Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Jake Brahm's LiveJournal:

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Friday, September 8th, 2006
4:14 am	spellcheck, nocheck, ___ ___ I've been waiting for one important thing to happen for a long time. It's something that I've thought about a lot, and this morning it finally happened. My bed is next to my windows is next to my walls. My mom opened up my blinds a few years ago and I haven't bothered to close them yet, so sunlight shines through when it pleases. As the sun moves through the seasons the shine hits different parts of my room. As autum approaches it'll start shining on my bed for longer and longer. With blankets on I'm already pretty toasty. Then when the sun starts to roast me I get all sweaty and start to get crazy in the noodle. God finally talked to me. I was in the Milwaukee Public Museum (I seem to be there a lot recently) and this man approaches me. He makes it clear that he's the embodiment of G-d. He tells me one thing and one thing only...he says, "BRICK ____ ____." Like a moment of fucking drunken clarity everything makes sense. I get it completely, and I know how to save the world, how to get things back on the right track. Also, those special TV exhibits they have aren't really TV exhibits. When you're alone with them embodiments of G-d pop through them and start talking to you about how to save the world. Then if G-d feels someone around the corner he hops back into the tape about neothermalgelogicalpermafrost, or whatever. I wish I could remember the words that came after "BRICK", because then I'd be able to get to it. Current Mood: vagina (15 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, September 2nd, 2006
2:33 am	SERPO: an alien adventure in twelve parts++(PART 7_) 8====[)--pew pew A lot of times I get the feeling like my life is some sort of conceptual film that a stupid high school alien is making for his Junior media class. It's one long take, where a camera is five feet behind my back, just following me around. There'll be twenty-something years of character development before a sudden, terrible, tragic, unexpected ending. After I die, though, I get to go to the alien planet, and meet the director. The film she made was a semi-blockbuster on her home planet, and everyone there wants to get to know me. I'll be taken around to all of the trendy nightclubs, restaurants, museums, taco stands, fucking whatever, and all of the Martians are loving me. Then I get to make my own film. The first one is such a success that I get to make another one. First one: It is the year 2037. A seventeen year old boy is taking a media class at his high school. He is trying to make a movie about a young twenty-something couple meeting on the upper floors of World Trade Center Number One on September 11th, 2001. In the first thirty minutes of the boy's movie--which is titled "Planes (We Have Sum)"--the male and female leads are introduce individually. They're shown arriving at their building, taking elevators, drinking some coffee, typing on computers. Then a 747 crashes into their building. Amidst the flames, fumes and chaos they meet each other, and it's love at first sight. Together they ascend through twenty floors to the roof of the building. As they kiss for the first time the floor gives out underneath them. The boys script is put down by his teacher as being too ambitious, and far reaching. However, he is determined, and together with a girl he meets while fishing at the local pond, he puts his film into production. After the entire year of filming, with various escapades in between, he finishes his project, and gets a B+ in media. It was hard for the Martians to understand the implications of my movie. Mostly they liked the meta-genre gimmick, and arrived in hoards to theaters to take it all in. They liked the pretty colors, as I shot in 3-strip Technicolor. I think my celebrity really mattered more than the story I was trying to tell. With my next film I did the reverse of what most directors do: I made an easily accessible, mainstream feature. It was short, running only an hour and twenty minutes long, but packed with action. Because the aliens had seen my whole life unfold they understood everything that was going on in this film. The second one: I arrived back on my home planet shortly before I was killed. I was on an epic quest to find ladies that had meant important things to me earlier on in my life, but who had slipped through my fingers for reasons out of my control. First, Marcy Benson. The aliens would remember her as my best friend for a period of time in elementary school. While her parents went through a rough divorce during first grade she would come over to my house every day after school and we would slide around on the kitchen