It's true. I really do.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
The Last Last Temptation of Christ
I recently watched the critically acclaimed and controversial movie by Martin Scorsese. And I have to say that I am in complete and utter disagreement with most of the ideas behind this film. I think that the entire conception of it was designed to piss people off, and it worked. Now, I'm not a firm believer in God but I AM a firm believer in Jesus. I believe that meteors are NOT what killed the dinosaurs. Jesus did... with karate (thank you, Pat McCready). There are a lot of things missing from the Bible: scriptures, books, ect. The fact of the matter is people were too fucking stupid back then to be able to understand the concept known as "The Messiah."
In the distant future at an unknown year, Jesus built a time machine. The time machine was based on a model of a Delorean from the twentieth century that was outfitted with a flux capacitor: a device that allows time travel to be possible. Jesus' intention was to go back in time and have sex with a distant relative of his (his greatest grandmother imaginable that he could trace), impregnating her and by doing so, making himself immortal through some incredibly complex time paradox that even blows my mind when I try and even think about it.
A party led by Squall Leonhardt attempted to stop Jesus from following through with this course of action, chasing him to the ends of the Earth and finally back to Midgar. Cloud Strife was supposed to land a killing blow on Jesus in his Jenova form, but his omnislash didn't hit 9,999 every time, and Jesus made off in the Delorean barely surviving the battle.
Jesus arrives in the past, wooes and does the deed with his greatest grandmother imaginable and once he is assured that his seed has taken hold, uses his magical powers to re-manifest his life force into the fetus. Joseph, the husband of Mary, threatens to give her a rusty coathanger abortion, but she pleads with him denying the sexual encounter saying that "God put this child in me." Joseph has a mid-life crisis and shaves off his handle-bar mustache. He attends AA meetings as well and sells his motorcycle for less than he could have gotten it for at blue-book price.
After Jesus is reborn (I have to say reborn), Joseph and Mary divorce because he slips back into his alcoholism. Jesus resents his father. He isn't able to get a job anywhere when he's sixteen because he's just a bashful teenager who is good at making shit up and writing it down and talking about it but he sucks at math and science. He is held back many a grade. He flops on every job interview until his alcoholic father offers him a job as a carpenter. Jesus spends all of his money on weed and prostitutes. He listens to The Mars Volta every day with massive headphones. He has friends, but they use him for his shitty quality weed and his Advanced Dungeons and Dragons set. He is SUCH a dick when he is the Dungeon Master.
One day, Jesus is told by an angel that he is the Messiah. It wasn't really an angel, it was a vision of Donnie Dokken. Donnie Dokken reveals to Jesus the Delorean, telling him to set the controls to 1984. He also tells Jesus that he's been living a lie, and his name is really Danny Russo. The rest is film history.
(for documentation of these missing scriptures, please review The Karate Kid parts I to III).
Jesus returns to his time. He is a fucking asshole who is a master of Karate. He brings people back to life and heals people with the powers he aquired from the Bonzai Dojo and his Master: Mister Miyagi (also known as Arnold from Happy Days). He also puts to use a water to wine trick that he learned so that he could consistently be drunk all the time. One day, he was drunk and he went back in time and killed the dinosaurs off before a meteor did. Then he went up to the meteor with Bruce Willis, Steve Buscemi and Ben Affleck and nuked it.
After returning to his own time, Donnie Dokken appeared to him once again in a dream and told him that he was going to be crucified after a citation for time travel and killing off mythical beasts. He started hanging out with a bunch of nerds (who used to be his D&D buddies in high school) and prostitutes and developed a nasty addiction to heroin. He started a hype to get these disgusting people to follow him that he was the Messiah and if they didn't follow what he said, they were going to Hell.
This is a picture of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.
During this entire time, Satan was pissed off. He sent for Skeletor and Megatron to battle Jesus and his Apostles. Jesus and his Apostles formed Voltron and easily defeated their foes. Afterward they had dinner. Jesus was so drunk that he told everyone that his blood was wine. They asked him: "Well then what is your body?" They were all strung out on meth. He told them that his body is made of bread and that he's some sort of bread monster from the future. They laughed. But little did they know how true this statement was.
So Jesus gets beaten and nailed to the cross for killing off the dinosaurs. The only sex he had in this lifetime was paid for in cheap motel rooms with girls with fake names like Mary Magdelene (which sounds like a stripper name to me to be honest). Pontius Pilate begins developing a system to bring back the dinosaurs using genetic engineering in order to form a theme park on an island (for more information on this scripture, please review Jurassic Park and the Lost World. But fuck the third JP movie. It sucked. Pontius Pilate is really the old guy, he just uses Vitamin Water and smokes Lucky Strikes to make himself immortal which you find out Jesus SHOULD have done instead of this roundabout time paradox shit).
His friends write books about him that consist of lies to cover up the reality that Jesus is in fact a drunken dino-killer.
Jesus is NOT immortal but his spirit lives on in a ring that he constructed in the fires of Mount Doom. Eventually this ring is found by Marty McFly and by coincidence, the Delorean technology is found by Doc Brown. They reunite. Jesus' spirit manifests itself after three movies in Marty McFly, making him the new time-traveling Messiah. Unfortunately his host gets Parkinson's Disease and you can only find him on re-runs of Spin City. He's only in re-runs because this is what he looks like now:
The ring makes its way back to the year 2004. It is now being worn by Kanye West, which explains why he has such an immense talent.
(For a brief period of time, Chris Brown was the ringbearer of Jesus. Due to the corrupting power of it, Rihanna attempted to steal it for herself and Chris Brown beat the shit out of her for it. Kanye West punched out his car window and ripped Chris Brown's hand off and took the ring back, and Chris Brown currently has a prosthetic hand much like Luke Skywalker has).
I found God on Google. So now, I believe.
*Just a quick note... I am NOT bashing Christianity. I'm just bashing people who take an idea and put words in peoples' mouths.*
In the distant future at an unknown year, Jesus built a time machine. The time machine was based on a model of a Delorean from the twentieth century that was outfitted with a flux capacitor: a device that allows time travel to be possible. Jesus' intention was to go back in time and have sex with a distant relative of his (his greatest grandmother imaginable that he could trace), impregnating her and by doing so, making himself immortal through some incredibly complex time paradox that even blows my mind when I try and even think about it.
