Breakfast in Bed

this was a non-traditional breakfast. i read about it in a free magazine. I think they used "non-traditional," to help avoid any intimidation or fear caused by such a strong statement like, "a vegan breakfast." a wild and sexy affair where feasting vegans become insanely obese overnight. i first observed all types of spiffy looking 20 somethings. then i spotted, without a doubt, 8 crusty looking 30 year olds. but who's counting? we were all lined up outside. all of us waiting to get some gluten free items and to try their expansive selection of soy based breakfast entrees. it was so classy. i rubbed and caressed the red velvet rope that stretched the whole block leading up to the door.  i arrived at the secret location downtown at 6:59:59, cold and tired from the 27 mile bike ride. i hate riding bikes and i don't have a working vehicle. so i commuted via bicycle.  i was aware of the dress code, so i dressed accordingly. but the ruler the doorman was using to measure with, had to have been a fake. i know my high heels! just as well as i know the hairs and 3 moles located on my ball sac. not my heels, not my pubic hairs and no mole on me is longer than six inches. it was really hard dealing with the fact that i was turned away. it's not like i received a fucking invitation, in all caps, addressed to me! they made my un-welcoming party even more fun when they sprayed me with a garden hose, with the nozzle head rotated one quarter of a turn to the 'power jet' setting. so now i was dripping wet, soaked, embarrassed, standing there like id been humiliated in front of the whole jr high school lunch room. Then it dawned on me, i road my dads road bike, the huffy "meat eater." painted and stickered with well designed, eye catching decals, that read MEAT EATER. It was so visually captivating i'm sure it was arranged and designed by a young typographer-type with real potential. they took my bike from me and yelled in my face.  i tried mustering up an explanation or defense. but i couldn't speak, my mouth was paralyzed so no words were entering the air. i couldn't make a sound. i handed them my wet and ruined i-phone, 5geez or 6geez of nothingness and started walking to the bus station. i thought wow, fuck my life! then the next thing i know, i was sitting upright in my bed at my house 27 miles outside of the city. starving, i walked into the kitchen poured the last of the popov into the highland orange juice jug and cooked a pound of bacon(hormel) and a pound of sausage(jimmy dean). and split everything right down the middle, piece for piece with my italian greyhound

Hulkshare.com Lil Wayne - Sorry 4 The Wait (WeezyThanxYou.com).zip

Hulkshare.com Lil Wayne - Sorry 4 The Wait (WeezyThanxYou.com).zip

ALWAYS SERIOUS

I dont have a whole hell of a lot invested in this blog.  It was simply a concept that I'd thought up and designed in my head.  I was at a place in my life where I had a lot of free time.  I was spending hours everyday surfing the web, consuming content and leaving comments on other peeps blogs.  I was spending all day searching for new music, literature and other forms of art.  I figured I might as well spend my time more constructively and try to contribute something to the blogosphere, instead of always taking.  I thought I would translate my love for pop culture, art, music, politics, philosophy, ect. through the power of the blog.  I wanted to collect all those subjects and spit out some social commentary.  I thought maybe my point of view, opinions, and thoughts could offer up some entertaining and interesting insight into what is "hip."  I dreamt of becoming an internet celebrity or starting a popular blog or relevant website.  I really just wanted to get rich.  Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined my blog would take me so far away from any monetary gain.  Seriously Hip has become everything it wasn't suppose to be.  Personal, neglected and far from hip.  It's more like a journal.  Or, "a place where I can gather my interests and express my thoughts."  Eventually I would like to start a blog or website like I described.  But for now, this is going to remain the place where I vent my frustrations, share my happiness and make an ass of myself.  I am rebranding though.  Changing a few things up.  Its almost been a year and I hope you've enjoyed reading what I write as much as I've enjoyed writing it.  Thanks! 


