Friday, June 29, 2012


My favorite sentence(s) I read today was: "NOTHING takes the place of my kid. Not my work, not any passive aggressive bullshit, not any hobby, and no, definitely NOT my wife or her dirty vagina."

Seems like someone writing that "seriously," like not for LOLs, is like, the most insane thing that's ever happened.

Shit I Typed On 40 Sleeping Pills

What does fame actually mean? I started thinking about it, and felt unsure about whether or not it actually existed. Does it mean I know who that person is even though I've never met them "IRL"

Because in that case, everyone on the internet truly is famous.

Or does it mean something like, the majority of people in the world know who that person is even though they've never met them "IRL."


How much of your life is "How to capitalize on _________________"

How to capitalize on this relationship

How to capitalize on your 15 minutes etc

Would you rather be rich or relevant?

Which one seems worse to want? Is it wrong to want those things?

Do you think you've ever met a sociopath?

What the fuck does this sentence mean: "the systematic invalidation of the hierarchies of representational functions and techniques?"

Reminds me of the part in Lunar Park where Bret Easton Ellis is trying to think of a quote for someone's book and writes, "I haven't come across a work so 'resolutely about itself' in years"


I often google ______________sucks, or I hate _______________

I never thought about a person reading that in analytics and feeling sad. That's the thing, like, I don't necessarily feel like that thing sucks. I simply want to read a person talking about why another thing sucks. As a matter of fact, it seems like I would be more likely to google that if I really liked something. I feel interested in why people like or dislike things, or like--especially in a passionate way, why people hate certain things. It feels fascinating.

I really like abstractions actually. It seems like that's the only thing that is interesting. Outside of concrete facts, like, abstractions are the only thing that really separates people.

Like some person feels really disgusted by fat people, and another person is only turned on by really fat people.

That's a reason why you really can't count on your opinion. Like, "if you want to decrease suffering in the world, this is what you should do." There is no universal way to decrease suffering. Seriously. You would have to say like, If you want to decrease suffering FOR MOST PEOPLE, or a majority of people, in the context of my worldview about how to decrease suffering, this is what you should do.

Someone taught me something about writing once, that I seem to have forgotten. It's unecessary to say, "I think_________________because anything you say is clearly what you think. It's self evident.

What decreases suffering for most people will increase suffering for some people.

I think I've said things before like, "I want to know everything." I truly want to know everything. I want to know things inside and out. I become obsessed with things for very brief periods.

Sometimes I am like why am I reading this? Why is this person talking, and why do they think it's important to say these things? Sometimes everything feels so meaningless to me that it hurts. And I really can't get into that shit.

I kind of feel like people comparing other people to Jesus is like---unconscionable or something. I mean, the jesus of something. It seems stupid that anyone would look at another person that way. The next book I write will deal with this issue, I think. Like the absurdity of worshiping another thing.

It's hard for me to feel really enamored with things. I want to understand things.

You really can't understand something without acknowledging the reality of that thing. Like I need to know why people like it and why people hate it to understand it fully, I think.

I'm fascinated by self absorption.

Seems LITERALLY unbelievable that racism/homophobia/sexism exist. The idea that certain colors, though, in particular, are inferior in some way really seems INSANE to me. Racism really is a kind of mental illness I think. I understand sexism definitely.

Also feel like I REALLY don't 'get' homophobia. I get sexism, kind of. I mean, not that I think it's like..."right," but it seems to make the most sense. Homophobia makes no sense. Like, I don't understand how a gay person would be threatening in any way. It also really does seem to me that the most homophobic people are the ones who are like, "I mean I hooked up with a guy once or whatever."

Why do people, (including at times) myself think that animal behavior somehow explains human behavior?

Asked directly by Mojo magazine whether the famously romance-shy icon has discovered love, he replied: "Yes I have, yes I have. I mean it's completely false, of course."

When I look at a beautiful thing or person, it does make me feel "happy," but I never think, "I really want to fuck that thing."


Thursday, June 28, 2012

Used The Wrong "Their"

In a previous post. Meant to write "They're." Not too concerned. You got the idea.

This is hard to explain. Sometimes I have dreams and like, the "message" of the dream is self evident. Like, the message is stated within the dream.

