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Saturday, October 26, 2013

50 shades of gay

I've been sort of busy lately. Oh well! How are you, you sexy little weirdos? Are you getting your squirrely bits all good and sloppy? Taking the purple-helmeted warrior out to battle? Just make sure to stow away some time for big things, whatever your big things are. It's scary spooky season. Do creepy things. Make someone uncomfortable. Go ahead.

I think it's so bizarre that people don't notice the things I notice. I mean, it's not like it's hard or anything. They're right there. Staring you in the face. All the time. How could you miss them? When I talk to people, they remember me. It's not that I'm really all that memorable, but what I say is. When I point out, for example, how more and more gender roles are being reversed these days, people start to look at things in a different light. Kind of like you're doing right now. Just look how many guys wear girl clothes when given even the flimsiest pretenses to do so. Or girls who outdrink men and quite literally kick their asses. Need more? Fine. Guys ordering traditionally girly food like salads and fruit cups while out to eat with chicks who order traditionally manly food like a bacon double cheeseburger or a big bloody steak.. Guys whining like little bitches about their emotions and broken-hearts. Women who don't want to be serenaded, but fucked, hard. Guys pussing out, leaving their girls to stand up for them. The roles have switched. Most women are more manly than most of these annoying little pricks. I personally love that women are way more badass today than they ever were before. Hell yeah, girls! Bring it on!

And guys, please shut the fuck up and grow a pair. Quit being so goddamn insecure or I'm going to kick you in the fucking nuts. I'm more of a man in my 110 lbs of skin and bone than you 250 pound bodybuilding bitches.

Generally when I speak like this in public, at least one guy tries to stand up for himself. So I challenge him to a fight, and he makes excuses and tries to back away. This is when I start insulting his whore of a mother and his puny little penis. Still nothing. I'll push him, throw shit at him and still he refuses to fight. Have you seen me? I look like someone your grandmother could take. These guys who completely outmatch me are too scared to prove it. Know why? Because inside they are nothing but scared little children looking for a mother in a lover. I'm a man, and I want a woman as my equal.

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

No Frills. Part 3. The Part where I get stoned.

I did something pretty recently. Since I have no idea what an actual blog is, or looks like, I decided to check out a few. What a load of crap most of them are. All of the ones I saw had themes and fancy pictures and no substance. It was eye-catching, but ultimately disappointing. Now I understand why blog is an "ugh" word. Just hearing it leaves a bad taste in your mouth. I wasn't amused, intrigued, or entertained by any of them. I'm glad I decided to do what I always do and disregard the intended purposes of things and make it my own. I mean, look at this shit. No pictures, no fancy format, no boorish attempt to be catchy. I just write. I write and fuck it, if you want to read, then read. I'm not stopping you. I'm not even really promoting it. I just share a post after I've done one. One time, I messaged a handful of people and suggested they check it out. It doubled my readers. That's about all the promoting I plan on doing.
    I'm happy you are reading this. All of you. It's nice to feel appreciated. So thanks. I try to give nothing but substance. It's not showy. Yet, I like to think it's interesting. Even when I don't actually feel like writing but am trying to get out a story anyway, like this one. Here's part 3.

