My Life

I had an awesome thought.. .  it involved a Billy Joel song and a reference to Bosom Buddies....  alas im so FUCKING sleepy, i forgot it....

Bouncing off the MOTHERFUCKING walls

I believe in old wives tales.  They remind me of my Oma.  She had the craziest of old wife tales... Like when Sabrina ate a coin she had nothing but sauerkraut for dinner for a week....   yanno to poop it right out....  and Whenever I had the sniffles I would be put in a hot bath and then tucked in to bed every night for 2 days straight...  every night with hot tea and vicks vapor rub on my man chesticles...  that was a 2 day remedy for my Oma.

It never failed.

I am beside the point...  I just remembered a happy time of my life.  That kind of nostalgia/affection brings you right to the point...

That being said...

I love my bestfriend with all my heart.

Seriously.. Kina Bowden... i fuckin love you bestie.

Gardening

Is this a love of explosion
am i lucky enough for it to be an incident
allowing me to take you in
i say exhale all the time
but for this
all i want is an inhale


let me suck it in
let me, let me, let me.


that is so demanding
I apologize

Come live with me
so we can plant tomatos

Come live with me
so we can listen to music together

California knows no seasons
fake winter and autumn with me

Why is this so hard?

I know you hear me

plant tomato with me.

Happy Birthday Monster

My niece is turning 7 in a week. I should be happy, right?

FUCK THAT. I'm anxious as all get out.

In my eyes she is the most beautiful creature to walk the earth. So I'm more than freaking out.

Elvis dated a minor... whatshername... Priscilla?  She was 13 or so when he moved her in...  Jerry Lee Lewis, Charlie Chaplin, the list goes on.

Imagine how freaked out am I right now that she is becoming an age where predators like the aforementioned can target her.

I am not ready to go to jail. But on my life, if something happens, I will.

A response to a question...

I am evangelical.

For you uneducated heathens that means I believe in Jesus as my savior.  I mean, history has proved as much.

That does not mean I deny philosophy and what I think is the accurate way to live life.

Case in point the name of my fucking blog.  ShoutsNothing.

I stole it from a book, a cartoon one at that.  It changed my life.

My dad introduced me to Buddhism.  He was a Green Beret and a war hero.  He tried to embrace Buddhism yet due to his own personal demons he also beat the shit out of me during most of my formative years.
War is hell.

Yet he strengthened my chin by personally teaching me to box and gave me the greatest lesson in life.

How never to treat children.

Please believe, I do NOT have a glass jaw. Many a left and right hook solidified that..

So on that note I say to you thus.

Jesus is our savior and the son of God.  Buddha and Buddhism has a heavy hand in how I believe we should live our lives.

Am I confused, backwards, wrong?

Maybe.. but this is what I believe and I'm sticking to it.

This lion is currently roaring.

Reflection

I just went through my blog after my most recent post and saw countless grammatical errors and whut not.


I don't edit these ramblings.. I write and post, zero reflection.  I know the 3 people who actually read this know as much.  So if you care about grammar, spelling, or content.

Go eat a dick.

Terrorist or Poet?

Ever since my vacation I have not bothered to shave.

I look like a young Oscar Brown Jr.  One of my favorite poets.

I am not ashamed.. secretly I think I like the fact I kinda sorta look like him.

My only lament is that I somewhat resemble, with this beard, a terrorist of sorts.  Unabomber, Osama?!

Does your facial hair and general attitude.. one of a recluse define your personality?   Does it make you either unlovable or adored by infidels?

Meh, I am going to shave tomorrow morning no matter what.  If you care to ask why I'll explain.

I visited my friend earlier today.  She did not kiss me on the cheek or lips as she normally does.

 The forest that has become my face shoo'd her away.

Oscar Brown Jr.,  you have been replaced by the affection I receive  from my friend.

Living forever

I want to make something that makes me immortal.  I write jokes, i blog, i twitter..  yet I want something in my life that i can press to text or sound out and record that makes me remembered, forever.

I know that is a selfish notion yet I have it nonetheless.


I have decided to write a screenplay.  A movie that will never be filmed, I get that.  I just hope to God that something of myself will imprint on the general public in order to make me remembered.


I figured this stupid notion of writing a movie is the first step

I'm a selfish fuck who wants to be remembered.. lalalalala...  yeah, i get that.

The movie i'm writing is self absorbed, selfish, and almost trivial.  I get that.

It's super fun tho!

Action drama, you are about to meet your highly under qualified match!






