Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Escape
Escape, Run Away, Run Far, Come with Me. Where we may go, nobody shall ever know, but together we must escape and run away, far away so none can see
Friday, December 11, 2009
A Decade of Well Hidden Darkness
2:19 am, thoughts go round in my head,
making me wish that in some way,
all these thoughts would come to an end.
Reminding me constantly of the obstacles ahead,
slowly the past reassures my constant dread
whose to blame who was right and who was wrong
cant i just please get to bed.
but i cant
and i guess if i keep going like this
i never will.
Take the easy way out and swallow your pills and medications
try and advocate change but your just a victim to anothers false exploitations
a land tainted in ideas laden in the past
we claim to live so free but yet dread everyday to the last.
why do we all follow and conform
when we know deep down inside we may just be all as equally as torn
some hide, some run away, and others face the pain, every single day
your path your decision, no ones right,
but yet everybody seems wrong
entangled in things that shouldn't matter, why don't we all just do what we want and let it all fall to the latter. I mean in the end, does the world really need another doctor, lawyer, or high profile business executive. I don't think so, I think these people have an unnecessary need to exceed those of their fellow humans;to better themselves, and to come off just as that.
When I see a young up and coming man/woman dressed in "professional" attire I just see yet another investor into our ever faltering socio-political structure. But if this is what makes them happy than i see no reason to judge.
It yet reamins that If the bigger picture was within all minds and humans alike the world would be a very very different place. People would then focus on things that they felt were necessary and needed to do for themselves and for humanity as a whole. The enlightenment was preceeded by a dark age of violence, oppression, and death. Similar to todays world, but i think were just a little better at masking it. 2012.
making me wish that in some way,
all these thoughts would come to an end.
Reminding me constantly of the obstacles ahead,
slowly the past reassures my constant dread
whose to blame who was right and who was wrong
cant i just please get to bed.
but i cant
and i guess if i keep going like this
i never will.
Take the easy way out and swallow your pills and medications
try and advocate change but your just a victim to anothers false exploitations
a land tainted in ideas laden in the past
we claim to live so free but yet dread everyday to the last.
why do we all follow and conform
when we know deep down inside we may just be all as equally as torn
some hide, some run away, and others face the pain, every single day
your path your decision, no ones right,
but yet everybody seems wrong
entangled in things that shouldn't matter, why don't we all just do what we want and let it all fall to the latter. I mean in the end, does the world really need another doctor, lawyer, or high profile business executive. I don't think so, I think these people have an unnecessary need to exceed those of their fellow humans;to better themselves, and to come off just as that.
When I see a young up and coming man/woman dressed in "professional" attire I just see yet another investor into our ever faltering socio-political structure. But if this is what makes them happy than i see no reason to judge.
It yet reamins that If the bigger picture was within all minds and humans alike the world would be a very very different place. People would then focus on things that they felt were necessary and needed to do for themselves and for humanity as a whole. The enlightenment was preceeded by a dark age of violence, oppression, and death. Similar to todays world, but i think were just a little better at masking it. 2012.
Monday, December 7, 2009
The Sorry Smile
This is just one of the few errors in the connection between facial expressions and speech in humans:
"The Sorry Smile"
How many times has someone apologized with a smile? This seems fitting as a polite way to let someone know you cant help them, but only a true deviant asks, follows with a sorry, and smiles, assuring the fact that there wish must, and will be commanded.
But why does the inquisitor apologize in an effort to somehow lift the weight of the question/demand but then maniacally smiles, emanating a "fuck your sir, I Win!" grin, bearing incisor teeth and all.......
Us social, "conscious" human beings aught to take a long hard look at ourselves and ask, "Now waaaaaaaait a minute...................why do I do these strange obtruse things I do" and realize that when dealing with a younger generation who constantly abuses the drugs, alcohol, and freedom that our "schooling" has taught us to fear, certain naturally awkward and contradictory things such as, The Sorry Smile, The Refusal Chuckle, and The Guilty Gasp can throw a drunk, "stoned", or rambunktious youngster for a tizzy.
Understanding and awareness are the only things keeping our generations free from equal amounts of physical absurdity and violence with one another. Until next time, never talk to strangers, because they're all drunk.
Jose Luiz
But why does the inquisitor apologize in an effort to somehow lift the weight of the question/demand but then maniacally smiles, emanating a "fuck your sir, I Win!" grin, bearing incisor teeth and all.......
Us social, "conscious" human beings aught to take a long hard look at ourselves and ask, "Now waaaaaaaait a minute...................why do I do these strange obtruse things I do" and realize that when dealing with a younger generation who constantly abuses the drugs, alcohol, and freedom that our "schooling" has taught us to fear, certain naturally awkward and contradictory things such as, The Sorry Smile, The Refusal Chuckle, and The Guilty Gasp can throw a drunk, "stoned", or rambunktious youngster for a tizzy.
Understanding and awareness are the only things keeping our generations free from equal amounts of physical absurdity and violence with one another. Until next time, never talk to strangers, because they're all drunk.
Jose Luiz
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
The Game
Inst it all too familiar seeing that annoying girl/guy obviously flatter a teacher, boss, or similar authority figure, just so they can benefit themselves? My fellow compatriots, this is what I like to call "The Game".
I was first introduced to the game in sixth grade when I was failing gym and tech ed. class and wondering why I wasn't achieving a sky-high GPA like everyone else. My mother enlightened me to the wonderful idea of playing the game. Back then it was simple, get good grades in easy classes that don't matter, so your good grades in your classes "that count" (we'll get to this some other time) aren't squandered by these "meaningless" electives. Sound simple? It is, but the plot thickens.
Fast forward to my lifeguarding career (if you want to call it that) I'm now "watching over" these little bastards and oh look, Mom and Dad decided to stop by. Now inherently I am clearly fucked. My dwindling B.A.C. from the night before, my unkempt beard, and outrageous hair certainly put me at a disadvantage to my two beautiful "co-workers" who are more than happy to jump up meet, greet, and discuss these little bastards kids falsified progresses. None the less I got no tips, and they..........many. Not my first time failing at the game.
