Tuesday, November 2, 2010

A Pact with HoneyBear




01. There are very deserving, warm, and amazing people who have touched our lives.

02. You can not always judge someone from initial guesses, but first impressions can sour you. This does not mean they are outright shitty people.

03. These feelings of brotherhood, sisterhood,companionship, and friendship, as much as we know of them and considering the faults with these feelings and the faults between people, are worthwhile investments.

04. We can not be without the formerly mentioned.

05. If something bothers you, you will make it known.

06. You have the right to feel discontent with life in what ever state it may be, but you do not have the right to wallow in it.

07. You have the right to swallow it all up and hold it together and you are not obliged to share the pain, if only if you are aware of the consequences.

08. When one person is depressed it spread. Being upset is inevitable, but it should not affect others.

09. We will not allow ourselves to be demoralizing to those around us and ourselves.

10. We shall improve ourselves, to benefit ourselves.
a. With regard and respect to our loved ones.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

"Them"

They walk in twisted reality made of laughter, smiles, and grins.
The wind chimes softly in the background of every moment,
The sun shines a soft light on to every surface,
And at night the stars and the moon hum softly a melody of nothing.

They are unremarkable
They are unnoticeable
They are common place and mundane.
They are walking with emptiness.

And they have a need.
A most desperate need.
The desire everything.
They desire to drink the world.

And so as they drink,
It becomes twisted
And they inebriated with lust
And the violate themselves
And sodomize their existence
And find pleasure in breaking


And then they drink more
And the ground rots
And the walls burn
And they drink and drink until the world seeps from their mouths and spills over the ground
And ground of their world disappears
And the chiming in the wind stops
And the night no longer hum, but rather wails.

It's a savage thirst that goes unnoticed by no one.
They just pretend.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

A bad day indeed

It was a bad day.

This morning I called my sperm donor of a father to confirm that I would see him in the afternoon to pick up money for textbooks. I was then told I am a worthless, lazy, waste of space leech that only serves to siphon money from is pocket.He forgot to mention I was also his son.

A nice serving of reality-my-dad-father-is-a-douche with my cereal.

In the early part of the afternoon I was informed that my financial aid would maybe arrive on the 8th, but it was not likely. The woman was older, greying and had tremors. She also was more interested in trying find her pen than explaining to me what was happening to my fin-aid. I left before she found her pen.

During my last class of the day, my professor assigned quite a lot of reading, which I can't do. So I waited after class to ask him if the library had a copy of the textbok I could borrow for an hour ( had done this for my Japanese class, the books have to be authorized for use by the professor.) At which point the very white man turned a shade of very dark red, much like a tomato but not quite, and proceeded to inform me that it was my fault for not buying the book a month ago when he sent out an email. When I told him I had no money or fin-aid to speak of, I was Indirectly informed it was my fault for being poor. He kept referring back to the email he sent as if it would somehow change something about my inability to purchase a textbook. Maybe if Steve Jobs had said it...


I think be fine, regardless of what happens. I'm going out to look for a job on Friday and Saturday. I can borrow the textbooks from classmates. I can buy e-book chapters I need. I started again jogging to relieve my stress.



I'm going to be fine, if I ever wake up from this fucking twisted nightmare.

Greatness

I want to be great.
I want to make them shut up.
I want to drown their voices out with success.
I want to mute the judgmental world with my greatness.
I want to be me with out a care to what might be said of my actions.

But Is Actually Are
Wanting So Achieving Falling
To Much Greatness Backward
Be Different When Into
Great From You Something
Made
Of
Dispair
Doubt
Misery
Anger
Frustration
Rage
Ire

I can only hope hit the surface that I don't go splat,
I can only hope that when I hit the surface I dont shatter into helpless shards,
I can only hope I won't fall beneath the surface and slowly drown,
All I know is that I will not die.


Tuesday, September 28, 2010

What is it?

