fun fact: on an old version of this page it showed minimum browser requirements, and one of them was netscape.
name - spillane
8/28/2019 8:20:06 PM
Everything seems so boring to me now. I don’t know how much of this is a part of getting older… I attribute to “novel” things. When you where young everything was new. Now what used to be exciting, stuff like, “hey I have a pay check, like hey I can stay in a hotel room on my own with my own money, hey I can order a beer, hey I can stay up as late as I want…” these were the new things and mostly they lead to more new things, like meeting a girl that kept flicking her hair and smiling at you like a feverish mare with slender ebony legs. You would question yourself.
Now the new, new is your old bones grinding themselves into the granite of your other none responsive bones. Now the new, new is looking at road signs as if trying to find a sniper in a bush, you just cant see it as hard as you look until it is too late for the exit. Note to self, eyesight shouldn’t never be on the back burner…
I was super impressed when I went down and hung out with Chris last, he was all like
“I am done with the internet, I have Finished the internet”
“I don’t get on Facebook”
“I’m and old man now, I like reading the newspaper and listening to Jazz while I drink coffee”
He really just jumped right into it!
It was like, this is the new, I will make it my new, new.
At the same time I see Wes and Johannes creating their new, new.
I see Frank creating his new, new, new, new…
When I peel back the layers, I am reminded of the many artists, there are two types of artists,
1. Those who create great art and check out, they do their thing and they have nothing left to give, the first I can think of is J.D. Salinger, REM, etc.. I can think of others across all the arts, in music there are many great bands that just create and build something that is so amazing and just drop off, that’s it.
2. Then there are artists that are truly fucking artists and they will never stop no mater what happens.
My kids once asked me about Radiohead, they love Radiohead and they said “do you think they will stop making music” and I said yes… they then asked me “Do you think Thom Yorke will stop make music”
Because Thom Yorke is like Bob Dylan, they are the true creatives of our world.
I have fun thinking about my new, new and I hope you like it when it happens to the you, you.
Because this is all you got.
name - spillane
email - email@example.com
9/8/2017 9:24:34 PM
it still feels good to see wankers out there. you go!
name - spillane
email - Jspillane@hotmail.com
8/4/2017 10:06:33 PM
bangers and mash wankers, bangers and mash.
name - Dank Donald
12/11/2016 7:57:45 AM
name - Dank Dolan
email - firstname.lastname@example.org
12/11/2016 7:53:35 AM
▄░▐░░░▄▄░█░▀▀ U HAVE BEEN SPOOKED BY THE
SHARE WITH 5 OTHER PEOPLE OR HE'll ELECT DONALD TRUMP
name - Braden
1/28/2016 8:03:17 AM
name - Mike A.
email - email@example.com
12/18/2015 5:14:15 AM
I'm still in Belgium and it seems that Spillane is still out there kicking, somewhere. Last I heard he was in the thawing north playing nurse or something in the penultimate state. It doesn't rain as much in Belgium as it did when he was here but the soccer hasn't improved much either.
name - James Spillane
email - firstname.lastname@example.org
12/15/2015 7:46:25 PM
Colby sucks wang...where does he live now? with his perfect skin.
name - c
9/22/2015 1:17:17 PM
man, this place is still around? that chris holland is one super guy for keeping this alive for so long.
name - thought this was good
7/15/2014 10:37:32 PM
Cold night, hold me. Hold night, cold me
name - james
7/14/2014 10:09:49 PM
are you watching Kim here? i think i like her writing more than my own, it is like a subplot.
name - Surrender
7/5/2014 2:03:41 AM
Fettered by feathers of unnecessary worries,
Sticks and stones take place
Love lingers in walls both too young
To talk and too old
The root, the stem, the leaf, the flower
Color the crevices and fill space
Between the lines
The dragonfly flutters
The bird swallows a song
The hearts melt upon the canvas
name - ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
5/18/2014 10:14:29 PM
The weirdest part about being me is that I don’t exist. It is like I am an image of you, like I am sort of amateur OS from the movie HER. Not real in anyway shape or from. Just trying on your emotions and life like tee shirts from the GAP. I remember reading the book Nudge, where they were talking about how putting a sticker on someone’s car on driving safely will somehow allow you to put a big orange diamond sign a week later in their yard saying “drive safely” but if you asked them first out right to put the sign in the yard, “hey can we put this big fucking sign in your yard” something like 80% say no… but if you start with the sticker first, the adoption rate is something like 85% putting the sign up in their front yard.