The Finch's nourished themselves on fruit from the nearby trees. They never imagined there could be a place like this down in the antarctic. All of the flora and fauna they encountered resembled what they've seen up north, but it was all somehow different. A peculiar striping of the fur, an odd leafing, most bizarre was this blue and white dog-like creature with tiny horns.
(Alright, I'm bored. I'm going to get really stoned, then finish this.)
So these two dumbasses were wandering around the antarctic jungle. Yes, the antarctic jungle. How is that possible? It's not, but fuck it's cool. They were all excited to explore this new land. That was, until John sees a figure in the distance. A massive bastard he was. I'm talking like King Kong size. He sees this dark shadow in the distance and nearly shits himself. He's all, "Fuck, I didn't sign up for no King Kong shit." And his wife is like, "This is fucking stupid. Let's get the hell out of here."
So they get the hell out of there. As they're running away like bitches, they see a dude fighting a tiger. They ask, "Hey, guy? Why are you fighting a tiger? Are you an idiot? It's a fucking tiger."
And he's yelling, "Help me, you dicks!" So they help him, but he gets all hurt. They take care of him and he's super gracious. He tells them he wants to take them to his village where they will be safe, and maybe could possibly somehow find a way home. On their way, they see that King Kong bastard again and run for the hills leaving their guide behind. Now they're all scared and freaking out. They survive for a few days in the wild being badasses, but that shadow keeps popping up. It's like it's following them or something.
   One day it pops up right in front of them. They turn to run, but there's another, and another, and another. They're all over. They're getting closer. Uh oh!
   They faint like a bunch of pussies. The King Kongs take them. Later, the Finch's wake up. Turns out the Kings Kongs are totally cool and not monkeys at all. They're just extremely gigantic people. Little buddy is there. Turns out he's only 34 and considered a baby by the others. Some of the extra huge ones have been alive since before Jesus was made up by the Flavians to keep the violent Messianic Jews under their control and paying taxes. Everybody in the village is pretty chill until they discover the Finch's are foreigners. The giants immediately bring them to the little humans from the port. Now captured, the couple is explained what's happening in true James Bond bad guy style.
    Turns out people aren't supposed to shrivel up and die. They naturally keep growing. It's these assholes who are slowly poisoning us so we die. They say it's to prevent over-population, or keep people stupid, or weak, or whatever. It doesn't matter because the Finch's are then shot in the head and dumped in the sea.


Sunday, October 13, 2013

That story I started last post Part Deux

The pair of adventure-crazed adrenaline junkies followed the barge to a port on the coast of Antarctica. The barge was unloading large crates by the time they caught up to it. In the distance they could see that their presence was finally noticed. Men could be seen pointing in their direction, then hurrying off in different directions. "It's about time." says John Finch. "We've been behind them for two damn days" He then stands high up on the bow and waves. His greeting is returned, with cannon fire.
   The sailboat doesn't stand a chance. The sea swallows it, and the Finches. The secret remains safe. If it got out, millions would be slaughtered in the ensuing chaos. It was a necessary loss. Small craft are sent out to make sure there were no survivors. Teams begin to seek out the ship and who sent it. No one must ever know what is housed here. Anyone possessing even the slightest knowledge of this place or it's contents must be eliminated. No exceptions. It is crucial to the survival of the entire human race.
   After an indeterminable amount of time Kait Finch wakes on an icy embankment. Her body is numb with cold. She finds John and wakes him. They're delirious and lost. All around them a blanket of white obscures the landscape. Out of a mad desire to survive even this, the couple wander stumbling through the cold, determined to find anything, to live just a bit longer if anything. They find a cave in the side of a cliff. They crawl inside and rest their aching legs. They sit together knowing death is not far off. They exchange words of love and of having not one single regret. They lived according to their principles 100%.
    Just as it seems all hope is lost, they hear strange noises emanating from deep inside the cave. "You up for one last adventure, Honey?" asks Kait. "You know it." laughs John. Struggling with effort, the couple rise to their feet and make their way deeper inside the cave. The temperature rises consistently as they travel. Eventually, they strip off most of their heavy frozen clothes. They come across some stalactites dripping water and stand under them mouths open. Some of their strength returns with the meager hydration.
    They continue deeper into the bizarre cave. John notices a light at the end of one tunnel. He and his wife can't believe their eyes. Reaching the aperture, the cave opens up revealing a lush jungle. The Finch's fall to their knees in disbelief. Kait is the first back to her feet. The only thing she can think to say is,  "I've seen just about everything, but what the fuck is this?"

Saturday, October 12, 2013

They are driving me insane

Since day one at the loft, my roommates make me feel like I'm schizophrenic. Not like openly accusing me of being a madman or anything, but because they can be sneaky bastards. They mess with my personal things and pretend to be unaware when confronted. Small things like disappearing shampoo, roaming toothpaste tubes, self-eating food, self-shattering glass, vanishing rent money. It leaves you asking, "If they didn't do it, then who? Did I do it and forget? Am I losing my shit?" These things are definitely happening. I am a logical person. Someone must be doing this. I have been called crazy for my entire life, so years of subtle conditioning made me wonder. How can one know if one has gone off the deep end? One cannot diagnose oneself with the diseased organ. Could I be sleep-eating? Could I be losing large chunks of time? What could I be doing during these blackouts? What if I do something weird? What if I hurt someone? It's scary. Logic dictated my next course of action. I simply took all of my possessions and gathered them up into my room. The problems stopped then. Fuck them for screwing with me! I was seriously worried for a while.


