(no subject)
Pretentious bullshit x-posted from my xanga:
Whoo! Me and the Cap'n Makin' it happen. Are you responsible for broken promises when you're wasted? What if that promise was not to drink for a while? On the other hand, what if "a while" is 12 hours? If I held my breath for a while 12 hours would be beyond the realm of possibility, let alone "a while." Its all about perspective, and you get a shit load of perspective from the bottom of a beer bottle, just not the kind you're probably used to. Is there a better case for Swedenborg than addiction? Its the Will vs. the Understanding in an epic showdown that's more lopsided than Mike Tyson against the bitch he raped, but she won in the end so who says I can't beat my will? I beat myself up while I beat myself every night. Hah, that's not true, but it sounded cool. Now I sound like Emily, making random shit up out of nowhere. I need my own style. Not of dressing, but of living. I need to find some loving. Not that bullshit stuff the teenagers get that I never got from my parents, but the real thing that probably doesn't exist except in some fucked up drug induced book. Have you read "Conjugial Love"? No wonder he was single. I'm so fucking random. Look at me. Look at how much I can write while saying absolutely nothing. Or am I saying everything? I'm so fucking deep. I should practice poetry (hey, alliteration) for that fucking class I'm talking next term. Bathroom break (as a I will allude again to alliteration). I swear poets spit out random organs that they claim are their hearts and we're not into science so we believe the hype and don't chcek with Gray's Anatomy. See? I spewed bullshit and convinced at least one of you (assuming anyone reads this) I was talking truth. If truth is inside you then a toilet's truth is shit. And so is mine.
But breaking off that tangent, as I break open another beer (I'm lying, I'm onto the hard stuff), I think I have successfully "[drank] until I can't feel feelings." Now I'm just thinking them, which makes them feel less real, but when I can't feel them can I call them feelings? Do I need to make a list to make this fucking more obvious? Ok... only because you asked nicely:
1. I'm drunk
2. I fucking hate my life.
3. I feel like I'm drifting away from everyone I ever remotely cared about, and now I care about them remotely (sorry, had to add the wordplay, I'll refrain from now on).
4. I have to be up in a little while. Hah, see, when I said "a little while" you thought I meant less than 12 hours (which is true) so where do you get off...calling me an alcoholic? (Usually the bathroom, I'll pretend I'm not making sense so you're not uncomfortable).
5. (added afterwards; the p.s. before the end). My parents have never fought in front of me. I had the perfect childhood. My family is so fucked up. I don't think I've ever told my family I love them except my brother when I was drunk. I'm kind of guessing my parents love me, but I'm taking that on blind faith. Hey, there I go being a hypocrite (long story, don't ask). I could bitch about how I'm never going experience a happy relationship* for a variety of reasons, but like I said later, its time to wrap this up.
I guess this is already too long (like a black man!) so I'll wrap it up (like black men usually don't!) with this: Everything I said tonight has at least a grain of truth behind it, but if 99.9999% is lies then the truth is irrelevant. The one thing I can say is that tomorrow I will deny writing any of this. It was the alcohol. Damn I'm good.
*relationship: friendship or romantic attachment; definition not confined to latter usage. I should be fucking Noah Webster. But he's dead and our president condems necrophilia.
I'm just fucking gay like that. Enjoy!
Whoo! Me and the Cap'n Makin' it happen. Are you responsible for broken promises when you're wasted? What if that promise was not to drink for a while? On the other hand, what if "a while" is 12 hours? If I held my breath for a while 12 hours would be beyond the realm of possibility, let alone "a while." Its all about perspective, and you get a shit load of perspective from the bottom of a beer bottle, just not the kind you're probably used to. Is there a better case for Swedenborg than addiction? Its the Will vs. the Understanding in an epic showdown that's more lopsided than Mike Tyson against the bitch he raped, but she won in the end so who says I can't beat my will? I beat myself up while I beat myself every night. Hah, that's not true, but it sounded cool. Now I sound like Emily, making random shit up out of nowhere. I need my own style. Not of dressing, but of living. I need to find some loving. Not that bullshit stuff the teenagers get that I never got from my parents, but the real thing that probably doesn't exist except in some fucked up drug induced book. Have you read "Conjugial Love"? No wonder he was single. I'm so fucking random. Look at me. Look at how much I can write while saying absolutely nothing. Or am I saying everything? I'm so fucking deep. I should practice poetry (hey, alliteration) for that fucking class I'm talking next term. Bathroom break (as a I will allude again to alliteration). I swear poets spit out random organs that they claim are their hearts and we're not into science so we believe the hype and don't chcek with Gray's Anatomy. See? I spewed bullshit and convinced at least one of you (assuming anyone reads this) I was talking truth. If truth is inside you then a toilet's truth is shit. And so is mine.
But breaking off that tangent, as I break open another beer (I'm lying, I'm onto the hard stuff), I think I have successfully "[drank] until I can't feel feelings." Now I'm just thinking them, which makes them feel less real, but when I can't feel them can I call them feelings? Do I need to make a list to make this fucking more obvious? Ok... only because you asked nicely:
1. I'm drunk
2. I fucking hate my life.
3. I feel like I'm drifting away from everyone I ever remotely cared about, and now I care about them remotely (sorry, had to add the wordplay, I'll refrain from now on).
4. I have to be up in a little while. Hah, see, when I said "a little while" you thought I meant less than 12 hours (which is true) so where do you get off...calling me an alcoholic? (Usually the bathroom, I'll pretend I'm not making sense so you're not uncomfortable).
5. (added afterwards; the p.s. before the end). My parents have never fought in front of me. I had the perfect childhood. My family is so fucked up. I don't think I've ever told my family I love them except my brother when I was drunk. I'm kind of guessing my parents love me, but I'm taking that on blind faith. Hey, there I go being a hypocrite (long story, don't ask). I could bitch about how I'm never going experience a happy relationship* for a variety of reasons, but like I said later, its time to wrap this up.
I guess this is already too long (like a black man!) so I'll wrap it up (like black men usually don't!) with this: Everything I said tonight has at least a grain of truth behind it, but if 99.9999% is lies then the truth is irrelevant. The one thing I can say is that tomorrow I will deny writing any of this. It was the alcohol. Damn I'm good.
*relationship: friendship or romantic attachment; definition not confined to latter usage. I should be fucking Noah Webster. But he's dead and our president condems necrophilia.
I'm just fucking gay like that. Enjoy!