Day in and day out this is my bread and butter but I don’t understand it? You silly people. If they ever came to my door I would just say yes or no. depending on how I felt. I could put a sticker on my car and forget and say no when you came around the next time. Indifferent. Sometimes it seems like I know you more than I know myself.
Maybe it all got buried somewhere and it will come back to me like magnolia trees.
Was reading this interesting article today about “terms and Agreements” in the information age, about how all our data is being stored, manifested, harvested, every search, profile, location, like, look in known and aggregated, an algorithm. Promises by the hour.
It’s all a bunch of bullshit, these guys could fuck up a wet dream. They have bosses that have bosses that don’t understand them just the same. When it all comes down to it, it is how good you can talk around a bon fire, a room full of people, in a cab ride home.
How good are you at being them?
Without ever knowing exactly who you are.
name - c
2/8/2014 9:45:43 PM
wood fire stoves are like record players...
name - cb
2/22/2013 12:46:56 AM
We're sitting on the porch in wooden rocking chairs looking out over a meadow of grass as green as the hills grow in the Northern Country. We're 60...no, 70. You start to say something, but it's pointless. What's been needed has already been heard and what's left is already known. Like that. In soft wool sweaters and cotton slacks with Spring's breezy kiss. That's how it will be.
name - c
2/13/2013 7:55:31 PM
we're still here...
name - huh
8/23/2012 12:44:04 AM
the plane crashed with me in the cockpit.
name - kim.4
7/23/2012 11:36:04 PM
We are playing a game where the pieces are always moving
The best way around this is to not play the game but to invent it…
You and people like you are "in what we call the reality-based community," which he defined as people who "believe that solutions emerge from your judicious study of discernible reality.”... "That's not the way the world really works anymore…We're an empire now, and when we act, we create our own reality. And while you're studying that reality—judiciously, as you will—we'll act again, creating other new realities, which you can study too, and that's how things will sort out. We're history's actors…and you, all of you, will be left to just study what we do."
You would see the oceans and the mountains shook if you really looked.
It was like my hand was moving the banks were closed and nothing was bigger
I have seen footage
I can actually tell you what the average response to the next six words I say will be
Your hair looks good actually great…
Your shoes are new,
Like your shirt
Until 46 nipples and a million lips of the other kind aggregate themselves into my history
Girls that have to shave, trim their eyebrows, dye their arm hair, sort them out because they are the best because they have a testosterone imbalances that makes them more like me, more lion, less lioness
Plucking at night
Musk in underwear
Soft gentile storks though my hair
Nipples hard in mouth
Pushing against my quadriceps in a squeezing motion as my finger does all the work backdoor
You can smell them
I can smell you before you talk
And her in my photos that I take and the offspring that I make
Darkness, on my run tonight, I was going down all these warm streets and it kept getting darker and warmer, it felt like I could crawl into a bush of sorts and just get really dark so dark that I would wonder where I was like I was moving down the synapses of my own minds.
When it is all said and done, it’s the niggas you can go to war with.
We all have this trauma of sorts, you might have seen the darkest of moments but have you created them and then had to live with them, maybe this is what war teaches us, until we crawl backwards into this absurdity of our own condition, learn to crawl out and create.
You can, I can, we can build a million bridges, cure cancer if you will, but it will never compare to bringing a life into a world, that is a true creation… to make the movement from destroying a life to creating a life is pretty amazing. You have seen footage.
The full spectrum
and it is worth living for...
name - ><
12/16/2011 8:34:41 PM
last night i dreamt it was all a dream...
name - we make
email - jspillane@hotmail,com
12/5/2011 9:16:56 PM
We felt like we could just keep laying it over and over and over again until the experience became something that the listener, the reader, user client, had to pull out off a dank pile of dog shit.
You don’t get it but you will.
name - dig
email - email@example.com
11/30/2011 11:07:28 PM
love it, keep it coming oh mad one.
name - ak
11/14/2011 1:07:16 AM
Somebody said they saw me swinging the world by the tail, bouncing over a white cloud, killing the blues.
name - jjh
9/27/2011 5:06:44 PM
this is your friendly johnny america customer service representative tracking you down. if you want your unrequested perpetual subscription to continue, please advise re current address.
jjh for the moon rabbit drinking club & benevolence society
name - ak
9/4/2011 10:43:54 PM
Rum and cokes and cars that look like toasters. Hitting roundabouts at high speeds and riding home on rims. Cheese and wine and sex in the bath tub. Awe to be young again. Tonight I think I will toast to a time, to us.