I sense your envy of my neck

Whether it be over snakes, girls, boys, lesbians, a sexual identity crisis, music, work, or simply the holidays, I believe everyone in my life has, for the moment, lost their mind. Anyone taking an active part in it, at least.

And you wanna know something? When everyone is in their own little worlds, why can't I have mine? Because I am made of spoons, and the communists are still out to get me. THINK NAZI GERMANY ON MY ASS, GOT IT?

And what makes a straight boy think that saying 'I think that homosexuals confuse strong platonic friendship for romantic feelings.' is going to make me rip my pants off and beg for penis? That is pretty much the biggest turn off I've ever had. He was so nice... Such a good friend. I thought he was super cool. Now I find that he has a strong conservative stick/log up his ass. No sir. I think I'll hold of on the penis. You've just insulted the last five years of my life. Have fun with your abusive girlfriend. I'll stick with the one I'm in love with.

I think that vagina rocks.

Penis is like getting poked in the eye with a sharp stick... Keep that in mind Judo. I understand that you like PRETTY WOMAN, and if you want we can go to a gay bar now. All I need you to say is 'Pussy rules' and we'll head out.

Oh! Speaking of christian would-be-lesbians, when are we hanging out, DWYER!?

Oh, and Nancy,

You suck.






Cassie rules. Dress Josh's junk up for the holidays for me, will you?

I wake up early to go to work now. I'm okay with this. I've got everything under control. As long as I convince myself of this, it will be true. The guy who got me the job says for it just being my first week of work, 21 hours is good money for someone who barely knows the business. They must like me. My store manager thinks I'm awesome. I'm usually ten to twenty minutes early if I can help it. I show up and ask her what she needs me to do, and then I wash my hands and clock in. I have a seven hour shift today. I get to take orders no matter where they put me. I just hope it isn't back cash. That is the register where you take orders and do money transactions. I'm not perfect at that yet. And it is also hard to hear what people are asking for. You have to hand out money as you take orders. I'm not totally ready for that yet. New jobs are frightening.

But the thing that surprises me is that this job... This 'bottom of the barrel' job is better than my job at Walgreens by a long shot. I was actually told how to do my job. My manager speaks to me. I have coworkers that I already know. It might be that I am more thankful for THIS job because I have to take care of myself and any job will do, but I like a job that keeps me so busy that I don't have time to get distracted. It's teaching me how to focus, because fuck anyone who thinks high school taught me that.

Oh, and if you ever go to Mickey D's and act like a jack ass, I will find you. I will hunt you down and I will give you the poke. It will not be a good poke. Your very soul will feel it, and your feeling of shame will be maximized to it's very limits. I do not hesitate. People need to learn that 'fast food' isn't instant, it is 'fast as humanly possible food'. Somewhere close to cannibalism. Whatever floats your boat. I know that a couple of my friends shun the franchise that I work for, but riddle me this! Who is getting paid now?

I had my first performance with Stille Air Machine today. We rocked the shit out of some old people out in Milan. Cliff got pissed with Fran and I for trying really hard not to laugh hysterically at some old challenged lady trying to sing along to Neal Diamond. Oh. My. Fuck. She was awesome. Think of the most comical 'challenged person' trying to sing along to Cher. You'll be where I was.

We performed Cassandra, Safe From the Sun, and Fingertips. We had requests to play more so we finished up with End of the World. We played four songs for complete strangers and... I finally feel like I might be able to tolerate this whole working with a band thing for as long as it takes to get somewhere. If it doesn't, oh well, at least I tried. And watching Cliff trying to psych himself into his 'Prince of Darkness' state of mind for a performance while in the company of old ladies is... So nice.

I now have a job where I have- Oh! I have a job. Fast food. What else do you expect? I'm nineteen and in southeast Michigan. But I have to kiss the manager's ass like at any job. She really likes me so far. I'm taking as many hours as I can get, and helping cover shifts and it's my first week. I already get a lot of what I'm supposed to do. I'm already setting myself up as a VALUABLE EMPLOYEE. If I have to work this job for two years or so, I can do that. So be it.