The game really is not my thing. And don't get me wrong I love lying. Nothing makes me happier than lying straight through my teeth and having someone take me completely seriously. But this is different. I feel weird even trying to act in accordance with the rules of this game.
To me this "ass-kissing" game is a distant cousin (twice removed) from the systematic get good grades in crappy classes mantra of my pre-teen years. But when does ass kissing come in handy? College.
And thus my faltering situation remains. Help? impossible. What to do. I may never know.
Jose Luiz III
I was first introduced to the game in sixth grade when I was failing gym and tech ed. class and wondering why I wasn't achieving a sky-high GPA like everyone else. My mother enlightened me to the wonderful idea of playing the game. Back then it was simple, get good grades in easy classes that don't matter, so your good grades in your classes "that count" (we'll get to this some other time) aren't squandered by these "meaningless" electives. Sound simple? It is, but the plot thickens.
Fast forward to my lifeguarding career (if you want to call it that) I'm now "watching over" these little bastards and oh look, Mom and Dad decided to stop by. Now inherently I am clearly fucked. My dwindling B.A.C. from the night before, my unkempt beard, and outrageous hair certainly put me at a disadvantage to my two beautiful "co-workers" who are more than happy to jump up meet, greet, and discuss these little bastards kids falsified progresses. None the less I got no tips, and they..........many. Not my first time failing at the game.
The game really is not my thing. And don't get me wrong I love lying. Nothing makes me happier than lying straight through my teeth and having someone take me completely seriously. But this is different. I feel weird even trying to act in accordance with the rules of this game.
To me this "ass-kissing" game is a distant cousin (twice removed) from the systematic get good grades in crappy classes mantra of my pre-teen years. But when does ass kissing come in handy? College.
And thus my faltering situation remains. Help? impossible. What to do. I may never know.
Jose Luiz III
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Hypnosis
and then just like that, they emerged from the swamp. emanating with them the most audibly tantalizing melodies humans could conceive. Bewitched by their music the people started to run, inexplicably forward into the past future and present, they co-existed between the fabrics of space time......
Saturday, September 12, 2009
An American Experience
Sitting on your front lawn,
being racist, drinking beers, till the break of dawn
Trash talking the local knaves,
its our spirits that let us save,
ourselves from our own madnesses
created deep down below
from sometime before
when, we may ever know
Theirs something free
about letting it be
seeing sides, and oppositions
and taking your respective positions
Where we come from
no one knows,
let us be free
or forever burn in effigy
being racist, drinking beers, till the break of dawn
Trash talking the local knaves,
its our spirits that let us save,
ourselves from our own madnesses
created deep down below
from sometime before
when, we may ever know
Theirs something free
about letting it be
seeing sides, and oppositions
and taking your respective positions
Where we come from
no one knows,
let us be free
or forever burn in effigy
From Burlington To Bermuda.............and Back Again
Ah, its a wonderful July afternoon in the hot sun, I do not however, find myself in a manic maze of poorly spaced shoe-box homes, but rather an island some 600 miles east of the United States called "Bermuda". Resting gallantly in the middle of the ocean this island comes complete with all of the amenities of the "civilized" world, grown men wearing knee high socks, greeters, meeters, bell hops, waiters, servers, beach attendants-a literal plethora of servants to accommodate your every request upon "your most pleasant stay"
Upon exiting the overcrowded, swine flu breeding ground (plane) I am immediately hit with the hot tarmac air steaming through my dreary rainy new york jeans and t-shirt. But not to worry, just several steps away large glass doors await me, opening into a corridor cooled to antarctic conditions, ah sweet civilization-right? Wrong.
Actually, flash forward to a week and a half later, I wake up naked with no sheets, in an empty white room with the doors locked. No recollection of before, the present haunts me with uncertainty. Of course, I'm in wonderful Burlington Vermont in the good old U.S. of A. (fuck yeah!) Air conditioning seems like a sweet reminder of luxury and waste, its absence burdens me with thick, searing, crisco-like humidity, and of course a puddle of sweat upon my "rebirth" from the drunken demon ramblings of the night before. If only I could transport myself to a week before, to the sterile clean tile floors of the "room-with-a-view" complete with room service and all of the unnecessary amenities that allowed me to perpetuate my laziness. But nay, nay, nay........
Slowly I sit upright and painstakingly look to my left and find my cell phone, with its blinking red beacon stabbing my tender bloodshot eyes. Trying to crawl and slide along my floor i roll off my deflated air mattress and try to awaken my phone from its rest- of course it freezes with the loading sign spinning endlessly to infinity.
Spinning, concurrent with my head, and my mental state as I take a visit to my friends "male brothel", a sprawling 8 bedroom mansion located just one block south of main street in Burlington. I ruggedly pull up expecting a normal house, and I am shocked with awe, inspiration, and an innate sense of nostalgia.
It was as if the party came and never left. There wraparound porch was jam packed with 1001 wonderfull stories of just how all of that shit may have possibly ammassed there. Words can never fully convey the madness of there porch. Let me begin by saying this, there was seafood:mussells half eaten roasting in the hot sun. The smell of low tide permeated your senses whilst you looked over the madness of beer cans, ciggarette packs, lone shoes, underwear, ponchos, a parachute, mangled bicycles, a hammock, some stolen bar stools, and someones dirty and thoroughly soaked laundry. All leading up to a wide open door.................
Compare this to the on-lockdown conditions of the upper classes of Bermuda with there pastel-colored houses, expensive insurance, banking, and investment jobs, high real-estate prices, and there ever-increasing oppression towards the trapped working class. They seek to eek out the extraneous ends of there society; the dirty people who don't attract the famous tourists, there wealth, and the 16 dollar hamburger.
