THIS IS AN OLD "SKINTERVIEW" with me.... never released.... cuz mr. skin has a bald headed fag homo for an employee who is fired now.

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SLEEPING NEXT TO A TARD.

IM REALLY GLAD TO BE SLEEPING NEXT TO A TARD..... this guy is perhaps i thought at one time more of a tard than even me cuz he had lost an eye due to MERSA and like hopped trains and shit but even his retardenesss had disappointed...... he is way too nice and mean and dishonest to me and disses my friends who are super wonderful. and i will never ever forget you and i am going so crazy. and always going crazy crazy crazy in this stupid ccrazy crazy basememt. would photograph it but it's too dark. just picture like anne franke's worst nightmare with electric and a dude with one eye who is good at fucking but like doesn't like to do it. he talks like the nanny and is from pakapsie new york. which i would like to constantantly say cuz i like the way he says it but he tricked me and made me think i was still in love with him and now even now and forever and before and always and before i knew i knew i new new new love is a damn sham. a pure lure. stierling silver shit. poop out my moms diarrhea hole. i hate love. i love hate. i love to hate him. i am so bitter. i want to shatter his dreams. i like to shatter the dreams. hiim saying he gonna git a piece of tha land george like lenny from of mice and men. of mince and mersa. yea well there ain't gonna be no rabbits DEORDge.... ain't gonna be none of those damn rabbits lenny. you get a pieceofthaland... and you disss my projects and my life and my jobby job selling my poonie.... but ya got a guy.... i overstand.... we all do.... a guy who's gonna give you 60 million for your photos.... cuz some acopolco sunrise jagoff took em of u before the mersa came. i feel too bad. i put you in your place tonite and you probably have nightmare after nightmare and i am sorry but you have brought me living nightmares in my sleep.... i have been sick sick sick. and other friends others are dicks.... you left me here. homeless.... busless.... you also have the sicko dreams. digging holes for money????!.... GO BACK TO TEXAS LOSERS..... OR TAKE ME TO A RED LOBSTER..... FUCK YOU. GIVE ME BACK MY BUS... I WANT IT OFF HATE STREET.... NO ASS BERRYS FOR MY BUS.... I GOT THE KRATOM TODAY...... mother it helps me jeezuz god revolution it does.... the KRATOM IS THE SMILES AND SWEETNESS AND SMILES AND NOTHING BITTER AND NOTHING FOOLISH..... KRATOM KRATOM KRATOM KRATOM KRATOM KRATOM..... something very weird is going on around us and the power that is weak is strong and that old guy over there.... well he must be real smart..... you know.... KRATOM..... it seems to be you don't remember how to smile.... i don't either. i remember when we did smile. like 2 weeks ago. i could do it ma. i could smile. i could not romance. i could smile. i had friends. i had a home. now i have neither. i can't smile ma. no more. the eye has sucked it out of me. of me. of me. i am told constantly how of a horrible person i am.... its twiddliweinks. it's a stupid wad of shit. abusive fucks. did i tell you the story bout how i almost got raped n kilt here in oakland.... another time kiddies.... right now this is alll i can get off my mind. stupid stream of conscioness shit. i hate it... i wish i could make more sense to you.... the problem is that it makes total sense to myself. but no one else else else ever could get this.... i'm not pretensiousing.... i'm just fillin up paper. i can't play condemned two too..... neither can the mersa. he plays ELF GAMES.... AND TRADED SILENT HILL FOR AN ELF GAME..... WHO GIVESS A FLYING RATS ASS ABOUT ELVES????. MAYBE WHEN YOU HAVE ONE EYE IT'LL LOOK MORE INTERESSING ( KNOCK ON WOOD..... ME LIKEZ MINE EYEZ)))) BUT IMA MEANER THAN THA MERSA THAT TOOK AN EYE.... IMA MEANER THEN BILLY THE KID.... IMA NOT GETTIN A PIECE OF THAT LAND DEORGE. NEVER GETTING IT. OH WELL... PLEASE COMMENT ON THIS PIECE.... OF GARBAGE.....

XOXO

All the Best.

Meg. aka. Lil. P.