A party led by Squall Leonhardt attempted to stop Jesus from following through with this course of action, chasing him to the ends of the Earth and finally back to Midgar. Cloud Strife was supposed to land a killing blow on Jesus in his Jenova form, but his omnislash didn't hit 9,999 every time, and Jesus made off in the Delorean barely surviving the battle.
Jesus arrives in the past, wooes and does the deed with his greatest grandmother imaginable and once he is assured that his seed has taken hold, uses his magical powers to re-manifest his life force into the fetus. Joseph, the husband of Mary, threatens to give her a rusty coathanger abortion, but she pleads with him denying the sexual encounter saying that "God put this child in me." Joseph has a mid-life crisis and shaves off his handle-bar mustache. He attends AA meetings as well and sells his motorcycle for less than he could have gotten it for at blue-book price.
After Jesus is reborn (I have to say reborn), Joseph and Mary divorce because he slips back into his alcoholism. Jesus resents his father. He isn't able to get a job anywhere when he's sixteen because he's just a bashful teenager who is good at making shit up and writing it down and talking about it but he sucks at math and science. He is held back many a grade. He flops on every job interview until his alcoholic father offers him a job as a carpenter. Jesus spends all of his money on weed and prostitutes. He listens to The Mars Volta every day with massive headphones. He has friends, but they use him for his shitty quality weed and his Advanced Dungeons and Dragons set. He is SUCH a dick when he is the Dungeon Master.
One day, Jesus is told by an angel that he is the Messiah. It wasn't really an angel, it was a vision of Donnie Dokken. Donnie Dokken reveals to Jesus the Delorean, telling him to set the controls to 1984. He also tells Jesus that he's been living a lie, and his name is really Danny Russo. The rest is film history.
(for documentation of these missing scriptures, please review The Karate Kid parts I to III).
Jesus returns to his time. He is a fucking asshole who is a master of Karate. He brings people back to life and heals people with the powers he aquired from the Bonzai Dojo and his Master: Mister Miyagi (also known as Arnold from Happy Days). He also puts to use a water to wine trick that he learned so that he could consistently be drunk all the time. One day, he was drunk and he went back in time and killed the dinosaurs off before a meteor did. Then he went up to the meteor with Bruce Willis, Steve Buscemi and Ben Affleck and nuked it.
After returning to his own time, Donnie Dokken appeared to him once again in a dream and told him that he was going to be crucified after a citation for time travel and killing off mythical beasts. He started hanging out with a bunch of nerds (who used to be his D&D buddies in high school) and prostitutes and developed a nasty addiction to heroin. He started a hype to get these disgusting people to follow him that he was the Messiah and if they didn't follow what he said, they were going to Hell.
This is a picture of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.
During this entire time, Satan was pissed off. He sent for Skeletor and Megatron to battle Jesus and his Apostles. Jesus and his Apostles formed Voltron and easily defeated their foes. Afterward they had dinner. Jesus was so drunk that he told everyone that his blood was wine. They asked him: "Well then what is your body?" They were all strung out on meth. He told them that his body is made of bread and that he's some sort of bread monster from the future. They laughed. But little did they know how true this statement was.
So Jesus gets beaten and nailed to the cross for killing off the dinosaurs. The only sex he had in this lifetime was paid for in cheap motel rooms with girls with fake names like Mary Magdelene (which sounds like a stripper name to me to be honest). Pontius Pilate begins developing a system to bring back the dinosaurs using genetic engineering in order to form a theme park on an island (for more information on this scripture, please review Jurassic Park and the Lost World. But fuck the third JP movie. It sucked. Pontius Pilate is really the old guy, he just uses Vitamin Water and smokes Lucky Strikes to make himself immortal which you find out Jesus SHOULD have done instead of this roundabout time paradox shit).
His friends write books about him that consist of lies to cover up the reality that Jesus is in fact a drunken dino-killer.
Jesus is NOT immortal but his spirit lives on in a ring that he constructed in the fires of Mount Doom. Eventually this ring is found by Marty McFly and by coincidence, the Delorean technology is found by Doc Brown. They reunite. Jesus' spirit manifests itself after three movies in Marty McFly, making him the new time-traveling Messiah. Unfortunately his host gets Parkinson's Disease and you can only find him on re-runs of Spin City. He's only in re-runs because this is what he looks like now:
The ring makes its way back to the year 2004. It is now being worn by Kanye West, which explains why he has such an immense talent.
(For a brief period of time, Chris Brown was the ringbearer of Jesus. Due to the corrupting power of it, Rihanna attempted to steal it for herself and Chris Brown beat the shit out of her for it. Kanye West punched out his car window and ripped Chris Brown's hand off and took the ring back, and Chris Brown currently has a prosthetic hand much like Luke Skywalker has).
I found God on Google. So now, I believe.
*Just a quick note... I am NOT bashing Christianity. I'm just bashing people who take an idea and put words in peoples' mouths.*
Thursday, March 12, 2009
03122009
"You taste like self-destruction. I'll follow where I'm led, but you cannot rape the willing."
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
03112009
I'm trying to rip you off as we speak... er, I mean as I'm typing this or you're reading it.
Supposedly, Mountain Dew has a colouring in it that makes your penis smaller or something. Some kind of yellow. I think that I need to go on a strictly Mountain Dew diet, so that I can stop killing women that I have sex with. I boast about the size of my penis because sometimes it's funny, but that wasn't. I am a douche.
I DO like my women like I like my coffee though: ground up and in the freezer.
I'm a big brother again today. What does that mean for me? NOTHING! Except now I get to be awake at all hours of the night and I get to wake up all groggy and pissed off. This could be a turn for the worst... I'm already slowly but surely going insane and this might be just another check that my sanity might not be able to cash.
I'm totally kidding. I'm happy about the new family addition.
