happy turkey neck!

gobble gobble

exit stage left.

Fuckin’ trippy shit!

I had a dream last night, well, this morning (11/9) just before I opened my eyes. Not to go into too much detail but, there was a lunar eclipse, the earth was struck by a meteor, there was a mushroom cloud, the earth was burning and the end was near.

"the basilisk" was the soundtrack.

“the basilisk” is a song written and performed by a band named fistula. I’m a fan of fistula… thing is I haven’t listened to them in months.

now this is fucked up on many levels. I rarely dream and when I do, I vaguely remember. This dream, I remember with vivid detail.

Here’s the trippy part. When I get home I check my email, swing by sg then log on to myspace and I have a friend request from a guy named Bahb. I never get friend requests from people I don’t know. Who the fuck is Bahb and why does he want to be my friend? Well, Bahb is the lead singer/bassist of fistula and wrote “The basilisk”.

He found my page this afternoon (11/9), noticed I had fistula listed in the interests section and sent the friend request.

Fucked up or what?!

remove the head or destroy the brain.

leaving for new jersey early a.m., have a roofing job. its gonna be windy, might need a harness.

see ya in a couple of days.

hey kids! im alive, just busy.

just finished the biggest job of the year. filled and graded over 20,000 sq ft...then spread/installed over 300,000 lbs of topsoil and hydroseeded.

oh yeah, to give you an idea of how much 300,000 lbs is...

50 hummers



or 600 harley davidson sportsters



this is why i need an aspirin and a nap.

My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a 15 year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink, he would make outrageous claims, like he invented the question mark. Sometimes, he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy - the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring, we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent, I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds. Pretty standard, really...

funny shit.

lost another employee. drug trafficking. hes in the gang unit, 22 hour lockdown. hes a blood.

whats with kids these days? wtf.

fargon back hurts! i smell like diesel fuel and dirt. hungry too!

whats cookin?

and a random pic for ya.



i typed in "random picture" on yahoo, clicked image, and voila. hmmf. whos it look like to you?

i think drew barrymore.