RAGIN THE HATE 2012

SO YEA.... as my once crazy Batman wannabe cop vigilante wannabe friend who worked the door at Mortville (still one of my favorite places on earth) who was once named Eric... Went to a couple of fucking rainbow gatherings and some of those Jerry Garcia tribute Shits and changed his name to "HUCKELBERRY SPIN" (WTF) I know.... it's fucking weird.... but as HUCK would say I've been RAGIN THE HAIGHT for the last like way too long... I'm thinking it has been three days.... it seems like one long day, but it also seems like I have lived there for ten years.... I NEVER thought I would say that.... When I had to get out of the car and ask for directions to HATE AND ASS BERRY I vomited in my mouth.... Give me ANY FUCKING INTERSECTION IN THE DAMN COUNTRY.... and I will ask for it.... Can't think of any stupid ones now. BUT HATE AND ASS BERRY in my mind is the worst most embarassing place to exist, go, live, talk, shit, eat, read a magazine, open a door, kiss a baby, kill yourself, clean a fork, yea I don't know just ABOUT EVERYTHING.... But so I get there and I literally CAN'T WAIT FOR the hippies we will encounter and how I plan on laughing my inferior white trash ass off.... BUT yea we get there the first night, and a fellow asks me if I want mushrooms... at a very cheap price btw. OF COURSE I DO.... normally though when someone is walking around the street selling mushrooms they like have it ready, or at least some semblance of ready. My friend referred to him as "Hubbas" because the last time he was in his presence Hubbas was smoking madd crack and ya know being a Hubba Pigeon. So like anyways, I say yes and this guy ducks into this head shop and sez OK COOL GOTTA BUY A SCALE.... he didn't have a scale?!?!. After like 20 minutes he emerges to a very windy rainy night and asks us if we think he should divide them out on this fucking table.... and I'm like HELL NO. They're just gonna blow away. So there's always this option of this "space toilet" which I was not privvy to at the time.... But now after hearing story after story about how many people have accidentally or purposely offed themselves in the thing... it has become QUITE THE FUCKING MONUMENT.... I mean it's the perfect place to shoot up, and most people go in and wake up dead. I guess the door opens this space aged way.... I can only imagine opening it and finding a dead one in there.... It would be awful. And now that I have been ragin the hate I fucking heard so many first hand accounts of people's dead friends dying in there. That place has got some stories I'm sure. So anyways I see this atm place where we can duck inside and me and Hubbas go inside while he measures out the quarter of some of the best mushrooms I've ever ate and then while we're in there the motherfucker is taking like an hour to open the scale lay the mushrooms out, and then he asks ME for a fucking bag. I shoved them in a perscription container..... Meanwhile there is a line forming outside because there are two atms in there and my friend gnome is telling people to get the fuck away from the atm because his friend is fucked up and will freak out if anyone goes in there with him. That his friend needs privacy in the atm. I don't know still if this was good or bad but finally some guy says fuck off and proceeds in and Hubbas starts freaking and I start saying, just keep signing your fucking checks so we can go..... For some reason I'm not scared cuz I'm in the land of the burnt out zombies, constantly fighting, smoking dope, and hustling on the streets. Who the fuck would care about some mushrooms..... He finally finishes. It was wonderful. Then I go on for three more or ten more days talking to street kids who were literally birthed in Greatful Dead parking lots.... someone is staying on my bus who is only a few years older than me but seems like they are 4,000 or something. I guess that's what happens when you start SMOKING CRACK WHEN YOU'RE 6 FUCKING YEARS OLD AND YOU RUN AWAY FROM HOME WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND AT 8 AND START RIDING THE RAILS.... HOLY SHIT. But he makes a good living. He digs holes. Makes money. This guy talks just like Tommy Chong. But he does have ways to make good money. He and most of these other kids are like MacGuyver when it comes to drugs. They all have an encyclopedia like knowledge of everything. They can turn a fucking can of soda into a pound of crack in like two hours... And they find AMAZING things on the ground. Drugs, Jewelry, Clothes, Food, Shoes, Chihuahuas, I've fucking seen it.... it's AMAZING. These people are magical. There were seven of them staying on my bus at one time and I felt more safe than I had felt in forever. They are like sweet little minons that come back to the home base with weird drugs, jewels, clothes, food.... and they live like in a real utopia.... EVERYONE SHARES EVERYTHING. It's beautiful. So man I got so many stories about what these eyes have seen in the past few days... but shit. I'm so into it. The most creative writer on earth could not come up with these characters. They've got names like Troll, Six Pack, Rodeo, Molliwop, Steve, Pat, Gnome, Huckleberry Spin, Casper. I am no longer afraid of giving birth now. Because even if I was the absolute most neglectful mother, my kids would turn out like this and that would be just fine for me. I LOVE THE HATE.

JESUS WRITTEN IN 2008?!?!. Lil Manitoba... where I lived in the worst neighborhood in the CHI

lil manitoba shitheads!!!! LIVIN IT UP.

