facebook chat with floyd (edited).

Buttercup

if i told you what i am thinking right now you would say 'buttercup has bad taste'

or something

4:33pmAndrew

haha no

do tell

4:34pmButtercup

i want to stick my 'wang' in this 'broad' (insert photograph of a 20-something-year-old girl who is 'oddly attractive' in a 'supermodel-meets-adorable-grandmother' way)

4:34pmAndrew

thats the one with the b/f sorta

?

4:34pmButtercup

damn

good memory bro

you have a good memory bro

'buttercup likes this'

4:35pmAndrew

lol

4:35pmButtercup

feel like i will eventually think she is 'fucking ugly' or something fucked

4:35pmAndrew

i dont blame you

she's sorta cute

yeah

best to not get too involved

4:35pmButtercup

she's 'extremely cute' irl

4:36pmAndrew

i feel scared when i like girls who are not 'commitment hot'

4:36pmButtercup

she is 'the kind of girl' you ask yourself every five minutes 'wait, how did "this" happen'

'this' referring to 'everything ever'

4:36pmAndrew

yeah

i know

i feel strange

4:36pmButtercup

damn

'wassup'?

4:37pmAndrew

so camille said she's gonna give me a birthday surprise video, but i don't know if i even 'care' if i get it or not, but i feel sad because i keep checking my inbox, waiting for a surprise, 'when its not'

4:38pmButtercup

damn

seems 'lame' or something to me

4:38pmAndrew

yeah

4:38pmButtercup

'weird'

4:38pmAndrew

i dont know

i feel like

'cheated' or that she 'doesn't care about our friendship'

4:38pmButtercup

that's fucked

4:39pmAndrew

yeah

but what really bothers me is that i'm waiting for a surprise

isn't that retarded

i feel like i wanna write something

but i could care less

i'm gonna remember everything about this day anyway

i got 400 dollars worth of shoes for 60 bucks today

4:39pmButtercup

i think that that's fucked because she does care about your 'friendship' and you waiting for a video when you haven't mailed my book/nicotine makes it 'lamefucked' and maybe like 'you don't deserve a video, cunt' or something

feels like some uncontrollable emotions came out in that writing maybe

also, 'waiting for a surprise' is a 'personality disorder'

4:41pmAndrew

yeah

4:41pmButtercup

it's like 'waiting for your destiny'

hahaha

4:41pmAndrew

i feel like i should be 'completely offended' but i'm 'in total agreement with everything you said'

and even considering 'changing my name' to 'Jackass McCuntsicle'

4:41pmButtercup

damn bro

damn

a sky scraper made of flapjacks that has some 'major structural issues.'

fork
fork
fork
fork
fork
fork
syrup
butter

pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
hilary clinton pap smear
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
pancake
plate
plate
plate
plate
plate
table

damn.