For some odd reason these contrasts made me realize that Burlington is a place for everyone and anyone who wants to let loose a little and live life in less unconstrained terms.
And how insincere is that hurmuphety attitude that native Bermudians, Conneticut Chateu-country types, and westchester winnies so instinctivley eminate from themselves? Is that who the are? There doors would certainly never be unlocked, there messes never made public. But underneath it all, were all quite the same.............
Jose Luiz
Upon exiting the overcrowded, swine flu breeding ground (plane) I am immediately hit with the hot tarmac air steaming through my dreary rainy new york jeans and t-shirt. But not to worry, just several steps away large glass doors await me, opening into a corridor cooled to antarctic conditions, ah sweet civilization-right? Wrong.
Actually, flash forward to a week and a half later, I wake up naked with no sheets, in an empty white room with the doors locked. No recollection of before, the present haunts me with uncertainty. Of course, I'm in wonderful Burlington Vermont in the good old U.S. of A. (fuck yeah!) Air conditioning seems like a sweet reminder of luxury and waste, its absence burdens me with thick, searing, crisco-like humidity, and of course a puddle of sweat upon my "rebirth" from the drunken demon ramblings of the night before. If only I could transport myself to a week before, to the sterile clean tile floors of the "room-with-a-view" complete with room service and all of the unnecessary amenities that allowed me to perpetuate my laziness. But nay, nay, nay........
Slowly I sit upright and painstakingly look to my left and find my cell phone, with its blinking red beacon stabbing my tender bloodshot eyes. Trying to crawl and slide along my floor i roll off my deflated air mattress and try to awaken my phone from its rest- of course it freezes with the loading sign spinning endlessly to infinity.
Spinning, concurrent with my head, and my mental state as I take a visit to my friends "male brothel", a sprawling 8 bedroom mansion located just one block south of main street in Burlington. I ruggedly pull up expecting a normal house, and I am shocked with awe, inspiration, and an innate sense of nostalgia.
It was as if the party came and never left. There wraparound porch was jam packed with 1001 wonderfull stories of just how all of that shit may have possibly ammassed there. Words can never fully convey the madness of there porch. Let me begin by saying this, there was seafood:mussells half eaten roasting in the hot sun. The smell of low tide permeated your senses whilst you looked over the madness of beer cans, ciggarette packs, lone shoes, underwear, ponchos, a parachute, mangled bicycles, a hammock, some stolen bar stools, and someones dirty and thoroughly soaked laundry. All leading up to a wide open door.................
Compare this to the on-lockdown conditions of the upper classes of Bermuda with there pastel-colored houses, expensive insurance, banking, and investment jobs, high real-estate prices, and there ever-increasing oppression towards the trapped working class. They seek to eek out the extraneous ends of there society; the dirty people who don't attract the famous tourists, there wealth, and the 16 dollar hamburger.
For some odd reason these contrasts made me realize that Burlington is a place for everyone and anyone who wants to let loose a little and live life in less unconstrained terms.
And how insincere is that hurmuphety attitude that native Bermudians, Conneticut Chateu-country types, and westchester winnies so instinctivley eminate from themselves? Is that who the are? There doors would certainly never be unlocked, there messes never made public. But underneath it all, were all quite the same.............
Jose Luiz
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
America, Fuck Yeah!
So now that we have all officially survived the perilous onslaught of fireworks, beer, and poorly cooked grilled goods last weekend, we can now begin to introspectively reflect on the very nature of "our nations" independence day.
First, let us begin with a brief historical lesson, on July 4th a bunch of radical and very courageous men surreptitiously signed a document claiming independence from the British crown. Now some 200+ years later we know this day simply dubbed as "independence day". But we were independent on this day? In theory perhaps, but in reality, hell no, not in 1776.
The treaty of Paris, September 3, 1783 marked the official denunciation of the British Crown from the former colonies (now known as America to some) and our true independence but, there is little drunken revelry, chaos, hoo-raa America chants, or eh, a national holiday on september 3rd. In fact, september 3rd is one of the most de-liberating time periods in young peoples lives, for it is on this day that kids have to reverse there free-thinking radical "Summer-minds" into neo-political hogwash teacher-student talk.
Now lets talk about fireworks. From a normal everyday perspective they seem entertaining, a little wild, and a sign of celebration. Now take a metaphysical perspective. You are an alien and upon your first observation of Earth you see three men. Laden in polo shirts and khaki shorts, beers, and a "Cozys" (a contraption made for beers which locks in the ice cold refreshing taste, sinister schemes, and well you know.......) and they are hooting and hollering all across the street and happen to have brightly colored sticks in there hands.
After running around for about five minutes playing what seems like a mixture of grab ass, duck-duck-goose, and pin the tail on the donkey, one emerges from the group, "Hey y'all lets light these suckers, AMERICA!" the three in perfect unison yelp, "FUCK YEAH!"
They lay out there brightly coloroed sticks and begin to giggle and dart back and forth amongst one another. "Whos got the lighter?!" fingers start pointing, then all hell breaks loose, accusations, murder schemes, the whole nine yards. "Oh my bad, it twas just in my pocket y'all" "You mother fucker!".......a slight pause of silence, then the three banding there mind body and souls together proclaim, "America! FUCK YEAH"
They then very briskly light the three colored sticks and run roughly 1/64 of a parsect away. The colored sticks begin to pop and sizzle, simultaneously accompanied by laughter, gulps of beer, and an immensley powerfull feeling of American patriotism.
Why, my fellow compatriots, I ask, why........
Jose Luiz
First, let us begin with a brief historical lesson, on July 4th a bunch of radical and very courageous men surreptitiously signed a document claiming independence from the British crown. Now some 200+ years later we know this day simply dubbed as "independence day". But we were independent on this day? In theory perhaps, but in reality, hell no, not in 1776.