As I approached my house in my broken down 92 white geo prism, I could not stop hoping that the hanger that I recently affixed to the hood to keep it down wouldn't burst and have the hood go flying up to the windshield and break it into a million pieces. I know the adventure to get in the door has only begun, a faint sound in the distance reminds me of my surroundings. I am forced to slam on the breaks as two beautiful specimens of womanhood wearing their summer best, haltertops with matching minishorts with their asses dangling all the way out of the bottom.... TOTALLY HIDZ.... I think I'm gonna hurl.. as they jump in front of my car they utter insufferable insults at each other that for some reason I am unable to understand. Is the melanin in my skin that absent that I really do not understand the language that these two ladies speak. I know it is not spanish... I don't really know if it's english though. I really can't fucking describe it. I know I'm having a total mindfreak trying to fucking decipher it though... Sometimes I'll hear a "bitch" or something but to save my life I couldn't decipher a sentance. For being half black, I sure am white... There is a lot of fingernail pointing and both these girls totally look like they just went dutch on a stripmall of Country Buffetts cuz the cellulite is fucking flying. I can actually hear thighs slapping together producing a cacaphony of pure beauty... Ahhh... Life is bliss. If one was to videotape the asscheeks and then play it back in slow motion, I believe that the outcome would far surpass the best porno ever made. Just the little patterns that they seem to make and break, not unlike those of a lava lamp, is beautiful... I believe if you showed this tape to someone on LSD, they might discover everything that is important and beautiful in the world. Urban Carnage is so fucking chic.
Suddenly reality hits me on my hollow head and I realize that I am in the car, and I must come back to consciousness and not let these sirens lure me into their wicked world. Yea right... As if I could... I'd at least need a THUG LIFE tattoo first.... Finally they are torn apart by some spazzed out family member or friend and I am able to drive a little closer to my destination. I can't help but think... someone's about to get served and I'm very effing glad it was not me in that case. I must park this bitch before getting pulled over for the ten gazillionth time for, again, being born with little melanin in my skin. And yes, I do understand the irony of being pulled over for being white, but in my hood, the po po's either wanna protect the precious white cheese dicks or throw them in jail for a few days for scoring a rock. Apparently our busted asses have no reason whatsoever to go further south than 35th street unless we are in dire need of a cocaine/baking soda combo. The 5-0 knows this and keeps the hood in check... even if this means harassing me and being busted ass fartsniffers by pulling me over once a week and nearly giving me an effing heart attack. I'm not one of the cheesedicks with the rocks, but I'm not exactly Mother Theresa, and as EAZY E said it FUCK THE POLICE.
Car is parked... Thank effing Christ. I sit for a moment, take a deep breath, and reflect on how lucky i am that I did not get pulled over by some busted ass monkey and that my car made it somewhere and back without overheating or the hood flying up and causing me to hit some queef riding their bike like a moron. The ladies spazzing out in the middle of my street are quite a common occourance. When one drives down 50th street by where I live, they must remember to drive very very slow as child, dog, hooker, bootleg movie dealer, window washer, drunk man, or pervert may fly out into the street in from of the car at any time. The driver must be ever vigilant and act like each meter that is driven is a triumph. Then there are the people in my neighborhood that just stand in the middle of the street and stare with the severity like they're staring at one onf those gay magic eye things... What can you do? There are far too many reasons for a person to stand in the middle of the street to address each of them. If they are moving a lot and look strung out or nuts you can hope that perhaps they will move a bit more as to allow you through. If they are fighting, as I described earlier, that can be a dicey situation. They are already angry, you do NOT want to upset them. Usually you just have to wait to be lucky. I got lucky. Don't let yourself be the one who gets served.
You mostly have to watch out for one thing that is so shitty, once encountered, there is not defense... The teenagers. There is no way to combat them. There is no talking to them. One must just allow them to be. They are ALL such stinking pieces of shit that they still have steam coming off of them. I have to forget that teenagers are human because it just baffles me, and I am not just talking about the ones in my neighborhood here, I am talking about all of the buttqueefs age 13-19. FUCK YOU. I hated high school. I hate that you exist... Unless you shoot up your school... then it's ok. These dipshits think that they have a FUCK YOU card that gives them carte blanche to do whatever they want, and make fun of the fact that my ass crack is hanging out, or that my car is disgusting, or that I look like I just tumbled out of bed (which I probably did), or they can just laugh and spazz out and holler at you, and you can't do shit. You just have to remember that these beautiful creatures are all a bunch of ugly butttqueefs and endure the insults until they get tired of making fun of you and let you pass. You must endure the PTSD of your former high school years if you were unpopular like myself and just grin and bear it... Use whatever defence mechanism you can... You're out on the streets now baby... and these teenagers take NO prisoners. Oh and anohter thing... the teenagers have a whole other language that i don't believe is even remotely related to the amount of melanin in their skin. They are always yelling... ALWAYS... and it never makes sense... So to try to retort with a witty remark is next to impossible when you're dealing with these types. Just because they got shot out of mommy's vag like ten years before me, they can do ANYTHING their fartsniffing asses desire.
I digress. I am now exiting my car and I proceed to the big metal gate that is in front of the building of Little Manitoba. This walk is usually a brisk one as I try not to get approached by anyone, usually people asking for money or cigarettes. I also don't want people seeing what car I get out of or they could potentially wash my windows and I would then have to give them money, no matter how much I protested during the act of washing. As a sidenote, I have always thought it rude when driving to put on the windshield wipers when someone forcefully washes my windows thinking it might cut or hurt their lovely hands. I am still on the fence about this one. Is that rude? I mean I OBVIOUSLY have a shitbag of a car... It's like, ok man with bucket... why don't you go try the fucking Lexus next to me instead of the dented ass Geo Prism... At least my windshield is always clean. It's not worth the amount I pay in cigarettes, money, and pain. Anyway I get to the gate quickly. I rustle through my bag to find my keys. I can never seem to find them... Quickly... Quickly.... Ok I'm totally spazzing now because I notice I am being approached.
I encounter another staple of urban carnage and this wonderful neighborhood... the bootlegger. Yes, I am guilty and have, in the past, purchaced many bootleg movies. Man sometimes those shits are good... But what this wicked queef must realize is that even though there have been one or two times that they posessed a dvd that is of my liking, it does not mean that i will always and forever love every piece of busted ass low budget dogshit that they decide to vomit onto a disc. Christ. The maj of these movies are COMPLETE SHIT. I am not paying 5 bucks for Zombie Strippers 3 simply because three months ago I purchaced Halloween and now I am pegged as "the girl who likes horror movies". And for those of you that are thinking "whoh that's dumb, I'd totally get Zombie Strippers 3"... I have been in your shoes as well, and have purchaced the weirdo dogshit movies, and unfortunately that's what they are... total dogshit.
"Ah Gotz da harraw moviez ya likez"... I try to keep my head down and ignore it, but I can't... That's too rude. I am now forced to engage in conversation with the disc dealer while I awkwardly fumble with the lock on the gate trying to unlock it as fast as possible. "Zombie Strippers 3... BAM... I DID DAT ONE SPECIALLY FO YOU"... How extremely altruistic of you... i think. and i explain that i do not have any money today. Then they pull out the arsenal. He opens up his backpack and along with a plant, an eight track, some candles still in their wrappers, an empty bottle of mountain dew code red, and a can of chili, he pulls out like twenty cds. WHOH I think... I must stop this as fast as I can... On some certain days when suffering from extreme boredom and when I have just completely given up on myself and my life I might sit through the descriptions and names of twenty bootleg movies, and then listen to all the great deals they have to offer like one for $5, two for $10, but today is not one of those... I would really like to get past this locked gate into my house. I'm about to have another mindfreak!!!