I AM FUELED BY COFFEE! I kept waking up in the middle of the night last night because I have to sleep on the couch on the count of my grandma being in town staying with us because of the baby being born. I kept rolling almost off the couch. And then I woke up and I'd slept through my fucking alarm! But it's okay I had plenty of time to get ready for work. I just usually like to enjoy a nice cup of joe and a cigarette as well as a bowl of cocoa krispies before I head into work.
What happened to 30 Seconds To Mars?! They're not good anymore. Beautiful Lie is a terrible album. I know this is old news, but still. I do like the Bjork cover that's on there though. I just like Bjork in general. Good sleeping music.
Someone asked me what poetic cannibalism is last night after reading my blog. It's writing about the things that "eat away" at you. Like your vices, disagreements, broken heartedness, ect. It's pessimistic writing, basically. I'm working on trying to not be so much of a pessimist. But I'm evil. So it's hard not to. My writing is my "Frankenstein." My creation. My monster.
I'm killing time until lunch. I'm going to eat something healthy, like a fucking salad with a TON of dressing or maybe a bowl of vegetable soup. Sometimes I feel like I should go back to being a vegetarian because I don't even like meat. I need to gain some weight though. At least ten pounds and when I do I'll be good. I'm too fucking skinny and it disgusts me. I can't find a girl to date who weighs less than me. I haven't been able to since I lost all my weight in the 9th grade.
Just a quick update. More to come for today probably.
Supposedly, Mountain Dew has a colouring in it that makes your penis smaller or something. Some kind of yellow. I think that I need to go on a strictly Mountain Dew diet, so that I can stop killing women that I have sex with. I boast about the size of my penis because sometimes it's funny, but that wasn't. I am a douche.
I DO like my women like I like my coffee though: ground up and in the freezer.
I'm a big brother again today. What does that mean for me? NOTHING! Except now I get to be awake at all hours of the night and I get to wake up all groggy and pissed off. This could be a turn for the worst... I'm already slowly but surely going insane and this might be just another check that my sanity might not be able to cash.
I'm totally kidding. I'm happy about the new family addition.
I AM FUELED BY COFFEE! I kept waking up in the middle of the night last night because I have to sleep on the couch on the count of my grandma being in town staying with us because of the baby being born. I kept rolling almost off the couch. And then I woke up and I'd slept through my fucking alarm! But it's okay I had plenty of time to get ready for work. I just usually like to enjoy a nice cup of joe and a cigarette as well as a bowl of cocoa krispies before I head into work.
What happened to 30 Seconds To Mars?! They're not good anymore. Beautiful Lie is a terrible album. I know this is old news, but still. I do like the Bjork cover that's on there though. I just like Bjork in general. Good sleeping music.
Someone asked me what poetic cannibalism is last night after reading my blog. It's writing about the things that "eat away" at you. Like your vices, disagreements, broken heartedness, ect. It's pessimistic writing, basically. I'm working on trying to not be so much of a pessimist. But I'm evil. So it's hard not to. My writing is my "Frankenstein." My creation. My monster.
I'm killing time until lunch. I'm going to eat something healthy, like a fucking salad with a TON of dressing or maybe a bowl of vegetable soup. Sometimes I feel like I should go back to being a vegetarian because I don't even like meat. I need to gain some weight though. At least ten pounds and when I do I'll be good. I'm too fucking skinny and it disgusts me. I can't find a girl to date who weighs less than me. I haven't been able to since I lost all my weight in the 9th grade.
Just a quick update. More to come for today probably.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
About Me.
I'm supposed to be a stereotypical male. I'm supposed to be this ignorant fuck who goes to parties to get wasted and smoke all the weed in the world while I listen to Whitechapel. I'm supposed to wear shirts from places like Hollister and Abercrombie, and I'm supposed to buy my band tees from Hot Topic. I'm supposed to be br00talcore!!! or some shit. I'm supposed to quote Chuck Klosterman books and have a complete collection of Palahnuik that I've never touched. I'm supposed to LOVE the movie Twilight. I'm supposed to have hair longer than my girlfriends (who I cheat on all the time). I'm supposed to stand for To Write Love On Her Arms, and I'm supposed to be in a Christian band that's full of hypocritical pieces of shit.
The truth is, I'm not any of these things. I don't stand for any of these things. Chuck Klosterman isn't even a writer. He's just some asshole that decided to get behind a typewriter and talk about his fucking opinions. I'll tell you what I am:
I'm NOT a stereotypical male. I was born in the desert and raised by a pack of coyotes. At an early age I developed my snake-catching skills. I introduced fire to my comrades. I don't tan well, I only burn. And I wear the skins of the animals that I kill, such as the mythical desert beast (that doesn't exist anymore because I fucked his world up).
At the age of ten, I wandered into Pallet Town and decided that I wanted to be a Pokemon trainer. But then, I saw this wonderful, beautiful thing and I changed my mind: an acoustic guitar with vinyl strings and in it a soul of its own. So I saved up my money, doing paper routes and mowing lawns for people until I could have this illustrious instrument. I remember the first time I played it.
I sucked. But it felt so beautiful.
I decided that I wanted to find out what it meant to believe in God. So I went to church and played in the band. But God was not in the church. They always told me to go find him, but they never once gave me any clues as to where he was! They just told me to look for him. They say the church is God's home, but that fucker must always be on business trips and he's probably cheating on his wife with a woman who won't tell him her real name.
Blasphemy? You tell me.
I went back out into the desert with nothing but a guitar on my back and rock and roll in my heart. On my journey I met a man named Benjamin Janz. He couldn't grow facial hair but his sideburns were long and unkempt. I laughed at him.
I returned to the city to find that I had been gone for six years. I made money playing "Wonderwall" on the streets. Just that one song, no other ones. People threw money into my guitar case, and I used it to go to thrift stores and buy a respectable set of attire for myself. I also ate Taco Bell bean burritos every single day.
My hair was long. I'd never cut it before and it was messy and disgusting and knotted. So I cut it off at the Viridian City Barber shop. I hopped on a train and went to California... at least I thought it was going to California. It went to New Fucking Jersey. I made friends with the Devil and sold my soul to him for blues stardom. It didn't work so I wiped my ass with the contract after one of my Taco Bell binges.
I got a job at Hot Topic. I stole everything from there, and then I quit.
