0600hrs: 1st wake-up/re-sleep.
0610hrs: 2nd wake-up/re-sleep.
0615hrs: 3rd wake-up coupled with bathroom usage and 4 minutes of bed rest.
0620hrs: Depart room and make way to first formation.
0630hrs-0724hrs: Physical Training - Company 'Fun' Run.
0724-0735hrs: 'Bullshitting' with peers.
0735-0755hrs: CNN viewing/internet browsing while waiting for turn with bathroom.
0755-0812hrs: Bathroom (shower, empty colon, teeth maintenance, assurance of facial continuity, etc..)
0812-0845hrs: Dining Facility Breakfast
0845-0855hrs: Running around trying to find 2nd formation because we (my roommate/hetero-life mate and I) neglected to secure information regarding 2nd formation.
0855hrs-0913hrs: 2nd formation (AKA Taking fucking forever to be told information you have already known for just about the whole week OR information you don't even need to know while in a rectangle of people all standing with legs shoulder width apart and both hands thumb-clasped in the small of the back(aka lower back))
0914-0914hrs: Obligatory post-formation Nof joke.
0914-1126hrs: Pretending to do work.*
1126-1202hrs: Lunch (most likely not a DFAC meal considering it's only been like, what? 3 hours since you had that hearty pre-weekend breakfast and you might as well just make a sandwich from the groceries you got last weekend so you don't feel bad about buying food and not eating it).
1202-1248hrs: Counting the minutes until you have to return to work.
1250-1255hrs: Return to work.
1300hrs: Platoon leadership: 'Good News Everyone! We have nothing more to do for the day!'
1301hrs: Questions raised by platoon members about probability of 'getting out of work' early in response to information received addressing the lack of work available for the remainder of the work day.
1302hrs: Platoon leadership: 'Um, Just hold on one minute let me check with 1SG.'
1303-1303hrs: Obligatory Nof joke.
1303hrs - 1522hrs: Work-day purgatory-(the sitting around, rock-paper-scissors, cynical jokes, random bullshit tasks meant to give the idea that we DO have stuff to do, freecell on a laptop, text messaging and then finally being told 'Ok everyone, safety briefing is at 1600 so you can go but you must be back here by then. Matter of fact I want everyone back here at 1550 SHARP.')
1523hrs - 1545hrs: Might as well just go back to the room and enjoy the 67 degree air because we don't give a fuck we ain't paying the bills and it's humid as fuck here in GA.
1545-1615hrs: Waiting for this FUCKING FORMATION. LET'S GO.
1615 - 1644hrs: Do you realize we are standing in the sun as you go on, and on, and on, and on about the same fucking thing? - AKA Safety briefing.
1645hrs: Pick a cool song to blast on your radio while peeling out of the parking lot.
1645-1735hrs: Spontaneous game of FIFA04 with random barracks peer while wearing stripped down version of army uniform.
1735-1808hrs- Planning/Alcohol Purchasing.
1815hrs-1829hrs - Shower.
1830 - 0215hrs - Drunk. (There are too many non-significant and embarrassing events taking place during these hours that it isn't necessary to record them)
0215hrs - 0300hrs: Destruction of Exit Signs/Fire Extinguishers.
0300-?: Sleep.
* - AKA Shamming. Stay tuned for forthcoming piece regarding Sham.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Pot Helps pt. 6 (The Ocean)
I guess I'm real sick of opening this box and seeing that
fucking pair of brass knuckles you purchased outside of Orlando at the liquor store that sold bullshit Absinthe which you bought anyway for $49.95 and tasted like fucking JP-4 and the way
you successfully broke my Mom's ex-boyfriend's maxilla in two separate but equally painful places and also probably took out a good portion of his front and upper teeth specifically the
central and lateral incisors and maybe even the canines, the teeth you call your fangs, like we had used to pretend we were vampires when we were child-like in 2006 swimming the carpet with a head of acid and tossing a knife across
the room to each other and now all I do is sit around and cash checks and flip through my 12 various News and Weather stations that I acquired with the purchase of the ATT U-Verse U450 TV Package and I sit in this room attempting to not get mad at or involved with
the bullshit zeitgeist of which I submit myself to everyday like I'm sitting in some boat in the middle of the ocean of ping-ponging-American-political-pundit-scaremongering-bullshit and the boat purposefully has a tiny hole in it to allow at least a good part of the ocean(1) in over time so I have to reach
for my bucket and physically scoop and put the bullshit(2) back in the ocean(3) where it belongs and it's not just the ocean or the bucket or the boat but the whole thing of it all combined that I seem to like or fall into doing over and over easily and I'm sending these
brass knuckles back to you because I cleaned them and now I need you to pleasantly surprise me and break my face.