Ridicule is the worst that can happen.  Who knows? It might actually be good.

Happy 4th of July

So this blog is about fuckholes, civil rights, courage, mental illness, and loss.

I made my bitch mad the other day.  She didn't express it because she is ridiculously well behaved,  but I know my bitch and she was annoyed.

How?  Excessive use of the word Nigger/Nigga.

It's a word I grew up using.  It's in my lexicon. I use it almost daily.  I'm a black male.  The word tends to pop up.

Can't be halped.

I know its hypocritical of me to use it seeing as just a few weeks ago I was almost put into prison due to some psycho who kept calling me a Nigger in public.  I got fed up becuase he repeated it to me and I tuned him up pretty good.  There was a hospital visit involved.

His face and my knuckles both needed patching up.

I also think its funny that she loves it when I call her my personal filthy fuckhole during sexytime.
Yet hearing Nigga somehow crosses the line.  It's ok.  Everyone has their limit as to what they can deal with. 

Her sucking my cock in full view of my friends?  Not a big deal.

Her hearing me say "What's up my nigga?!"  Houston we have a problem.

So in honor of her squeamishness at the word I am going to refrain as much as humanly possible from saying Nigger/Nigga.  I'm sure it wont be hard.

I'm no Paula Deen.

I am also going to speak on whom I think is one the greatest civil rights fighters you have probably never heard about.

Enter William Lewis Moore.

He is white.  Not that it matters but I mentioned courage earlier and the fact he is white and did what he did screams courage.


He was a hero to the civil rights movement but in a tragic sense.  Along with Emmit Till, Medger Evars. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and ultimately President Kennedy. Moore's efforts are only recognized posthumously.

Mr. Moore was a mail man and his job was delivering letters.

There was one letter he wanted to deliver.  One of protest of segregation to the Governor of Mississippi.

So in protest of segregation he decided to walk to the Governors mansion from his home town of Chattanooga, Tennessee.

Along the way he was interviewed by a local radio DJ who implored Moore to stop his walk due to the almost certainy that he was to be murdered by supremacists along his journey.  He refused.  He wanted to make an impact,  God bless his soul.


He was murdered execution style a mile or so down the road after being warned of his more than likely death.

William Lewis Moore was a patriot.  He was a borderline schizoprenic. He was a hero.  He should be recognized and missed.

I know he is a small drop of water in a large pool of great people who acted against oppression but until now,  have you heard of him?

If you have im sure you understand where I am coming from.

If you have not and are an American, you just read the story of an American patriot.

Happy 4th of July.

The 2nd time a gun was held to my head...

Sometimes I worry about how open I am. Yet I still write shit down for all to see, my thoughts, my hopes, my experiences..

I know for certain I have lived more before the age of 25 than most people have their entire lifetime.  That was then, now I adhere to a semi-workaholic existence.

I keep a steady paycheck and an interesting personal/love life. That is my routine and I enjoy it.

I used to live life a lot more exciting, and a whole lot differently.

"Oh fuck you Andre!, stop trying to showcase!"  I understand if that might be something you are thinking to yourself.  

I promise you that is not my intent.

I don't know, maybe I am peacocking, but the following is one of those life events that prove the aforementioned few sentences.  

Here goes.

During high school I had a very good friend by the name of Darius.  We eventually became roommates for a year while I was at San Jose State and we were both working at Earthlink.  I was the one who got him the job, since he needed a desk job due to an injury he occurred in my presence.

A bullet through both of his legs.

Darius growing up lived next door neighbor to a guy name Bob.  A longtime childhood friend of Darius, Bob lost his parents at a young age in a car accident, I believe, and lived with his grandma.  Bob had no fear.  I remember racing him on Highway 101 in my car during mid-day traffic. I rarely won.   Bob didnt give a fuck.  He would go on the side of the freeway, where it was just gravel, and kick up so crazy dust and smoke.  Then when he saw an opening he would swerve back onto the highway.

Bob was a savage.

When Bob graduated high school he used the insurance money from his parents death and bought a condo.  Darius and him moved in together.

The thing is, Bob had a baby momma who he basically disavowed because his Grandmother couldn't stand her, and for good reason.  She was an evil cunt.

So B-oh-beeezes (aka BOB) and Darius' condo became the chill spot.  We would bring back bitches,  watch games, smoke, and all around hang out there.. it was off the chain for a hot minute.

Then Bob started selling crack.  He didn't need the money,  he just had that niggerish Nino Brown mentality and wanted to hustle.

