Match und Measure
Drug Addiction Sexual Addiction
Psychic Dependence Love
Tolerance Estrangement
Withdrawal Distress Loss of a loved one
--Psychic Pain --Loneliness
--Lacrimation --Crying
--Anorexia --Loss of appetite
--Depression --Despondency
--Insomnia --Sleeplessness
--Aggressiveness --Irritability
dickcarter, comparably contrasting
“Terrence, This Is Stupid Stuff…”
“Terrence, this is stupid stuff: Therefore, since the world has still
You eat your victuals fast enough; Much good, but much less good than ill,
There can’t be much amiss, ‘tis clear, And while the sun and moon endure
To see the rate you drink your beer. Luck’s a chance, but trouble’s sure,
Bu oh, good Lord, the verse you make, I’d face it as a wise man would,
It gives a chap the belly-ache. And train for ill and not for good.
The cow, the old cow, she is dead; ‘Tis true, the stuff I bring for sale
It sleeps well, the horned head: Is not so brisk a brew as ale:
We poor lads, ‘tis our turn now Out of a stem that scored the hand
To hear such tunes as killed the cow. I wrung it in a weary land.
Pretty friendship ‘tis to rhyme But take it: if the smack is sour,
Your friends to death before their time The better for the embittered hour;
Moping melancholy mad: It should do good to heart and head
Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad.” When your soul is in my soul’s stead;
And I will friend you, if I may
In the dark and cloudy day.
Why, if ‘tis dancing you would be, There was a king reigned in the East:
There’s brisker pipes than poetry. There, when kings will sit to feast,
Say, for what were hop-yards meant, They get their full before they think
Or why was
Oh many a peer of
Livelier liquor than the Muse, From the many-venomed earth;
And malt does more than
To justify God’s ways to man. He sampled all her killing store;
Ale, man, ale’s the stuff to drink And easy, smiling, seasoned sound,
For fellows whom it hurts to think: Sate the king when healths went round.
Look into the pewter pot They put arsenic in his meat
To see the world as the world’s not And stared aghast to watch him eat;
And faith, ‘tis pleasant till ‘tis past: They poured strychnine in his cup
The mischief is that ‘twill not last. And shook to see him drink it up:
Oh I have been to
And left my necktie God knows where, Them it was their poison hurt.
And carried halfway home, or near, -I tell the tale that I heard told.
Pints and quarts of
Then the world seemed none so bad,
And I myself a sterling lad;
And down in lovely much I’ve lain,
Happy till I woke again.
Then I saw the morning sky:
Heigho, the tale was all a lie;
The world, it was the old world yet,
I was I, my things were wet,
And nothing now remained to do
But begin the game anew.
-A.E. Housman
the lost art of a simple postcard...a message in a bottle for those of us consigned to a land locked, lugubrious lifestyle. some go overboard. most try and fail miserably. others dont even bother. then theres derp.
check out the simplistic skinny i just got in the mail (a picture of the actual postcard would be best, but unfortunately i have no camera)...thanks dude, youve made my day.
oh and yeah, while i would normally bash someone who made as many mistakes (2002? 3400 Crosby?), these errors only serve to explain the lackadaisical lurch and drive the point home that he was having such a good time that editing was utterly unnecessary.
check 'er out...it dont get much kooler than this.
Dick Carter
Dickard,
½ in the bag & ¾ in the Jacuzzi! Mmmmhmmm. The Beach is THE place to go on vacation. It's the best time I've had in awhile. Oh, check this, there's a 250 ft. Lazy River!! And I like my rivers like I like my Life, LAZY! Wish ya could be here.
Sippin & Dippin
George
vs. 
she's definitely outta her head!
ms minogue shouldve never split from mr gooding. not only is he wildly hot and light years cooler than the others, but he was so steady and sure. now she's with that squinty, grease ball olivier martinez who clearly has sex pot angelina jolie in his eyes. oh kylie, i knew you would lose the fever, when all you wanted was more, more, more!
sad little washed up diva from down under...shouldnt let boy trouble ruin such a short lived, global career. the disco needed you. dont think the dance floor fags can save you this time.
dc
MY NEW LIFE GUIDE
fighting. such an odd thing to do. especially when it gets physical. seems as if the common reaction is "these people are nuts!" "why are they doing this? theyre so brutal...so animalistic...so drunk and angry." but ya know, is it any different than any other reactionary behavior? for example, is a physical altercation that far removed from, say, a verbal bout? friends cursing your existence over cheap and tawdry concepts and dice rolling whores isnt really any different. its all in the reaction. but, i believe it should work the other way around. right?
so its come to this. im not entirely certain i know how to process the fact that i spent a portion of last evening in the throws of violence. it certainly would make things a little easier if i had at least one person to turn to...to ask why. but i dont. i only have the memory of white hot anger, mixed with searing pain. and while the authorities were allegedly called, they likewise failed to arrive and help me resolve this issue.
walking somewhere, i really didnt know where, bare footed, i had an opportunity to put it into perspective. but i didnt. repeating what had happened to me and the rest to the only available ear (the only ear period...and, the real kicker is that its the ear i so often refuse) should, under normal circumstances, have helped me put my finger on how to come around and get a grip on what happened. but it didnt. what to do?
write. thats it, ill write. im shedding while writing...the experience has actually taught me a couple of valuable lessons. primary, booze is bad business! secondary, you can trust no one! NO ONE! tertiary, i certainly feel a hell of a lot tougher now. and it took a near ass whooping to make me feel this way. however, i believe it should work the other way around. right?
i guess its working. i already feel, how shall i say, more liberated. those that consider me what they consider me will always have their reasons. we all have our reasons for each and every thing we do. those that dont, well, at least those that pretend not to, earn no more respect than the drunken fag who made a complete mockery of what it means to be united. i guess the solidarity split with the sanity, though i believe it should work the other way around. right?
yeah, this has helped. its helped immensely. im settling like the sand on this one and it feels right. it feels good. but, i believe it should definitely work the other way around. right?
dickcarter, sorely satisfied street fighter
Children's Mysogynistic Book Titles:
The Pigs Go Shopping
Pigs in the City
Three Pigs go drinking
When Pigs Fly: The Story of a Female Flight Attendant
Little Pig, Little Pig, lets go buy some makeup
Oh Wow, Look at her now, the famous talking Pig!
The Divine Secrets of the Barnyard Swine or The YaYa Pighood
Bloodsport: The Story of a Stuck Hog
when youre a boy, some days are tough, lying on your bed playing punk rock and stuff...
though im no new york city boy, ill leave that one to lee garr, i am rather savvy in the style of the urbane sophisticate. lead me to water and i shall, proverbially speaking of course, drink. my body is up and ready to read between the sheets. if you feel the deal is real, youre a new york city boy...so young, so run into new york city.
sorta sums it up...on one level at least.
dickcarter, meet me in the middle
postum scrotum: to benefit dunazade, im still right here, giving blood, keeping faith
Come on In
and
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