Finally the lock opens. Like Fuckin' woah. I try to say in my most polite voice... OH no no no... you don't have to go through your bag like that. I'm fine. I don't want any dvds... They never take no for an answer. It is like the word "no" has been magically erased from his brain. He just cannot understand when I say it, and gets all doe eyed when it happens..; This is a top notch salesman I am dealing with. He should be working down at the mercantile exchange or something with his sales techniques, but for some reason he is outside my gate. There are three more attempts at a NO. Finally I feebly close the gate in his face... Then he tries to sell me the plant or the can of chili. Chili does sound wicked good right now... but I already told him I had no money. Damn. I say thank you... And he turns around, and walks down the street, swearing to himself. I really don't think he ever misses a sale. The few times I have denied him he just gives me this look like "Are you fucking serious"... What the fuck is wrong with you.... You don't want Girlz in the Hood "76"... Fuck you you busted ass cumrag. But he always comes back. Currently he has accumulated a 26 dollar debt with me by promises of movies and because he has to go back and forth to see his dead grandma at the hospital. He'll pay me back... Someday.
I get in and I try to dodge all of the piles of dogshit that sit right at the front gate. They very from very small and very stinky to large and steaming and smelling like fresh roses. There are three dogs that live here and for some reason they have all made their "territory" outside the front door so when you come in you have to do some kind of two step dance in order to get in... Or youu just walk, and the ground is disgustingly soft. I try to do my two step as best as I can, but one step falls upon soft ground... I sigh and accept it. Maybe I swear too. Yea I'm not going to lie. I totally fucking swear and curse whatever beast created that foul monsterous bloomin onion of waste that I just stepped on to the deepest darkest circle of hell.... This turd is HIDZ. WTF do they feed these beasts to make these ever steaming foul ass wicked turds???
So I dodge most of the doggie shit and the flies fly up to my hairy armpits and I must flap my wings like a bird to get them off... It's a beautiful site. While I am doing this I hear "HEY BLONDIE" and I immediately know who it is... It is my new upstairs neighbor.. He seems to know when I come and go always and never hesitates to say hello and Goodbye... It's very sweet... But today was a very "special" day. It was rather fucking bizarre... It wasn't just a simple HEY BLONDIE... It was accompanied by question after question, like how are you doing, where are you going, where were you, etc... I notice as I am answering these questions, he is gyrating back and forth. Its fucking weird. What could he be doing??? Ok... either he has some kind of tick that I haven't noticed, or he's fucking jacking off while talking to me... THAT'S AMAZING. He totally is. It can't be anything different... Usually I'd be like this is grosser than eating a boca burger with mayo but shit I love when dudes masturbate to me... Especially from a high window and me on the ground... Sort of romantic... LIke Romeo and Juliet. God... Did I mention that I like when people masturbate to me... Yea masturbation... I like that. Take a gander at my beauty and grab your fucking cock... YEA JUST LIKE THAT.... ok.. major tangent. sorry...
That ended up being the highlight of my week. Everytime I thought of it I was like "That was raw as hell... that developmentally disabled man touching himself to me...". Oh yea, backtrack... afterwards I was told that he was developmentally disabled and it turned me on super double. I have finally found my "Leo Decaprio plays Artie in my 'What's Eating Gilbert Grape'" fantasy... and he's not even fat like the other tard that tried to rape me. But now as of late we have not seen him.. It's sad.
I did make it into my house though... With only a little gem of steaming dog doo on my shoe, guilt in my brain, semen on my shoulder, and love in my heart. I am greeted by a cacophony of dogs barking which serenades me each and every time I enter, leave, bring someone down, bring someone up, drop my keys, fall down in my apartment, something falls in my apartment, I walk in my apartment, I shove my significant other into the bathtub out of sheer rage or a need for sex (both have happened) or even when I peacefully lay my head down on my pillow, always. The dogs... rawrawrawrawrawrawraw THE DOGS.... I understand Son of Sam right now. That man was totes (totally) justified in what he did. Dogs are fucking buttqueefs. He got a bad rap... The dogs should have been charged for the murders. I swear the only reason anyone has a dog is if they are a woman, and they fuck it... I have seen it way too many times on the internet to know that that is the only reason people own dogs... The big ones are tops, the little ones are dildos.
The dogs do serve a purpose besides fertilizer, they are there to keep intruders away... I don't actually think this house has EVER been broken into... Pretty impressive considering the fact that some people think that white people have money, which they usually do, and it's amazing that no one has ever tried to get in and get all our extravagant goods. I think the most expensive thing I own right now is that 8 ball of coke sitting on my table and the street value of the pharmaceuticals that I could sell but I don't. Even this computer has all but bit the dust and I never want to take it to Apple to get it fixed because they make me feel horrible. They talk about it like its a child. I walk in and some obnoxious raw piece of mall carnagewith cover up slathered all over her face only to make her acne problem stand out 50 times more. I give her credit for trying... but she does have a better job than me.. or at least a job. And I know she's totally a fucking geek tool so I gotta love her cuz i was one too before I got effing le-lo hot. The fartsniffing monkey will look at it, snort and say it and I quote "your computer suffers from severe abuse". Then she gives me this look as if I just bit a dogs head off... right there in the store. It makes me wonder what kind of mother I would be. Ok that was a major tangent. The point is that there is no point in robbing me and pretty much anyone who lives here.
Back to the dogs. They are a great security measure as I said, and maybe the wonderful canadians who own this beautiful building are doing something right, but in order to even enter the house is worse than breaking out of alcatraz. My keychain resembles that of a janitor because of the sheer amount of locks that I must unlock to get in. Now this would suck normally, but I have been blessed with the mind bending disease of obsessive compulsive disorder. If you don't know what this is, it takes a long ass time to explain, so too bad. All I'll say is that I don't wash my hands a lot and am extremely messy. But locks are a particular tick for me and have always been... I will lock something, unlock it, check it, lock it, check it, unlock it, lock it, check it... etc. It takes me about thirty minutes to get to my fucking front door. I would like to tell the landlords about my ordeal but I feel like a total fucking tool. I fucking live in Fort Knox. Whatevs.
That's my Lil Manitoba.... Love it or Love it. I open the door to my apartment (which only has one lock which usually remains unlocked, unless I get paranoid... then i lock it. i digress. This is where everything becomes my fault. The fact that I must walk thigh deep through totally multiple hurl worthy piles of garbage just to get to something slightly resembling a couch... that is all my busted ass. The 27 thousand bottles of vodka lying around... that's me. The random clippits of pornography from when I tried to make a mandala of vaginas... all me. The cup of gatorade that sits on the windowsill since I moved in... I refuse to move it. It has been there so long it would be almost criminal to dump it out... The deflated bags of capri sun strewn about the space, room temp frozen pizza that is waiting to be my dinner but unfortunately has coffee spilled on it, 6 broken televisions because i decided i was going to build a wall of tvs and then got lazy and failed and don't feel like bringing the tv's down, and really since my bones are jelly... couldn't do it if i wanted to. The bottles of urine scattered about because I do not want to get off of my fat ass to go empty myself in the proper recipticle.... Thank god we don't have earthquakes here or I'd be fucked... but I do get some spillage from time to time. You know... I don't have a job either... I don't have shit to do and I can't even pee in the toilet. What is wrong with me? Oh yea... I forgot. Everything. I get checks from the government for this behavior, why stop? Whatevs.

