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Paul Hanson Clark | Electric Cereal

Author: Paul Hanson Clark

paul hanson clark tweets here and tumblrs here.

spawn ashberry

while i was hanging out w angie she told me i could tweet her idea for a tweet, which was, “the best bigge smalls lyric is ‘linens and things'”
i enjoy, while going somewhere w/ someone, stopping for a bit at their house/apt, & just kinda chillin, while they do random stuff
i’m feeling very “on the verge of influential”–drake right now
when allen ginsberg met ezra pound, pound said almost nothing, only opening his mouth to occasionally say “no” in response to ginsberg’s endless stream of questions
eva texted me abt how there are bombs armed with vomit and feces in a building in new orleans, this was after she texted me “the other night i realized how much i’m in love with you and probably always will be”
i heard “wish you were here” by pink floyd in jersey mike’s recently
i was taking pictures of myself and felt always unattractive, then made a yo mama/ralph nader joke on twitter
i applied for a job at a music store but didn’t get an interview because i wasn’t cool enough
i am not an immortal god

mixed nuts

i wish there was some way for me to change right now
there’s a girl in the newest american pie movie who is at one point topless
i feel like there’s a fog that makes it impossible for me to understand
i felt scared abt having kids, what kind of world would i be bringing them into?
at the end of the movie abt clones who are only alive to be harvested by rich ppl who want to be immortal, they show an important person their art & think it might save them
but the person who is important is just an old woman & nothing will save them
it’s quite sad & happy when the guys bring them a bunch of garbage for xmas
now this crazy song is playing, an insane remix of barbie girl by aqua
you used to have to make an effort to distinguish yourself from the avalanche of promoted, commercial, consensus, pop music
you don’t have to make an effort anymore, you just pick and choose, it’s a buffet


i am aperaham lincoln, i am unable to speak
i meditate and thoughts crop up like weeds
email dad, email rachael, email amanda
i cried today while meditating, thinking, i am a bad son
not that i think i’m a bad son, just i could be better
thinking about flying kites w/ my dad & how it bored me
thinking about kites in skies i can’t remember
not that i think i’m a bad son, i don’t think i am, but i could be better
just that i cried while thinking abt emailng my dad, saying, i wish i was a better son
i am aperaham lincoln, i am unable to speak
my voice box rotted in the ground a long time ago
it’s strange that annette messaged me out of the blue
she said i am compassionate & good
the truth is i’ve never felt more alone
just kick the shit out of me what kind of world is this?
philip seymour hoffman died, put a needle in his arm
it’s not about me. i broke my rule which is: don’t want people to do something.
i had this moment, a sad realization: i shouldn’t give myself to people because it’s pain.
i’m not being direct how i like. i don’t want to bore you. i want to smile more.
act 3 or is it act 5? is honesty
i want someone to call me & spill my fucking guts out
my corpse is getting fat because i haven’t been spilling my guts
pardon me? pardon me? i’ve seen so many commercials.
i hear the same noise over and over. i’ve failed.
i used to be a bad friend & it’s ruined me.
i wish my name was ZERO. i wish my name was abraham.