Had a dream that for the rest of my life, someone was going to be aiming a rifle with a scope at me. Right at my forehead. The red dot, would be there.

The message was, "Try Harder." Something like, "You're dying, everyone is dying. Try harder."

At least it wasn't a teeth dream.



Wednesday, June 27, 2012


Spent like ten minutes making someone a snack they like, brought it to them as a surprise.

They made a piteous face and said, "Aww, that's so nice of you, but I don't want it."

Felt genuinely devastating.

Monday, June 25, 2012

That Didn't Go Too Well...

To be honest. Wanted to spend four to five hours, wound up spending two. Wrote like ten unusable sentences such as:


 Things that happen on the internet are, in fact, "IRL." That picture you put up of eels climbing out of your asshole, "totes" "IRL." 

"The day I deleted my Facebook forever ever was the day someone checked themselves and their vagina in at the OBGYN"

"This person has four digit friends. That shithead is always smiling. That person is an effing rockstar stacked up next to those amps, because on Facebook, it's still possible to be the thing you always wanted when you were twelve. Even if you cry yourself to sleep at night in a rat infested apartment, on a cum and bloodstained futon mattress you purchased on craigslist. Good job." 

Think I need to "tone it down."

Told Myself Campily As I Left The House...

"I am a 'writer,' not some fucking collector of Facebook friends." I put on floral print oxfords and I'm wearing my glasses, so you know I'm taking this shit seriously.


I'm going to write a god damn masterpiece.

I Hate This Song



Friday, June 22, 2012

Random Ass Shit

  • Everything I write involves puking or cum. I feel that everything ultimately relates to throwing up or fucking or something on the peripheral of actual fucking in some way.

  • It seems subconscious.

  • When I make "jokes" about being severely depressed, taking oxycontin as though it is an over the counter sleep aid, or killing myself, can you please just laugh? Laugh in a markedly uncomfortable manner if you want, just don't say something like, "I worry about you sometimes," because the sad and true fact is, you don't. You worry about how boring your girlfriend's vagina is starting to feel and what's being pushed through "the feed." Just laugh. Seriously. Because if you lie to me and say you are worried, I will buy a gun right now and shoot a bullet into my head, and it will be all your fault and you will have to live with that on your conscience for the rest of your life. Just kidding, you will push something through "the feed" to "RIP" me, as a cheap ploy for "likes" and then forget about it in three days when someone else gets their face eaten off. Whatever. I don't care. Do whatever you want.

  • "Post ironic sincerity."

  • "Why is John Irving a busted up tattooed motherfucker?" I thought.

  • I feel like perpetrating monster hoaxes is the only positive way to use the internet, and probably the only way to contribute to society in general. I once spoke to someone I hate about my passionate feelings on monsters, and then they made a monster "zine." And then I thought, you know, that person really fucks everything up for everyone. I hope a homeless person on bathsalts fucks that person and shits in their mouth. The only monster that person will ever know is their own sad, emaciated, fanny pack wearing carcass marching one step closer to death.

  • Someone told me the other day, "You think about a lot of really intense shit."

  • Someone told me the other day, "You really are an optimistic pessimist."

When I Die Six Months To A Year From Now...

Someone please write my biography, and please call it "This Hipster Pill Lyfe."

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Seriously Folks

Some dude, in my high school yearbook, wrote, "Dear Raye, keep on lovin' Joy Division."


Just had my mind blown hard watching John Irving on Craig Ferguson.

I'm kind of considering treating my blog as though it is a Twitter.

Text I Just Got From My Best Friend In High School

"U need to get urself together. Ur too smart n beautiful for that hipster pill lyfe"

Second Text

"No, for real, Ur like one of the smartest brilliant people I know n like u know pugs not drugs like snap out of it and just be brilliant"


"Cool, thank you. I will buy a pug or something."

Just As I Drifted Off...

I imagined telling someone, unironically, "Your writing reminds me of E.L. James."

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Random Ass Shit

  • Recently, when someone invited me to hang out, I organically thought, "I guess I will do that because I feel like talking about myself, and I'm bored of being alone." It was the first time I had looked at social interaction in that way and I felt appalled and also comforted in some way. Like, I felt like I understood humanity more.