We all know the story. You are born, you grow bigger and stronger, and that strength eventually fades. You shrink, and you die. But what if this is wrong? What if this isn't natural? What if we are all being manipulated into believing this because it is all we know?

On an isolated land deep in the Antarctic lies a land of lush fields and dark jungles. Since it's discovery it has been kept secret. Only top world leaders know of its existence. There lies a shaky truce between us and the inhabitants of this land. These people have lived undisturbed for millennia. Our people stay out. Their people stay in. That is the truce. That is what keeps the secret.

Mr. and Mrs. Finch are modern day daredevils and adventurers. They met on a climb up Everest and have been risking life and limb together ever since. They were in the middle of a race around the world. Just the two of them on a sailboat with no navigational equipment except the sky above. A squall threw them off-course south of Australia. When the storm had passed, they did a damage assessment. The boat held superbly, but a cache of supplies was tossed overboard. They would need to stop soon to resupply. Spotting a passing barge, they altered course to intercept it. They were planning to ask for or buy some food from them to hold them over until they reached shore. They hailed the ship but received no response. In fact, the barge seemed as if it were speeding up to get away from them. They kept following under the assumption the crew aboard did not spot them. They trailed it south hoping to catch up. Where could the ship be going? There is nothing south but Antarctica. The Finches, thrilled by a sense of adventure followed onward.

Growing Up AKA The Process of Weeding Out

I'm sure a lot of you will not agree with me on this, and may get upset by what I'm about to say, but it's my opinion and my blog! Don't like it? Then skip ahead to the story. No one is stopping you.

I'm watching Hellraiser right now and it's a little distracting, but here we go anyway. When we are children, we all have dreams and ambitions. We all want to be someone. We all want to do something. As we get a bit older, those dreams become more concrete. Some of us want to be musicians, or astronauts, or writers, or what have you. Some just want to explore, to see the world. Everybody's got something. Nobody wants to be nothing.
    The reality is often much different then we had imagined, the struggle too great. The older we get, the harder it is to keep holding on. There is simply never enough money, never enough time, never enough energy. We keep waiting for that easy break that will send us on the fast track to our dreams. Hey, hate to break the news to you, but that is probably not going to happen. If you keep waiting around for the right moment, it's never going to come. You could wait all your life for the bills to be settled, debts to be paid, classes to be finished... and you will. You'll just keep on making excuses and little postponements til the day you die a nobody.
    I am 25 and when I look around me, I see losers. I see people who have completely given up. Slowly through the years, I've watched musicians stop playing, painters stop painting, writers stop writing. People who once only spoke of travel, have yet to leave the state. It's pretty, well, pathetic.
   More and more around me, people are joining the military, having kids, getting married. Are these the dreams you talked so much about all your life? For a few, the answer actually is yes, so if you're one of those, congratulations! You did it! I'm happy for you. But being a government dog, a single parent, or stuck with someone you can't stand anymore, aren't the things I remember you speaking of with stars in your eyes and hope in your heart.
    Hellraiser fucking rules.
I hope you enjoy your second-place prizes. It's the ones with true grit, with real determination, and with pure strength of spirit who get what they really want. It's those of us who are still fighting, still struggling through it all that will get the big payoff. It is with hard work that you achieve. It is by reaching for your dreams despite lack of funds, time, and energy that get you to them. Everyone talks the talk while they are young. It is years of disappointment and let-downs that separate the wanna-bes from the true believers.
    You must ask yourself if you want it badly enough to forgo sleep, comfort, and even love. Do you have what it takes to become what you've always wanted to be? Did you keep your eye on the prize, or did you settle?


This is a story all about how my life got flipped, turned upside-down. I'd to to take a minute just sit right there. I'll tell you how I became the prince of  

Just kidding.