camille louise frere commits suicide on the fourth of july 2009. she puts twelve firecrackers in her mouth and lights them on fire. she pretends that she is giving michael jackson and billy mays simultaneous blow jobs. she thinks 'sweet cocks' and 'sweet sweet honey butterscotch cocks' and uses a match to light the firecrackers. she does this because she is severely depressed and on a lot of speed. it is her fifth day of taking too many speed pills. she thought 'everyone is dead' just before doing this. 'fuck america. fucking america is just like shit' she thinks. all that past week she had listened to michael jackson on tape casette on her dad's old boom box and had watched billy mays infomercial playlists on youtube as a 'tribute' or 'memorial' or something to the sweet sweet cocks in her mouth. 'jesus christ. these are the sweetest sweet cocks' she says in a muffled and mostly not-discernible voice because of the twelve firecrackers in her mouth. she is wearing a red white and blue dress designed to look 'all-american' or something in a sort of '50s housewife retrospective manner and looks fairly sexy. she ate a lot of kosher grilled hot dogs with a lot of relish and listened to her father make a speech to their neighbors about how 'fucking awesome' america is. the neighbors seemed somewhat impressed but mostly had an expression like 'goddamn. damn. goddamn' on their faces when he was giving the speech. camille louise frere decided that she would rather have a dozen firecrackers stuffed in her mouth and lit and think something like 'i have michael jackson and billy mays's cocks in my mouth and they taste like butterscotch or something' than be in america. 'firecockers' she thought and kind of chuckles. she gets very worried suddenly because there are twelve lit firecrackers in her mouth. 'they are dead. every celebrity is dead because everyone is fucking dead. i am dead as shit' she thinks. her brother's girlfriend molly walks up and sees her standing in a fairly sexy dress and with twelve lit firecrackers in her mouth and says 'what are you doing'. camille takes the firecrackers out of her mouth and throws them in a nearby cooler filled with water and says 'assassinating your bitch ass'. molly says 'i don't have a bitch ass. your ass is "bitch"' and sighs loudly. 'fuck you hoe bag' camille says and then immediately feels severely fucked because she likes molly and does not want to alienate her. 'i take it back' she says. molly says 'do you want beer? there is amstel light and corona light and bud light and maybe champagne chilling somewhere'. camille says 'i am on speed' and her face becomes a giant down parabola on a 50" x 50" grid with each box having an area of 1 squared inch showing that she is not okay with drinking alcohol while on speed. 'my heart will stop' she says. 'damn' molly says. camille louise frere does not commit suicide. what just happened in this story probably happened on the back lawn of the house that camille louise frere lives in. when she walks toward the front lawn she (unbeknown to her) steps on a very small grasshopper that just finished crying at about two decibels for four hours straight because his wife left him. 'my wife left me' the grasshopper sobs, 'i am dead as fucking shit. everyone is dead'.

gmail chat with tao lin (uneditted).

11:50 PM me: read your last tweet. i think it's 'the descendents' brotao: bro

fuck11:51 PM me: i could be wrong though

11:52 PM tao: deleted it

me: damn

tao: sup

me: 'chillin'

trying to paint on the computer

11:53 PM but i think my processor is too slow

'fucking blows'

sup

tao: layin on my bed

me: you're not writing bro?

i thought you were a 'famous writer'

tao: tryin

11:54 PM to

me: damn

tao: damn]

me: i think i will 'try' to write something to later maybe

idk

11:55 PM bro

one of my blog's contributors left the blog

11:56 PM tao: is tumblr 'fucking' down

me: seems okay, but also like everything is falling apart

damn

11:57 PM tao: damn

hearing descendants songs i never heard before

me: trying to download 'somery'

don't know if i 'get' punk

might have been born to late or something

11:58 PM it isn't downloading

fuck

12:00 AM bro

how did you 'invent' your 'voice'?

tao: bro

damn

me: is that something you 'disclose'?

tao: damn, maybe not

me: seems pretty ubiquitous now

seems like you did something 'effectively'

12:01 AM damn

did you hear bro?

tao: damn what

me: i hate to break it to you

michael jackson is supposedly dead

tao: dmn

me: 'can't fucking believe it' or something

12:02 AM tao: seems ok

me: i guess

i guess i kind of expected it to happen in 15-30 maybe 50 years from now

12:07 AM tao: damn

12:08 AM me: https://twitter.com/abstersion/status/2367756687

12:10 AM tao: sweet

12:13 AM me: passion pit seems pretty relevant bro

tao: dam

12:14 AM me: and the dirty projectors are considered a 'buzz band' to some degree

haven't listened to them though

12:18 AM tao: scratching my penis

me: damn

'successfully' or 'unsuccessfully'?

12:19 AM seems like i 'unsuccessfully' do that a lot

tao: damn

didn't think of it like that

12:21 AM me: i wish that i had a girlfriend bro

girlfriends seem good

tao: glad i have a gf

me: damn

12:22 AM i feel like 'the only bro in the world without a girlfriend' right now

seems like there isn't much demand or something

how did you get a girlfriend bro?