  • When I was in Taos I kept thinking, why is everyone wearing Southwestern print clothes, and why does everyone have a weird ass haircut? I realized, then, that I was wearing Southwestern print clothes and had a weird ass haircut.

  • I try to search for things on google that will be exciting/funny for the person to see on their analytics "keywords" page.

  •  I get so wound up with anxiety by the end of the day that I feel like I'm going to die. I spoke about my sleeping pill consumption which is "alarming" by any standard, but anyway, I used to watch The Cosmos every night. Just over and over and over, then somehow I started looking at Tumblr porn gifs. Now, I fall asleep looking at Tumblr porn gifs. It's just really soothing. I feel like the fact that I find Tumblr porn gifs and Mel Gibson screaming about cunts/panting incredibly soothing, enough so that it's the only way I can fall asleep/calm myself down, might mean something is SERIOUSLY wrong with me. Like I am suffering from some kind of mental illness for sure. As if that weren't already apparently obvious.

  • I think if there was some type of philosophical zombie or machine that looked and felt like a real human and could fuck you like a human, I would probably prefer that to a "real" human. Because it would never say things like, "You're being 'crazy,'" or, "Your drinking is really becoming a 'problem,'" Or like, "I would prefer if you could talk about your 'feelings' like a 'normal' person." Or, "We need to have 'a talk.'" I tell people that I am not interested in having 'a talk' at any point, EVER, and they laugh, and think that's "cool" but then inevitably always wind up trying to have 'talks' with me anyway, and then I get drunk at ten in the morning and wish I was dead because everyone is a liar.

  • I want to tell people that I really like their "work" a lot, but I never do, because I'm afraid they will think I "want" something from them. Like I want to associate with them to become relevant/or I want to see their penis in my vagina/mouth because they wrote something and some people read it. Since I am a fuck up and don't know how to behave normally, I try to just tell everyone I know to like pay attention to that person, because that seems as good or better, maybe than just telling them I think they are "good." and that I would probably want to be their friend in real life it seems like.

  • The things I expect to REALLY devastate me never do.

  • I feel like my dad might be dead, and I feel like I will just find out five years from now, it will just be mentioned in passing, and then I will be like, "Oh, I've suspected that for the last five years, but didn't know who to ask." It's also equally likely he just doesn't want to talk to me, because he thinks I'll ask him for money, and let's be honest, I probably would.

  • Last two texts I sent people, "Damn it feels good to be a gangsta," and "I'm so bored of child rape."

  • I have never faked an orgasm.

  • I'm not sure if depression is a mood disorder or a perception problem. Like, I kind of want to kill myself all the time, and often try, but I think what I'm feeling, which is constant loneliness, regardless of my social standing or relationship status, and constant existential despair is just what "being alive" feels like.

  • I am working on a "controversial" essay and drinking coffee while swallowing handfuls of prescription and non prescription medication ; )

  • Goodnight.






Definitely "Losing" This Week

So, I had spoken about how everything I do in the world is because I hate this particular person and I just want to be "better" than them. I don't want them to "die" because then they will never know that I am better than them. I don't actually want their face to be entirely eaten off either, because I also need them to be able to SEE that I am better than them. It'd be cool and also "ironic," if you're into using the word ironic incorrectly, if maybe their hands just got eaten off.

Last week I felt like I was "better" than them. This week, they were inadvertently written about on ALG. That definitely matters to no one, but it's a symbolic loss nonetheless. Gotta step up my game guys. What should I do? Videotape myself jacking off the root dick as I am inexplicably drooling cum? Photoshop texts of mean things people have said about me over pixxx of my tits? Fuck a "famous" person? I better do something, and fast, cause lord knows my work doesn't "speak for itself."

Speaking of which, I've been trying to subtly insinuate to people they should read/publish things by Jereme Dean. I read this piece he wrote about his life a long time ago and cried a little. Thought it was pretty beautiful. I feel like he is wonderful, I read this blog he wrote the other day about chicks and shit, and I laughed really hard. It seems like he's the only person who "keeps it real." I think he's doing a really good job. I wanted to leave that on his blog, I wanted to say something like, "Please write more things, because there aren't enough, and please continue being an 'asshole' because your honesty makes me feel like you are a good person who actually cares about writing and not just someone trying to show a nice face to make yourself more relevant. It makes me feel not 'disgusted' by everything." I was too scared though. I'm pretty terrified of people.