POST FROM 2009: THE DAY I BROKE MY FACE.... ON ACID....

THE DAY I BROKE MY FACE.

thanks 2 all of u that xpressed concern fer me and my broken face... acid nightmare... gnarly scar... was planning on having lovely labor day weekend with friend from michigan. we spent about 15 hours at county and then maybe left the house once to get a pizza. my house looks like a murder scene. i had fucking gills. i cant believe this is the outcome of the surgery... i was unconcious... lost tons of blood... bloody handprints everywhere... thought i would be super deformed... got fucking my first plastic surgery... only to be followed by many more... not on the scar though... i love this thing. i look like i got in a knife fight with some fuckin chola in my hood. my poor friend who is probably as retarded as me had to deal with the cops in this neighborhood coming from a small town... somehow he ended up at county with me... soooo glad there is no psych ward there or else i would have been locked up longer....oh man yea... i dont know if anyone has ever gotten surgery while on hallucinogens but ITS A FUCKIN TRIP... HOOOLY SHIIEET. i found out later that the thing that was attached to my finger that i thought was delivering medicine was only measuring my heartbeat... mind over matter i guess... i was so out of my mind i didnt even need a fucking tylenol. needles in the face.. i remember at one point just laughing hysterically for like two minutes.... the doctor told me to wait for my catscan and i thought that was a joke so me and my friend left against all medical orders, unbenonst to my still tripping ass... i left COMPLETELY covered in blood and it's pretty amazing, but i think that the medical district is the only way that you can look like you slaughtered a deer/had a failed abortion and not get bothered by anyone.... EVERYONE by the hospital was OUT OF THEIR MINDS... we were just two more of them... no one seemed to notice us.... the hallucinogens seemed like they would never end. finally i realize that they did not even tell me when these stiches were to be removed and so we go back into the hospital and ask, and they're like yea you werent supposed to leave... you're in line for a catscan.... i was actually happy about this. it bought me more time in a safe place because the real world became fucked up fellini movie to me... i couldn't deal outside. I WAS COVERED IN BLOOD. so i figured... fuck i'll buy more time here and the catscan is free... so i laid in a gurnee with my friend and watched broken people get pushed back and forth and up and down the aisles. there was a man who had the back of his head smashed in after getting off of the train... he said the next thing he knew he was in the er. flashes of the night and me looking at my face which my friend referred to as being "totally fellaid, and looking like I had gills". I thought that I had no more fucking face. I thought the right side was like gone. I also thought I would never be able to breathe out of my right nostril. No one who saw me before I walked into that hospital could believe what the fuck I looked like on the way out.... Flashes of the night keep coming back to me. I still don't understand why my friend ended up in county with me considering there were about 8 cops asking him questions and he was going completely insane. He doesn't know how he got there either. Got the catscan... and I was sorta scared to leave... This also happened at the WORST time possible.. the day after ZENA/ROB my landlords had their baby. So finally we get out of the hospital. In all other circumstances I was looking forward to the baby shower that was going to happen that night... Family was down from Canada... Friends showed up... It was a very wholesome seeming event... Everyone was still very sweet... But here we come... walking up to the gate... me covered in blood... old boy covered in my blood... handcuff scrathes all over his wrists... It looked like ... well I don't know. I watch horror movies. It was straight out of a horror movie... Mind you, the hallucionogens still had not worn off and everyone's asking me questions and I look like the girl at the end of TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE when she jumps in front of the truck. We're both shaken up... he won't even move. I just . wanted to get upstairs... Plus I knew what they were all thinking..They had NO idea who this guy was... For all they knew it was one of the many busted ass monkeys I bring home from a bar who tried to murder me... It was surreal... I'm still tripping and covered in blood and trying to keep up appearances for my landlord's family. They were so nice though. I thought that I was going to get evicted. I was so scared. He thought that he was going to get beat up and go to jail....

He had never been in a neighborhood like this. This was hilarious.. a little of an epilogue... I live by THE MOST FUCKED UP LIQUOR STORE IN CHICAGO. It's true.... I mean every time I go in there something fucking INSANE happens... I go in there with no cash because it ALWAYS gets hustled out of me... but i saw an old friend there. and i remember he asked what the FUCK happened to me and you know... it's quite hard for me to answer that question... i still don't know. but he sees that i'm with a guy who he doesn't know and he starts lookin at my friend and talkin like he's gonna kill any muthafucka who did this to me and fuck... this was this guy's nightmare... i calmed chico down... and he was askin us for money. my friend gave him a 20... i thought he was out of his mind... but i think he was trying to buy his life.

after that little encounter he wouldn't leave the house. he was so fucking scared. we went nowhere. it wasn't so bad... i flushed all the rest of the halllucinogens in my house down the fucking toilet... i'm done with that shit... i had taken mushrooms last tuesday and i fell off a motorcycle... i don't think they go good with me. i need to take everything fucking easy now. my fucking face fell off... now i dont know if you've ever been on a bunch of acid and just looked at a fucking mirror for hours... i used to do that a lot. now picture doing that but you're entire face is gone and it's just blood. it was so absolutely surrreal... at first i didnt even want to go to the hospital... i thought i could put my face back together... i felt like it was a puzzle.. there were little chunks of things missing all over the place...

there will be more about this that i will write, like how suddenly somebody in the hospital just produced my id and that was all i had. i dont know how the id got there. i dont know why my friend was not in jail. i don't know why i didn't scare the shit out of a little girl who saw me in the hospital... but i really don't reccomend anyone to go to the most gnarly hospital in probably the whole country on acid... EVERYONE'S BROKEN.... i remember this one guy who scared the shit out of me until i smiled at him... he was obviously out of prison. he was ALL fucked up and chained hand and feet and had a HUGE DOC jumpsuit on. prison fight. a BAD one. they had this crazy badass chained up like hannibal lectar. there were police all around him... he was a crazy one for sure and at one point we locked eyes and he smiled at me. I was so happy. Half that he smiled at me, half that I was not in his situation. When he came in, me and my friend just fucking looked at each other wide eyed as hell... We both knew it could have been a lot worse. It wasn't. It was ok... I guess.... Oh shit.

