I almost cried today

but I didn't. It's been over 2 years since last I did. I don't plan on doing that any time soon. I'm not that down yet. You can't break me that easily.

I was just sitting there thinking. Thinking about all the fucked up shit I not only survived, but conquered. Thinking about how I've always been betrayed by those I loved most. Thinking about how it was the one's I thought I could always count on that left me up shit-creek without a paddle. Thinking about how situations which I had no involvement in whatsoever, somehow blew up in my face and left me with another few thousand in losses. I'm cold. I do not have heat. I work over 70 hours a week just to weather the blows I've received this past few years. I have close to nothing, and what I do have is defective and falling apart. I'm close with no one. I am alone. My dreams fade with each passing day. My hope dies with each passing hour. You know you hate your life when you constantly daydream of suicide...

But still, this world can lick my hairy crack! Is that all you got?! It's going to take a lot more than that to take me down. Bring it, world! You have no clue just who you're fucking with. Not only will I not be knocked down, but I'm going to break free of this hell! Even with insignificant amounts of free time, when I'm weary and unmotivated, I still get down to business on my plans to get out of here.

One day I'm going to look back and curse these sorry days. Don't worry, you won't miss it. I'll be broadcast into all of your homes. And on that day, you'll see me with my shit-eating grin, and know that you failed.




I feel better now.






My latest literary project has me a bit overwhelmed at the moment. In my head, it seems simple enough, but when I try to write it down, just the basic outline, it gets convoluted and confusing. I must admit, I am an idea man. I can come up with endless concepts, premises, and myth. The actual translation to paper is where I have the most difficulty. I can talk and explain the whole thing to you effortlessly, but something about the actual, physical product seems insufficient. I'm not very diligent. I would do best working with a team, but there is no team, just me. So I must make do with what I can manage alone. Instead of one massive novel. I have decided to split it up into separate books. The books will seem completely unrelated but they will, in fact, be telling one grand story that reaches across all of time and space. It will be the product of my trying to understand everything. It will essentially be my answer to the greatest question of all: Why are we here?

If you follow any train of logic long enough, things get weird. My search for purpose has been the main focus of my life. I do not believe or disbelieve anything. Each perspective will be represented. For instance, one perspective isn't the Christian perspective. That would imply that all Christians have the same perspective. In actuality, things aren't so clear-cut. People interpret things individually. There are different levels of belief, different takes on the gospel, and different sources referenced. Not only that, but there are innumerable circumstances in our life which affect our belief systems. You must recognize how each person sees their own universe and somehow fuse all of this into one mythos. How to present such a thing?

My one big question for myself is: Have I learned enough to not completely fuck this up?






Story


For as long as he can remember, people have told James he was good for nothing. They told him to get his head out of the clouds. They said only a select few will ever become rich and famous. That he should stop trying for something that wasn't going to happen and focus on what was in front of him now.
    James did not take this advice. Now he sits in his office on the top floor of the 80 story skyscraper that bears his name and laughs to himself at these memories. He never gave up. Not even when, good-naturedly, everyone told him to. He let nothing stand in his path and now he has everything. His loving wife graces the covers of scientific and beauty magazines both. His net worth is astronomical. He's traveled the world over countless times. He speaks 18 languages and his art is priceless.
    He sits with a cigar in one hand and a glass of bourbon in the other. Life is as good as it is ever going to get. There are no more obstacles in his path... and he's bored. He's been bored for quite some time, because even with everything, he's still human, and he still wants more.

Why is it so hard to find...

a nice sweet girl who looks like she just crawled out from a tomb, hates everyone and everything, reads excessively, and wants to run away with me to live together in a cave deep in the woods where we will argue about the meaning of death, have obscene amounts of sex, and sustain ourselves on small children we lure into the woods with sweet music, then capture and devour?

I know, right?



So this little project here is going very well. I like to write. I would like people who are interested in reading my mind poop to have the ability to do so. I need practice and this is just that. It's a brainstorming/practice space for my literary mind. I hope you are all enjoying it. It makes me glad to see the pageviews swell. So thanks for the ego boost. Although, based on the content of my work, I'm forced to wonder just what the hell is wrong with you. I mean, what kind of person would regularly read this nonsense? You probably have issues. Just saying. But it's okay, I still like you. Thanks for reading, ya little screwballs.


