april 12, 2012


if silence be good for the wise man, how much greater then for the fool?

shut it,
paulus ferrum




the only dreams i ever have are bad.  i haven’t had a normal dream in so long i can’t even remember.  somebody is always out to kill me in my dreams.  that or just completely sabotage me.

last night i had a dream that i was living in an upstairs apartment somewhere.  somehow one of the rooms in the apartment had caught fire.  when the fire department came, they began hosing down the room that was on fire.  when the fire was put out, i thought it was over, but i heard the firemen talking about hosing down my room.  at the time, my room was full of papers and writing, and it was very cluttered.  however, i knew somehow that all the pages and folders were important to me, and i asked the firemen why they needed to hose down a room that was so far from where the fire was.  furthermore, i asked why they needed to hose anything else down, seeing as the fire had already been put out.  they seemed to be ignoring me, but at the same time i could sense that they weren’t so much interested in making sure the fire was completely out, they seemed more interested in messing up what i was doing. without warning, they stormed in my room and delivered a blast from the hose on all my paperwork and my folders.  i screamed with rage.  i tried to make them stop, and they would not.  once they had made a sufficient mess of what i was doing, they left.  the dream ended with me trying to gather my papers and my folders to see what could still be salvaged.

i don’t know what this means.  i never have the slightest clue what my dreams mean.  all i know is that they are never good.  somebody is always trying to attack me or fuck with me.

of course, i feel like that in real life, so maybe i have answered my own question here.

bella serra,
paulus ironicus


may fourteenth

alright, you idiot… here’s the rundown:

i’ve been under the weather for nearly eight days.  my semester ended under great duress, and the next day i came down with an ear, nose, and throat infection along with a tension headache.  i am just now getting back to normal.

i made a 4.0.  what do you think about that?  it is my first, and i am too exhausted to comprehend and properly celebrate, but celebrating with certainly be done in due time.

i had a death in the family.  my stepdad’s mother died, and now my parents are trying to clean out her house and give me all of her crap.  i never gave the slightest indicator that i needed anything at all.  i don’t want her gaudy nonsense, but if I don’t take it i will squash this awkward attempt at diplomacy by my parents.

i’ve been bitching at as many people as i can.  the semester was very fucking hard.  so much background noise.  i was going out of my skull.  i have decided from this day forward to tell people exactly how i feel.

as if that is any fucking change…

my dreams have changed.  last night i had a series of what seemed to be marijuana-based vignettes, and tonight i had a dream that i had sex with a jogger… while jogging.  it’s good to know that my mind still knows how to take a break.

i suppose that i all.  the ailment left me sprawled out for a good bunch of days and i am just now regaining my bearing.  i am going back to watching wrestling documentaries now.  that’s my new thing.  at least until i run out of them.

eat butt… iron smooching paul, outer smooching space



to whom it may concern,

i regret to inform you that my wife samantha is responsible for the dent in your car.  we are on our second honeymoon, and we had to hurry back to our suite because the erection pills that i procured from a local truck stop have produced some rather astounding results.  i am leaving my phone number enclosed, but i would urge you not to contact us for a few days.

paul steele


june 14…


walmart is just like mos eisley spaceport:  you’ll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.

we must be cautious.

iron paul, 3rd degree jedi knight




i don’t like how my roommate shouts “good night” to me from the other side of the apartment.  are we at fucking summer camp or something?

tonight he also went out of his way to tell me about a spider web on the back porch.  what a helpful guy.

i have another year of this shit.  something had better change.

not getting my hopes up,


july 5, 2012


strange day.

as I was walking home from the gym this evening, I noticed that two campus police cars had vehicles pulled over almost back-to-back. overseeing the ordeal was a third vehicle, one with government plates (though obviously an undercover vehicle). it seemed a strange sight, but I paid them all no mind and briskly walked past the scene, thinking nothing of it. as I continued walking, I happened upon two strange-looking balls of trash on the side of the road. however, I kept walking.

about thirty seconds later, a bell went off in my head. I casually strolled back to the area, turned back in my original direction, crouched to “tie my shoe,” and stuffed one of the conspicuous balls of trash in my sock (I was wearing sweatpants because I had just come from the gym).

I continued back in my original direction.

bullshit,” I said to myself. “there’s just no way.”

I rounded the corner to see all three police vehicles parked near an athletic field. I immediately began to sweat.

damn it all. just my luck it IS fucking weed. they know what I have done, and now I am screwed. fucking sabotage” I thought.

I know… a bit paranoid… but there was a lot at stake if I was correct.

but I passed the vehicles without incident.

when I got home, I broke open the bag. i’ll be a monkey’s grandmother if I didn’t behold at least half an ounce of lime-colored, pine-smelling buds… over two hundred dollars worth of good cannabis.

I calmly put my find in a tupperware and took a shower.

I used to buy bags of grass this big, but I am looking at what is easily a month’s worth of high-grade weed given my pathetic tolerance these days. I don’t know why this happened to me, and furthermore I don’t believe that whoever threw the stuff out has any idea how happy they have made me, but I would like to thank the campus police for finally doing something right.

but there is something that will bug me for a long time: was the scene with the cops and the discarded bags of weed connected (because I am assuming the bag that I left had about the same amount), or was this an even crazier coincidence?

iron paul

p.s. you should probably come over soon.




this morning i observed a hummingbird for a few minutes.  it was adorable.  in mid-flight it pooped, and that was also adorable.



august 12, 2012


listening to the fat boys and watching dario argento films.  i don’t know what has prompted these sudden interests, but as is my way i have completely dived in… doven?  doven in?  whatever.

italian horror and old school rap.  why not?  my life is full of extremes already.  a few self-induced ones here and there keep things spicy.

shitboy is out of town, so this is my chance to give the house a top-down cleansing and make the final preparations for school.  everything is getting sorted and filed, even my damn itunes library.  i wanted to wait until about a week before school to transition into that mode, but now is as good of a time as any.

so… with buff love laying down the beats, i must humbly excuse myself.  it is time to get back to work.