Symbolic Stuff Nobody Gives a Crap About

Hanley is my Manley P Hall. :sweet: :p

If you build it, he will come, man! Oscar is the wild pitches! Don't nail our PWEEEEEEEEEEE please!!!!!! :D



Field of Madres. ;)
 
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I always quietly go to shows and games and zen out. The last two shows there was a huge presence, like a "Two can play at this game lady" in the air. The first was Calexico. The girl next to me wouldn't SHUT. THE. f***. UP. Before the show yammering on about moving to San Diego and living here and living there and where she travels and what shows she's seen what she usually wears to concerts and "That's just the way I am!" comments about how cool she was and on and on and on. THen when the concert started in between every song she'd ask me, like a test, if I was aware of the title of the song. I'd say "I'm just trying to enjoy the show." and she'd say "That was such and such..." Are you joking me? So I told her I was going to the bathroom and played move-around-in-the-back-and-try-not-make-eye-contact-with-the-zombie-girl the rest of the show. Then last night the guy on one side of me wouldn't SHUT. THE. f***. UP. Now there's a lot of cheering at a game, especially a crucial game and cheering is amazing and encouraged. It's hard to find a distracting douche at an amped up ball game, but this guy managed to be one. He decided he was going to call the game for a "podcast" and proceeded to sit there for nine innings pretending to be Vin Scully. It was a nightmare. I had Vin in my headphones and would listen to Vin then stop and listen to this guy who ALSO had Vin in a different ear and was f***ING COPYING HIM! Even his voice mannerisms. Then when Vin took his break in the middle of the game and the others guys come on, Podcast guy adopted this old-timey 30's gangster voice that was unbelievable. And it was for NOBODY! I asked him if he was live loading it and how many followers he had, he said he didn't know and wasn't going to upload it til later if he got around to it, so it technically wasn't even a podcast! He was just recording himself sounding like a Vin Scully impersonator reading stats! I tried so hard to ignore it. What I couldn't ignore was was the people around me getting pissed at the guy telling him to shut up. In the eighth it was tense times and I started to hear the tension in Vin's voice too which was some weird surreal feedback, so I turned off listening to the calls and switched to my ipod and zenned out to this:



Crack...:cool:
 
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The man with the Christians who helped him move in is named Yoni.

A "dick" is a lingam. Morrissey's the male counterpart to the flurry of activity regarding sacred space unity or whatever. *moan*

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lingam

Ta dum CHA! Shit to gold, people! I didn't even have to stay up all night for that one. :p
 
I think I just scared the f*** out of a homeless man. :D

I had a mind baby! His face! f***.
 
To the person/people so bothered that I post so often to solo, an explanation.

For eleven years I worked 40 hours a week at a bookstore. Learn to love your job, right? So every day I'd go to work, open boxes and put books in the sections they belonged in. I was a shelver for more of those years than any other position I held and I loved it. Organizing, order, consistency.

So since leaving retail I housesat for a number of years and now manage apartments. I stay at home and keep myself busy doing lots of things. But there's always something missing. Catagorizing. You know that scene in Amelie when she's looking for the address of Brotodeau and goes to her old landlord and he's punching holes in his wife's laurel becuase he used to be a ticket taker for the subway? That's what I do at solo. I shelve books. I'll find something clever or applicable on facebook or in the news and I'll file it in this strange little Morrissey-themed bookstore. THen there's my part-time gig of thinking outside the box in this thread. Twenty-three-thousand posts later, that's basically it. :straightface:

If Morrissey wanted to put his penis in my vagina I wouldn't say no. :p
 
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Morrissey's in weden. The burning question is...is he the groom or the bride?
 
Testing, testing, 1...2...3...

f*** you, sans N. :angry:

Double birds for your worn out birds.
 
My mind babies were so organized, I had a system, it all figured out. It's not working. :mad: Everytime I f***ing throw down someone calls or knocks on the door or texts or my mind baby works for the wrong side. I'm beyond frustrated. And there's this lingering thought that some old sore loser isn't giving me a chance to show because he's BORED BEYOND BELIEF. It's like if whatshisname tripped Eliza Doolittle on her way down the stairs for fun. What's the f***ing point?

