Category: METASTOPIAN

THIS IS HORGEN FRIED STEAK, as if you could travel through mother Earth’s meat tube and find the wagyu exit out there, some place. These are factually specific related reports of stuff and EVENTS that can only be verified using super atomic laser micrometers and busty strippers named “Jade” and “Chastity” … they’re next  up on stage BITCH.

WHETHER THESE WRITINGS ARE RELATED TO ANYTHING OR BOBLIMPTOCK.COM IS UP TO THE MOTHER FUCKERS BUILDING FUTURE ROBOT SEX BANDITS.

METASTOPIAN: when your mind melts like refried metal shavings taco surprise and it’s FRIDAY NIGHT PIZZA ROLL PARADISE, and you live alone … and even your cat doesn’t like you.

METASTOPIA: this overturning churning charnel house of bitter pill wipe-outs and upside-down surfer hotels where nothing figures for the figuring, and you are abandoned by GOD.

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Why?

I saved you for bacon paradise falls, carousing with kindle spirits, and your curtain rod love affair with BILL doomed us. Why did I save you?

I served your gungous-MOM in the caverns of Elbis, while robot turgin-nords observed my broken body and bloody stool. You couldn’t stop my pubic fury, why would you try. I had sky juice on the loose looking towards a broken ceiling of zazzy hazy madness. Why did I serve you when my anus was prolapsed?

I remember standing in the burning sun with my 6 armies, prepared to storm the outskirts of S’compton, in search of boovula magic sauce and the 8 oils of complete womanly exultation. I gathered rubies and emeralds and monkey gold and gave these gifts to my wives, and i GAVE THEM TO YOU MAN … and you took the loot and went for your skoot out to the edge of the solar discus. Why did I stand there when your own genital crabs had aids?

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REPEAT in front of the MIRROR in your BATHROOM with the LIGHTS OUT at MIDNIGHT on SHROOMS!

YOU’RE THE FIRE CHARGER!

YOUR WOMAN IS TOAD JELLY!

YOU HAVE POND SWALLOW PUDDLE FLOWER MAGIC IN YOUR HEART!

WHY DON’T YOU CALL ME?

FUCK YOU!

I HAVE BUTT REAL KEPLER FILTH IN MY RIM-RAM!

YOU HAVE TOO MUCH TIME YONGOUS!

SEPARATE YOURSELF FROM THE FILTH!

FIND PURITY IN SOUP!

IF THE WORLD DOESN’T FALL APART THIS YEAR THEN MAYBE WE CAN FINALLY COME TOGETHER …

YOUR SPIRIT DRAGON IS FUCKING YOUR GIRLFRIEND’S MOM’S BEST FRIEND LESLEY.

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The Experiment

Port Angeles, Washington, is chuck full of secrets, dark alleys, sinkholes and hidden shame. It’s a place where the buried “treasure” is the truth, perhaps the truth about an indigenous settlement that’s below the foundation of a Mill or concealed by the neglect of new caretakers. Whatever the source, the story remains the same: we deal in night honesty and dark conversation here, go away if you want Saturday morning avocado toast chit-chat.

This will be a series of stories hidden from the light, and hopefully when you see them you can incorporate their fears and torments and love. Maybe we get stuck in the sunken town, underground Port Angeles and maybe we get the blackest mold infection from the tour and maybe we don’t care because we live here.