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The sad things a lonely mind dwells on

-I enjoy sleeping prone, always have. At least for as long as I can remember. While I was dating M I would lay like that for hours and hours due to the fact that my social life went out the window and all I had to entertain me was my giant collection of movies. Scratch that, my old, giant collection of movies. I’ve gotten rid of a vast majority of that shit. “As an adult, I put away childish things.” Or however that quote real. And the internet comes through, didn’t realizes it was 1st Corinthians 13:11 though. The quote is translated many different ways, but it boils down to basically the same thing, here’s the English Standard Version: “When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways.” My constant movie watching was me as a child, the way I look at it. Now that I’ve dedicated my life to being a writer, I am an adult. Come poverty or fame. It may not be what everyone in the world considers “adulthood”, especially around here, but I am an adult. Like I was saying, I sleep prone, and during my time with M, I would sleep prone with my head facing the right. Facing the TV. This has caused my head to tilt to the right easier, I can move my neck to the right easier, and everything I do has a sort of right twist to it. If that makes sense. I’ve recently started to rectify this by sleeping in the same position but with my head facing to the left. Which is how I sleep every night now. It hurt my neck for the first week or so, but now I’m comfortable. But every once in a while, due to insomnia, at least that’s what L said it was, and I believe her because her brother has the same problems that I do and he’s a diagnosed insomniac, I wake up and toss and turn and then fall back to sleep. Sometimes going from left facing to right facing. Here’s what I don’t get. ALL night, while I was sleeping to the left, with my right hemisphere laying on the pillow, I had a continuous dream about K. A girl I have/had a crush on for a while. But when I turn to my right, with my left hemisphere laying on the pillow, I dream of T, another girl I have/had a crush on for a while. How does that work? Also, I’m kind of glad I know a few girls with the same first letter to their name. This way it’s not so obvious when more people than maybe 1-2 people from facebook read this. But still, it makes me wonder. Does one half of me want one and the other want the other? How does that work? Am I halved down the middle like a schizo? One side longing and dreaming for one outcome to their life while the other longs and dreams for a completely different outcome to their life? I wish I understood the brain and the psyche better than I already do, but I don’t think they’ve every delved into something like this. But the history of humanity is long, relatively, so they might have at some point and I just grow bored reading textbook type non-fiction that I haven’t found it yet. -Why does it seem that people in this town are pandering to me? People I barely know. It’s quite annoying in such a way that I can’t even bring myself to explain it in words besides how I’ve already done so. -I love the outro to “That Power” by Childish Gambino: This is on a bus back from camp. I’m thirteen and so are you. Before I left for camp I imagined it would be me and three or four other dudes I hadn’t met yet, running around all summer, getting into trouble. It turned out it would be me and just one girl. That’s you. And we’re still at camp as long as we’re on the bus and not at the pickup point where our parents would be waiting for us. We’re still wearing our orange camp T-shirt. We still smell like pine needles. I like you and you like me and I more-than-like you, but I don’t know if you do or don’t more-than-like me. You’ve never said, so I haven’t been saying anything all summer, content to enjoy the small miracle of a girl choosing to talk to me and choosing to do so again the next day and so on. A girl who’s smart and funny and who, if I say something dumb for a laugh, is willing to say something two or three times as dumb to make me laugh, but who also gets weird and wise sometimes in a way I could never be. A girl who reads books that no one’s assigned to her, whose curly brown hair has a line running through it from where she put a tie to hold it up while it was still wet

Back in the real world we don’t go to the same school, and unless one of our families moves to a dramatically different neighborhood, we won’t go to the same high school. So, this is kind of it for us. Unless I say something. And it might especially be it for us if I actually do say something. The sun’s gone down and the bus is quiet. A lot of kids are asleep. We’re talking in whispers about a tree we saw at a rest stop that looks like a kid we know. And then I’m like, “Can I tell you something?” And all of a sudden I’m telling you. And I keep telling you and it all comes out of me and it keeps coming and your face is there and gone and there and gone as we pass underneath the orange lamps that line the sides of the highway. And there’s no expression on it. And I think just after a point I’m just talking to lengthen the time where we live in a world where you haven’t said “yes” or “no” yet. And regrettably I end up using the word “destiny.” I don’t remember in what context. Doesn’t matter. Before long I’m out of stuff to say and you smile and say, “Okay.” I don’t know exactly what you mean by it, but it seems vaguely positive and I would leave in order not to spoil the moment, but there’s nowhere to go because we’re are on a bus. So I pretend like I’m asleep and before long, I really am

I wake up, the bus isn’t moving anymore. The domed lights that line the center aisle are all on. I turn and you’re not there. Then again a lot of kids aren’t in their seats anymore. We’re parked at the pick-up point, which is in the parking lot of a Methodist church. The bus is half empty. You might be in your dad’s car by now, your bags and things piled high in the trunk. The girls in the back of the bus are shrieking and laughing and taking their sweet time disembarking as I swing my legs out into the aisle to get up off the bus, just as one of them reaches my row. It used to be our row, on our way off. It’s Michelle, a girl who got suspended from third grade for a week after throwing rocks at my head. Adolescence is doing her a ton of favors body-wise. She stops and looks down at me. And her head is blasted from behind by the dome light, so I can’t really see her face, but I can see her smile. And she says one word: “destiny.” Then her and the girls clogging the aisles behind her all laugh and then she turns and leads them off the bus. I didn’t know you were friends with them

I find my dad in the parking lot. He drives me back to our house and camp is over. So is summer, even though there’s two weeks until school starts. This isn’t a story about how girls are evil or how love is bad, this is a story about how I learned something and I’m not saying this thing is true or not, I’m just saying it’s what I learned. I told you something. It was just for you and you told everybody. So I learned cut out the middle man, make it all for everybody, always. Everybody can’t turn around and tell everybody, everybody already knows, I told them. But this means there isn’t a place in my life for you or someone like you. Is it sad? Sure. But it’s a sadness I chose. I wish I could say this was a story about how I got on the bus a boy and got off a man more cynical, hardened, and mature and shit. But that’s not true. The truth is I got on the bus a boy. And I never got off the bus. I still haven’t.

-For the second time since I’ve gotten back to Lowville, the same librarian has mentioned the movie It’s a Wonderful Life to me. What the fuck GC? Don’t you know I don’t give a flying fuck about this town or the inhabitants of it because they’ve been the cause of all of my woes in the past 10 years? No, because you don’t care. You just want me to become what you want me to become not caring about what I want. Fucking God Complexes are destroying our world.

-Also, what the fucks up with more and more people trying to figure out where and how I download movies/shows/music/etc.?

My brother keeps asking over the phone, the last time he was on speaker phone cuz it was “easier”, and just now the same librarian from ^ inquired about how to download it online. Doesn’t anyone know how to Google anymore. Why am I their go-to on figuring things out? Why not take the initiative and figure it out on your own? You know, like I’ve done my entire life.

-Random thought I just had: If sleeping naked means that you are comfortable with yourself sexually, or just comfortable with who you are as a person. Then what does that say about the millions upon millions of people who fall asleep every night wearing pajamas? Even if it’s just pajama pants, you’re still sleeping in clothing, which means you’re not comfortable with yourself.

Just a thought.

-Paranoia setting in over a series of events that happened tonight. Get a call from B, again, asking if I want to smoke with him. This kid seriously needs a hobby or to find something to do other than sitting around all day and smoking weed and watching the child. Anyways, while I’m texting with this girl, D, he calls me up and asks if I want to smoke an “inspirational joint” with him. Why use the word inspirational? What’s the point of that? Unless there’s an ulterior motive the powers at be made the joint for. I decline due to my cutting down, and yet he persists. And now I’ve found out that this girl, D, who has a kid, doesn’t want to take things slow. At least to an extent. Completely going against everything I’ve ever thought about when it came to women with children. I was willing, and able, to take things slow. We get to know each other, then if the stars align, bump uglies like a couple of teenagers. Well at least one of us, because I still have the libido of a teenager, being able to go 2-3 times in a single day, sometimes only half to a full hour in between each. No, I’m not bragging, because according to T. When her and her baby’s daddy were having sex he apparently went 8 times in a row. Although I’m starting to think she was trying to make me jealous or something because at the time she started dating him she might have been into the idea of me and her getting together. Dunno, can’t think about it or else I’d just get into a funk thinking about the past and all the girls I could have dated or fucked before I moved away. My last count was over 10, with proper knowledge of social cues that I didn’t and still don’t have…to an extent. Now I’m talking to her, and describing what I would do to her in a sexual sense and I think I might have screwed up because whenever you have to ask how good you’re doing, you instantly fail. Right? I don’t know. That part of a man’s life when he learns all about girls, and their subtle cues, and the proper way to hit on them in a digital age, I missed because I didn’t have internet or a cell phone the majority of my high school/post-high school career and when I was in my “prime” I decided to date a girl who ended up killing my social skills back down to zero due to her own poor self-image thanks to her father. “You’re in high school again.” – Kurt Cobain Why can’t I just walk around with a jacket covered in praising quotes to my sexual prowess from all of the few girls I’ve dipped my wick in? Like how the dust jacket of a book has praising quotes that give people an idea as to how good of a read they’re going to get into. “I saw nebulas!” “You’re the greatest lover I’ve ever had.” “8/10” I’d ask the other 2 girls I’ve had sex with, one-night stand notwithstanding, but eh, who needs their comments on stuff they probably don’t remember seeing as how it was so many years ago. But now that I’m talking to this girl in this fashion, I’m starting to really question B’s choice of words concerning smoking. Or could it do with the fact that the powers that be want me to finish my book, well at least one of them. Or to practice writing like I did last night by novelizing a comic book. I don’t know, that’s why they call it paranoia…..well not really, but it does bring forth a shit ton of questions involving a single incident or a series of incidents.

#1st Corinthians #past me would hate where current me ended up #changing sleep patterns expecting a result #facebook #is it pandering?#that power #childish gambino #lowville #its a wonderful life #god complex #google #i make a lot of grammatical errors that go unnoticed by the spell check software #too bad i'm too lazy to fix it #this tag was so good i decided to use it as the title #kurt cobain

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-“Your friends are afraid of you getting healthy. They want to keep you sick.” – Chuck Hogan “Prince of Thieves” Today was a perfect example of this because I went over to B’s house and he kept trying to get me to smoke weed or eat food. I’m introvert, getting a conversation started doesn’t work when stoned, especially when the high mellows me out. Sober I was talking a bit, but after a few minutes of being stoned I ended up staring off into space, staying inside my head more than outside of it. What I want to understand is the fact that B got a text, just when the baby woke up. After that happened he went out and grabbed her and brought her to the door and stood there adding to the fact of a lot of other things I was noticing as my paranoid delusion (?). I’m starting to think that’s not the case anymore. B definitely needs to find a few hobbies. All he does is smokes, watches the baby, work, and makes random weapons to attack the guy who keeps trying to break in. I’ve heard of a single time it happen, dude hit the breaker and then walked in. Which is stupid because then you automatically put everyone in the place on alert. Rookie mistake. And there was nothing the dude was going to do anyways because this is fucking Lowville. Most you’ve gotta worry about here is sad people stealing drugs from each other. There have been no recorded, to my knowledge, home invasions that resulted in a person being attacked or killed or even happening ANYWHERE outside of camps, out in the woods, and boonies. “Dumb” comes to my mind. A song by Nirvana about pretending to be simple because people expect that of you, and instead of having to explain it continually to confused and ignorant minds is to tiring. Read this shit if you want to know me. The real me. The one that I show no one sides the people who actually care to find out. Something like that, it’s kind of iffy when it comes to parents. But that’s cuz of both parent and the issues I have with both. Still. But that’s enough of this, I wanted to practice writing by novelizing comic books. It stretches my descriptive muscle. -Why did dad turn off the television after it became apparent I wasn’t going to stop writing? I know he’s been reading more often now, but he normally keeps the thing on all day it sometimes seems regardless. Choosing to read a lot in the morning, and then turning on the television while and after he eats. Days off at least. Days he works it’s the same except the reading is left for afternoon before passing out and then the television comes on after his nap. Skipping breakfast entirely. I feel like having a s’mores pop-tart. Why would it be incorrect grammar to put an “a” in front of an “s”. Because when you say the letter “s” the sound starts off with an “e” sound. But how come it’s that way when saying s’mores? S’mores starts out with a “ssss” sound. There it is again. Maybe you’re SUPPOSED to put an “an” before any “s’s” in Microsoft Words programming. Still want a pop-tart though. Wash it down with half a bottle of water and then get back to the scene I was beginning to transcribe. I kind of used that word right. -Planet Earth’s got me wondering. Would the seafood that lives on the ocean floor be considered a delicacy or poison? I would imagine it would probably taste pretty bad seeing as how their diets consist of the scraps of other animals and bacteria. Don’t good food, when an animal, taste better when it eats good food for it? I don’t know how animal farmers do it, but it’s something that makes me wonder.

#prince of thieves #chuck hogan #lowville #dumb #nirvana #pop tarts #planet earth #i know now the rules of grammar I question