12:23 AM tao: through my career

me: damn

i need a 'career' too

also seems unavailable but for other reasons

12:24 AM 'unattainable' rather

tao: jus gotta 'keep goin'

might masturbate soon

me: seems good

12:25 AM seems like i would too, but i think my grandmother is in my house

damn

tao: lock your door bro

me: don't have a door

'totally fucked'

hope she leaves soon

i need to restart my computer bro

goodnight bro

12:26 AM tao: night

i think that i will try to 'standardize' my shit again

hella awesome dude

we're just friends who have unprotected sex

i am so sick of everything

i need a new camera if i am going to ever be a famous filmmaker or make a short that people will think is 'artsy' or 'fucking insane' or anything. buy me a new camera

i don't know if i like music, but it seems pretty important

music shouldn't exist. why does music exist.

fuck.........

i am having a shitty day on account of craving cow's milk pretty badly

i spent ten to fifteen minutes staring at my own username trying to convince myself that i should sign out of twitter

i feel completely odd and not at all convenient

jesus

when i combine groups of words into sentences i mostly feel like no one understands what i am trying to convey.

i was reading some of my old work today on my other blog romantic rhetoric and realized that for the past six months most of the things that i attempted to say to people never really filtered through my brain or turned into 'communication'. i mostly said a lot of things that referred to thoughts that were both personal and something like 'inside jokes to myself' as opposed to 'well-communicated rhetoric that could be cross-referenced with other material or at least misinterpreted as something intellectual and maybe funny'. this makes me feel like i am a mediocre writer and like there is no 'redemption' or 'satisfaction' in me now trying to communicate things to you, an unseen audience, as if i 'understand your frame of reference', especially since i don't/can't/don't care what you think because i believe that i have 'superior' 'taste' or something.

i am just between feeling 'apathetic' and feeling 'like fucking shit' and want to document it sort of.

my mom bought some 'izze' pure fruit juice and sparkling water. i have never had this drink before. i think i will try it. it is blackberry flavored.

if i could get angry enough i think that i might possibly be willing to break an object that is very important to another person. i have not done this in my entire life yet i don't think.

what is my motivation for writing this?

why am i writing this?

why am i writing this the way that i am writing this?

i vaguely feel like 'there isn't anything very interesting anywhere between australia, canada or the moon' and 'when someone goes to mars then i will have a reason to get rich and i will work very hard to get rich and go to mars once it is nice and sustainable, etc'.

i don't want to have children but i am very curious what a person who is half me and half a woman i feel awkward about might look like. and act like. and how that person would feel toward me. but i don't think i am willing to sign off on that ever happening.

what the fuck is this? what the fuck is this? what the fuck is this? what the fuck is this?

'izze' contains 70% fruit juice and 'a splash' of sparkling water.

i sort of wanted to talk to brandon gorrell on gmail chat today, but when i saw that he was online i felt like i should read some of the things on his blog first maybe. then i went back to gmail and saw that he was not online. i might have said 'fuck' or something when this happened.

i don't feel like writing anymore. i feel like taking a very long piss. i feel like taking a very long piss and then finishing this can of gross-tasting 'izze' and then posting my sci-fi novel online since i missed the deadline yesterday and everything.

they were both wearing pink and disappointing me without knowing it.

my brother went away to a christian music retreat this morning. yesterday was his 'going away party'. i don't like my brother very much. he judges people for what kind of outlook they have on life rather than if he can have a good time just sitting next to them. that makes me not want to sit next to him or even talk to him about things that aren't basically very sarcastic. i was going in and out of sleep while he was walking out of the door and i happened to doze off right when he was leaving and didn't say goodbye.

