Saturday, April 17, 2010

34th Post, Act Five

"There is no grace in act five
Only the nerves, insect-like twitches
Involuntary bowel movements, and confusion
a snail in salt doesn't fall asleep
with a half-smile
like Grandma from the after-school special
it twists and contorts
it jerks and writhes for some time
like a living severed limb on fire"
-Act Five, Why?

And that's how it ends, Donald. I'm not going to let this blog just peter out, with no official ending. I'm going to confidently shout it while I sit on a cannon firing fireworks into the dark, dark skies of the internet. In my hand imagine a bottle of jack with a toothbrush in it. Yes, I'm referencing Kesha. I have to fucking reference her, alright? Kids today aren't going to sit down and read anything that holds the past in high regard.

I wanted these blogs to be something special. A fusion, perhaps, of yesterday's wit and today's pure energy. But you can't have both worlds. You'll create a language no one understands. Too fresh for wizened dry eyes, too analog for a digital crowd. What the fuck does it even mean?

I'm killing this blog, Donavon.
Just watch me do it.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

7 differences between Don and I

There are subtle differences between you and I, Donathy.
Subtle stuff, really.
Heaps subtle yo.
Welcome to the subtle zone.

1.When my fringe gets blown out of the way it reveals a constellation of acne. When your fringe is dramatically swept aside by slow-motion wind it reveals a profitable mining site run by numerous overseas business interests, mostly Japanese.
2. At the end of an episode of Community you rapped in Spanish. A Spanish community once rapped dismissively about me. I thought they were my hombres. They were not. They were El Honkioties.
3.You wake up to a bevvy of bitches and get on with your funsness (fun and business fusion - with an asparagus in walnut oil side-dish). I wake up every morning screaming and almost drowning in night sweats.
4.We both enjoy drawing and, that, that is not a difference...
5.According to a lyric of yours you are "just a n****r with watermelons instead of balls", whilst that was purely hyperbole about your manliness, for me it is a literal and deabilitating medical condition. Famous sufferers of WB^ include Kennedy, Ringo Starr and Ke$ha.
6.You are an Apple and I'm a PC.
7.Eat it bitch, I can't think of a seventh.


"...And what's the deal with this Andrew Murray guy? Dude can't even think of a seventh!... LAUGH DAMMIT!"




^Watermelon Balls

BTW, lover, I'm Bacchus

HIDON
HAPPY WELCOME TO TWENTYTEN.
I'M PART OF THIS THING.
COME TO MELBOURNE AND BUY IT AT STICKY


http://yearoftheshorts.wordpress.com/2009/12/28/2010-preview/



"I really don't care about your life, Murray"