"Enjoy a fucking a surprise once in a while. It won't kill you," is a knob's thing to say.
No clue what a 'knob' is. Seems beneficial.
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How can you tell that someone is lying?
Think the more relevant question is 'how can you tell when someone isn't lying?'
What do you think of Henry Miller? For me he's one of those who you read in your teens and by your twenties you think you've grown out of his work - when say you reading Joyce or whoever - but now in my thirties I'm beginning to appreciate him.
I think I agree. Miller is like jean-pierre melville. When you're young, his masculine energy captures your heart, then as you start to experience more, you have a nostalgic affinity for him as if he was an 8th grade girlfriend--just an immature fling--then years later, after long and intimate experiences with hundreds of others, you revisit the work and fully realize how beautiful and unique that 8th grade piece of ass really is/was and now the appreciation is much different/deeper/lasting.
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what is your feelings about this image http://www.escapeintolife.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/sabbaths-theater.png and what to you does it suggest/signify/what feelings does it give you?
Reminds me of 'the city nightclub' circa 1994.
I had a look at the the geto boys first album on Wiki - But am interested why you suggest that.
Feel like a large cultural phenomena right now that pisses me of is how people can't just discover something at base value and enjoy it. Like, they always ruin the mystique by searching/reading vague opinions/subjective facts written by some dickhead--or a group of dickheads--who think of themselves as a 'reliable source of knowledge' on a subject, instead of just proceeding into the experience. Strongly believe this is a large reason why people think everything is 'a joke' and/or feel hopeless and crushed from living in the 21st century.
Enjoy a fucking a surprise once in a while. It won't kill you.
Enjoy a fucking a surprise once in a while. It won't kill you.
Who is your son?
Baby J.
?
????
What is the most interesting thing about your family?
lol
Genuinely want to know what you're like in the bedroom
Well, allo allo to you too, sailor!
This is worded in such a way where I can't tell if you grew up watching new episodes of the honeymooners or just someone I know fucking around.
I pretty much do everything in the bedroom since I live in a converted garage.
I think you're asking me what i'm 'in to'. The three monikers that describe my sexual deviance best is 'voyeur', 'emotional sadist' and 'daddy.' Not necessarily all at once though.
My only boundary is non-consenting sex. Feel like forcing yourself on someone is weak. Like, you never see someone trying to gain power over a person who has a definite chance of fighting back and winning. Just seems flagrantly lame to take advantage of a human being like that.
Think someone granting permission to be taken advantage of is way more interesting in regards to 'power'. Beating up a random person is the game of wimps, but, submissively acquiescing to pain, then enduring that pain, is the sport of a champion. Or whatever. It doesn't have to be a physical act of violence.
For instance, I'm really into panties. Stealing/buying them isn't palatable to me. I only want gifted panties because the psychological importance is much greater. The connotation is much different if a woman 'loses' a pair and just wonders where they might've been left compared to willfully giving a man an intimate clothing that's absorbed sweat, blood and ass juice. Like, they'll forget about the lost pair but will always remember/ponder about the pair they offered to a scumbag lecher.
Since my boundaries are so limited, I don't mind doing anything. I think i'm a good 'lover' in that regard. I'm not judgmental about fetishes. People get really hung up on the type of sex they like and often times create deep rooted insecurity over stuff that's really not a big deal.
You're into wearing diapers? Cool. Want to suck your son's cock? Cool. Chasing that disgusting but thrilling feeling from when you were gang raped. Cool.
As long as it's consentual, everything is i'ight with me.
To elucidate though, i'm first and foremost a voyeur. I watch everything.
This is worded in such a way where I can't tell if you grew up watching new episodes of the honeymooners or just someone I know fucking around.
I pretty much do everything in the bedroom since I live in a converted garage.
I think you're asking me what i'm 'in to'. The three monikers that describe my sexual deviance best is 'voyeur', 'emotional sadist' and 'daddy.' Not necessarily all at once though.