-My lack of caring about the people of Podunk New York or any friendliness towards any of the librarians has caused them to block the availability of any Wi-Fi connection. At least any connection to my laptop. It’s either that or they still think I’m using their internet to download shit. Or they didn’t like the fact that I was staying secretive given their attempts to keep an eye on my internet activity. Or the fact that the last time someone was looking over my shoulder doing something I wrote a little message to them telling them they shouldn’t do such a thing anymore. -And just like almost every other time I’ve had internet problems due to one thing or another, I write about it and the problem seems to rectify itself. As if by magic. Let’s see how long this one lasts. -Barely logged into SNHU before the internet cut out on me again. -On a side note, don’t attempt to guess what the temperature will be like outside based on the temperature inside, especially when the weather is changing from fall to winter. I put on a sleeveless t-shirt, a regular t-shirt, my long sleeve “matrix” shirt, a thin sweater, a cardigan, and my red sox hoodie. Needless to say my torso is glistening. But I stand by my decision and will continue to wear all of these items of clothing unless I start sweating profusely, but I’ve found that if I slow down when I walk, a problem I’ve had for years, than I don’t exert as much energy, thus sweat a lot less. That’s even when I’m carrying groceries from tops to the house. As long as I keep it a relatively light load then I’m fine. -3 weeks was how long it took for me to go from being excited about my course to growing annoyed and pissed about the amount of bullshit that needs to go into a paper that won’t be looked at or cared about a week after I write it. They want 8 primary or secondary sources to support my thesis about how Christianity stole a lot of its stories from previously believed “pagan” myths. They’re going to get, maybe, 4. I don’t follow rules, now or ever. Nor will I start any time soon. Especially when it’s for classes that don’t, directly, have anything to do with my chosen career. Yes, I’m learning about myths, but I would still learn a majority of what I’m learning just by reading the textbook, which I’m doing sporadically for fun. -Melancholy – n. 1. A gloomy state of mind; dejection. Adj. 2. Affected with melancholy; depressed. 3. Causing melancholy. Why am I defining this word; probably not for the first time since starting this? I was fine, at least I feel as though I was fine while I was at the library. Maybe what the woman I called at the suicide hotline in Worcester told me, I’m feeling down because I’m not doing what I should be doing. I.E. working on this week’s school work. That could be the case. Or it could be because L added my dad on facebook but didn’t add me. Why would you add my dad but not me, well I can understand not adding me, but why add my dad? I want to believe it’s because you still love me to an extent cuz you never met him. Add my brother? I understand that, you guys got a long when you met that one time….unfortunately NMom ruined that week, thanks bitch. But why dad? Maybe I’m melancholy because ever since finding out you sent him a friend request I started letting my imagination get the best of me and started deluding myself into thinking that you would take up my offer of getting out of the city for a little bit on thanksgiving. The closer it comes to getting my next student loan the slower each day seems to be going for me. I just want internet here so I can do everything easier and quicker. Such as school work. This week I need to use internet resources. THAT’s easy when you have to walk to the library who has fucked up hours for some reason. Actually I know why, it’s because they don’t have a lot of money and they only have 4 or 5 different librarians and a small library. Maybe if this country cared about knowledge as much as it makes people think then this library would actually be worth getting books out of. I’d say there’s a 1/50 ratio of shitty books/series/religious texts compared to books that are actually interesting to read. I miss the Worcester library, but they would probably hate me at this point because I signed out less than 10 but more than 5 books and then skipped town. Including 1 or 2 I grabbed for L because I was a good boyfriend. Until I fucked up any possibility of reconciliation due to my lack of dignity when it came to her breaking it off with me. Maybe that’s why I’m melancholy. Last night I had a dream that she was at a bowling alley with a guy who is my definition of a “bro”. Straightened hair, visor cocked to the side, shirtless abs, skinny jeans hanging partially off his hips. You were happy with him, and all I could do was watch from the shadows and grow depressed. Which I then did by dragging my dad’s green chair into a little hovel that was in between the border of one place and another where I stayed until a random “normal” family came in because it was also a meeting place for reunions or something. Which they were having, or something along those lines. Like family fun day. Then my family, which included NMom, one of her ex’s from my childhood, and my brother invaded the area, right around the same time I was growing happy with the people around me, and eventually I got into a fight with NMom over her narcissistic tendencies and scolding her like a child and forcing her into the car my family was in. Clean up on aisle Freud. I want to drink. I want to take some money from my dad, like I used to, and go to the liquor store and buy a bottle and drown myself in it for the rest of the night. But I know if I do that nothing in this house will get done, especially anything on my list of things to do today. Which is the only way I can get things done, is if I make a list the night before. Maybe I’ll just let Lysander make me feel better. If I’m to destroy what destroys me than I should start with my own personal body because it and, by extension, my brain is destroying me with its many psychological problems and childhood hang ups. Postscript a few seconds later: In Worcester I was doing what I needed to do, albeit I was normally drunk all day or smoking all day, but I was doing my school work and writing more than I have in months. This was also the same time I was talking periodically with J at Santiago’s and sort of kind of fantasizing about C, the daughter of one of NMom’s friends, and also masturbating at least once, sometimes more than once, a day. It’s got to be the town. It’s got to be something. I’ll leave it to fate to decide my decision for me. Cuz I know I won't find a girl like J in Podunk, H2o maybe, but definitely not Podunk. Unless I go high school girls. Fuck. That. I’ve got some form of standards. Even if they are few. -I’ve left it up to fate and it says to do all of the above. Steal money for boozes and drown my sorrows in it, but also use Lysander on myself, but also finish off my list. I don’t know if I’ll be doing all of the list, but I will be doing the majority of what’s left on it. -I don’t edit this. These are thoughts straight from brain to fingertip to computer screen to tumblr. The only editing that happens is spell checking before saving. -Did the last 2 things on my list, what remains will most likely get pushed back to tomorrow due to the fact that I will NOT do my drawing for L while drunk as well working on my novelization of Afterlife of Archie 3, nor is it easy to read to the pre-designated spot in Darwinia (good book, check it out. S’about all of Europe being switched out for alien terrain and one photographers exploits with an expedition team to seek out the untapped terrain). As for taking a shower, who the fuck do I need to impress tonight? Anyways, I got a loan off of dad of 20 dollars so I could get a bottle as well as food for Schrodinger, which he’s running low on. Talked to M, I believe her name is that, at the liquor store. Then on the way home from DG I run into J, a guy I used to hang out with when I was chilling with people from Port Leyden a couple three years ago. I’m pretty sure, because I texted B earlier, they thought I wanted to get high tonight. And while I was looking to getting weed, I didn’t really plan nor feel like getting high at all. Being high doesn’t help with melancholy unless you don’t smoke as regularly as I used to, then it’s euphoric. Which is what I’m trying to get back to. I’m 99% sure if I would have asked he would have smoked me up. But like I said, that’s not why I texted B. I texted him because I was 80% sure he would have traded me a bag of dope for what remains of my pack of Parliaments. As a cigarette smoker, there is no better cigarette. The filter is recessed to help with the light’s aspect of them as well as having a hard filter. Unlike all other cigarettes, so when you snub it out it doesn’t bend and threaten to burn your fingertips. I got into them when my dad smoked them for a short time back years ago, and when I was smoking they always had a buy 2 get one free promotion going on. Or buy one get 2 free, but I’m pretty sure it was the former. In the coming days I’m going to attempt to sell my halfish pack of cigs, and 2 of my bowls. Bumblebee, which is a regular bowl with a nice and deep bowl head, as well as Bilbo, my Sherlock that looks more like a Shire pipe than anything. All of which will be for sale for either cash or its equivalent in weed or other types of drugs that I might come across. Fingers crossed for shrooms, mescaline, or lsd. But I’ll settle for just weed. Speaking of drugs, I think I’m gonna take one of those small muscle relaxers I stole from NMom and chase it with vodka. Get proper fucked up tonight. I remember how fucked I was the one time in Worcester me and L combined the two. -“just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean they’re not after you.” – Nirvana by way of Kurdt Cobain “Territorial Pissings. I’d double check the lyrics online, but I’ve got that lined up for the next album I’m going to listen to after Nevermind…..Enter the Wu-Tang/36 Chambers, one of the greatest rap albums since its introduction to the mainstream. Rap, not Wu-Tang. Why do I confuse it’s and its? It’s not that hard to get right. Also muscle relaxer is currently digesting and I’m 3 shots in. Feeling pretty good, can’t wait for that pill to work it’s way through my bloodstream until I’m thruroughly fucked up. See what I mean? -Drunk texted L based on the suggestion of fate, the soundtrack to that mistake goes to “Waiting for the End” by Linkin Park. Apparently it’s the “wrong number” and the guy, girl. I’m assuming guy due to the way he responded to the texts. But he “just got this number”. Sounds like bullshit to me, but I’m also smarter than any guy L can find in Worcester. If I’m wrong then chalk it up to assumptions by me due to the fact atht I haven’t had ANYONE challenge my intelligence in my entire life, and when they have they gave up WAY TO FUCKING QUICKLY to make me stay deluded to the fact that I’m smarter than a vast majority of the people I encounter. I only wanted to ask her if she didn’t love me anymore than why did she add my dad to her friends list on facebook. Just seems counterproductive, even if that’s the wrong word to use in this context I don’t care, you already know I’m schlizted. Lysander has yet to draw blood, so I’m dissapoointed at his bite tonight. But oh well, my left forearm has a burning sensation so who knows. I’m more of a blade cutter as posed t tip because I get more of what I want with the blade as opposed to the tip. The tip only jumps across my skin as opposed to cutting through it like the blade itself. Anyways, the person I suspect to be JJ, L’s new beau (could be wrong on ALL counts) is attempting the you got the wrong number bit, but do cell phones share the same numbers they give iPhone’s text messaging apps? I don’t know, I’ve been forced outside of the zeitgeist to many times in my life I don’t know anymore. And thanks to my dad I’m cynical towards anything too new, even though me personally is more open to new technology. Me myself is open to a lot fo what society throws at, being an early adaptor in spirit, the only problem with that is the fact that everyone I know, besides a select few, thinks I’m cynical to EVRYTHING, so I just let them think I’m cynical as opposed to changing just for them As they say, every seven years you lose half your friends. And I’m vastly more advanced in age due to my life of being cut off from society at large. So that means I’m probably 14 years+ ober EVERYONE I know in Podunk. -2 muscle elaxers in and I don’t know how mny (double) shot sin and I’m fucke, and up. I’m currently listenting to Nirvana, which is my new Linkin Park because they’re helpin me through my deression just like they did before I met L, and I’ve got double vision. I think L and JJ are pulling the I just ogt his number bit, bu I oculd bw ell off, all though I donlt hinks to because why would L get rid of her ONLY way to contact the ouside world as opoosed to skype, which she apparently doesn’t get on anymore. I find this all very suspicisous viven her nature as aperson and not wanting to be without internet for an extend ed period. L, if your going to ignore me because you thinlk I’m too affectionate now that were broken up GET BETTER AT IT, I’M STILL SMARTER DRUNK THAN YOU ARE SOBER No matter what you like to tell yourself, Althougth I could be COMMMMPPPPPELLEEEEELTELY OFFFFFFFFFFF, because I’m an ideion and weove already established this fact. My arms are on fire, more th elef the than right, but still. I have double vision because I took a second muscle relaxer mixed with vodka chased with dr. pepper. I think I’m going to to retire to watching to something after this laylist. Tiem will tell on how ecatlcy you want to handle what we had. You say oy u never felt this way about anyone and I know I haven’t felt this way about anyone other than you, so it’s easy to understand how I feel about this. But like I said, only time twill twelll about how you feel. I know my motif has been too little too late, but I do feel lke shit and am sorry about anything I’v etalked about or accused you of since you broke up with me suddnenly. But at the time I was still [psychologically unstable and now that I’m a little bit beter, I want to a[ooligize. Fuck I’m drunker than I thought I WAS…well fucked up is the better adjective(?) Either way, I’m not comprehensively writing what I want all the while as I write what I want. -yep, I’m definitely 6 kinds of fucked up. I cant even focus on an individual thing at this point. Good to know for furture reverence when I want to get surpremely fucked up due o my mood. I wonder what gabapentin will du wm==mixed with alcohol…only on eway to find out and that will come in the future. I don’t even know if I want to finish this playlist of nirvana amusice beause dinner is ready, steak and chesse sandwichiches. I’m leaning more towards the food as oppose dto the drug side effects. =s

#snhu #the matrix #tops market #world mythologies #christianity #paganism #melancholy #worcester #facebook #i should start reading more about dream interpretation #the girls and masturbation weren't related #tumblr #darwinia #afterlife of archie #parliaments

-After downing 375 mL of 100 proof Vodka last night all by my lonesome I’ve now decided to hold off on drinking again for a while. Well at least a week. -Has anyone else noticed how this new pope seems to be agreeing with ALL hot button church issues recently? Just now I’ve read he’s saying that the big bang was real as well as evolution, this is after he said that it’s ok to be gay. To me this just seems like the church trying to keep people from leaving. Too little too late comes to mind. -Ever since I texted you, giving you my dad’s cell number, I keep looking at my phone. Makes me feel like Doug in Prince of Thieves near the end. Picking up his hotel room’s phone every 5 minutes hoping for Claire to call him. Checking to see if it’s still working. Continually asking the front desk if they had any messages for him. I feel like a douche having lost you. Especially after the way I treated you after the break up. You made me walk on clouds with what you said. How I’m a great (amazing?) guy, but I’m also not a saint. I know I’m not a saint, but I want to be in your eyes. I want to be the guy you fell in love with again. -Ever since reading what you wrote earlier I’ve been slowly getting into a mood. One of those types where you are like a person on auto pilot. And just now, after finishing The Town, during Affleck’s final words to the chick who plays Claire, at the moment he said “I know I’ll see you again, this side or the other” my eyes started leaking and they keep leaking as I write this. Why do I have to love you so much? Why do I have to miss you so much? Why can’t I just move on? I told myself this morning that I was done cutting because I got a tad overzealous last night, and right now all I want to do is run Lysander’s blade across my skin and watch as the blood wells out. I could never go deeper than scratches, but if living means missing you this much I might start re-thinking that. Maybe it’s just so hard right now because I have no one who wants to help me out of my funk. I can’t do it alone. I just want my gingerbread cookie back.

#hungover #vodka #stupid mistake?#Prince of Thieves #remorseful words #the town #ben affleck #gingerbread cookie