Hello there. My name is Jake Robinson. I was a scientist at the Hayden Planetarium at the American Museum of Natural History in New York. Now I'm a skyentist in basically the same place. You see, I was in Switzerland attending a lecture on advanced thermodynamics in relation to new technological advancements in electric-based rocket propulsion systems. At this point in time, we still require a combination of the two in order to reach escape velocity. The lecture detailed specifics on how and when combustion is best applied during launch and flight. Dr. West's frustration with current solar energy collectors really hit home for me. Until higher energy conversion efficiency is achieved, it's still an impractical solution to reducing craft weight. But oh, I apologize. I did not mean to bore you with my old life. You can learn all about that on your own. I'm here to explain something completely different. The membrane will only be porous for a short while. I have no time to waste.
   Being nearer the vicinity of the Large Hadron Collider at CERN Laboratories than I will likely be for some time, I decided to have a visit. I phoned a friend who was currently employed there and he offered to give me a tour of the facility. It is even beyond my understanding, but you must listen. I have no time left. A collision released a burst of energy never seen before as I'm sure you've heard about by now. Do not worry. Dr. Halsey and I are alive and well. The energy tore a hole in the fabric of the universe! We .... transported..... parallel... multi.... has finally been confirmed!!! Do... ou hear?! It's real! ...the cars are made of vegetables..... A tomato with..... just.... drove by. ..... world peac... that easy.... all music.... by farts! It all sounds like farts! The reason is.... see?! That's why.... on Earth. You must listen!............................ AIRSNAKE!----------

Fuck Cars.

I fucking hate cars! So little innovation in such a great length of time. Cars are the biggest bunch of bullshit. Super fucking expensive and all you get is a giant piece of crap. Let's just take a second to look at these ridiculous lumps of trash. First of all, these dumb things run on a finite fuel source that is both inefficient in converting that energy, but pollutes the fuck out of the environment. A full tank doesn't even go that far and gas is as expensive as all hell. Secondly, these massive loads of crap are supported by four strips of rubber filled with air. How in the fuck is that intelligent? Rubber? Pliable, shred-able, stab-able, rubber? How the fuck is that supposed to last? Drive over a nail, and you're tire becomes instantly useless, thus the entire car becomes useless. Plus, any fucker with the urge can stab them and fuck your whole shit up with barely any effort. And the shitty rubber strips are filled with air! Motherfucking air! How is that safe?! 2 tons of metal zooming down the street at 50MPH on four fucking balloons! Great idea, asshole. Hey, here's an idea. Why don't we start building our houses on foundations made of fucking styrofoam? And every year we pay to jam some more underneath in order to keep our houses standing up straight?
   Here's another awesome thing. The braking system for these things are two flat rocks on either side of the wheel that pinch it and the resulting friction expends energy from it's momentum. Two fucking rocks literally squeeze the wheels to make them stop. That is just so damn technical. Come on, it's 2013. Every part of the car is weak and easily worn. Shit breaks on the slightest of bumps. You are constantly replacing some stupid thing or other. It never ends. You spend craploads of money just to get the thing, and all it does is constantly suck the money out of your account. All this just so you can get from point A to point B. Why? Why don't we just get rid of all the useless fucking things already and have buses and shit that will take you anywhere quickly? Why are we still driving ourselves at all?
    As you all know, each crapmobile is equipped with 2 giant lights in the front. This is so you can see where you are going at night. Great idea, until you have hundreds of these fucking things on every street. These lights have 2 settings: annoying as fuck, and paralyzingly blinding. Why don't the streets light up as you drive down them? It would save power and increase road safety. And speaking of road safety, WHY AREN'T ALL CARS FACTORY EQUIPPED WITH BREATHALYZER STARTERS? How many people a year are killed by drunk drivers? You don't want people to drive drunk? Here's your fucking solution you money-grubbing pricks. I have barely even scratched the surface on my total, all encompassing, passionate hatred of automobiles, but I'm tired, and I'm guessing you've had enough. You get the idea, I'm sure. FUCK CARS.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013