"You can come back, kiddo, it'll be great!" f*** you. Please just one more hurdle for the blind f***ing horse.

Who doesn;t root for their own team? LA made your career. LA is your home. I'd point to the f***ing beebee in my hand but it;s a scar above my temple, STILL not enough. [/endrant]
 
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This guy that just applied kept repeating himself. I think he must've told me, not exaggerating, that his kids go to school around the corner SEVEN TIMES!!! Maybe more including over the phone. I think I'm getting a taste of "I love your work/You saved my life." :D
 
Of course. It's 3 to 1 now. Just like Doc Martin ordered, you could hear it the whole game, Scully gives you bastards away.

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My lemniscate today. Doesn't matter.

wirthmagician.jpg
 
This person has to stop enabling for the purpose of playing the great game. It's cruel.


So as always, the race was won...By someone with long legs? Intriguing...(strokes chin).
 
My former mentor/captor's thoughts on all this:

I'm wondering if you're alive. You haven't answered much email lately. A big brouhaha in England (and Sweden) today. It's Thursday. Morrissey's big loves have been men. No women mentioned. And no real surprise it seems. Morrissey did stuff. In fact, he's been doing stuff for years and has now written about it. I've read a half dozen news reports containing nothing that strikes me as the least bit significant. I'm blaming myself, in part. I don't circulate in the right circles to know what is or is not important in pop culture. One of the rules, I think, is that nine tenths of that culture (as reported) is not true. So, how could anyone know what to value and what to reject? How could one separate the stories one from another if, at base, they're just entertainment? Of course, you would explain to me that it's not just entertainment, it's a secret dimension, a communication to initiates, but one must have eyes and ears to see and hear such things, and I obviously don't, not in this realm anyway. So there it is. There must be easier things to figure. But I have always tried to be respectful of your interests and your beliefs, no matter how I seem or what you believe. The book looks wonderful, I think. I've always loved the look and feel of Penguins. You know, when I was young they could not be sold in the United States. Booksellers who snuck them in had to pretend they were used. I bought a number of used Penguins that had never been read. Anyone's shelf with Penguins on it was the shelf of someone in the know, or so we convinced ourselves. That said, the Guardian has come up with fifteen alternatives for today's wonderful cover.

http://www.theguardian.com/music/ga...eys-autobiography-15-alternative-front-covers

You don't have to answer, but I would like to know that you're holding up under all this stress.

Your sometimes enemy and occasional friend,

Evan

--------

He never achieved a level of gnostic understanding to consider that truth is hidden EVERYWHERE. I generally don't share private emails, I don't have a choice really as it seems only the ether is listening. :o
 
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Reading the snippets reminds me of weird memories. My dad ran track in high school, he was quite good at cross country but did the track events as well. When I started to show an interest in running before my heart defect turned up regularly, I tried out for Junior High track in Tustin. He took me down to Big 5 to get cleats and bought me a pair that were on sale. Problem was they fit for about three weeks because I was growing like a weed and they were slightly too small, then they were too tight and it hurt to run in them, so I quit track. :o I loved hurdles and long jump. During the 1984 Olympics I pretended I was a long jumper in the dirt driveway all summer. I was so scuffed up. :p
 
In giant head?
 
9 is nine or NEIN in German. Nein means NO or know or Gnow. I'm a gnostic junkie. :o

gnosticism.jpg


In gematria 9 is I, a reference to the all seeing eye, but in Bird I tend to take it as a key to "know." If you hear 9 in a sentence, you can pluck it out to mean "know." The other day something was 79 something or another. SEVENTEE NEIN is "Steven knows" blah, blah, blah...

I could talk about this boring Bird semantics tips for hours. :p I won't though.

Nico talks about a gown in All Tomorrow's Parties, it's GNOW, or what piece of knowledge will she tap into...
 
Steve's a toking gnostic junkie. I'd have more fun with it if I didn't sense an intense imbalance in areas of life. I'm doing way better today, but me making $20 a day picking up other people's animal's shit and feeding them didn't sit right, it was like I was chasing other people's mind babies instead of tending to my own. Our own.

So maybe he made me a gnostic junkie, which isn't a bad thing. Comes in handy with the ghosts, always keeping your ears peeled for five conversations at once.
 
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