So by now, I've learned how to play the shit out of a guitar. I begin to grunt and realize I could have some success as a vocalist, so my primary focus shifts to this. A band asks me to join. I say no. They offer me Taco Bell and Vitamin Water. I agree. I am now the lead singer of a band. I have sex with my hand occasionally in a conversion van full of dudes. They're all Christian, but I turn them into Nihilists when I explain my situation with finding God.
On tour I'm given a cigarette. I become addicted. I RAGE FOREVER WHEN I DON'T HAVE ONE! Either that or I just have sex with my hand fifteen times. That takes the edge off.
I learn what Google is in a Starbucks in Joplin, Missouri. I can be quoted saying:
"I FOUND GOD ON GOOGLE!"
So now, I am a Christian. And you all suck. Go fuck yourselves.
The truth is, I'm not any of these things. I don't stand for any of these things. Chuck Klosterman isn't even a writer. He's just some asshole that decided to get behind a typewriter and talk about his fucking opinions. I'll tell you what I am:
I'm NOT a stereotypical male. I was born in the desert and raised by a pack of coyotes. At an early age I developed my snake-catching skills. I introduced fire to my comrades. I don't tan well, I only burn. And I wear the skins of the animals that I kill, such as the mythical desert beast (that doesn't exist anymore because I fucked his world up).
At the age of ten, I wandered into Pallet Town and decided that I wanted to be a Pokemon trainer. But then, I saw this wonderful, beautiful thing and I changed my mind: an acoustic guitar with vinyl strings and in it a soul of its own. So I saved up my money, doing paper routes and mowing lawns for people until I could have this illustrious instrument. I remember the first time I played it.
I sucked. But it felt so beautiful.
I decided that I wanted to find out what it meant to believe in God. So I went to church and played in the band. But God was not in the church. They always told me to go find him, but they never once gave me any clues as to where he was! They just told me to look for him. They say the church is God's home, but that fucker must always be on business trips and he's probably cheating on his wife with a woman who won't tell him her real name.
Blasphemy? You tell me.
I went back out into the desert with nothing but a guitar on my back and rock and roll in my heart. On my journey I met a man named Benjamin Janz. He couldn't grow facial hair but his sideburns were long and unkempt. I laughed at him.
I returned to the city to find that I had been gone for six years. I made money playing "Wonderwall" on the streets. Just that one song, no other ones. People threw money into my guitar case, and I used it to go to thrift stores and buy a respectable set of attire for myself. I also ate Taco Bell bean burritos every single day.
My hair was long. I'd never cut it before and it was messy and disgusting and knotted. So I cut it off at the Viridian City Barber shop. I hopped on a train and went to California... at least I thought it was going to California. It went to New Fucking Jersey. I made friends with the Devil and sold my soul to him for blues stardom. It didn't work so I wiped my ass with the contract after one of my Taco Bell binges.
I got a job at Hot Topic. I stole everything from there, and then I quit.
So by now, I've learned how to play the shit out of a guitar. I begin to grunt and realize I could have some success as a vocalist, so my primary focus shifts to this. A band asks me to join. I say no. They offer me Taco Bell and Vitamin Water. I agree. I am now the lead singer of a band. I have sex with my hand occasionally in a conversion van full of dudes. They're all Christian, but I turn them into Nihilists when I explain my situation with finding God.
On tour I'm given a cigarette. I become addicted. I RAGE FOREVER WHEN I DON'T HAVE ONE! Either that or I just have sex with my hand fifteen times. That takes the edge off.
I learn what Google is in a Starbucks in Joplin, Missouri. I can be quoted saying:
"I FOUND GOD ON GOOGLE!"
So now, I am a Christian. And you all suck. Go fuck yourselves.
03102009C
Okay... so my lunch break. I couldn't figure out what to do. I have about fourty five minutes to work with so let's see what I get done on here.
My room was a fucking mess this morning and my grandmother is sleeping in there. Yes, I am a nice enough guy to forfeit my bed so that my grandmother can sleep comfortably. Meanwhile, I'll be sleeping on the couch or something. It's something I'm pretty used to. Hell, a month ago I would give anything for someone to give me a fucking FLOOR to sleep on. So it's whatever. I love my grandmother.
So I cleaned up my mess and found more notes that I'd written for myself that should probably be burned before they're found and my secrets get out. I don't want my family to think that I've completely lost it. The funny thing is that my dad will try and get into my head and understand where I'm coming from with some of the things I think and believe and feel. But he doesn't know anything. And he assumes that he's been in my position before, like I'm living some sort of fucking legacy that he set forth before I was even conceived. It's a bunch of nonsense.
I NEED BOOKS! I'm seriously losing it. I hate television. I don't watch movies. I just want to sit down and read with a nice cup of tea and the occasional smoke break. If anyone has any books they want to donate to my cause, then please assist me. For the most part, I read philosophical fiction books, satire and black comedy.
I'm going to have some crazy catching up to do with my comics. Really, all I'm worried about are Invincible Iron Man, Ultimate Iron Man, Ghost Rider, Captain America, Thor, and Ultimate Spider-man. MAYBE Ultimate X-Men and Ultimate Fantastic Four, but no one that I've been talking to has said much about the last two so there must just be some downtime in them or something. I'm twenty-three years old, yes. And I still read comic books. I'm kind of glad that I didn't take my collection with me to Gabi's because I would have lost all of it.
Speaking of which I need to get a hold of some cash and go on a shopping spree. I have like no clothes.
In a way, I'm glad that Ashley basically forced me to get a hold of my uncle because after a series of events I'm not on the streets anymore. If I hadn't, I have no the fuck idea where I would be right now or what I'd be doing. So I do need to thank her for that. I don't know if she still reads this or what. I definitely couldn't go on much longer staying with friends and spending the night in all night coffee shops. There's only so much of that I could probably take.
Luckily I have a family that loves me, no matter how much we disagree about everything that has anything to do with any aspect of life. I do need to get out of my dad's house because I'm still not adjusted to living with my parents. Even though I did it for a while after I moved back from Iowa. I'm used to being self-sufficient and able to make my own daily decisions. I don't even determine what time I wake up in the morning anymore.
