Saturday, January 23, 2010

The Bombing of Your Stealth...

So I'm sitting here listening to Gordon Gano and the Ryans. I love his music and The Violent Femmes are pretty sweet themselves. Thanks for ripping Under the Sun for me, Ed.
When I was still in high school, while I was working at Wendy's, I met this half black/Nicaraguan girl who was into the Femmes. Apparently into me too, which was nice...
She unfortunately, apparently, had a boyfriend who realised it was apparently apparent that I was, apparently, doinking his girlfriend. Then, after a brief time together, she told me she was pregnant.
I knew this not to be true. So it was time to flee. But I always loved the Femmes, and actually saw them awhile back and posted it, and pics, to this very blog.
I know It's True But I'm Sorry to Say is one of the best songs in the world.

Do animals feel emotion? Do they feel regret?
I don't see any de-evolution in our future, so it'd be nice if someone would just put a kill switch on us. One that turns off the things that fill our heads with hope, then our bellies with sour grapes...

We saw Legion. It sucked, especially after the only thing messing with them were some fruity looking angels with bulletproof wings.
I'd more recommend this album I'm hearing right now.
I was liking it, but nothing seemed to be standing out to me until I heard Better Than You Know.
Buy this, or see him or the Femmes in concert.
You can't ask more from the dyin'...

Ha, even the angel and devil on my shoulders have left. They told me to try Mapquest instead.
Or Ask Jeeves.
After four years of sobriety, and several years of hellish descent after, I've once again taken up the mantle of posterboy for how not to live your life. My broken hand has mostly healed, though still a few months away from perfection, and seems to heal better than an internal orgal that needs no mention.
I'm just fucking mean, to myself and everyone around me.
I'm beginning to believe there is no cure. There is only being numb.

This would be a great time to be sent to war. I wouldn't care who I had to mow down just to... to... to... transfer the pain to someone else. Get it all out, tear something to shreds. It'd be even better if I could use my bare hands.
Yes, my hand will get better. The other things will take years of solitary confinement to get through...
And I will no longer break promises, especially to meinself.
I will fucking drive you all away, then I will achieve what I want. No need for your validation(my trepidation), your progress reports(my indignant retorts), your adulation(my evisceration).
The hunger in my stomach will fuel the hunger I have for perfection.
From the ties that bind.
Here's to your health.
And the bombing of your stealth...

Sunday, January 17, 2010

No One Wins in a Headbutt...

Hello everyone. How is your new year going so far?
Good, good...
Oh, mine?
So anyway, I broke my hand on New Year's and I didn't see a doctor while I was on vacation.
I thought it would heal so sue me. Now I'm waiting to get in to a specialist Wednesday. I hope they don't have to rebreak my hand. This morning I jerked my pinkie back on the door in the bathroom. I don't think it's healing on its own.
Not good.
So I've barely worked and have seen a buttload of movies. The Book of Eli, Avatar, The Blind Side, The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus, Youth in Revolt, Precious, and mostly everything has been ok, nothing special. I really liked Up in the Air and Daybreakers. Sherlock Holmes, the Chipmunks, the Morgans, and a few others have been stinkers.
Tonight I'm thinking about The Road. It looks nice and slowwwwwww, desolate and depressingly dark. I didn't even think it was coming out around here...
As far as what I'm going to do or how long I'm going to be off, I have no idea yet. I'll probably be up to no good, you can bet on that.
I have, however, stopped drinking and smoking. I've stayed pretty strong since day one of 2010 so wish me luck. I still chew tobacco, but not nearly as much and am hoping to wean myself away from it.
Also, lots of exercise. I've been trying to snack only on fruits and vegetables, not much meat other than fish and chicken breast oven baked, and lots of fiber.
That has been the hardest, not cheating or eating late at night. I need to get regular sleep hours as well. Since my hand is broken, I will run and work out my legs until I can play catch up with my upperbody. At least it'll be easier with no flab hanging off me.
I tried to see how much weight I could gain before 2010, but only got up to 191. I think I'm hanging around 180 at the moment. I want to get superlean at about 150-160, then add nothing but muscle after that and stay around 180-190.
Once I start turning on the body sculpting part, I won't put so much into running myself to death like before. That, my lack of eating enough meat or drinking enough water, added to really poor sleeping habits is what killed me in the end. Not to mention other things heaping stress on top of that...