We're a strange breed, you know. A very rare and strange breed; us romantics.We generally don't have long shelf-lives. We're disaster prone. We risk it all for our beliefs. We die fighting for our love. We openly oppose insurmountable forces. We're reckless, foolish, thick-headed, obstinate, stubborn, spontaneous, unrealistic, emotional, over-zealous, overreacting, dramatic, fickle, impractical, dreamers. Yet, we are beauty, and love, and honor, and courage. Our faults run as deep as our good qualities reach high. We are treacherous territory indeed. It is our boundless love which separates us from the rest of mankind. We love too strongly, we care too deeply. We are the stuff of poetry and fairy tales. We are sullen and dark. We speak of terrible things. We liken ourselves to the devil, while at the same time, we inspire those around us. We lose sight of this easily. This is our normal state of being. Others long to be us. Others fear us. Their world is singularly focused on our ways. They use our words, our art, and our actions to give themselves meaning in this world. They glorify us. They make demons of us. They hold contradictory thoughts of us, usually switching from one to the other at the drop of a hat. This is because they do not understand us, nor will they ever. They look to each other for signs of how to react to us. Only a romantic understands a romantic. The rest stew in their jealousy, looking for any excuse to prove our ill intent, or to falsify our accomplishments in a mistaken effort to expose our lives and hearts for the farce that they wish them to be while solidifying their own belief that their hum-drum way of seeing things and of living, is the correct choice. They fear. They fear to be like us. They fear to let themselves go and take a risk. They hide away safely in their shell of anonymity and lunge at the slightest opportunity to force us to do the same. They fear to be us, and they use us as examples of the danger of being free, of being oneself through and through, of wearing your heart on your sleeve, by making hyperbole of our slightest misfortunes.

But do not forget, no matter what may happen, we may never change our lot.


I once knew a man with a fire in his belly. His back was straight and his jaw was square. He'd come and go as he pleased. He never did anything he did not like. He did not show distaste for things that did not interest him. He was simply indifferent of them. He'd leave one night without a word, and return with stories of grandeur. He'd hop on trains and stroll aimlessly into the night.
    I asked him once how he chose his path. He didn't, were his only words. He left on a whim and returned on another. He had no job or place of residence, yet he was always provided for. He seldom went hungry and his clothes were all new. I envied this man deeply.
    At night people from town would gather round. They'd listen to his tales and hoot and holler at his boldness. He seemed to have no fear. No matter where he went or what he did he always came out on top. His bar tab was always nil as those who listened always offered the next round.
    When he was gone, his name was still spoken. Theories of what his currents adventures would hold would be exchanged. He held us all in the palm of his hand, yet at the same time, he acted with a carefree air. No amount of money or lucrative prospect lured him. It was as if he were untouchable. He was the most powerful man I'd ever known. His laugh was strong, his muscles tight, the ground beneath him seemed to shake. His voice was loud and his mind was keen. I came to believe he was more than just a man. That he was an ancient Greek hero come to life. I longed for what he's always had. Around him, my stability felt claustrophobic. My routine seemed not worth the bother. By comparison, I felt utterly insignificant and boring.
    He took to me for some reason; always seeking me out of the crowd. He confided in me his secrets. He said I truly listened whilst the others only heard what they wanted to hear, but it was I who heard his soul. I idolized him for many years. His charm was contagious. Then one cold autumn night, with the rattle of leaves filling the air he took me aside. He drank heavily and straight from the bottle. He swaggered back and forth even as he sat. He looked infinitely worn and tired. He told me a story. A story from long long ago. Of a girl he once loved, and would love forevermore. Her skin held the sunlight. Her eyes held the world. Her voice was like music from a land long forgotten. Her kindness was abounding. Small animals followed her trail. Her touch was the softest, and her kisses like wine. He was drunk off her smiles, and was with her all the time. But she cast off his love and left him behind, to wallow in madness and fortified wine. Not a day goes by when he doesn't think of her. Her memory is like ice. It freezes his insides, and leaves him longing to die.
   I stopped my envy then. Each day for him is a hell. He was found in the morning hanging. In his hand, a note of farewell.

Monday, October 7, 2013


I am officially going to be the house band at the Asbury Lanes once a month. Basically, sexy ladies will be on stage doing sexy things while overweight middle-aged creepers draw them and take pictures of them. I will be in my own little corner just drumming away completely oblivious of everything. I'm hoping money and free drinks will be included in some way. I'm a fan of those things when they are for me to have. I hope house band does well. I hope we get booked for other events. I hope I can bake less and jam more. Then I can write more, too. Also I'll be way less suicidal, which is a good thing.