The treaty of Paris, September 3, 1783 marked the official denunciation of the British Crown from the former colonies (now known as America to some) and our true independence but, there is little drunken revelry, chaos, hoo-raa America chants, or eh, a national holiday on september 3rd. In fact, september 3rd is one of the most de-liberating time periods in young peoples lives, for it is on this day that kids have to reverse there free-thinking radical "Summer-minds" into neo-political hogwash teacher-student talk.
Now lets talk about fireworks. From a normal everyday perspective they seem entertaining, a little wild, and a sign of celebration. Now take a metaphysical perspective. You are an alien and upon your first observation of Earth you see three men. Laden in polo shirts and khaki shorts, beers, and a "Cozys" (a contraption made for beers which locks in the ice cold refreshing taste, sinister schemes, and well you know.......) and they are hooting and hollering all across the street and happen to have brightly colored sticks in there hands.
After running around for about five minutes playing what seems like a mixture of grab ass, duck-duck-goose, and pin the tail on the donkey, one emerges from the group, "Hey y'all lets light these suckers, AMERICA!" the three in perfect unison yelp, "FUCK YEAH!"
They lay out there brightly coloroed sticks and begin to giggle and dart back and forth amongst one another. "Whos got the lighter?!" fingers start pointing, then all hell breaks loose, accusations, murder schemes, the whole nine yards. "Oh my bad, it twas just in my pocket y'all" "You mother fucker!".......a slight pause of silence, then the three banding there mind body and souls together proclaim, "America! FUCK YEAH"
They then very briskly light the three colored sticks and run roughly 1/64 of a parsect away. The colored sticks begin to pop and sizzle, simultaneously accompanied by laughter, gulps of beer, and an immensley powerfull feeling of American patriotism.
Why, my fellow compatriots, I ask, why........
Jose Luiz
Friday, July 3, 2009
The Drag
So its 10:48 am, your hungover to the point of paralysis and regardless of your poisonous intake of yesternight you feel like a million bucks..........in debt. Stumbling around the strewn about clothes peppered amongst your floor you try and "Kieth Richards" your way to the bathroom
For those of you who don't know what "Kieth Richardsing" is, its that drunk delusional state where you cant seem to stand up on your own two feet for longer than 2 and a half seconds, making any journey no matter how small or far, a literal free for all. You stamper throughout any room with the utmost lacklusternes for anything around you, everything within reaching distance is a life line, to keep you from falling over, and you stumble in a drunken stupor around and onto everything in your path.
Now, (hopefully without creating any proprietary property damage) your in the coveted palace of poop; your bathroom. Seeing the toilet makes you do one thing; excrete waste. Whether you had a "really fun" night and you puke, or you just had a "good time" and have to pee really bad, you bolt from the door to the toilet like a crack head begging for money.
But that's not even the drag. After your toilet event(s) you take a hard gander into the mirror, for some its, "I'm a bad mother fucker" and for others its a teeming taunt of self conscious malicious loathing to the point of insanity. But for most its, "I look like hell and have no time for a shower, so fuck all those ninny's who stayed in last night" Brushing your teeth (some choose to comb their hair (not I said the Pig)) you again begin to realize how much you already want to stop even though you just started.
This is the first lazy impulse of the drag. You begin to drag, your mental process slows and you realize you dont want to do anything, not brush your teeth, not fix your hair, youd like to roll back the blinds, pull up the covers and spend the next 72 hours sleeping. The drag is that you cant. You have to get up, get out, and do shit you dont want to do.
Why? You may ask my dedicated and devoted debutants of the revolution? It is an effort to, "get that gwap, paper chase, bake bread, cook currency, deliver babys-momma money" or just plain make money.
So we get up, get out that door and head to work. Unless your Hannah Montana or the Jonas brothers it seems as if most of us 16-22 year olds find themselves in a tireless teeming trench of underpaid, boring and useless-as-hell jobs. What to do, you ask?
You go to work under two conditions, one remember the golden rule, dont pay taxes, fuck taxes, you want to pay your taxes, then enlist yourself in the punk bitch line at the check out counter of every supermarket you ever enter......for the rest of your life. Second, you do your job and do it well, but realize when someone gets on your case, ego trips, or is just a straight up bitch, don't fret, cause in a couple years you'll looking back from a high and mighty throne of wealth, drugs, infidelity, and lackluster fame and say, "oh yes, shop rite! i remember when i worked there, when i was a plebeian"
You've got to get up every morning and fight the drag. Some people have coffee, others tea. And then there the brave few who say no to caffeine and yes to some more interesting herbal remedies, but that's another tale for another time.
Fellow compatriots, fight the drag don't let it take you down.
Jose Santa Anna Marie Carlos Ensuelo Catalina Regalia Luis
For those of you who don't know what "Kieth Richardsing" is, its that drunk delusional state where you cant seem to stand up on your own two feet for longer than 2 and a half seconds, making any journey no matter how small or far, a literal free for all. You stamper throughout any room with the utmost lacklusternes for anything around you, everything within reaching distance is a life line, to keep you from falling over, and you stumble in a drunken stupor around and onto everything in your path.
Now, (hopefully without creating any proprietary property damage) your in the coveted palace of poop; your bathroom. Seeing the toilet makes you do one thing; excrete waste. Whether you had a "really fun" night and you puke, or you just had a "good time" and have to pee really bad, you bolt from the door to the toilet like a crack head begging for money.
But that's not even the drag. After your toilet event(s) you take a hard gander into the mirror, for some its, "I'm a bad mother fucker" and for others its a teeming taunt of self conscious malicious loathing to the point of insanity. But for most its, "I look like hell and have no time for a shower, so fuck all those ninny's who stayed in last night" Brushing your teeth (some choose to comb their hair (not I said the Pig)) you again begin to realize how much you already want to stop even though you just started.
This is the first lazy impulse of the drag. You begin to drag, your mental process slows and you realize you dont want to do anything, not brush your teeth, not fix your hair, youd like to roll back the blinds, pull up the covers and spend the next 72 hours sleeping. The drag is that you cant. You have to get up, get out, and do shit you dont want to do.