My only boundary is non-consenting sex. Feel like forcing yourself on someone is weak. Like, you never see someone trying to gain power over a person who has a definite chance of fighting back and winning. Just seems flagrantly lame to take advantage of a human being like that.
Think someone granting permission to be taken advantage of is way more interesting in regards to 'power'. Beating up a random person is the game of wimps, but, submissively acquiescing to pain, then enduring that pain, is the sport of a champion. Or whatever. It doesn't have to be a physical act of violence.
For instance, I'm really into panties. Stealing/buying them isn't palatable to me. I only want gifted panties because the psychological importance is much greater. The connotation is much different if a woman 'loses' a pair and just wonders where they might've been left compared to willfully giving a man an intimate clothing that's absorbed sweat, blood and ass juice. Like, they'll forget about the lost pair but will always remember/ponder about the pair they offered to a scumbag lecher.
Since my boundaries are so limited, I don't mind doing anything. I think i'm a good 'lover' in that regard. I'm not judgmental about fetishes. People get really hung up on the type of sex they like and often times create deep rooted insecurity over stuff that's really not a big deal.
You're into wearing diapers? Cool. Want to suck your son's cock? Cool. Chasing that disgusting but thrilling feeling from when you were gang raped. Cool.
As long as it's consentual, everything is i'ight with me.
To elucidate though, i'm first and foremost a voyeur. I watch everything.
sorry. this machine is like i'm typing to a machine and not a real person. i wasn't intentionally being passive-aggressive. cos i hate the passive side of passive-aggressive.
strongly recommend listening to the geto boys first album.
Since you lost your virginity, what is the longest period of time you have gone without sex?
I dunno. Never really thought about it. When I was married, I went long periods without sex because a) thought I was going to die at any minute and boners didn't come easy b) hated myself so much that sex wasn't enjoyable c) was in a constant state of moderate to severe physical pain d) married an evil slag and boners sure the fuck didn't come easy.
But, you know, without hunger you can't fully realize satiation.
But, you know, without hunger you can't fully realize satiation.
What are your thoughts on Scott McClanahan and Giancarlo Ditrapano
Scott is a natural entertainer. He's like a modern vaudevillian, I think. Hanging around him is enjoyable. The problem with that sort of person is a) they're always performing and it's difficult or impossible to have a genuine connection with them b) there's always a crowd hanging around. face-to-face communication happens as often as a pussy fart at the boy scout jamboree.
One thing is certain, if scott ever falls on harsh times, he could be the best used car salesman in the country. Not because he's an aggressive salesman, people would just buy cars to be associated with him. He's that affable.
I've never met gian. My boy, kenny sr., speaks highly of him. I almost met gian at an awp. He had just gotten out of the hospital or something, flown to denver and did some drugs at the htmlgiant soiree thing and because of that wasn't at the book fair the next day. i only went to the book fair that one day. Partially, because I was dope sick, but mostly because I can't handle being around all that needy 'do you like me' energy.
I respect what he's done as a publisher and party person.
If you're asking, do I think gian and scott fuck(ed). I don't think it matters. At all. I used to tease gian about fucking his drug buddy, tao lin, but that was motivated by my internal desire to fuck with people. I don't think it matters if they did/didn't have sex.
If you're asking if i'd fuck either of them, I think it's a definite no to scott. He doesn't exude any gay magnetism. A menstruating vagina seems more homoerotic than him.
Gian, on the other hand, there's something about his dead eyes and barely combed hair... I don't think i'd outright fuck him. Envisioning it happening after a couple days of partying together, i'd be a little out of it, feel a tingling sensation on my dickhead, look down and see gian somehow with it in his mouth, then we'd kiss and go from there.
One thing is certain, if scott ever falls on harsh times, he could be the best used car salesman in the country. Not because he's an aggressive salesman, people would just buy cars to be associated with him. He's that affable.