-If anything ruins my Halloween I’m cracking skulls. I’ve got at least a pint of 100 proof Smirnoff Vodka, I’ve got a playlist of horror movies which includes, in order: Horns, Pontypool, The Omen (OG), Deliver Us from Evil, and Willow Creek. I’m planning on polishing off at least ¾ of the bottle myself, or at least until I run out of Mountain Dew chaser. Also a bonnie lass to talk to as I progressively get worse throughout the night. Who know what will happen there. I can hope, but seeing as how we’ve only been talking for a couple three days, I’m not expecting much. Just me drunkenly making an ass out of myself while we text throughout the night. The biggest annoyance is having to share a phone with your old man who only uses it for an hour…tops, every night to surf newzjunky and facebook. But yeah, if it gets ruined. Skulls. Cracking. You get the idea. -Horns. Loved the book. The author of it is Stephen Kings son, but you wouldn’t know it looking at his name. Picture, dead ringer for a King doppelganger. The movie, while some things are changed, is still very enjoyable. Especially because they left a lot of great scenes intact, verbatim, from the book. But other than the fact that Dolores Herbigg and Juno Temples titties are in it, it’s less a horror and more a comedy. Oh well, things you forget over time. -“You know what I wanna do? I wanna crush up some Oxycotin and have myself a little snort. You could join me, we’ll get fucked up together.” - Ig’s Doctor. -Where’s is my Mind? – The Pixies. Love this song EVERY TIME I hear it. -I wonder what it would feel like to carve into my torso…..only one way to find out. -Felt kind of good, but it doesn’t leave any blood trails. Unfortunate. You know? I should have started this sooner, because it’s starting to turn into an addiction of sorts. I actually did it sober for the first time today and I didn’t hesitate. Oh well, better late than never. -Since when did Heather Graham go from being a starring actress in movies to just second fiddle? Hangover, she played a stripper in 2 scenes. Horns, a waitress in the same amount of scenes. What happened to the sex pot from Austin Powers 2? Or the lead in Committed. Or am I the only person who actually knows that tiny bit of trivia? Probably, considering the many years I spent watching movies and seeking out new movies. She’s still attractive. I’d like to see her make a small comeback. Like a leading role that catapults her into the stratosphere from the fringe of A/B-list celebrities. -Of the 4-5 swipes I made to my stomach there are 3 raised lines with no puncture and 2 red lines without breaking the skin fully. I’m gonna keep it to my arms from now on, only way I can get the outcome I want and expect when I flit the edge of my ballisong across my skin. I’m thinking about calling it Lysander or Montezuma, both of which are names of black butterflies. I’m undecided because they’re both good names to give an all black ballisong knife. Better known as a butterfly knife. Lysander…….Montezuma….I’m actually leaning closer towards Lysander more than Montezuma. Maybe because of my (real) last name. I don’t know, just seems to fit it, her, better. That’s it. I’m calling it Lysander. “The name Lysander is a Greek baby name. In Greek the meaning of the name Lysander is: Liberator.” Yup, I’m calling my butterfly knife Lysander. Fits perfectly with what I’m using it for. Liberating my pain through cutting my skin open. Only pain I can control myself. -My tummy’s itchy, like when I cut into my thigh. Definitely leaving it to my arms unless I can find a better place to carve into in the future. -Scratch that, Heather Graham is in 3 scenes of Horns -Hearing Harry Potter say “fuck” and the like makes me want to watch through the Harry Potter series again, but my brother’s borrowing the whole series so I’ve gotta wait. As well as my collection of Boondock Saints dvds. -Stabbing at my stomach produces the effect I want, but I much prefer slicing as opposed to stabbing. -I kind of want to smoke a cigarette tonight. Against Ike’s wishes. Dwight E. Eisenhower=Ike=my dollar coin. Let’s see what he’s saying now that I’m more drunk then I was when I last flipped him. Ike says yes. Let’s see how this goes. Last few times I haven’t been able to even finish a single one. Maybe I have to force myself through the gross feeling it brings to my mouth and lungs. Personally, I much prefer weed. Smoother feeling and it tastes a HELL of a lot better. -Parliament next to Smirnoff Lighter at the ready. Will this be a different experience? Will this be the same? One way to find out Hesitation drives my hand Self-destruction pushes it forward. -My upper arm I more receptive to Lysander’s kiss. Also it’s hidden easier by my preferred choice in torso covering. I think I’ve found the opportune place to cut myself. Definitely felt….amazing. I’m glad I have a cat as a pet, because if anybody asks I can always say that I was playing to hard with Schroedinger. Schrodinger. However you want to spell it, either way is fine by me and, I’m assuming, by him. Although sometimes he’s Buddy or Irwin to me. Irwin was the first name of the man who created the theory of Schrodinger’s Box. The basis of the name for my special feline companion. The only downside of upper arm cutting is having to take off long sleeve shirts which I tend to wear a lt more now that it’s closer to winter than summer. -At the rate I’m drinking I’m going to have to cut down a couple of the movies in my playlist. First of which will be The Omen. Old school horror movies don’t have the scare factor that modern horror has. I think I’ll leave it at Horns, Deliver us from Evil, and Willow Creek. Mainly because I fucking LOVED Sinister (watch it, you WILL NOT regret it) and the same guy directed Deliver. As for Willow Creek, a found footage movie concerning Bigfoot, written and directed by Bobcat Goldthwait. The same guy who did God Bless America, another movie I HIGHLY RECOMMEND. I own the blu-ray and love every viewing I have of it. 3 is a good number. 3 is my favorite number. And when it’s joined with L’s favorite number 7, I just feel at ease. That’s why I felt like we were meant to be together. I loved the number 37 because of Clerks and my idolizing of Kevin Smith, the fact that her favorite number was 7 and mine was 3 just seemed right. I hope I haven’t screwed it up beyond the point of reconciliation at this point. My sober mind is vastly different from my under the influence state of mind, and if I’m drunk the true man comes out. Which tells you something. I think at least. Time for a cigarette. Maybe half now and half later. I don’t know. Let’s see how the first half goes. -I feel like a teenager again, spitting out the shitty taste of tobacco while also inhaling the cancer ridden smoke that comes forth from the cigarette. -Yep, only half because I let it burn to the point it gets to guttering itself out. Either way, I know now that I don’t like cigarettes sober. Drunken to a point, sure. But only in moderation. Pot does more than a cigarette has done for artists in the past. I guess I’m a part of the artists who use drugs and the like as a way to garner inspiration as opposed to using cigarettes, even though they say that cigarettes opens up pathways in the brain that normally wouldn’t be accessible to the sober mind. I can NOT wait until I start using psychotropics. Then I can open my mind to the world. And given the fact that I think the way I do sober, or stoned, I can’t wait until I open my mind to aspects of the universres I have yet to even come clse to comprehending. Does that make sense? I don’t care. Time for Deliver us from Evil. But first, I’ve gotta piss like a pregnant teenager, and maybe I’ll make up some food. Parcheese and noodles sounds pretty fucking appetizing right now. -Could Scott Derrikson’s movie be hinting at what all Illuminati controlled movies point at? Pro-military and reminding the populace of 9/11? I only say that because the first 2-5 minutes of the movie take place in Iraq. I didn’t realize it until recently, when reading a review of Gurardians of the Galaxy by a person not of America, when they said that it’s 3rd act climax resulted in a giant thing crashing into a building. When you think about it, name 1 movie, made by the MCU, that doesn’t involve the 3rd act finale containing a giant ship of sorts demolishing a building. Off the top of my head….Avengers. Captain America 2. Thor 2. Guardians of the Galaxy. I fucking hate this sub-conscious brainwashing of reminding the American populace that their own country orchestrated the biggest false-flag operation in the history of humanity. -Also, I’m pretty sure Jeff from Community, Joel McHale to the uninitiated, will die before the credits role on Deliver us from Evil. -I WANT to have the work out regime that the priest in Deliver us from Evil has. Minus the Catholicism, but we all know my thoughts on religion and forces beyond our recognition. At least I hope you do. -Leftovers from last night are quicker and easier than making parcheese and noodles, but because I specifically cleaned out a pot for that kind of meal, I know what I’m having for lunch tomorrow. Or brunch, depending on what time I wake up. Hopefully late because I hated waking up at 7 this morning. -Also. Parmesean cheese is the BEST cheese in the world. I have and can eat that shit straight out of the shaker. When you add it to a cheese based pasta dish, it makes it even better. Especially as a fan of that type of cheese drunk. Although it will ALWAYS take a back burner to extra sharp cheddar. That is the definitive best cheese in existence. -Yep. Given horror movie tropes, whenever they hire a regurlarly comedic actor against type. The character usually dies before the third act, and no matter how much Jeff’s character acts tough, he’s the comedic relief. I hope the death is graphic, because so far the movie isn’t as good as Sinister was. Although I watched that movie stoned or sober. Time will tell on this. -Is it a preresiqute of ALL NYC detectives to wear Yankee’s apparel while the guy trying to be different from everyone else wears Red Sox apparel? The only person not wearing officially liscenced baseball team apparel in this movie is Eric Bana. Who the fuck cares about either team? I know I don’t, but I also could care 2 shits about baseball because, as a sports. IT’S FUCKING BORING!!!! Please, I’m waiting for someone to prove me wrong on this. Although I’m a fan of futbol, which is pretty boring in and of itself, but whenever there’s a goal it makes it that much better. No steroid enhancement in that game of kings. Baseball, it seems almost everyone is juicing. At least everyone who hits the long ball. And this is coming from a guy who played baseball from childhood up until mid-teens. I KNOW how boring that game can be. Players sometimes sitting in their designated position for hours without anything happening and watching the rest of the game being played without moving, with the exception of hitting and moving from out of the field to the dugout. -When I see a drop of blood pooling on my snow white skin, I know that I went deep enough to make a good cut. This makes me happy now. It makes me feel content. As I say this my thumb started to itch, and what goes through my head is the following: “with the prickling of my thumb, something wicked this way comes.” -PLOT HOLE: after the possessed woman bites Eric Bana, the priest says that they should go get a drink. Then they show the 2 of them walking into a fire precinct, but then they’re in a fucking bar. Explain that one mother fuckers. Because I’m damn sure NO fire department has a fully functioning bar at their disposal in their firehouse. Because of that I call this movie SHIT. I’m weary now that the writer/director is doing Doctor Strange. SOMEONE sold their soul to the powers that be………i.e. ILLUMINATI. -Another red flag as to the fact that this is an illuminati controlled movie. The running theme of owls, their “power animal” of sorts. So far, the daughter has a stuffed animal that just happens to be an owl, which has showed up twice so far, and I know there’s at least one more scene involving that specific stuffed animal. And just now there was a close up shot of an owl looking towards camera. Prove that I’m wrong. I know I’m not as well hearsed in owl lore, but I’m pretty sure owls have nothing to do with exorcisms and the like. -Also if they wanted to truly prove that all these “based on true events” movies actually based on true events, why don’t they release the true camera footage, that is so prevelant within the movie, to the general populace. That’s like throwing money at the screen. Put up one of the clips from the actual true to life footage as the trailers to the movie and PEOPLE WILL THROW MONEY AT YOU. But they know a lot of the shit is bullshit and made up for the sake of “scares” so there isn’t any true footage or anything close to it. It’s reminding me of a story idea I had about a haunted house. Where what actually happened was a couple innoculous things, like cupboard doors being opened and items being moved, but in the movie version people get gutted and the house burns down at the end. Fuck Hollywood. But it’s also a love/hate relationship for me, because Hollywood is the weak link in the Illuminati armor. -Santino reminds me of the vampires in Blade 2. Hoodie, pale skin, kind of bloody around the facial area, and lurking around like a creeper. Minus the European accent. -At almost an hour and a half my prediction of Jeff dying came true. Fucking movies are becoming WAY too predictable. Come on Hollywood, you pussies are slipping. Specifically 1 hour and 24ish minutes into the movie he takes the back end of an axe to the chest, puncturing a major artery. Gone before any medical response team can show up, as per usual. -Why aren’t there any GOOD horror movies out now? At least from American directors. Everything that comes out now is waaaaaaay tooooo predictable. It’s either predictable in the sense that everything the writer or director does has been done before, but in a different sense of the fact, or else the entire thing is a cookie cutter thing. Also, how can a cop still be on the force after beating a man to death with his own hands? Real life that guy would be sentence to 40-life. In Deliver us from Evil, Eric Bana is a mother fucking seargant of the New York City Police Department. I feel as though there’s an underlying theme there. Stating that ALL cops are killers, and are celebrated for that fact. Goes to show you that the country is spinning around a toilet bowl and we’re drawing closer to the u-bend. Oh, look at that, scene three showing an owl front row center. You know the scene I’m talking about, the one with the ball shaped stuffed owl rolling towards the small child. It was in EVERY trailer since the teaser. Because that’s another illuminati red flag, children in danger, being saved at the last minute by the hero. That’s NOT real life. Real life, the child dies first. Just like in nature. Animals ALWAYS kill the child first, because other than old and crippled, they are the weakest being in the herd. Humans aren’t any different. We are ALL animals, under the guise of civility. -The overextension of the neck was a nice touch to the final half hour of the movie. Haven’t really seen it before, but too little too late comes to mind. This movie is shit in my opinion at this point. -Thoroughly disappointed by Deliver us from Evil, I DO NOT recommend it. Unless you’re completely at the will of the Illuminati’s influence. Please, Bobcat, don’t disappoint with you’re found footage movie involving the Bigfoot legend. My fingers are all crossed. Middle crossed with index, ring crossed with pinkie, and thumbs crossing each other. Just so you know, that what I mean when I say “All fingers are crossed”. For future reference. -As a PS to the above, Holy Shit! 6 pages without realizing it. I think I should write under the influence of something every time in the future when I write. I can not FUCKING WAIT until I’m sitting in front of this laptop while I’m tripping my balls off of shrooms/lsd/mescaline. I can’t wait to use any of those three psychotropic drugs, but I also can’t wait to experience and write and read about the experience. -Watching Willow Creek and the main characters, at least the 2 characters that start the film out, stop at a side of the road diner and eat something called a “Bigfoot Burger”. In my drunken state the sight of the burger made my mouth water, so I became curious. So I decide to Google the recipe to the burger. Guess what! GC sends my search inquiry back to the main screen of my dads phone. Now don’t get me wrong, GOOGLE sends me links to different websites. The second of which seemed the better of all links because it basically said Bigfoot Burger Recipe. But when I click the link it loads for about ¾ of the way to full loading, but it then sends me back to the phones home screen. Where the phone’s owner has all their favorite apps and such. I”ve done this run around 3-4 times now and EVERY TIME I’m sent back to the phone’s home screen. Tell me GC doesn’t have anything to do with this and I WILL beat you across the head with a tack hammer until I’m beating bits of pink into the floorboards. -The problem with rebounding after an amaxing relationship is the fact that you’re rebounding without any experience to the contrary. I have this girl. Cute. Shorter than me. Great body. Blonde. Hitting on everything I like, to an extent, other than the fact that we’re complete opposites in almost every aspect. She barely does ANYTHING outside of work and takin gcare of her child. She listens to country and the fucking Border for Christ sake. And if you know me, you KNOW I downright loathe anything having to do with the Border because all they play is shitty pop music, which only results in my ears bleeding. But I think I’ve sufficiently scared her away from ever thinking about going farther with myself at this point. As a side point, I’m speaking to L specifically. As opposed to you’re passive aggressive way of telling me you’ve found someone to make you happy after me, I’m telling you directly that I’ve met someone. I’m not saying that it will last, or that after a couple weeks me and her will still be talking. Although I’m pretty sure, if not for this sentence, you would find a reason to be pissed at me because I’ve “found” someone else, if the Brazilian chick is any indication as to you’re mood toward me finding new people to fill the gaping hole you made in me. Either way, I suck at hitting on girls who don’t know me personally. I suck at hitting on girls who know me personally. The only way I can make a connection with any girl, at all, is if she and I have sex and I make her realize that I’m amazing in the sack, and from that comes an ability to be comfortable with girls. I feel as though this may be a side effect of what I think might have happened when I was a small child. Or the fact that I took all my knowledge of “the birds and the bees” from porn because both of my parents were WAY TOOO LAZY to teach me and my brother the proper way of meeting a woman who will complete their lives. Instead of saying, and I quote: “You’ve heard everything you need to know from the (school) bus. We don’t need to tell you anything.” FUCKING LAZY PRICKS!!!! -3 shots away from polishing off just under a pint of 100 proof Vodka. Alcoholism FTW MOTHER FUCKERS!!!!!1!!!!!!!!! -According to IMDB, the movie Deliver us from Evil has NOTHING TO DO WITH anything the true to life detective Ralph Sarchie had to deal with since he started to deal with the paranormal. Fucking called it! -Apparently, Willow Creek has NO trivia in relation to its production. Oh well. That means the movie speaks for itself. Hopefully its better than Deliver us from Evil, because that was highly anticipated in my mind and it was a TOTAL LET DOWN. Again I do NOT recommend it to ANYONE. -That other half of my cigarette is looking pretty good to me right now. I might walk to Sunoco as I smoke it down to the filter as I get a fountain drink with the limited change I have at my disposal so I can chase away the last of my almost pint of Vodka. I may have enough in my can of Mountain Dew to polish off the bottle, but I truly enjoy walking to and from Sunoco while fully drunk in a small enough town where the cops care more about drivers as opposed to pedestrians at basically midnight. I just wish I remembered how much it was for a fountain drink at Sunoco. -Either the girl I don’t want to bring up is freaked out by my rebound nature mixed with inexperience with women or she’s literally passed out, but at this moment I’ve only got Bobcat Goldthwait’s horrow movie to preoccupy me with. And holy shit! is it doing better than Scott Derrickson’s studio schlock film that bored me. -This is me saying this movie is waaaaaaaaaay better than the last one based off of only 3 MINUTES of 2 people in a tent freaking out over unexplainable sounds in a dark forest. COME ON!!!!!!!!!! I can NOT wait to own a PS3 so I can watch God Bless America again, because that movie was fucking genius, and it came into my life at the right time to concede with my thought with the Americanization of the world. -Why is there always blood attached to any hair evidence people pull from whatever? I understand the aspect of the stupid movie goer, but ENOUGH with the beating the (stupid) person over the head with the exposition. Although, there have been worse. My favorite example is Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. Let me say this now. Because of Kev Smith’s show (now filmed for Canadians) Spoilers, I sought out the book, and I thoroughly enjoyed every page of it but at the end when John McClaine’s daughter pulled…..actually the entire ending of that movie was exposition to the retarded percentage of Americans. That shit pissed me off, and made me dismiss the entire movie as bullshit schlock made for the dumb populace who’ve lead their lives according to what other people tell them to think. As opposed to using their own brains and THINKING FOR THEMSELVES. I fucking HATE puppets/sheep/sheeple. They are going with what is indoctrinated into their psyche and they are perpetuating the toilet bowl that is our country/world. I used to say 50 years, but it’s less so at this point. 30 years is my best guess. By the time I’m a grandfather (or the age of a normal sheeple grandfather) our country will be in the U-bend and there will be more criminals than respectable citizens. Mark my words, because your children will be perpetuating the same shit you failed to stop. Congratulations ya’ fucking cunts. -I think I shall go take a piss and grab a soda. -Willow Creek had a LOT less action then I was expecting. The finale involved a weird ass naked lady killing the main leads. I’ve got to see this movie sober. Because the trailer involved sasquatch jumping onto a trailer. FALSE ADVERTISING BOBCAT! -You know how I wanted to smoke the other half of that Parliament as I walked to Sunoco so I could get a fountain drink? Guess what!? GC doesn’t want me to smoke that half a stoge (or however you spell the word) because, mysteriously it’s disappeared. Well guess what, YOU FUCKING CUNT! I’m going to smoke half a cigarette while I walk to get a fountain drink at Sunoco. Fucking. Suck. On. It. You. Fucking. Cunt. -It could be because I’m, fucking, schlitzed, but that half a stoge I was sort of planning on smoking has up and disappeared on me. I went and grabbed another full cigarette to make up the difference, but seeing as how I haven’t moved one iota since smoking the last half a cigarette can only constitute one thing, and I”ve already explained away my theory behind this bullshit annoyance. GC. I’m speaking to you. You DO NOT INFLUENCE ME ANYMORE, and even though I’m drunk doesn’t mean my senses are dulled in any aspect. I will find that cigarette sober. And if I don’t, that means that forces are trying to influence my life other than free will, and you will PROVE that I am right in every aspect of what I’ve been squawking about these past months. I dare you to prove me right, because it will just mean more people will either be against me or join with me. Either way, I will know who my allies are in my war against you’re lazy ass piece of shit. -That half a cigarette I was looking for, just happened to be on my nightstand. I don’t know why I might have put it there, but while I was looking for it, and mistakenly pulling the Cheez-it’s box from the other side of the couch I spilled the vast majority of the soda I literally just went and bought all over the floor. And while I was typing that the video player that was playing Dragonball cut out. I RENOUNCE ALL FAITH IN ANY FAITH BASED RELIGION THAT HAD EVER EXISTED BEFORE MY TIME. THEY ONLY PROMOTE GREED AND SELFISHNESS. Even though they “say” they promote selflisness. Bullshit. Every Christian only cares about themselves and their family, anyone outside of that small circle of people they could care less about. Prove me wrong. Show me ONE family in this entire fucking world who would give up a room to a hobo. Show me ONE Christian/Catholic family who would be willing to help a homeless person make a better life for themselves. You can’t? I didin’t fucking think so. That’s because Christians and Catholics only care about the less fortunate when the holiday’s “say they should”. Specifically Thanksgiving and Christmas. The other 363 days of the year, they don’t give a shit and would cringe away from the same begging hand that they would invite into their house on those days. You show me a single family whose westernly faith based who take in and nurture a hobo the majority of th 365 in a year (that doesn’t involve the White Guilt family of The Blind Side) and I will shut up. Go on PROVE ME WRONG! It’s like when my friend said there were A LOT of open world first person shooters, and then when I told him to chalk up all the ones OTHER than Fallout and Borderlands, he was all a stammer. Not being able to bring ONE example to the table, even though he works at a VIDEO GAME STORE. I may be that friend you make fun of behind his back, I hear you and your girlfriend doing exactly that in bed that night, but I’m also the same friend you will be regretting you listened to when our world is in the toilet and people are killing each other over loaves of bread. Mark. My. Fucking. Words. The Illuminati can only shelter you from the truth for so long and then you’re going to have to face facts and realize that I’ve been preaching the truth since before you care to admit. Fucking sheeple piss me off. Why else would you be watching Doctor Who now, even though 2 years ago I was telling you to check it out but you were deadest against watching a single frame of it. But now you have a GIANT ass flat screen and am watching every show that has an internet circle jerk that also circle jerks with all the other “popular” show. Especially the “big three”: Doctor Who, Supernatural, and Sherlock. IT’s not because they’re good shows, it’s because you’re being subtly influenced by the puppet masters into believing what THEY WANT YOU TO BELIEVE. You fucking morons. But no. You’re going to sit back and laugh at me, as many have done before, while the world crumbles around your ignorant heads. -I have renounced GC. Or as the retarded sheeple call it, god. I’ve renounced every aspect of that fictional character, but yet it still tries to make me break. Which won’t ever happen. Because of that piece of shit, I’ve lost the single girl I’ve EVER loved more than myself. Because of that piece of shit, my life is where it is currently. Why? It’ because it rather cares about greed and such as opposed to furthering the betterment of the species that is homo sapien. I mean, why else would there be such a GIANT circle jerk concerning feline anamilia, or whatever their Latin name is. It’s like the world is the new generation of Egyptian, except we’ve grown intellectually enough to realize that cats are mere pets, as opposed to proxies to gods/true gods of the world. -And with that I have drank almost an entire pint of 100 proof Vodka in one night. I feel pretty good, but my hatred of GC, God, whatever yu want to call the string pullers of humanity, grows deeper and my fight towards the betterment, without “religious” influence, of humanity grows deeper. -Unless I’ve influenced you past the fact that I care about you beyond a shadow of a doubt, I want you to know one thing, and one thing only. EVERYTHING I’ve done recently. That includes cutting, thoughts, feelings, all are influenced by how I still feel about you. You may be trying to move on, and at this point you’re trying to make some random guy named JJ to understand that 2 people make a relationship(although, personally, I think he saw and heard what you were doing with me and expected the same treatement) I have to make you realize that at this point you ARE THE ONLY WOMAN I CARE ABOUT IN THIS WORLD. But you don’t seem to care, which is making me fail at finding someone to fill the hole you’ve made. You, are who I care about. You, are who makes me feel as though I don’t have too keep looking. YOU, are the woman in this world who makes me happy. YOU, are the woman who competes me in ways I’ve been looking for since my first girlfriend. I want to work on our relationship instead of rebounding (badly) with a girl with the same (white girl) name as you. I wanted to marry you and make you Mrs. “StClare” even if we didn’t have children. Which I didn’t want nd I wasn’t planning on, even though we had to have to get rid of something along those lines. L, I love you. I have ALWAYS loved you. No matter who I talk to and flirt (sadly) with. I don’t have as much experience with girls that “connect” with me as you have with men who think they can get as far as I did in as short amount of time as I did. Or don’t you realize that JJ is starting to back off because you aren’t giving up the V as quickly as you told him you gave it up to me in? Did that make sense? I’m so far gone that I’ve got double vision going slightly ad I don’t feel like looking back at wht I’ve types so far becaee my eyes don’t want todirectly focus o what I’ve typed so far. Seemed to start when Shrodinger umped on my indian lef crossed legs, bu still. -L, son’t ou realize how much I grly iss you? Don’t you realize that YOU are the girl I care about? I know we connected deeper than any other guy you would ever meet, or i? I cry EVERY time I think abouy how much I Miss you. EVERY TIME. Admittedly I get aangry about how you treat me concweeninf how I write. Depending on my stat of mind while I type how I feel , such as right now, th whole passive aggressive thing grows old quickly but I would be happy seeing you for half of 20 minutes specifically becaue I gt to see you for so long. <y skin demands more holes.