Why? You may ask my dedicated and devoted debutants of the revolution? It is an effort to, "get that gwap, paper chase, bake bread, cook currency, deliver babys-momma money" or just plain make money.
So we get up, get out that door and head to work. Unless your Hannah Montana or the Jonas brothers it seems as if most of us 16-22 year olds find themselves in a tireless teeming trench of underpaid, boring and useless-as-hell jobs. What to do, you ask?
You go to work under two conditions, one remember the golden rule, dont pay taxes, fuck taxes, you want to pay your taxes, then enlist yourself in the punk bitch line at the check out counter of every supermarket you ever enter......for the rest of your life. Second, you do your job and do it well, but realize when someone gets on your case, ego trips, or is just a straight up bitch, don't fret, cause in a couple years you'll looking back from a high and mighty throne of wealth, drugs, infidelity, and lackluster fame and say, "oh yes, shop rite! i remember when i worked there, when i was a plebeian"
You've got to get up every morning and fight the drag. Some people have coffee, others tea. And then there the brave few who say no to caffeine and yes to some more interesting herbal remedies, but that's another tale for another time.
Fellow compatriots, fight the drag don't let it take you down.
Jose Santa Anna Marie Carlos Ensuelo Catalina Regalia Luis
Friday, May 1, 2009
a tell tale sign of Debauchery
if theres anything that screams, "we got drunk and fucked shit up last night" it is none other than a hole in a sheet-rocked wall. Despite the multitude of excuses you have for your parents when they finally arrive home such as:
1. i was moving a chair and slipped
2. I was putting the plates away and had a back spasm.
4. i was brushing my teeth and lost control
none seem to completely suffice our older wiser family members. Upon realization of the hole, they will probably assume the worst, which is a correct and considerably rational stance based on the fact the you and your friends got drunk and "fucked shit up"
that being the case, regardless of the level of parental supervision at this point in your life one thing remains. When you walk into a house and there are a large variety of holes ranging from 3 inches, to 3 and a half feet, you know one thing and one thing for certain. These people like to party. and when they do. things get wild.
whether these holes are a legitimate or "justifiable" act solely based on you and your rowdy guests level of intoxication is really of no matter. and the smarter intelligent intellectual in everyone will most likely say, "ah....stupid drunkenness, if only"-blah blah blah bullshit whatever dude, you guys got a little too loose off the liquids, and shit started to break.
you judge a book by its cover. no sweat. this philosophy works for those with holes in the wall. so next time your proverbial Uncle, grandfather, or whatever older "wiser" (in the confucian sense) being in your life begins preach to you about the nature of first impressions, "books-by-covers" and what not, now you can shed light on a once thought poor judge of character and by none other than the most authoritative theory of drunked fist, back, head, and foot holes in you, your friends, or you parents houses......
Jose.
1. i was moving a chair and slipped
2. I was putting the plates away and had a back spasm.
4. i was brushing my teeth and lost control
none seem to completely suffice our older wiser family members. Upon realization of the hole, they will probably assume the worst, which is a correct and considerably rational stance based on the fact the you and your friends got drunk and "fucked shit up"
that being the case, regardless of the level of parental supervision at this point in your life one thing remains. When you walk into a house and there are a large variety of holes ranging from 3 inches, to 3 and a half feet, you know one thing and one thing for certain. These people like to party. and when they do. things get wild.
whether these holes are a legitimate or "justifiable" act solely based on you and your rowdy guests level of intoxication is really of no matter. and the smarter intelligent intellectual in everyone will most likely say, "ah....stupid drunkenness, if only"-blah blah blah bullshit whatever dude, you guys got a little too loose off the liquids, and shit started to break.
you judge a book by its cover. no sweat. this philosophy works for those with holes in the wall. so next time your proverbial Uncle, grandfather, or whatever older "wiser" (in the confucian sense) being in your life begins preach to you about the nature of first impressions, "books-by-covers" and what not, now you can shed light on a once thought poor judge of character and by none other than the most authoritative theory of drunked fist, back, head, and foot holes in you, your friends, or you parents houses......
Jose.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
The Deception of Visual Perception
Once upon a time, in a land not so far away, an obscure vision came betwinxt my very eyes.
Perhaps its all a lie, everything you touch, see, and feel is a deception of our perception.
we base our reality on what we see. "All you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be"
i tend to disagree. Theirs more to life than the visual and aesthetic characteristics that we hold so necessary in our minds.
Blind people cant see, but they know of the life seeing people live. When we dream our dreams seem so real we get scared, then we wake up-or are we just falling back to sleep again?
scary isnt it?
Perhaps its all a lie, everything you touch, see, and feel is a deception of our perception.
we base our reality on what we see. "All you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be"
i tend to disagree. Theirs more to life than the visual and aesthetic characteristics that we hold so necessary in our minds.
Blind people cant see, but they know of the life seeing people live. When we dream our dreams seem so real we get scared, then we wake up-or are we just falling back to sleep again?
scary isnt it?
Monday, March 30, 2009
Cloudy Skies Welcome Thine Eyes
Sometimes it rains. Sometimes it pours. And other times, its just overcast the whole day. Either way, i love the rain, and the onslaught of overcast, cloudy, dreary-grey skies. you never feel like you should be doing anything else. its kind of like. Whatever, its a shitty day out im not missing anything.
on the other hand, when its nice out, your always like oh fuck! i should go to a park, save some seals from dying in the ocean, or I dont know make love underneath a waterfall. Regardless of the nature of these urges one thing remains the same. When its nice out. you cant chill, you need to get the fuck up off the couch and get the fuck out onto the frontier. It doesn't matter if that means walking through treacherous mountains, down the block to the bodega to buy looseys (3 for a dolla HOLLA!), or driving .3 miles to your friends house in your 45-cylender 1.0 mile to the gallon SUV.
