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суббота, 15 сентября 2007

18:08

Shave Your Ass. Jerk Before Work.

I couldn't care less.

I spent lots of time trying to find the excuses for me to jerk before I go to work without feeling any guilt afterwards. Here they are:
1. Windows Vista is not as fast as it should be. I need to occupy the time I spend waiting.
2. I forgot when I last had decent sex with my beloved.
3. After I jerk off I feel no interest towards half-naked asian beauties, who I see in the bars in plenty.
4. There's always no woman who could satisfy me when I'm on a business trip.
5. It feels good.
6. After jerking off I forget that I'm a human being and act like a robot. That's real corporate style.
7. It takes my mind off other things, those being work, weather, sex, money, relationships.

@музыка: Dogs Die In Hot Cars - Pastimes and Lifestyles

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13:49

I couldn't care less.

Fast and yeah, try to follow me, try to follow me.
From city to city, when as the last time we had a rest or had a drink or slept in a decent bed?
They're always hiding under the bed, always. The unswept ashes, the unheard screams.
I'm here. I'm anywhere. If you come to think of it, I can be right behind your back.
Try to calm her down, try to be so considerate that it hurts.
Actually, it makes you vomit.
I'm nowhere and it's now (c)
She says she loves me, but does she, really, or is it just another game she's trying to play? Like, am I someone else's hobby? She's jealous. I'm fast. This time she's the one to cry, I'm not.
Whatever. What I mean is: if she leaves me, which she might, where will I sleep? We got only one bed.

@музыка: The White Stripes - You Don't Know What Love Is, You Just Do What You're Told

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08:56

I couldn't care less.

Самая мощная в мире бомба испытана в России. Она создана с использованием нанотехнологий и не загрязняет окружающую среду. Все эти слова произнес заместитель начальника Генерального штаба Вооруженных сил России генерал-полковник Александр Рукшин в вечернем эфире Первого канала во вторник, 11.09.2007.
Да, она ее не загрязняет. Она ее просто сносит нахрен.

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05:19

Corpofilia

I couldn't care less.

It's an "either-or" situation. Either I jerk off or someone else jerks me off.
They. All. Want. My. Meat.

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четверг, 13 сентября 2007

09:51

I couldn't care less.

And there I go again: Shanghai Nanjing and back. The memories, the pieces of the phone talks are strung between them and there’s no use getting out of the web. The same music as two cities ago. The tangerine-big sun hangs low over the speedway railroad. I give classes. I speak different languages. I ask them and they answer me. The trees dash by the window as fast as the train moves on. Half an hour here, half an hour there. More than enough. Documents. Pieces of paper that don’t mean anything. Nothing at all. Probably they will lead me somewhere sometime.

Actually, I might probably arrive at some final destination and will never move again. Not that I want it, though. I get blamed for everything I’m not guilty of. That’s somewhat good, since the things I am guilty of go unnoticed. Yet it’s so annoying. I seem to be lost for words. And the ones I got stick out of my mouth so awkward. I’m actually no composed, I just stopped caring. They might be shouting at me or ignoring me, I’m better off with me myself, porn and PC games.

True love. What’s that? A branded concept. A thing that sells itself. A Big Lie. I wake up and smell her hair. Is it love? I see her going to the shower. Naked. She’ll never get naked in front of someone else. Probably. Does love presuppose mutual nudity? If it does, can a morgue be called the temple of love? If not, then why do naked people make love at all?

It’s hard to read her thoughts. Her mind. Is it because she’s so secretive or because she’s got no thoughts at all? I’ll never know, but what I know is that idealising kills. I mean, first it dumbs you down and only then kills. And, if I may, that’s a very pathetic death. That’s very stupid, anyway, to be speaking about this being half-married and all. It seems to be almost like some second-rate movie where everyone’s happy and have a photograph-happy family and they have parties together on the weekends and a good job and they live in condos. Yeah, they always live in condos.

I also do. I hate condos. I say that I do, but the miserable part of me says I should be willing to go up. A higher floor, more money every year, fringe benefits, social insurance, a friendly dentist and a fluffy dog. I hate that. It’s just like in “Fight Club” only in the reverse. I changed a shithole for a condo, whereas he shifted back. Well, the thought is: he somehow got into that condo with an yin-yang table and all that IKEA furniture. It didn’t come down to him by heritage and he wasn’t born right at his working place.

I wear a white shirt. Long sleeve. Strictly long sleeve.

Tell you what: before going to sleep I’m humbly calculating how much of my alter-self I’ve already sold or changed to fit the company policy. What’s more: I try to figure out how far I can go. What else to sell. Not too much now, yet it’s so comforting to have something left in stock.

Fuck it. It’s a corporate fuck it, btw

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понедельник, 10 сентября 2007

14:28

I couldn't care less.

Probably they're reading it behind my back. 3 cities in a day and there'll always be someone standing behind. Watching you. REading you. Hot asphalt, so hot it melts. Selling systems and the sound of a HiFi audio system blaring at its top volume. Night buses. Cooldown mode. Empty streets. Web-surfing. They've infected me with the WiFi, what am I going to do when the connection's lost? When there's one? That's a different reality we entertain ourselves in. Online games, chats, Gatorade. Trips. From a place to a place to a place. All of them so similar that they seem familiar. All of them result in newsletters. I forget the jeans I put on the back of a chair in a hotel two hotels before today.
I blend with the environment. I learn the words. And then they skip my mind. I start the course of self-selling and, probably, I'm already on the shelf of one of the online stores.
Blabber.

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12:31

I couldn't care less.

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четверг, 06 сентября 2007