floor. We would lay on beanbags. We would draw stuff, or play hide and go seek. The audience already had an attachment to her. She moved away from Wauwatosa before we moved on to the third grade. Back in 2009, in the film, I found Marcy after a few weeks of vigorous searching. Then, I kidnapped her. Next I focused on Mykia Hilliard. Another early elementary school friend, the audience remembered her in passing, as I may never have completely portrayed my feelings to her to those watching me from behind. She was cute, and silly, and always made me smile. :) I kidnapped her and brought her back to my house as well. Now, with Marcy and Mykia both tied to chairs in my basement, removed of their clothes, cold, I brought out my Mini-DV camera. Forced lesbian sex scene for forty minutes. With the first installment of what would become known as "The Love Trilogy", I again had a hit on my hands. "Lincoln At Last" would go down as my third highest grossing release ever. After only a few years on the planet I had achieved a staying power that was unrivaled by homegrown celebrities. Every somebody alien wanted to work with me, to snatch up a little of the magic I had produced. I became overwhelmed. I went into seclusion in the vast northern hemisphere of the planet for three years until I unleashed my next tour-de-force: "canola oil". Current Mood: touched (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Wednesday, June 14th, 2006
4:44 am	for my twin sister, again, and always I made it with her. We went all the way. Well...we didn't exactly do it...but you know, we had verbal intercourse and it was fantastic. All though, she said the majority of what I was saying didn't have much susbstance, I didn't have much meat. At least I was able to talk for a real long time. Whenever I get pulled over by a female officer they always try to flirt with me. That bores me. Now whenever I get pulled over I just say, "Sir, I can see your adams apple." They look dejected, write me a few hundred dollars worth of tickets, and then leave. A friend told me about how they let loose a couple hundred thousand bouncy balls in San Francisco. I wonder if they would ever weaponize bouncy balls. Aliens are always portrayed to be smarter than mankind. What if it's that they are actually very stupid, only they got lucky and figured out interstellar travel? For example, I can picture a spaceship landing, and while we're expecting them to give us the meaning behind existance and fantastic technologies, they are expecting us to tell them how to extinguish the fires that burn down their homes on their planet of orgin. Maybe they don't have water where you come from, but you should just call the Fire Department, idiot. If someone asks you to bum them a smoke tell them to suck your dick. If they refuse, call them a faggot. If they call you a faggot, call them a faggot. The thing about socceer that annoys me is when a minor collision causes serious faux-pain. While you wriggle around on the feild all of the spectators, teammates, and staff know that you're faking it, yet you still get carried away on a strecher. A friend proposed that instead of being taken away on a strecher a metalic hook is attached to your neck, then a bungy attached to the hook is used to drag you to your bench. This would cut back on the girliness of professional socceer. When did it happen that I started to hate art? It was probably right around the time I realized that art is retarded. Current Mood: geeky (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, May 2nd, 2006
11:58 pm	the plan 4 i's That story I told about my twin sister was a lie. The part where she was shot in the head, I made it up; she didn’t die. My penis doesn’t have the ability to shoot acidic cum, so when I said that I melted her murderer Wicked Witch style with my spunk…it just didn’t happen that way. The truth is my sister is still alive to this day. I like to make up stories of her death when I want to impress people. If they think that you killed a person who killed a loved one they give you instant respect and admiration. Maybe my sister really will be in a life or death situation where I save her, or some day she is kidnapped, raped, and thrown into a ravine, then I do avenge her death. I’m lying, I’m just cashing in on truths that have yet to be. My twin sister and I like to have fun with what people think is real. We’re mostly bored, but we like theater, putting on shows. Every Thursday night we work on our act. It’s a way that we justify doing all of the terrible things that happen on the off nights. First we find a restaurant, or coffee shop in a part of town where no one is likely to know us. For example, we’ve hit Mexican neighborhoods in South Milwaukee, or where the rich kids play in Brookfield. Always arrive separately, seat ourselves at tables across from each other, hid behind menus. My job is to make sure that enough people are seated around us, then I give my sister the go ahead to start crying. She always draws a lot of attention, a pretty girl sitting at a table alone, crying into her milkshake. Most people never say anything to her, they just watch her look foolish as she gets louder and louder. It’s at this point, when all eyes are on her, or all eyes are trying to avoid her, I approach her... (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Thursday, April 13th, 2006