It is a shattering window in the morning
It is a nearly burnt-out light bulb
It is a the dim light of of the sun
It is the brightness of the night sky


It is a wall of ear shattering silence
It is a burning forest that screams
It is a rose bud that whispers
It is the mute man singing


It is a leisurely stroll past the piles of forgotten hopes
It is a delicate waltz upon the broken aspirations
It is a simple walk down the halls of glorified memories
It is the nothing like unyielding stance I take.

Friday, September 10, 2010

Into the sky I fall

Dancing and twirling
The voice of strangers flooding the air
Clouds of thought floating
Sweet merriment, it tears.

Truth rains unto the masses
Countless umbrellas open in place
Under the woven ignorance
The layman creeps.

Through the curtains the sun seeps
Out of bed I slowly crawl
A rush of dancing a twirling greets
And into the sky I fall.

Saturday, August 28, 2010

A Rather Insignificant Exchange

I moved a total of 12 times. Two of those times I moved states. the rest I moved within the Los Angeles County. I never made friends, and when ever I close to becoming more than an acquaintance, I moved. By the time I was 10, I was used to not having friends and I had stopped crying when I was picked on. I was used the strangeness of being in an unknown place. I was used to being out of place.

When my mother decided we were moving to Lincoln Heights, I already knew what to pack first and what to pack last. As for school, I didn't say good-bye to any one. In fact, I didn't tell anyone I was leaving. When someone saw me loading the truck on our moving day, they call out my name. When my mother asked me if that was my friend, I told her I had no idea who that person was. At the time I did know who they were; they were nice. I can't even remember their face now. I'd later wish I had said good bye such nice person.

When I started school halfway through the seconded semester of sixth grade, I didn't expect to be confronted with hostility.

Every time I moved to a new school, I was out casted. No one talked to me, and I didn't expect anyone to talk to me. Those who tried to pick on me learned quickly that I had a biting tongue, but oddly enough I didn't curse. However I had never been the subject of torment brought on by an entire class; it was those who acted and those who enjoyed the act.

I resented a lot of people but never acted upon those feelings. Regardless of what happened to me, I didn't act back. I didn't complain. I just weathered through it. When out fairly large 6th grade Englisher teacher spoke out on my behalf and accused the class of willfully malicious acts against my person, I was surprised. I had never said anything, never pointed fingers, and never said any names. I have to admit I was touched by her acted, but I had wished she had said nothing. The following day I learned that their were more actors acting and less watching the act.

Through out this whole ordeal I was never bitter. Maybe because I was told never to hold grudges. or maybe because I really wanted to be liked by those around me. So laughed and smiled. To this day I still smile when ever something goes wrong.

The following two years of middle school grew to be even more unbearable. Academically, I fell behind as I began to read compulsively. Since I had never needed help, I refused to seek any. I regret that.

So the ill and woes of school mounted on me, I found refuge at the computer lab. At first it was a way for me to read in peace (when I moved to the school I was horrified when I found out that the library was not open during lunch) and later it became a place where I, if only marginally, fit in.

My interest in computers grew over night, to the point where I began writing code on my computer at home. I crashed it and had to format the hard-drive. I never attempted to write code after that. learned quickly the basics of computing was given the task of teaching students who were computer illiterate. I spent all my time there, forgoing lunch and nutrition. Honestly, I never minded.

When the high school students came to inter with us, I found people to look up to. Sara was sweet and kind. She was also very pretty, but plagued by acne. Although after a few days I never really noticed again. It's not that her acne disappeared one day, it was just that she was the kind of person who projected her emotions, I found that fascinating. The other high school student was Henry. He was obnoxious, loud, friendly and everyone liked him, but me. In retrospect, I suppose I liked him so much I disliked him. Which is to say I wanted to be like him.

I met a lot of people in my time art the computer. Most of them were students who grew to resent me for having "privileges". Others were people with whom I interacted. In my last year there I met a girl with a broken leg and her friend who on many an occasion, nearly broke my leg. They were nice people, for the most part.