Lately, I've been really into the sound of gross. If you want to know what I mean, just go on youtube and look up The Monsters, Stitch Hopeless and the Sea Legs, or Banane Metalik. Or click this

I'll be uploading some songs I did when I was bored soon under the name Selfdefeater. I'll post a link when that happens. I have some crap online already if you didn't know. I'll include some of those tracks on the Selfdefeater bandcamp page. You can check those out here

probably



That's it. No story or anything. Just a message from me to you. We don't talk enough.

I Didn't Used To Be This Pissed Off

But the stupidity of the world around me changed that real quick.

When I was a child, I was always extremely curious. I never had much interest in people, but the world... the world was a wondrous place. It was so beautiful and so full of mystery. My parents thought I might be a little retarded at first because I never paid much attention to humans. I didn't speak my first words early, and I always had this big dumb, wide-eyed look on my face. I wasn't brain damaged, I was just in awe of this world. Humans kept getting in between me and it. No, I wasn't dumb, I just didn't give one single fuck about people.

I developed the habit very early of wondering why, but not vocally asking why. I believe this is the true meaning of "QUESTION EVERYTHING." I would see other dumb monkeys asking the bigger, yet equally dumb, monkeys why things were. At this point, I had already been asking myself these questions, and was starting to get a good idea of the answer. So I'd eavesdrop a bit, and everytime, I would hear the most inane bunch of horseshit. There was no way in fuck these answers were even remotely correct. Don't fucking tell children this garbage! But they did, and I shut out the world of people even more.

Grown-ups had the most ridiculous  responses when I prompted them with a question. Either they would blatantly shoot me down with remarks like, "You're too young to be thinking about that." or "becuase it is." "Because it is" is no fucking way to answer any question ever! I would hear people give me answers like that and I would wish I was bigger so I could kick their fuckin ass. Or they would simply ignore me.

Early on I could already see that I was stuck in some big, dumb hell. If these were the creatures that populate and control the world, then I'm in for one shitty ride.

The first time I was introduced to religion, I thought it was a joke. Sitting in church, I'm trying so hard not to laugh as I thought to myself, "There's no fucking way you guys believe this shit. Come on, quit pulling my leg and tell me you're all kidding. That this is some elaborate joke to mess with us." When I realized it wasn't. I got scared. Very very scared.

Yes, it is true that I hate people. I will not deny that. But do you know why I hate them so much? It is because I fear them. I fear the big, dumb unconscious collective that rules my destiny. I fear the parents that bought me toys when I asked for tools and scientific equipment. I fear the authority figure with the laughable IQ. I fear the minds that accept blindly the information fed to them, and never once ask themselves why. I'm afraid, I'm sad, I'm alone, and I always will be.

I want to change things. I'm trying to change things. I'm trying to be patient with you. It can be difficult when you do not want to learn. The only quality in people I've ever loved is the desire to learn. I don't care how fucked up, behind, or slow you are. If you want to learn, I will teach you. And I did not say I will try to teach you, I said I WILL teach you. As long as you have the will to learn, I can teach you anything you want to know.

I get angry. I get very uncontrollably angry sometimes. All I wanted to do was learn and create, but I was not allowed to, so my desire to build was stifled. I became apathetic and full of hate. I'm irreversibly fucked. And if I had the chance, I'd burn this whole fucking world down.





Story



It was Jeremy's fist day of school. First Grade, the long journey begins! He'd never been to a school before. He was a bit afraid, but his fear was overcome with excitement. New things! He loved new things! The previous weeks were full of shopping for all of these beautiful objects he'd always wanted: sleeves of paper, folders, pencils, a pencil sharpener, and  a small case to keep it all together. These were his things. These were tools of the mind. These were powerful in the right hands.

Although during his math lesson that day, Jeremy kept getting frustrated. It was not because he didn't understand the material, it was just that he felt there was something missing at every step. It hurt his brain to think so simply. 1+1?  What is one? If One is an apple, and I drop the apple, and it breaks, what are those pieces?! They can't be one. The whole apple was one! And one is the smallest number there is! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!       And why is it always +? Every problem is blank plus blank. What if I want to go the other way? How would I do that? Can I do that?