5:56 pm	we're doughty, when we talk shrinkingly or straightforwards My twin sister was killed while we were in middle school. A boy asked her out, she rejected him, the next day the boy brought a gun to school and shot her in the head during social studies. I was in the classroom next door when I heard the gunfire. My first reaction was to hit the deck, to duck and cover like an atomic bomb had just gone off, to hastily protect myself. Down on the linoleum flooring, among the discarded chewing gum, looking up at the boogers I had placed under the table where I sat, I realized that my sister was next door from where I thought the shot had originated. Mrs. Brown was screaming at me to get back in the room, but before I knew it I was in the hallway, and standing right in front of the fleeing gunman. He stopped in his tracker, raised his gun, turned sideways like a true gangsta, smirked like a mother fucker. Out of instinct I unzipped my pants and pulled my penis through the fly. Furiously I started to beat off, my penis growing larger, harder. The kid’s eyes were fixated on my swelling genitals so he didn’t notice that I was slowing inching closer to him. When I felt like I was going to pop I began closing in even faster. Eventually I was right on him. At this time I shot my acidic cum onto his T-shirt, some seeming down onto his trousers, and he started to melt. He screamed, "I’M MEEEELTTTTIIINGGG!! I’MMMM MEEEEEELLLTTTINGGGGG!!" After long there was nothing but a pile of smoldering clothes and hair, also the gun. I holstered my junk back into my pants, then rushed inside my sister’s classroom where she lay motionless in a pool of blood. I knelt down to her side and eased her up, cradling her in my arms. Though she had been shot in the head, and she was dead, she said to me, "Jake Brahm, you are one sexy mother fucker. Look underneath my bed. I love yo--" (Comment on this)
Friday, March 17th, 2006
4:37 am	All we are is dust in a jib (I HATE ISRAEL) What I did today, by Jake Brahm Today I woke up all wet. I was having a dream about something scary, and sweat was pouring out of my body. My bed is by a window, and during the afternoon the sun hits my bed and makes me hot. After that I went downstairs and baked cookies. I ate the cookies, and they tasted good even though I used eggs that had expired a month ago. I hope I don’t get sick. I walked around the house chanting “E-C-DUB! E-C-DUB!” hitting my cat with the dirty cookie sheet. I go at cheese grater and pretended to cut up her forehead. I put red food coloring, it was hardcore. While I was doing the dishes (which were particularly difficult since the red food coloring was over everything) I remembered that I didn’t have anything to do all day, so I sat down at my desk and thought of something fun to do. I decided on taking a bus ride. While on the bus I met some funny people. I wore my Longfellow Middle School sweatshirt and an old man said to me, “Hi! I went to Longfellow Middle School!” I noticed him staring at my crotch, crotch, crotch, so I ignored him. I think he wanted to give me a blowjob. Another fun person I met was a teenage girl who looks Mexican-ish. Her eyebrows were Sharpie based. I asked her, “When are you getting off?” to which she replied, “Oh baby, you can get off anything.” I think she wanted to give me a blowjob, and my suspicions were later confirmed when she gave me a blowjob in the back of the bus. She asked me for some money, but I said, “ENJOY YOUR AIDS, SUCKER!” When I got home I didn’t really feel like partying, so I canceled a surprise birthday bash for my friend. People were showing up at my house all night long, but whenever the doorbell rang I just ignored it. Now I’m about to go to bed after I make a few slight modifications to my moustache. Good night. Current Mood: silly (Comment on this)
Saturday, March 4th, 2006