Some people love that push. that kick in the ass. Others strive for excuses. who are you? whats the use, this thing is useless.
Miguel Filipe Santa-Anna de Rossaline Jose Georgette Luis
on the other hand, when its nice out, your always like oh fuck! i should go to a park, save some seals from dying in the ocean, or I dont know make love underneath a waterfall. Regardless of the nature of these urges one thing remains the same. When its nice out. you cant chill, you need to get the fuck up off the couch and get the fuck out onto the frontier. It doesn't matter if that means walking through treacherous mountains, down the block to the bodega to buy looseys (3 for a dolla HOLLA!), or driving .3 miles to your friends house in your 45-cylender 1.0 mile to the gallon SUV.
Some people love that push. that kick in the ass. Others strive for excuses. who are you? whats the use, this thing is useless.
Miguel Filipe Santa-Anna de Rossaline Jose Georgette Luis
Friday, March 27, 2009
Taxes. Fuck Taxes
The decadent douchebags of debauchery sprinkled throughout wall street, (former) investment bankers, and the Washington waltz of clumsy corruption(ers?) have created a rather large hole in the once highly revered "american economy". Through a series of "clever accounting schemes" beginning in the early 90s, debt has been transferred, packaged, and resealed in a neverending effort to smother losses and decieve the public into thinking that everything is going perfect-until it bottomed out, and now its on us. so why should my tax dollars go into bailing out corporations and banks that i could careless about? it shouldnt. But, I guess theres nothing i can do about it now, not even my main man Barack can save us, the Bush administration managed to royally fuck everything up-and got away (but thats a whole 'nother story for another rainy day).
Heres my mission, and my request to all of my loyal compatriots fighting the man and day by day etching away at the establishment:
Get paid in cash. avoid taxes at all costs. Argue whenever tax is added onto any item you purchase; no matter how small, how seemingly insignifigant. You have to not give a fuck- you need to be a ruthless ninja of the night. use your tongues as swords and let them slit the throats of cashiers and tax collectors nationwide.
Linda-Sue (honest cashier): "that'll be 2.99 plus tax"
Loyal follower: "what.........the.....fuck did you just say?"
Linda-Sue: "um, I-I dont know what, what, wha-"
Loyal Follower: (coldly) "you said something after 2.99,"
Linda-Sue :"tax?"
Loyal Follower: "What if.......... i dont pay that?"
Linda-Sue: "you cant have your swisher-sweets"
Loyal Follower: "Oh- Oh, no you have got to be fucking kidding me."
he/she then proceeds to whip out a copy of the declaration of independence(from the Jose Luiz backpack of necessary documents and supplies for the modern day revolutionist mind), and proceeds to read it to the All-American Linda-Sue. and to the shock, disbelief, and horror of the 34 compliant tax payers in line behind you. Linda-Sue's whole world is turned upside down, right before there very tax-paying eyes)
It then proceeds to rain. inside. she lets her hair out. jumps up on the counter. and starts dancing. the back wall falls out and BAM! theres Def leppard playing, "pour some sugar on me"............................
If only this were real . If only the world were such a wonderfull place, perhaps we wouldnt have economic crises, perhaps we wouldnt even have economics. But its not. so now we have to deal with it. So have fun all of us (myself included) funding the very machine that perpetuated the downfall in the firstplace.
Jose Luiz.
Heres my mission, and my request to all of my loyal compatriots fighting the man and day by day etching away at the establishment:
Get paid in cash. avoid taxes at all costs. Argue whenever tax is added onto any item you purchase; no matter how small, how seemingly insignifigant. You have to not give a fuck- you need to be a ruthless ninja of the night. use your tongues as swords and let them slit the throats of cashiers and tax collectors nationwide.
Linda-Sue (honest cashier): "that'll be 2.99 plus tax"
Loyal follower: "what.........the.....fuck did you just say?"
Linda-Sue: "um, I-I dont know what, what, wha-"
Loyal Follower: (coldly) "you said something after 2.99,"
Linda-Sue :"tax?"
Loyal Follower: "What if.......... i dont pay that?"
Linda-Sue: "you cant have your swisher-sweets"
Loyal Follower: "Oh- Oh, no you have got to be fucking kidding me."
he/she then proceeds to whip out a copy of the declaration of independence(from the Jose Luiz backpack of necessary documents and supplies for the modern day revolutionist mind), and proceeds to read it to the All-American Linda-Sue. and to the shock, disbelief, and horror of the 34 compliant tax payers in line behind you. Linda-Sue's whole world is turned upside down, right before there very tax-paying eyes)
It then proceeds to rain. inside. she lets her hair out. jumps up on the counter. and starts dancing. the back wall falls out and BAM! theres Def leppard playing, "pour some sugar on me"............................
If only this were real . If only the world were such a wonderfull place, perhaps we wouldnt have economic crises, perhaps we wouldnt even have economics. But its not. so now we have to deal with it. So have fun all of us (myself included) funding the very machine that perpetuated the downfall in the firstplace.
Jose Luiz.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
The World at a Glance
A creative masterpiece you say. Or is it really a sack of hay. There are somethings that I believe none of us will ever quite understand. A reason for poems, a walk for peace. Sometimes, you just have to go with it.
Living in the moment is one of the hardest things a human being raised in my generation can do. We are stuck in a mastermind contusion of ideological impatientness. The trend began with napster. at first you say, why pay when i don't have to? Then, why albums when I can just download the best song(s). (i use S in parenthesis because of the many a times "wonderfull" pop artists of the late 90s and "early millenium" only had one good song to album ratio) which entails a neverending cycle of recurring one hit wonders (britney spears, ricky martin)
I ask, why come out with an album to make a hit song?
