I had another stange dream last night...
I slept over Kevin's last night. The matress was hard as a rock. He didn't stop making music until 12. I was in bed by 11:15.
I made a bid on a Roland Tr-8 last night with 707 expansion. Lost an hour later.
Thought about Gina last night. She has an esty page. I might want to buy a $30 art piece of her. I stalked her Facebook page. Glad she has a boyfriend. Relief.
In my dream, Donald Trump was to debate a public high school. I was there for some reason rushing towards the hall. the room was packed with about 200 people. Turns out, Trump is rather debating "the world." Trump is in the center, while an individual of each country debates him one-on-one. There was about 13 other "countries." The "protesters," or black girls, left the room in anger that they could not protest Trump. They thought there was no reason to fight agiasnt him. Eventually, 17 other people were left in the room. All laid on the ground watching Trump. Each smoking pot from their pipes. The room was dark. I remember going up to each of the blazed students and asking "who is in it for an orgy?" I want sex. So, it's not suprise I ask from students who already feel "liberated" from pot.
I saw this one girl smoking pot. I wanted to punch her in the face. Still mad at her.
Dexter, the tall black kid, was the only one intrested in an "orgy." He kept falling me, repeating, "orrrrgggyyyy." Disgusting. He probabley wants to fuck me in the ass.
Also I remember asking a favor for these two fat plumers. I could not go see Trump speak, unless I cleaned the floor. I saw both two dumpy janitors and asked them to clean the floor for a dollar. They cleaned the floor fast with a "detox" vacume.
I rushed to the Trump audatorium. No one was there yet, but the protesters getting I ready. I then rushed back to homeroom to see if the janitors were ok.
One of the janitors was dissapointed. He wanted his $1 for some reasom. I gave it to him. The older one said, "No need to return! Life is full of dissapointments. You get what you get." The dissapointented janitor was sobbing. The other one patting him on the back. The cleaned the floor already. No use for them to do it for free.
Yesterday, I was in the car with the family. I was up front. Dad, about to go, asked, "where's the money?" I said, "there it is!" in my usual retarded voice. It was a dollar bill, used for toll money. "No! That's not it you dick!" Dad always says.
Later, when the recpeit came, Dad said "It would be funny if you said 'there is the money' right now. I need it for the tip."
This was not yesterday. It was two days ago at Calirfornia Pizza Kitchen.
My dream ended with the orgy scene. I masturbated to Gina twice last night. The first one was looking up porn of "emo bbw" on xvideo. She looked sort of like gina. Second time was just thinking about her.
...I know why Kevin pisses in water bottles. The toilet is broken. He is afraid to tell anyone. Or at least pay the landlord.
Yesterday was the first.
I left the wifi button on and the battery drained anyway. Even if this is off! Make sure I switch to wifi off when the Freewrite is not in use.
I haave been depressed for the past two weeks. My writing habit slided a bit after the send button fiasco. I was suppose to go to the counter- currents New York meeting, it did not happen. Instead, we went to go see a dying grandma.
I hate my grandma.
I never had a connection with her. Her burden is a burden on the whole family. An asscioation I don't want to asscioate with.
Mom has been traveling everyday to the hospital since last Friday. It's like she could die anyday. I hopefully want her too. I don't know what is her meaning in life anymore.
She has depression. I know it. Mom is usually in denial or ignorant about things.
I just came back from a lonely walk in the park at Valley Forge. I saw Washington's house. It was the place back in 1998 I would hang around with my brother and think about Super Smash Brothers. My mind was rather focus on video games at the time. I also have a good memory: Kevin playing smash bros in the basement. He just unlocked Jigglypuff by beating the game. He was playing with her at the Zelda castle stage in pratice. I had ketchup and chips, watching from the staircase. Kevin repeating the jigglypuff song.
My mind is foggy at the moment. I'm not sure if it's sadness or short attention span. Maybe boredom. I can't see either. I can see by squiting a bit at the screen and the keys. My back is hunched over.
Also turns out rain and thunder at Cape May, New Jersey this week. I was suppose to go on a beach daytrip with her. Mom said it might be best to call the place and ask to go instead on July 17th. I texted Alice about it. She said it's up to me. I might just have to call in and ask for a transfer.
I'm writing for the sake that I don't have much to write about. I want to write because I want to train my brain and fingers to get every possible thought down without pain or block. Writer's block is a myth. It is the action of getting on the keyboard and writing down every possible thought. I already feel accomplished that I started a blogspot a few weeks ago. I am happy to look over my thoughts I recorded days ago and reflect on it. Reflection is the important thing to have to develope. All painted art takes practice. Writing a langague takes practice too.
I've been looking into the mirror later often then I should. I feel ugly that I wear glasses and have wavy, round hair. I know some white girls are into that... the "emo" type and all. But their not my type anyway. I think I am not using the right shampoo. I need to comb it with some gel or cut the back side of my hair.
Kevin records his daily events with snapchat. I wanted to write about how the phone is changing the way we record langauge. Having snapchat is even better than punching keys. It's good so that stupid people can get off the typewriter and into performance art. Punching keys will come the passion of fuddy-duddie elites. It is best to start training now.
I am not sure if I will ever learn DVORAK or COLEMAK. The Freewrite keyboard is QWERTY by default. It's like i'm hitting keys without any
mallet hetting one another, but there are not any. Akward. This is a make- believe machine. I write at a normal and consistent speed. Every orator speaks slow anyway. Some, like Jonatahn Bowden, just make it up on the spot, improvise and act. I guess that also makes good key punching too.
I forgot how much I like Baylee Lee. A dominican-American porn actress I liked since I was 15. I watching a clip she did for Pizza man porn. When the titfuck was about to begin, she said "I hope you don't sweat on me."
"No I won't babe."
"I hate when it drips on me. Why are you going slow? Go faster, you dumbass!"
She is human after all. The best prositutes are those with feelins of integrity. Perverts wants docile Japanese teens or fat blonde cheerleaders. These girls have no spirtural worth. Baylee has power. She loves what she does. She knows how to fuck. Complaining at her stud makes her powerful and real. The man will try to do his best to fuck her. Baylee has been with better guys then him. Good porn has an aesthetic. I wish I lived the exiting life of a prositute... Travel, lovers, food, fame, adventure...
Some people claim to have an adventorous life. Some believe they live it and justify it (criminals). Some people say it is the hierachy of life. Those who have adventure and those who don't.
Is it really "adventorous" to protest Donald Trump? Not really. It's a social narrative.
It's adventorous like the names implies. To kill, have sex, eat food, go to exotic palces, show some conifedential power, to fight, to be proud who you are.
Most adventorous people are ordinary. Baylee is an ordinary American woman doing what she loves as a profession. Adventure soon follows. It is the natrual compoetion of nature and the sturggle to survive.
Brown skin women are beautiful. I get high everytime thinking about one...