4:35 pm	Ode to Kevin Prockup, circa 1998 There's something about watching Terry Funk vs. Cactus Jack in a no rope barbwire death match that makes me feel good inside. Seeing the two do battle in a Japanese high school gymnasium with one hundred mystified dorks following them around as they hit each other with flaming chairs and broken tables creates a warm, fuzzy aura around me. Mick Foley's face is crimson, nice. Terry Funk's t-shirt is ripped, revealing his aging man-tits, nice. He starts to take punches are random Japanese, cameramen, fans. I'm not sure how many times Foley and Funk battled in the IWA, and I'm not sure how many times they participaed in death matches, but I am sure that watching old wrestling tapes make me feel good. W*ing Kanemura in a carribean barbwire spidernet glass crash death match...that shit's intense. I wish I could find the tape with all of the Hayabusa vs. Sabu stuff. Or that Sabu match where he rips his bicep open, takes five to seal his wound with crazy glue and athletic tape, then goes on to add a number in his L column. I don't know why I mark out so hard for this kind of stuff. I wish the world was more like ECW, where people don't care if you're heel or face, they just want you to do crazy shit and make yourself look foolish. I'd be able to cope well with a world like that, I think. I might even be able to flourish there. Cheese Burger. Moustache. John Locke. It's good to have Wrestlemania 2000 back. Sorry for the bombast. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Wednesday, February 15th, 2006
10:20 pm	i've got a list Here's a list of things I want to do before I die: Cut someone with a knife. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, January 16th, 2006
11:05 am	piss, on my carpets I wanted to talk about why I dropped out of high school. I was going to tell you it was because I started skipping gym glass everyday, going to the library to read about the apocalypse instead. Terrorism, serial killers, guys who scammed television game shows. I felt like 9/11 was the peak of sensationalism, and nothing I could do would ever top that. Who needs a high school diploma if you’ve got one well thought-out plan? I wanted to talk about my dad, and how he is a creator. I was going to relate that to him giving birth to a destroyer, but I didn’t. When he makes things he is perfect, he becomes flowing water. While we work he talks about Farscape, how he stayed up all night watching. I wanted to talk about how I’m identifying more with movies like Punch Drunk Love, and When Harry Met Sally, movies about accidental love. The girls I like are the ones who are sitting at home every night, so how am I going to find them? I wanted to talk about anime. At the heart of every series is a bunch of kids who form an unlikely alliance with each other. I wanted to tell a story about how I drove past an old man riding a bike on the Parkway today. He was having some trouble, either his bike was broke or he was. I thought about rolling down my window, asking him if he needed a hand to the hospital or home, whichever, but that was when he was already in my rearview mirror. I wanted to talk about how I don’t feel like I’m a good person sometimes. But the truth is I don’t feel like talking much right now. (Comment on this)
Sunday, January 1st, 2006
5:10 pm	could've been a cuntender's game Seventeen weeks ago I made a comment that inferred that a losing Packers season would compute nicely with where I was in my life. Now, as my main man Brett Favre stepped off the frozen tundra of Lambeau Field with a 4 and 12 record, I’m still in the same place I was when I talked up the future. Mmm...my New Years Resolution includes cutting my masturbating down to once a week or less, and trying to leave the house at least twice a week. Predicitons for 2006: I end up in Japan again. I commit a felony I get into a fist fight I buy a new pair of pants I reformat my computer three times I put out a Cryptozoology, And Stuff album (?) I don’t get a job I get bored Also, it’s been almost a year since I started writing in this LiveJournal. It’s been fun. (28 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, December 29th, 2005
11:41 pm	john carpenter's chunky bar I’ve been trying to think of the perfect tattoo for most of my life. My mom and my brother have gone out on numerous occasions together to get inked up, and I always kinda wanted to go too. The only problem is I really hate tattoos and people who get tattoos. It’s just the stupidest looking shit in the world. I’m against most body modification, actually. But all that‘s changed now, since I finally came up with a tattoo that’s good enough to get permanently on my body. For a while I thought of getting the decked out player sprites from NHL ‘93 on my hands, one with blood spurting and one without. Then I thought of a similar, symmetrical idea that involved the outlines of plastic lego trees, one would be a fur and the other an evergreen. But none of those come even close to this perfect idea. I’m getting a decorative design on the small of my back, just above my ass. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Friday, December 23rd, 2005