Fran is learning to climb off of her high-horse a little bit. I have money now. She doesn't have to feel so 'used' and 'manipulated' and defensive. I'm going to work to get her paid back by early spring. That way I don't owe her anything. That way we're on an even keel. I don't think she's trying to be overbearing, but when you've become accustomed to making rules because you're taking care of someone, kind of like a parent, its hard to change back to being an equal. But. I'm tired of walking on eggshells, and she complains about everything. Fix whatever she complains about, she'll complain about something else. If I have her paid back, I can say 'Hey Fran? I don't care.'

Oh! And my girlfriend is the best. When you've lived together for several months and we're both still in love so... You and your mother can suck my big enormous hearty balls. She's the best person in the world. Especially when she wears thigh-highs.

I've spent the last three days trying to hack my psp. The problem isn't that I'm not used to/ don't know what the fuck I'm doing. The problem is I don't want to make my own Pandora battery, and I'm broke. In order to install a custom firmware on the damn thing, I have to have a pandora battery, and in order to install a pandora battery I need to have a custom firmware. I was half way through cutting battery open, when I stopped and said... No... Nu-uh. I'm just going to go back to playing ps1 games with daemon tools. Fuck this shit.

20 youtube videos, eight how-to walkthoughs, and a billion forums later... I think I'll just buy a fucking pandora battery.

Unless I want to hitchhike down to Ohio to ask Josh what the fuck he did with his. I might even contact Alexa and see if she wants to help me out. I know that crazy tech geek can probably at least give me some pointers.

I'm better with finding loopholes in windows. Fucking WINDOWS has less restrictions than Sony firmware. Fuck you, Sony.

I give you the finger.

I'm switching to linux (I've been sucking window's cock for far too fucking long), and I'm going to hack my psp so hard, it'll be like rape.

Also I learned an important lesson in all this. Never update your software to the 'new and latest' version that the big ram-a-rock-up-your-ass company wants you to. They just want to ram rocks up your ass.

Aaron is official the biggest dumbshit I've ever had the pleasure of caring about. He cares about himself and maybe his girlfriend. Everything else he COULD care about, he pushes under the surface of his inner thoughts. He thinks only of himself because he cannot stand to think of the people he has hurt. And other than that, he's not really a person. He cannot stand to be sober. The only time I've seen him look healthy and good, was after he got out of jail. He'd been sober for three days. That is a record for him.

I wish nothing but the best for him. But I never want him to ask me for help again.

I want to stop caring.

No one has any idea where my nipples are.

I've lost them.

Kuna is a hoebag that does a thousand memes a day just like her best friend, Judo.

Hoebags.

I'm tired of trying to juggle my personal needs in order to make everyone happy. Honestly, if people put responsibility on me to take care of their problems or atone for something I did to make them upset., I will just shut down. It isn't my responsibility anymore. I cannot fix your life. Stop asking me to. I cannot sacrifice myself for anyone else for the next while. I need to focus on myself. I need to be just a little bit more self-centered. I've been too concerned with everyone else lately, and I've lost parts of myself. I need them back.

I need everyone to take care of themselves.

The only people I want to take care of right now are Kuna and myself. It's thanksgiving and I'm more thankful for her than anything else in the world.

Cassie-

I had a dream with you in it last night. You bought white contacts from lesbians at a kiosk who sold them to you cheap because they were cursed.

I think that if Cassie were gay, which she is, that I would hold hands with her maybe.
Just once.
Because when we touch, the honesty is too much.

Move. Stay. Wait. Go. Look. Shut your eyes. Sit. Stand. Run. Walk.

Can I please just do something I want without having to worry about someone else for a day? Not in a 'Fuck off everyone!' sense, but I want to relax and do something I want to do when I want to do it because I'm in the mood. I want to walk to the library alone and listen to music, sit down, and write for a few hours, and then come home, make myself dinner and watch a movie without having to constantly accommodate everyone around me. And when I say constantly, for the last two weeks, it's been CONSTANTLY. My sleep schedule is suffering because I have absolutely no time to myself, and I have three people around me with three different sleep schedules, but... I just want a day or two to myself to recover. To be me.

I also want to have a day where I don't feel manipulated to do one thing or the other.

I miss group sex with multiple racist armadillos.

Beat that.

I wish that everyone could be happy so that no one would be up until 6 a.m.

Should I stay or should I go?
If I go there will be trouble.
If I stay it will be double.

I'm listed as a Super Social Libertarian.