So Jeremy raised his hand when prompted, and asked his simple question, "We keep going one way, with the plus thing. What if I want to go back, the other way? What's the other way?" The teacher gave him a perplexed look and asked, "What do you mean? This is addition. There is no direction, silly boy."   Jeremy thinks for a moment and replies, "What I mean is, what is the opposite of addition? We keep putting things together, isn't there a way to take them apart?" The teacher laughs, "Oh, you mean subtraction! No, we're not learning that yet. That is for later. Today, we are only learning addition." At this Jeremy can't help but say, "But I want to learn the other one, subtraction, too. This is school. You're supposed to teach me things in school. Teach me subtraction, just the basics, I can figure out the rest." The teacher has had enough of this. She gives him a hard look and says sternly, "No! Today we are learning addition and nothing else. Now keep your mouth shut if you don't have anything to say about addition!"

Tears welled up in the little boy's eyes, but he held them back, and tentatively raised his hand one more time. The teacher let out a great sigh, put her hands on her hips and asked him what he wanted now. He quietly let out his small question, "What's in between numbers?" At the utterance of these words, his face flushed red and he thought he might cry. Having put up with enough crap already from this snotty little shit, the teacher simply barked out, "Jeremy! You are not to speak again for the rest of the class!"

Jeremy stared down at his papers. He kept his hand folded neatly together under his desk, his legs tight together, and felt hatred taking root in his mind.

"Now I want all of you to come to the front of the room and sit indian style in front of me." Ordered the teacher, "I'm going to read a story to you."

The class gets up, shuffles forward, and sits cross-legged in a semi-circle in front of the teacher. All but Jeremy, who is sitting on his knees. The teacher was at her limit with this disobedient boy. "Jeremy!" she barks, "I told you to sit indian style!" He has no idea what the fuck she's talking about. He's sitting on the floor in the half-circle with all of the other kids. Why is she so pissed? "I said..." she yells louder, "to sit indian style! Don't sit on your knees like that! Sit like an indian!" Jeremy is just staring at her. How the hell is he supposed to know how indians sit? And he was sure there wasn't some mysterious force controlling them, rendering them incapable of sitting however they chose. So what is this madwoman yelling about?

The teacher kept staring at him, waiting for him to do something. He had no idea what was expected of him, else he would do it. "You do know how indians sit, don't you?" She yelled even louder this time.

Jeremy thought for a minute. He knew nothing about indians, and he was sitting there just like all the other kids.

 Finally, it's his turn to raise his voice. He looks the old hag right in the eye and exclaims, "I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about!"

672

672

My thoughts are my only real company. They hide me away where no one can reach me. They can be dark and old, full of mystery and wonder, and delicate and beautiful. They keep me safe from the dangers of a cruel, hopeless world.

672

My mind is a jumble... I mean, a jungle. Thoughts and dreams grow and branch out and hang and fall. I am the king of this jungle. I am the lion that roams without fear.

672

I am myself reliant upon self-reliance. I stand alone. Alone, but not lonely? re: lions. I myself suffer lions, or is it suffer lie-ons?

672

Clear-cutting is an awful way to explore a jungle. Wandering aimlessly into the depths of the unknown is equally and oppositely as awful. Explore, but trail your crumbs, lest the lions take you. Alliance with the lions. Suffer the silence.

672

Solitude is silent. It is peaceful, and calming... and dead. A jungle with no life is no jungle. It is a petrified forest.

672

I've slashed and burned these trees time and time again, yet they still continue to grow. I want this soil barren. I want these thoughts dead.

672

That's how many days

          since I last held you.

Bring me my shotgun.

It bothers me when people liken bluesmen to a bunch of emo crybabies. These people have no idea what the blues are. It's not a bunch of guys whining about how sad life is. It's about seeing the world for what it is, a shitty, dark, evil, cruel fucking place inhabited by soulless, two-timing, no good, lying scum. Not only seeing it, but actually deriving a sort of pleasure from it. A bluesman is a sick son of a bitch. He can not only take the fucked up realities of life, but laugh about them. The difference between a bluesman and a little emo bitch is that if you call a little emo bitch a pussy, he might whine at you. You call a bluesman a pussy, and he'll fucking stab you. These motherfuckers are made of cold, dead steel battered and shaped by a life of shit into fire-breathing ruthless monsters. Now, a bluesman isn't necessarily a bad man. He doesn't go round intending to cause trouble. Trouble just seems to follow him. Bad luck and misery are his closest friends. And when you live a life so full of misfortune, you tend to develop a growing desire to see the ruin of others. You get so down sometimes, you just want to go grab your shotgun and start shooting. Doesn't matter who. No need to worry though, a bluesman wouldn't hurt a fly, not unless that fly comes up and bites him. Then it's dead before it knows what hit him.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KCqEOboRctY

How Do You Define Yourself?