As most things in the dope game went,  he finally got caught up.  He went to jail.

Now with Bob in jail his baby mom wanted that condo.  She knew he was going to be gone for awhile and wanted the spot from Darius.  Bob's grandma told Darius and her that it was Darius's decision. Darius said no.

She didn't take that lightly, not at all.

So one evening my cousin Terrance and I went to the condo to hang out with Darius before we were slated to go to a movie with a high school friend of ours Michelle V.

We called her and she said she was almost there.

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door.  We opened it to see two young black males.  They asked if Bob was there.  Darius promptly told them that he was currently locked up.  They then asked to use the phone, a question Darius seemed unsure of.  During that uncertainty  two guns came out and they forced their way into the condo.

We were instructed to get on the floor and then we were beaten a few times with gun handles to our heads.  Strangely enough I was not frightened.  I have had a gun pulled on me and have been shot at a few times prior to this happening.  I was more annoyed than anything.  I even said, "This shit, again?!"

While we were on the floor Terrance was instructed to give them his watch.  Which his smart ass replied with, "Come on man, its a fucking Swatch!"

I was told to give them my keys, to which I lied saying, "I didn't drive!"  

Keys were in my pocket the entire time.

Then a shot rang out. A name was whispered in Darius's ear.  They broke all the light bulbs in the lamps of the house.  (even the police were baffled by that one)

They ran off.

Darius said he was hurt. 

I went to him and saw blood gushing from his leg.  Now while I wanted to help apply pressure to the wound I didn't want to ruin the shirt I was wearing.  I had seen The Roots a few nights prior and was still wearing the concert shirt.  I removed that shirt, then my wife beater and used that to press down hard on his bullet wound.

The police were called and eventually an officer showed up and very warily inspected the condo with his gun drawn.

The ambulance showed and the EMT's commended me on my applying pressure to his wound.

Then Michelle V. showed up and freaked out.

We were questioned by the detectives due to their assumption it was a drug deal gone bad.  We didn't lie.  We told them the truth.  Everything matched up.

We called Darius's parents and met with them at the hospital prior to his surgery.  It was going to take a few hours until we got any word on his condition.  I went to my sisters house.  I was stressed out.

Terrance took the time to fuck Michelle V. after knowing her for about 30 minutes.

Moral of the story is;

Oh what the fuck do I know.. my friend got shot, an undershirt was ruined, a condo was lost,  and my family got some pussy during a moment of crisis.

Isn't life a trip?

Random

I don't have anything to say yet im compelled to write anyways.

I sit here at 514am not able to sleep so I think about what I can do as the most productive use of my time.
I got it. I'll write nonsense for a few people to read.  Let's begin, I will talk about my day in general.

I talked to my bestfriend, my mommy, several other good friends, and to cake.  It was a good day.

I had a couple awesome orgasms, I ate a chicken pot pie, and I got my nails did.

I listened to a podcast that made me laugh my ass off and inspired me to think about writing down my comedic thoughts.

I watched an old show that used to PISS ME THE FUCK OFF because it involves people with a bar code tattoo.  The show premiered a few months after I already had my barcode tattoo.  It always made me think that people thought I got mine because of the show.

I am a fucking original.
That show copied me. 
Fuck you James Cameron. 

Also, I have always wanted a pet pig.  Fuck you Honey Boo Boo and Paris Hilton.




Stupid no-pets rule at my house.

Whelp it's time to power nap before I goto the office.

Thanks for reading, pumpkin.

Happy Mothers Day

Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children.

I heard that in a movie once and it totally stuck with me. I am a proud Mama's boy.  I dont give a fuck.  I still call my mom, mommy and you can suck my fat dick if it bothers you.

Like I said, I don't give a fuck.

The only downside is that it has ruined a few relationships.  I was once asked by a girlfriend to put her on the same level as my mom.  Our relationship ended shortly thereafter and although she is trying to patch it back together something should have been said. 

I didn't say it at the time nor since, but... "bitch are you crazy?"

That is my mother.  My daily phone call.  The only person on this planet that I know loves me as much or more than I love her.

I do not mean to lessen a sisters or a brothers love.

But a mother's love knows no bounds.  It is as pure as driven snow and FUCK anyone who thinks otherwise.

This little rant which should be common knowledge to anyone reading it who isn't a sociopath.

Anyways, this rant was brought upon by thinking about BB Guns..

When she was a teenager she was accidentally shot in the eye with a BB Gun by her brother.

