infinite anthology: day 180

infinite anthology: day 180.

moving

my content including some of my old features will be making the move to surrealisticsharks.wordpress.com. feel free to follow.

-CR

listology, pt. 1

1) there is a god. god is love.

2) i am not god. this does not give me license to be a complete asshole.

3) you are not god. shut up.

4) eat and drink anything. eventually, you’ll like it.

5) the only education is self-education. read daily. you will still always be, at best, stupid.

aTx

they smoke weed
in their backyards,
keep austin weird
on their compact cars,
bad haircuts,
tattoo sleeves,
indie rock,
&
black
blue jeans.

wear their vintage clothes
out on friday nights,
whiskey dive bars
pocketful of lights,
at friend’s
live shows with
their backstage pass
dr pepper
&
a double jack.

they paint abstract
in the nude
eat lucky strikes
&
vegan food.
take coffee breaks
at the cafe,
&
they say:

we’re weird

but they’re all the same.

rebel without a cause

i’m tired.

it’s this scene

&

this house

&

this mouse.

this music, this whiskey,

&

these spent cigarettes

soaked in broken

longneck bottles.

these half-hearted

wannabe hippie

nicotine dreams

all ashes now,

because we’ve got

this pet mouse here in rip city

who burned down our house

that we always called james dean

&

it wasn’t his fault really

but i’m actually kinda glad

because it’s time for me

to get the hell out of Portland.

Weezer vs. Yr Gameboy

Check out this bit of 8 bit goodness. Covering some songs from Rivers Cuomo’s outfit. If you’re not convinced this is worth your time, check out the intro to Island in the Sun.

-CR

/ 4 \

tequila notebook {4}

i saw those blinking lights again last night.

i had seen my stalker again earlier down by the swimming pool. she had been at the hole in the wall too. she was an american & had bleached blonde hair that was pulled back by a pair of designer sunglasses

her roots splayed out looked like mangrove trees. she wasn’t unattractive, so i was content to talk. i understood the thing she had done with her sunglasses.

my hair is long and dirty like a hippies now. i am constantly searching for things to keep it out of my face.

anyways, i had been taking a walk on the nature path near sunset and I was sure that I had seen her again behind me. but it was just a crocodile.

i considered merging with her and the crocodile like I saw once of the cover of the codex seraphianus, but instead I ran.

it was darker now and i was being chased down an incline by a bicyclist with a colt .45 strapped to the side of his hip. he thought I was trying to escape. maybe I was.

he caught up eventually and shot me in the head. i bled all over the brick paved concrete. the road turned red. watusas came by & ate my flesh.

chepogwa took a wheelbarrow & carried me back to the ocean. he dumped my body in the salt. i’m dead now.

i saw the lights. not right before i died but chasing me down the hill. the watchmen here carry flashlights.

i don’t expect i will be writing anymore. it is difficult to procure a pen or paper in the afterlife.