Everyone wants to be a libertarian. I mean... It's the newest craze in shoe-styles and other trivial accessories!

Bodily Accessories: If I were any cooler, I'd wear a hat.

No one has my favorite jacket. I must be out of luck.

My playlist for today is long:

The Chauffeur- Duran Duran
Come Undone- Duran Duran
Out of my Mind- Duran Duran
Teardrop- Massive Attack
Brother- The Organ
Inertia Creeps- Massive Attack
So Cold- Breaking Bennjamin
Stupid Girl- Cold
Screwing You on the Beach at Night- The Bloodhound Gang
The Con- Tegan and Sara
Back in your head- Tegan and Sara
Outtathaway- The Vines
Disturbia- Rihanna (I don't need dignity)
The Whole World- Outkast
Twenty Years- Placebo
Mass Destruction- Faithless
No Children- The Mountain Goats
Chocolate Jesus- Tom Waits
Psycho Killer- The Talking Heads
Dark Come Soon- Tegan and Sara
Let's Push Things Forward- The Streets
Don't Mug Yourself- The Streets
When You wasn't Famous- The Streets
Donny Soldier- Devvo
Bikini Sports Ponchin- Maximum The Hormone
I Wanna Get Married- Nellie Mckay
If You Really Loved Me- Tim Minchin
Pretty When You Cry- Vast
Sadeness- Enigma
Paper Planes- M.I.A.
Let Go- Frou Frou
Birds Stealing Bread- Iron & Wine
If You Could Only See- Tonic
Gold Lions- Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Big Day- Puracane
My Cat- Jack Off Jill
Sometimes- And One
Military Fashion Show- And One
I Hold Your Hand in Mine- Tom Lehrer
Illusion- VNV Nation
Nemesis- VNV Nation
Star-Crossed Lovers- De/Vision
I'm not Dreaming of You- De/Vision
Steal My Sunshine- Len
Voyaguer- Enigma

Why? Because I'm weird. If you have listened to half of these songs or more, we're friends. And you probably know just how strange this makes me.


I dive headfirst into an abyss of colour and sound. You can come with me. You should take my hand. you might get lost otherwise. It is an abyss after all. What you'll find there will be different from what I do. We'll see different things. What you say is up, I'll say is left. What I say is blue, you'll say is red. As long as you know this sort of thing going in, you won't be surprised or embittered when you and I live on different planets.

I am a dark blue paint splatter on a smooth white wall. I stand out in a nagging imperfect way. Will you paint over me?

My lead guitarist wants to call our project 'Dodging Fate' which to me sounds an awful lot like "Delusions of Faith'. COINCIDENCE? Frances and I are more partial to Daruma. This several word bullshit isn't always a good time. It's like a daterape scenario sometimes. Anyway, I don't want Cliff to try and turn this into something too much like Delusions of Faith. That is Cassie's baby. And I'm aiming for something else. I don't have her voice. Although I would REALLY LIKE TO WORK WITH HER. *hint*

But no. If I were a vegetable, I'd be a fig.

It rhymes with fag.

I'm a figfag

The trees were black. Black like a windowless room with the lights turned off. The ground was a murky grimy decayed brown like the ground you would find in hell. The line of sky behind the trees was a glowing orange as if somewhere off in the distance, a fire was blazing and eating away at the city. I was far away from help. I was staring off into the dark trying to see impossibly further than I could. I felt hollow. I felt watched. I closed my eyes and imagined figures of people slowly approaching me. Shadows drifting with outstretched hands. The structure to my right was something rusted and wrought.

This is what I found on Frainslake Rd.

My thoughts are reams of paper with words scribbled on them waiting to be bound together into a coherent collection of myself.

I carefully pull apart the seams of what material binds me to myself so that I can sew it back together when I return, and I step out. I step out into the world I've effected. Infected. I step pass the stacks of my sins piled high enough to penetrate the sky, and I am overwhelmed with shame. Not just one of them, but all of them combined make me feel like I've turned my life into something grimy and unpleasant. These things that I've done to myself and others form a city of sky-scraping monuments representing my faults. They surround me. Towering overhead. Looking down at me.