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-I think my alcoholism and cutting are late. It’s as if I’m making up for lost time when it comes to my liver and skin. Like, if I was a “normal” person, raised by normal parents I would have done all this shit in highc school. But because I’m held back in my emotion and mentality I’m now doing the things that I would have normally done while still in high school. Although they do say that mental disorders usually sprout up while in a person’s 20’s. I don’t know. I just know I love carving into my skin with quick swipes of my ballisong as well as drinking my liver into submission with Smirnoff 100 proof vodka, which I’m sad to say is gone until sometime tomorrow when I get a new bottle and drunken myself into submission with horror movies. Tomorrow’s Halloween for the uninitiated. I can’t way to do so. Other than that my arms and right leg look like I got into a fight with a really pissed off Schroedinger and I’ve got to pisss like a pregnant teenager. And with that I end this entry. -Also I added people to my pen name’s Facebook. I feel like I should wash myself with lava soup, followed by a shower with steel wool. That’s how dirty Facebook makes me feel. Descending to the level of the people being pulled on strings. As I’ve said before, as Ultron said: “There’s no strings on me.” I wonder why they want the bad guy to ALWAYS be the guy who goes against the status quo. Kinda makes you wonder, amiright? Probably not, because the VAST majority of people reading this will be puppets being tugged along on strings to keep the people docile. But what can you do but speak the truth until someone realizes what you’re saying is better than what their saying. I’m glad I came to the realization that my words wouldn’t be taken for whtat they’re worth until after my death. The downside of being a martyr for your cause. -Why is it so easy to cut into the fleshy bits of my arm on the top or the bottom, but when I carve into the sides of my arm it takes a lot more force? Is there some extra protective layer of skin that stops a full cut or something? -Upon my third viewing of Guardians of the Galaxy I have one thing to say. Fuck anyone who thought it was a bad movie. It seems all the bad reviews were from people who didn’t take 10 minutes out of their time to learn the basic information of each character, such as myself. Thereby making the movie a more enjoyable experience. I can understand getting a comic fans perspective and a normal persons perspective, but every negative review I read had a problem with things that were easily explained when you actually understood the characters. I’m one of the one who didn’t know who the Guardians were before they announced the film. But when they did I looked up the bios of every character, thereby aquainting myself with who they were as characters. One guy bitched because he couldn’t understand why Drax drunkenly called up Ronan. It’s because he was fucking drunk and he wants to kill Ronan and because he’s suicidal. Why else does he laugh whenever the odds are stacked against him? Fucking tit bags.

#alcoholism #cutting #100 proof smirnoff vodka #halloween #facebook #guardians of the galaxy #drax #ronan

-I just had a thought. A while back I was talking to C, my first girlfriend, outside of Sunoco while she got gas. No, that’s wrong. I was talking to her before that and at the time we were talking she told me that she had seen a “psychic”. I put it in parenthesis because I don’t believe any commercial psychic is actually a psychic, more of a huckster than anything. But as she was telling me about the visit she made mention that the woman told her to look out for a man with a wolf tattoo. At the time she thought it meant RR, a guy we both mutually knew, because he had a wolf tattoo. What if it wasn’t a tattoo and it was the man’s spirit animal of sorts? I feel as though mine could be a wolf, because anyone who knows me knows that I rarely interact with other people of my own race. Outside of barely a handful of people, which includes family, and my cat, I’m a loner. Like the lone wolf. When I was a kid, I was oddly drawn to the wolf. Not in an aspect of having pictures up all over the place, but when I went to Thompson Park Zoo and I was getting a souvenir from the gift shop, I left with a wolf bust. I was drawn to it, you could say. I need to meet a shaman. Only through shamanism can a person truly tap into their full potential. Western medicine only tries to hide and suppress a person’s natural, latent abilities. Latent…am I using that correctly? (Of a quality or state) existing but not yet developed or manifest; hidden; concealed. Yep, I was using it right. I had another thought I wanted to get into but my brother called to talk to dad and we got to talking for a little bit. I see it as the universe trying to stop me from making that thought concrete. So, until I remember it will stay corporeal….is that being used correctly? Until I can remember and write it out. Of or relating to a person’s body, especially as opposed to their spirit. Nope, WAY off on that word usage. I used to think corporeal meant something along the lines of ghost-y type shit. Let’s just leave that thought to flutter around my head like an invisible moth hovering around the bulb that is my brain. Eventually it will land, and I will transfer it to writing. -I wonder if the filmmakers of Planet Earth ever felt sympathy for the animals they were filming. Watching a polar bear fight with a walrus out of desperation, after spending several days adrift pulls at the heart strings and I just want to give it a hug. L, I know I said we’d watch the show together but when you don’t think we’ll ever see each other again, what’s the point of keeping them on the hard drive. I might as well watch them and then delete them. So, I’m sorry. As well as sorry for any slanderous things I’ve said in the past while under the influence of depression and the thoughts contained therein. -EBOLA IS A HOAX. A SCARE TACTIC. A SMOKE SCREEN. Mark my words, it’s only used as a way to keep the populace scared of their fellow man. Think about it. It sprouted up in Western Africa, which stereotypically is the breeding ground for diseases and famine. Africa, not just the western quarter of it. Then it goes to Texas, with NO discernible starting point, it just happened. Then it comes to New York City and the guy who had it went all over the place. Such as a bowling alley and a subway, 2 places where people frequent consistently and use things other people have touched many times over, yeah if that’s not a scare tactic I don’t know what is. Until Martial Law is called for in the United States, this is just yet another disease that “threatens the denizens of the world”, in the vein of West Nile and mad cow disease and bird flu and h1n1. Fuck you Puppet Masters. It’s no wonder they make all villains in popular franchises to be humanitarians. They don’t want humanitarians in the world. They only want capitalists, looking for the quick buck. As Ultron has said repeatedly throughout the internet, “There are no strings on me” And like Ultron, there ARE NO STRINGS ON ME. There are some, but I’m slowly cutting them because with strings comes control and the absence of FREE THOUGHT. Next thing you know, like communists and socialists before me, they’re going to go after the free-thinkers of the world. And I mean that using my personal definition, which is: a person who thinks for themselves as opposed to letting other people think for them. It works best in religion, but in our day and age it can work for any aspect of the world. -Day 2 of drunkenly cutting myself and I’ve come to a realization. While the cutting, or stabbing, hurts when it initially happens it still feels better than what I have to endure concerning what my brain makes me think on a normal day. I’ve started hiding my left arm from the “normal” people, and I wish that I started this in high school, as opposed to now. But everything happens for a reason, and I have yet to figure out why I’ve started enjoying the feel of steel against my skin. Needless to say, I just stabbed my arm numerous times. Why? I don’t know, I just wanted to. And if what Hemmingway said is true then maybe it holds trues still for cutters. I may get this wrong, but what he said was: “don’t say anything drunk that you wouldn’t say sober. It’ll teach you to keep your mouth shut.” Yep, holds true for cutters such as myself. I can’t break my skin sober, but drunk I’ll cut and stab to my heart’s content. Within reason. -I just had a thought that I should date this so that my reader(s) will understand exactly around what time I started doing what I’ve started doing. At the time of the writing of this paragraph it is the 29th of October. Twenty fourteen, at 7:49 in the PM. -I have, since I started, caused blood to erupt from my left arm, and right arm and leg. Why is it that my right arm is easier and less painful to cut than any other appendage? I have 3 and a half lines on my left arm and 4 stab points, but my right arm has 11 lines. My right leg, however, has less than both. I wonder why that is. Is there more strength on my right side? Or does it feel better on my right arm as opposed to other appendages. I don’t know personally. But either way the burn of cut skin feels better than I used to think it did. And now that my Planet Earth playlist is over I’m going to play with Lucille for a while, who knows how long…… Well I do, because I’ll most likely stop and watch more Planet Earth when I’ve grown hungry for the microwavable lasagna that I’m planning on having for dinner. There’s nothing better, at this point in time, then an entire day that consists of processed food that either does or does not contain any real food whatsoever.