Effing A....these breaks and spaces are starting to piss me off....seriously?!?!  take this, it'll hold you over till I get everything switched up.




famous shame/shameless fame


i came here in search of something sacred.
something i could hold onto, something permanent.
attachment 
attached to numbness
i cant feel my feet
walking barefoot down the city streets. 
multiple revelations turn into suffering after hearing your, shhhhhhhhh.
impermanence. 
in a life defined by beginnings and ends
in a place where your forgotten as quickly as your swept away
by time
TIME
this time i'm doing it for real.
i'm leaving my mark upon your forehead.
if i fall 
it will be without you.
sprawling downtown intersections with your loose frame and lanky limbs.
oh you lovely people 
we cherish your existence 
and your dedication to the preservation of our infrastructure and roads....(it's really quite impeccable)
just blessed I can be one with something 
when grazing alleys  
asking fellow walkers how far it was today that they walked
why did you even get out of bed 
why are you walking when you should be running 
forcefully into abandoned buildings overcome by rats and thieves lying in piles of garbage collected by the spirits of too many, 1:29 a.m. liquor store runz.
just to escape the house it took so many years to build.
my house is in order.
my lot is clean
my chin is up 
leaning back into the soft hands kept around to comfort and let you know exactly how special you are
possessing a uniqueness that only a human individual can
a likeness just like hers 
an image i portrayed in filth and corruption 
plastered on power line poles
missing
person
found
god
lying on a bed of hate and judgment
only left to self examination 
leading to extermination.




frank ocean [novacane] from christopher francis ocean on Vimeo.

YACHT Utopia / Dystopia (The Earth Is On Fire) from DFA Records on Vimeo.

Tyler the Creator Summer Camp Mixtape Click hulkshare link below

Hulkshare.com Summer Camp Mix 2011.mp3

Thats it!??!?!?!??!?////S////R/////S////L/////Y////

At least we can say we tried
Well at least you did
If a house was built on second third fourth chances would you call the carpenter a fool?
If forgiveness was lost 
gone with trust
I'm assuming the only feeling left would be lust


I got a guest house right beside the garden
A giant glass window with a really shitty view
The bed is only a double
Not suitable for a single soul 
I built it for a couple


Who knew a 'crush' would crush him
Look what he did.....he fucking crushed her


I stagger alone again 
Bed sheets stained from roses when 
I was thinking of you
I still do
Cant stop
That's why it hurts


Never needed so much air
Never breathed so much care
Never gasped so long
Never reached so high
Never fell so hard
Never felt so close 
To the color blue
Till these feelings of loosing you 
Started slowly coming true 


I was invited
given an invitation
Upon arriving 
I realized I've been wearing all black
Dressed in guilt and apologies never accepted
It wasn't at all broken 
Why'd you go and fix it? 
you had your chance(s).....
Thats it!!!!!!!

If u see the old me tell him I called
The me from five years ago or just last week'?
Open season on the hunt for a familiar face
This one, no! that one...it's hard to find him
He's never in the same place


They said I came standing 
Left on my knees
People said I changed
If you ever knew me 
She said, "I don't think I even know you."
I suggest we get acquainted
Maybe run around naked
Oh wait, nobody's here......it's only me 


Yeasayer - I Remember (VILLA remix) by VILLA Soundcloud
Childish Gambino - Be Alone by Camilo Mazo
Ryshon Jones ft. Sir Nigel, Le GemDior & Rashad Houston - Mad World by Rashad Houston
Low Anthem - Apothecary love by Cosmos Music Group
My Girls by Animal Collective (live @ The Bowery Poetry Club) by fatty acid
Selene by Max Tannone

Is this bro seriously still blogging?

Yeah.  He is still blogging, on a totes serious level.  But only in his own mind.  He travels through layers of the psyche, digs deep into his propane sized 'tank,' of emotions.  He filters through the good times and the bad.  He finds happiness in a life filled with family and friends who love him.  He feels the gifts of truth, brought to him by living, breathing, humming, pulsating subjects, in constant motion.  Physical and spiritual realities mend his conscious.  A being who sees through the eyes of an often conflicted, confused and sad man.  A dude who yearns for more.  He creates elaborate, exciting, "unrealistic," plans for the future.  Then like clockwork, morning, noon and night, he reminds himself, "nothing is unrealistic."  He says, "that *****teener mountain, over yonder.....it's not too high."  He says, "that river, in the canyon down below......it's not too deep."  He's on a quest to find something.  Something eternal, something he once had, the connection or oneness it(he) possibly felt as an embryo.  He's on a journey to slay the dragon.  


