurt, mine not being drug induced & mine not being that of illness. But indeed I feel you. Worse being that I dont need severe illness or drug addiction to hate myself enough to want to die. You could have saved yourself my lad, I cant. Take care, and try and wear that cool hat that you wore before you ended when we meet.....k?
Taking this would mean for me to accept my failures and horribility which is complete bullshit. I cant take this, thats my problem.
What if you, my friend, were never thought of to be on this earth? Would this make it so much easier for me to pass for that split second when it is of the utmost importance? Yes. By all means. Your smirking, filthy fucking face has no idea of my intention, but you will know one day for I make it life to dwell upon hatred for such as you. When it comes down to it, your existance hinders my own. And that will not be.
"Look Sheeluh! It's Bobby Down!!" expressed little Therespa in such a way that woos those below an educational goal beyond the level 3rd. "Oh, so you are right again," said Sheeluh with almost no impediments audible. "Boy it'd be great to get him into bed," retorts Therespa. "Almost scary isn't it? I just can't help but feel like--" just as the words finished vibrating throughout her body, Sheeluh witnessed the unthinkable. Bobby had slipped on a torn page from last months issue of Penthouse magazine with the sex comics section displayed upwards. Falling forward, Bobby knew not that he would die only 32 minutes and 29 seconds after smashing his perfectly defined nose into his skull. "Oh my God! I can't--" and if one interruption wasn't enough, Nitram Nathan witnessed the incident and approached the girls saying "Holy shit it's funny when popular people fall!! He's lucky the comics side was up or else he'd have ruined a good pair of tits." And both girls looked at each other and nodded for they knew Nitram was ever wise.
Organized life sucks ass
If people of other races hate segregation, why do they constantly single themselves out? i.e. Blacks with the Black Entertainment Channel.....grow up assfros.
Inactivity grows productivity in cases well known to me. If I had not seen what I saw, would I still feel so obsequious to those whom provide shade for a bust so helpless as mine? Since friends passed, others came. Life's objective = die. Pointless Progression molds community, state, country, and now earth. If no one listens, why bother with endless filibustration? Ask me please. But the same chemicals found in the inner ear that may once in a good year cause uneasiness & faulty balance guard that which might help one in understanding how this shit feels. To those who know, explain my direction + intentions when latter years past. This is all I ask. Those who have it fuck it up, those who want it fuck for it, but those who need it will see that maybe, for once, I was right. What is IT? Wish I knew that by me posing such a question would process understanding, or for the most part, interest inside the skull of one that knows not why staying here has meaning. We are all going to fucking die, and yet we still don't mind working for others, but not self. Incomprehensible. Organization of pointless plenty is modow # 2 in the U.S. & us. Putting others in front of self = stupidity.
In a flash.....it's gone.........but without much of my life lost, back I am again. The time spent within the apparent blink of an eye may seem instantaneous, notice the usage of the word 'may.' Learning to harbor this ability to expand my world by defying time and explore when others are still at bay unknowing that I am about wandering and weaving through thoughtless stares is an attribute I shall never take heed to use properly. Subconsciousness may never be consciously experienced by another......lucky me.
I am not hearing, seeing or wearing.....on yourself a Jared coat might look nice if applied correctly. But no guarantees at all, so fuck off.
Holy.......my bust..........sad + deprived.....not good signs of...........of ..........of.....me. When my grey matter is shown to be releasing itself in brutal upheavals, please remind me of this one moment when the bust I once knew as my own..........sad + deprived........was, in fact.........me.
I have fallen and broken has come over my leg, must go....paramedics' lives lead up to this moment, adrenaline rushing as a well endowed fly to lard. "Not too much," one says. "But if we don't give him enough, my kit will cause mass secretions of lactic acid proving unuseful in my profession of choice," snapped the other......."Good point." and the horizon swallowed their gentle shadows.
RYAN'S QUOTES + STORIES:
When I was walking in the street, a guy came up and told me that getting killed with a spoon was a shitty way to die. I told him that eating shit was a much shittier way to die....he left after that. -Ryan
Someday, when my kids have seen me kill enough people, they'll look back and say, 'My dad was bad ass.' -Ryan
When life gives you a lemon, throw the fookin' thing at the neighborhood kids that always stare at you while you eat!! -Ryan
On discovering that I was, in fact a being of solid mass, I soon found the source of my discomfort in trying fit in my water glass. It bit me. -Ryan
It was quite round that day, so I thought flat to be a social blunder. I watched Mr Oval in the crisp morning air, beating Mr Rectangle into a blooddied pile of rubbish until my optic orbs were then drawn full circle by a lovely gal of generous curves. -Ryan
A night unlike not many ever seen except between the first of January to the end of December he decided to buck up and go to his disorderly householdery earlier than usual. The highway gave Job the perfect view of his hometown from afar, the blanket of street lights atop the pitch black of moon deprived earth proved an easing sight. Listening to Tesh, John eased his daily sorrows and made him forget his underneathings he felt at work. "WHATS THIS!" he exclaimed as if he were writing a book by Charles Dickens. His blood only being able to circulate once throughout his body in the time it took him to grasp the reality showed how terrible his reflexes were. A plane! A plane! It was this man made terror drifting slowly towards his hometown at a height undesired by most pasengers. His blood gave another circulation in the time it took for the plane to burrow its way into his lovely Doucheville. *gasp*
His immediate reaction: Call home! Make sure it didnt hit my house!
Utilizing his cel phone in which he wished he could find a good Rachmaninov piece as the stupid ring jingle, but settled for for Beethoven's third, he called home........hoping...........praying (once). "Whats this!?" (Charles Dickens) an answering machine!?!? *JOY* This meant his wife, Chuka, and his child (3) Beef, Leaf, and Queaf must be surveying the damage posed by the monster. Relief broke out and sweat dried, making him cold. Immediately he reminisced, thinking of his lovely wife, how much she's done for him.....how cheating was so terrible and wanting to turn over a new leaf seemed a plan irresistable. Tragedy always brings out the best in humans.
Rushing home with unmatchable joy he was. Finally reaching his destination, his home, which had been completely demolished except for one piece of kitchen, a piece of kitchen that held in its grasp an answering machine with one blinking light to symbolize that they had one message.
-Jared