12:26 pm	stand up: 1 Woo! Yeah! All right…uh, so who out there likes to party? Yeah? Yeah, you guys like to party? That’s fucking sad. You should all be ashamed of yourselves. No, it’s cool. Sometimes I’ll go to parties. Hate it, but you know the one good thing about ‘em? Passed out, drunk chicks. If you are a woman and you go to a party, get super fucking drunk, and then pass out, you’re basically giving me a written document that says, “It is A OK to put your nuts in my mouth.” No, trust me, I understand; it isn’t a very nice thing to do, but if you’re asking for it, you’re asking for it. I’m going to feel free to have sex with you in a dark room. Am I going to cum in you? Maybe. Definitely on you at the very least. You know the other thing I hate about parties? These kids who you haven’t seen in a long time who want to shake your hand like they’re a politician running for re-election. It’s like, "Thanks man, I remember you back in high school, but there’s no fucking way I’m voting for you. I value my liberties, you fucking prick." And then they want to know what you’ve been up to since they saw you last. Well, I don’t know about me, but I could probably guess about you. Have you been living at your parents house, not working a steady job, sitting around masturbating to internet porn all day, and occasionally going out to these fucking parties to get hammered, having sex with passed out chicks in the bathroom? I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with internet porn. I should know, since I own a very lucrative pornographic website that specializes in pictures of girls smoking out of phallic shaped pipes, and bongs. Well...I’m not the owner so much as I am a member. Ok, that’s a joke, I’m not even a member. Listen, if you’re going to give me 10 second clips for free why would I ever subscribe to your site? I can download one of those puppies, and by the time I’m halfway through I’ve already worked one out, and I’m beginning to clean up. All right, before I go I’ve got time for a few impressions at audience request. Just shout ‘em out. Yeah, I’m not doing that one, any others? OK, here are the first words Britney Spears‘ firstborn child will say. "If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face forever." Thank you! Good night, ladies and gentlemen! (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, December 15th, 2005
3:53 pm	self surrender hentai party BitTornado used to be my client of choice, but I’ve had to switch over to Azureus because BitTornado doesn’t recognize kanji or hiragana. Almost all of the Japanese porn torrents (or torn porrents, as I like to say) don’t have English titles, and most of them come off of Chinese trackers, so that’s extra fucked. Through Javtalk, a forum that posts nothing but Japanese torn porrents, I discovered Airu Kaede. She has been featured in films like Bukkake Insult Ravished, and Miss Sexual Presidents Undercover Scheme. She has a nose like Chiaki Kuriyama. She has the tinniest of boobies. She looks like someone I’d like to meet. And most importantly she has a blog, which she updates regularly. I’m going to post a reply to every entry she makes, telling her to come hang out in Milwaukee with me. I doubt she’ll come over, though. Why isn’t there Christmas themed porn? Maybe there is, and I just somehow haven’t come across it yet, but imagine the limitless possibilities. I promise that you could get an entertaining two-hour DVD out of it. For example, you could have Santa Clause and Misses Clause going to town on each other. Then have the Virgin Mary fucking herself with a dildo shaped like G-d, or something. How about an elf gangbang in Santa’s workshop? Sometimes when I watch porn I have the audio come through my laptop’s speaks. Whenever I do this Violet always comes up to me and looks super pissed like, "What the fuck are you watching?" I get the impression that she is a reincarnated feminist who thinks all sex is rape. A while ago I promised not to watch live action pornography ever again, because I had fallen in love with hentai. Ok, that lasted for about two weeks or something, back in May or whatever, but just now I have decided to get back into hentai. I’ve got two series coming through on Azureus. They’re called Sex Ward, and Moonlight Lady. They better be good. Finally, sometimes when I watch pornography, but don’t feel like masturbating, I play songs on my guitar and sing about David Koresh. M-m-m-m-meeeeerry Koreshmas! (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, December 10th, 2005