I've never met gian. My boy, kenny sr., speaks highly of him. I almost met gian at an awp. He had just gotten out of the hospital or something, flown to denver and did some drugs at the htmlgiant soiree thing and because of that wasn't at the book fair the next day. i only went to the book fair that one day. Partially, because I was dope sick, but mostly because I can't handle being around all that needy 'do you like me' energy.
I respect what he's done as a publisher and party person.
If you're asking, do I think gian and scott fuck(ed). I don't think it matters. At all. I used to tease gian about fucking his drug buddy, tao lin, but that was motivated by my internal desire to fuck with people. I don't think it matters if they did/didn't have sex.
If you're asking if i'd fuck either of them, I think it's a definite no to scott. He doesn't exude any gay magnetism. A menstruating vagina seems more homoerotic than him.
Gian, on the other hand, there's something about his dead eyes and barely combed hair... I don't think i'd outright fuck him. Envisioning it happening after a couple days of partying together, i'd be a little out of it, feel a tingling sensation on my dickhead, look down and see gian somehow with it in his mouth, then we'd kiss and go from there.
i was having a laugh, kind of appreciating the to and fro of our what I saw as "banter". you counter that by referring to my mom, who raised me well-ish. she kind of pissed me off before she passed. also if u can't laugh at snckpck then when then can u laugh at? what's a more appropriate response?
Feel like the only way to be more pathetic than blatantly passive-aggressive and egotistical is by feigning ignorance about being blatantly passive-aggressive and egotistical.
What are the benefits of being famous?
Only benefit is an easy, steady source of fuck partners.
Have you ever put out a book? Do you ever plan to? Does it appeal to you at all?
No, I haven't. I don't know if I ever will. It's something i've struggled with for a long time.
I've always felt that writing has nothing to do with publication and the latter often demoralizes the former. Like, my motivation for writing poetry was to cope with the severe depression inside my head and heart. It was a release, really, and without it I think I wouldn't be breathing right now. It served its purpose and there isn't much value (to me) for publication.
Most every publisher/editor i've met has rubbed my prostate raw. They're always fake and manipulative or grimey or privileged and bossy. I don't want to compromise my writing for the sake of some dickhead I wouldn't even associate with in concrete reality.
The other aspect that bothers me is having a physical object tied to my name. Just feels weird and egotistical. I'm not sure if this is a residual feeling from 'hating' myself or if its more in line with my 'seaweed' philosophy. I think when I fully analyze and conclude why this bothers me, I'll decide to publish a book or completely forget about it.
With all that said, part of me thinks i should publish. Some books really helped me feel less alone, or, maybe a better way of putting it is, some books really helped me okay with truly being alone. And if something I wrote could help a person in that way, seems egotistical not to publish a book.
I've actually had a 'book deal' with Sententia Books for, like, fuck... 4 or 5 years now. Paula Bomer solicited me and with reluctance I said yes, then thought otherwise.
I love Paula though. She's one of the few genuine people I've met in the crumb game of writing. So, if I ever do decide to publish something, she'd be my choice. Whether she still wants to publish it is up to her.
Cameron Pierce is a good editor. I respect him and wouldn't mind sending something his way. Everybody else is questionable, at best. He's the only reason why I have something in that alt lit anthology. He solicited my writing and I argued against it, then thought, 'damn, dude, stop being such an asshole. cam is cool. trust the cam.' so, yeah, i said yes.
Still have a deep feeling of disgust for having my name printed in a book. I try not to think about it.
I've always felt that writing has nothing to do with publication and the latter often demoralizes the former. Like, my motivation for writing poetry was to cope with the severe depression inside my head and heart. It was a release, really, and without it I think I wouldn't be breathing right now. It served its purpose and there isn't much value (to me) for publication.
Most every publisher/editor i've met has rubbed my prostate raw. They're always fake and manipulative or grimey or privileged and bossy. I don't want to compromise my writing for the sake of some dickhead I wouldn't even associate with in concrete reality.