my brother's 'going away party' yesterday was in the back yard of the house my parents bought when he was six days old. it has a concrete patio surrounded by a sloped lawn. my brother set up some instruments and chairs and tables and food and a bunch of people came over and talked about things and kind of swayed to the music and clapped their hands. i wasn't there. i rode my bike to college park about an half-an-hour before the party 'started' because i felt that i should get inebriated before interacting with large numbers of christians or black people.

when i got to college park i received a text message from a girl saying that she would be visiting for the day, so i got very excited because i have something like a crush on her. i got very excited and then realized that i had nothing to do for the three hours before she would get there, so i went to my friend with an awesome moustache's house. he wasn't home. then i called the dj that lives across the street from my friend with an awesome moustache. he told me to come over. he and his girlfriend were outside smoking cigarettes and waiting for her friend from baltimore to come visit. when i was kind of far away the dj's girlfrend yelled 'buttercup!' and i yelled her name and she laughed very loud and i felt content with my entire life at that moment.

her friend took a wrong exit on 450 and accidentally went into virginia, but she got there about a half-an-hour after i got there and we started smoking marijuana and talking about 'collective consciousness' and how there is going to be a revolution very soon. then we started drawing. i haven't drawn for a long time, but enjoyed drawing with them. here is a picture of what i drew.

i tried to upload a picture of what i drew, but apparently it's too large. maybe i'll try again later or something.

we went to 'hard times cafe' to get food. i didn't have any money, so i just ate the soup crackers, but without the soup, and ordered some water. then we went to the club where the dj's buddy who is also a dj and whose djing equipment they share, played a show the night before, to pick up the djing equipment that he left at the club. i helped my friend put the turn tables in his girlfriend's friend from baltimore's truck and told him i was going to go see the girl who text messaged me when i first got to college park. i said goodbye to everyone and then my ex-girlfriend walked out of 7-11 with her new boyfriend and i walked away very quickly and couldn't stop looking back over and over. she was wearing a pink shirt.

i went to south campus and met with the girl who had text messaged me earlier and she was sitting with three other gypsies. one of them likes to take his shirt off frequently, another likes to play hacky sack, and the other seems like one of the most intellectual people i have or will ever meet, but seems to be severely depressed for some reason and so he doesn't talk much. i gave the girl who had text messaged me earlier a hug over a banister 'for the novelty of it' and smiled and stood back and cried a little because she was wearing pink just like my ex-girlfriend was. she looked better in pink than my ex-girlfriend did though, and this was somewhat comforting.

we left the three gypsies and started walking and talking. we walked across campus and talked about very sarcastic things. i asked her if she wanted to make out, or i said 'let's make out' or something. she smiled and a very sweet, vacant expression crossed her face. i really thought about kissing her very hard and not stopping until the sun was all the way gone, but instead i said 'just kidding' and we kept walking. she told me a lot of secret things while we walked and i felt like i was being tickled from the inside of my stomach until i gave her a hug and she got on the bus. at some point i got extremely, irrationally angry because i wished that she made me kiss her after she realized that i wanted to, but then i felt stupid and started just focusing on not telling the girl i called earlier that she and my ex-girlfriend were both wearing pink today because i did not want her to feel 'bad' about it, since it was a coincidence and everything.

an interview with ryan manning.

bmcg: what is your occupation (technically)?
rm: none

bmcg: what age do you feel?
rm: 35

bmcg: are there any stupid questions?
rm: no

bmcg: have you ever backed out of anything important, e.g. your mother's wedding, your own exorcism, a potentially lucrative bet?
rm: yes

bmcg: what is your favorite color?
rm: blue

bmcg: what street were you born on?
rm: Champlin Avenue

bmcg: what is the most personally nostalgic song that you can think of?
rm: The 5th Dimension - Up, Up and Away

bmcg: what is your favorite type of cloud?
rm: nacreous

bmcg: meerkat, tapir, or swamp leech? why?
rm: meerkat

bmcg: how are you?
rm: tired

a short story that i desperately hope gets published somewhere besides here one day.

once upon a time. there was mickey mouse. and bugs bunny. and the little engine that could. and an abnormally large erect penis. and andy rooney. and maybe a woman. somewhere. maybe.