Will She?

Yesterday one of the searches that led to Deathcapades was, "Will she fuck on xanax?"

I felt like there was a good chance she would.

I also felt like the root dick was probably the one who wanted to know.


p.s. Austin, what do you think is more terrifying A) The root dick querying terms related to your future rape or B) Waking up in the middle of the night, opening your eyes, and seeing "the thing" standing over your bed?




Monday, June 18, 2012


Austin and I coined the term "bathsalty" to describe things such as the root penis, Phil Spector, C. Stodden and her relationship, Tila Tequila riding a zebra with a juggalo face, and behavior like shitting in or on other people.

Also, this just in: Austin coined the term "bathininsalts" to describe being high on bathsalts via, "That's what all cocks look like when you're bathininsalts."




(A bunch of edited shit I wrote about bath salts.)

The only thing that's "precious" to me is Gabby fucking Sidibe.


Sunday, June 17, 2012

Because It's Sunday: A Short Compilation of the Most Depressing Things I've Ever Written

I heard your baby is dead. I'm sending you a copy of Antichrist and a mix tape with every version I can find of "Tears in Heaven."


And maybe I had lived that moment, at that party, some thousand times. The moment a couple hugged outside of the house where everyone was celebrating the murder. And I dry heaved into the street. Aspirating on a type of vomit that was made of how bleak the world suddenly seemed.


I woke up and poured tea straight into my throat out of the gallon jug  and swallowed the concoction of medication that made everything seem tepid, and illusory.

And then, there was the usual call about the usual party where the band would play that wore blonde wigs and covered themselves in fake blood over the giant sign that said, "THE JONBENETS." And the theme of the party had something to do with murdereds and murderers. I should be Sharon Tate, someone thought, and someone would be Charles Manson. Someone would be Phil Spector. Someone would be Lana Clarkson.

And then, my roommate told me the story about the guy I'd met once. The one in the buzzband, and how he'd taken too much acid, or too much pcp, and how he'd dug up the dead body and posed with it, and taken pictures of himself fucking it. The story was true because it had been in the newspaper, and someone had seen the pictures on the website that seemed no longer to exist.

And then, I sat down to write the article, because that's what I was being paid to do. And I was an investigative journalist because I had a Macbook and a Google search bar, and people wanted to know where the pornstars had gone. And they were dead, of course, because they'd been strangled to death or dosed on too many OCs, or they had wrecked their cars somewhere, speeding back to the valley from the weekend in Vegas.

And then, I thought about how they'd had labradors, maybe, or golden retrievers, and how they probably read books, and said funny things to their friends. But none of that mattered because the only thing anyone was ever going to remember about them was staring back at me in tiny thumbnails of tits so saturated in cum that it looked like they'd been bathed in Elmer's school glue, and dead eyed open mouthed stares on faces partially obscured by different colored cocks.

And then, I don't really want to live anymore.

And then, someone is probably going to fuck my dead body.




Saturday, June 16, 2012


I went to this place called Mabel Luhan House.

Drank a red chili latte. Saw a scorpion.

Went to a crazy gorge.

Told the person I was with, "Every time I'm up high, I wanna jump, every time I drive in the mountains, I have to exert all the physical control I have not to drive off the side and kill everyone." They laughed nervously.

I bought a virgin moms cross with Chimayo dirt in it.

I'm going to fall asleep now.

I have graphic nightmares constantly, and I talk and laugh in my sleep.

Don't worry, I never stay the night.

Thursday, June 14, 2012

25 Fave Films By Glen Lopez Famous For Being Grad Student/wkd Hot Piece of A$$

ScSchizophreniac: The Whore Mangler

2.       Female Trouble

3.       Earth Girls are Easy

4.       Crimes and Misdemeanors

5.       Annie Hall

6.       Mighty Aphrodite

7.       Brazil

8.       Band of Outsiders

9.       She’s Gotta Have It

10.   Carlito’s Way

11.   Scarface

12.   Batman Returns

13.   Barton fink

14.   In a  lonely place

15.   Mulholland drive

16.   Desperate living

17.   Y Tu Mama Tambien

18.   Welcome to the Dollhouse

19.   What Ever Happened to Baby Jane

20.   The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari

21.   Hollywood Shuffle

22.   Johnny Guitar

23.   36th chamber of Shaolin

24.   Dracula

25.   Beetlejuice


Someone read the blog I wrote called "Pathological Narcissism" and said it reminded them of something from Adbusters and asked if I would write an essay for them. Seems fun, feel excited. Dude, also, I got 55 spam comments today, what kind of shit is that?