There are some occupants of this city of my sin. They are holograms of people I love, people I wish I could apologize to, people I wish would hold me, people I wish were still alive, and people that said they'd stay. I see their faces and I let go. I break down. I fall down, and I close my eyes, and I wish these representations of beings were real. I know I have to open my eyes. I have to look at these ghosts. I have to study those who made me what I am, and those that still do. I see my mother. She looks around at my sins and she cries frustrated tears. She will not look at me. If it were possible, she is more ashamed of me than I am. I want her to hold me. I want to tell her I'm sorry. I see my father. He just walks by with his hands in this pockets staring at the ground without expression. I see my grandmother. She is a memory that I cannot let go of. She is the only person that I remember as unconditional. I wish she were still here. She would hold me. I see my friends. They look down at me with sympathy and helplessness. They cannot change me, but they wish they could help me out of my despair. They wish they could change my self-destructive patterns. I see my previous lovers, and they do not have faces. They do not walk like the others, they stand still. Their bodies fade in and out like a bad frequency and their outlines are fuzzy, but I know who they are. They do not love me. They have shaped me as a person though.

I see you.

When I make eye contact with the representation of you, I am filled with warmth. I stand up and I walk over to you. You glow. You are the center of love in this twisted representation of me. The others walk around with pieces of my heart, but you have the brightest fragment. It is in you, and it shines through the static that comprises you. You smile at me. Not everything in me is terrible. I've got you. But then you begin to speak. It is just muffled white noise like a radio. I wish I knew what you had said. I reach out to touch you, but you aren't real in me. I am lost again.

I need to get away from this. I need to get away from everyone, and above all, I need to escape myself. I look around. Beneath me are my accomplishments. Small streets and narrow alleys of things I've done to improve the world around me wrap around my sins in an incomprehensible grid. These paths are a bright silver against the dark black mass of sins around me. Some of the accomplishments meld into the sins. They are one in the same in some cases. I wish the silver outweighed the darkness.

I walk down the largest of these bright streets in hopes that I might escape my sins.

Come with me. I cannot escape myself alone. I need you.

I'm not sure of what to write about anymore. When it comes to this journal at least. I feel empty of content. Sedated. I mean... I could write about the day I had yesterday, or I could write about how the communists are the root of all my problems. I'm just not sure that those sorts of topics would do justice to the mood I've been in. It isn't bad; it isn't good. It falls somewhere in between most days. I walk around in a haze of half finished thoughts and things I try to picture, but are just slightly out of focus. I don't know what is distracting me from... Everything. 

I remember the last year or so with a sort of relieved perspective. I've gotten this far. I just need to keep going. I cannot let everything that has happened to me and all the things I've done go to waste. It isn't an option. I need to record it. I need to document it through art or something. Anything to keep me from forgetting what I want and need. I'm starting to slip into a half-life of sorts. I can't remember what to feel anymore.

Maybe I've just changed. I suppose now is a better time than any to identify that I'm different than the person who came back from Albuquerque a year ago. I've experienced more. I've learned. Why do I feel like what I'm writing is complete and utter shit? This crap isn't even going to begin to scratch the surface of how off I've felt lately. I just need a break from life for a day. Something to make the cycle and repetition end.

Why is it, that I feel like an asshole for doing something to help someone out? I know he's a prick. I know he's the scum of the planet. I know that he's just a blood-sucking fiend from outer space. I know, I know, I know. But it's my life. What gives you the right to whisper your disapproval behind my back? 

Because I give a shit about someone who's a total fuck-up, I'm a loser. Right.

Because someone I am very close to made a series of horrible decisions, I shouldn't care anymore. It's true. I wish I didn't.

You write your passive-aggressive livejournal posts about how I'm abandoning my girlfriend to give a friend a place to stay for the night. Imply that I don't care from your detached basement out in Dearborn. It doesn't bother me. Next time, perhaps you should try communicating with me.

You know what? You have no idea how much I care about Kuna. None.

If I had the world to offer, she'd have it.

There isn't a whole lot stopping me from just setting fire to a moving vehicle and putting a brick on the gas pedal.

Destruction seems the only answer to self improvement.

My mother's birthday was yesterday.

She turned 41.

Someday she won't hate me anymore.

I've had this wonderful relationship with my emotional control center (ECC) up until today, I think. At least I kept my depression under the surface.

Today, I was either irritated, or hyperventilating.

FUN FOR YOU AND ME.