RAPIST SYMPATHIZER

I MEG MCCARVILLE SPEAKING OF UNSOUND MIND AND BEING THREATENED AT GUNPOINT WHILE I WRITE THIS BY A jARABEE LAMMOND DO ADMIT TO BEING A RAPIST SYMPATHISER.... I MEAN... REALLY, HOW COULD YOU NOT BE... RAPISTS ARE LIKE CUTE LITTLE BUNNY RABBITS.... with their sad doe eyes and their insane rage... like SOFT LIL BABIES WITH THEIR WITTLE BABY COOS.... AND THE WAY THEY POUND THEIR COCK IN AND OUT OF YOUR ORIFICI WHILE YOU SIT THERE STILL AND QUIVER AND CRY AND BEG FOR MERCY... but really you CAN'T fucking stop them!!!! HOW COULD YOU???? THEY'RE SOOOOOO CUTE!!!!. You just have to be like... hay I come from a long line of rapists and abuse in the family... I only WISH I COULD BE LIKE THE CUTE WITTLE DOE EYED SWEETHEART THAT LOCKED MY BIG BROTHER IN A CAR TRUNK FOR HOURS, THREATENING HIM ANthen beat his wife and possibly raped her and other members of the family... (this was not my father).... I JUST WUV THOSE WITTLE WAPISTS.... I MYSELF HAVE BEEN LUCKY ENOUGH TO HAVE BEEN SEXUALLY ASSAULTED OVER PROBABLY UMM... I'MA LOWBALL IT HERE CUZ I DON'T WANNA BRAG GUYS.... I KNOW SOME OF U AREN'T AS LUCKY AS ME.... I MEAN WHAT CAN I SAY???? I JUST HAVE THAT CHARM THAT DRAWS THEM TO ME.... i wish i could teach a class on how to get raped, but i devote way too much time to just sympathizing about rapists and standing in dark alleys wearing short skirts and no panties (OOH THAT'S A GOOD TIP) and acting really drunk.... (ANOTHER AWESOME TIP).... Yea I got all these fuckers FOOLED MAN... EVERYONE ALWAYS THINKS I'M DRINKING VODKA AND OJ ALL THE TIME.... but what it actually is is secret super DUPER PHEREMONE POWDER THAT JUST MAKES ME GET RAPED.... AND THEN AFTER MY ASSHOLE IS THE SIZE OF A TREE STUMP AND BLEEDING AND I AM IN THE SHOWER HUDDLED OVER MY ASS AND WATCHING THE BLOOD RUN INTO THE DRAIN.... I AM JUST thinking OVER AND OVER ABOUT THE POOR WITTLE RAPIST.... AND I SYMPATHISE WITH HIM.... THAT'S RIGHT FOLKS.... RAPIST SYMPATHIZER.... RIGHT HERE.... THIS IS MY BIG CONFESSION OF MY DIRTY LITTLE SECRET..... so please if you are a rapist you know who you can come and talk to and trust.... I am going to be starting a rape surrrogate therapy practice wherein i capture people off the street and provide the poor forgotten hated rapist with an unwilling victim.... and then i tell them that what they are doing is NOT WRONG.... and i can really UNDERSTAND WHAT they are going through as a RAPIST.... I mean... It's not easy being a rapist.... Like that shit can be dangerous... People NEVER seem to identify with the plight of the rapist... they just see some dumb whore in a short skirt whining and crying about having a knife to her throat and getting penetrated in the ass over and over and getting punched in the stomach and miscarrying a baby and waa waa.... cry cry cry..... we all know your manipulative sob stories.... I mean seriously, it's called WEAR A BURKHA BITCH!!!!!..... AND THOSE EYES BETTER BE FUCKING POKED OUT OR SOMETHING BECAUSE STOP SEDUCING THOSE FUCKING RAPISTS.... GODDAMN.... IT MAKES ME SO MAD THAT THERE ARE SO MANY MEN WALKING AROUND SO FIRED UP TO FUCK..... and like women just don't understand this???. I mean yea put that lipstick on bitch..... we all know that we're looking right at your hole.... and then those phallic ass heels y'all wear.... And YOU EXPECT TO NOT BE RAPED????. OMG.... GIMME A FUCKING BREAK.... I have recently come into a sum of money donated to me by a very famous rapist that i helped become enthusiastic about raping again... and i am starting the SERIOUS RAPIST GRANT..... THERE IS SOMEONE GUNNING FOR YOU GUYS..... and it's ME.... I know I had been called this before and I was afraid of what people might think of me, i mean I guess forcing sexual acts on someone is like uncool or something?!?!. I THINK we're being a LITTLE TOO P.C. HERE GUYS... I for one could not get money from the government for having PTSD if it were not for being sexually assulted so many times.... SO THANKS GUYS.... I ESPECIALLY THANK THE ONE BRAZILLIAN GUY WHO TRIED TO GET ME INTO A BED WITH HIM AND AN UNWILLING GIRL IN MY HOUSE AND HELP TO TIE HER DOWN AND RAPE HER WITH IT!!!!. THAT WAS A REAL DOOZIE!!!! OH YEA AND WHO COULD FORGET THE INCIDENT AT THE FLAT IRON BUILDING.... Back in the Good ol' days of Buddy Gallery, and going to Nick's pub afterwards and getting BLACKOUT WASTED..... AND ONE TIME THESE TWO LITTLE CUTIES TOOK ME BACK TO THEIR STUDIO AND DOUBLE TEAMED ME FOR HOURS AND HOURS.... LIL SWEETHEARTS THEY WERE!!!!. And they were KIND enough not only to double team me and scare me half to death HAHA.... BUT to INVITE EVERYONE FROM THE FLAT IRON BUILDING INTO THE ROOM TO SEE THE FUCKED UP DRUNK NAKED GIRL THEY HAD BOTH JUST FUCKED.... AND INVITE THEM TO WATCH IT AGAIN!!!!. LIL DEVILS THEY WERE.... HAHAH.... Yea rape is SOOO TRAUMATIC.... THAT'S ALL A MEDIA HOAX.... it's like put in movies and ads and stuff.... it's like the same thing like why do you buy a certain car, cuz you saw it in an ad... why do you hate rape??? cuz someone told you too.... I mean You can't listen to everything you hear... unless it's on the internet.... cuz the internet doesn't lie.... AND NEITHER DO ANARCHISTS.... EVER.... I have found out that they are the greatest group ever... without certain ones... I would have NEVER realized my true goal in life.... TO PROTECT RAPISTS!!!!. God.... talk about a group of people that are ostracized.... THEY CAN'T HELP IT.... THEY WERE BORN WITH RAPE APE ITIS.... IT'S A REAL DISEASE... look it up in WIKIPEDIA!!!!. It's this disease that makes you into a total brutish freak and you think that every hole is an extension of your cock (which it actually really should be) and you use it as such..... I mean these people don't need help... They need more VICTIMS.... so I WILL STAND UP AS A VICTIM TODAY AND PROUDLY WEAR MY PINK AND RED RIBBON (PINK FOR VAGINAS, RED FOR BLOOD AND STUFF) AND SHOW THE WORLD THAT JUST LIKE CERTAIN PEOPLE SAY..... I AM A RAPE SYMPATHIZER..... BUT PEOPLE.... I AM ONLY ONE PERSON.... WE NEED MORE PEOPLE.... MORE DEVOTEES.... I hope you will join me in my crusade to say HAY... RAPISTS ARE PEOPLE TOO.... i mean really.... what if your dad or brother was a rapist????. Could you REALLY hate them that much????. I mean I guess you could if they didn't ever rape you..... Oh god.... I couldn't imagine THAT TRAUMA.... I can't even think of it.... Having a close family member or friend or even partner or husband that raped others BUT NOT YOU!!!.. GOD..... I CAN ONLY HOPE THAT THAT NEVER HAPPENS TO ME..... but at the rate i'm going, I'll be getting raped more and more..... I'm damn sexy.... I'm drinking the rape juice..... I like to meet strange men.... I can't really fight back cuz I'm not that strong (or am I??)...

