Category Archives: torment

To The Elderly…

    You who are… for example, “65 and older…” on up to 150 or HOWEVER old you want to be- you WERE in fact once a youth…

    You do not deserve to be treated like you are a kid by know-it-all middle ager family. I used to do in-home care. You are NOT a fool. Not ever. Even if you forget everything.

If you are 65+ and like that, please hit “like”. I need it today. I am very ill.

-Andy

What Bothers Me Most About This Picture Is…

   Is that horses.. do not LOOK at the painter. They don’t give a CRAP about portraits. I mean, they will crap, but probably not in mid-air as the colon probably cinches up with a jump.

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      Do YOU cinch up with a jump? Don’t tell me. Don’t tell your priest. No, wait.. DO! They need a laugh.

    Don’t mess with people at funeral homes, pleeease?? Do you know, they have to pretend there are not bodies in the joint. Or maybe that’s me.

      I went to a mauseleum. True story- I know my credit here is NO GOOD, but its true. I visited gramma’s grave and I said, “See YOU SOON!”- meaning like FIFTY YEARS. Soon enough. I got shit to do.

       So I told a funeral director THERE a joke about… Uh… dead animals. He laughed and was reluctant to enjoy the joke. I saw Harold and Maude and I finally got it. I guess.

      Do you want to know the joke? Too bad!!

      Huh.

      Well?

      What do you need?

      Okay.

      Bark dust.

      Oops.

      What do you call a cremated dog?

      Oh, shit. I failed.

Oh-Kay

How are you?
1) O.k.
2) OKay
3) O.W.

If you answered 1, “o.k.”-
      you are a contemporary.
   Same with 2.
One theory says it comes from “all correct”…

Simplifying to phonetic with a spin it becomes oll korrect…
Then “okay”, “o.k.”

#3 is the predessesor.
OW is
“Oll wright”.
    As in “ALL (is) RIGHT
Kind of dumb?
THAT is the point.

I suppose saying “o.k.” is less annoying than “IDK”- I dunno.
Why do you not know?

I analyze my feelings to the marrow. I like to say I am okay (o.k.) if people ask because (A) I am alive.

There is no B. Or C. Or more, because I have a painful condition. It gives me sick ideas that I think are minimally offensive and maximally entertaining… to a low level of pro writer.

My ideas to me are hell.
If someone asks me, “What is on your mind?” And I say, “Oh I am so glad I am 40 and not 15 (I flashback less now).”
I endured a hernia for a year and at first the pain shot into my back.

       It was more fantasticly awesome than a near death experience because of how very truly Auschweitz the pain was for the next 18 months. I have a level of autism spectrum disorder along with hereditary angioedema. I could not define or express my pain.

         I freaked my mom out. Adults should have known better than to teach ANY kid that God sends unbelieving persons to hell. There should be a license for that. There isn’t.

    There was a big emphasis that you feel good when you know God loves you.

So I:

Had a religion over my head.
Had a very finite way to deal with pain.
Had maximum pain. And I still do. HAE is an “8 everyday” pain.

Honestly, I redid my mind.
I figure with this eating me, Aesop’s lion with a thorn is me. My rescuer? Not a mouse.

Actually, I ransacked the old religion and put the man with a wood throne from 33 A.D. next to me. Crucified, we talk back to back for LIFE. I deserve what? That old argument of sin and scumbags is dead. I have needs and my sin is being pathetic.

       You would never know what I feel if you met me. I am one of God’s best kept secrets.

     As for you, are you o.k.?

     If you donate a $1,000,000 love gift to my mini-series, ministries, menses- you would be a knuckle-head.
I don’t have that.

     In Arabia they call my stare way to heaven “Isa Il-masaih”. I stare away like a goober St. Bernard… he drags me along the sea shore.

     ONE set of foot prints the whole way. And kicks and tons of dog shit.

     Are you suprised to hear a holy man say shit? I am not holy. Shit, man… HE is.