The other aspect that bothers me is having a physical object tied to my name. Just feels weird and egotistical. I'm not sure if this is a residual feeling from 'hating' myself or if its more in line with my 'seaweed' philosophy. I think when I fully analyze and conclude why this bothers me, I'll decide to publish a book or completely forget about it.
With all that said, part of me thinks i should publish. Some books really helped me feel less alone, or, maybe a better way of putting it is, some books really helped me okay with truly being alone. And if something I wrote could help a person in that way, seems egotistical not to publish a book.
I've actually had a 'book deal' with Sententia Books for, like, fuck... 4 or 5 years now. Paula Bomer solicited me and with reluctance I said yes, then thought otherwise.
I love Paula though. She's one of the few genuine people I've met in the crumb game of writing. So, if I ever do decide to publish something, she'd be my choice. Whether she still wants to publish it is up to her.
Cameron Pierce is a good editor. I respect him and wouldn't mind sending something his way. Everybody else is questionable, at best. He's the only reason why I have something in that alt lit anthology. He solicited my writing and I argued against it, then thought, 'damn, dude, stop being such an asshole. cam is cool. trust the cam.' so, yeah, i said yes.
Still have a deep feeling of disgust for having my name printed in a book. I try not to think about it.
http://ask.fm/HollywoodDaddy/answer/117130691418 - clap-clap-clap bravo, bravo!!! more, more! thanks for that. loved it. but the bit toward the end when you say "Seems like you're jealous of his popularity or something. My suggestion is 'get over him/yourself.'" That sounded sore to my ears. Shoddy.
I can tell you were raised (poorly) by women.
You guys have got it all wrong. This is why you should be on twitter: http://www.newyorkshitty.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/03/smith-and-ninth-street-shit.jpg Look what you're missing out on.
Who the fuck is 'you guys.'
here is why you should be on twitter - https://twitter.com/SNCKPCK/status/509126072366280704 - there is more art in that twitter post's little finger than in your entire existence - now do your job - entertain me
Snckpck is just some kid emulating disney channel characters to get attention from girls, most likely because his parent(s) sat him in front of a television during childhood instead of, like, actually raising a child--because that's hard--and he's working with what he knows.
What's the issue. As far as I can tell, dude isn't begging for money or preaching how to live a better life or anything manipulative or malicious. He's just lacking self-respect and trynna get virtually laid from an audience of goofy virgins. Nothing wrong with that. Like, those types of girls are people too. Pretty obvious any woman who's had a man eat her pussy starting with the armpit is going to look at that dude's 'charm' the way a pit bull treats a snail.
The only genuine issue with 'snckpck' is how vapid, consumerist teenagers in the 80's became vapid, consumerist parents. Which has nothing to do with.
Anyways, at least dude is out there doing his own thang. He's not seeking others for entertainment. Like, how pathetic can a culture get where someone doesn't even know how to entertain themselves. Ya know?
Seems like you're jealous of his popularity or something. My suggestion is 'get over him/yourself.'
What's the issue. As far as I can tell, dude isn't begging for money or preaching how to live a better life or anything manipulative or malicious. He's just lacking self-respect and trynna get virtually laid from an audience of goofy virgins. Nothing wrong with that. Like, those types of girls are people too. Pretty obvious any woman who's had a man eat her pussy starting with the armpit is going to look at that dude's 'charm' the way a pit bull treats a snail.
The only genuine issue with 'snckpck' is how vapid, consumerist teenagers in the 80's became vapid, consumerist parents. Which has nothing to do with.
Anyways, at least dude is out there doing his own thang. He's not seeking others for entertainment. Like, how pathetic can a culture get where someone doesn't even know how to entertain themselves. Ya know?
Seems like you're jealous of his popularity or something. My suggestion is 'get over him/yourself.'
Why would someone want to go on a space trip?
Neptunian pussay.
why do you think you are too good for twitter? and no, don't come back and say "i didn't say that." you may have not said that. but it is the impression i got from what you said, so therefore you said it and i think you are not too good for twitter at all, you coming on all high-and-mighty.