(you know discussing the consipracy that the "big-bad" record companies are withholding the "hits" and using the filler as a means to aquire money; i mean thats why we all started downloading music in the first place, right?) lol
so we now have taken the art out of music, generalizing an artist to only one song, making the margin between musician and image even blurrier....You know its easy when a pop artist has a hit song to watch his music video (to your own shock, disbelief, and despair) a thousand times and then associate an image with him.
nevertheless, we can no longer listen to full albums because quite frankly, were too cheap to purchase them and only have a brief handfull of the artists songs at our disposal; a perfect mix to contract the worst disease: "auditory ADHD" (as i am officialy dubbing it) and switch songs, at will, random, and to the very irritation of a seasoned listener.
now we always need something catcy cause you know we dont listen to full albums now; cheap thrills. Visa ve, rap music. But thats another story. You may ask, so what? I cant listen to a full album or some bullshit, napster, whatever man. BUT! it transcends into the very world we call real. Now, when someones talking and they elaborate on a point and well you know blah blah blah...your mind just moves on, BAM! new topic crank en em out like steel in a coal mine.
so your pretiousness takes hold, "fuck other people if im not paying attention there just rambling" (chill bitchy girl/guy from an overly-wealthy suburban housing development) well im throwin you a curveball Linda-Sue. Due to your Auditory ADHD and (now) inherinit poor listening skills your mind wonders to creative depths unparalled to the pre-millenial mind but you only act at the metaphysical realm, "Great, Man!" you say in an airy dreamer voice. No sir, its not that your so overly intellectual you cant keep up with all the "bullshit" i.e. accepted truths, society. Your just to damn lazy to do the research.
oh and even if you did do the (dreaded) "research" there still these assholes who say wikipedia is an "unreliable source" .............the absurdity of the possibility of this truth upsets me from within.
so this "light-bulb" or "micro-wave" generation just dosent cut it with old school intellectuals. so, what....yeah i guess soooo what. i blame the internet. anything we want is a literal flick of the finger, a snap of the mouse; whichever be thy ways.
my next question....
is this a bad thing? i think so, which is why i deemed it necessary to mention in the life and times of the honorable Jose Luiz. I have some problems with my beloved "suedo hippie" generation. we dont read enough. we dont discuss enough. we dont THINK enough. its not just the conformists.............assholes. its everyones problem cause when it comes down to it, were just one generation of human beings co-existing on an overly populated and poorly managed chunk of rock spiralling around some huge empty space.
Speaking from the grim underbelly of the resistance,
Jose Santa Maria Anna Louis
Living in the moment is one of the hardest things a human being raised in my generation can do. We are stuck in a mastermind contusion of ideological impatientness. The trend began with napster. at first you say, why pay when i don't have to? Then, why albums when I can just download the best song(s). (i use S in parenthesis because of the many a times "wonderfull" pop artists of the late 90s and "early millenium" only had one good song to album ratio) which entails a neverending cycle of recurring one hit wonders (britney spears, ricky martin)
I ask, why come out with an album to make a hit song?
(you know discussing the consipracy that the "big-bad" record companies are withholding the "hits" and using the filler as a means to aquire money; i mean thats why we all started downloading music in the first place, right?) lol
so we now have taken the art out of music, generalizing an artist to only one song, making the margin between musician and image even blurrier....You know its easy when a pop artist has a hit song to watch his music video (to your own shock, disbelief, and despair) a thousand times and then associate an image with him.
nevertheless, we can no longer listen to full albums because quite frankly, were too cheap to purchase them and only have a brief handfull of the artists songs at our disposal; a perfect mix to contract the worst disease: "auditory ADHD" (as i am officialy dubbing it) and switch songs, at will, random, and to the very irritation of a seasoned listener.
now we always need something catcy cause you know we dont listen to full albums now; cheap thrills. Visa ve, rap music. But thats another story. You may ask, so what? I cant listen to a full album or some bullshit, napster, whatever man. BUT! it transcends into the very world we call real. Now, when someones talking and they elaborate on a point and well you know blah blah blah...your mind just moves on, BAM! new topic crank en em out like steel in a coal mine.
so your pretiousness takes hold, "fuck other people if im not paying attention there just rambling" (chill bitchy girl/guy from an overly-wealthy suburban housing development) well im throwin you a curveball Linda-Sue. Due to your Auditory ADHD and (now) inherinit poor listening skills your mind wonders to creative depths unparalled to the pre-millenial mind but you only act at the metaphysical realm, "Great, Man!" you say in an airy dreamer voice. No sir, its not that your so overly intellectual you cant keep up with all the "bullshit" i.e. accepted truths, society. Your just to damn lazy to do the research.
oh and even if you did do the (dreaded) "research" there still these assholes who say wikipedia is an "unreliable source" .............the absurdity of the possibility of this truth upsets me from within.
so this "light-bulb" or "micro-wave" generation just dosent cut it with old school intellectuals. so, what....yeah i guess soooo what. i blame the internet. anything we want is a literal flick of the finger, a snap of the mouse; whichever be thy ways.
my next question....
is this a bad thing? i think so, which is why i deemed it necessary to mention in the life and times of the honorable Jose Luiz. I have some problems with my beloved "suedo hippie" generation. we dont read enough. we dont discuss enough. we dont THINK enough. its not just the conformists.............assholes. its everyones problem cause when it comes down to it, were just one generation of human beings co-existing on an overly populated and poorly managed chunk of rock spiralling around some huge empty space.
Speaking from the grim underbelly of the resistance,
Jose Santa Maria Anna Louis
Thursday, March 5, 2009
A Day in The Life
Sometimes the quaintest things bring the queerest out in all of us. Here are several points which i believe need further explanation and board-certified case studies
1.human behavioral patterns around puddles. who jumps, who ponders then jumps, and then the zany few who ramble directly through the watery mess.
2. when drinking....
a. why do white people yell and get irritably corny
b. why do girls act less smart and more vulnerable?