#sunoco #psychics #tattoo #am i the lone wolf #thompson park zoo #shamanism #planet earth #ebola is a hoax #western africa #texas #new york city #west nile virus #mad cow disease #bird flu #h1n1 #communism #socialism #ernest hemingway #cutting

-You say you used to love me, but why would you get so angry (with the aid of mids) when I make mention about talking and “hitting” on other girls. When you look at me you see the man you feel love for, the man who, under normal circumstances, would be able to get a vast majority of women he meets every day. That’s not the case. Even with your encouragement I can’t hit on other girls. If I were to have sex with them first, then I feel completely comfortable around them, but when I talk to a girl in the wild, so to speak, I don’t get anywhere. Haven’t been able to since before I started dating M. I’ve tried. Look at J, the girl who works at Santiago’s. But you already knew that, and after we became one it doesn’t go much further than friendship. Even with your encouragement I can’t easily do what other normal guys my age would be able to do. Which is talk to a girl with or without the thought of sex on the table. You always told me to go out and fuck other girls, essentially making our relationship an open one, but I was always weary about you going out and doing the same with guys. But now you have JJ and you seem to be happy with hanging out with him, and apparently A likes him. But we all have a theory behind that one. Well at least 3 of us, and you know who I’m talking about. I just see this whole “flirting” debacle as a sign pointing me towards you. Telling me that you were the one I should be with. Why else were there so many coincidences having to do with what we were both doing separately at the time we met? What other explanation could there be behind how mad you get at what I said a month ago? You used to get pissed at what I had to say but you knew it was in the past and that I didn’t think the same way as when I was writing it. The same thing is happening now, but you’re getting pissed about it. Why? I want to believe its love, but I feel like you’ve kind of moved on more than I have. And this frightens me, and saddens me. -Remember how whenever you wanted to get crazy in bed I had to be drunk in order to handle the way you treated my back? The same thing holds true when I try to cut myself. Last night I was sober and couldn’t bring myself to even pierce my skin. But today, 20-30 minutes ago, I slashed 5 small lines into my forearm without a second thought, with the help of vodka. This scares me because it felt good to an extent…

#an undeliverable and sad letter(ish) to my ex I wish I didn't write with hindsight

-Agreed to help a family member out with some around the house stuff before winter. Mostly landscaping things, and heavy things. It’s a nice little job to do alongside my stocking one that keeps me in some pocket money in between student loans. Well I said I would help her out at 1130, and I had a feeling that I would have to confront my uncle, who I didn’t call back to rake his pine needles a few days back. Which, coincidentally, I think, caused it to rain after the decision. Paranoid delusion. As I’m reading Prince of Thieves dad calls and says that someone would be coming to pick up some wood. I’m figuring come up to the porch, grab what they want, then leave. That’s what I would do. Why bother the person when they know someone will be taking wood. As it’s close to 1130 I tell dad what I was going to do, and he tells me that it’s my uncle coming to get the wood. Something I had already figured out from hearing his voice in the background. He also adds that this uncle would have to come inside because some wood inside might be of use to him. Leftover from the reconstruction of his computer desk. Eventually I hang up and instantly go to putting the wood that’s inside outside. Then I attempt to continue reading. After a few minutes of reading the same lines over and over and over again I get up and get things ready for going to the prearranged family member’s house. Her name is V by the by. As I change my clothes befitting the temperature I hear my uncle pull up and knock on the door. Having already put the wood on the front porch, I ignored it and continued getting ready. At one point even saying out loud that “the wood’s right there, how stupid are you?” I go downstairs fully clothed and set my shoes, insoles, and phone on the sofa on my way outside. Once I open the door he walks forward as if assuming we’d go inside. I move to the wood, closing the door behind me, and after a few minutes of conversation that didn’t really mean anything to anyone, or maybe there were hidden shit underneath all the shit or some shit like that. At one point, when he asked that I was working for V today, while I was responding in the positive my right eye blinked. I was wondering why that was before, but maybe it was me subconsciously indicating that I knew something having to do with work would be brought up or something. I had it, and then a fly flew in front of my vision and for some reason. And I know what you’re gonna say, I had one of those…….squirrel! Moments. That’s not the case. I was in mid-sentence, fly goes by, and my train of thought goes in a different direction. It’s like how the enchanted people in Norrel and Strange, when trying to explain what is going on to them they start talking about something completely different having nothing to do with anything closely resembling what they want to say. Does that make sense? Either way, I had a thought that I should go and help him after eating something after working for V today. I begrudgingly think this thought because at V’s, and my introvertedness, or because she’s an old woman. I don’t have to talk much. Which is the way I like it, most of the time. So she gives me duties, I fulfill them, and am left relatively in my own world. If I were working for my uncle, he would want to try to help or something or be around constantly. Much in the same way my dad, for whatever reason, comes outside to watch me mow the lawn. He brings a book to read, but why bring a book outside to read when you were comfortably doing that inside? Why make sure your 26 year old son is doing a proper job of mowing, when as a kid he would beg to mow the big lawn at his grandmother’s house because she had a riding mower? I’m pretty sure he can handle it, to an extent. The mechanics and for some reason or another the pull string would NOT pull at all. Then when dad came out of the house to do his “reading” and then I tried it again, it pulled as if nothing happened. Explain that fucking shit to me. Anyways, I would rather put in headphones and do the job, but because he would be standing there. I’m assuming, my uncle I mean. I would begin to feel awkward due to it. It’s one thing being in a crowd of people, because at least there you can get some isolation. It’s when you’re one on one with a person that you really feel eyes burn into you when you’d rather be unseen. Does that make sense? -“Today I’ll talk about kindness. Justice, faith, and kindness. I want you to listen carefully. Kindness and faith, are the foundation. Without them, we can’t become good people. And with justice, we know we can lead a good life…Well, first of all, you have to practice honesty…Keep your temper, never lose control of yourself…Be patient, if you learn to do these things, you can master anything.” – Kung-Fu sample from “8 Diagram Pole Fighter” in “Campfire” by Wu-Tang Clan. -NOTE DUMP FROM PHONE: Assumptions about my intelligence, in a negative light, cause me to close in and grow slightly in anger which causes me to exceed people’s expectations. For example: V, probably off an assumption by my uncle. Also before, she’s normally right there, possibly. Believing I need to be overseen to an extent. Today, when I first started my work she was inside. Possibly figuring out more things for me to do. I think it is because while on the way to her house I made a remark about going for a jog later because the weather was nice out today. Why do they not want me running? They seem to be doing everything to stop me from doing so. Either shit happens that stops me from running, or my knee will start hurting shortly after I get about half-way through my run. To say my stamina has plummeted drastically would be an understatement. Last time I ran I couldn’t even make it the whole way before I had to stop (running) due to exhaustion. Earlier, I went for a walk to get a bottle of vodka. ON my way back I decided to go down State Street and then down Water Street, instead of going through back streets. As I was walking another man was walking towards me. I noticed that he was on the same side of the sidewalk as me and I consciously decided not to move. Believing he, like the people in Worcester, would move out of the way when they notice that I’m not going to move out of the way. Once we got to about 10 feet away I then move to the left, closer to the street. It isn’t until I do this that the man walking in the other direction goes to his left, as if thinking I would need the space or something. Or avoiding the person who looks guilty but wouldn’t hurt a fly. Unless it annoyed me. Fuck flies. I just found that oddly strange. I move out of the way and then he moves out of the way. It’s the second time a person older than me in this town has done exactly what I’ve done, right after I do it. The first being some guy in the library who took off his jacket a few seconds after I took off mine. Mine came off because I was sweaty hot and I wanted to cool off. He took his off because, as they say “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery”. Unless you’re me, then when you imitate me I get annoyed and pissed off that you had the gall to even attempt to flatter me. -This morning was the second time that 3 little birds were perched near my front door in the morning. When I looked out the window upstairs one of them flew off, but still, there were 3 little birds, each by my doorstep (sitting on the power line above my front step). Since then I’ve been thinking every little thing will be alright. Bob Marley. May you rest forever in peace. -Every time I look at my arm veins and they’re popping out of my skin like popcorn I can’t help but think about a friend of mine who shares the same name of my tranny step dad, when he told me once of his friend, the ex-heroin addict, in reference to anyone veins: “Look at them feeders!”. I have excellent feeders. -Note to self: don’t go out like Kurt Cobain. Go out like Ernest Hemingway. -On a side note. I’m about as drunk as Hemingway back in his day. And as Patton Oswalt just eloquently put it, “Fuck you liver.” Literally, that was perfect timing. Fucking drunk people for the win. On a side side note Patton Oswalts The Two Dumbest Cuts in the World off of one of the albums for Leftover Crack is one of the funniest, knee slapping, 8 minutes you could spend in your entire life. It’s all improve flaming a patron of his standup routine. Fuck Patton Oswalt is hilarious. -How about this fucked up shit. I DID NOT delete Ninjaspy from my harddrive. But when I put Circle Pity on my playlist I’m currently listening to it’s somehow ”deleted”. Now explain that one to me. -Fuck horns to heaven. Too close to the sign of Baphomet. Instead of horns to heaven how about a peace sign? I may have an alterior motive to this but still. IT’s better than perpetuating that stupid Illuminati sign I’m seeing in everything Illuminati controlled. This inclluedes Community, which makes me insanely saade. As well as the thoughts that sprout from that concerning Joss Whedon…… Sad Face. -You know it’s going to be a good piss, especially when you are drunk, when you lean against the wall that supports the piss recepticale. Or however that’s spelt. But you know it’s an especially good piss when you go from leaning on that wall with your hand as support to when you use your elbow and lower arm as support. This would be easier esplained with a physical description but im about, no about about it. I[‘m drunk having just pwered through a half a bottle of `00 proof vodka. You can tell by my typing prowess how drunk I am. Now back to music and Lucy. hFuck that erioud was hard to type. It was like I wasn’t meant to type it with a period. Tha sentence I menal. Next on the playslist “Keine Lust” by Rammstein. An amazing song about the overabundance of people in the world gorging on lifes vices and growing bored with them, mich like the people of the united states. And the author but I still love pussy. Please give me a girl to eat out, I mmissu L’s pussy and eating it out. I need a replacement. I wish I could have L back. She is….You are….the epitome of the perfect woman. At least as far as I see it. And if I was more active while we dated. I wish I could get a second chance with oyu. -As for everyone just tuning in, I prefer being drunk nowadays as opposed to being stoned. You may ask why this backward ass way of going about things. And I have this as a response. I’m making up for lost time. All throught my high school career I didn’t like beer or any alcohol entering my gullet. But now, after smoking pounds and pounds of weed, I find boring and monotonous. And I hate monotony. N0w I’m making up for lost time and schlitzing myself intio oblivioun. Fick im druk. Lets go back to singing and playing, cause at least I can’t “Fuck” tht up. Lauhging my mother fucking ass off, literally./ -My neck’s gonna hurt tomorrow. I know that for fact. -It’s not loud enough if your ears don’t ring after you put it on pause. -Yep, my neck is going to DEFINITELY going to hurt tomorrow. But ahts what happens when you put Slipknot flooowed by Star Fucking Hipsters in a a playslitsl One after the other. -Dad just let me know that dinner was done. I don’t know why. I new that dinner would be done befre my ppayslist. I don’t know wy he had to remind me. Laught outl lud come sot mind.e Whoa I’m fucking drunk’------ish. -Turning Japanese by The Vapors. ‘Nuff said. -And with that I eat meatloaf and then go hang out with friend and have a nerd in. Our generations version of the poker night;l Thqt fucking period is an elusive creature. -At the start of the nerd in I forgot my mouse, which means I can’t really play any game I have on my computer. Well unless you count my Nintendo emulator, peggle, and Pokemon Zeta I can’t really play any of my games because I drunkenly left my house without my mouse. Although it goes to show you what happens when you leave the house and while you lock your bedroom door without your keys. I’m way too drunk. I lock my room door without realizing it and also leave without my mouse. I’m basically repeating everything I said, and already I’m growing bored with this nerd in. I’m just falling into the same old cycle I was in, and because I’m drunk I really need to find a way to entertain myself while L plays League of legends, a game I find not really that fun and A playing some random games on PS4 that I have no interest in at all. -Nintendo emulator didn’t work. Tried playing Pokemon Zeta, but to no avail. Now I’ve given up on reading Prince of Thieves because force of habit has my mind trying to pay attention to what’s on television, the DVD version of Dragonball Z: Battle of Gods, as opposed to what’s being ingested through my eyes. Needless to say, I might get drunk again and give the other three people in the house something to collectively laugh at as opposed to actually contributing anything at all to anything because I try not to watch as much television as I used to. As Kurt once wrote, which the lyrics are escaping me at the moment, in Dumb. You can google it from here. -Also I just found out that my dad has a spare key to my room. Which doesn’t bode well for the fact that I’m trying to keep my room locked from anyone outside getting inside while I’m away from the house. Now I know he can enter it anytime he wants. I think I’m going to remove that key at sometime in the future and hide it somewhere only I will remember. -What they say is true. You can’t go back home. I say this because I’m mid-way through our nerd-in and already I’m bored and want to go home. Most likely because I have nothing to preoccupy my mind with outside of watching other people play video games, or because I’m sobering up and growing bored with what’s happening. Either way. I’m bored, and I want to go home because at least there I could watch something without hinderance and then I would pass out with the same amount of hinderance.

-One of the many dreams I had last night consisted of me and my dad getting into a fist fight. I don’t remember why there was a fist fight, all I can remember is that I was kicking his ass and then as the fight winded down I pointed out the fact that he got buzz cut too close to the scalp on the back of his head. He indicates that he was going to walk past me; both of us were still pretty pissed at this point. I indicate that he can go look at it somewhere by moving back a step or two. Then when he got within a foot of me I threw a tremendous right hook. Night night. And he fell into the room that is my brothers. Other than that my dreams consisted of me hanging out with the study group, from Community, at a Six Flags-type place where we rode on roller coasters. I only dreamt that because before this week off I’m on I dreamed that I said good-bye to the study group, as if they were real people I studied with at college and we had a week off that we weren’t going to see each other. Also I was watching Knocked Up last night, so that must be where the roller coaster bit came from. -Have you ever wondered if you’ve lived your life before? That every action and thought is just the same thing that you thought or did the last time you went through your life. I can’t help but think this with the evidence that comes forth to me. Such as my ex, T, telling me not to go for E, a girl I had a crush on a while back. Or how L told me not to become a drug dealer. Or how, while reading a political article about how shitty a person Mitt Romney is, my brother said “I told you she was going to get you killed.” Or how, at least I think, T said that me kissing her over the sink at Subway, how “that would have been romantic”. It’s as if everyone knows where my life is going, except me. I have a strong hunch, but until all the cards are on the table it’s just that, a hunch. I wonder if I’m growing into a clairvoyant of sorts… -I’ve got Wu-Tang spinning on my phone, old resin smoked through a bong with a perc inside my head, and having just read up on what is horrorcore, linked from the Wu-Tang Wikipedia page. Out of the corner of the eye I see what loosely looks like smoke floating over the couch to the left. I look in the direction but can’t discern whether or not it is there. I then look down at the bong stem to see if it’s still smoking. It isn’t. Then I see the smoke again, this time fainter and closer and closer to the floor but still in the vicinity of where you sit when on a couch. Feel as though I see something not seeable move closer to my brother’s door, behind the couch. I’m not saying what it is, but you know what I think it is. At least. That is if you know that I believe my home is haunted. While writing the second paragraph Schro walked into my vision on top of the railing over the stairs drop. To say I jumped and had a spurt of adrenaline would be an understatement. -This made me laugh: “At the 1998 Grammy Awards, he (Ol’ Dirty Bastard) protested the Clan’s loss (in Best Rap Album) by interrupting Puff Daddy’s acceptance speech for his Song of the Year award.” Ok, now if Kanye West is such a genius, then why is he ripping ideas off from the only deceased member of Wu-Tang Clan, when they’re the ones who brought him into the business? My hatred for that fuck-tape star-fucker grows. -I misspoke above. And misunderstood. He wasn’t, technically, brought into the business by Wu-Tang, but he was one of the many rappers who sprouted up by stealing the sound of Wu and using it as their own. Not exactly plagiarism but still not very imaginative. He is definitely a musical jeanyus. -Kaiser roll, white albacore (mayo, adobo, Italian seasoning), rotisserie chicken breast, American cheese, lettuce, mustard. Delicious. One down, almost, one to go. Hopefully the taste doesn’t grow bland. The second was just as good as the first. Bit stuffed now though.

#community #six flags #six season and a movie #knocked up #mitt romney #i heard that right?#wu-tang clan #was that a ghost?#my disdain for kanye west #ol' dirty bastard #sandwich artist

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-Me thinks that I was correct in staying off the grid via Facebook. I just attempted, twice, to sign up for one of those people tracking pages and the computer wouldn’t allow it. Well more like the website itself was keeping me from signing up. I’d click the sign up button and it would look pressed and start with that loading animation next to it, then after several seconds of loading it stopped and stayed on the sign up/in page. Maybe I’ll try in the future and keep it strictly George StClare that way I can link that and this together. Keep my writing persona separate from the real persona I use every day. Actually that’s what I think I’ll do, when I come on Wednesday, to the library, I’m going to make a GSC facebook page and when I add friends let them know that it’s me so they would know. Maybe get a grassroots campaign of readers started via word of mouth for my blog. Welp, I think it’s time for a notebook poem dump. All of these are untitled and a majority of them were written in Worcester.