I need to move on. Still, I have this weight around my ankle. It sucks. But it is what it is.
I'll write more later.
My room was a fucking mess this morning and my grandmother is sleeping in there. Yes, I am a nice enough guy to forfeit my bed so that my grandmother can sleep comfortably. Meanwhile, I'll be sleeping on the couch or something. It's something I'm pretty used to. Hell, a month ago I would give anything for someone to give me a fucking FLOOR to sleep on. So it's whatever. I love my grandmother.
So I cleaned up my mess and found more notes that I'd written for myself that should probably be burned before they're found and my secrets get out. I don't want my family to think that I've completely lost it. The funny thing is that my dad will try and get into my head and understand where I'm coming from with some of the things I think and believe and feel. But he doesn't know anything. And he assumes that he's been in my position before, like I'm living some sort of fucking legacy that he set forth before I was even conceived. It's a bunch of nonsense.
I NEED BOOKS! I'm seriously losing it. I hate television. I don't watch movies. I just want to sit down and read with a nice cup of tea and the occasional smoke break. If anyone has any books they want to donate to my cause, then please assist me. For the most part, I read philosophical fiction books, satire and black comedy.
I'm going to have some crazy catching up to do with my comics. Really, all I'm worried about are Invincible Iron Man, Ultimate Iron Man, Ghost Rider, Captain America, Thor, and Ultimate Spider-man. MAYBE Ultimate X-Men and Ultimate Fantastic Four, but no one that I've been talking to has said much about the last two so there must just be some downtime in them or something. I'm twenty-three years old, yes. And I still read comic books. I'm kind of glad that I didn't take my collection with me to Gabi's because I would have lost all of it.
Speaking of which I need to get a hold of some cash and go on a shopping spree. I have like no clothes.
In a way, I'm glad that Ashley basically forced me to get a hold of my uncle because after a series of events I'm not on the streets anymore. If I hadn't, I have no the fuck idea where I would be right now or what I'd be doing. So I do need to thank her for that. I don't know if she still reads this or what. I definitely couldn't go on much longer staying with friends and spending the night in all night coffee shops. There's only so much of that I could probably take.
Luckily I have a family that loves me, no matter how much we disagree about everything that has anything to do with any aspect of life. I do need to get out of my dad's house because I'm still not adjusted to living with my parents. Even though I did it for a while after I moved back from Iowa. I'm used to being self-sufficient and able to make my own daily decisions. I don't even determine what time I wake up in the morning anymore.
I need to move on. Still, I have this weight around my ankle. It sucks. But it is what it is.
I'll write more later.
03102009B
I got this from Stephen Christian's (the vocalist from Anberlin) blog. I read it regularly. This is actually an old post, but I think it's vital as to where I currently stand in life right now:
"there once was a hindu holy man who saw a scorpion floundering around in the water. he decided to save it by stretching out his finger. but the scorpion stung him. the man still tried to get the scorpion out of the water, but the scorpion stung him again. a man nearby told him to stop saving the scorpion that kept stinging him. but the holy man said, "it is the nature of the scorpion to sting. it is my nature my love. why should i give up my nature to love just because it is the nature of the scorpion to sting?"it should be our nature to love regardless of who we are, regardless of what has been done to us. its hard. i know. trust me. people are always going to sting you. they are going to rip into your character. they are going to be the ones in the platform telling you that your views are wrong. they are going to be in the pulpits pointing fingers in judgement. they are going to be the ones who hold your whole race responsible for the actions of one person's actions.but that doesn't give you the right to despise; for hate for those who hate is still hate. in spite of those who may sting you remain in what you know to be your nature. love."
I just felt the need to post it.
"there once was a hindu holy man who saw a scorpion floundering around in the water. he decided to save it by stretching out his finger. but the scorpion stung him. the man still tried to get the scorpion out of the water, but the scorpion stung him again. a man nearby told him to stop saving the scorpion that kept stinging him. but the holy man said, "it is the nature of the scorpion to sting. it is my nature my love. why should i give up my nature to love just because it is the nature of the scorpion to sting?"it should be our nature to love regardless of who we are, regardless of what has been done to us. its hard. i know. trust me. people are always going to sting you. they are going to rip into your character. they are going to be the ones in the platform telling you that your views are wrong. they are going to be in the pulpits pointing fingers in judgement. they are going to be the ones who hold your whole race responsible for the actions of one person's actions.but that doesn't give you the right to despise; for hate for those who hate is still hate. in spite of those who may sting you remain in what you know to be your nature. love."
I just felt the need to post it.
03102009A
I watched someone die in my sleep last night, right in front of me. And I just stood there with my arms crossed.
"That's what you get, bitch. I hope you burn."
I can't believe how horrible of a person I've become. One of the things that I've been working on as of late is getting my life on track and giving myself direction. I think that along with that, I need to let some of the things of the past go. I need to become a better person because I've seen and felt what it's like to be hurt by someone like me firsthand, and it's not a pleasant experience.
I need to scrap everything and start over.
"That's what you get, bitch. I hope you burn."
I can't believe how horrible of a person I've become. One of the things that I've been working on as of late is getting my life on track and giving myself direction. I think that along with that, I need to let some of the things of the past go. I need to become a better person because I've seen and felt what it's like to be hurt by someone like me firsthand, and it's not a pleasant experience.
I need to scrap everything and start over.
Monday, March 9, 2009
03092009
I wrote this last night before I went to bed:
Right now I'm in one of those moods where everything I see pisses me off. I have a package of pop tarts with a cartoon on them quoted saying:
"Wanna arm wrestle?"
No. I want to punch you in the face you stupid cartoon.
I wish that i could hide under my blankets and make time pass by faster. I want to end up on a day where my life doesn't feel like a complete wreck. Who the fuck knows when that'll be?
There's an empty box of valentines. I'm not even sure why. They're the kind that you give out to all the kids in class on Valentine's Day. I took one out and with a pen I wrote on it. There's a box of crayons on it and it says:
"You color my world. I love you"
At least that was what it said before I scratched words out and wrote them back in. Now it says "You ruined my world. I hate you." The crayon box has a blackened eye and is missing some teeth and is frowning.
