one. gonzo

I am incidentally someone very important I could possibly grow up to be the next mother Teresa, and that my friends is hope. Reality is the lack of hope. I know I won’t ever be mother Teresa. I won’t be the pope. I won’t be king john the second, at least in this time period.
    
Reality is that anything possible and with anything comes nothing.
Its impossible for plain yellow pumpkin to become a golden carriage impossible things happen everyday.
Cinderella the TV broadcasted musical starring Brandy and Whitney Houston.
    
Explain to me the idea of remakes. What is the point of re making something that was already made. Is it to show your hack talent for stealing copying and reproducing the same concept? I see the hope that maybe your version will change the world. Maybe the way you see things really does matter.
    
Honestly, no one has ever made a reputable remake of anything. This excluding the idea of movies into book, book into movie, into musical, into dance, into my personal homemade porno featuring music by onigo bongo. That’s a whole different concept, the difference is the person that makes the movie based on the book will be forgotten the writer will become famous depending on how good the movie, musical was.
    
People want big ideas, high concept, nothing that makes them think out loud too much. Generalization. I want something that makes me think the only reality and truth I know.
    
What confuses me is the idea that anyone finds anything about my atypical life interesting. If I find it interesting does that make it interesting?
Useless thoughts. More drugs pleas, more life, more reality TV.
    
All Reality T.V. is Scripted.

And may be I should hire someone to write the script of my life. Someone should follow me around takes notes. That someone should be me should be you.    
    
I think reality is creating something relevant poignant of whom you are what you want to be. You’re idealistic future. You’re own radiohead song.
    At twenty-one I still love playing pretend. Ever watch on of those behind the music shows. Ever started to think inside your head what people would say about you. All Behind the music, e true Hollywood shit is scripted.
    
Prepare yourself, make sure you’ve thought out what you would say when they ask, “So what was it like to kill your mother, Mr. Norman bates?”
    And I say. “ I’m melting. I’m melting.”

Oh what a world.




two. Turn the page.
Dissolve. Cross fade.  Black out. Regain strength. Gather all you’re muster. Shocking sells money. Marilyn Manson knows this. Adolph Hitler knew this. Gangas Khan. Mother Teresa.
My mother bought mother Teresa’s biographry. I read Clive barkers the hell bound heart. I watch stellar movies like demon night. And my mother is reading the life and times of mother Teresa. I think about decapitating her head. I have spent years in therapy trying to figure out why I hate her.
Teenage Angst.

Yeah, that’s really it.
I fucking meditate for all you know I was smarter then you when I was two. I didn’t waste my time, my life make a documentary about New York City’s homeless. Saving mass amounts of newspaper clippings about George the 17-year-old runaway heroin addict the lives outside your apartment. Real original. A documentary about addicts, depressives, and schitzos .

    What if I told Mother Teresa that helping people isn’t why you’re famous why people love you? Its all the sick people their stories, their chaos, That’s what people find interesting that’s what pays your hotel bills.

    Old people are clueless. Useless. And they should all be shot in the head as the sleep on orthopedic beds.
When I’m an old I will become a fulltime heroin addict.  See I’ll be near death this is the perfect time to become a heroin addict, become a bum. I’ll be helping some Mother Teresa pay her rent.
    We are all connected by money. Spell check.
    We are all connecting by money. What a difference.
I help you. You help me. We shelp along. Same old. Same old.
This when the book gets boring. Just writing that the book is getting boring it gets more boring and now your thinking what a fucking piece of crap wait it I’ll get interesting right now.

I lit my best friend James back yard lawn on fire. He had one of those open pits  in his back yard.  I just threw a bunch of Kerosene on the fire and the fire went all over. The lawn caught on fire. We just stomped it out. Imagine if I burned down his whole house, killing is grandma who lives upstairs, and when looking though his grandma upstairs apartment they’d find piles and piles of newspaper article clippings about homeless people in a burnt proof room.
I just sold a million copies. Cash my check. Do a dance. Smash your head through bullet proof glass.




Manifest Destiny.

    The name of the book, the title is Manifest Destiny. The book is about manifest destiny. You know, The American dream. What every movie made in America is apparently about. Propaganda. Horror flicks are made about the fear of the American dream. I hate saying typing thinking about those two words, so in other words I will say manifest Destiny and you can think American dream if you’re not really sure what manifest destiny is. Pick your substitution.
    
Romance flicks or also know as chick flicks are about the love of manifest destiny. Action flicks – Act of Be. Drama- Create, complicate, and cancel—the three c’s to understanding this tangent, you’re reading. No one around me speaks in tangents, I’m pretty sure I’m from the tangent alien Womb causing caner and emphazema wherever I go.
Follow that then right your own book.
    
In 2004 May, I was 17. I entered an acoustic band concert called Massapequa MTV unplugged. My band never existed it didn’t work. NO it did. Heather asked me to prom I turned her down with I’m going with another girl and later showed up at prom with a boy. I was a smart bitch even then. Played my games like a champ. Sometimes the game is too smart, too complicated.
    
What do you know about the phrase?
Do the curtains match the drapes? Time for the SATS.

Please Wait till an instructor said's you can go on.
STOP.
1, Curtains match the drapes.
A) Women’s hair to pubic hair
B) Spam I mean same
C) Window still to fire place
E) Cancer to your mother’s gay face.
Go ahead say it
Malarkey. Chaos ensues

    Laughter ensues; I won’t explain any of this in class. You CUNT you demon cunt. No you don’t look like prince charming. Everyone at NYU looked extremely stupid and done but had some genius. Other wise how did they get into that school?
    Yours the ability to push people away.
    Feelings are only yours and no ones fault you’re reaction is your own no one matters but you.
    Be your own god. Eat your vegetables of I turn them into Puree and sneak them into Windex you’re food. Hell I’d Windex you’re eyes to bleed because.
THIS is love. Poetic Justice.
Someone said you’re like Winona Ryder.
You hope from the movie
Heathers the greatest film ever created. Music, color and mean Girls. The first film about bitched and everybody wanted to one.


Dear Winona Ryder,
    I steal too; people say I look like you. You’re beautiful if you want a lesbian life partner, I’m you’re girl. I’ll be good to you. Plus, if you are not a lesbian can you set me up with Lindsay Lohan.
                Love Forever’s,
                    Karen Carpenter…. Liz <3
This screams candy corn today might be the greatest day or you’re life. Who could solve anything better?
                /////writing as a coping mechanism is fucking dangerous. You said I only want him if he wants me. You want. You get.
    720 Silly copers smoke mad $50 Gees. I’m a failure. I am a success. I am guilty of being the best.
Take acid write Alice in wonderland. Dye your hair black. Write the bible. Lose your mind- Disappear here.
Draw a line, dotted a dotted line.

Dyslexia- is pretty sure I have it in words and numbers.
    REALLY FUCKS MY JOB PERFORMANCE.



Sexual conception for crazy people.

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