At some point, I met a lanky, flat-nosed, Asian boy who I didn't really notice. In the following four years he would grow to be my closest confidant. Through him I met more people who I would grow to cherish… and some I would grow to loath.

I didn't become a social butterfly. I don't think that will ever happen. what he did do is help me become more open and expressive. I became loads and obnoxious. I began speaking my mind. I also began cursing, courtesy of a small, cute Asian girl with the dirtiest mouth I've ever seen.

Throughout everything that happened, a few things were worth the toil. My days at the computer lab being one. The other was a rather insignificant exchange between that lanky, flat-nosed Asian boy and myself.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Dear mother,

Go fuck yourself.

Your loving son.

Monday, June 28, 2010

Jack

Hi, I'm Jack.

I'm 26 and a starving artist.

One day I was hit by life.

No seriously. I was crossing the street in colorful Flower District of Downtown Los Angeles when a woman named Life drove her burgundy Honda Civic into me as I tried to shoo away a bee.

After Life hit me, was rushed to the hospital in a bright red ambulance with a shiny white interior and a man dressed in dark muted blue told me that I was going to be alright. The man seemed very tired; he had dark purple rings under his eyes. I wondered what was keeping the man from resting. As he shut the door I caught a glimpse of Life's green skirt and the bee buzzing around it.

I dumped on a gurney and rolled into the hospital. Light blue walls and dusty lighting fixtures flew by me. I was pushed into a small room with green tiles on the walls. There were white blinds on the windows. Nurses and doctors rushed in saying numbers and reporting wounds. It was rather noisy. A fly flew into the room.

Nurses in pink uniforms rush all over the place; every thing was blurry so they seemed like one giant pink blob. I heard a doctor say something about broken legs. An other doctor in a white coat came over and was asking me questions while waving a bright light over my eyes. I made an attempt to answer what seemed like pointless questions, that is until I saw blood splatter on to the white coat of the doctor overhead.

I followed the blood as it spread into the fabric of the coat. I noticed that the room didn't seem as noisy as before. In fact everything seemed to get dull. What had been bright red blood on the coat, now seemed gray.

As the dark closed in, I noticed the fly leave the room.

I came to some time later. I was covered in bandages and had a cast on my right leg. Nurses walked in and took notes on a binder and really didn't pay much attention to me. It's not like I felt talkative anyway.

At some point Life more-or-less paid me a visit. All she really did was stand in the door way and not say a word. The first day she came over she wore a dark purple sweater and pulled it close to her body the entire time. The second day she had a blue skirt with a white trim; she was as silent as ever.The third day she didn't bother standing at the door. She instead sat on a red chair in the hall, across from my door. On the forth day I pretended I was having a staring contest with her as she sat silently. I was winning until a fly landed on her red-orange hair and I blinked.

Life stopped showing up at her spot a few days later. I asked the nurse's if they had seen her. One of them told me she would sit in the waiting room for an hour and leave. Another told me she had spotted her on a brown bench outside the hospital. One of the interns told me he had seen her in the cafe across the street.

I did eventually find out what she might have wanted to say.

She didn't mean to drive her car at 35 miles per hour into my body and she's very sorry to have caused me trouble, or so I was told by her lawyer a couple of days after she was last spotted. He wore a gray suit with an off-white shirt and a charcoal tie with a a geometric design and black shoes and an absolutely depressing demeanor on his face. I think he was trying to match his graying hair and black, soulless eyes. A fly flew near his head.

He didn't say much after the break down of the events, not that I listened. I couldn't help but find the light peach wall behind him so much more interesting. I could have sworn the wall was more interested than I was.

Somewhere between the time he began speaking and stopped a large, black spider made it's was across the wall. It's mere presence seemed to mar the pretty wall.

I made an effort to turn my attention to the bland man in front of me. It was a futile attempt. Luckily he had stopped talking and pulled out a large envelope the color of muddy yellow.

He handed it to me. I made the motion to reach for it.

I never actually reached the envelope, much less get a chance to see what was inside.