The amber within amber liquid affords me no solace -nor the moss to be sparked Nor the sun upon my face -nor the pain the fresh ink brings I find solace in her eyes, which I’m soon forgetting In the pink of her smile, which I’m soon lamenting

There is a man, He sits outside of McDonalds a majority of the day salt damaged roof he eats an infinite supply of fast foods does he make daily rounds, or is this his shift? I’ve seen them But what is your purpose? Why do you do what you do? Flick once, twice Third times the charm Moss combusts and fills the chamber It bubbles, a sharp intake of air Cough like the bubbles Smoky spurts

Crossroads (I think I’ve already published this one on here before) I stand at a crossroads, I know if I go forward a long and Arduous journey awaits me. My only Thoughts are of her To go back would mean rehashing past mistakes and experiences. Must go forward Forever marching toward that goal.

Sitting alone – Drinking alone Faces of friends – faces of lovers Old and new – new and old

This isn’t a poem but 2 separate lines out of the same notebook, they just sound poetical when read together.

As the alcohol slowly spreads throughout my body, my shoulders ache as though Having just lifted a great weight. The cold seeps out of my pores like sweat. Chilling my limbs with its escape

Jibber-Jabber Yes, I just said Jibber-Jabber. Jabber. Jabberwocky. Lewis Carroll. Curiouser and Curiouser. My favorite. At the moment.

And that concludes my poetry. I stopped writing poems shortly after moving back to Lowville. I wonder if there’s a connection. I also haven’t been writing short stories either, or any stories for that matter. I edited the first entry in Journal, even added a bit and tightened up the way it was written, but other than that. No, not really. I need to find a muse. Either a new one or an old one. Either way I need a woman who will open the floodgates of creativity lying dormant inside my brain. -While watching the series premiere of Constantine and it got me thinking. I know that there are different planes of existence outside our own. They live within a membrane that connects the two, or more, universes. I also know that these outside universal beings influence our own plane of existence. I have yet figured out a word to call these things, but I’ve touched upon them before whenever I use the word “GC” because I believe they believe they are our gods. L. Ron Hubbard was close but he went all crazy, religious zealot with his science fiction story. Yes, Scientology is just like Christianity. A fictional story, written by man/men, that other people built a religion around it. Those people aren’t the brightest of the species but unfortunately people take their word as gospel, and they have a book to back them up. The demons and angels and gods and such are these other universes beings, and I also believe that people in the past have come into direct contact with these beings. I’m slowly beginning to believe that they are what is in control in the world. Causing the world to implode under greed and the like. I also know that ever since my birth these influences have been trying to turn me gay. Remember when the movie Constantine came out? I enjoyed the movie so I researched the character of John Constantine. I remember specifically the article I was reading, which was basically a Marvel controlled Wikipediaesque website for all their characters. Within the Constantine one, there was a minor blip about how at one point in time Constantine and his cabbie/chauffer/friend were at one time lovers, as well as one time members of a punk band. Now since then I have gone back and looked up the character bio and I found the same page, but upon reading it the gay aspect of the character was, for some reason, omitted from the final article. There have been many moments in my life where something like this has happened, this just fits in with the fact that I’m watching Constantine. Hence starting with telling you that I was watching Constantine’s series premiere. Now I’m even more interested in the Occult. I want to conjure these forces. I want to see these beings. I want to fight these beings. I want to stop their stranglehold on this world. They were most likely invited here by the people in power, which is why they are all still in power, and why the world is imploding. If the people don’t start looking at the signs we will all go to “hell”, and willingly from the looks of it. At some point I even thought that the Illuminati might be helping us, trying to tell us subtly that something is wrong. But I’m starting to think “forget that theory” based on my supernatural thoughts of the world. I need to research these things more. With knowledge comes understanding. With understanding comes anger. With anger comes war. I’ve already started my war on GC, it’s time to garner support. -One huge plot hole in the new Turtles movie. Sacks/Shredder were going to release a toxin to wipe out a ton of people then Sacks would sell the antidote to the US, making him rich and a hero in the eyes of the public. Here’s the thing. They were releasing the toxin in aerosol form. That’s fine. But don’t you think EVERYONE would notice that the toxin was released from the spire on top of the building owned by the guy who is now appearing with a magical antidote? I don’t know, just seems like really lazy writing in my mind. And why does every Turtles movie have to be about Raph’s redemption and “joining the team” as a whole, as opposed to being solo? Just some thoughts. -And also what’s the deal with their things staying on the characters no matter what they go through? Let’s slide down a mountain on our shells, then through a sewer tunnel for who knows how many miles, then fall off a building holding a giant spire, but don’t worry our trademark sunglasses stay attached exactly where they were placed when the characters were created in the computers. -I just had another thought about a connection between me losing L and C cheating on J with me. While I was with C for the last time, having dated her on 2 separate occasions, we watched one of the Saw movies, and I remember, with the help of hindsight, that that was the last time I actually enjoyed those movies. Now they’re just torture porn. I’ll give you three guesses as to which movie series L started to enjoy near the end of our relationship. Most likely, I believe, because she started watching them with this J/JJ person and they maybe developed their relationship further while watching them. Just brings back the whole concept of what kind of man, outside of a gay man, hangs out with a group of girls for the heck of it? That is unless the guy is dating one of the girls or is going around because he wants to date one of the girls and that girl wants to date him. Fucking…..you know what? I’m not even gonna finish that thought. The fact that L hasn’t told me different makes me think my hunches, yet again, are ruining my life and causing me to be clairvoyant to an extent. L, I know you’re reading these. If I’m wrong tell me so I can stop thinking this conspiracy shit for once. -Fuck Call of Duty. Fuck the entire game series. Fuck anyone who thinks it’s the greatest game series in the world. As a matter of fact, fuck anyone who thinks Monster is the best drink in the world. And this is why. Call of Duty is a dusty old cunt that hasn’t changed since the first one. I’ll admit, I’ve played all of them. Mainly for the storylines because at a time they had compelling storylines. But now it’s just the same shit in a different cover. Who the fuck cares? Oh dumb people, that’s who. Guess what!? Call of Duty is taking place in the future now! Oh, so it means I’ll be doing the same shit I have been doing since one. I’m done with that shit. Give me some innovation in my gaming, not the same cookie cutter crap. Monster is not the greatest drink in the world. I would rather drink warm moose piss if my only options were Monster and moose piss straight from the urethra of a moose. Give me piss or give me death. That’s what I say. Doesn’t anyone realize they’re being brainwashed by that company? I know this is going into conspiracy theory territory but did you know that the characters that make up the “M” insignia of the Monster is the Yiddish (is it Yiddish??) symbol for the number 6, which in a row creates the mark of the beast. You know, 666? Maybe that’s why my strings have been slowly getting cut and I’m starting to see the world for what it really is. I’ve cut down (relatively) on my mindless television watching and I’ve stopped (relatively) ingesting non-essential foods and drinks. More water than anything. And on a contradictory thought, I enjoy drinking Mt. Dew. But only occasionally. You know, because it’s one of those non-essential drinks. Its good when I’m stoned and when I need a chaser with my baby vodka, but other than that. Nah, I’m fine, just give me some water. Makes me feel good. -“Sometimes the man who looks happiest in town, with the biggest smile, is the one carrying the biggest load of sin. There are smiles and smiles; learn to tell the dark variety from the light. The seal-barker, the laugh-shouter, half the time he’s covering up. He’s had his fun and he’s guilty. And men do love sin, Will, oh how they love it, never doubt, in all shapes, sizes, colors, and smells. Times come when troughs, not tables, suit our appetites. Hear a man too loudly praising others, and look to wonder if he didn’t just get up from the sty. On the other hand, that unhappy, pale, put-upon man walking by, who looks all guilt and sin, why, often that’s your good man with a capital G, Will. For being good is a fearful occupation; men strain at it and sometimes break in two. I’ve known a few. You work twice as hard to be a farmer as to be his hog. I suppose it’s thinking about trying to be good makes the crack run up the wall one night.” – Ray Bradbury Something Wicked This Way Comes I’m going to think of this quote every time I read somewhere, or hear someone say, that all you have to do is smile and you can trick yourself into being happy. Fuck those people. The last person who smiled at me was a douchebag loser who was most likely only looking to use me to get him high. Fuck them.

#facebook #Worcester #poetry #Lowville #Constantine #L. Ron Hubbard #scientology #christianity #wikipedia #marvel #occult #teenage mutant ninja turtles #call of duty #ray brown #something wicked this way comes

-There’s nothing better than to come home after working hard, than to lay inside the cocooning embrace of a hammock as you drink vodka and Sunny-D. I have yet to do the latter part of this, but all in due time. First I must get out the fact that for some reason, either the fact that I had nothing to preoccupy my mind all the while I was working or because as one quote says (or something close to it) “if they’re in there maybe they’re meant to be in there” By there I mean my brain, thought process, train of thoughts, etc. I was working for at least a good 3 hours and I would say for about 2:15 of those hours I had thoughts of L running through my mind. Either of the god times we’ve had in the past, the broken promises I promised her, the mysterious JJ and exactly what he’s doing with her and to her (mostly the former), how I can’t help but think that this JJ is also J, that guy I talked about in the past. The one I used to think was karma incarnate because when C cheated on her boyfriend with me he had the same name as this guy, so, like I said, karma incarnate. The fact that J/JJ whoever was a main cause behind her leaving me; which leads to all the things I should have done but didn’t and because of my inaction I lost her. Okay, I think that’s enough of the poor me routine. Time to put some spiked tangerines in me and then watch something. I don’t know, maybe Horns again. Although I was also thinking about going through the entire season run of Gotham, at least all the episodes they have out already. I don’t know. What do you think? Look at me, asking an anonymous reader their advice on which movie to watch when I know full well they wouldn’t be reading it for at least a month from now, tops. -One or two last thoughts I just had, well one thought and one quote I came up with last night. First the thought: Soccer moms are ruining the world. Now the quote: “To say you do something doesn’t me you do it, to do something means you don’t have to say it.” Pretty good, eh? -I can’t help but get the feeling that all the time I spent in Worcester, especially the time I was with L, was a dream. I think about our relationship and it saddens me, not because I lost you, but because I feel like it didn’t actually happen and I just woke from this amazing dream this morning. You and anyone I met while in that city was a figment of my imagination. Nowhere other than my sub conscious could such a perfect specimen of the female aspect of our race be real. You were everything I was looking for in a girl. I’m working to fix my problems and I hope you are. Actually I know you are, but there were a few things that even your psychiatrist wasn’t touching, you could work on those. Until that day, when both of us are mentally stable, I will wait for you. I can’t say I won’t take opportunities when then come forth, such as yourself, but I can say I want to become the man you want me to be. I want to work at my own problems first so that I can call you my gingerbread cookie as freely as I want, without any repercussions. Like I was saying earlier, 2:15 of the 3 hours I was working I was thinking about your cottony hair and your gingerbread kiss. This thought made me think about you being my little gingerbread cookie. This led me to think about the kisses that prompted that nickname. This made me lick my lips and wish that your kiss was the last thing that touched them. Which, when it boils right down to it, it was. The kiss we shared, just the two of us, in your room, after you broke up with me. I long t feel those lips against mine again. I feel as though that might not happen again in the future, but will do everything I can to make that happen. I’m getting sick of the intermittent way the keys on my keyboard like to be pressed. I’ve had to redouble the pressure I present on my keys so that they will actually type what I want them to type. I’ve been having trouble with the “o” key for whatever reason. Maybe GC doesn’t like that I want who it doesn’t want me to want and is trying it’s damndest to stop me from telling her the same. L, I still love you. And until I have reason to stop loving you, I won’t. I don’t care who you’re “with” nowadays, I know he can’t even hold a candles flame to the love we shared in such a short amount of time. Why else would you sleep with a guy you literally just met if not for true love? That is assuming that you haven’t already slept with JJ/J yet, which in all probability is a possibility. I know for a fact that if he was the instigator to you breaking up with me then I know all the tricks, because I used to pull them myself. Basically he just bad mouths the boyfriend until the girl realizes that he’s “not as good for her as she originally thought”. Well fuck that guy, fuck the guy I used to be, fuck everything. I am getting myself healthy for you, and that’s all that matters to me. Also, while I say this you are probably growing tiresome with what I have to say. A broken record comes to mind. Well sometimes broken records fix themselves because there was only a small bothersome problem with the track. That track is getting fixed; when it does I am going to fight for you. Come hell or high water or fist or knee or foot or teeth or any other apparatus a man would use in a fight. I know this JJ person, whoever it is, doesn’t love you as much as I do. Or ever will. He/she only sees a beautiful girl who’s also damaged because the man she loved wasn’t who she thought she was. It’s called the shoulder to cry on technique. A man will be there to listen to your problems only so that he can get further than he would have under normal circumstances. JJ/J wouldn’t have stood any kind of chance if I had been mentally healthy. L, I know I’ve said it before but I do still want to marry you. You caused me to change how I feel about the whole aspect of marriage. I want you to be Mrs. StClare. You know the real name I mean. I want to be Mr and Mrs StClare. I want to be Mr. T if that’s your prerogative. I want you, because you made me feel like a man more than any other woman I know. T, she doesn’t count. Now I’m getting back into broken record territory so I shall stop before I annoy you too much. I love you, every day, all day. -In the Dragon Ball Saga I can’t help but wonder the following: Whatever happened to Launch? The sneezing maid of sorts to Master Roshi. I’ve still got 18 episodes and a single movie left of the Dragon Ball OG series then onto Dragon Ball Z, but still, I would like to know what happened to that character. Did she stay with Roshi or did she get with Tien Shinhan and then start a family of sorts with him. I know the blonde alter-ego of the character was crushing on him but what actually happened? Ugh….I hate waiting to find out things, but that’s life amirite?