Here are some of the highlights:

"I too have a very clear urine and when samples are given at the hoiptsal, mine is always the lightest. I hardly drink water. My doctor tells me I should be happy."

"wipes sweat* Boy do i fell better. At least i am not the only 12 year old that like to watch porn. Idk know why but i just like to At first i tghohut it was gross but then after a while i just started to like it.I think that porn is good for you."





How I Say Happy Father's Day

Asking my dad to pay my phone/credit card bill.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

"I Almost Added Set It Off" 25 Best By Austin Baum of Deep Teens Fame

If you are wondering if Austin Baum is Baum like L. Frank, he is. He's a fucking genius. He's also a poodle loo. Do you see how similar this list is to mine? You can't fake that kind of connection. Austin is the love of my lyfe.



The Crying Game

Beyond The Valley of the Dolls


Desperate Living


Eyes Wide Shut

Boogie Nights

Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?

Night of the Hunter

Waiting for Guffman

Jackie Brown

Rosemary's Baby

Grey Gardens

Sunset Boulevard

Buffalo 66

Battle Royale


The Shining

Basic Instinct

Mullholland Drive


Female Trouble


man grows but woman does not

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

More Bath Salts "Poetry"


Regarding Feminism

Seems like people who "LOVE" Kathy Acker are the same kinds of people who, "Have black/gay friends."

25 fav films. not in order. By Arc Light's Ryan Gabel

1. Bronson

2. There Will Be Blood

3. Onibaba

4. Valhalla Rising

5. Trollhunter

6. The Wild Hunt

7. Pi

8. The Deerhunter

9. Apocalypse Now

10. Disco Pigs

11. Last Life In the Universe

12. The Yakuza Papers

13. Melancholia

14. Electric Dragon 80,000 Volts

15. Drive

16. Casshern

17. Survive Style +5

18. The Exorcist

19. The Descent

20. Moon

21. The Professional

22. Clockwork Orange

23. The Shining

24. Dr. Strangelove

25. Full Metal Jacket

25 good ones that aren't, like, godfather, citzy kane, or goddamn casablanca By Lands Bejeweled's Oz Davidson

local hero - bill forsyth
lovers on the bridge - leos carax
mauvais sang - leos carax
the last detail - hal ashby
night of the hunter - charles laughton

au hasard balthazar - robert bresson
mirror - andrei tarkovsky
pixote - hector babenco
the hole - tsai ming-liang
bad lieutenant - abel ferrara

stroszek - werner herzog
mccabe and mrs. miller - robert altman
fucking amal - lukas moodysson
the general - john boorman
sonatine - beat takeshi

24 hour party people - michael winterbottom
straight time - ulu grosbard
archangel - guy maddin
la luna - bernardo bertolucci
life and nothing more - abbas kiarastomi

the werckmeister harmonies - bela tarr
last days - gus van sant
killer of sheep - charles burnett
the mother and the whore - jean eustache
ariel/la vie de boheme/drifting clouds/the man w.out a past - aki kaurismaki


25 Films You FUCKING Have To See By Raye Jackson Author of Bath Salts and An 'Edgy' Novel

These are my FOR REAL favorite films.


Gore Gore Girls

Beyond the Valley of the Dolls

Last Temptation of Christ

Fists in the Pocket

Carnival of Souls


Last Days


Buffalo 66


Desperate Living

Juliet of the Spirits

The Honeymoon Killers

The Great Happiness Space

Women in Revolt

Boogie Nights


Eyes Wide Shut

Unfaithfully Yours


Pandora's Box

It's a Wonderful Life

My Own Private Idaho

Hedwig and the Angry Inch

*Okay, so this is cheating to some degree, but I also feel like you should watch every film by Guy Maddin, Gaspar Noe, and Lars Von Trier. I couldn't pick just one by any of those people.

