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Sax and Violins [entries|friends|calendar]
Working Class Intellectual

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[24 Nov 2007|07:29pm]
holy fuck.

i can't believe my account still exists.
3 dead willys X X X nuke the whales!

ho hum [12 Sep 2006|12:09am]
[ mood | predatory ]

if the westcoast is the best coast, the east coast should just hang itself.

You wanted a post? Then here it goes. I ask you, what’s left on the westcoast for me? All it is, is sun and sand. Beaches covered by bitches with fake tits and tans, talking in slang I cant understand and driving SUVs that need to guzzle more gas than there is in Iran. Palm trees, baby t’s, shark attacks and leathered skin. Venti mochas, Tiffany’s chokers, and collagen injected grins. The “real” OC’s a fantasy, a fallacy force-fed by MTV, and they have you suckling off its saline tits. And the only reality is that fake is as real as it gets.

4 dead willys X X X nuke the whales!

[06 Mar 2006|12:01am]
today... is going to be a difficult day.
4 dead willys X X X nuke the whales!

ho hum hum drum dumb dumb boo yah [25 Jan 2006|02:47pm]
[ mood | good ]

i wrote this for my creative writing class, and jill's making me post it so here it is:

The soft light spilled across the room, casting ominous shadows on the walls and its rotting wooden planks and illuminating the silken webs of the spiders sleeping in the corners. The fragile flame of the candle flickered violently with the breeze blowing through the broken window panes that made the yellowed drapes dance like two pale Russian ballerinas. The candle wax, as blood red as a rose is just before it withers and dies, dripped down and across chipped mahogany table, pooling here and there, creating scarlet lakes and rivers and leaving crimson stalactites clinging to the edge. Jacob sat in the only chair at the table, his hands out flat before him and shoulders hunched over as if he were carrying something very heavy upon them. He sat in silence and watched the tiny flame sputter and revive on its wick over and over and over again as he dipped his fingers into the liquid and let it cool and harden on the tips before peeling them off with his thumbs and flicking them onto the floor. His eyes held a quiet sorrow as the weight of the room bore down on him. It wasn’t the dilapidation of the small farmhouse in which he grew up that saddened him, it was the fact that even now, sitting in the very spot he sat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day for the first 13 years of his life, he could remember nothing. His memories were like a thick fog, blinding but at the same time shapeless and untouchable. He had hoped his return would bring about a flood of recollections, but now he would settle for the most miniscule snippet of nostalgia. He let out a sound reminiscent of a braking locomotive, lifted his hand and held it over the candle to feel heat, pain, something, anything. He blinked hard once, twice, then brought his hand down upon the flame, wincing as it scalded his open callused palm. There he sat, his mind racing but at the same time standing still. He realized he was not going to find what he had come in search of, but the blackness of the room brought with it its own sort of reconciliation. No matter where he’d been, or where he’d go, all he’d ever need to do to feel at home again is turn out the lights, because of the fact he had realized so long ago: everything looks the same in the dark.

10 dead willys X X X nuke the whales!

[04 Dec 2005|09:57pm]
[ mood | rejected ]

happy (un)anniversary

2 dead willys X X X nuke the whales!

[01 Dec 2005|10:39am]
fucking snow.
9 dead willys X X X nuke the whales!

friday is D-day is friday [30 Nov 2005|04:58pm]
[ mood | stressed ]

"woof woof, " said the dog.

"meow meow, " said the cat.

"eek eek, " said the mouse

and the cheese... well the cheese just stood there and grinned as he pulled the pin and let the grenade drop to the floor. content that when he went, he wouldn't be standing alone. the rest were coming with him whether they liked it or not.

nuke the whales!

haiku to you too. [07 Nov 2005|10:01am]
[ mood | lonely ]

racing wild thoughts,
the gas pedal to the floor.
i can't outrun you.

raindrops beat your name
on my smeared shattered windshield,
blurring my vision.

the red sun rising,
over wet and grimey streets
and muddied gutters.

cracked, bruised, and bloodied,
the broken city breathes,
crowded and alone

as i'm speeding by.
An empty seat next to me
with no hand to hold.

nuke the whales!

and everyone just dreams of somebody else [03 Nov 2005|01:58am]
[ mood | angry ]

the stars in your eyes are just shattered glass

3 dead willys X X X nuke the whales!

Crede for President [26 Oct 2005|11:40pm]
[ mood | ecstatic ]

riots on the streets of chicago

riots on the streets of normal

swept the world series...

i'm not going to muddy this moment with words.

how sweet it is.

3 dead willys X X X nuke the whales!

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