    The military has an allowance of cussing. In the Lord’s army, I avoid fuck the f-bomb. I mean I avoid the f-bomb. Why? One reason. I don’t know what the hell it means. I am not speaking in tongues here. Every language of man is junk weight.

     You ever frame a word that you have said?

    I frame in my head.
I do not know how that works.

  A scripture says

May God be true and every man a liar. I am bracing myself. Stellar order and mercy will come to me yet again.

You Two For Free

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And you givvvve

And you givvvve

And you GIVE
        YOUR ALBUM
     AWAYYYYY

LOL

“Ayy.. we uz add thih pub
An the Edge he say, ‘Adam
maybe if’n ya poz nekkid anodder tyme’ an
Adam (hesoftspokenasitis you know) he lydes up a cigarret and says

No

And Im like laffin me-ass off de whole time and we said ‘aw stuff it’ just lets put the album out fa freeee

And the IRA actually sen us a get well card nah im just fula shait…

“Aqua Plankton”

Actually… I “plank” on AGUA.
I only plank on water.
“Planking”, you know??

Ug…
Here:

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Laying dead.

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Laying dumb.

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But don’t touch!
Yes.
No!- not at an ANGLE.
Not on your FACE, Dead Clarke Kent
Not-super man.

I am KIDDING.
But I DO plank.
Seriously.
On my back.

In the dark.

For hours.

In water…

And I get taken away like Calgon promised so many years ago and NEVER DID deliver.

Instant Theta. Float On. Hawthorne and 40-some, SE, Portland, OR. Owned by Chris and Friends. He had an Altered States uprighter. I never saw her. I heard. Right on. There is your blogspot,
guys! I give you ★★★★★!

Float On: Altered Oregon States

The water is double the saline of the Dead Sea and in a tank. Ever see “Altered States” with William Hurt?

Picture (s) Of Float On Goes Here:
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I take it to a Theta level and downshift with this auditory PNS depressant that has no name, but a vent. I’ll call it “Snow Vader”. All the bluebirds and robotic feel… no darkside except for the pitch dark and my cerebral electroprocesses will literally have me dreaming while awake… perhaps in only minutes this run.

   This is experiment #5. Data I journal is ambiguous that I experience. Its personal. Fringe art of experience. It works on existential brain centers of reality. Some say, “realization” and make a big hype like its a drug. It affects your body stasis harmony, awareness. It cannot tell you who you are.

   I’d guess the owners would say it helps you realise what is going on deep within and certainly could be a spiritual tool. But so coul a spoon! Stare at it. Someone important is in it!

Float is…

A float tank is an “unspoon”… you spoon with no one. You do not bend the spoon. You ARE the spoon.

Fork A Rook

Omar and Ren were playing chess and had this discussion:

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Dunacycle

The pieces were all set and Ren said, “I invented a religion today that works.”

Omar: Lets hear it

Ren:   Okay. Lets assume we are dead already and this is the afterlife. God is still relevent

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Omar: But no meeting God…

Ren: How would you know if you had not?

Omar: There is still pain

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Ren: But destruction is beautiful. Look at your recyclable paper coffee cup

Omar: tastes a little like paper? What are you going to do with your idea?

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Ren: I intend to present this idea and use the bishop to fork the idea over.

Omar: imaginary afterlife, thats placebo?

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Ren: You know how it is… as long as you mean well, “what does truth matter?”

Omar: What is truth?

Ren: Exactly

______________

Author aside…

I am Andrew Harrison and actually exist.
Yay

I wanted to show how I think.
Philosophically.
With an angle toward psychologiclal, existential, metaphysical, practical, everyday, good humored, fun loving
craft of expression. Its similiar to how I talk everday. Mindful of feeling accurately and gingerly the world around me as I am on, I suppose, what you would call a walk in life.

    Crawling as a baby, walking talking growing…

    Now I am a man. Not overnight.
Your see that I am into perspective.

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I do like to “look up”

Andrew
Harrison

(Fresh unfrozen ego)