Saturday, May 31, 2003
So far, not one ex-zinester has made a successful transition to the Web.
The primary reason for this is that most zinesters weren't even successful within the Mongoloid Sandbox known as zinedom, so it's natural that they'd be greeted with the same cavernous disinterest they dealt with while xeroxing and stapling their self-expressive asswipe at Kinko's.
I used to be known as the King of Zines, a title I bore with the same pride as if I'd won the Gold Medal in the Special Olympics.
I am not yet King of the Web. It's an entirely different monster than the print medium, a fact which I'm only starting to grasp. It's a new language for me. But although I don't own much, there are two things I possess to which almost all other zinesters seem immune:
1) will
2) ability
Y'alls can talk all the shit you want.
But I still get more hits per day than you get in a lifetime.
Posted by jg @ 11:18 PM PST []
Friday, May 30, 2003
I need to change my addictions.
Can't change being an addict. My brain's circuitry is welded irrevocably toward obsessiveness. There's a restlessness in my mind that needs to seize things and strangle the juice out of them until there's nothing left. I can't live easy.
Believe me, I've tried.
Yeah, yeah, Jim the bullying asshole...I wish. The thing that has caused the most damage to me in my life has been a suicidal lack of assertiveness when it counted. A killer instinct when I could have used one. Forget the temper tantrums for a second—in all the ways that count, I've been too considerate to others and way too hard on myself.
You better duck when I learn to use my addictions to my advantage.
Posted by jg @ 07:26 PM PST []
Thursday, May 29, 2003
I was standing outside Dante's in downtown Portland a few days ago when this homeless woman in her mid-30s or so...not totally hagged-out but still showing the cumulative effects of about a thousand meth-pipe hits...walked up and said, "Is this where all the homos hang out?" I looked at her, somewhat startled and amused. Then she said, "You ARE a homo, right?" I just laughed, and she walked away yelling something about fags.
This is the best magic trick I've seen on the Web.
Posted by jg @ 12:27 AM PST []
Wednesday, May 28, 2003
Can't we all just get along?
In my tireless crusade to foster human understanding, I unveil for you the Schwarztika, pictured at left. By fusing the Star of David with the Swastika in a ying-yangy, dualism-smashing way, it reconciles two sides previously thought to be irreconcilable. As such, the Schwarztika is the ultimate anti-racist symbol and is suitable for T-shirts and lapel pins.
C'mon, all ye Germans and Jews, let's shake hands and make our new slogan "Never say, 'never again'!" Let's put aside our differences and take over the world together!
Posted by jg @ 06:45 AM PST []
Tuesday, May 27, 2003
A ghastly addendum to the other day's story about hanging out with Shon and the dogs: His Boston Terrier Busta (pictured right), who is over two years old and has never been laid...and who DESPERATELY NEEDS TO GET LAID, at least judging by how he always tries to jam his pink slimy dogpecker up my pug's twat within two seconds of being in the same room with her...ejaculated on my couch. That's right—in the midst of an extended attempted-rape scene featuring Busta as the would-be rapist and Cookie as the would-be rapee, a few quick streams of a gel-like substance shot from Busta's pointy li'l schvanz, landing in splotches all over my couch. It wasn't piss. Shon concurred that Busta had probably experienced the sexual ecstasy of an orgasm. Luckily, it's a vinyl couch, so after commanding Shon to clean it up, things are mostly back to normal...although there are likely hundreds or thousands of dead microscopic Boston Terriers still encrusted on that cushion.
Posted by jg @ 04:20 PM PST []
I'm now down in the cgi-bin. It's like being in the K Hole.
My computer ignorance continues to depress and embitter me. It was only today that I realized my e-mail program saves all attachments in a folder until you delete them. That's where I chanced upon these gang-bang pictures. I have no idea who sent them to me, I don't recall ever receiving them, and I'm half-scared to try and trace them to their source. A hotel of buck-naked, buck-white, buck-smelly humanfolk grinding sausage against tuna. I wish that these photos showed these people actual size so I could crush them on my computer screen with my thumb.
Who would have sent these to me? And what's worse to ponder--was this a come-on of sorts, an e-mailed orgy invite? Did they think I'd be aroused by two bedfuls of squirming worms? Makes me wanna unbuckle my capillary-crushingly tight jeans and slither on in bed there with them.
These pictures aren't a bad backdrop for me to talk about my colon. I go through more binge/purge cycles than Liza Minnelli. One day I'm a buff-but-chub 210 lbs., next I'm about 150 and looking like something standing in line at Buchenwald. Next day, I'm chub again. Since my father died of colon cancer and I don't want to, I'm currently on a colon-blasting routine, pounding down pysllium-laden protein shakes daily and leaving a jungle swamp's worth of reticulate pythons for the toilet bowl to deal with. But at this point, I've blown through all the Anacondas that are gonna come out. Now it's down to a solid black wedge of fecal cheese that refuses to leave. I can feel it when I press down on my stomach.
Just thought I'd share that with you.
Posted by jg @ 12:40 AM PST []
Monday, May 26, 2003
thanks to Nordy for this:
Posted by jg @ 03:37 PM PST []
While waiting at the Burgerville drive-thru today with my friend Shon*, he uttered words of flesh-searing significance:
"Sometimes, I just don't know what I'm doing."
That is, of course, the primary condition of being human—not knowing what you're doing. Having no fucking idea why you're here...but needing to know...but being unable to ever know...and so pretending.
As we sat there with our faggy dogs in our laps, Shon also said that the word "diary" is too feminine and should be replaced with the word "journal." I think "journal" is too grey...and I promised never to use the "b" word...so I'm sticking with "diary."
The Dallas Mavericks lost today, and I was naturally saddened, because they have more white guys than any other team still in the playoffs. Even at the height of my Malcolm-X-reading, Raiders-shirt-wearing, hip-hop-listenin', wiggerish peak in the late 80s, I'd still get a mild upsurge of pride whenever I'd see a white guy making a basket.
It was around that time that I started to realize that people, even against their better wishes, are tribal creatures.
It was many years earlier that I realized I'd never belong to any tribe.
Today's Racial Survival Tip: If a group of black people is chasing you, jump in the water. (They have trouble swimming.)
*[I don't approve of the way he spells his name, but there's no talking sense to him about it.]
Posted by jg @ 04:09 AM PST []
Sunday, May 25, 2003
I will never use the word "blog," except for right there.
I have never used an emoticon, and I'm not about to start.
The words "nigger" and "cunt" will be used for comical purposes only and not as terms of disdain toward those who, as fate would have it, were born with different skin and genitals from mine.
I will not beat women while in the process of making my diary entries.
I will not interrupt the writing of my diary entries to masturbate.
I will pepper my prose with adorable words I've coined such as "jerkasaurus," "poopnut," and "reniggerated."
I will try to start fewer sentences with the word "I."
Even if you think I'm talking about you, I'm not talking about you.
I'll answer your e-mail one of these days, if I feel up to it.
Posted by jg @ 12:47 AM PST []
Saturday, May 24, 2003
funny anti-domestic-violence TV ad ... and another
i mean, the bitch DID spill the coffee...
[thanks to djd for these links]
Posted by jg @ 12:59 AM PST []
Friday, May 23, 2003
I'm starting to like ice cream better than pussy.