Lol, so not only are you speaking for me but answering too. You must be a compassionate friend and gentle lover.
Think i lucidly conveyed how I feel about twitter. Were you not paying attention or just too clouded with narcissistic rage to comprehend it.
The application itself has no intrinsic value. It's just a large sandbox with very little sand in it. It provides limited content via real time communication. *big fucking eye roll and a thumbs down*
The content within the application is subjectively boring. I don't watch television, have a moratorium on movies made within the last ten years, have nothing but disdain for celebrity culture and have lived a life that makes organic smoothies and drug references subjectively uninteresting.
There's nothing beneficial to be gained by using twitter. The only possible reason for use is if I wanted to create a 'fan base'. I don't. I'm not trying to manipulate anyone into buying something or feeding my ego. If people read my blog, cool. If not, that's cool too.
Also, I explicitly carry a $15 phone so I don't indulge in these junk food distractions.
I'm sure there are *some* interesting people who use it but, like, whatevers. I'd rather walk my dog or stare at the ceiling and think or actually have a conversation with those handful of interesting people.
My opinion on twitter only pertains to me.
Being 'too good' isn't the case here because there's nothing 'good' about twitter.
If you feel ass sorrow over me saying this, then I suggest a.) get over it b.)analyze why you're not completely confident in using twitter
That shit is on you, not me.
Hope everyone who uses twitter still likes me.
Think i lucidly conveyed how I feel about twitter. Were you not paying attention or just too clouded with narcissistic rage to comprehend it.
The application itself has no intrinsic value. It's just a large sandbox with very little sand in it. It provides limited content via real time communication. *big fucking eye roll and a thumbs down*
The content within the application is subjectively boring. I don't watch television, have a moratorium on movies made within the last ten years, have nothing but disdain for celebrity culture and have lived a life that makes organic smoothies and drug references subjectively uninteresting.
There's nothing beneficial to be gained by using twitter. The only possible reason for use is if I wanted to create a 'fan base'. I don't. I'm not trying to manipulate anyone into buying something or feeding my ego. If people read my blog, cool. If not, that's cool too.
Also, I explicitly carry a $15 phone so I don't indulge in these junk food distractions.
I'm sure there are *some* interesting people who use it but, like, whatevers. I'd rather walk my dog or stare at the ceiling and think or actually have a conversation with those handful of interesting people.
My opinion on twitter only pertains to me.
Being 'too good' isn't the case here because there's nothing 'good' about twitter.
If you feel ass sorrow over me saying this, then I suggest a.) get over it b.)analyze why you're not completely confident in using twitter
That shit is on you, not me.
Hope everyone who uses twitter still likes me.
What do you like and hate about yourself?
I don't think of myself in that way, anymore. If you'd asked this a few years ago, I would have answered: nothing/everything.
I've been told numerous times that I'm a 'negative' person. I don't know if I completely agree with that but there is some truth to it. People don't seem to understand/care that a person's personality is based on contributing factors. I'm not a miserable asshole simply because I think people/reality isn't worthwhile or something. I'm like 'this' as a result of being alive.
One day, I came to a psychological cross-road and decided to spend whatever effort was needed to break free from 'hating' myself. After several long years of research, analysis, contemplation and suicidal thoughts, I found an understanding in 'love', something I hadn't previously believed in, at least not as it pertained to myself.
Which lead to unconditional self-acceptance. And that's why I don't have a specific answer for your question.
I do think your word choice is interesting though. Like, you didn't pick polar opposites (love/hate or like/dislike). Seems telling about your personality.
My question is, what's your definition of 'love' and how does it apply to you.
I've been told numerous times that I'm a 'negative' person. I don't know if I completely agree with that but there is some truth to it. People don't seem to understand/care that a person's personality is based on contributing factors. I'm not a miserable asshole simply because I think people/reality isn't worthwhile or something. I'm like 'this' as a result of being alive.
