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" i wish to god you were on the pill. "
fuck you, you obtuse, self-absorbed, heartless assholes. all of you.
i am so angry.
i spend my idle time now beating the shit out of two dimensional cartoon characters and wondering, quietly, when did life become so...banal?
cautious optimism is all that we can have. everything else that was good, is gone. long gone.
" the umpteen superfilious commandments "
i officially understand nothing.
sometimes pretending is the best way to get your rocks off in life.
i bet that homeless guy really really enjoyed that rice.
fuck vegetarians. put twenty of them into a room for a month with nothing else but a live cow, and see how soon their "morals" stand in the way.
starvation is one hell of a motive. i should know.
there is nothing not wrong with double negatives.
this guy at the bar was checking me out the other night. how drunk was he?
heh.
god i'm fat.
i still continue to smoke far too many cigarettes.
i wish i could calm down.
i am so tired of being strong.
boo-fucking-hoo.
the other day this chick, all decked out in this "charlie's angel's" uniform, was making fun of my skirt. (sometimes fantasising about killing ain't so fucking bad.)
i am no longer sorry. fuck being sorry. i will no longer apologise for what i cannot change. so either deal, or go away.
" it's okay. i wouldn't remember me either. " - american beauty
i need a new bra. you ripped up the other one.
lately i've been having dreams of my ex-fiancee. not to slip into much of a furor of self ( loathing/ pity/ fear/ hatred---take your fucking pick ) but i wonder why. why the fuck does he have any goddamned right to continue to haunt me.
hell---he's all ready ruined what would possibly had been one of the better things to happen to me.
i miss my blanket.
god bless alcohol. any of it.
i need a drink.
STOP FUCKING MOLESTING ME ALL THE GODDAMNED TIME.
please don't feel that any of this is directed at you. it is, but the point i'm trying to make is that this whole thing, the empire, all of it, is merely an example of the conscious effort to understand why good men face failure with a shit eating grin.
the bible has a book called job. this book is about how god allows the devil to inflict scourges of horrible means upon a simple, good man called job. the difference between this book and every other story of " god gives good man a fucking atrocious beatdown " is that this book (Job) has a whole section of Job bitching really meanly about how god has given him shit. so no, we aren't the first. nor will we be the last.
(DISCLAIMER: THIS IS IN NO FUCKING WAY AN ENDORSEMENT OF RELIGION. I FUCKING HATE ORGANISED RELIGION. GROWING UP IN A CHURCH WHERE BIG CREEPY SNAKES ARE KEPT IN A WICKER BASKET FOR " RELIGIOUS PURPOSES " KINDA DOES THAT TO YOU-- MAKES YOU WARY. BUT READ THE BIBLE, REGARDLESS. IT'S GOT SOME FUCKED UP SHIT IN IT.)
" After this opened Job his mouth, and cursed his day. And Job spake, and said, let the day perish wherein I was born, and the night [in which] it was said, There is a man child conceived. Let that day be darkness; let not God regard it from above, neither let the light shine upon it. Let darkness and the shadow of death stain it; let a cloud dwell upon it; let the blackness of the day terrify it. As [for] that night, let darkness seize upon it; let it not be joined unto the days of the year, let it not come into the number of the months. Lo, let that night be solitary, let no joyful voice come therein.Let them curse it that curse the day, who are ready to raise up their mourning. Let the stars of the twilight thereof be dark; let it look for light, but [have] none; neither let it see the dawning of the day: because it shut not up the doors of my [mother's] womb, nor hid sorrow from mine eyes. Why died I not from the womb? [why] did I [not] give up the ghost when I came out of the belly? Why did the knees prevent me? or why the breasts that I should suck? For now should I have lain still and been quiet, I should have slept: then had I been at rest, with kings and counsellors of the earth, which built desolate places for themselves; or with princes that had gold, who filled their houses with silver: or as an hidden untimely birth I had not been; as infants [which] never saw light. There the wicked cease [from] troubling; and there the weary be at rest [There] the prisoners rest together; they hear not the voice of the oppressor." ( Book of Job, Chapter Three, verses 1-18 King James Version Translation )
i love you. but you don't love me for who i am, nor what i want to become. you love the person that you think you can mold and shape like so much clay. you love the power that you try to hold over my head. you love the superiority you feel when i am wrong, or misinformed. you love the way that you can cut me down, little by little, so effortlessly, so unconsciously. hmm.
not for long, my dearest, not for long.
listen to something else, once in a while.
to J : you've got my condolences and a cigarette anytime i can spare it.
to D : why? no----fuck your " anti-explanation " front. tell me the FUCK WHY?
to A : you have my respect, and a bunch of bullshit straight from the whore's mouth.