She has a slight cross eye due to it but she is still the most beautiful person in the world to me.
When it comes to her son her vision has never been impaired.  She helped me get out of my hole when I was in my dark place by doing nothing else than jumping down into it with me and shining a light. 

She forgave me for my countless sins and has grown to respect me for the man I am today.

I fucking love my mommy.

Yeah, I said it. Mommy.

Palm to my stomach

The following is about an ex-girlfriend.


Let me preface the following with that I am NOT claiming to be cock diesel.  Only one ex has insisted on keeping her hand on my stomach.  The rest said nothing else but, "dig deep Daddy".  That was what I was used too. She also had another kink explained in the following poem.

Dear Natalie

I hate that relaxed stop and go piss

The stop and go

its not for me

I want my streams to be like Queen

and break free

But when its in your hand

its thick and hard

And with a mind of its own

I've beat him, i've pierced him

I express a love for him no one else has ever known

Except maybe you?

So listen.

I need to please him

with a dark warm wet place of his own

So I shove him into you for that sweet escape

who actually writes poems about pissing? is that even commonplace?

But this poem in truth is about you and our cock.

Your palm on my stomach

dictating my depth and pace

I know you prefer to hold it

but this is a different kind of race

To fuck, release, cum, finish

To do what he do!

so go ahead and hold my cock while I pee

I know that's your kink

and in honesty its timid enough a kink for me not to shun

but afterwards

Its my turn for fun.

Remove your fucking palm.


~


We were together for a year. I really dug her and she was GORGEOUS!
But the cock wants what the cock wants.


C'est La Vie

My intangible lover

What is it about music that just makes you feel so fucking good? I sleep to it and wake up to it.  I listen to it throughout my day.  It's constantly in my ear and to be honest, I wish I had the ability to thank it properly.  I love you music.  You have been there for me during my break ups, my losses, the times I was on drugs,  and then when I came off of them.  You have soothed me when I had anxiety,  you lifted me when I was down.  I consider you a friend of the most special sort.

Thank you music. I appreciate you in your entirety.

Seriously, check my iPad. If there is a part of you I havent touched upon just let me know.

It will be added and appreciated.

40 years in the desert.

I love being able to say I had a good day because I accomplished greatness. 

Is that selfish?

Does that mean I am speaking of myself?  I know I do it a lot.  I brag and thats horrid.. I know I should stop it but I am a special kind of awesome and people need to know.

See, there I go again.

Let's shelve that and speak on people I love instead.

My rock aka my mommy. 

She dotes and is incredibly good at it. 

Annoyingly so.

Kina my bestfriend whom knows more about me than anyone.

I want to hug her.

Bob whom is fated to accept my seed.

The monster and max.

Max standing up before meeting his first birthday.

Mia saying sorry in the cutest form EVER and getting away with murder when she fucks up.

See here I was about to talk about the most important people in my life and all I could think of was the staccato form of my writing.

What kind of narcissist am I?

Can narcissim be limited to pen on paper?  I don't know.. i love my friends and family.. as does my checking account, but good lord.  It's all about me, me, me.. isn't it?

I am there for my friends. I am good at that. I would bleed or die for them yet my focus in inner thought tends to be limited to my trials and tribulations.

HAHAHAHA.. like im fucking Moses.

I am not.

I should seek help.

This

is

not

natural.

I'm back?

The following is probably going to miss a few "Y"'s.

Damn my keyboard.


I love new relationships and what they entail.  I adore friendships and what they continue to bring to me.  A good friendship is like the herpes of good feelings.  Just when you thought it was gone.. poof!  It's back.  It's the gift that keeps on giving and i love it.  I love Kina.  I love Bob.  I love sobriety.  I love my new relationship.

I don't really have a theme or topic for this rant but I felt the need to write so here I am. Have you ever felt that way? Not horny but you fap anyways?  Me too.

Duck.. i'm a sharpshooter and I aim for the eyes.

So lalalalala.. hahaha.. i'm going to reflect on this and curse myself for it.  This text makes no sense yet here i sit writing away.

Who am I kidding.. this isnt worth putting up on the blog i so neglect.. it will be an errant thought for a few minutes and then forgotten forever.  I am ok with that.  I enjoy the fact that juices other then the man kind got flowing. I still sit scared to make my words public.. but..  I mentioned this to someone so who knows?  It may be placed tomorrow or even the next day.  Doubtful.


So, for today, i sit here, wishing i had courage.