One day, I came to a psychological cross-road and decided to spend whatever effort was needed to break free from 'hating' myself. After several long years of research, analysis, contemplation and suicidal thoughts, I found an understanding in 'love', something I hadn't previously believed in, at least not as it pertained to myself.
Which lead to unconditional self-acceptance. And that's why I don't have a specific answer for your question.
I do think your word choice is interesting though. Like, you didn't pick polar opposites (love/hate or like/dislike). Seems telling about your personality.
My question is, what's your definition of 'love' and how does it apply to you.
Do you drink do drugs on a regular basis? If so, what? how much? how often?
I love drugs.
My personality is comprised of extremes. I go 'hard' with everything. Even abstinence.
When my body mysteriously started to kill itself off, I stopped everything so I could be more receptive to what the symptoms were trying to tell me. Mostly because doctors are fucking worthless shit souls and solely relying on them seems suicidal.
Previously, my drug experience has been heavy opiate use (10years), heavy mdma use, juggernaut-like marijuana use, moderate psychedelic use and heavy tobacco use.
The opiates, at first, were the best thing to happen to me. For once, I was totally isolated from physical, emotional and psychological agony. My (ex)wife talked me into seeing a pain doctor. I thought it was odd since I had been in pain for years and was okay with just 'dealing' with it, but she kept insisting that she hated seeing me struggle through life. I'd later discover that her motivation was to steal the medication from me.
At the peak of use, I'd chew 6-8 80mg oxycontin pills for a single dosage. But, as anyone who's intimate with opiates knows, long term usage doesn't do much other than enslave your body/mind and push people away. I had worked through my internal issues and objectively analyzed the opiates, then just stopped.
I didn't do mdma when I was a teenager, mostly because I was a loner and didn't have any opportunities to try it. But also because ravers back then seemed like pathetic jokes. My use started around age 31, I think. An estimation, but i'd say I did about 200 pills (mostly triple stacked) within a 6 month period. This is back when ecstasy was still the drug of choice, before morons started singing about molly. The best pills were from the 'pokemaster' and had a pokeball stamp on one side then whatever on the other. My favorites were the purple telephones and white ghosts. 99% of this use was at clubs or massives. I don't really like the massives though. The energy is very bullshit. Some nights, I'd hit the club around 1am, close it out at 7am, then go to the after hours for however long my girlfriend would last. Her personality is much different than mine. Which is good.
When I moved to hollywood, there was a medical marijuana/rastafari temple at the end of my street. Like, it was within walking distance. The place was called the liberty bell temple (ii). I considered the people who worked there my family. To detail my usage would take too much effort. But i've smoked at mansion parties, kicked back with musicians, watched weed grow on a hollywood rooftop, smoked more wax than i'd like to admit and missed a dea raid by 10 minutes. I really miss that place. It's also where I got my dog, little dave.
I really enjoy mushrooms. This one dude I met at the liberty bell, a young shaman named poison, had the best golden caps i've ever snarfed. The minimum quantity i'd buy is an ounce. I lost his number when I lost my phone though. He was a genuine dude. I miss him.
My personality is comprised of extremes. I go 'hard' with everything. Even abstinence.
When my body mysteriously started to kill itself off, I stopped everything so I could be more receptive to what the symptoms were trying to tell me. Mostly because doctors are fucking worthless shit souls and solely relying on them seems suicidal.
Previously, my drug experience has been heavy opiate use (10years), heavy mdma use, juggernaut-like marijuana use, moderate psychedelic use and heavy tobacco use.
The opiates, at first, were the best thing to happen to me. For once, I was totally isolated from physical, emotional and psychological agony. My (ex)wife talked me into seeing a pain doctor. I thought it was odd since I had been in pain for years and was okay with just 'dealing' with it, but she kept insisting that she hated seeing me struggle through life. I'd later discover that her motivation was to steal the medication from me.
