Gonzo Marketing:Winning Through Worst Practices The Bombast Transcripts: Rants and Screeds of RageBoy
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Wednesday, June 05, 2002
There You Go Again...

11:31 PM | link |

Sonde Mirori Legba - Open the Gate

Erzulie Legba

watching love die
the tribes begin
to gather

10:59 PM | link |

Instant Recall - for Lauren
It is hard to imagine you being gone.
Far easier myself.
Not left for some long trip
or even moved away to another place,
but gone somewhere no one can say:
not coming back.

We know death is real.
We know it waits for us
no matter how good we have been,
no matter how worthy
or how hard we may have tried to understand.
It is not its cruelty
that prevents imagination
but a sadness too large to fit
these rented rooms,
these borrowed bodies,
these eyes I see you with today.

So I picture how you'd see me
looking back:
a man of foolish dreams
who nonetheless knew them
for what they were.
Lunch in the afternoon sometimes
with the baby asleep.
Maybe even watch the soaps
sitting in the big chair,
just to share a story
no matter how badly told.
Or a walk in the woods
by some lake we'd found.
Here, look:
can you see how the fish
are floating through the trees?
How the trees unfurl themselves
like the sky on fire?

A joke that neither of us could remember
hangs in the air of the empty room
like a lonely and speechless apparition
longing to touch your face,
to comfort again the wound
it could never cure.
But tried. And that was enough.
Joy always hurts the most to bid farewell.

These little things
that make our life
are precious to me
beyond all value.
This little time we have
cannot be weighed or measured
by any scale.
This one small life is as much
happiness as I can hold.

Sometimes I forget.

Today we will take a ride somewhere perhaps.
Today we are here together and alone.
And I cannot say to you what I really feel.
I do not know why this world is the way it is.
But I believe it is.
I feel it.
Oh remember me now, not later
when we can no longer speak or cry
for the dream we foolishly dream together now.

Remember I love you.

2:08 AM | link |

Monday, June 03, 2002
Manifesto, by Isabella Rossellini
I started wearing it last year and I love it. I think it brings out my girlish grace and charm. All the guys at the WTO demonstrations stop in mid-Molotov-cocktail hurl to shout, "Say, who's wearing the Manifesto?"

8:12 PM | link |

Sunday, June 02, 2002
It was like November here today. Driving across town at 3:30, the mountains wreathed halfway to their roots in cloud, snow on the ground, raining. Later the sun came out, though it was still cold. Not spring weather at all. Not May. I wish we had a little cabin up in the hills here, back behind the Front Range, like I was saying, remember? And we could have gone there today and been happy to be holed up together with a pile of dry firewood and a good wood stove. A comfy bed, if a little small, here, can you fit if you snooch up real close? There. And what were you saying I say. And what happened then? You are telling me some great story that just goes on and on and gets better as it goes, me holding you, arms wrapped around and I'm starting to drift, because there is nothing I like better than a good story and I fall asleep to them so I'll never have to hear the ending. So relaxed and I'm dreaming something that goes along with your voice, odd things beginning to happen in the plot, like why suddenly so many elephants? Or us walking by some lake in some forest the sun going down and just looking at each other in a way that says... what? and when I wake up you are looking down on me sleeping there with that exact same look. Me looking back at you.

I was just dreaming this, only there was a lake where the stove is, I say. Oh really, you say. How big? Here, let me show you I say and I start drawing a map of the dream on your belly. It begins here. Yes. and then it sort of curves around down to here. Yes! And then it loops back around up to these mountains, here. Those aren't mountains, you say. Well, just pretend for now that they're mountains. Suspend your disbelief. And you say, you're not going to get all theological on me at a time like this, are you? But you also say, oh alright, they're mountains then, and then what? Then, I say, a BIG FLOOD comes! Making waves all over you, demonstrating. Oooh, that is big, you say. Did it flood all the way down to the southern end? What, down here you mean? I say. Yes it did in fact. Down here, showing you where, is where the flooding actually began. But you're skeptical. I thought it was from all the rain, you say. No, I explain, it was from a giant trouser snake that got loose somehow from the local zoo. Of course, being the curious type, you want me to show you where the zoo is. I do, but you say wait a minute, the snake is still here! So it is, I say. must have come back here after the BIG FLOOD. This is not enough for you, though. Explanations are never enough. I don't get it how a snake can cause a flood you say. Show me. You're from Missouri. On the map. Well, I say, it starts with a lot of wind up here in the mountain region. And rain. I make it rain on your mountains and then blow across them. A cooling wind. Refreshing. Oh, that's nice you say. I can feel the waters rising already. Yes, I say, now you begin to understand what part the snake plays in it. Not really, you say, where does he go? He goes in this cave here, see? First he just sticks his head in there to have a look around. Snakes like it all wet, so he has to make sure. He can feel that it's nice and wet, so he goes in a little further. I like this snake you say. He has the right attitude. Yes, he does, doesn't he? And encouraged by your enthusiasm for the story, I get a little deeper into it. He flicks out his tongue. You know that snakes can smell in the dark with their tongues, right? Oh yes, I know, you say. Does he do it a lot? He has to, I say. To get his bearings. The snake tastes something good, right at the entrance to the cave and so there's a whole lot of tongue flicking and tasting going on. I can see that, you say. And you say, Oh! I say, and see, what was just a tiny stream is turning into a pretty good creek. Ummm, you say. Yes! But actually, I say, it starts way up here, where your eyes are. Looking to check. You looking back. I touch between your eyebrows. In here. And something about the looking makes the snake and the map and everything evaporate, and I am fucking your sweet cunt deeper, you thrusting up onto me, helping it, sucking and eating my cock into you. Oh yes. Sliding together so well so deep your well. until... oh starting to. Yes. There. Ah girl your puss your cunt your eyes your tits and energy circling us right through, deeper and stronger and you begin to go and feeling it inside you gripping me pulling me feeling you going I am going oh oh shooting all of it up into you into our spasm oh coming oh coming oh come with me come with you.

[...white light...]

Let me catch my breath, you say gasping, me gasping too. Oh! Oh! That was a hell of a story, you say. Tell it to me again.

3:34 AM | link |

Lost all the comments here, as BlogBack seems to have gone defunct. For now, send mail instead.

3:12 AM | link |

Trapped In The Mirror
"A narcissist tends to have transient social relationships since few wish to abide by her rules. She has quick enthusiasms, business associates but few friends. Her closest are other narcissists who keep a comfortable distance while exchanging gestures of mutual admiration. Neither makes emotional demands on the other. ...Often, her mate is the child of a narcissist, already indoctrinated to regard exploitation and disregard as love."

"Although the overall picture of narcissism can be readily understood, small details of behavior are inexplicable. There is no rational explanation for what a completely self-centered person will do. What they themselves say about it later bears no relation to the original motivation. They often surrender to overpowering impulses based on distorted, one-sided, and limited perceptions."

12:08 AM | link |

"RageBoy: Giving being fucking nuts a good name since 1985."
~D. Weinberger
28 October 2004

Chris Locke's photos More of Chris Locke's photos

Until a minute ago, I had no photos. I still have no photos to speak of. I don't even have a camera. But all these people were linking to "my photos." It was embarassing. It's still embarassing. But I'm used to that.

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