P.S. IF YOU ARE TOO DUMB AND YOU TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY YOU PROBABLY ALSO CONSIDER YOURSELF AN ANARCHIST.... sorry, that is a huge generization and i'd love to love you babies, but i have had nothing but horrible trouble with that group.... i just know though that people will take this seriously and i will get some off the wall comment like "HEY THAT'S FUCKED UP DUDE". I really hope people aren't that stupid... but I am constantly being astonished.... THIS IS SATIRE.... IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS LOOK IT UP IN WIKIPEDIA.... they never lie.... and neither do rapists or "rape victims".

P.P.S. there was a time in my life where i would always side with the victim... now it is upsetting that i keep finding that I am unsure what to think in some cases... It is very disturbing... I never want to doubt anyone's story... I would never discourage people to come out with their stories EVER.... BUT I FULLY UNDERSTAND WHY THEY DON'T..... IT'S FUCKING TRAUMATIC AND HORRIBLE.... AND IT'S JUST NOT LADYLIKE DINNER CONVERSATION.... "So how was your day today honey?". "Well, I was anally raped in a porta potty for two hours on a 90 degree day and almost suffocated to death".... (yes this really did happen to one of my male friends). But I mean it's hard to share a nice spaghetti and meatball dinner after revealing the details of your traumatic rape.... I ENCOURAGE YOU ALL TO COME OUT AND SAY WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU.... but don't use the word rape lightly.... It comes in many forms of course.... I used to think rape was only getting tackled by some guy in an alley and having a gun put to my head and having my clothes ripped off until a close friend of mine revealed that a former partner of mine tried to rape her in her sleep, and I honestly thought that was "normal" sex.... well It took her telling me to wake the fuck up and it is still very hard to vocalize the things that happened to me.... But being called a rapist sympathizer EVER is horrible and wrong... ESPECIALLY when a. you fucking aren't and not only aren't you but you have been raped...B. U ARE also being asked to apologize to people that you hardly know that are men who have never been sexually abused but are SOO disturbed about the fact that YOU YOURSELF MAY BE A RAPIST SYMPATHISER (i mean.... seriously.... does that fucking exist????) I know damn well that rapists exist.... but people whl literally go around saying "poor wittle wapist"...

WAKE THE FUCK UP..... WE HAVE REAL PROBLEMS IN THE WORLD BESIDES PEOPLE LIKE ME BEING RAPIST SYMPATHIZERS.... CAN I PLEASE MEET A GROUP OF PEOPLE THAT ARE HIGHLY POLITICAL THAT DON'T FUCKING CONSTANTLY GOSSIP LIKE ALL THE TIME????? IS THAT POSSIBLE??? I mean I definately know some good folks, but many of them seem to be such bad eggs giving the other ones who actually do shit a bad name.... OK ENOUGH RANTING....

MAY ALL THE POOR, SEX STARVED, DOE EYED, SWEET HEARTED RAPISTS SLEEP WELL TONITE AND KNOW THAT THEY HAVE A FUCKING SUPPORTER..... VICTIMS OR "SURVIVORS" (btw.... i really hate that word.... I don't like victim much either but who the fuck is to tell who "survived" shit.... and what does a survivor even mean??... that you're able to live on a tropical island fuck and play goofy games and be on channel 2???..) idk.... whatevs.... SLEEP WELL AS WELL KNOWING THAT THERE ARE SO MANY MISUNDERSTOOD RAPISTS OUT THERE.....