3. End of Raeman noodle rituals, to drink the broth or not to drink the broth
4. Why are there 8 hot dogs in a package, but they only sell buns in 6's (fucking annoying)
5. On that note, why why do companies like sylvania G.E. and various other light-bulb brands not sell individual light bulbs, i had to buy 8 the other day
6. why do Europeans drive on the opposite side of the car and the road, when the relation with road/driver orientation is exactly the same
7. how are there snythetic versions of illegal drugs made by seemingly "legal" companies when the very drug they are "synthesizing" is illegal. (were talking oxycoton here kids)
8. why is taking ecstacy considered "rolling"
9. WHy does our generation continue to abbreviate everything. First it started with lol, now it has infiltrated to previous generations as the accepted norms. Case and point: THe other day, while trying to aquire ciggarettes, so i say "can i have a pack of marlboros" the then 80-year old cashier procliams, "get with it there called marbs" I retorted, "no, you see i dont play around with all these bullshit abbreviations of words and all types of mishcievious slander that the rest of my generation takes part in. I mean whats to stop me from calling them M27's, then when im really trying to get a pack of ciggarettes you think im trying to persuade you to give me ammunition,"
Jose Santa Maria Louis
1.human behavioral patterns around puddles. who jumps, who ponders then jumps, and then the zany few who ramble directly through the watery mess.
2. when drinking....
a. why do white people yell and get irritably corny
b. why do girls act less smart and more vulnerable?
3. End of Raeman noodle rituals, to drink the broth or not to drink the broth
4. Why are there 8 hot dogs in a package, but they only sell buns in 6's (fucking annoying)
5. On that note, why why do companies like sylvania G.E. and various other light-bulb brands not sell individual light bulbs, i had to buy 8 the other day
6. why do Europeans drive on the opposite side of the car and the road, when the relation with road/driver orientation is exactly the same
7. how are there snythetic versions of illegal drugs made by seemingly "legal" companies when the very drug they are "synthesizing" is illegal. (were talking oxycoton here kids)
8. why is taking ecstacy considered "rolling"
9. WHy does our generation continue to abbreviate everything. First it started with lol, now it has infiltrated to previous generations as the accepted norms. Case and point: THe other day, while trying to aquire ciggarettes, so i say "can i have a pack of marlboros" the then 80-year old cashier procliams, "get with it there called marbs" I retorted, "no, you see i dont play around with all these bullshit abbreviations of words and all types of mishcievious slander that the rest of my generation takes part in. I mean whats to stop me from calling them M27's, then when im really trying to get a pack of ciggarettes you think im trying to persuade you to give me ammunition,"
Jose Santa Maria Louis
Zach De La Rocha, come back dude
Cant take our mind, ask me, and ill hop the fuck out the line
who knows the answer to the question think inside the box or you catch detention
Later in life they track your ass down, catch you exploring and then hunt you. all the way. the. fuck. down.
uhhhh
Give me back my shit
Get these cuffs off my wrist
Just cause I dont live a simple life in a quiet town why you gotta come through and put my ass down?
unnecessary but i guess thats the name of your game,
it takes a real man these days to stand up and complain,
watch the rain, or rather watch out cause itll burn you up
just like they burned our books, then our records, now what?
who knows the answer to the question think inside the box or you catch detention
Later in life they track your ass down, catch you exploring and then hunt you. all the way. the. fuck. down.
uhhhh
Give me back my shit
Get these cuffs off my wrist
Just cause I dont live a simple life in a quiet town why you gotta come through and put my ass down?
unnecessary but i guess thats the name of your game,
it takes a real man these days to stand up and complain,
watch the rain, or rather watch out cause itll burn you up
just like they burned our books, then our records, now what?
Women
Walking...strutting rather. Laden in their boots and skinny jeans
whose to say theres an end to all their treacherous means?
Women, their so beautiful; but confusion rungs amuck
the chaos inside causes the opposite to thrive
Evil darlings, so sweet and pretty
my fellow man fear not and please, please do not pity
Emotional and Just, we are just the opposite, and filled with lust.
whose to say theres an end to all their treacherous means?
Women, their so beautiful; but confusion rungs amuck
the chaos inside causes the opposite to thrive
Evil darlings, so sweet and pretty
my fellow man fear not and please, please do not pity
Emotional and Just, we are just the opposite, and filled with lust.
A little Jingle For All You New Age Janglers
A lady, somewhere stuck in someplace once told me I am a futuristic White Knight, my answer concealed in the depths of my imagination (the 4th dimension) was as follows:
white with passion and envy furious in a land forsaken by economics, the cursed and cruel religion of the money hungry war mongers. We need not partake in violent and bloody conquest, tis the ways of the past, Our countries entwined in a clusterfuck of multi-national corporations assert there economic prowess throughout the Earth and use money as bullets supressing the weak and poor governments, creating poverty and despair throughout a land once untouched from the cowardice of money.
-Jose Luiz
white with passion and envy furious in a land forsaken by economics, the cursed and cruel religion of the money hungry war mongers. We need not partake in violent and bloody conquest, tis the ways of the past, Our countries entwined in a clusterfuck of multi-national corporations assert there economic prowess throughout the Earth and use money as bullets supressing the weak and poor governments, creating poverty and despair throughout a land once untouched from the cowardice of money.
-Jose Luiz
Thursday, February 26, 2009
2:24 am
its 2:24 A.M. in room 508 things are getting fuzzy. An utterance, a thought from the further galaxies lightyears away in my brain shot across my central nervous system...
I remembered a time and place where i was alleviated from the pangs of consumerism and conformity that reek throughout this land. Equipped with only my wallet and the clothes on my back i was ready to adventure. Here I am almost a year later and all I can do is hope to hunt that feeling again. Soon my friends that time will come again, when nothing else matters but the journey....
I remembered a time and place where i was alleviated from the pangs of consumerism and conformity that reek throughout this land. Equipped with only my wallet and the clothes on my back i was ready to adventure. Here I am almost a year later and all I can do is hope to hunt that feeling again. Soon my friends that time will come again, when nothing else matters but the journey....
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