#EAT THIS
[E]xtraordinarily [A]rbitrary [T]houghts [T]o [H]ighlight [I]nsolent [S]ardonicism
Extraordinarily Arbitrary Thoughts from 2011 while healing from multiple surgeries on voice-rest in an isolated cabin (Redbug) near AL-GA line…
Pet Peeved Proverbs. Solitude for Solace. Bodies and Nobodies.
Give me back my evergreen tree, Jeremiah. Happy Saturnalia.
This is a lot like heaven, except without all the boring dead people.
Bordering on genius just means obsessive.
When I grow up I want to be a starving artist.
Do you have to be tired to make babies? How come you gotta go to sleep then?
Montaigne said it already. Montaigne said it already. Montaigne said it already. Somehow a guy in France wrote down all my thoughts 500 years ago.
Da Vinci’s genius isn’t because of aliens. That’s silly.
99% of all drum solos are sillier than Da Vinci’s genius being attributed to aliens.
I can't wait to get back to society so I can say really inappropriate things at all the wrong times. Life sure is swell.
I'm uncertain of everything except the fact that I'm uncertain of everything and that you are also uncertain of everything, therefore I shall not believe a word of your uncertainty and no earthly man shall have authority over me or my uncertainty.
Are you the type of person who likes to tell people what type of person you are? I’m the type of person who doesn’t like that. You’re the type of person who’s always searching for what type of person you are, because you have no idea who you are, and you have no faith in your own ability to know yourself, so you project that onto everyone you meet by saying, “I’m the type of person who…” and “you’re the type of person who…”
There’s another type of person who takes advantage of your type of person by charging you money to tell you what type of person you are… personality “types,” psychological “conditions,” “signs,” human taxonomy, horoscopes…
Daily Horoscope: You're fucking stupid. You should meet the jackass that gets paid to write about your future. His name is Dwayne. He lives in Newark. He's been married and divorced 3 times. He has 2 bastard children he's never met. He was an aspiring novelist, but received mixed reviews on all 2 of his published works. He was hired on to write horoscopes last year when Larry had a stroke. Tomorrow's forecast is not looking good for you: You're going to die tomorrow.
You're walking through the woods a few miles west of the Chattahoochee River, and you run into this strange, one-eyed furry Caucasoid, you... A) shoot it B) shoot it several times C) shoot it several times then rape the corpse D) give it drugs and alcohol and teach it tricks.
If you answered A or B, its OK. you're prolly from around these parts. If you answered C you're suffering from a serious psycho-sexual condition and should seek help immediately. If you answered D you get to go to heaven when you grow up. Yay. Nice work! High five.
After 3 months voice rest isolated in the cabin, I’m doing weekly vocal therapy and 3x daily vocal exercise. I’m just supposed to sing a lot now without straining. So, I'm going back to the start: Beatles, Beach Boys, Everly Brothers.
I'm not 8 years old anymore singing into one tape recorder and harmonizing along with playback. I have Protools this time! This time Dad's not here telling me to stop playing piano. I’m just gonna sang all goddam night if I feel like it.
THOUGHTS ON ASSUMPTION: jumping to conclusions with little knowledge, I think, however I can’t be certain.
YOU MAY NOT WANT TO DIE FOR RELIGION OR COUNTRY, BUT YOU DAMN WELL WANT TO DIE FOR SOMETHING. Ideology is a religion.
Don't trust a person who knows her or himself too well. They're either dumb or lying.
There's a party at the gates of hell tonight, and you’re invited, Genevieve.
I know why I'm liberal. Do you know why you're not? Have a look at the dictionary.
It's difficult to balance out the necessity of a drug that I enjoy recreationally while living in such pain.
Fake sympathy or real apathy?
FACEBOOK: making communication dull, miscommunication prevalent, turning faces into pictures and people into comments since 2004.
I just went to another world, but I wanted to stay and fix this one. Think about that next time you call me an egotist.
Judge success by means of balancing one's insecurities with one's knowledge. Curiously, (nudge nudge) one tends to present oneself more securely when one is experienced and knowledgeable. The almighty successful one has no reason to prove he's successful nor does he have any reason to prove another wrong.
We wee silly monkeys have evolved little, doolittle. Watch us prance around on all fours with the world held as ransom. Our demands are meager: drugs, sex, and rock'n'roll fuel the rambler, so simply and quaintly. The messiah isn't tear-jerkin’. Whomever he or she may be silently awaits.
P.S. It's not about a song. It's not about desperation, desire, love, lust, hatred, sadism, masochism, narcissism. It's not about recollection or anticipation, past or future. It’s not about martyrdom or sacrifice. It's about every moment that's profound enough. Most moments are profound enough if you're paying attention. The record is just a timeline.
I've been at Redbug for months and I'm out here EVERY NIGHT. I've never heard howling like I have tonight: barking, squealing, yelping, and howls of all sorts in every direction. All the animals are in on it, from the frogs and fish to the birds. There are animal calls I've never heard that sound like they're right next to me. They're everywhere! Full moon fever (with a freshly waning gibbous).
A little bit of booze could fix that problem you've been dealing with all day. Go ahead. It's OK. Jesus still loves you. So do I. The devil is in the details.
Why do you want me to attend your events? Or are you just a schemer like me, capitalizing on the infamy of yesteryear. High school! What's high school? I only attended a year and a half of high school. I have a pretty strong stomach, but high school still makes me vomit. How is your sex-farm-wizard? Did you teach him morality yet? He would tell you to get off your lazy ass and talk to people in real life (if you bred him right... You probably didn't, silly internet farmer).
Lies: A Guide to American Living
It’s the gunman. It’s not the music, the video game or the clothes. There’s a deeper problem, here.
I’ve never known a happy person to study psychology. I’ve never known a happy psychiatrist.
One time I had this psychiatrist in Huntsville when I was a teenager. He shot himself. Apparently my Grandfather was a psychiatrist, and he shot himself when he was thirty. Why go through all the years of schooling and training? If you’re going to shoot yourself, just go chill in the woods first.
Political correctness is another failed attempt at containing the ambiguity of morality.
Marital traditions are ridiculous. Love is not a matter of societal hierarchy, self-worth or possession. Maybe if money wasn’t all intertwined in the marriage thing, there’d be a lower divorce rate. Money ruins all things. Mammon.
Turn me on dead man. I buried Paul-itical gibberish at the end of the track.
What kind of jackass doesn’t want to pet the cat?
As soon as you said, “I’m the kind of person who…” I knew exactly what kind of person you were. You’re an obnoxious person. Bye bye.
P.S. “I am on voice rest therefore I cannot speak.”
After 3 months in isolation, I went to Emory for a checkup. I had parking validated, showed the lady at the front desk my button: “I am on voice rest therefore I cannot speak.” I wrote a note asking about wifi, and she grabbed the notepad and wrote “Yes.” Repeatedly, people grabbed the notepad and wrote responses instead of speaking to me.
In admissions, I showed the guy the button and wrote my name and time of my appointment. He looked down and started typing on his computer. Believing he was ignoring me, I turned to walk away when he said, “Sir?” I turned around to see that he’d typed a long message on his computer and was turning the computer monitor around for me to read it.
We communicated this way for several minutes as he struggled to check me in. Every time he had a question, he typed it and turned the computer monitor around for me to read. His co-worker was very impressed with his solution to my communication issue. By this time, it would’ve been rude for me to write, “I’m not deaf.” Neither of them stopped to consider that if I were deaf, while my back was turned to them, I wouldn’t have responded when he said “Sir?”
After that idiocy, I took off the button and wrote, “I can’t talk, but I can hear.”