Monday, June 11, 2012

Why My Mom Makes Me Cry

My mom went to a job interview today and thinks she didn't get it because she can't do simple math. She really wants the job because you are allowed to wear jeans. She doesn't have a cell phone. She saw an iphone commercial and asked me, "Can your phone talk to you?" I told her it could and she told me to ask it about Japanese restaurants. When it started talking she got really excited and said, "WHO IS THAT?!"



For The Love of God

Someone please let Bret Easton Ellis adapt Fiddy Shades. Talk about a fucking teen dream.

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Getting Published Y'all.

Got a short story accepted by a lit mag I really like. It's paid. First time I've ever submitted anything to anyone, ever. Took less than a day. I really am that good. Suck it, haters.

Just kidding. I mean, that really did happen, but I still h8 myself. I would never tell anyone to, "Suck it." I was just trying to pretend like I believe in myself. #yolo


Saturday, June 9, 2012

Regarding Pets

When I see people on craigslist rehoming their seven year old old dog, I want to like--email them and ask why they don't have a "soul." Feel really disgusted by that shit. People don't know how to act...damn.

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Shame Kippel

Is there a song you'd genuinely like to hear but feel too ashamed to listen to even when you're all alone?

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

So, No Bullshit Guys...

My book will be "done" by Monday at the latest. I'm scared. If you want to read it PLZ get at me. I will send you a "manuscript" I would love to get some "feedback" on it. I promise it will make you laugh, possibly out loud. I will also make you a drawing of literally whatever you want. Plz? I love you.






Tuesday, June 5, 2012


I hope a homeless person on bath salts eats the fuck out of your face asap.

Convo of the Day

Anonymous: So...I'm meeting lil kim on Monday and was supposed to get my "crush on you" kim tattoo by then, but I lost my job. I need a quick miracle. Should I let someone jerk off on me for 200 bux? Sell a dior suit? Or rob someone?

Me: Lololololololololololol

Anonymous: It's a legit crises.

Me: Well robbing someone is bad, the other two seem fine.

Anonymous: Yeah...I think we all know what it's going to have to CUM to

Monday, June 4, 2012

Overall, It's Fine.

I did the thing that's not "cutting" and took a bath with my clothes on earlier. I wake up so I can get high and fall asleep again. I was listening to my mom watch a cooking show, and I think maybe someone said, "Get that precum ready." And then someone else said, "Yep, you put that cum in there." Something to do with cumin I'm sure. Overall, it's fine.

This Is How It Ends

"And you will leave," for infinity lines.

And I will "kill myself" infinity times.


Because You Love Depression

Rain+Swans+Schedule II narcotics.

Maybe dried seaweed. Maybe sesame almonds. Submitting some work to some "lit mags." Maybe I suck. Maybe I will "kill myself" when I get rejected. Maybe I'm a genius. I think I'm the smartest person I've ever met like 75% of the time.

Never met a guy who didn't think he was smarter than me. Never met a guy who actually was.

Sunday, June 3, 2012

In All Seriousness...

I think it's very good to undersell. You don't want people to know they're "fuckin' with the best," lol.

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Real Conversation vs Inner Monologue


Human: "I got a job at McDonald's so I could write about it."

Me: Laughs in a pretty detached way.

Human: "It's like,'performance art' or whatever."


Wow, that's awesome. You're definitely being "ironic" and not working at a shit job because of your professional and social incompetence. Scoffing at the "real" misfortune of others trying to support themselves, and possibly their children/ drug habits as your own personal, condescending art project is hilarious, not to mention novel. Definitely not "disgusting." Good job.


Me: "Cool."


They Published A Short Story By Me At Bed Wetting Stories Dot Com

My ex boyfriend, a "writer" and dude who runs a mysterious, Brooklyn based company with Beach in the title sent me a link to a "fake" story he wrote for a bed wetting website, if you read it, you will see I am clearly "joking" when I refer to him as functionally illiterate. I thought about like, all the other "writers" with blogs who write things like, "Got published on __________today. Got my book reviewed on___________." Just imagined like--writing about irrelevant stupid shit on the regular and laughed really hard for a really long time. Imagined posting things on my blog like, They published my short story at bed wetting dot com. They published my dick on casual encounters. They published my herpes blurb on the experience project, etc, etc. Anyway, here's a link to this really "good" thoroughly proofread bed wetting story.
Evil Punishment

Been in a really good mood the past few days. Feel like the only thing that could make things better is like, someone I hate accidentally or intentionally dying.