I felt a pain all over my body. I looked up and saw the spider catch the fly.

I thought: Stupid fly.

It got noisy really quickly and then it went dead silent.

UD

Urban Dictionary Rules:

—Go to urbandictionary.com and type in your answers to the following questions.
—Post a definition it gives you.

1. Your name: Brian

A highly intelligent guy who is handsome, funny, sexy, a great kisser, and is hung like a horse. Basically the TOTAL PACKAGE! A guy that every woman wants to be with, but only the hot ones get the privilege of having him.top. but a person who doesn't get mad easily so you dont have to worry about that.

2. Your age? 18

The age where an American can: 1. Legally buy pornography 2. Legally buy cigarettes 3. Legally gamble in Indian Casinos 4. Legally be considered an adult 5. Be tried as an adult in a court of law 6. Be drafted for a war they don’t believe in … but still cannot buy alcohol.

3. One of your friends? Andy

A very tall typically male being.
Often has giant hair and large feet.
May be talented at things such as drumming and shaking bananas.
An Andy may be extremely random and like to create his own language.

4. What should you be doing? Working Out

The act of lifting metal to damage your muscles so they will grow in bigger size so ladies can eat them.

5. Favorite color? Red

A color of passion. Crimson red, blood red, carnation red, cherry red, fire red, rose red.

6. Birthplace? Los Angeles
An amazing city that is resented by people in most other parts of the country for assorted reasons. Supposedly, we’re all liberal, weed-smoking, anorexic gangsters who drive around in SUVs with a Starbucks fat-free latte permanently grasped between our manicured fingers and dream of making it big in Hollywood one day. And the future language is Spanish.

7. Month of your birth? December

An excellent time of year where the snow is beautiful, the weather is cold, and the closer you get to the end of the month the more your birthday sucks.

If your birthday is very close to Christmas, it is okay to hate your birthday.

8. Last person you talked to? Andy

The most beautiful girl in the world. Blue eyes and Brown Hair. Nicer then nice would do anything for you. Has a contagious personality, you can't help but smile when around her. She will make you laugh. But get on her bad side and she will rip you a new one.

9. One of your nicknames? Bri Bri

A very annoying and insulting nickname for anyone named Brian.

Friday, June 18, 2010

Creeping

The longer I sit in a room of people being recognized for their achievements, this feeling of utter incompentance grows.

Without a doubt, I am feeling rather snide and bitter.


- BB


Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Bottled

I did something today.
I made today different.
'I moved the furniture,' I say.
I pushed that heavy bed to vent.

Streaked across my tile floor
Wet drops of much fervor
Made sliding the desk up to the door
I little less of a chore.

I did something today.
I made it different.
Even though like a child I wanted to flay,
I sucked it up and with a smile I said the opposite of what I meant.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Drie

Did you know I laugh compulsively?
That I can't stop a single smirk, or smile from surfacing?
That my smiles split my face painfully wide?

I think I said it...
Perhaps I mumbled it...
Or meant to say it...

Did you know I once cried daily?
That I was easily hurt?
And that one day I just woke up not knowing how to cry?

I've though about that day a lot.
Silently musing and biding my time,
Waiting for the morning I wake up, unable to smile.

Monday, April 19, 2010

From the Chans

Unlikely it is
When first time or e'er to have
Fantasy porn sex

-Anon


[I found on a Chan board and I thought it was awesome]

Saturday, April 17, 2010

El Techo - The Ceiling

Me dicen que debo de ser mejor
Que debo de ser mas
Debo de ser humano
Ser hombre.

Sucede que me canco de ser hombre
Me canso de ser el que vas mas aya
El que sube pasando lo que no debo ser

Solo puedo subir tanto antes que tope con el Techo.

----

I'm told that I should be better
That I should be more
I should be human
Be a man.

It would happen to be that I tire of being a man.
I tire of being the one that goes beyond
The one rises above what I should not be.