3:18 pm	if you love me you will destroy the world trade center Things I like: Increasing my share ration on FSS Reading auto-translated .srt’s Adding to the soap ball in the shower Pretending my cat is a human girlfriend Having only the Christmas tree lights on in the living room Talking shit to State Representatives when they come to the front door (This means you David Cullen!) Being alone during the night Things I don't like: Making lots, then losing lots, on PartyPoker Getting dressed Making music that isn’t perfect Lashing out verbally at my parents Pretending my cat is a human girlfriend Wearing a new pair of sweatpants for the first time in many winters Being socially irrational Chase’s pee-pee I recently realized that somewhere in the world there is a guy who has a huge Superman tattoo on his chest. Unless he gets naked and jumps out of buildings on a regular basis, this is totally unacceptable. I recently thought of an amazing concept for a situation based television comedy. Osama bin Laden travels to the United States of America during the 1970’s and falls in love with a girl from New York City. She at first rejects his love, but eventually comes around to it after he promises to prove his love in a multitude of surprising, and hilarious ways. Through the seasons, and the decades, each act would get less, and less funny, as bin Laden becomes increasingly frustrated that his love isn’t acknowledging his attempts to please. A supporting cast would include a wise cracking, 7-year-old Mohammed Atta, and operational planner Khalid Sheik Mohammed moonlighting as a chef‘s apprentice. The series finale, well…obvious. I’m supposed to write a review of A Christmas Together by John Denver and The Muppets for Tiny Mix Tapes. It’s something I really want to do, but for some reason I just can’t bring myself around to it. Reminds me of when I tried to write papers in school. I don’t know what my problem is. Either way, you should get a hold of that album and listen to it at least twice before Christmas is through. Also, I didn't mean what I said about David Cullen; he's a very nice man. God bless. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Thursday, December 1st, 2005
5:52 pm	my hand smells..like....a half buried bear I haven’t written in a while because I haven’t had anything to write about. My brain is moist. My brain is a moist vagina. I say really inappropriate things. While I was watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire I overheard my parents arguing about Chase, about weather he should be put down or not. My Mom is for it, my Dad is against it, I walk into the kitchen and say, “You know, Mom’s going to be in jail for a while anyway, so why don’t we just kill Chase sometime around September?” My Mom responded by saying, “You are the least feelingest person in the world.” That makes some sort of sense, because today she wrote me a note and left it on the computer that said, “Jake: Please put on boots and try to rack leaves into the garden Love, Mom” I don’t know. I recorded a song a few days ago. It said, “I masturbate way too much/I’m wasting all of my cum/God damn I hope I don’t run out/I haven’t came/for about two days/I’m saving my cum/for your face/You’ll suck my dick/forever more/You’ll eat my cum/forever more/forever more/forever more/I shouldn’t have said all that stuff/now girls will think that I suck/Oh well it’s not like I leave the house/So eat my cum you fucking whore.” Cryptozoology, And Stuff out by 2006! Or 2007. Either way. I’ll make a real post soon. It’s going to feature notes that girls have written to me in the past. It’s gonna be real good. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Sunday, November 6th, 2005
10:36 pm	75,000 split 10 or less ways I have never thought of myself as a very impulsive person. Sometimes I do things that make no sense, but I can always find a rationale later for doing those things. Recently, though, I’ve been doing things that I can’t justify at all. For example, I was making soup last night and this ladybug wouldn’t stop fucking with my spoon. I threw the ladybug in my mouth and crunched her up before I knew what I was doing. Then today my mom went grocery shopping and I told her to pick me up a Christmas advent calendar. When she got home with it I opened up all of the little doors, and ate all of the little chocolates. Now what am I supposed to do when December comes and I don’t have anything to look forward to each morning? Even this post is rather impulsive. I usually like to think out the stuff that I write before I put it up here. Fuuuuuuck. (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, October 30th, 2005
