SONG OF THE DAY: El Diario de un Borracho

YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE TO TALK LOUDER
I AM WEARING NOTHING BUT MESH BOXER BRIEFS AND TRYING 
TO DO KETTLEBELL SWINGS IN MY BASEMENT APARTMENT 
LIVING ROOM WHILE WATCHING LUCHA LIBRE 
BUT BLASTING NORTEÑO MUSIC LOUD AS FUCK 
BECAUSE AMERICA HAS TOO MANY LAME ASS 
NEIGHBORS; I SHOULD BE BACK IN THE 
COUNTRY BUT NOBODY CAN AFFORD 
ANYTHING IN THIS PLACE AND
NOW NOBODY CAN LEAVE BECAUSE 
WE'VE FUCKED UP THE PANDEMIC BETTER THAN 
ANYBODY ELSE. AMERICAN EXCEPTIONALISM 
HAS LEFT US MORE DOOMED THAN EVER 
OH WELL, KEEP SWINGING THIS KETTLEBELL 
STUDYING THE TECHNIQUES OF FABY APACHE 
AND THE IMPECCABLE FASHION OF MAXIMO 
AND KEEP TRYING TO GET STRONGER 
AND STUPIDER AND GROW A LONGER BEARD 
AND AVOID DEATH FOR AT LEAST 
ANOTHER 69 HOURS 

PR4CT1C1NG TH3 4NC13NT 4RT...

practicing the ancient art

of stealth existence beyond

spotlight eyes of shinefaced pigs

PHYS1C4L 4PP34R4NC3 0F...

physical appearance of

lethargy and cubicles

destroyed by working it out

JJ Krupert Dec 2017 number two "when i die"

“How ya been livin’ Raven?”

Well, acoustic G.G. Allin really has been resonating with me. That generally in the course of my life is not necessarily a good sign. But also, all signs good and bad are subjective. I desire a numbness that I can’t have, which is perfectly timed with the darkest cold portion of the lunar calendar right before wintertime solstice. Thus, it’s all probably natural. Come springtime, I’m gonna be poppin’ like the redbuds, switching acoustic opioid drone G.G. Allin with some feel-good opioid slur Fat Pat freestyles at the end of Screw tapes (now mp3 files though). But for now, it is the internal land of melancholy, and doing kettlebell swings in the yard plus hindu squats in the house, making the floorboards creak, developing my Russian prisoner body in Goodwill Adidas track pants, no shirt (of course), chanting that ol’ “il ilaha ill’Allah” over and over. What what.

pink buddha backyard sumo

totem, tells me "more squats like

hindu, simple-headed man”