At the peak of use, I'd chew 6-8 80mg oxycontin pills for a single dosage. But, as anyone who's intimate with opiates knows, long term usage doesn't do much other than enslave your body/mind and push people away. I had worked through my internal issues and objectively analyzed the opiates, then just stopped.
I didn't do mdma when I was a teenager, mostly because I was a loner and didn't have any opportunities to try it. But also because ravers back then seemed like pathetic jokes. My use started around age 31, I think. An estimation, but i'd say I did about 200 pills (mostly triple stacked) within a 6 month period. This is back when ecstasy was still the drug of choice, before morons started singing about molly. The best pills were from the 'pokemaster' and had a pokeball stamp on one side then whatever on the other. My favorites were the purple telephones and white ghosts. 99% of this use was at clubs or massives. I don't really like the massives though. The energy is very bullshit. Some nights, I'd hit the club around 1am, close it out at 7am, then go to the after hours for however long my girlfriend would last. Her personality is much different than mine. Which is good.
When I moved to hollywood, there was a medical marijuana/rastafari temple at the end of my street. Like, it was within walking distance. The place was called the liberty bell temple (ii). I considered the people who worked there my family. To detail my usage would take too much effort. But i've smoked at mansion parties, kicked back with musicians, watched weed grow on a hollywood rooftop, smoked more wax than i'd like to admit and missed a dea raid by 10 minutes. I really miss that place. It's also where I got my dog, little dave.
I really enjoy mushrooms. This one dude I met at the liberty bell, a young shaman named poison, had the best golden caps i've ever snarfed. The minimum quantity i'd buy is an ounce. I lost his number when I lost my phone though. He was a genuine dude. I miss him.
How do you surprise other people?
By being genuine.
what is your idea of based god and its variables: based satan, based jesus, based ooze? if you can riff on that for a bit then great.
I don't really know anything about lil b other than this white boy I love and respect is really into him. Spent 45s once listening to one of his songs.
Feel like trap is the pop country of rap. It's mostly lazy or immature laptop productions. I guess If I was part of the current generation I'd think differently. But i'm not so easily manipulated by aesthetic, or, maybe if the aesthetic wasn't a regurgitation of mtv from twenty years ago, I might be.
Feel like the current generation and a good percentage of my generation are without any appreciation for substance. As long as something is 'cool' and 'convenient' it's accepted.
I like the old shit though, like, Young Jeezy. Otherwise, the music genre is so basic and rife with posturing that i'd rather listen to the audio from a golf tournament.
No fucking clue what based ooze is. Seems greatly beneficial that I don't.
Feel like trap is the pop country of rap. It's mostly lazy or immature laptop productions. I guess If I was part of the current generation I'd think differently. But i'm not so easily manipulated by aesthetic, or, maybe if the aesthetic wasn't a regurgitation of mtv from twenty years ago, I might be.
Feel like the current generation and a good percentage of my generation are without any appreciation for substance. As long as something is 'cool' and 'convenient' it's accepted.
I like the old shit though, like, Young Jeezy. Otherwise, the music genre is so basic and rife with posturing that i'd rather listen to the audio from a golf tournament.
No fucking clue what based ooze is. Seems greatly beneficial that I don't.
how did you meet sam pink then? he seems pretty cool, by which i mean he responds well to shit-talk. (he's not on twitter is he?)
Sam and I come from the same cosmic ashtray. Just kidding, we met during an arranged wedding. His family wanted goats, my family wanted chickens, the rest is love.
It used to be that people who were motivated to write kept blogs. It felt more like a 'community' back then, I think.
I originally followed 3 blogs: tao lin, noah cicero and blake butler.
Noah posted an interview that sam conducted. Remember having mixed feelings about the interview. Some parts were good, other parts I felt like sam was forcing humor. I made a comment conveying this. Think I told him to stop trying so hard.
A day or so later, sam told me to eat shit in so many words, like, it was a sweeping response that alluded not trying hard but if he wanted to, who the fuck was I to say otherwise.
So, basically, our first encounter was us giving each other a 'who is you'.
