'poshlost'

Poshlost is an untranslatable Russian word (пошлость) defined as a
kind of "petty evil or self-satisfied vulgarity" (Alexandrov 1991). At more length (and with a more scholarly romanization) Boym
(1994) writes:

Poshlost' is the Russian version of banality, with a characteristic
national flavoring of metaphysics and high morality, and a peculiar
conjunction of the sexual and the spiritual. This one word encompasses
triviality, vulgarity, sexual promiscuity, and a lack of spirituality.
The war against poshlost' is a cultural obsession of the Russian and
Soviet intelligentsia from the 1860s to 1960s.

otto

pulp free, irony enriched

i am nauseous.


my spittle tastes like ashtray cuz i broke down and had a syrian
cigarette last night. up at 2 am, reading bukowski and drunk. i had
to get into the spirit, as mines been crushed as of late. i worry too
much. i feel like a kid. i made a sandwich with new ingredients. i
smoked some more and felt a comfort in coating my insides.

maybe they last longer than my mind now.

i wish there were dog races. note to self* move someplace you can go to
the track year round. look at women. try and pick a winner on a 60
to 1 split, and get robbed. i've never been to the track, but i know
dykes and divorcee's who have. one hates me, and the other only loves
me. in that order. in that style. ala mode' for the sub-sets.

later, i'll have to leave the house. and i will almost certainly
spend money. you cant get by on trade anymore.

copyright of gene roddenberry no.2

best comment wins a drunken running high five, primetime stylz...

no such thing

the end should be a good one.

well thought out.


climax and fall

collect and combine all pertinent details

and prepare for collapse.


there's no such thing as:


good byes

well wishes

relapses

or sweetness in schemes.




last cigarettes on tan vistas.

honesty in her eyes.

sweat filled exhortations and


broken contracts scrawled on little ears, unravelling like rockets

imported with ease.

just kidding around

T.G.I.sacrifice

ishmael [2:56 PM]:
it's been a long week and i am super grumpy

co-worker[2:57 PM]:
it really has been...u have a long weekend??

ishmael [2:57 PM]:
yeah. thank jesus...for once.

ishmael[2:57 PM]:
if his pale unemployed ass hadn't been nailed up, i'd be werkin til at least saturday. and no one needs that

ishmael[2:58 PM]:
thanks for taking one for the team, big fellah

co-worker [2:58 PM]:
i feel bad for laughing at that

ishmael [2:59 PM]:
don't feel bad. he really cant hear you. people's ear drums don't work after they die cuz their brain isn't working and cant process the mild electrical signals that sound waves result in after they hit our ears

ishmael [2:59 PM]:
so yer cool