My Zune is full of happy, lovey music that you think would cheer me up. Nope. It just makes me crave more cigarettes and want to put a fucking hole in the wall with my fist. And I need to conserve cigarettes. So I'm listening to Throwdown, eating pop tarts and drinking a bottle of Vitamin Water. How wholesome?!
I couldn't just write a book on heartache. I could write an entire fucking series.
I'm done with being hurt by her. I should be happy. But why the aggression? Why can't I stop thinking about it?
I wish a ninja would break into my house in the middle of the night and kill me when I was either sleeping or at unawares. This would fulfill my lifelong desire to meet a real life ninja. Wouldn't that be neat? Just like taking a ride on the Universal Tour, but through a goddamn Jackie Chan film.
What's funny is I have a television in my room that I'm pretty sure I'll never use. My parents always come downstairs and ask me to turn down my music though on my stereo and I don't think it's nearly loud enough. I need better headphones or something and then I will be FREE!
I'm writing this on a series of post-it notes, so some of this might be out of the order that I wrote it. Not that it matters. It's all random bullshit squabbling. I need to stop being so cheap and actually invest what... like three dollars into a legitimate real life notebook. Because fuck this.
All of my clothes smell like cigarettes and I haven't worn most of them since I washed them. I don't know how that works when I smoke outside.
(I wrote something here but I scratched it out. Something sexual and crude more than likely but I can't read it).
Scratch that.
I hate love. What a paradox.
Fucking. Stupid. Shit.
And people wonder why I don't trust anyone anymore. I should just make a note to walk around people when I meet them before I open up to them to see what they're hiding behind their back.
I really do want the world around me to burn to the ground so that I can start from scratch.
As long as I have my pop tarts, my Vitamin Water, my cigarettes and my friend: The Box of Tough As Fuck Crayolas.
I regret not numbering these little sticky notes. So far I have about eight or nine of them. Yes, I write small. And yes, you probably can't read it. Right now as long as you get the point, I could give a fuck less about fluidity. And just so you all know, everything I write that isn't typed is in fucking cursive. It's even hard for me to read, let alone anyone else.
I want to scuba dive and make friends with all of the ugly fish. Then I want to fillet and eat the ones who aren't ugly because I am NOT eating an ugly fish.
Time time time.
I haven't set my clock forward. I don't want to get up either. Damn me and my snooze button hitting tendencies. I put the clock across the room to prevent that. Now I'm going to pass out and wake up an hour late for work.
(Which I did the next morning, hahaha!).
I REALLY want to watch Pulp Fiction.
I also really hate talking about myself but no one gives me anything interesting to talk about anymore. And fuck having life experiences when you don't have friends to share them with. All of my good friends moved away, leaving the superficial bastard fucks of Erie, PA behind. And now I'm back, neck deep in the people who used to use me to build their scene popularity years ago.
I write everything in cursive that doesn't have "Please print" underneath it.
I envy my Christian friends sometimes because the reason why I turned away from religion is because I felt God abandoned me. ME! Of all people. And not them... these hypocritical bastards who go on tour and fuck girls half their age after drinking 5454376576 beers and doing drugs they don't even have names for yet. Fuck that.
I don't trust in God anymore. Every time I pay for something, I'm telling a lie. :-x
I'm so forgetful sometimes that I forget who I am. I'm ashamed of this fact.
I want to be done with being such an asshole.
My dog is my best friend in the entire world and he only likes me because I take him for walks so that he can shit in other people's yards. I don't pick it up either because my neighborhood is filled with douchebags. I would know, I'm one of them. And I tried picking it up with the plastic bags one time and it made me throw up.
I hope this was entertaining.
*NOTE TO SELF*
Burn this after you post it online so that your parents don't find it and see how fucking CRAZY you are.
Love,
-Daniel
Right now I'm in one of those moods where everything I see pisses me off. I have a package of pop tarts with a cartoon on them quoted saying:
"Wanna arm wrestle?"
No. I want to punch you in the face you stupid cartoon.
I wish that i could hide under my blankets and make time pass by faster. I want to end up on a day where my life doesn't feel like a complete wreck. Who the fuck knows when that'll be?
There's an empty box of valentines. I'm not even sure why. They're the kind that you give out to all the kids in class on Valentine's Day. I took one out and with a pen I wrote on it. There's a box of crayons on it and it says:
"You color my world. I love you"
At least that was what it said before I scratched words out and wrote them back in. Now it says "You ruined my world. I hate you." The crayon box has a blackened eye and is missing some teeth and is frowning.
My Zune is full of happy, lovey music that you think would cheer me up. Nope. It just makes me crave more cigarettes and want to put a fucking hole in the wall with my fist. And I need to conserve cigarettes. So I'm listening to Throwdown, eating pop tarts and drinking a bottle of Vitamin Water. How wholesome?!
I couldn't just write a book on heartache. I could write an entire fucking series.
I'm done with being hurt by her. I should be happy. But why the aggression? Why can't I stop thinking about it?
I wish a ninja would break into my house in the middle of the night and kill me when I was either sleeping or at unawares. This would fulfill my lifelong desire to meet a real life ninja. Wouldn't that be neat? Just like taking a ride on the Universal Tour, but through a goddamn Jackie Chan film.
What's funny is I have a television in my room that I'm pretty sure I'll never use. My parents always come downstairs and ask me to turn down my music though on my stereo and I don't think it's nearly loud enough. I need better headphones or something and then I will be FREE!
I'm writing this on a series of post-it notes, so some of this might be out of the order that I wrote it. Not that it matters. It's all random bullshit squabbling. I need to stop being so cheap and actually invest what... like three dollars into a legitimate real life notebook. Because fuck this.
All of my clothes smell like cigarettes and I haven't worn most of them since I washed them. I don't know how that works when I smoke outside.
(I wrote something here but I scratched it out. Something sexual and crude more than likely but I can't read it).
Scratch that.
I hate love. What a paradox.
Fucking. Stupid. Shit.
And people wonder why I don't trust anyone anymore. I should just make a note to walk around people when I meet them before I open up to them to see what they're hiding behind their back.
