It's like: ferocious and atrocious, slow cancerous death rattle, this american life

a razorblade of kindness or a decapitated head in a greyhound bus

By dusty (August 1, 2008)

I am dying in this hellhole of hotness over here in Arizona. Like the Venus (or anus, depending on your definition of horrible heat) of America, the air conditioning is never cold enough and the sun’s cancerous deathrays are relentless and even moving at all makes me sweat the fiery sweat of satan.

But perseverance trumps perspiration and I am soldiering on in my own little soldiery way (laying in front of my fan; aka God’s cold, wondrous breath) and I am saying to the sun: “I hate you”, but it does no good. Monsoon season is pretending not to exist and the dogs are shitting all over my floor and pissing wherever there isn’t shit.

Also, my house was robbed and my laptop was stolen by a too-tall-to-be-a-Mexican with no front teeth and a tattoo on his chest that says “Gumby” in Old English.

Reader, I have not updated you on my life for what seems like a decade but that is all changing because I am back and I am ready to kick some ass and take some names (seriously, what is your name? Let’s be friends). I am lion, hear me roar. I am man, watch me kill.

Let the past not be any indication of the future, though. I promise, things will be different from now. I will change, I can change. Just please, please don’t leave me.

Comments: (2)

It's like: laminating animals, slow cancerous death rattle

quarantine summary in these united states, this century, taking bio-toxins into account

By dusty (April 25, 2008)

Comments: (none)

It's like: slow cancerous death rattle, this american life, trepination

exchanging sanity for its younger, slightly better looking brother who just happens to enjoy using amphetamines recreationally

By dusty (April 24, 2008)

Comments: (1)

It's like: slow cancerous death rattle, the hunger, this american life

categorizing the lives of pandas and snakes in a college-ruled notebook filled with math equations

By dusty (April 9, 2008)

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It's like: slow cancerous death rattle, this american life, what are you looking at dicknose?

how to untrap your withering, cancer-ridden body from the belly of a lotus flower with nothing but a pair of pliers

By dusty (April 7, 2008)

Comments: (none)

It's like: slow cancerous death rattle, this american life

the finalization of the universe as it nears itself in a moebius strip of irony

By dusty (April 3, 2008)

Comments: (none)