Daniel Bailey had a cursory blog of videos made by internet poets. When Sam's video posted, remember thinking, 'the energy of this poetry is the closest i've ever felt to how my mind works.'
I used to buy books from internet authors and give them away for free to people who wanted them. I had purchased 5 copies of sam's chapbook that jaguar uprising published, however, those chapbooks didn't go out. Felt very upset about it.
Sam read a comment or three where I called people out for not keeping their word or even refunding the money. Then he emailed me, asked for my address and sent 5 copies he had hand made.
After being encouraged by my long-distance underaged girlfriend, I conducted an 'interview' with sam via email with the purpose to understand him, as a person, because i've always thought the artist is just as important as the art.
Sam was really kind and answered most everything I asked. I think it went on for, like, a month or two.
In 2009, awp was held in chicago. I bought a ticket the night before, arrived without socks and a pocket full of opiates. My social anxiety was at its apex and being around all those people was worse than kissing my mom's asshole while taking a selfie.
I was at the convention for, like, 10 minutes, and had to get the fuck out as soon as possible. People kept stopping me to socialize which exacerbated the feeling of dread. I had almost made it out of the hotel, when someone walked up from behind and asked for money, as if they were a homeless person. I had just given some dude around $40 and didn't have any more change, so, without looking away from my feet, I apologized and said I had none.
I could feel the guy behind me, like, he didn't budge at all, and I started going in 'the vision' (at the time i didn't like anyone touching me or being in close proximity). My girlfriend said something but I didn't process it. I turned around, almost hostile, and saw sam pink's shithead grin and taxi driver mohawk, then immediately realized it was him.
After that we shit talked writers with pony tails and laughed, then left together.
It used to be that people who were motivated to write kept blogs. It felt more like a 'community' back then, I think.
I originally followed 3 blogs: tao lin, noah cicero and blake butler.
Noah posted an interview that sam conducted. Remember having mixed feelings about the interview. Some parts were good, other parts I felt like sam was forcing humor. I made a comment conveying this. Think I told him to stop trying so hard.
A day or so later, sam told me to eat shit in so many words, like, it was a sweeping response that alluded not trying hard but if he wanted to, who the fuck was I to say otherwise.
So, basically, our first encounter was us giving each other a 'who is you'.
Daniel Bailey had a cursory blog of videos made by internet poets. When Sam's video posted, remember thinking, 'the energy of this poetry is the closest i've ever felt to how my mind works.'
I used to buy books from internet authors and give them away for free to people who wanted them. I had purchased 5 copies of sam's chapbook that jaguar uprising published, however, those chapbooks didn't go out. Felt very upset about it.
Sam read a comment or three where I called people out for not keeping their word or even refunding the money. Then he emailed me, asked for my address and sent 5 copies he had hand made.
After being encouraged by my long-distance underaged girlfriend, I conducted an 'interview' with sam via email with the purpose to understand him, as a person, because i've always thought the artist is just as important as the art.
Sam was really kind and answered most everything I asked. I think it went on for, like, a month or two.
In 2009, awp was held in chicago. I bought a ticket the night before, arrived without socks and a pocket full of opiates. My social anxiety was at its apex and being around all those people was worse than kissing my mom's asshole while taking a selfie.
I was at the convention for, like, 10 minutes, and had to get the fuck out as soon as possible. People kept stopping me to socialize which exacerbated the feeling of dread. I had almost made it out of the hotel, when someone walked up from behind and asked for money, as if they were a homeless person. I had just given some dude around $40 and didn't have any more change, so, without looking away from my feet, I apologized and said I had none.
I could feel the guy behind me, like, he didn't budge at all, and I started going in 'the vision' (at the time i didn't like anyone touching me or being in close proximity). My girlfriend said something but I didn't process it. I turned around, almost hostile, and saw sam pink's shithead grin and taxi driver mohawk, then immediately realized it was him.
After that we shit talked writers with pony tails and laughed, then left together.
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