The Harland Highway - PREMIUM CONTENT - Harland reads from his DIARY!

Episode Date: March 19, 2017

Harland does a live show where he has to read excerpts from his personal DIARY! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

BOOD BOO-BOO-DU-DU-DU-DU, I love that. I just love singing along to that. Hello, my premium members. How are you? How are you? Premium members, PMs. Hey, I got a new little special segment just for you guys, just for premium members only. Um, by the way, thank you for being premium members.

Nice to have you on board and I hope you enjoy this special content. A lot of times when I do special events or shows or certain things, I save them just for you guys as a treat. And I recently did this weird kind of a stand-up comedy show at a theater where the premise was the people that put it together, it was you come on the show and you read from your diary. You read excerpts from your diary. And I was like, I don't keep a diary. What am I a girl?

Sorry, girls. I don't write down my, you know, I don't have a diary. So I said yes to the show thinking, okay, this can be a challenge. This can be fun. And I thought, you know what, I'll just make up a diary. I'll write a diary like the day before. So I sat down and I wrote all these fake journal entries into a fake diary and I stuck them all in a little book and I went to this event and I went out there and I read my diary in front of this live audience and it was kind of interesting. It was funny. It was weird. It was not funny. It was weird. It was all kinds of things.

So here's that moment, here's that performance of me reading my fake, don't tell anyone, fake diary in front of a live crowd. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks, premium members. Please put your hands together for Harlan Williams. Hey, Sunset, Dan, how are you? This is way out of my wheelhouse when Diane asked me to do this. I was like, you know, these diaries, you know, the personal warehouses. And, um, okay.

And when Carol asked me to do this show, I was like, It took a lot, but here we go. I never thought I'd be reading these in front of a room full of strangers. But here we go, Sunset, Gang. August 12th, 2016. It was kidding a lot. I wand to the empty streets last night. It was late. I was alone.

I stopped to listen to the sounds of the city. All I could hear was... A homeless guy. Make the wind wind wind. He was dirty, and he had Burger King's soft drink cups for shoes. I asked him, how can you live like this? He said, I'm not living. I'm surviving.

I said, how can you survive like this? He said, I'm not surviving. I'm existing. I said, how can you exist like this? He said, existence is an illusion manifested in the gray matter of the human organism. It cannot be verified in any tangible way. The very definition of illusion is something wrong perceived or interpreted by the census. We both may not even be here right now having this conversation.

I took a deep breath and I stared at him. I said, dude, that's profound. Why aren't you a professor at Berkeley or Yale is coming? His corn grows on the children when the dolphins make Blueberry Five. And the silver asteroid rubs pineapple juice in the eyes of Glenn Campbell's wife. Bounty two-plied paper towels, the quicker picker up. There are baby leeches living in my gum, sucking blood out of my teeth. Want to taste my psoriasis?

and he started pissing on my leg and looked at him calmly and said I get it probably and I kept walking him in the night in the background I heard him singing and impassioned modifies jazz rendition of ricerone

the San Francisco Tree Shibaba Right back in San Francisco Tree Okay I'm sorry I didn't ask me to do this

Friday in May 24 1974 Do you remember that here, Guy My mother was standing at the end of my bed again this morning with it. She held a squirrel by the neck and shrieked, its black beady eyes filled with terror, its rotten yellow teeth quivering and seed-hungry mouth. She smiled and said, Wait the fuck-up, Potsay.

She threw the squirrel into the ceiling fan. Her dog and spung furiously as crimson squirrel blind. in squirrel blood, splattered across my morning pup face. My bedroom walls becoming a pollock painting with every morbid location. She reached under her skirt

and pulled out a carrot. She sniffed it deeply and put it off my bed. Here's your breakfast. Eat while it's still warm. Get dressed for school. Satan wants to use your face in a glory hole.

Mommy loves you. Fuck off. Monday, May 30th, 1974. I was angry again today, I don't know why, I'm scared. Sometimes I get so angry when I'm at school, I don't understand things sometimes. Why the other kids always look like they have no problems? I stopped at Blockbuster video all the way home. I rented teen wolf and watched it on fast rewinds three times.

I think I feel better. I think I feel better now. I decided to put a pot on the stove and boil some water. I dropped the teen wolf video in just because I knew I could. It made me feel powerful. I boiled that video for 20 minutes and then stuck it back in the VHS machine. My little brother called the Fire Department. Adolescent werewolves can go suck browning the clowny's fart hole.

I've had teenage werewolves masturbate all over trees and try to squirt on baby birds crying in their nests. You know, Sarah said to come in to do this, but... May 9, 2014, you remember that, your guy, that was the time you get your first word Waldo book and smash it on your grandmother's fucking face. The last two months I've been watering my house plants with a bite of water, under the assumptions that plants would surely benefit from the added nutrients in the called water. Virtually all of my plants are now dead, shriveled up, dry, and browned like a severed carnival

monkey paw. I've sent a strongly worded letter to 50 cent, as I have heard through various unbearings unverified sources that he is a primary owner in the Bytewater Corporation. I get to hear back from the charismatic controversial and sometimes troubled rap performance artist. Hopefully, I hear from him soon, and I can begin to put this horrible chapter of my life behind me. Right, Gavin? October 22nd, 2000. I woke up at 2 in the morning to watch actor bloopers on YouTube.