#spiked tangerine #i'm an idiot #Worcester #i feel as though some of what i say can be misconstrued #is that spelled right?#misconstrued?#i'm pretty sure she meant Abrams #some nice words concerning how i feel about my ex #as well as some depressingly sad words #dragon ball #dragon ball z

-I am currently feeling depressed due to having said something while in a mood caused by losing the woman I love and then her responding to it accordingly. Let me say this again, I don’t want you to die L. Not ever do I want to see that. I’ll continue this after I’m over 3 sheets to the wind. I’m not drunk yet, having not taken another drink since the first one on my way back from Parkway, but I just had this thought. Why is it every great writer, poet, creative type has to be a tortured soul? Try naming a single one of those types, who’s still talked about 50+ years after their death, who wasn’t tortured in some way. Off the top of my head….Hemingway was an alcoholic, so was Poe. Bukowski has only been dead for about 10 years but I know I will still love his work when I’m the age he was when he died. That is if I make it to 70. Hell Frida Kahlo was plagued with physical problems resulting from a car accident in her youth. Well mostly it was the isolation caused by the injuries, but still, isolation is a problem. Which calls to mind this, why don’t people care about their fellow man anymore? Oh that’s right, thanks to Sigmund Freud’s grandson’s bastardization of his grandfather’s work we are all living in a consumerist, commercialized world where people care more about the newest Ford truck then they do about the man on the street slowly dying from starvation because the world has left him behind due to one reason or another. Right now it’s mostly kids trying to make it on their own, which I should have done, and injured vets like after the close of the Vietnam War. Only instead of being spat on they are just raped with a ten foot pole extending out of Uncle Sam’s trousers. Nobody cares about the middle children of the world, and I don’t mean that literally. The middle children of the world are anyone over the age of 11 and under the age of 30 who don’t have any children. Why else are there sexual images telling children to fuck and procreate? Because if they aren’t in debt, then they have no use in this country, and if they are in debt then the more the merrier because that means that the person will be working their fingers to the bone until the day they die. I, on the other hand, will NOT be paying the government for the privilege of college. Even though I’m 10,000 in the hole as of today and still have 3 years ahead of me for my bachelors, the united states government can suck my dick if they think I’m going to pay them back money that shouldn’t be that high in the first place. Put me in jail, I’ve been ready since I decided to join the collegiate environment. But this is all based on depressed thoughts being channeled into hatred due to the unjust and unfair system that the hippies have perpetuated because they call themselves hippies, when in truth they just became bankers and yuppies and they’re slowly strangling the life out of lady liberty and wiping their asses with the bill of rights and the constitution while telling the people of the world that everything is A-OK. -I’m going to have to start posting my other things because I’m getting close to where I’m at with my soliloquys. Like after my queue is done on tumblr I’ll be at 134, and this one is 153. -I’m stealing this quote from Frida Kahlo because it works for me as well: “I paint myself because I am so often alone and because I am the subject I know best.” Although I would substitute paint with writing about. -Why hasn’t there ever been a laureate of the middle class? You have people such as Oscar Wilde for the upper class and people like Charles Bukowski for the lower class, but where’s the voice of the middle class? Why doesn’t anyone care about us? We are the middle children of the world. There are more of us than of either of the other classes. Oh, that’s right. It’s because nobody cared about the middle/working class until now. But what about communism and the like. Spouting off wisdom for the proletariat versus the bourgeoisie? Problem with communism is greed, eventually whoever was fighting for justice for the indentured ended up caring more about themselves then the people they were supposed to be fighting for. Fixing the system so that they come out on the tip top and everyone else stays where they were before the uprising. The world is fine the way it is, it just needs some hardcore nipple tweaking to get to a place where prosperity and intelligence will reign supreme. Where ignorance would be a thing of the past and full disclosure from the bottom to the top is an everyday thing. That’s the perfect world, and it wouldn’t happen without the spark that ignites the flame that burns down the injustice. I’d like to think of myself as that spark. And FBI, CIA, NSA, whatever other collection of letters that form a shorthand version of the actual word, I think it’s anagram but I know that’s wrong. I know it starts with an A though. Anyways, those collections of bureaucrats and murderers have got their hands full with me because I’ve been living for the past 2 years knowing I will die as a martyr for this cause. So do your worst, because my words will live on. You can’t hide the truth, even though you do your damndest every day. That’s the best part about writing this stuff while offline, because it’s not noticed until published, which won’t be for at least a few more weeks, depending on how quickly it takes to post this online. -This was originally going to be a drunken rant about how much I love and miss you L, but, as you can see, it’s turned into something much more than that. I must stop writing my drunken thoughts into a notebook as if I’m Cobain in the 90’s. It’s 2014 and if he were alive now as he was then, all his writings would have been in a digital format such as this. Damn my constant need to copy things I read or watch. I have recently finished the Cobain Journals and since then, every time I get drunk, I write down random thoughts and opinions into a notebook as opposed to on here where it would be easier, quicker, and definitely more legible. Even if I’m misspelling all the words due to inebriation. -Nirvana was there before I met L. Nirvana is still there after I lost her. Nirvana will be there forever. Now time for 2 day old pizza slices. -Note to self: don’t go for a jog shortly after eating a slice of pizza, a couple of handfuls of cheez-its and a couple three shots of vodka. Makes for an upset stomach afterwards. And speaking of running, explain this one to me. In Worcester I was practically running every day, and every day I would only be out of breath by the time I get home. Now that I’m back in Shitville New York whenever I go for a jog, not only am I out of breath but my knee hurts. As I’ve stated previously. Explain that one. Why is it a knee, running on just plain running shoes doesn’t hurt, but that same knee begins to hurt, and painfully at times, on running shoes with insoles in them. Makes me think that while in Mass I was MEANT to be a jogger, but once I failed in my life’s goal of getting out of this shit state, I’m not meant to be a jogger, but yet another lazy piece of shit loser like every other person I know in this town. Well GC can suck my dick because it’s a fucking cunt. I’m going to be a jogger, and it can piss and moan and cause me to become a cripple, but until the day I need a cane to go everywhere I’m going to jog when I feel like it. What’s really fucking with me is that in Worcester I was running up and down more hills and longer hills at that then I am in this shit state. Actually, scratch that, there’s more hills in this stupid town. But it still doesn’t explain why my knee wants to hurt given the circumstances. The knee problem didn’t start until I got back into the state lines. I feel as though some form of invasion of the body snatcher/tommyknockers/matrix shit is going on and unless I do something about it it will continue until this world implodes. -T was just a school boy crush, I don’t care for her as much as I do you. L, you were the real deal. You never expected to do anything that happened on Easter, yet it all happened, and yet you constantly told me you specifically came to the house that night because you thought I was attractive. You can’t deny that, I may have been that drunken buffoon our entire relationship, but that was truth. You may not ever expect to see me again, but because you already lied with the never bit I know this isn’t the truth. Stop believing I still feel the same way I did when you unceremoniously broke up with me. I may be lapsing in my memory but I don’t think you ever gave me a reason behind why you decided this course of action. I’ve made up my mind it was many different reasons but you never before gave me a specific reason. Maybe little JJ has something to do with it, well fuck it whoever it is. That’s what I say. I’m done playing pansy boy who lets everyone walk all over him and never gets what he wants. I know what, or should I say whom, I want. You can’t deny there was a more than just a physical connection that night, why else did we stay together? Or maybe you just make it a habit of saying yes to everything a guy you think is cute says. I’d like to think that’s not the truth. Also, whatever happened to letting the other person know you’re seeing someone? You may think I’m all over T, getting down and dirty or whatever you goes through your head. But let’s get things clear. I’m not. I’m still mourning you, I still love you. There has to be a reason for that. My tears turn to anger because my brain doesn’t want to shed them anymore. -I’ve been sitting here racking my brain, trying not to think about who this mysterious JJ person is, but I think I already knew. I just forgot what that piece of shit’s name was, now I remember. You started hanging out with a J person shortly before breaking it off with me. I’m assuming that’s who talked you into it. Fucking cunt, JJ not you, although you can probably take partial blame because I told you from the start I hated liars and cheaters, both of which you technically did. I wish I knew someone who would be willing to make my outside feel like my inside with their fists, but alas I must rely on my own hands. Next time I get some alone time at B’s house I’m going to run my head up against his cement walls because I know they won’t give. If I did it here I would just break through the sheetrock. Unless I find a stud and do it there, but then I would still have to explain the dent in the sheetrock. -Whatever happened to “oh I would never date a guy from group”? Fucking liar, and if I’m wrong fucking prove me wrong instead of just saying I am and then getting pissed at me until I finally give up. I’m not giving up.

-Addendum (the next day): First let me start off by speaking again to you directly, L. Everything written above starting with the 3rd to last entry was written while I was in a state of mind that ended up causing me to get shit-faced last night. Luckily I went to a friend’s house and only resorted in hurting myself by continually shooting myself with an airsoft pistol, which is what I was hoping for. Not the pain or the fact I was using an airsoft pistol, but the friendly faces stopping me from trying anything worse. That’s the only reason I texted them in the first place. Also, I know I could have gotten laid last night. And I also know that the only way a man can get over a woman is 1 (or more) of three ways. Either he throws his dick into any willing hole. He finds happiness alone (which I’m still having trouble doing again). Or he jumps into another relationship without really working out any problems that the original relationship might have sprouted up in his psyche. Why didn’t I throw my dick into her? Well I was drunk enough to actually consider doing it, but she was about 200 pounds, maybe 150, heavier than me. Don’t get me wrong, the girl has a cute enough face, and I was really considering offering her a “place to sleep” last night, but I also have some form of standards. Even drunk. No offense intended to women of a plus size, I just don’t get turned on by a girl who is fat. I mean I’ve done it with a girl who was kind of fatter than me (K) but that’s about as big as I’ll go.

#depression #ignorance #edgar allen poe #charles bukowski #frida kahlo #sigmund freud #Ford #vietnam war #uncle sam #oscar wilde #communism #fbi #cia #nsa #kurt cobain #nirvana #jogging #self-hatred #i'm kind of a kid

-Explain this one to me, and it goes in with the whole delusion I have that this world, literally, revolves around my thoughts and actions. But explain why, when I refused to respond or even discuss any of the “literature” studied this semester with any of my fellow online classmates, did the teacher stop putting up the instructions to respond at least twice to your fellow classmates discussion board posts? Why else would a teacher stop telling somebody that if not because the person it was intended for didn’t’ care enough to want to do it in the first place. I always found the whole “respond to 2 peers” thing to be a little bullshit because if this were an actual class, with people to look at I would barely be involved in the first place. Probably sitting in the back and handing in assignment when they were due. After typing that out Schrodinger decided to jump onto my lap, what little space there is of it left and is now lying down. This is after I kicked him off my lap because I wanted to get out the textbook so I could have the stories I have to write an essay about on hand for reference. Wish I could get back in the state of mind I was in when I wrote the outline because, now, I’m not even convincing myself that what I’m writing is good bullshit enough for a passing grade. I’d still like to get really drunk, and I wanted to finish this essay first so I could post it at the library and then walk to the liquor store and buy a bottle for celebration, but the way it’s looking I might have to go get the bottle sooner rather than later and then attempt to write the essay in a drunken state. I’m pretty sure, because of how long it took me to make up hard boiled eggs, B won’t be getting back to me to hang out for at least hours so it’s not like there isn’t time to go and get booze. I just wish I knew the hours to Parkway Liquors by heart. But for some reason all the places in this town, with the exception of the more widely known chain stores (Wal-Mart, tops, any gas station), have weird hours. Dentists are only open some of the 5 days in a week, not counting the weekends, and they all take from noon to one off for lunch. Closing the whole place down as if the entire group of workers go out to eat together every day. Not really, but it makes a tiny bit of sense. -Maybe I’m better suited to writing when it’s dark. Sometimes I can bang out a short story in the morning, when the muses are shining upon me, but more often than not my most imaginative use of language comes from writing at night. Not sleep-deprived night, as is the case with some of my fiction, but more of an awakened night. Does that make sense? Let me try to clarify. I think it takes my brain all day to charge up to the point where it will be able to write unhindered, especially when it’s a paper of bullshitting quality. As is the case with a majority of the papers I write for school. If this idea doesn’t work tonight, when I plan on sitting down and doing nothing else until I’ve at least added 2-3 more pages of bullshit to my final, then from the moment I wake up to the moment it is posted using someone’s Wi-Fi I won’t be doing anything else all day.

