Feb 6, 2009 I am the Doctor!, you sons of bitches! getting drunk with Suzy at Dolores Park on a Monday evening, and then I took out my sonic screwdriver, and then, uh uh uh, we did some G-rated ass shit, and some drunk teenagers smashed a beer bottle, and uh, I just you know like explained to them that I was a Time Lord. I'm from fucking Gallifrey! My name?.., You can just call me the Doctor. And they were placated. I told them that their world was in great danger. I attempted to save them, and the police box showed up. I almost tripped on my extremely long scarf or maybe I was just drunk. What was I talking about? Both of my hearts pumping. Yeah, that's it. That's what I was talking about. Wait. No, that wasn't it at all. I'm 750 years old; all the facts start to get confusing. Yeah, that's it! I'm just confused because I'm old! How come I didn't think of that excuse before? Well, why in the hell am I making excuses to y'all? I'm a Time Lord for shit's sake! And then, they didn't want to let me on the Tardis. They said I was too drunk, but then, they let me on, and then I shat myself on the plane going back to LA. Thursday, November 06, 2008 Evasive Contempt I regret Nothing; Part Infinity + 1; My body was a gift exchanged between me and god to do with as I please. If I want to wreak havoc on it, that's for me to decide. It's just between me, myself, I, and a few other people of whom, the names: right now, I just don't quite remember. I think one of their names began with a J, but I'm not quite certain right now. I know that there was a smell of a public urinal in the air at the time. Please consult me on this in the future when I'm not so drunk. Good luck on that. You will need it. And a gasmask too. You might want to bring one of those along as well. Apparently, my breath smells like paint thinner according to one of my coworkers. Sometimes, I feel bad for my body. It's been one long, cruel joke on it, all for my own amusement. Like it thinks it's dying, so it goes about pathetically trying to sow its seed as far and wide as possible and I just sit back quietly giggling to myself. It's quite the spectacle, let me tell you. Its aimless reckless wandering; the only thing in its mind is to procreate. "Yeah, go sow the seed," I tell it and laugh hysterically. Little does it know there is no seed to sow. My body is as sterile as George Bush, Jr. with coke dick in a room full of Iraqi suicide bombers. I don't really know why that would make him sterile, but it sounded nice. I think that would make him get coke dick, I mean impotent. I'm always fucking with its head. Yeah, go stick your penis in things and see if you can replicate yourself. Stupid ass bitch! Yeah, I know that sounds terrible. Even to me, the phrase, "stupid ass bitch" gives me a gag reflex. But the idea of calling my own body "stupid ass bitch," entertains me to no end. And, the idea of fucking with my own body's head is even better. "Yeah, you stupid ass bitch! You're dead to me! All of y'all are dead to me! Especially you, whoever's reading this. I'll kill you! I'll kill you all!" The only two things that would satisfy my body's desires are to see a baby Tomatoes or the smell of living cadavers burning in a gigantic oven. Especially if it smells like cinnamon cookies. This blog's black metal suggestion is Wolves in the Throne Room. They are one of those black metal bands that even non-black metal fans like. They are stupendous. I'm pretty sure I have seen them at least once, but it wasn't until I heard their recorded music, that I completely fell in love with them. I don't even want to describe it because I feel like it would cheapen it for you. Sunday, February 08, 2009 Por Tu Maldito Amor It was so refreshing, my girlfriend owned the Depeche Mode record, Black Celebration, and her roommate's brother who always was hanging out had a daily delivery of cocaine and heroin and a wide supply of clean points. I felt like I was hanging out with my friends back in Texas. But, they don't let me lsiten to Depeche Mode. First you put some water on the spoon, then the coke, and you mix it up with the back of the plunger. It turns clear. Just like water. That's when you put the heroin on there. I don't cook it. That's so much bullshit. Just mix it mix it mix it. Be patient. I know you're trembling, and you want to get high so bad, and oh yes, you will! More high than you even wanted to! So, that happened a few times, the guy kept on coming back it was over in Hillcrest. Pukealicious! I tried walking around, but it's so god damn sunny in San Diego, it makes me dizzy. And then, my girlfriend came home from work in her sexy secretary outfit. We ate dinner. I literally was shoving it down my high gross numbed throat. We went in the bedroom, and proceeded to do nasty stuff to each other. She was on top of me, half in her professional garb, and it felt so good. I started to feel uncomfortable. The lights were on, and I felt like people were staring at me. The blinds were shut, but still. I felt uncomfortable. "Hold on, hold on, hold on" I walked across the room, my enormous erect penis bobbing comically, and shut the god damn motherfucking light off. I laid back down, and she continued fucking me in the most greatest way. Something about the way it felt, . . . and then, to my horror, I realized that somebody, presumably a previous tenant had written the word, "PREITO" in gigantic, capital, glow-in-the-dark letters on the ceiling. I have no idea what in the fuck that means, and quite honestly, it kind of freaked me out. I chose to ignore it and just enjoy her beautiful body. "Yeah, fuck that pussy. Fuck it hard." "Who in the fuck is this?" I said inside my mind. "Just do her hard. Do her just like that. Get her on her knees and pull her hair, and hard." "Well, I was already planning on doing that, but I don't need you bossing me around. That's fucking bullshit! What is your fucking problem?!?!?" And then, that voice went away for a while. It waited until the sex became especially hot, and then it came back as you knew it would, and the voice: "Fuck her hard! Fuck that sweet, sweet pussy!" PRIETO was blazing. I jumped up, put my pants on, and ran outside quivering in the chilly San Diego weather on the sidewalk and literally crying. So, no Black Metal review for this blog, but if you're able to watch this Vicente Fernandez video without seriously contemplating suicide, well, uh uh uh, maybe you should seriously contemplate suicide: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WUPhhggd0YE