[ im feelin this: alright ]
[soundtrack to life: haunted by chuck palahniuk ]
so here i am in another place, im home. i got into a huge fight with my mother and i guess its over but im still put off by it. she wanted to criticize everything i did. oh well i dont want to talk about it anymore.
so i got haunted. not by someone, but the book, by chuck palahniuk. it came out on the third but i didnt know that, i thought i still had a few days but i went to all the libraries lookign for it and i finally found it in audio, but as ive been listening to it, i like it better reading it. but i cant be picky, i finally got it. maybe i can find more of the stories online and read them. i wouldnt mind reading them with the audio, but i really like reading them. i also got diary which i never read. i never finished my goal, which was to read every book he wrote, but i never finished stranger than fiction and i never read diary so i got diary and the audio of haunted, which i have read two stories. also i wanted to have him reading it, because i like his voice, but it is narrated by other people. anyways, im going to put a section of guts in here, not all so not to steal but i will put the link to the place i got it, if you wanna read it.
anyways thats all for now. heres guts. and an audio of chuck reading it.
guts words
guts audio
What I can tell you is your guts don't feel much pain. Not the way your skin feels pain. The stuff you're digesting, doctors call it fecal matter. Higher up is chyme, pockets of a thin, runny mess studded with corn and peanuts and round green peas.That's all this soup of blood and corn, shit and sperm and peanuts floating around me. Even with my guts unravel¬ing out my ass, me holding on to what's left, even then my first want is to some¬how get my swimsuit back on.God forbid my folks see my dick.My one hand holding a fist around my ass, my other hand snags my yellow¬striped swim trunks and pulls them from around my neck. Still, getting into them is impossible.You want to feel your intestines, go buy a pack of those lambskin condoms. Take one out and unroll it. Pack it with peanut butter. Smear it with petroleum jelly and hold it under water. Then try to tear it. Try to pull it in half. It's too tough and rubbery. It's so slimy you can't hold on.A lambskin condom, that's just plain old intestine.You can see what I'm up against.You let go for a second and you're gutted.You swim for the surface, for a breath, and you're gutted.You don't swim and you drown.It's a choice between being dead right now or a minute from right now.What my folks will find after work is a big naked fetus, curled in on itself. Floating in the cloudy water of their backyard pool. Tethered to the bottom by a thick rope of veins and twisted guts. The opposite of a kid hanging himself to death while he jacks off. This is the baby they brought home from the hospital 13 years ago. Here's the kid they hoped would snag a football schol¬arship and get an MBA. Who'd care for them in their old age. Here's all their hopes and dreams. Floating here, naked and dead. All around him, big milky pearls of wasted sperm.Either that or my folks will find me wrapped in a bloody towel, collapsed halfway from the pool to the kitchen tele¬phone, the ragged, torn scrap of my guts still hanging out the leg of my yellow¬striped swim trunks.What even the French won't talk about.That big brother in the Navy, he taught us one other good phrase. A Russian phrase. The way we say, "I need that like I need a hole in my head...," Russian people say, "I need that like I need teeth in my asshole......Mne eto nado kak zuby v zadnitse. Those stories about how animals caught in a trap will chew off their leg, well, any coyote would tell you a couple bites beats the hell out of being dead.Hell ... even if you're Russian, someday you just might want those teeth. Otherwise, what you have to do is¬you have to twist around. You hook one elbow behind your knee and pull that leg up into your face. You bite and snap at your own ass. You run out of air and you will chew through anything to get that next breath.It's not something you want to tell a girl on the first date. Not if you expect a kiss good night. If I told you how it tasted, you would never, ever again eat calamari.It's hard to say what my parents were more disgusted by: how I'd got in trou¬ble or how I'd saved myself. After the hospital, my mom said, "You didn't know what you were doing, honey. You were in shock." And she learned how to cook poached eggs.All those people grossed out or feeling sorry for me....I need that like I need teeth in my asshole.
in love with love and lousy poetry
Kindel blogged at 5:11 PM
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