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Hock Your Junk the Easy Way
So, i’ve got this idea for clandestine activities of whatever colours and persuasions you might wish to indulge. We got the Internet, yo! What’s more, we’ve got advanced communication channels, such as Twitter. #1 Define Cryptic Rhetoric “… no [un-encoded] messages on an open channel…” — Saavik
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Time is on Your Side
Ladies and Gentlemen, Let this text be the answer you’ve awaited. Relax, for this people search begs to expedite this minutia of people processing. All that is not in momentum for the betterment of greater goals, I wish to identify, understand, assess, and execute solutions, congruent with your mission statement, the general morale, the company…
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From my Fingers, I Wish. I Could Caress
Manic Depression so named no more Major Depressive; Affective this role. I know what I want but I just don’t know how to go about getting it. Feeling, sweet feeling drops from my fingers: Music. Sweet music, I wish I could caress. I think I’ll go tear-myself-up; go on down Really ain’t no use in…
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The Business of Eynt Noughnyadam
(as it is my own text, I figure it’s fair-enough I re-text it. Actually unlike a Sienfeldian “re-gifting”, likewise, neither the re-tweeting, for “the it” originates from here. “It” is mine-owned. Authored, May 2012.) It’s true: having learned this, not from any legendary stank of fungus; no Funk of Forty-Thousand beers “Roughly equals State’s Tuition!”…
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Fire Safe Cigarettes, and Smoke-free Bars
The Time has Come, I beg this plea Come down now from your Fence. Rise from your knees. Cry ‘Liberty!’ in Civil Disobedience. © 2011, J S
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Situation Normal All Fried Up
Log entry. No. For the trees. Triple. Three ex’s Abbreviate. Sir sit. Sir’s phone Sisters, alone. Chimed in so charming Slowly too low Organ flower sickly cohabited fail alcoholic got into get going waterfowl falling it’s hailing into the crack Mix it up Boy needed “more sax”. Tripled the flex Xxx slut. No twists in…
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Narco Blog
Narcoleptic. Pathetic fuck. Ever present: never. Not worth value. No new news, used to reach the waking hook; this boggled think-thing thoughts, the same. Lines. Far too distant; far to hook. Narco-boggled buried brain, a stranger, in straight in-line Bargain-narc Blasphemer original composition: 2009 04 09modified 2011-04-15
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Buster I. Brown
fate like folly grate Rx enamel squeaks one too many mustn’t sleep copied from elsewhere, as authored I and discovered, only God knows why: the God Damn Fake Rook
About
Published in 2006, What’s On Your Brain is the personal blog of @ajaxStardust
It’s composed mostly prosaic ramblings.