In other news, I've been having some really great conversations lately. This is rare for me. Usually when I talk to people I get very bored very quickly and the whole time they're talking I'm trying to will them away with my mind. These interesting conversations have melded together in my head to become a new exciting story for all of you to enjoy. Hooray! Good for you. I'd like to thank Amy in particular. She is one of my few fans that always encourages me to be a better, more productive writer. Not by bluntly saying it, but by being genuinely excited by my work. That's the best motivation you can get. I saw her at Sam and Mike's wedding, which was one of the best wedding ever. I also discovered one of my readers that night. Hi Chrissy! I'm talking to you via my blog! Is that weird? I hope so! But if it wasn't for Amy making the connection with the crazy shit we were talking about and writing a story, I probably would not have had that epiphany a few days later. I guess I have a lot of people to thank then. The premise comes from a real life project that Sarah told me about at Toast. The bulk was inspired by all the fucked up sci-fi and drama movies that I've been vegging out to lately thanks to the Netflix password provided by my cuddly, lovable singer Jill. The idea for a romantic interest for the main character popped up while talking to Marni. I often forget about relationships and inter-people-thinginess in my work. Honestly, I don't give a fuck about em and forget that people actually do those things, and like, that's normal behavior or whatever. She's really into how people relate to one another, thus a seed was planted yet again. Who else? I don't know I'm sure there's more, but I'm lazy and remembering is making my brain hurt. Hey, I just realized that all the people I thanked are girls. I guess it's only fitting. Women inspire art, men create it.

One more thing before storytime. The other night I was drunk, getting stoned, and playing Resident Evil 5 at like 3 am, when two really hot chicks just up and walked in my room wearing nothing but bra and panties, gave me a lap dance and walked right back out. I know, weird.

Story now!

This is not THAT story. THAT story will come later. THIS story is about how dating would be if I was world ruler of minds. A man is sitting at a bar. There is a band playing tonight. It's a divey little spot. Cheap drinks, good people. When the band starts playing, everyone puts down their books and dances all around the place, arms flailing, legs kicking. Spinning and prancing are highly encouraged. Everyone is being silly and some people are naked and letting their dirty bits flap in the wind. (Did I mention I'm world ruler of minds in this story?) The drinks are large and pretty colors for no reason at all. Our man accidentally spills his drink. He promptly goes to the bartender, asks for a rag and some spray, cleans it up, and returns the items to the boozenater. He turns around and sees a beautiful woman. Not missing a beat, he walks right up to her and says, "Hello! You're beautiful. Wanna be my girlfriend?" She replies just as cheerfully, "Sure! You like lasers?"
"I LOVE lasers!" he says.
They leave the bar and walk to the beach. When they get there, they have an epic laser sword fight. After that she falls into him and they lay splayed out in the sand making out. They look up from their tongue-fight to see that the sun is rising. Our man rises and holds his woman in his arms. They stand swaying gently. He gives her a soft kiss on her cheek and says, "Take me to a dream, and never let me leave. Close my eyes to help me see, a land where all are free."
"But we're already here, silly." she giggles, "Get your mind out of the old world. There's no fear here. No hatred, no greed. And right now, you're here with me, on this lovely beach. And soon, you'll be with me in your bed. So let's go wash off this sand."
The two walk off the beach and back into town. The world fades in a wash of smoke as the dream disappears back to the fantasy land which bore it. Way back. Far out of the reach of reality. Where it lingers, just barely visible, to a place where only a few can glimpse it. Glimpse it, but no more.

Thursday, October 3, 2013

I've been indulging my dark side lately

I'm loving it. It's absolutely beautiful. The only real problem with this is I'm supposed to perform some of my writing tonight. People always go nuts for and ask for my humorous stuff, which is fine, but I'm in the mood to read something that will have people throwing themselves into traffic by the time I finish. I want to defile the minds of complete strangers. I want uncomfortable shuffling! I want nervous glances! I want to imbue the feeling of absolute desolation into the souls of men! This probably will not happen. Insults, strangeness, and hidden morals are guaranteed, but I doubt I'll violate the fragile glass structure their piece of mind rests upon. I'll save that for next time. I want them to love me and be excited for my next performance. Then I'll unleash flaming hellfire upon them! I find it is much more effective when they're not expecting it. As the misery and hopelessness trudges on, I want them waiting every second for the inevitable joke, which will not come.