I really do want the world around me to burn to the ground so that I can start from scratch.
As long as I have my pop tarts, my Vitamin Water, my cigarettes and my friend: The Box of Tough As Fuck Crayolas.
I regret not numbering these little sticky notes. So far I have about eight or nine of them. Yes, I write small. And yes, you probably can't read it. Right now as long as you get the point, I could give a fuck less about fluidity. And just so you all know, everything I write that isn't typed is in fucking cursive. It's even hard for me to read, let alone anyone else.
I want to scuba dive and make friends with all of the ugly fish. Then I want to fillet and eat the ones who aren't ugly because I am NOT eating an ugly fish.
Time time time.
I haven't set my clock forward. I don't want to get up either. Damn me and my snooze button hitting tendencies. I put the clock across the room to prevent that. Now I'm going to pass out and wake up an hour late for work.
(Which I did the next morning, hahaha!).
I REALLY want to watch Pulp Fiction.
I also really hate talking about myself but no one gives me anything interesting to talk about anymore. And fuck having life experiences when you don't have friends to share them with. All of my good friends moved away, leaving the superficial bastard fucks of Erie, PA behind. And now I'm back, neck deep in the people who used to use me to build their scene popularity years ago.
I write everything in cursive that doesn't have "Please print" underneath it.
I envy my Christian friends sometimes because the reason why I turned away from religion is because I felt God abandoned me. ME! Of all people. And not them... these hypocritical bastards who go on tour and fuck girls half their age after drinking 5454376576 beers and doing drugs they don't even have names for yet. Fuck that.
I don't trust in God anymore. Every time I pay for something, I'm telling a lie. :-x
I'm so forgetful sometimes that I forget who I am. I'm ashamed of this fact.
I want to be done with being such an asshole.
My dog is my best friend in the entire world and he only likes me because I take him for walks so that he can shit in other people's yards. I don't pick it up either because my neighborhood is filled with douchebags. I would know, I'm one of them. And I tried picking it up with the plastic bags one time and it made me throw up.
I hope this was entertaining.
*NOTE TO SELF*
Burn this after you post it online so that your parents don't find it and see how fucking CRAZY you are.
Love,
-Daniel
Sunday, March 8, 2009
03082009B
I'm tired of giving my heart to people who don't deserve it. I'm done... with everyone on a romantic level at least for a little bit. And I'm not going to go back to the girl who has my heart right now. I'm taking that shit back and reserving it for someone who isn't going to fuck me over around every corner.
I'm so sick of empty girls. That's all I meet anymore. That's all I run into. That's all I find myself getting involved with anymore. I should be gay, but unfortunately my mind doesn't work that way. Women (some) just are too beautiful and alluring to me. I think that could be why they seem to have the most dramatic and overly destructive effect on me.
Sirens.
Harpies.
I hope you slip in the shower and crack your head open on the tub and bleed everywhere. I hope you have a goddamn concussion.
I'm so sick of empty girls. That's all I meet anymore. That's all I run into. That's all I find myself getting involved with anymore. I should be gay, but unfortunately my mind doesn't work that way. Women (some) just are too beautiful and alluring to me. I think that could be why they seem to have the most dramatic and overly destructive effect on me.
Sirens.
Harpies.
I hope you slip in the shower and crack your head open on the tub and bleed everywhere. I hope you have a goddamn concussion.
03082009A
I am in love with and am completely addicted to Vitamin Water. And any music that has anything to do with the singer Travis Bryant (who has the voice of an angel).
Check this out:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ffGU3ag00XI
But I seriously can't stop drinking this shit. I went to the store and I had a few bucks and I could have either gotten a bunch of Vitamin Water or a pack of cigarettes, and I bought the Vitamin Water. Someday, whoever makes this stuff is going to rule the world.
I just put a post up earlier today but I felt the need to write some more. So deal with it you fucks.
So anyways I'm sitting here drinking my elixer of life and listening to the band Terminal. I've had nothing to do all day.
(Oh, FUCK YOU. You know who you are).
Anyways...
Getting off topic...
Vitamin water... this shit could give me cancer (like cigarettes do) and I wouldn't care. I hope it DOES give me cancer.
There is nothing to do. No one to talk to online. My penis apparently is small according to someone who has never seen it anymore. I'm a loser with no friends and a bad attitude. I was homeless not too long ago. I'm a whore even though I've only had sex with how many people. TWO. Count them:
1,
2.
I lied. I have friends. I have problems. My penis isn't small. I haven't been drinking very much lately THANK GOD because I've been needing to cut back for some time. I do have a bad attitude. I don't know why I'm telling you this.
People who I don't find interesting talk to me on a day to day basis and I wish they would just fucking stop.
I need a camera to do photography.
I also need more Vitamin Water.
I haven't had sex in over three months. Maybe I'll make it to and year and be a self-proclaimed "re-born virgin" or whatever the fuck girls say they are when they haven't fucked in over a year (either because they're prudes or I don't know). Sex isn't important to me. Never has been, never will be. I don't care.
I don't need to stick my dick into someone to be happy.
I don't need a girlfriend to make me happy.
I have alcohol for that. Maybe that's why lately I've been such a crabby son-of-a-bitch. I might convert back to being an alcoholic and as long as I can sleep better at night not feel TOO guilty for it.
Check this out:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ffGU3ag00XI
But I seriously can't stop drinking this shit. I went to the store and I had a few bucks and I could have either gotten a bunch of Vitamin Water or a pack of cigarettes, and I bought the Vitamin Water. Someday, whoever makes this stuff is going to rule the world.
I just put a post up earlier today but I felt the need to write some more. So deal with it you fucks.
So anyways I'm sitting here drinking my elixer of life and listening to the band Terminal. I've had nothing to do all day.
(Oh, FUCK YOU. You know who you are).
Anyways...
Getting off topic...
Vitamin water... this shit could give me cancer (like cigarettes do) and I wouldn't care. I hope it DOES give me cancer.
There is nothing to do. No one to talk to online. My penis apparently is small according to someone who has never seen it anymore. I'm a loser with no friends and a bad attitude. I was homeless not too long ago. I'm a whore even though I've only had sex with how many people. TWO. Count them:
1,
2.