Bless You.

A Conversation About The "Root" Penis

R: Remember that time Josh peed on us in the shower?

We were like cleaning the apartment, I don't know if he was my bf at the time, but for some reason we all took a shower together and he fucking peed on us.

A: LOLOLOlolollolol. I vaguely remember that lol!!!!!! ahahahahahahahahah!!!! Why did that happen?

R: I have no idea. Seems weird to even "theorize" about it. Like, did he ask if he could pee on us? Did we tell him to? Were we "on drugs?"

I only ask because he sent me a link to a website this morning that was dedicated to short stories about people wetting the bed.

Dude, anyway, so, imagine like--meeting someone you really "love," like, the coolest person ever, and they get you alone in their room for the first time, and you're making out heavily, like "steamy" teen dream style and they're taking off your clothes n it's all "cute" and you take their pants off and see that "root" penis.

I think I would srsly start crying.

A: LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL I would barf and run.

R: Fuck that would be so crazy. I mean, what if the person was REALLY cool though?

A: Would you cut it off out of fear?

R: lololololololololololol

A: I wouldn't trust anyone ever again.

R: Ahahahahahahahahahaha

A: I think I would instinctually cut it off.

R: Cut it off how? LOL, with the "sex knife" I keep by my bed JIC?

A: Like scissor style, lollololol, "get the sex knife 911" LOL. We need to write this story.

R: Dude, when you said you would "never trust anyone again," I literally like--peed. I started laughing so hard that I cried. I may never stop laughing about it. Let's write a story called "The Sex Knife."


Friday, June 1, 2012

Dead Skin Mask: Or What Happened At The Dollar Store Today

I walked into the dollar store wearing a gray and white striped shirt that belonged to my dad in the 80s.  I was listening to Slayer with white earphones. I walked to the aisle that contained "hella" pills. I grabbed approximately 30 bottles of different types of sleep aids. I walked to the counter where a really hot "multiracial" dread locked dude with green eyes was standing and put them all down on the conveyer belt thing. He said something to me, causing me to take the earphones off.

"Huh?" I said.

"What are you listening to?" He asked.

"Slayer," I said, in a completely characterless way.

"Sounds pretty brutal," he said, laughing.

"Yeah, dude, pretty 'brutal.' This song is called 'Dead Skin Mask' you should buy it on Itunes, or whatever."

He started ringing up my stuff and we stared at each other for a long time in forever seeming silence.

"That's a lot of sleeping pills," he said, laughing again.

"Yeah." I stared at him really intensely in the face. A group of nerdy seeming children walked in carrying ice cream. One of them looked at the hot "multiracial"  dread locked dude and said something like, "HEY, we need to put our ice cream in the freezer. We're going to be in here for a looooooooooooooooooooooong time." He said the last part in a really weird way that seemed "hella" ominous. It seemed like the kind of tone a sleazy guy would say, "It's gonna be a loooooooooong night," in before he rapes you.

The hot "multiracial" dread locked dude seemed really confused, and worried, and said something like, "Yeah, you can put them in the freezer as long as you leave them in the bag with the receipt." They looked at each other really weirdly and then the kids walked down an aisle. I just stood there staring at him.

"You're not going to 'kill yourself' or anything, right?" He said, with a nervous laugh.

"Why? If I told you I was going to kill myself would you like--'do something' about it?" I smiled in a pretty detached way, and he laughed even though he was visibly uncomfortable.

"Does this stuff work?" He asked ringing up the last of a series of dark bottles and white cardboard boxes.

"Well, I mean, it's not heroin, ya know? It's not OC. It's not even Ambien or Xanax, but if you take a whole bottle plus like ten Benadryls you'll pretty much 'black out.'"

I expected him to laugh at that, I don't know why. He didn't laugh though, he just said, "I see," really awkwardly handing me my bags and then said, "Well, um--seems like those kids REALLY need help so--I better get over there and see what's going on."

I drew a lot of pictures today. Everything from stills from the music video "It's Raining Men" to BBW chola porn, to this pic of Fred Durst. Let me know if you are having "one of those daze" and I will send it to you.