He gets in fights with reptilian like creatures.  Stuttering, looking nervous and anxious, he reluctantly describes them as having, "gnarly bulging snake eyes, three sharp horns located on the back, and an array of colors similar to that of a rainbow."  These fights leave him bruised and battered, sometimes with a limp.  Ya see, his knee, it's all fucked up from a motorcycle wreck he got in in the year of 2001.  He doesn't always win, but he always learns something new.  He comes back with new thoughts and new ideas.  New methods of observing himself, others, nature and the relationships he shares with them all. He gains a stronger sense of awareness after every fight, and from every lonely night.  Nursing his wounds he prepares for what the next day may hold.  Thinking of what new types of weapons his enemies might create.  He meditates on life, thinks about a(one) girl, then he closes his eyes and enters his dreams, where shit gets even more serious and crazy.  Then he wakes up, maybe composes a couple of tweets, listens to the latest mp3s and does it all over again.  This is a day in the life.

You think you know, but you have no idea, this is the true life, of srslyhip.blogspot.com.

Found this old piece of paper with some of my writing on it.  It kind of goes with the piece above.  I call it poetry, some say it's not poetry, but I write it and I write it for myself, mostly, so I can call it whatever t f I want.

I've been saving all this trash

I don't know where it belongs

I don't want to throw it away

I've got my reasons for this

I'm building mountains of memories from your

Climbing mountains of your cluttered scene

I'm walking backwards down your cynical 

Disappearing through the back of your

There's always tomorrow to peak at the past

There's always your sorrow to share with the future

Don't let it destroy you there's always forever

I'll be down for you waiting from under

I'd read all these books just to write you one letter

I'll be counting my thoughts awaiting the present

I just want you to know I'm breathing for you 

       
 

Undizputed by howse

A Short Story Pt. 2 Kara & Tara

//////ReAD///Pt. 1///FIRsT/////ClicK////HERE

About four days after the sledding accident I decided to move out of my parents house.  Tara and I started up our service again.  This was something I did over the years, usually as a secondary source of income.  I didn't really plan on getting into the business of pimping, although it did come naturally.  It kind of just found me.  It found me in the way you and your friend find yourself at the, "Iowa 80, worlds largest truck stop motel," Econo Lodge, with nowhere to go, no food, and no money(that's a whole other story)  We did have one valuable 'thing,' on hand, an attractive young lady.  And we were surrounded by a bunch of lonely, hungry for love, strung out men.  So we did the most rationale thing.  

I found out quickly the prostitution business is very lucrative.  The prostitution thing is a big part my relationship with Tara.  We had a thing years ago in middle school, but nothing in recent years.  We still talk, keep in touch and of course do business together.  I care for her mostly as a friend.  After that first deal we did, when we were broke and desperate, she has become nothing more than an item to sell.  I'll never know exactly what it is that enables her to sell her body to any random dude.  I always felt bad and thought it was probably attributed to some disfunction in her family, most likely the result of an absent father.  A short switch due to lack of attention, affection, and nurturing.  I never met her family or heard anything about them, so that is just a guess, but really, who knows.  It's apparent she likes to have sex and likes money.  And as a pimp, I treat her very well.  I never hit or abuse her, I split the profit from every "John," straight down the middle, and nobody else knows.  You would never guess at first glance that she was a whore.

I miss u and ur everything

I need u and ur nothing

I can't go on living this way.  I can no longer carry the weight of everything that has happened over the last five years.  My guilty conscious aches with lust, confusion, and co-dependency.   It's true these women know who each other are.  But Kara and Sara have no idea I've been in a relationship with Tara.   Even if it was just me selling her for sex, as far as they knew, we had not spoken in years.  So this was one thing.  The second thing was, the entire time Sara and I were together, I had been maintaining a relationship with Kara, via various forms of communication.  The third thing being, as deeply, madly in love with Kara as I think I am, I can't stop thinking about how pissed I am Sara is fucking Ronald and how devastating it is every time Tara adds a number to her "number."  I'm so confused, so conflicted, and so lost.  I'm not even sure I know what love is.  