Footnotes:
1- (of bullshit)
2- (from the ocean)
3- (of bullshit)
fucking pair of brass knuckles you purchased outside of Orlando at the liquor store that sold bullshit Absinthe which you bought anyway for $49.95 and tasted like fucking JP-4 and the way
you successfully broke my Mom's ex-boyfriend's maxilla in two separate but equally painful places and also probably took out a good portion of his front and upper teeth specifically the
central and lateral incisors and maybe even the canines, the teeth you call your fangs, like we had used to pretend we were vampires when we were child-like in 2006 swimming the carpet with a head of acid and tossing a knife across
the room to each other and now all I do is sit around and cash checks and flip through my 12 various News and Weather stations that I acquired with the purchase of the ATT U-Verse U450 TV Package and I sit in this room attempting to not get mad at or involved with
the bullshit zeitgeist of which I submit myself to everyday like I'm sitting in some boat in the middle of the ocean of ping-ponging-American-political-pundit-scaremongering-bullshit and the boat purposefully has a tiny hole in it to allow at least a good part of the ocean(1) in over time so I have to reach
for my bucket and physically scoop and put the bullshit(2) back in the ocean(3) where it belongs and it's not just the ocean or the bucket or the boat but the whole thing of it all combined that I seem to like or fall into doing over and over easily and I'm sending these
brass knuckles back to you because I cleaned them and now I need you to pleasantly surprise me and break my face.
Footnotes:
1- (of bullshit)
2- (from the ocean)
3- (of bullshit)
Pot Helps pt. 5
A significant amount of my canary yellow, b12-enriched piss in your mouth...
Who's laughing now?
Who's laughing now?
Pot Helps pt. 3
"I got my complaint back from the Department of Creations and Existences."
"..."
"Remember? Filed that complaint way back in, well shit, 2005CE?"
"..."
"...I didn't even know they operated anymore. Guess so, they sent me this message!"
"..."
"..."
"..."
"This is my favorite part, listen...'We've received your LIFE complaint and have found that neither logical nor ethically suitable measures can be implemented to satisfy your grievance(s) OR the grievance(s) has/have been previously satisfied through the already all-known Amalgamation."
"..."
"They even sent me a pamphlet of information on the nano-life/cancer relationship! I don't think I've seen one of these since right before non-recorded time. Not a clue as to how long ago that was."
"..."
"I wrote in complaining that all human life was inherently fraudulent because, back then, some whatever hundreds or thousands or millions of years ago, being a human meant you were at the top of the food chain from birth, no matter what."
"..."
"But I suppose, that was indeed solved by the Amalgamation."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"I also filed another complaint the same time as the other one, jokingly asking for a bigger dick."
"..."
"This one just says..."We've received your ANATOMY complaint and have found that the grievance(s) has/have been previously satisfied through the already all-known Amalgamation."
"..."
"..heh"
"..."
"Hey, are you all right? You aren't talking much."
"..."
"Remember? Filed that complaint way back in, well shit, 2005CE?"
"..."
"...I didn't even know they operated anymore. Guess so, they sent me this message!"
"..."
"..."
"..."
"This is my favorite part, listen...'We've received your LIFE complaint and have found that neither logical nor ethically suitable measures can be implemented to satisfy your grievance(s) OR the grievance(s) has/have been previously satisfied through the already all-known Amalgamation."
"..."
"They even sent me a pamphlet of information on the nano-life/cancer relationship! I don't think I've seen one of these since right before non-recorded time. Not a clue as to how long ago that was."
"..."
"I wrote in complaining that all human life was inherently fraudulent because, back then, some whatever hundreds or thousands or millions of years ago, being a human meant you were at the top of the food chain from birth, no matter what."
"..."
"But I suppose, that was indeed solved by the Amalgamation."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"I also filed another complaint the same time as the other one, jokingly asking for a bigger dick."
"..."
"This one just says..."We've received your ANATOMY complaint and have found that the grievance(s) has/have been previously satisfied through the already all-known Amalgamation."
"..."
"..heh"
"..."
"Hey, are you all right? You aren't talking much."
Pot Helps pt. 2
Oh lord hear me,
that I am the counterpoint of a 'juvenile' teen,
a raped and abused, left to die in the system that is supposed to rehabilitate me. Fiend
Fuck
U
C
K
Me
E.
Now let's take a moment to be perfectly honest,
what will you do without your post-apocalyptic,
uguggleeyy mouthed messiah,
your American-sponsored illegal war pariah,
the shotgun-seated free styling poetic beat crusher, birth-named Ryan?
A monster.
N-zero-F
'OFF WITH HIS HEAD!!!'
Mountains of evidence proving that you will not be able to halt my advance. Smokey breath.
I HAVE ALREADY DEATH.
Oh lord hear me,
that I am the reason black holes exist.
the only feasible answer the universe can produce to counter the fire my eyes emit.
I swallow star shit.
My domination: annealed.
Cant
A
N
T
Stop
T
O
P
Me
E.
that I am the counterpoint of a 'juvenile' teen,
a raped and abused, left to die in the system that is supposed to rehabilitate me. Fiend
Fuck
U
C
K
Me
E.
Now let's take a moment to be perfectly honest,
what will you do without your post-apocalyptic,
uguggleeyy mouthed messiah,
your American-sponsored illegal war pariah,
the shotgun-seated free styling poetic beat crusher, birth-named Ryan?
A monster.
N-zero-F
'OFF WITH HIS HEAD!!!'
Mountains of evidence proving that you will not be able to halt my advance. Smokey breath.
I HAVE ALREADY DEATH.
