Where it counts. Where was just a spot in a wormhole of a warren of Chinatown. Just out of the tourists reach a place many natives had never come across unless they worked for social services. You could hide out here watching pirated cable and drinking box wine on an SSI check and so he did. Seemed like a logical choice at the time. Life had won the battle was done and he surrendered gratefully to his hole in the wall. If you avoid the trendy places you can go for years without running into any of your old friends. Until they came looking for him the apathy he'd counted on replaced by goddamn compassion.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Where have you been bingymon?
Well if I told you I might have to kill you me and the whole kit and kaboodle. Top secret mission here producing progeny in the moat of despair. Its a dogs lifestyle for deadbeat dad's around here let me tell you. Keep hope and your ass alive and we will see what we will see.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Thursday, January 7, 2010
IM HERE TO CHANT ABOUT ARMAGEDDON
IT ALL COME DOWN FROM UNCLE SAM
A WARNING TO THE IDREN
THIS IS THE TIME TO BE FIGHTING
FOR THE LOVE OF i CHILDREN
THE HEALER OF NATIONS
BREAKING WALLS OF BABYLON
BUT THE WICKED WILL STILL COME
SO i MAN BE STRONG
KEEP OUT OF REACH
TEACH NOT PREACH
IMON A CONSCIOUS GANJA MON
I GO BY THE NAME OF THE BINGYMON
IN FULL EFFECT CHECK IT AND SEE
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
"The Guys Upstairs"
"Why would they lie?"
"That's what they do they're liars."
"Can you be more specific?"
"If it's a three handle Gucci knockoff we are recreating the union contract stated that counted as a bag and a half which is how we meet performance baselines, by "bags" in 5 specific size ranges. Furthermore if we exceed these baselines there are performance bonuses which for many members is the extra oomph in their paycheck that helps them make the decision to keep little Timmy in the family or leave him at the ER with his PlayStation, Again."
But really I did'nt.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Thursday, September 18, 2008
I woke up looking at pigeons flying over me . They seemed to flinch as they passed through the projection of laser light, but that couldn't be I'm the only one that can see it. I rolled onto my side and removed the headband. There were spots of blood on my pants where little bits of broken glass had dug into my poor kneecaps, not broken but they ought to be. I stood up and looked around, time to try this shit out.
The instructions were written in Mongolian engrish but clear enough to anyone familiar with illegal neural software. I could access the menus by staring at the point the laser projection landed on a surface then slowly close my right eye and hold the left wide open for 10 seconds until the cursor appeared. Then I could open the right and see the menus super imposed on the already superimposed laser image. I scanned them quickly and just upped the energy allocation levels to maximum, I could tweak the rest later.
With the diamond light appearing to increase as my energy returned I moved to a window grabbed an old table swept it off and looked out the old torpedo factory window towards the Potomac. Assuming the lotus position I cast the beam out and across the river towards the heavens. Instant and total mental clarity was what the ad had promised. I needed it now or the schizophrenia inducing virus I'd contracted in Albuquerque was going to shred my remaining sanity to bits. Bits I'd never put back together.
I sat there for 48 hours without moving a muscle until I passed out and hit the floor. the shit had worked but not in the way I expected. I was a wisp of air that was lighter than air my soul washed away into the ether. If I crawled out the rusted door of the factory and met the wrong people I was doomed to a life of unspeakable crimes. If I made it to my old high school library and found the Teacher still working there straightening the shelves I had a chance.
I found my pack and downed the half gallon of electrolyte water and ate a protein bar. I made my way downstairs past the piles of pigeon droppings and out to the street. The first thing I need is some sunglasses, this diamond shaped laser beam shooting out and through everything like a red hot knife through butter is fucking blinding me. I sighted down King St on the Masonic Temple and projected myself into the Egyptian Room on the 5th floor. From there I could see my old High School and projected onto the roof of the library. The rest of my story is ancient history, now retold in Annals of the 4th Psi War 5th edition.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Monday, September 8, 2008
Our main industry will of course be weed and organic produce. We can buy whatever else we need from China in exchange for the homes of Hollywood Republicans.
OK that's about as far as I can get with that type of rant. If you motherfuckers elect Sarah Palin president all I can really do is pray like a snake handling baptist that you get what you deserve.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
There are times when I miss that feeling of complete and utter aimlessness. I was just waiting to for the smoke to clear from my latest drug fueled disaster so I could go out and do it again. Rudy Rodan was waiting until he could stop taking his psych meds long enough to let his mind fly away again. We were brothers in this state, listening to Rastafarian chants hoping for a clue that would give us both meaning.
I'm not sure what happened to Rudy Rodan, last I saw him was on the porch of his Mom's new condo, smoking one cig after another, asking if he could come live with me in California. A tall white man with a strong southern accent, thick beard, shaved head, white oxford shirt, black jeans, doc martens, who would swear he was a member of the lost tribe of Israel. I'm sorry I lost touch brother, schizophrenia's just another word for nothing left to lose.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Friday, August 1, 2008
If I did'nt appreciate the absolutely effen fantastic food of the bay area I do now. Now i need a lobster roll. i'll add pics later, I cant look at them right now.