I removed my last post on craigslist ten days ago.  I haven't heard from Tara since.  Sara wont answer my calls, texasis, or e-mails.  Kara and I are still speaking, but I feel like since the "official ending," of our relationship, three years ago when she left for school, I've been a selfish, rotten, lying piece of shit.  I don't even know what I would say to the three of them.  Most likely nothing of value.  Nothing that's going to make things better.  Nothing that's going to make everything alright.

I don't care, u think this is a game?

This is my life, this is my reality, welcome to my nightmare

I had a dream last night.  I had a dream that all men and women were created equal.  And that after this life, all men and women would be judged according to their actions in this life on earth.  There were no pearly gates, there was no larger than life being, with a long white beard and a gold staff, no angels, no hell, fire and brimstone.  It was only me, all alone.  I didn't even have a computer, or a pencil, or a legal pad.  I had a vision that I believe was an exact manifestation of myself in my truest form.  A quiet, lonely soul, who spent his gift of time only thinking of himself.  This dream I had is what has inspired me to come clean.  It's not only about me.  If I want any company in the afterlife, I'd better start respecting and appreciating the company I have in this life.  And if there isn't an afterlife, well, it makes my time and relationships here that much more important.  So here goes.              

I have thought a million times I'll just let this b

Every time I think of u I want u 4 only me

Dear Kara...........     

Fleet Foxes - Grown Ocean from Fleet Foxes on Vimeo.

PAINS OF BEING PURE AT HEART -"HEART IN YOUR HEARTBREAK" via Pitchfork.tv



Chip Tha Ripper - The Entrance from illRoots.com on Vimeo.HERE

Whats love got to do with 'healthy' relationships. A short story. Pt. 1 an Introduction and Sara

It had been two weeks since I went sledding with my ex-girlfriend Sara and her new "friend," that's a boy. 10 days since I had removed the last classified ad, of my ex-girlfriend Tara, I posted on craigslist under "men seeking women."  I was alone in the same crusty motel room Tara had left me in 10 days earlier.  The 18" RCA tv, model # j2530bl, had been repeating the same 12 infomercials since she had hurled the remote, among other things, at my forehead.  She missed, hitting the walls covered in gaudy flowered wallpaper.  The remote was broke and the tv was stuck on channel 44info-blah.  I only kept the tv on, because ever since I was a kid it made me feel like I wasn't alone.  I feel a kinship with other people, that are out there, somewhere, watching the same thing I am.  Or maybe it's the comfort of seeing people.  This was the same reason I became obsessed with music, it gives me that similar feeling of security and companionship.  Bourbon was sufficient in doing the same.  Those vices and devices were always there for me, as long as I had a piece of technology or access to the internet.  


There I was, staring blankly into a glass of whiskey, scouring music blogs and shouting curse words at Patti Stannger, who had lost 70 lbs in 7 months using the "SENSA weight loss system."  Facebook messages, emails, and cancelled texasis filled my computer and phone.  I knew what needed to be confessed was serious and personal.  The average contents inside an instant message seem to lack personability and sincerity.  So I grabbed a pencil with no eraser, a yellow sheet of paper from a legal pad and began writing to Kara.  She was half way around the world studying abroad in Thailand.  This was seriously meaningful shit, hearts needed comfort, souls needed peace, and minds needed saving.  Explanations needed to become acceptance. acceptance needed to become forgiveness and we all needed a group hug via G-Chat.    