'stupid' handwritten 2000 times.

seems like i wrote that title to be dramatic
and then realized that i felt very sarcastic about that title
then realized that 'auto-admonishment' was the initial impulse for writing that title
and that at some point i felt like i would be a happier person if i filled the space on this blog with what that title implied
but then i felt very comfortable with not having done something 'as stupid as writing "stupid" 2000 times'
and decided
that sleeping for the next 24 hours
seems like an 'infinitely sweeter' idea
i just thought 'i don't think that i will ever ever die' then 'chuckled'
my neighbor said today 'if i have to live in this fucking reality, then i want to know a little bit of what is happening'
i feel like i know 'absolutely nothing about "what is happening"'
sleep seems 'good'

i feel seperate from everything.

i feel like my consciousness is the product of a nearly infinite number of previous instances
converging and imploding into the single, infinitely complex instance of me writing this

i feel like your consciousness is the product of a nearly infinite number of previous instances
converging and imploding into the single, infinitely complex instance of you reading this

everything that i think, no matter how abstract it is, is just the result of everything happening everywhere, but in sequence

i can't think anything that i haven't drawn as a conclusion
and whenever i do think something 'original', it is definitely always the 'result' of something i have no control over making my brain think something, which feels depressing

i feel like everything that is happening is 'new'
but also like it is all 'part of a big new infinity of stupid' because i only value very little parts of it
i just realized these 'very little parts' are also infinitely complex stupid convergences of everything
i feel empowered by realizing this
because my parents think that everything was created by a guy they 'met' after reading about him in a book
which is maybe worse than 'stupid;, in my 'stupid' 'opinion'
because it is 'stupid' for a person to think that a person made everything

i am not a 'person'
because i am happening now and 'persons' happened before
so i am a cyborg
i am a beautiful cyborg with love in its heart
that's stupid

andrew and crystal meth on a bus with a cantaloupe.

andrew decides that getting his hair cut is a bad idea because he feels that if it were trimmed any shorter he would look something like a lesbian with an 'ironic' moustache, which frightens him. andrew thinks about how killing himself in some dramatic manner seems like a better idea than getting his hair cut. andrew thinks that he would prefer to die in a situation keeping with james dean's 'stance' on 'mortality' than with an outward appearance potentially paying homage to the population of diabetic 'muff divers'' disregard for 'aesthetic propriety'. a hispanic child sitting across from andrew on the bus 'playfully' tosses a cantaloupe towards andrew's lap, inflicting sudden and extremely disorienting pain on andrew's testicles. the hispanic woman sitting next to the hispanic child looks with mild distress towards andrew's crotch, leans over and picks up the cantaloupe, hits the hispanic child in the back of his head and sits back down with a blank expression on her face. andrew thinks that the chances that he will not be able to have children in the future have just increased about 19% and thinks that this would not have happened if he were a 'crystal meth user', but also that he would not like to have a child because of the hispanic child's actions, but also that he is not hispanic, though he is canadian. andrew decides that buying a sandwich with the money he saved by switching to geico is definitely better than dying 'or' a hair cut.

andrew and shelby and crystal meth.

andrew is walking down main street, looking for marijuana. he sees shelby's house over the trees on 34th place. shelby is a drug dealer. shelby should have some marijuana. andrew calls shelby. shelby picks up her phone. shelby says i only have some crystal meth, do you want some crystal meth. andrew just wants marijuana. andrew feels sad and like there is a very small rubber ball filled with cement lodged in his diencephalon. andrew takes the bus to get a hair cut.

left the fuck out.

damn. feels like eight retards are controlling a giant set square, point-side-up, that is simultaneously being lowered and pulled down, over my head, jostled through the thick of the crown of my skull, cross-sectioning the middle of my brain down to my jaw, and is then slowly being removed, lifted up about three feet, and then lowered again, for the ultimate purpose of measuring the length of my shoulders, using the pythagorean theorem.