I lied. I have friends. I have problems. My penis isn't small. I haven't been drinking very much lately THANK GOD because I've been needing to cut back for some time. I do have a bad attitude. I don't know why I'm telling you this.
People who I don't find interesting talk to me on a day to day basis and I wish they would just fucking stop.
I need a camera to do photography.
I also need more Vitamin Water.
I haven't had sex in over three months. Maybe I'll make it to and year and be a self-proclaimed "re-born virgin" or whatever the fuck girls say they are when they haven't fucked in over a year (either because they're prudes or I don't know). Sex isn't important to me. Never has been, never will be. I don't care.
I don't need to stick my dick into someone to be happy.
I don't need a girlfriend to make me happy.
I have alcohol for that. Maybe that's why lately I've been such a crabby son-of-a-bitch. I might convert back to being an alcoholic and as long as I can sleep better at night not feel TOO guilty for it.
03082009
I decided that I'm going to start writing more. Not just poetry (which can be found on my Myspace page @ http://www.myspace.com/anditchanges). So I'm going to be using this more I suppose. Just an introductory...
I had this idea when I woke up that I am a traveling door-to-door salesman. Not literally. I'm just some asshole you see walking along your street and you duck in your living room behind the couches so I don't come to your door. I even SAW you closing your blinds. I know you're there. But I avoid you anyways.
And then there are the regulars on the street who know me and talk to me every day. They ask me how I'm doing, invite me in for cookies and milk, let me pet their dog. Some of them even know me for my personal life and ask me things like:
"How's that girl you were talking to?" I'd reply with something like "What girl?" And then they'd say "You know! The real pretty one with the short hair and the long legs." And I'd be like... "Oh her... uhhh I guess she's alright."
Some of my regulars would tell me I smoke too much. That I drink too much. That I seem lonely. They'd buy things from me out of pity, but I suppose I could just ask for the money and they'd just give it to me anyways. I'm selling my own pathetic, pitiful self to these people, not asking for hand outs though. So I'd open my briefcase, soaked from the rain and falling apart and reach in and pull out a poetry book that I spent maybe two weeks on at the most (because I have so many vices to write about that two weeks is all it takes to write about them). I'd take their five bucks and put it in my pocket and they'd tell me to go get something to eat with that money because it doesn't look like I've eaten for days.
And then that poetry book that I sold to them would sit on their bookshelf and collect dust. They'd read maybe the first couple of chapters but it's nothing these people can't already figure out about me. Sometimes I hate the fact that I wear my heart on my sleeve.
In all reality I DO smoke too much. At some point within every hour of every day I'm filling my lungs with smoke and plotting my own demise. For some reason the thought of death, not even a painful one from something like lung cancer, doesn't cross my mind enough. I'm not terrified of what's going to happen. I'm terrified of what HAS happened and what IS happening. I suppose when I'm on my deathbed I'll be a little concerned but right now I'm not necessarily worried. Right now, if something comes up that isn't part of my everyday stupid fucking bullshit routine and it's not an improvement upon anything, I find myself chain-smoking to calm down.
This involves that pretty girl with the long legs and short hair and I getting into verbal conflicts.
This involves a member of my family being diagnosed with a disease that's going to catch up to me.
This involves my occasional case of writers block.
Anything like that.
I've also been thinking about how when I was younger I was so fascinated with dinosaurs. I think that what that taught me as a grown up is how to not be able to let things of the past that are dead and gone and rotting in the ground go. I think of people even who I was close to that passed away and I STILL can't believe they're gone and in some cases it's been years.
I had this idea when I woke up that I am a traveling door-to-door salesman. Not literally. I'm just some asshole you see walking along your street and you duck in your living room behind the couches so I don't come to your door. I even SAW you closing your blinds. I know you're there. But I avoid you anyways.
And then there are the regulars on the street who know me and talk to me every day. They ask me how I'm doing, invite me in for cookies and milk, let me pet their dog. Some of them even know me for my personal life and ask me things like:
"How's that girl you were talking to?" I'd reply with something like "What girl?" And then they'd say "You know! The real pretty one with the short hair and the long legs." And I'd be like... "Oh her... uhhh I guess she's alright."
Some of my regulars would tell me I smoke too much. That I drink too much. That I seem lonely. They'd buy things from me out of pity, but I suppose I could just ask for the money and they'd just give it to me anyways. I'm selling my own pathetic, pitiful self to these people, not asking for hand outs though. So I'd open my briefcase, soaked from the rain and falling apart and reach in and pull out a poetry book that I spent maybe two weeks on at the most (because I have so many vices to write about that two weeks is all it takes to write about them). I'd take their five bucks and put it in my pocket and they'd tell me to go get something to eat with that money because it doesn't look like I've eaten for days.
And then that poetry book that I sold to them would sit on their bookshelf and collect dust. They'd read maybe the first couple of chapters but it's nothing these people can't already figure out about me. Sometimes I hate the fact that I wear my heart on my sleeve.
In all reality I DO smoke too much. At some point within every hour of every day I'm filling my lungs with smoke and plotting my own demise. For some reason the thought of death, not even a painful one from something like lung cancer, doesn't cross my mind enough. I'm not terrified of what's going to happen. I'm terrified of what HAS happened and what IS happening. I suppose when I'm on my deathbed I'll be a little concerned but right now I'm not necessarily worried. Right now, if something comes up that isn't part of my everyday stupid fucking bullshit routine and it's not an improvement upon anything, I find myself chain-smoking to calm down.
This involves that pretty girl with the long legs and short hair and I getting into verbal conflicts.
This involves a member of my family being diagnosed with a disease that's going to catch up to me.
This involves my occasional case of writers block.
Anything like that.
I've also been thinking about how when I was younger I was so fascinated with dinosaurs. I think that what that taught me as a grown up is how to not be able to let things of the past that are dead and gone and rotting in the ground go. I think of people even who I was close to that passed away and I STILL can't believe they're gone and in some cases it's been years.
I'm going to be deaf by the time I'm 55. I'll still be as much of an asshole as I am now. And I won't have any friends.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)