I can only rise so much before I hit the ceiling




I decided anything I write in Spanish I'm going to translate because I've been thinking in Spanish more often than not.

Dire

Los acontecimeintos me rechazan.

Los hechos me cazan.

Sucede que me canso de ser hombre

En una exsistencia fria,
sombria.
Una exsistencia que no es mia.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Aye

I stand in the center of coincidence .
I am the epitome of chance.
I exist as pair of ill-fated dice.

We deal with men and mice.
Most of the time we choose not to slice,
Because just letting it go will suffice.

Unfortunately now I sit on a pillar of ice,
My feet dangling in the air heavy with spice.
The taste of recent happenings have been anything but nice.
My very self, my only self has suffered a splice-

Di-ced-
Ser-ved wit-h rice-
Sweet smells only en-ti-ce
The W-e without ey-es

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Later

There is a Post-it on my desk.
It's been sitting there for quite some time now.

I can't throw it away.
I can't remove it.
I can't hide it behind a book.
I can't lose it.

Better said,
I won't do any of the mentioned.

I want to burn it.
Tear it in half.
Shred the vile sight.

That yellow slip must go
Before I begin to Tear.

There is a Post-it on my desk.
It's not staying there for long.

Saturday, February 27, 2010

iam

iamapersonwhowrites
iamapersonwhosleeps
iamapersonthatfights
iamapersonwhosright

iamaperson who's dead.

Iam a person who was.

I am a-

I was a person who I respected.

I'm Racist

It's Fact.
My words,
I'm not taking them back.

"You're sick,"
"You're twisted,"
"You crazy Spic."

I am crazy.
I am twisted.
My mind is a frenzy.

"Your kind,"
"They're all the same"
"Hating whatever they can find."

Yes, I'm the best kind of racist
That one kind that is blind, deaf and mute.
I;s that one kind that hypocrites can't resist.

Monday, February 22, 2010

Abrasame

Your gaze upon my skin,
Tearing at my flesh,
I can't stand it.
I can't take it.

No mires.
No veas.
En este momento,
No estoy aquí.



You idiot.
You moron.
You unrelenting bastard.
You looked, didn't you?

¿Cual es la razón?
¿El motivo
Por esta indiscreción?
¿Que era tu objetivo?

¿Dañarme?
Consume me?
¿Engañarme?
Sear my body to black?

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Dolls

What are Dolls?
"They are human shaped,
Items which hold a likeness to ourselves."


What are Dolls for?
"They are playthings of children,
Items which hold not concept of "humanity."


What are Children?
"They are human shaped,
They are beings that hold a likeness to ourselves."


What are Children for?
"They know not of humanity,
They have not concept of morals.

Human, but not quite human,
These eerie shells of a human likeness
We make."


What for?



"To play God"

Come again?

I Dislike You.
I Dislike You.
I dis like you
i dis like you
idis like you
idislike you
idislikeyou
idislikeyou,

I like you.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Roses are red.

Wounds make you bleed
Hypothermia makes you blue.

If your love was killing me,
I'd rather kill you.

No more of this.
None of that.

I'll push you off the edge
Then wait for you to go splat.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Fire and Brimstone

I hate Pickles.

I hate your Pickles. So know I will not eat your Pickles or anyone's Pickles.

I hate Pickles.
I really hate Pickles.

I don't care that you like Pickles. I don't mind when You eat Pickles. But don't try to feed me Pickles because I won't eat Pickles. I would much rather die than eat Pickles.

By the way, 'Shit' is a bad word.

A Stupid Child

Growing up I believed I had a ticker in my heart,
With Hands that moved around and around
With Hands that went in circles,
With Hands that wouldn't
Stop.

Until one day the hands on my ticker broke.
Time kept moving around me
Making circles much like
My Hands had done.

Now I know better
I am not longer that stupid child
Thinking's hands moved in circles as he ran in them too.

I'm an adult now.
I have circles much bigger than I had before.