Oh lord hear me,
that I am the reason black holes exist.
the only feasible answer the universe can produce to counter the fire my eyes emit.
I swallow star shit.
My domination: annealed.
Cant
A
N
T
Stop
T
O
P
Me
E.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Pot Helps pt. 1
What it is is that basket full of laundry,
two-day old outfit,
slept in lived in.
That consistent nagging persistent bullshit of the television's advertising bullhorn mouthpiece
and my pissed pants.
The stiff frozen putty feel of my lower back
and my crashed up mashed up teeth.
Shaking my head to the n-o-n-s-e-n-s-e;
spell it out with me:
n-o-n-s-e-n-s-e.
Aaahhh fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me.
What it is is that snow-raped muddy trash ground,
the last remnants of my baby fat still sticking around,
forever of sound,
wasting money wasting time wasting money wasting
time.
What you didn't create,
you shouldn't define.
So stop telling me about this American life of mine.
Got no time for money, business, religion, police, peace, bumper stickers or corporate crime,
just time.
Because what it is is a book I've yet to write,
a death I've yet to die;
meeting up with my past breaths in the sky,
gratefully living a terrifyingly naked and humble life.
two-day old outfit,
slept in lived in.
That consistent nagging persistent bullshit of the television's advertising bullhorn mouthpiece
and my pissed pants.
The stiff frozen putty feel of my lower back
and my crashed up mashed up teeth.
Shaking my head to the n-o-n-s-e-n-s-e;
spell it out with me:
n-o-n-s-e-n-s-e.
Aaahhh fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me.
What it is is that snow-raped muddy trash ground,
the last remnants of my baby fat still sticking around,
forever of sound,
wasting money wasting time wasting money wasting
time.
What you didn't create,
you shouldn't define.
So stop telling me about this American life of mine.
Got no time for money, business, religion, police, peace, bumper stickers or corporate crime,
just time.
Because what it is is a book I've yet to write,
a death I've yet to die;
meeting up with my past breaths in the sky,
gratefully living a terrifyingly naked and humble life.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Haiti
I am deathly poor with a seven point zero,
The bloody t-shirt I wear features hand me down American heroes,
I am barely a number, barely a zero.
Rubble, rubble everywhere, and not a drop to drink,
Most of you wouldn't even drink from my pre-earthquake sink.
The soft whispers of death, are louder than you think.
God must not love his Caribbean Roman Catholics,
Collapsing the west's poorest country, his illogical mathematics.
Meanwhile banks take record profits; capitalist antics.
The stench of the stench of bodies, and death lives.
A one year celebration on the Hudson, a whopping 155 lived,
And here in the Caribbean, 50,000+ graves we dig.
We interrupt this coverage, for politically charged ads,
And return to a solitary daughter lost in rubble, and one camera loving dad.
American lives are not worth more than those digging up bodies with Haitian hands.
I'm just dermis and calcium, feather on air,
An exoskeleton of concrete dust, I'm barely there,
The octogenarian of pain, lost the ability to care.
An eight hundred millionaire, arguing for a pathetic half hour,
While I'm rescued from darkness, claustrophobia and silence after 50+ hours.
There is no god, there is sorrow.
We must warn you of the intensity of these death filled images,
Keep that reality blindfold on your fat faced kids.
Our developed lives will never be like this, so don't think-of-it.
The deepest black hole in space has to compete with a mass grave.
Resorting to civil war medicine and the limbs that it takes.
Is this sympathy or apathy that I have made?
I can't imagine any future, in this recently quaked head,
In a world where abandoning god is easier than abandoning debt.
I know that without any god, I'll still receive peace in death.
The bloody t-shirt I wear features hand me down American heroes,
I am barely a number, barely a zero.
Rubble, rubble everywhere, and not a drop to drink,
Most of you wouldn't even drink from my pre-earthquake sink.
The soft whispers of death, are louder than you think.
God must not love his Caribbean Roman Catholics,
Collapsing the west's poorest country, his illogical mathematics.
Meanwhile banks take record profits; capitalist antics.
The stench of the stench of bodies, and death lives.
A one year celebration on the Hudson, a whopping 155 lived,
And here in the Caribbean, 50,000+ graves we dig.
We interrupt this coverage, for politically charged ads,
And return to a solitary daughter lost in rubble, and one camera loving dad.
American lives are not worth more than those digging up bodies with Haitian hands.
I'm just dermis and calcium, feather on air,
An exoskeleton of concrete dust, I'm barely there,
The octogenarian of pain, lost the ability to care.
An eight hundred millionaire, arguing for a pathetic half hour,
While I'm rescued from darkness, claustrophobia and silence after 50+ hours.
There is no god, there is sorrow.
We must warn you of the intensity of these death filled images,
Keep that reality blindfold on your fat faced kids.
Our developed lives will never be like this, so don't think-of-it.
The deepest black hole in space has to compete with a mass grave.
Resorting to civil war medicine and the limbs that it takes.
Is this sympathy or apathy that I have made?
I can't imagine any future, in this recently quaked head,
In a world where abandoning god is easier than abandoning debt.
I know that without any god, I'll still receive peace in death.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
