The Doogie Howser - 04/14/11

(daily intentions or explanations or penthouse variations, no one truly knows, 'specially not me)
#1: Yes I am toning back the output of this here cyberspot because I feel that ultimately this is a futile endeavor. Not that I don't enjoy the fact there's a hundred people that solidly enjoy what it is I do, but I feel like this is such a cluttered and hazy forum (meaning this here interwebs) that I have to pull myself back. Still working though, Southern By Birth - Raven By The Grace Of God number one will be ready either next Friday or in May or this summer or at 3:30 this afternoon. Some things have been going through my head as I diddle with this new fiddle. #2: My dumpster game is weak. I don't even have the right cycles for good days anymore. And on top of that, one of my hottest spots has mad homeless living down by the river by it so you can't get a lot of the good shit I used to out of there. But today it had plenty bok choys and loads of grapes (which are usually not bagged tightly, thus not too great for human eating straight out the bottom of the dumpster, unless you hongry), and then found the secret dumpster full of potato chips and ice cream. I left the ice cream because I wasn't trying to dump 40 pounds of ice cream into the dirt for my pigs. #3: I do these things as breezy easy nonsense gibberishes that I put at Amphetazine.com as well, as the dude that does that has conjured up big plans with me, but shit man, nobody has ever once commented on a single thing I ever put up there. And I can't see the traffic. And who cares about web traffic? Motherfuckers take one idea and turn it into 40 pages to bump up their web hits and completely fucking fakedify actual internet content into pictures of celebrity side boob. Fuck the internet. #4: Been listening to a lot of boom bap lately, actual Nas and BDP and shit and plenty of Ghostface instrumentals, that good old 4th Disciple/Bronze Nazareth offshoot of the RZA's bullshit second-level Wu nastiness. Also found a whole slew of old Boogie Brown beats with that same flavor that I've been writing paranoid ass Alex Jones irradiated seawater end times wars in North Africa rhymes to. #5: "When we start the Revolution, all they'll probably do is squeal," just said Nas in my house speakers stuffed into my tiny camper, blaring myself into deafness, furthering the damage shooting pistols with my dad all the time when I was 16 done did. My bro-in-law was using his smart phone to play those high-pitched sounds to see what everyone could hear and I was out of the game like halfway before everybody else. Fuck hearing things. I heard enough already. #6: Rojonekku Lesson One is The Revolution Will Not Be Digitized. #7: That's the next t-shirt if you ain't know. Buy one of the chicken fighter word fighting arts to the right in the sidebar if you fucking want to. If you don't, fuck it. I'll wear it to the dollar store to buy more notecards. #8: Been five months since I quit drinking, and have been drinking spring waters with a fat sip taken off the top and then filling back up with 100% non-sugared up (or corn syruped) juice. That's my shit now. I can drank like 10 a night, getting up to piss every two hours in my sleep. #9: Struggled with some heavy depression recently after getting out the bed from injury, but started back on my Soul Shine Tonic my plant voodoo wife conjured up for me, plus been eating sardines for the omega juices. Cheap ass fish in a tin keeps me in touch with my SS Va. reckless roughshod doomed from womb to tomb DNA, but also shines the soul. I have been tripping on the radiation seawater though. No, fuck you shima. #10: That's all bros and broschettas. Southern By Birth - Raven By The Grace Is God is gonna be one of those ebook/kindle/cyberbot things which will also be available via pdf through your robot mails. Also gonna be extremely limited edition hand-numbered joints available somehow, I ain't even sure yet. World might end tomorrow, ya dig?