I'm an adult now and I'm terribly frightened.
In my much larger circles, in the dead of the night I heard a ticking, a whirling, spinning noise.

In the dead of the night I felt my chest tick and tock for only a brief moment, but that's all it took.

I'm
Scared.
That
Ticker
Who's
Hands
Broke,
Who
Flatlined,
Just ticked in the dead of the night.

I'm fucked

Friday, February 5, 2010

Brief

-

I had always wanted a mirror of my own.
But never got around to buying one.

Can't really practice smiling without

One.

--

I looked into the reflection.

Really just glanced.

Hadn't really bothered
Thinking of the consequences.

From the other side peered
A wrinkly,
Weather beaten Old Man
But just at death's doorstep.

His face contorted,
Strained with effort,
He gave me the most pathetic smile.

I looked back.
The reflection was gone.

I took the mirror and tossed it
without even a second glance.

---

From a shard next to the bin,
A toothless grin
Smiled a the sky,
As the garbage man passed on by.

----

I had always wanted a mirror of my own.
Now I'm terrified of what I'm shown.




Sunday, January 31, 2010

No your Face.

BB: Excuse me, do you know where the trash bags are?

TargetLady: No. Why don't you go bother someone else you stupid vagina face!

BB: Ok..... thanks.

TargeLady: ( to older man ) THE HELL YOU LOOKING AT? ARE YOU FINALLY GETTING A STIFFY AFTER YEARS OF A DROUGHT?


---
She really needs to find a job where she's happy.

In Egypt

A river flows
Between the sand dunes
And the sky.

In that scorched land,
Hugged by the blazing embrace of the sun,
A river flows.

The life bringing water
Quenches the thirst for stability
And those who merely sip, drown.

A river flows onto the sea,
Into the clouds,
Down onto asphalt.

Our lives are sprinkled
With the waters of a distant land
and with out notice we move on.

We all need this rain,
We all need to feel it,
We all need know it.

What would our lives be without
the waters of that river,
Without the waters of Denial.




Saturday, January 30, 2010

Brush Strokes

Splish
Splash

Drip
Drop

The paint falls
The paint spills

Red
Very Red

Splitter
Splatter

The Red stains
The Red marks

Red
So Red
Everything seems so Red



It's sickening

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Just Nau

Just right now I got this call from an automatic machine-thingy. The message was in Spanish. Well more like really bad fragments of someones voice staple together in an effort to sell something, I think. Is that what hey were trying to do?


---
Moosheen: You won thousand! Yes, you happy? Be are should!

BB: ....

Moosheen: You squeeze 'one,' yes?

BB: No

Moosheen: YOUR CALL IS BEING TRANSFERRED

BB: *hangs up*

The phone rang again

BB: 'Allo?

Moosheen: Why call on floor? Wool no want?

BB: *unplugs phone*

Vloging

I meant to start Vloging..... about 28 days ago.

I swear I will get on it after competition.


-BB










Maybe >.>

Hey there, do I know you?

Most of the time I hate when people do that. I can't place a face and a name together making me feel stupid.

So I resorted to many different tricks in order to find out their names:

  1. Ask them for them to add you on Face Book.
  2. Continue talking to them, then ask someone else what their name is.
  3. Try to see if the put their name on notebooks or papers.
  4. Ask then to add themselves on your phone.
  5. If the the class takes roll, pay attention and wait to see when they respond.

If all else fails, risk looking like a big-fat-jerk and ask them what their name is.

Bad Romantics

Horror, Terror and Awe
How sub-line you are.

To measure you,
Infantile mind and all that your are,
Would require for me to do something I deplore.

But 'tis is something I must do;
Such action will take me far
As to sit on your filthy floor.

I will say this once,
Perhaps twice
But not thrice.

Between the sheets,

Vigor is elsewhere.

Passion,
An unknown friend.

Selfishness,
Only an acquaintance at most.

Desire,
We've never met.

Fulfillment...


I dare not go one.
For what lacks is already known.

Monday, January 18, 2010