3:53 pm	merry halloween, something something I have made one and only one critical mistake in my life. When my dads business went under I asked him to steal a pair of construction grade headphones from the shop. I wanted them so I could block out all of the stupid fucking noise I hear outside sometimes, but eventually I also started using them when I played drums. When I wear the headphones the entire high end is cut out, giving the tom drums a nice low rumble, and the snare a fat, pure smack. These headphones also allow me to play louder than I usually play, which was already fucking loud enough. Without the headphones on I can’t play. I've become dependant on them. My drum set sounds annoying as fuck without them, and my ears are in pain if I play when they’re off. Recording has become a hassle, because it’s hard to duplicate on tape how they sound when partially blocked off by the earmuff. While writing that I just picked a huge bogger, and then wiped it under my desk. Anyway, that was all just fluff to get to what I really wanted to talk about. Two things actually. Actually, that don’t matter. None of this matters. I’ll make it quick. 1. Recording Cryptozoology, And Stuff album. Trying hard. Songs good. If finished I will give a copy to everyone I’ve ever known. Literally. 2. Want to write story in LiveJournal. Fantasy based. One of the two long existing stories in my headx0rz. The one not involving a teenager operated teenage pornography ring. Written in style of Interstellar_Scrotum. November 1st, or December 1st start date. Depends. (Comment on this)
Sunday, October 23rd, 2005
10:51 am	"WOOL SOX" by Hermione Granger For the past few days I’ve been trying to write a good knock knock joke. Each one that I’ve written, however, has been way too high concept, and not very practical. Ironically the real joke is that I think that sums up my life pretty well; I’m basically all ideas and no punch line, only evoking a confused chuckle after a moment of silence. Even still, I think I can work with that, so here’s my best knock knock joke that I could come up with. It goes... Knock, knock. Who’s there? This morning I woke up feeling super comfortable in my flannel sheets. Just the right amount of sunlight was shining through my blinds, and the scent of pine trees vaguely penetrated my nostril holes. The sound of...well, there wasn’t any sound, and that’s because I am now deaf. Knock, knock. Who’s there? God has never played a big role in my life, and I only have anything to do with him when I need something good to happen to me. Sometimes I say shit in my head like, "God, if you get these weird bumps off my dick I swear I will go to church every Sunday!", or, "God, if you help me find that bottle of maple syrup I’ll pray nightly!" He knows I’m too lazy for that, though. Knock, knock. I think that’s half of the reason why God decided to take away my hearing. Who’s there? The other reason is because I turned twenty today, and I have always said that I would make an album that I could be proud of before I turned twenty. I have so many good fucking ideas, and God has to know this since he probably sends me most of them from his mind to mine. He is so disappointed in me. He takes away my aural abilities because he is so sick about it. Flannel sheets, couches, masturbation, arm chairs, ovens, sleep, he gives me the ideas, and yet I do nothing with them. Knock, knock! Who’s there!? The first song opens up with a personalized greeting. The next has the sweet oontz oontz beat at the end that brings it all together. There’s a skit about famous American actors and my inability to give a fuck about girls! He gives me brilliant thoughts! And yet I do nothing. I am twenty years old, and yet I’ve done nothing. He is right to take away my sound, because I do nothing with it. Still, it takes a few seconds for me to realize that I’m not deaf. My cat is sleeping on my head, preventing me from hearing anything that could be happening in my bedroom. After brushing her off my head she licks me, and probably says something like...fucking... Happy birthday, Jake Brahm. You are twenty. Knock, knock. Who’s there. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, October 10th, 2005
4:07 pm	torn porrents and backne kill me I am not dead. Why I am still alive, exactly, I am not sure, but I know I am not dead. My computer, on the other hand, died last Tuesday evening. Hard drive is completely fucked. I had to get a new one. Here is a list of the things that perished when my hard driver decided to kill itself: Almost all of the songs I have recorded since January. UNDER17 Live 2003 DVDrip that took me a year to find. All of my Stepmania simfiles. My childhood innocence. A plethora of amazing websites archived in my Favorites folder. Literally hundreds of pages worth of funny things I had written. Hard to find MP3s that I'll have to spend an endless amount of time on Soulseek to get again. Basically my whole life. Needless to say I am pretty down about it. In fact, I am so down that I have become physically ill, suffering from a devastating cough, lethargy, and explosive diarrhea. Also, I contracted the clap. When I took a bath earlier, attempting