Out of the three girls in my story, Sara was the most transient.  Never sticking around any place longer than the time it takes a 20 year old to fall in love.  She was a globetrotter, cultured for her age.  A restless, independent, 'rolling stone.'  All three of them seemed to get around.  It makes it really hard to form any special bond or meaningful relationship when as soon as you get close to someone, they're leaving.  So as it goes, Sara and I began getting closer, much closer than we were growing up.  We had known each other for years, just as casual acquaintances.  But after Kara left for college, we started spending a lot of time together.  We moved in together, moving from Iowa to California to Washington back to California.  As we discussed our future together, and how we would travel the world, create authentic little children, save the world and all it's suffering people, and a bunch of other great things, I left out two little 'details.'  I never told her that I was still talking to Kara, who she knew as my high school sweetheart.  I never told her, that when we were in California, I had been pimping our old 'friend' Tara.  She new both these girls and grew up with them just as I did.  
I'm going somewhere rlly fast
I'm nowhere & I got here way 2 fast
We were together for about 6 months when she told me she would be leaving and moving to Australia.  I pleaded with her to stay.  I told her that I loved her.  I brought home an Orchid Cactus and we made love.  After a long talk and four consecutive spins of the Postal Service album "Give Up," I had convinced her to stay.  Things were getting hot and heavy.  I was thinking less about myself and more about her.  All that, while pimping Tara and having random texa-sexting sessions with Kara.  On a cold and rainy day in early November, a thick fog descended on our coastal port.  I disappeared for three days.  Throughout the half of a week I was gone, Sara started getting suspicious.  After not calling or showing up, absent for three days.  I soon returned and I didn't know what to say.  She told me she called all the jails and hospitals fearing the worst.  There was no excuse for my stunt, so I didn't give one.  She did ask where I was, and I said, "I got stuck up in the mountains, I'm sorry."  A week later she had printed out three months worth of texasis and two juicy e-mails where Kara and I had discussed being soul-mates, getting back together, and other intimate things.  She also found three receipts from various motels around the greater Eureka area.  She found the receipts while doing my laundry.  I'm guessing she got into my e-mails while I was gone those three days.  And I later found out, she got those texasis from begging our cell phone provider, making up an elaborate story as to why it was that she needed them.  


We got into huge fights every night for a couple of weeks.  She would loose her temper and throw shit like, shoes, random Buddhist ornaments and statues, plates, and knives.  One night the neighbors overheard us fighting and were apparently standing concerned at the front door while she was throwing butter knives covered in miracle whip, sending them twirling across the living room.  They called the cops and she went to Jail for "class 2 assault."  As soon as she got the bail money, wired from her Dad in New York, she was out and back at our house, packing her bags.  She told me she was leaving for real this time, moving with her co-worker Ronald to Oregon.  I had no idea she even had a male co-worker.  I thought she worked with a couple of other girls, in an office, for a Real-Estate Agent.  I was saddened, struck with a sudden depression.  All alone feeling the 416 miles of separation.  Overwhelmed with anxiety and loneliness.  We occasionally talked and texasid on the phone.  We wrote wall to wall on facebook.  We stayed in touch.  All the way up until she brought Ronald back to our Hometown in Ames, Iowa.  

I see u trembling yet ur still shaking hands

Ur far a way yet I'm still making plans

Two weeks ago they took a one-way flight to this shit hole.  She brought him over for a spaghetti dinner at my parents, where I was currently living.  I was jealous, but I never wanted to act like I cared as much as I really did.  We were always "just friends,"  who ended up getting a little more romantically involved than most friends.  After dinner we went sledding on bloody hill.  It's a huge hill on the west end of the Hughes-Lankford Cemetary.  The spot I always went sledding as a kid.  It's a steep hill down by the railroad tracks and the small winding creek.   At least one kid a winter would end up at the E.R.  I couldn't help but feel an overall hatred for this Ronald guy, who was a successful web-designer somewhere outside Portland.  A total fucking hipster, who I actually shared a lot in common with.  I met him first when she left with him from Eureka, in his Prius.  And now a second time, taking him to the hospital because his tibia had broken and was clearly sticking out of his lower leg.  It was pretty gross.  All the snow was stained red.  A large trail of blood led to my 4runner.  I made a joke and said, "well at least I'm not covered in yellow snow!"  Nobody laughed and I dropped them off at the hospital.  She said her mom would come to pick them up and everything was fine.  I said "ok."  Then, while Ronald was being led into the E.R.  I grabbed her ass and kissed her on the lips.  This was the last time I saw Sara.  I would say there are un-resolved issues, or lingering feelings, or a mutual hope of those dreams, we once shared, becoming our reality.  But I'm not writing a seriously genuine letter, on paper, to her.


I don't really know where I'm going with this yet.  Honestly the story has just begun.  I don't want to write it all in one post, so.....yeah.  Stay tuned or express interest in hearing pt. 2 feat. Tara the prostitute and Kara, my high-school sweetheart.  I know it's really long for a blog post, but I've had writers block for the past month.  I had to just let it out.  

Starfucker /// Quality Time from Liberum Pictures on Vimeo.

Lil Wayne - "6foot 7foot" video Hype Williams













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