Just in case you were wondering just how dark I can get. Here, read this.There is beauty in this tragedy, but I warn you, what you are about to read might seriously make you very unnerved. I wrote this while brainstorming for new, interesting characters. When I write, I generally invent a character and backstory, then write as that character and view the results.  I wanted to create a psychopath. I did.


I've given up pretending. I'm wildly insane. To truly admit it fills my heart with dread. I can't know what's real anymore. My senses lie to me. My mind tricks me. All is smoke and mirror. There is no up or down. It's all a mess. I lock myself away. I hide from the world. I am embarrassed to be in it. I want to disappear.

I have never known a loving caress. I have never shown fear. I openly hate everyone and everything I see. I walk alone, as I always have. I have become strong, too strong perhaps. I madly search for the one thing I desire. Yet when I get close I throw it all away. I hate it. I hate to want it. I hate to need it. I hate you. I hate me.

I purposefully make myself out to be awkward and boring. I don't want your pity. I despise your attention. Go away. Go away and take everything with you. I long for the void. In the void I was free. Time was lost. My life evaporated into nothingness. I had no self, no desire, no sorrow. I was one with the void. Empty and shapeless. In time, it all fades. I've seen time itself from start to finish. Nothing new will ever happen. All physical existence is a joke waiting to end.

I spend all my time in my room staring into my laptop expecting to see something significant. I never do. I live in dreams. The world holds nothing for me but pain. You are all thieves, liars, and villains. I am unable to feel safe out there. All that lies outside is danger. Greedy beasts that wear masks and costumes. You read from your scripts and you play your roles. Fuck you. I've glimpsed Truth. I see your games and I hate you for it. Out there the only law is selfishness. Everything is for you and nothing is for others. You honestly make me sick.

I am searching for something of substance. Something real and long-lasting. Too quickly your gains fade away. Your lust for momentary pleasure is insatiable. You are trapped by them. Your games will never end. You shall die an empty child who's superficial fun left nothing but sorrow and longing.

I have years of progress on you. I began to change early. My tormentors made sure of that. In retrospect, I realize my innocence was too pure for this world. My strength of will only served to fortify my noble beliefs. I refused to lie and to attack. I honestly wanted peace, love, and happiness for everyone. My love was boundless. I'd have given my life to bring that happiness to you all.

But you fooled me, you used me, you tortured me. I was without ally in this den of wolves. I suffered in silence. I ached greatly. Yet I persisted to follow the righteous path.

In time, I lost all but a glimmer of hope. Could you people really be saved? Did you even want to? Do you even deserve it?


My hatred only grew. It grew to unbearable levels. I must have been 6 or 7 when I had my first fantasy about mutilating and killing those around me. I'd revel in my dreams which I began having 20 or 30 times a day. Oh how sweet it would be! I grew fond of a particular musing early on. In my daydream, I would sit awake until everyone had fallen asleep. Then I would creep up on them silently. I'd stand beside their bed smiling. I would do this nightly. Once I was sure they would not awaken, I'd grab the baseball bat out from the garage and place it in my room. Now for this to work I would need to eliminate those of greatest threat. I would grab a kitchen knife and slit my father's throat. While he was bleeding out, I'd retreat to my room. When my mother became hysteric, the others would proceed to wake up. Now because of the setup, everyone else would have to pass by my room to see what was happening.

My brother being the oldest, would rush out first. As soon as he came passed my door I'd strike him down with the baseball bat. I wouldn't stop until he stopped moving. Then to my mother, she would already be on the attack, but a cute face and , "Please don't hurt me, mommy" would give me enough time to knock her down the stairs. I'd follow her with the knife, if need be.

After that, all that would be left are my little brothers and sisters. I couldn't let them go. They would tell someone. I needed as much time as I could get for what needed to be done. I'd gather their bodies in one room. I'd close off the rest of the house and disconnect the phones.

Those who were still breathing were the unlucky ones, my experiments. I've always wondered what people looked like on the inside. So I'd start by skinning them. It'd have to be a slow process. They needed to be alive and if they passed out, I'd have to stop and start again when they awoke.

Then I'd begin removing small appendages and peeling the meat from their bones. After that it got a little blurry. Some ideas were to remove parts from one person and stick them onto another to see if they'd still work. Another involved sharp skewers... I wanted to create physical pain equal to my mental pain. I began to wonder if it was even possible...