All the Best.

In unsound Mind...

Meg McCarville.

BEWARE THE PLAGUE OF LOCUST (fans)

BEWARE THE PLAGUE OF LOCUST (FANS)- AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL ACCOUNT FROM AN INDIE ROCK INTERNET TERRORIST.

I have to start this story by going back about 12 years... let's say 1999... A much simpler time. A time before 9-11 had occured. A time when the end of humanity was not constantly tapping us on the shoulder to remind us that the horsemen were on their way to get us. A time when people in turbans were simply referred to as "camel jockies" not terrorists. A time that the only needles that were ever stuck in my arm were to give me vaccines by doctors. A time when the Fireside Bowl was the main place to go and kids of any age could attend the shows there, and Logan Square was the "cool" neighborhood to live in in Chicago. A time where it seemed like every rock show I did attend seemed to revolve around one type of music and style where people dressed in all black, with pants that fit like a second skin, and everyone had black hair that was perfectly coiffed and hairsprayed into a beautiful work of art that was often referred to as "the spock". A time when people cared about their appearance and were all skinny and beautiful and fashion mattered and clothing was not just some semen covered shit smelling rag that you threw over your body just to cover up your fat rolls or track marks or whatever pockmarked venerial disease that covers your body. Kids CARED about their appearance. It took TIME to fix their hair and butter and squirm their fat legs into their way too skinny pants. You used to be able to trace the outlines of every hair, vein, and wrinkle of the phallices of the barely post pubescent males that frequented the Fireside Bowl in their tight black pants..... A friday night at the Fireside Bowl presented a scene that NAMBLA, as a collective entity, could not even imagine if they used even the most super superior superb pervert old man boy loving imaginations... OOOh.... If I had only lost my 'rape virginity' earlier, if I was the twisted perverse broken down hooker trash freak that I am today what I would do to those boys would make Marquis DeSade himself weep... Those wonderful boys.... That fashion.... My unscarred arms.... the in tact twin towers.... ((FINALLY HAD TO MASTURBATE TO THAT LAST ONE)). A simpler time... an easier time... THE GREATEST GENERATION. And then there was HIM. At the center of this hot new ultra cool nambla cock dripping style seemed to be ONE BAND... ONE MAN... THE KING OF THE SPOCKS... HIM... THE MERE UTTERANCE OF HIS NAME WOULD SHATTER EVERY PIECE OF GLASS IN A ROOM... To bask in a mere image of him would surely cause a Jihad amongst the most peaceful of Buddhist monks... And trying to possibly recant being in HIS UBER DIVINE BEYOND GODLIKE Presence, myself being an inferior jackall of a mortal with a penchant for stringing language together and every word in the english language to possibly describe it (it being, being in HIS PRESENCE, if you forgot, I did) I would not even dare attempt to. Mick Jagger be DAMNED... David Bowie, heh, David SMHOWIE... JESUS WHO?... The BURST OF PHEREMONES alone when JUSTIN PEARSON entered a room would make every female within a fifteen mile radius squirt so hard and so violently that San Diego, CA, the holyland where HE chose to reside, suffered from a bout of massive floods of female jism. In fact in the summer of 1998, it is a little known fact and is said to be a government coverup that the San Diego neighborhood where HE resided, Hillside, had to be raised 300 feet above sea level due the frequency at which he was seen and the sheer amount of cum that at once engulfed it. The government paid 30 billion dollars to do this because they knew that this UBER DIETY needed a residence. Just like you or I! and they quickly constructed an invisible mountain so that HE may walk around his neighborhood safely without danger of the homes being engulfed by the involuntary squirting of sooo many woman. HIS NAME WAS JUSTIN PEARSON... such a modest name for SUCH A PERFECT BEING. A reliable source claims that he was born with his proper moniker Perfect McPerfect Ubersexy Rockstar Makesyoucuminyourpants, but he changed it because he chose to walk the earth with the mortals and his modesty was fierce. His Band, as if I even need to say the name, as if man woman or child walking the planet does not know, was called THE LOCUST. There is no need for me to go into their story... Everyone knows how the band was formed... the volcano, the second coming of Muhammed, the pentium 6 guitar that fell from niburu that Pearson caught with his 45 inch unerect phallus, we all know how they were formed. IT HAS BEEN WRITTEN. And I am no prophet, so I need not write it again. And for that year 1999, many brainless fools unfortunately got the mark of the Locust tattooed upon them in an effort to get into their numerous live (I would hate to merely call them shows) shows free of charge. The attempts were all in vein because what these poor fools could not grasp is that the mark of the Locust could NEVER make them what they wanted to be, or save them 8 bux on a Saturday night. Justin Pearson was of course BORN with the mark of THE LOCUST and a stupid plagarized tattoo of the band would never bring them closer to HIM. But, what can be said about humans except that we are flawed. The man was a God walking the earth, not unlike the HOPE DIAMOND IN A PORT-O-LET. How could we not want to look, dress, act, talk, walk, fuck, smell, drive, order food, open a door, pull out a chair, play baseball, hold a fork, eat a hamburger, remove a sock, step on a nail, wear a kimono, cook a hotdog, smack your son, laugh at a fat lady falling down at wal-mart, or play guitar like this "person" who embodied everything that was everything about rock and roll, sex appeal, and penis size?. Again... We are humans... WE ARE FLAWED... It was JUST A different time THEN. A different time..... I mean like you know the internet had barely been invented, It was all about raw sex and love back then... It was not the ugly dog orifice of a deathtrap we unwillingly drag our sick lonely bodies to get violently ass raped at our siberian death camps they like to call jobs and try with every muscle that still barely works in our dying bodies to perhaps crack something sadly resembling a smile to convince ourselves that this cold wasteland that we suffer through day in and day out is worth rolling our cum soaked emaciated bodies out of our vermin infested beds each day to live this life... Yep. A different time. 1999. A time when Justin Pearson and the Locust ruled the FUCKING GALAXY!!!!.

END OF PART 1.