All these fucking actors crack each other up. Burton Reynolds, Sandler, Kristen Wigg, Sandra Bullock. But then I found a Marlon Brando blooper from Apocalypse now where Brando was sweating in the shadow of rambling about all life's horrors. You take the ones that are made for God Steve Hell, you take the others who are made to think, but who can't happen. You take... And I swallow the bum.

I realize even his bloopers are better than most fucking actors. You know, when Chris has said, come down to this beautiful theater. Well, let's just keep going. How much time do I have? Was I, my mom? Like two. What's that? Two minutes?

Great, great. Like, stop. Wednesday, June 12th, 78. I didn't even say 1970. I just said 78 for time. Okay, you're gonna laugh. I had a dream that Karen Carpenter was fucking Kenny G on an inkler. When they were finished, an associate from Ikea popped up from a hole in the ice,

in the ice and offer to assemble a bookshelf on Karen Carpenter's clip. Fucking dreams. I guess that's why they call them dreams, because who the hell could make this shit up? Do I flawny? April 24-72. My dad drove me to school today and asked me if everything was okay. I asked him what he meant. He asked me if I still had fantasies about snapping my knees backwards so I could walk like a crab.

Crabb. Okay, I mean, you're going to laugh. Funny, we just happened to be passing a red lobster restaurant with a sign-out side that said, Crab Fess is back for spring. Come on in and dip your crab legs and pop butter for $14.99. I told him I no longer had the crab lake fanaties. But in my head, a pitch of my legs snapped back or over it. listening with warm yellow butter and kicking a soccer ball and went into a net to win the world cut that year.

So you're good, impressed? I said, yeah, but I want to get my bulldozer license soon so I can run over my own face. That's when he accidentally went through the red lights and hit a guy crossing the intersection wearing a parapawcett t-shirt. He's smashing into the windshield and the way he landed, Farah Fawcett's face was staring right into mine. That's one of the guy's broken ribs was sticking out of her forehead from that day are. I always called it Farah rhinoceros faucet. I'm almost done. Monday, September 12, 79, I found out Diane Fosse was murdered today.

I never trusted guerrillas. They got those sneaky, fucking shifty eyes. They just tell the way they look at you that they're planning a murder. They look you sideways and look away. They make eye contact, but just for a second, they're fucking plotting all the time. I bet Fosse was in her cabin in the jungle

making fucking monkey sounds into a radio shack tape recorder and some fucking gorilla jacked up on banana oil and bamboo grease, kicked her fucking door and punched her head off, and took a banana stop ball, over her research. Never trust those damn guerrillas fucking murders. I'm going to add all this. Might be about just a minute, ten seconds, so don't cut my mic off. August 8th, 2001. I saw a beautiful woman at a gas station today. Blonding? You could stop I'm texting during my last day.

I thought beautiful woman at a gas station today. I think she might be the girl I've wanted my whole life. I can't stop thinking about her. I have to write about her. There she stood like a lost, sacred vision. Her smile cut through me like a perfect incision. Her eyes are so warm like the sparkle on a river. One look at me because my body is shimmer.

Her hair across her face, tossed by the breeze. Her laugh like a song across wide endless seas. Her walk like a sway, a willow in the wind. All of my life just where has she been? Who was this girl with skin smooth as sand? All of my riches if just to hold her hand. How could such beauty exist in this world? I couldn't find the answer as my answer.

mind just unfurled. All I could do was watch and be awed. This woman before me, perfection unflod. And as she left, she turned back to me, winged and softly whispered, what do you see? The sun and the stars, the ocean, and the rain. Love, hurt, and lust, joy, death, and pain. Then you see just the beginning of all I can be. Come over here and put a kiss onto me. I walked. Now I floated into her embrace. My lips just near inches from her near perfect face.

Our mouths crashed together like the waves on the shore. I closed my eyes and existed no more. Our bodies pressed together with lustful desperation. words I never hear on unimaginable revelations I love you she spoke as she stared in my eyes moonbeams

walter's tits see you younger asshole and pie I took a step backwards and realized it was the insane homeless guy shit thank you

Thank you very much. Thank you very much. Thank you very much. Okay, so there it is. There it is my secret diaries full of intrigue, full of dark, deep secrets. Deep Secrets, full of BS, really.

Like I said, I made all that crap up, obviously. Uh-huh. And, you know, I'm sorry the sound quality was a bit rough in there. It was a very echoy, empty kind of theater. It was like high ceilings and not a great sound system. So I apologize. Also, the microphone I normally used to record that kind of stuff was out. So I had to use an alt-mic, and it wasn't quite.

as good, but hopefully you're able to hear that. Hopefully there was something in there that made you chuckle or made you shut it off. I don't know. But hey, man, thank you, premium members. I will have more cool stuff for you guys in the days, weeks and months ahead. Again, I truly appreciate you signing up

and being part of this special little group. And that's it for now. Until then. Keep writing stuff down in your diary. And watch out for homeless people. Heyo! Thank you.