yesterday i ran into my friend who has an awesome moustache while i was walking around, looking for a job. He was in the driver's seat of a running car, which i have never seen happen before, and he told me he didn't have any cigarettes but that 'they' were 'hooking it up' tonight. so i made a point to call him later.

i walked across the street to a comic book shop and asked the proprietor how business was going. he said 'alright' or something like that, and then asked if i had a question. i replied that i was interested in working there, to which he said 'it's not going that well' which was the response i expected, so i asked a few more courtesy questions, out of curiosity, because the location of the shop seemed in no way advantageous, yet they seemed to have a steady stream of comic book readers going in and coming out. the only answer he would give me was that 'this comic book shop was founded in 1983' with a dead stare, accompanied by and a couple of 'uhuhs'. so i took my cue to leave. the man behind me walked up to the register and said 'number one-hundred eighty-five' to which the proprietor nodded and immediately walked into the back storage room. 'curious' i thought. 'nerds' i immediately thought after that.

i walked back to my grandmother's car, where she sat, fanning herself because of the heat and humidity, and i told her that i had picked up an application from the deli at the corner of the plaza. she smiled and asked if i wanted something to drink. she handed me ten dollars from her knock-off fendi purse, and i proceeded into CVS to get two arizona iced teas with lemon. i was tempted to buy cigarettes, but didn't.

my grandmother and i went to the movie theater after this, to see 'up'. we were the only people in the theater. my grandmother cried aloud multiple times. 'up' is my least favorite of all of pixar's films. it is about a series of dreams that people have that do not come true. that is all that it is about as far as i can tell. outside of the theater, a man bummed me a cigarette. He had torn a hole in the bottom his pack, which an old crackhead once told me is a sign that he has been to prison. i put the cigarette behind my ear and thanked him. my grandmother and i started driving to my house and it began to rain to the point where the windshield wipers were absolutely useless, so we pulled over under a tree, and waited until the dime-sized hail pellets stopped falling on the moon-roof. i heard something like the sound of a train rushing toward us and lightning struck just over the hill. i felt very happy and exhilarated throughout this experience.

once we were at my house i put the cigarette in my mouth and went to check and see if water had flooded the basement. the cigarette did not get wet from the rain at all. there was no standing water in the basement. the rain stopped. i felt severely depressed. i went out on my porch and smoked my cigarette. i imagined that i was on my own planet with a trillion high-definition televisions making up the planet's surface, playing a synchronized, ever-changing, fractal pattern everywhere. off in the distance, nuclear bombs exploded and x-planes that have yet to be designed, ripped each other to shit in insane dogfights, and i stood, calm, serene, smoking my cigarettes on the edge of a nuclear bomb's crater, where i could see the planet's interior. A mesh of pop-culture images and characters, all alive and writhing, intertwined and made up the fleshy, cartoony center of this planet, and the image of this scared me into opening my eyes, and i saw that there were big trees all around me, and this made me more afraid. i took a final drag from my cigarette as the rain began again.

i went inside of my house and ask my grandmother if she would like to be serenaded. she said yes. i played my guitar until she fell sound asleep. i stopped playing and traveled to the basement, to my futon where my comforter and pillow waited me. i slept. i woke up at midnight and remembered that my friend with an awesome moustache said 'they' were 'going to hook it up' tonight. so i called him. he didn't answer. i looked at my phone. i had no missed calls. i went back beneath my comforter and on top of my pillow, to sleep.

today i was disappointed all day for no apparent reason whatsoever. then around 5:30p.m. i went onto facebook.com and saw a brand new photograph album had been uploaded. after looking through about five-to-seven pictures i realized that 'they' were 'hooking it up' last night, and eventually i saw a picture of my friend with an awesome moustache and suddenly felt 'left the fuck out'. that is why i wrote this. thanks for giving me your attention.