Now this is an interactive one. Take your time and be sure to follow my instructions as you read them. If you read ahead without doing so, you'll ruin all the fun, and you'll regret it. Don't worry, it's quick and easy. It won't take any time at all.

First, I want you to grab a pen and paper.
It doesn't actually have to be a pen and paper. Open a new document in your notebook program, whip out your shitty phone with the cracked screen, use poop and the wall behind you, I don't care.

I want you to write down at least 10 words that you would use to describe yourself.
Pick as many as you want. The more, the better. Shouldn't be too hard: kind, funny, tall, whatever. Hell, they don't even have to be just one word. "gets along well with others" works fine too.I guess I should have said "character traits" or something instead of just "words" but fuck it, you get the idea.

Take your time. Don't rush. These words aren't going anywhere/ They will be right where you/I left them.

Just things you would describe yourself as. Easy peasy.

Who are you according to you?

Pretty sweet list ya got there. Lots of positive things! Maybe too many positive things. Add some faults to that list. We all have them. "Terrible at following instructions" That might be a good one for those of you who haven't even started your list yet despite all of the warnings that you'll ruin the experience.

Okay! There we go! I'm proud of you! Good job!

Step 2 of this 2 step activity is also very simple. Last chance to make that list...

I want you to imagine that no one exists but you. Not one single person in the entire universe. Just you, and nothingness. You know what? Take away the universe, too. Nothing exists beyond yourself. There are no people, no plants, no animals, no Earth, no nothing. Only you.

Go through your list. Start removing things that have to do with other people and objects. Remember: nothing exists beyond yourself.

Kindness? GONE. How can you be kind to nothing? There's nothing to be kind to.
Good listener? GONE. Tall? In relation to what? GONE. Sweet? GONE. Attractive? GONE. Fat? GONE. Smart? GONE. Terrible at following instructions? GONE. Observant? GONE. Unique fashion sense? GONE.

I want you to go through this list removing everything that you use others to define you as. Everything that could end in an "er" and just throw that shit out. You can't be smarter than yourself, hotter than yourself, or kinkier than yourself.

When you have finished, look back at your list.

Who are you?

Apathetic

A pathetic. Ape athetic. Copacetic. Coat pacific. Goat specific. Most terrific. Motorific. Boater-fitted. In it to win it. Interperific.   Interlogistic. Intergalactic. Planetary.

Hmmm... not quite.

It's like... falling in love in a cemetery.
Or hot sex in the back of a hearse...
Like... that growing empty feeling in the pit of your soul that accompanies each achievement, or passing year.
Something like crying at the sight of a baby, or laughing at a man on death row.
It's like... talking of forever... knowing you'll get old... waiting for sunrise.

Almost. I still feel as if something is missing.

Something like white dust gathered at the bottom of a chalkboard.
The smell of wet cardboard.\
A high fly ball on a summer day.
Like the whispering of flowers.
A secret buried in the moon.
Snow shoes.
or stale bread.
It's a lot like that I guess...

Here, maybe this will help:

We can not choose who we love,
but we can choose to deny that love,
bury it deep down,
and let it fester into a black,
malignant cancer that robs us
of all kind feelings and leaves us
in a state of misanthropic apathy.

or

Sometimes, when I'm
Under the influence I
Can't help but say
Kind words, but

Inside those words,
There lies a hidden message.



The links are good. I would not worry of that. They work just fine. The input is correct. Try tuning the receiver. That could be the problem. Is that better? Have you fixed the issue? It could be.

I wrote a little song last night. I sung it as a lullaby to help me fall to sleep. Here it is:

Put a bullet in my head
All I want is to be dead
Life's a dream I want to end
Say goodbye to all my friends

And if you should ask me why
All I want is just to die
Take a look, there's nothing real
And there's nothing left to feel

Once upon a time I felt I lived
Thought I had so much to give
But I lost what I had sought
All my efforts were for naught

So put a bullet in my head
All I want is to be dead
Life's a dream I want to end
I'm too tired to pretend.