After that I'd kill any available targets until I was caught. No one would suspect a small boy. Plus the killings would be random, making it much harder on my pursuers. If and when I was caught I'd cry and I would lie. I'd pull all the tricks to get out of it. A jury wouldn't dare touch me.

Then I wondered what would happen to me. Probably the loony bin. I might get out eventually but do I want to take that chance? Would I give up my freedom for revenge? I'd never fall in love, start a family, or have a normal life. I'd never travel or try new things. It would be the end. Was I ready to end it so soon? No one would treat me normally again. no one could love me...

Then I began wondering what would happen to me. Not my body, but me.

What if there is judgment in the afterlife? Is suicide a one-way ticket to hell? And what about murder for that matter? Where my crimes forgivable? Is there a god? What does he think of me? Did he make me this way on purpose? Am I the hand of god? or the devil? Could I be possessed? Am I evil? What is evil? What is death?

Question upon question filled my head. I was so enraptured by these questions. So interested with these riddles, that my plans for mass murder were put aside. I actually enjoyed something for once. My head was finally clear of the voices. I felt better.

And so I began my intellectual journey...

Yeah... I know.

But I gave you fair warning.

I've often thought of finishing his story, but it's kind of hard to write. I might add him into the background of another story. Maybe the Revolutionary Road mock-up. He's definitely a powerful character. I'm sure some fucked up individual would be all about this crazy fuck.

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

I really want to play videogames right now, but...

I haven't written anything in here for 2 days (Bones Time or BT) and if I put it off again it could start a viscous downward spiral of procrastination. I convinced myself into writing this by goading me with wine. I told me that I would only give me wine if I sat down and wrote this for me. So here I am, slowly getting sloppy wine drunk and behind the wheel of a computer. Nothing says "rebel" like drunken blogging.

I've recently discovered a few of my readers. Yes, YOU. (that was weird, wasn't it?) You're good people so I'll stop eschewing pure hatred in your direction... for now.

I forgot what I was going to say...
So I'll say this:

Sometimes I like to leave notes for my future self. Like a time capsule of personality. Sometimes future me forgets what it was like to be present me and he can use a reminder because he's a forgetful bastard. You should also do this. It's fun and you can't go back and do it again, so the first time is like all you got. Don't blame me if ten years from now you wish you had a cute letter form yourself at this age. You have been warned.

Idk what else to say. Someone gave me a good idea to write something about doing drugs in space. That's a good idea. it combines two of my favorite things: drugs, and space. I hope I do this one day.

I'm not going to write a new story today. I'm drunk and I want to play videogames. It's my day off and I don't have anywhere to be, so meah.

Why I Hate

Now it’s no secret that I hate everyone. You people are always asking me why that is. Well let me explain. First, you need to gain perspective.

Circumstance. The implications will melt your brain if you let it. Have you ever wondered what life would be like if you were born blind, for instance? That your one and only life would be a blind one? It could have easily have been you instead of the other guy. Or born with a rare disease, or Siamese? To have been born 300 years ago and lived through that timeline, or a thousand years into the future? A different race, nationality, height, weight, gender, appearance…? There are people different than you, just look around, and that tiny individual perspective is all they’ll ever truly know of life. Have you ever tried to understand that an unimaginable amount of insanely specific circumstances are what you owe your life to? Everything that you are. Had your great-great grandfather not have decided to go to a bar one Saturday night, wearing what he wore, gotten there when he did, and said what he said, you could easily have never existed. The odds of you existing as you are right now are impossible. It is quite literally a miracle. To quote Alan Moore, “…you are life, rarer than a quark and unpredictable beyond the dreams of Heisenberg…”

Life. You have defied the odds and literally achieved the impossible. So how, you ask, can I hate such spectacular miracles? Easily.

Here you are. You’ve done it. Life is whatever you make of it. And how do you spend it? You waste it! On this thing you call living. This big broken thing. This rat race, this quest for money and power, this obsession with pleasure and entertainment. What the hell is wrong with you? You are given the single most precious thing in all the multiverse and you spend it being lazy, ignorant, in fear and hatred of others, and being stupid? And you ask me how I can hate people who ignore the frontiers of science and make a mockery of art? Fuck you.

PS I lied. hehehe