#paranoid delusion #i want to drink #Wal-Mart #tops

-Notes round up for the past few days. -For the third time in as many days I have hit my head on something. Starting with the day after I declared war on GC. On top of that I have also knocked my shin against one of those big metal milk jugs. You know, the ones the size of a toddler? -I know I’m a pretty man, I know a lot of women find me attractive. The one annoyance is tweenage girls. Am I the sick one for not looking at young children just budding into “adulthood” and think “can’t wait for her to be of age so I can get a piece of that.”? Does that make me weird? I have a hard enough time with girls my own age, I don’t want to take the loser route and play with children. -In order: bun, mayo, roast beef, salt and pepper, honey ham, white American cheese, lettuce, tuna with garlic powder/adobo/Italian seasoning, tomato, chicken breast, maple bacon, yellow American, mustard, bun. At first it is good, but the longer you eat it the more trying the overabundance of flavors becomes. Pretty soon the juice from the tomato and the 2 separate pockets of mayo meld into a sauce of too much mayo that oozes from the sandwich, coating the rest of the ingredients. -In order to get some face time with T I’ve started saving all my cash I can hire her for an hour massage So far I’ve only got 15 dollars, I’ll most likely have more when I finish some work up for a family member but I’m looking at at least another full week between now and when I get paid the second time around for doing little Debbie before I have enough for the appointment and then I’ll most likely have to borrow some cash for a tip. Maybe I’ll not say something for fear of jinxing myself. Doing the work though made me feel like Bart Simpson Minus the quarter payment and the iodine. But not really, I just harkened to that episode in my imagination as I trekked through the backyard on my way to lift a wooden shrubbery cover out of a grown in section of wooded area. I was going to add more to this that day but I stopped typing due to not taking notes when people I’m talking about are within range. -It is difficult trying to connect with friends after certain life events. No matter how much you try each person will be on a different plain of existence. Take for instance, connecting with a person after they have a child. It is almost impossible for a person vehemently against kids to connect with a person with kids. The person with will talk of nothing else, while the person without will try to talk about anything except. Only after many months or years go by will the people be able to connect on a substantial level. -There have been a lot of unseen planes and jets flying above the cloud cover since yesterday. Less so now after I made a comment along these lines after hearing the first one today. -That ends the notes round up, now onto my current mood. Could someone explain why I’m in such a melancholy mood? I feel just ho-hum. As if shits going on but I could give less than 2 shits about it. I want to know what brought this feeling on. Should I have bought weed off of B’s mom and step-dad? Was that the reason why B, his step-dad, talked to me face to face when he never did so back before I became reclusive and then moved to Worcester? Invited me inside, which I didn’t do because B’s oldest younger sibling is the reason behind that tweenage girl comment. It’s one thing to stand around awkwardly in a person’s house, it’s quite another thing when tweenager’s do things in an attempt to catch your eye. You know what I mean. Or was I supposed to conversate with J and K, the respective SO’s of B and S. Although I was in this mood long before K even showed up. Maybe I shouldn’t have talked so much about T. Maybe I shouldn’t have sat looking at pictures of L and missing her more than I had been while I was outside of B’s mom’s house. I don’t know what the trigger was, although now I want to believe it was the picture gazing, but now I’m in such a mood that even though I need to write a 5-7 paper where I basically bullshit my way through it, but I don’t have any drive to do anything except sit around and mope. Or get drunk, but I drank all my liquor yesterday. What little there was left of it. It’s that fucking weed B “sold” me so he could get more baby food off me. Ever since I got that I’ve been doing the exact same shit I used to do that caused this kind of mood in me. I sat around all day for the past few days, watching movies and smoking the weed until it was gone. Sad thing was, it wasn’t even good weed. I barely got high any time I smoked. The highest I got was when I was smoking resin last night and this morning. Now everything is packed away in the closet, out of sight, out of mind, and tomorrow I can go back to doing things to keep my mind off weed and how much I want some. I just know if I don’t write that paper tonight then I only have tomorrow to write it and then I won’t be able to submit it. Well I could always go somewhere and piggyback off their Wi-Fi. I feel as though I won’t be staying with my therapist for long. Why else would I be this way if not because of a slight form of bi-polar disorder? Or is it a guideline and a rule that in order to be bi-polar you need to be a textbook case. Seriously, the guy asked me a lot of drug related questions, such as how much have I done and which ones I’ve done. But other than that it didn’t seem like he was testing me for bi-polar. After a couple three questions and answers he instantly said I wasn’t bi-polar, but I have a theory about what’s going to happen there now that they know I don’t want to be put into mental handcuffs by the use of pills. I’m sorry I’m not like every other pill head in town who uses their mental illness to line their pockets to buy useless things they don’t need just for the sake of having them. In my current mood the name of an old Nirvana song comes to mind. Not the words or the melody or anything like that, just the title. I Hate Myself and I Want to Die. He meant it as a joke. I don’t know how I mean it, but I’m definitely not joking. Fuck I want booze… Why did it seem like I could get drunk easier in Mass and here I’ve barely drank. Maybe I’m still in Lowville, still in Worcester. If that makes sense. Like I didn’t spend enough time in Worcester in order to fully leave Lowville, and now I’m back in Lowville having never fully left it in the first place and now I haven’t left Worcester yet so I’m hanging onto two different places I can’t get back to. One of them because it’s in the past, the other because in my current state it wouldn’t want me back. And more importantly, she wouldn’t want me back. Why can’t I just be happy by myself? Why do I feel the need to have constant companionship in every endeavor of my life? Why do I keep hanging out with people who pretty much annoy me? Well the last question can be answered by that piece of shit monkey on my back. I actually made it 3 whole days without smoking anything. I was proud of that fact, it makes me feel good to know that I did it without caring about weed. Not once did I think of it or feel a need to seek out my pipes to scrap a measly amount of resin out of them. Then B texted me and I haven’t had a sober day since…. Doesn’t help that I can’t do anything outside because it’s been raining every day, with only intermittent days of sunshine. Take today for instance, not an ounce of rain all day, but no sun because of the clouds covering the town from sun up to sunset and even into the night. This rainy weather has been like this ever since the day I got weed from B, when I helped him buy baby food with my food stamps. Tell me that’s not a fucking coincidence. That day, the last day I actually did anything that I wasn’t getting paid for, I tore apart a shelf that had been in the house when we moved in, did the dishes, and dug the start of a fire pit in an unused sandbox behind the house. I still have to make the pit bigger, but because of the stoned state of mind I was in this morning, I gave the shovel I was using back to my uncle even though I wasn’t done with it. I. Want. To. Be. Drunk. I should have chugged a few out of B’s bottle of cheap long island ice tea. Which I used to think was only a vodka based drink, but apparently it’s just a mixture of several clear liquors in one bottle. I’ll have to look it up to find out what it is exactly, but it would have made the night a lot better. Maybe that’s why I’m in this mood. I should have drank some of the booze every time I was near it and that’s why I’m in this mood. Am I turning into an alcoholic? Am I turning into my father? Am I going to have to kill myself to prevent that from happening? I don’t want to become a sad, lonely alcoholic who doesn’t know how to conversate on a normal human basis with people due to too much solitude and porn. But it’s turning into that because I can’t change the way I act now that I’m back in this fucking place. I was working on it while I was in Worcester. Granted it was a slow process that I didn’t start really working at until I found out I lost the only thing (person) in the world that I loved other than my cat. I realize, re-reading that, I’m making L off as some sort of possession or something. She wasn’t, she was one of the greatest women in this world, and I lost her due to inaction and broken promises. THANKS MOM AND DAD. Because, you know, “a parents actions are a blueprint for a child’s life.” Or however that church put it on their thing I took a picture of the last day I was downtown in Worcester. I just want to start over again, like I was able to in Worcester. I’m already growing tired of this life I’m leading in Lowville, because it’s the same as it was. I’ve fallen back into that rut I was stuck in which prompted me to move in the first place. I just want to fucking scream at myself for being an idiot. I want to yell in my rodent-like face and punch it until it resembles a bruised tomato, with just as much juice squirting from its broken skin. I want to rip my dick off and throw it in a lake because it hasn’t helped me. It being the cause of so many problems in my life, thanks in part to too much porn. On the bright side, I’ve gone 4/5(?) days without masturbating. I wanted to yesterday, but I stopped myself. If I keep pulling my pud whenever I feel the whim to do it I’ll never be able to connect with a girl unless it’s on a “you make my dick feel good” level. I want an actual give-and-take relationship with a woman, not a: you-made-me-cum-real-good-now-hopefully-we-connect-on-a-personal-level-so-that-when-the-passion-for-each-other’s-genitals-dies-we-stay-together. Or the Lowville standby: weve-had-sex-a-few-times-oh-youre-pregnant-and-youre-keeping-it-well-I-guess-ill-marry-you-and-well-start-a-family. I don’t know where this is gonna go, I just want to get drunk but unless I go buy beer that won’t be happening until tomorrow when I go to the liquor store. But only after I make an appointment with T for at least an hour massage. I might break the bank and go for a 2 hour at a hundred bucks, and then if I’m lucky take her on a date the same night. I’d love to cook for her, but the possibility of getting my dad to leave the fucking house for anything other than buying something and going to work (another annoyance I have to get over, but am finding it hard to), isn’t very high. I need my own place. I need my own place. I need my own placeineedmyownplaceineedmyownplaceineedmyownplaceineedmyownplace. I need to kill myself. I need to do a lot of things that I’ll keep saying I need to do but will never do because I was raised to never solve anything on my own because I was raised a pussy because I was beaten every time I stood up for myself and I think I’m weary towards people with beards because of my uncle. I don’t know why I’m wary around people with beards but I just aren’t good with people who have beards that are reminiscent of my uncles. I remember I used to look fondly towards my uncle, both me and my brother, when we were kids. I used to enjoy the smell of his pipe tobacco, but I also think something might have happened when we were kids that involved my uncle. I base this off the fact that one time, when I was helping him move some things into a storage locker, I was dragging something off the trailer and the entire time he was standing behind me and he didn’t move even when I bumped into him with my back. I might have been bent over at the waist because the thing was low to the ground. I just know that I had been dragging this thing for a few feet and the entire time he had been standing there, and then he decided to move when I bump into him? Tell me that doesn’t make you feel suspicious. I just want out of this mood. I hate being in these types of moods, but usually only time gets rid of them. It’s helped along when there’s outside positive stimuli, but when there isn’t I’ll most likely have to wait until tomorrow before I feel back to normal, and then I’ll have to spend from the moment I wake up until its done writing a paper so I can comfortably post it without having to pay for the use of a places facilities.

#note round-up #GC #adobo #tuna fish #sandwich artist #bart simpson #longing #social awkwardness #misreading situations #Worcester #Lowville #i want to drink

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-Explain this one to me. How can a single person text another single person, and I mean that as just one person texting another, but use 4 different numbers to do so? Cuz that’s just happened. I had been dozing because my strenuous activities of the last couple days have left me exhausted. That’s when I get 3 texts in quick succession, making no fucking sense whatsoever, from these following numbers: 616-560-7089, 920-740-0127, and 315-586-3986. After I responded in a dickish way to all three, well 2 because one never responded back, I receive a 4th text from this number 207-577-5758 asking simply “what”. I think the three numbers with weird area codes are all part of the same conversation that might have been I don’t know what really, but who the fuck is Miles? Because that’s who 315 was looking for. Feel free to prank text or call these people as much as you want. I don’t give a fuck at the moment because that’s just who I am. I’m an asshole and I’m a dick and I don’t care. Used to be a nice guy but that got hammered out of me living in Lowville, now I’m back with a vengeance because I don’t want to be in this fucking town again. Just falling back into the old routines and it’s fucking stupid. And how does this make a single bit of sense, even for a less than intelligent person? “Dfac I’m jonesin for biscuits and gravy Texas Pete trifecta” then when I ask who this is they respond with a fucking meme as if I’m not who they think I am that is an owl that says “who? Mike jones” fuck I fucking hated that fucking sell-out rap artist. Couldn’t go 4 channels back in the day without hearing that egotists fucking name. That’s when he, I’m assuming it’s a guy who sent this because the texts didn’t really give off a female vibe, “I’m saying I just bought a 4k been nerdin now I’m hungry hungry hippo” Seriously? What kind of retard talks that way? I’d understand if it was rhyming cockney. That I get. This is like American cockney only worse because it’s based in hip-hop which has gone downhill since the late 80’s and early 90’s. Or maybe I’m just talking out my ass about that because rhyming cockney was created by inner-city youths back in the day and the same goes for the American cockney beginning to take hold in the youth of the country.

#wrong number #mike jones #cockney #80s #90s

-I love being drunk, I don’t like sitting around doing nothing as I download things outside the library while I’m drunk though.

I enjoy doing things, not reading, while I’m drunk. Something to preoccupy my mind and body either spereately or at the same time.

IF you’re wondering I drank 4 or 5 double shots of Captain Morgan 100 proof before I left the house so I could FINALLY submit my outline for my final paper for Lit-100. At least I think that’s the number of the course, it’s introduction to literature to the laymans.

As I was writing this my Dawn of the Planet of the Apes download was going at a decent speed, not enough to let me stop downloading after a few minutes, but enough that it would have been done realitvely quickly. That’s when some androgynous person walked by, at first I thought it was a slightly pudgy girl with glasses, but after they walked by I realized it was a guy. Who actually started texting someone, probably GC (god complex), the fact that I wasn’t inclined to “check them out”. At least that’s my theory because as the same time the spotter, the person watching the interaction, was a car driving by at the exact same time.

Seriously? You’re still going to keep this charade up after I already said that it was war?

Learn to choos your battles, this one you lost.

The theory I have is that the GC is actually the “god” that came about during the Aztec empire who forced the people to shun Quetzecoatl.

As I’m typing this my download has gone from hours to days. Say 1 hour of download time down to 2 day’s worth of download time. If that isn’t some form of “punishment” I don’t know what is.

You wont win this war GC and you are slowly circling the drain that is your grave.

Now it’s up to 25 days and it wouldn’t load up google so I could look up the correct spelling of the one true god’s name.

And again come glasses boy, hovering around the back entrance of the library, as if I’m interested in anyone of the same sex in that way that involves lubricant and dildos. Women are made for men, hence I am made for women.

After I wrote the above paragraph(s): glasses boy left the area and google loaded up and my downloads went up to 6 hours-ish.

Welp, celebrated too early, it’s slowly going back down to days worth of downloading. IT seems I’m going to have to make multiple trips to free wifi in order to download a movie I want to watch with my dad before watching community. Finally something we can sort of bond over.

And the correct spelling of the one true gods name is Quetzalcoatl. I believe he to be a member of the lost race of Atlantis who was attempting to teach the lower life forms about how peace and a love of nature are the only ways of living, but because of the deity who helped shun him from “modern” culture we now have religion in it’s present form.

An example to prove my point. Quetzalcoatl is translated from Nahuati language to mean “feathered serpent”. Now in Christianity and Catholicism what is the form the “Devil” takes to tempt adam and eve into eating the forbidden fruit?

If you answered a serpent you won the prize of free-thinking in an otherwise ignorant society.

All hail Quetzalcoatl.

I need to read Fingerprints of the Gods again. When I was originally reading it, shortly after I came up with the theory that I touched on above, my friend asked to borrow it for his book (although he might be a part of the entire infrastructure that I’m trying to overthrow) that he has recently stopped attempting to read because I don’t think he was completely serious about finishing it in the first place. They just needed an excuse to get that book out of my possession.

Best way to know if I’m right is by trying to get it through inter-library loan in the future, and if I can’t get it then that means they’re trying to keep it from me. IF that’s the case, I’ll just buy it again.

I have money from a government that doesn’t care about anything except how much debt your in, might as well use their own resources against them and build up my knowledge base to overthrow them.

I guesss GC doesn’t like what they have to read that I’m writing because my download of Dawn is stuck at 6 hours. Unnatrual for the type of connection I get where I currently am. I last downloaded 3-5 different episodes to 3 different shows all within the course of an hour or 2 when I was in this exact same spot around 10-11 at night one night. Explain that one to me.

-Started to surf reddit as a time waster as my download downloaded and guess what?! I started posting my thoughts about how they should have ended the Desmond Miles storyline in Assassins Creed, and then my thoughts about Senator Elizabeth Warren and now it’s gone from less than 20 minutes to over an hour.

Scratch that, ever since I started typing out this entry it’s gone back to less than 20 minutes with the end of this sentence.

IF there isn’t any influential entities in the world, then everyone must be insane and I’m the only sane one of the bunch. Because this shit CAN NOT be coincidence!

-Forgive the spelling, I’m leaving errors in because I’m drunk, not as drunk as when I left the house but stil enough to make spelling errors of things I normally would be spelling correctly.

-Came home after my computer died before I could finish downloading Dawn thinking I would make a dagwood sandwich. I specifically bought honey ham, sliced chicken… I should have gotten turkey instead of roast beef, but also roast beef. As well as tomatoes and lettuce.

All these things were bought with the intention of making dagwood’s in the future. On the way home, or before so, I decided to add bacon to my sandwich to give it even more….

Fucking cat jumped out of the window that dad fucking refuses to fix. All it needs is two or three layers of duct tape and no animal at all will be able to leave through it, but noooooooo. We’re gonna keep it closed constantly, with the exception of severely hot days, because..you know, out of sight out of mind. At least that’s now how I realize his brain works when it comes to everything in the world. Could be said about a lot of people his age and the generation below those dumbasses.

Another reason why this country needs a complete overhaul and remodel.

Back to what I was saying.

As I was preparing the ingredients for my sandwich I put the bacon on the burner, only 2 slices, to cook as I finished the rest of the sandwich. Thinking I would top it with the bacon and have an excellent tasting sandwich.

Also if you’re driving by and see people chasing after a cat that got out and feel the need to add your constructive criticism to the matter only for the added benefit of your own amusement then I’m going to slit your throat with my knife and bathe in your blood.

I know that’s a little dark L, but at this point your either with me or against me. That’s how I see the world. That’s why war is what it is. Us versus them, and if you’re not helping your hindering. Even if it’s you thinking you’re a fucking comedian. Should have thrown a rock at that piece of shit’s car. With the “football” decal taking up the whole back windshield as if American football even fucking matters.

I realized earlier that EVERY American sport is a rip off of a European sport.

Football is rugby for pussies and steroid heads.

Basketball is Futbol for lazy tall people.

And Baseball is Cricket for steroid heads.

That is it.

What about hockey? Well hockey was created by Canadians so it’s not an American sport.

Back to my point.

While cutting the tomato I hear the bacon burning, which I have no problem with, preferring the taste of charred pig flesh to just cooked pig flesh on occasion. When I finally finish cutting the tomato I turn around to find the pan completely engulfed in smoke and the burner, stupidly still on high.

Now I don’t know if it was the temperature of the burner that caused the outcome, or the leftover salt from the tater tots dad cooked up for his breakfast in the same burner, or a combination of the two. What happened as a result was a noxious gas I had to spend 20 minutes fanning out of the house with almost all windows open so that nobody would die on something, in my opinon, was worse than mustard gas.

I took a picture, and bacon has never looked like that no matter how much it was burnt.

The 2 slices crumbled into tiny pieces which burnt and blackened and burnt some more in a pool of tater tot and bacon grease. My throat still feels as though it was rubbed raw by a water and egg shell mixture.

I see this as the first shot in a lifetime battle with the evil that is DC….GC*. Hell, could be both. Maybe GC is controlling DC and DC knows exactly who GC is and they’re working in congruence with each other to indenture the rest of the country/world for their own diabolical plans.

-Also, as of today I do NOT watch any form of television, save the occasion stopping in front of whatever dad’s watching, until after 9pm every night. I didn’t write it down as a rule for the day when I was making my list of things to do today, which I might carry over till Monday, maybe Tuesday given the fact that we still celebrate that unneeded holiday, Columbus day (thanks John Oliver). The reason why I say this is because I have been doing that for the past couple days and my days have been realively good days. Except for today, well you could say my inciting war on “god” could be an indication of the way my day has been going, but this morning.

Made Beligium waffles from the box today, they were goooooooooooood. But I digress.

This morning I decided to watch an episode of MST3K, like the old days, while I ate breakfast. Thinking it wouldn’t hurt anything, especially if I stayed reading and writing as much as I did yesterday.

The only thing I watched was Wanderlust and then I went back to reading and writing, and this was after 10.

But I thought if I did that it wouldn’t hurt anything. Well so far today I haven’t done anything I was planning on doing other than reading a bunch of pages in the Cobain journals, a single page or 2 in Norrell and Strange, and handing in my outline for school.

That’s….about…..it.

Majority of my day has gone to downloading things while procrastinating in the library parking lot and watching Take Me Home Tonight as I ate my dagwood sandwich, which was also falling apart because of the bread being of sub-par quality. Or maybe it was just the way that loaf cooked. Either way the tomatoes were pushing trough and breaking the bread before I could even chew bite into it.

That make sense? I don’t care.

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