Pride is a dangerous monster. It is easy to feel invincible when heads turn at your every passing.
Oblivious to the warning signs and barricades plowed over, you dunder onwards toward ever nearing doom.
Then you wake up dazed. You've been in a coma for months, possibly years.
You can take the face warmer off now, nurse.
Dreams and plans have turned to dust and blown away.
The complete spectrum of emotions has been run through, you've a sneaking suspicion that it may have been worse than just being all in vain.
Imagine if Buck Rogers had been found, but no so far in the future as he had. Just far enough ahead so that everyone moved on, forgot about him. Found a new life, said to hell with his reckless ass.
Does the dream, like the finish line in a marathon, not hurt so much if you quit after the first mile as opposed to being just so... nearly within reach, yet not so?
At least if you woke up in the 25th century, you could get the shock out of the way from the get go.
To coexist with the beautifully blinding sun, yet to never feel its soothing warmth nor bathe in its light...
To be consumed by darkness instead?
At least there won't be any more crazed, drunken ranting for a very long time.
I never read The Catcher in the Rye, but I read alot about it last night. I'm thinking about finding it. Don't worry, no kooky plans here. They said it's been copied in alot of movies, many of which I liked. I was born in 1972, so I don't see why it would've been banned in the 80's or anything. They made us read things like H.G. Wells and Mark Twain. Although The Time Machine and The Invisible Man were influential in my interests, this book around age 14-16 might have rocked my world.
Amazingly, my favorite book as a kid was Battlefield Earth by L. Ron Hubbard. I still think it's a work of genius that was atrociously dishonored by a movie. If someone ever really tried to make that... WOW.
I also read Stephen King from my older sister, who we all thought was some kind of witch. You have no idea how many times she tried to kill me, even as a baby. But that is another story.
I liked IT, and would love to read The Stand. Most of his stuff was crap though.
As a teen I moved to graphic sci fi/ fantasy, via AD&D Forgotten Realms. Call me a book nerd, but alot of those were #1 best sellers. I also got into alot of Jim Morrison poetry. Wierd.
Now I read anything I can get my hands on. I haven't read anything in a long time, the only thing I have in the bathroom is my handheld Yahtzee game. I'm getting tired of it. Time to find this Catcher in the Rye feller...
So anyway, there's more in this little head but I fear to tread there on this blog. I doubt anyone reads this, but still...
I feels nekked.
If I started another blog, I'd just kill it in anguish like the other.
But regardless what happens in this silly little soap opera called life, remember this:
At some point the zombie horde will sweep across the planet anyway, and the less weight dragging you down the better. They usually make you go back and rescue their poor little puppy or something else sickeningly cute and idiotically innocent.
That's when you get bit. Do you chop off that limb, or do you bind it in hopes of a miracle cure?
One's a surefire way to save yourself excruciatingly fruitless suffering in the long/short run, but you ain't gonna be doing any sweeet Eddie Van Halen licks ever again.
The other is, well... what it is. You drag your semi bloody ass around trying to get right, and in the end you still succumb.
Hmmmm, seems an easy enough decision.
How come I never see any footprints heading down that path...?

Friday, January 01, 2010

Just Us...

I think I'm dying inside...
Monetize, this neatly packaged bird has flown.
Fuck you, world.
Fuck you, world.

Push, Push, Push...

FFF. Tonight I will shed alot of things. I'm tired of feeling pain all the time. I'm tired of fighting it all. I will win and fuck everyone in the process. By the way, I think I broke my hand. Again...
I'm seriously thinking aboiut starting it all over online and forgetting about all this nonsense. And I will say I'm sorry to everyone I've hurt. I never meant for this to be as it is now. You think I wanted to be sitting here wondering WTF?
It is amazing that the worst recession since the last big one in the 30's wiped me out. All of my plans, all of my fucking dreams, they are all gone. Even my daydreams are fucking nightmares. I'm tired of seeing how the world lives its life, it is a fucking farce. Every dream I had crumbled. Every life I've lived has went to shit. Help. I've fallen and I won't give up, lol. I just gotta win, damn it. I just gotta...