to soak the sickness out of my body, I came to the conclusion that I should probably head back to Japan right about now. I have double the money I spent last time, and a lot more knowledge, so I think I can stay for a longer time cheaply and easily. This probably won’t happen though. Oh well. I had sketched out a pretty good LiveJournal idea a few nights ago, something that I think will end up really good. Obviously I don’t feel like writing it right now, though, so instead I’m writing this. Here’s just a sample of some of the funny things that were lost on my computer. I’m pulling this up from memory, so it isn’t as well developed, but you’ll get the picture. Actually, forget it, I can’t even remember it well enough. The punch line involves a copper administering a field sobriety test by asking the alleged drunkard to recite the words to Straight Outta Compton backwards. A kid throws his piss stained jacket at someone and tells them to take it to the dry cleaner. A boy makes a pair of crotchless chaps out of a old jeans and then has his girlfriend try them on. Aliens come down in a spaceship, but after finding out what toilet paper is used for they retreat in horror. Fuck. That was some funny shit I had going. Oh, one more funny thing. When my computer decided to go black all of a sudden I was downloading this awesome looking Japanese lesbian rape porn. Thank God those computer guys never got my computer started, or they would've made fun of me if they had seen that. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, September 13th, 2005
12:17 am	mötley crüe: appetite for destruction I just sneezed, and when I did that I peed in my pants a little. This got me to thinking about all of the things that I need to do less of, with not sneeze-peeing in my pants being a top priority. I also need to cut back on drawing diagrams of vaginas in order to illustrate to unwitting friends where the clitoris is. I have a tendency to lay face down on the floor and methodically hump the carpet for hours; that too needs to stop. I’ve gotten lazy about leaving pornography on my computer. In the past I used to make sure to delete the video files off my computer, delete my history, and delete my cookies. Now, however, I just delete some of the files, keeping the ones that I like, and deleting the Internet Explorer history, but leaving the cookies. This is bad because my mom is all about Toby Keith at the moment, so she makes me download songs by him that she can dance to with my headphones on. This means that she’s looking through my folders trying to find her stellar country music while I’m not around. This means I’ve got to get back to leaving absolutely no trace of my staggering addiction. Not everything needs to be worked on, though. For example, I am all right with not getting dressed ever and sleeping in until Hector’s Fest or jackhammers wake me up. The total lack of motivation is a little discouraging, but at this point I’m pretty much used to it. If I were ambitious I would tell you about how I’m going to record a fucking awesome album before my twentieth (ouch) birthday on October twenty-third. Knowing me, though, by the time December comes around I’ll be saying something along the lines of, “Well, fuck, by the end of February!” Lame. I also had this thing that I’ve tried to write up twice now about an awesome terrorist strike I have in mind. It was originally going to be posted two days ago, but each time I tried to write it it just didn’t work out very well. Needless to say it involved several hundred Big Foots (the beast or the monster truck, your choice), a high pressured water cannon, and thirteen tons of strawberry sprinkles. Heh. I’m just kidding, it actually involved a bunch of truck bombs, a few hijacked planes, biological weapons of mass destruction, and ultimately resulted in the majority of the free world bleeding out of the anus. I have one more story I want to tell really quick. Dan Strelnick had a party a few nights ago, and as usual I stayed out of the porch most of the time. Some girl named Megan, whose last name I forget, was out of the porch for a while too, and apparently she is some sort of rich girl or something, or at least she comes from a really well off family. She asked me to tell her a story about Japan, so I told her the one that starts with me needing to constantly dab my running nose with a Kleenex, and ends with me getting my dick sucked by what I thought was a girl, but turned out to be a shemale. Later on when I suggested that anyone who makes more than thirty-thousand dollars a year should be punched in the face she didn’t agree, but then again mostly no one agreed with me about that. She had big boobs that I would've liked to suck on. She was stupid too. Ok, that's all. I'm done. (1 Comment |Comment on this)