read_me yoink is anyone out there? i need a hug can i have a hug? i love you. 010520 ... unhinged *HUGS* love you too baby. 010520 ... yoink a_match_made_in_blather 010520 ... b_l_a_n_k *hugs to all who need them* 030414 ... /anon NO HUG FOR YOU! I wish I were a Chinaman 030415 ... p2 i'm a chinaman what's your point? 030415 ... Fli Yes and yes! 030415 ... /anon I wish I were ethnic. Right now I'm ashamed to be white. Your lucky your Chinese. I ain't racist or notin just wish I were ethnic. And the Chinaman thing was just nonsense 030416 ... Dafremen A belated hug to yoinks. You are loved, stranger or not. Yes Christopher, I think I will. Since you were kind enough to leave an email address, I'll even let you know which I enjoyed the most. anon, those are my favorite kind of blathers. The nothings that are easily interpreted as somethings. There is something entertaining about watching folks judge a book by it's cover. Particularly when it's not a book but a cleverly concealed flyswatter. 030417 ... x everyone has an ethnicity 030417 ... god i was born in a mall 030417 ... /anon I mean some other ethnicity. But that would defeat the purpose cause I would have grown up like that and it will have been life and I would want to be some other ethnicity! 030417 ... User24 i have a cutout from a magazine on my wall of readme.txt, under the text icon. 030430 ... the awful truth please. 060708 ... the awful truth Red. Stop. Green. Go. Yellow. Go faster. Wait, can I make this turn here? I think this is one-way. Oh shit, is that a cop behind us? Do you think we should try it? No, dude, you better pull over. Wait, is this a lane? Did you hear about that party? Red. Green. Yellow. Turn. Brake. Gas. Cigarette. Cigarette. Cigarette. Every night is the same. The night stretches out like space, like a blanket, like a big black quilt which I throw over the head of my dog, and watch him sit stock-still on the floor, shaking. The night is unknowing. The night is the dark, and the dark is no light. And light is simply something which illuminates everything, which makes everything there and plain to see. So without light everything is shrouded, nothing is plain to see. The night is unknowing. Every road is the same. Every road is simply just black tar over packed dirt with millions and millions of tire-tracks on every single inch of the parched tarmac, and every tire track is like a footprint of a car, and every car has carried at least one person, and every person has two eyes and two ears and a dick or a cunt unless they are missing one, in which case they’re a freak. Otherwise they’re just like everybody else. Every party is the same. Every party is a house, packed full like a sleeping-bag stuff-sack, packed full and you like to imagine if you were that small, if you were that small, you could hold your breath, and it would be like that scene in Star Wars, where the walls are closing in, and once whoever was stuffing the bag into the sack was done, you could lie there, stuck in with the sleeping bag, a millimeter tall, and you could press your face against the cool nylon and be hidden forever. Every girl is the same, every boy is the same, every fuck is the same, every fight is the same, every cop is exactly the same. Every blunt is not the same. Some can be sloppy and wobbly, some can be smooth and tight, some are real juicy and drippy, and some are dry as a bone. Some you need to take a lighter to every rotation because it leaks worse than the Titanic, post-iceberg, and some you need to keep on licking and re-rolling because it’s unrolling itself like a little Chinese water-snake, which is really just a crunched-up straw wrapper, removed carefully and dripped on by soda. Which is why I am adamant. We drive down these streets and stop at these lights, and I don’t care if it’s a Marlb, a Camel, or a fuckin’ twig, I’ll smoke it and call it a cigarette as long as I am rolling this blunt. We have to have these things, these needs, these cravings, these tosses-of-coal onto the fire of our egos, in order to keep ourselves alive and awake and aware. We fight over gas prices and dinner checks, and we fight over rides home, because if we didn’t fight over these things than would we be? Equal. And equal means the same. If you are equal to everyone else than you are exactly the same. So we strive for individuality. We strive for the trucker hat, we strive for the quip. The line. So we can get an, “Oh, remember when.” We love the, “Oh, remember when.” When someone has a really good “Remember when” we can use it every day. Hey, Hello, What’s up. Remember when? And then we remember. 060730 ... the awful truth Remember when we took that turn into Laughlin County, that Thursday? Remember how we had been driving around all night? We had been driving around all night and we had never taken that turn, we had driven up and down Western and never made the turn on Beech, we had come from the left and turned right on Western and gone down, and turned around, and we would take another left onto Beech but we had never taken that fateful right. That right onto Beech, across the line into Laughlin County where the cops go from the big, burly, and dark to the tall, skinny and dark, who would take your crack and smoke it, who are seen turning on their lights to make a break in the rush-hour traffic, who are seen pulling in to illegal spots, and you laugh, and wait for him to write the tickets for the cars behind him, and he just goes into the corner store and comes out munching, to the pale-faced tightwads of Laughlin County who lounge behind their pansy-blue cruisers reading the Current, which is the most ridiculous thing ever printed on paper, while they watch their state-of-the-art radar guns and chase after anyone doing 36, who bust you for jaywalking, who fuck you. We took that right, and pulled in to that construction zone, that half-built mass of wood and beams? That plywood fortress inside of which we drank and smoked and yelled. And the cops came? Remember? And we all got pounded, man, pounded. But you, man, you said to him, he said, “If you guys worked in the city you’d get to drink these beers. Remember that time at the beach when we were walking back through the sand, after we had been at the boardwalk all night long? And you lit that joint. And we passed it back and forth and we were three-quarters through, when, “Can I hit that?” And we turned, man, we turned and there were those two girls man, the one looking like she just crawled up out of the ocean, man, a fuckin’ mermaid in shimmering green, and wet hair, and glitter on her eyelids when she closed them to laugh, and the other one, man, the other one all tall and sleek and dark, like a cat, man, and she had these eyes that ate away, ate away at me all that night. “Can I hit that?” And they smoked, too, man! So we let them and they floated along next to us for the next couple blocks of beach-mansions, the next couple lifeguard chairs. And finally before the jetty we all went and sat on the chair, man, the lifeguard chair, and played truth or dare. And the mermaid, she asked you, remember? She asked you to kiss her. And you said, “I don’t know how.” 060730 what's it to you? who go blather from