Friday, July 18, 2008
"What the fuck are you doing here Wallace Beaver! I broke up with you a month ago! Get out Get out Get out! " her voice rose in pitch level straight to hysteria.
" I told you I was crazy baby, remember?" I calmly stated though chattering teeth as I pulled the top off a can of red spray paint.
I gave it six rapid speed shakes as my finger found the button on the top of the can and I focused on the beautiful expanse of white wall over her bed. These old buildings with their solid plaster walls heavy with the grime of generations, I love them so.
My arm swept up in a precise arc I could never repeat on purpose if I tried a million times and the can hissed as I liberated myself of the image burning on the inside of the front of my skull. It wasn't a bad word or anything about Shari, but I knew she would understand, I had explained all this on several occasions after I'd fucked her senseless. I'd repeated my mantra enough I'm sure that she could grasp my intention at least subliminally.
A perfect circle! I'd pulled it off in one move! There was a little side spray of paint on the tops of the giant pillow and stuffed animal pile but a little paint thinner would take care of that later, much later.
I reached in my messenger bag for the second can and felt something tugging at my arm and a loud rushing noise in my ear.
"Wallace! Wallace! WALLACE! I'M CALLING THE POLICE YOU SICK BASTARD!"
Shari's voice sounded as if it came from far far away like the galaxy in Star Wars. I had the blue can now and the details began to emerge , the delicate flowers and hearts that covered the skin of the sacred satyr that represented my love for Shari. It didn't matter that she had broken up with me I wasn't upset, but this work was unavoidable , a bullet train of intention that I myself had no power to stop. My feet felt numb my legs were shaking but I kept on, now the green!
I swung the can towards the wall, time for another perfect circle! But my arm jerked and my muscles spasmed and my arm would not rise it was trapped. I turned my head to the side and saw the reflection in the mirror over the dresser. The boys in blue! Two of them behind me holding my arms, they weren't worried, I wasn't worried, we were old friends.
"Wally, are you done now?"
"Yes sir, thank you."
Monday, July 14, 2008
Thursday, July 10, 2008
my heart hurts and i know why
but i'm stuck here for the time being
knowing that is knowing something
doesn't really lessen the pain just makes it real
it's not enough to overwhelm me
no feeling ever will be
and still i want to run
because it's what i do best
down rating myself isn't working either
i'll do what andrew t said so long ago
pray for the willingness to be willing
freedom through responsibility
Monday, July 7, 2008
I am hungry and I must rest there is much to do in preparation for the autumn pig slaughter 3 minutes ago
i once wrote a poem called "sweating lifes blood in the grip of society's mindcrusher" i was 17 or thereabouts 6 minutes ago
i remember once i caught a magic fish that had a yellow tag for which i recieved a 50 dollar savings bond i later bought bad salmon stocks 11 minutes ago
in florence arizona state prison i used all my charm to get librium from the nurse 5 minutes later i was released all charges dropped 14 minutes ago
i was in jail in casa grande arizona with an inmate named betelgeuse if the guards said his name 3 times he went into a rage i was kicking 16 minutes ago
the gangster chronicles were a band of young hoodlums age 8-12 in Landover MD circa 1970 they merged with the crunchberry disciples you see 27 minutes ago from BeTwittered
johnnytoobad yea though i walk the valley of the shadow of death i shall fear no muttonchop wannabe or his petulant children 30 minutes ago from BeTwittered
johnnytoobad The author of the crashberry chronicles was an unknown poet from the upper eastside I channel his wisdom forthnnightly 34 minutes ago from txt
johnnytoobad Shoulda coulda woulda been a reggae superstar bingymon meets the rockers uptown inna dub roots style yes I about 4 hours ago from txt
johnnytoobad My house is the riggity wreckest its ever been the 4th will be a national day of cleaning at my crib 11:45 PM July 03, 2008 from txt
johnnytoobad @ HenryRollins you're a long way from hagen daz in georgetown where I first saw you and Ian I thought you were marines gone awol 12:33 AM July 03, 2008 from txt in reply to HenryRollins
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Sunday, June 8, 2008
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
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This article is about the state motto. For other uses, see Live Free or Die (disambiguation).
"Live Free or Die" is the official motto of the U.S. state of New Hampshire, adopted by the General Court in 1945. It is possibly the best-known of all state mottos, partly because it speaks to an aggressive independence inherent in American political philosophy and partly because of its contrast to the milder sentiments usually found in such mottos.
The phrase comes from a toast written by General John Stark on July 31, 1809. Poor health forced Stark, New Hampshire's most famous soldier of the American Revolutionary War, to decline an invitation to an anniversary reunion of the Battle of Bennington and to send his toast by letter:
"Live free or die: Death is not the worst of evils. "
It may have an earlier origin, as mentioned in Burke's 1758 The Annual Register of World Events: A Review of the Year, q.v. at google books.
The motto was enacted at the same time as the state emblem, on which it appears.