watta watta bing bang
i'm not the type to be an author. i realized that tonight. i was bored and tired and lacking inspiration so i decided to break out the old word pad and flow from brain to cns to fingertips to the interactive television, that's what it says in the thesaurus in my head under 'computer'. so i poured out of my head about two pages of spontaneous but somewhat structured fiction. it has no point and it's very pessimistic.. and it sucks. but it came out of me. like a piece of shit. it came out. i shat it out. and it is art.
i do feel like i'm not doing the institution that is livejournal justice. i read other people's journals and at least they are somewhat amusing. i read mine and it's boring and stupid and i never talk about anything worth mentioning. i mostly read other journals to see if i get mentioned. which i do not. i've almost abandoned the whole struggle.
and to top it off i had just written a long long insight into myself but i felt it was too personal for pretty much everyone here. so instead i'm going to post my little unfinished work that may or may not reflect some of my personal feelings. it also may or may not piss you off because i filled up your friends page with a waste of keystrokes. but fuck the people who think that. no friend of mine would accuse me of fucking up their friends page.
****don't read if you are of the faint of heart****
Dear diary is how I was going to begin, but then I changed my mind. The phrase “change your mind” is very amusing to me. If one could change one’s mind then there would be no problems. Let’s just say you get in a fight with your wife. Let’s just say she’s a terrible evil beast from the fiery pits of eternal hell. Let’s just say this is cause enough for you to want to get a divorce, but you also have two kids and deep down inside you really love her but are temporarily fed up with her constant nagging and whining and never ending bullshit. Well just think, if you could just change your mind, like turning on a light switch, could all that emotional pain and turmoil just fade away? Sure, that is if you could change your mind. Better yet. Let’s say that you hate everything. You hate your job, your life, your body, your apartment, your car, your friends, and even your stupid little cat. Just think if you hated everything and had no reason to live and you just wanted it all to end. What if you could just stop and clap your hands and change your mind? In an instant everything would be different, and all the things you so grudgingly loathe would magically seem so wonderful and beautiful that you wonder why you wanted it to end in the first place. You know, something like “It’s a Wonderful Life”, but without everything in between, just the beginning and the end. That’s all I needed.
Where should I start? Maybe I should start when things were good. To do life justice you must follow a certain pattern. There is an undeniable pattern as I see it. Things go from good, to bad, and then on to worse. You might say that this is not true, but in my personal experience that’s how it goes. This theory is not speaking of your whole life. It is referring to the downward slope to death. This is all as I see it, which really just means that it pertains to me and not everyone else. So all my theories and ideas only relate to me. That’s the sort of waste of a person that I am. I come up with a books-worth of knowledge about the human condition, but it only relates to one person or maybe a handful of people. Now I think I’ll get back to where I was at the beginning of this paragraph.
I don’t remember anything before I was nine. I’m almost positive that at the time I did remember something before then, but I’ve forgotten in my long, deteriorating binge of doing everything you could imagine when you think of the word “self-destruct”. By the way, I am a born again pessimist. I’ll try to focus on the subject at hand and keep my rambling at a minimum.
So anyway, I’m nine again. Doing everything a healthy, happy nine-year-old would do. I did it all. I swung on the swings. I went down the slide. I even think I might have spent some time in the sandbox. A nine-year-old boy has no worries. At nine you haven’t hit puberty, which means that girls haven’t poisoned your fragile little mind yet. Everything is gold. Playing outside is still fun. You don’t really want to do what you’re supposed to, but you’re not really lazy, you’ve got an insane amount of energy and you’re going wild. That is what being a kid is all about; going wild. School wasn’t a source of stress. Everyone got along with each other. No class system had shown it’s ugly face. You were all kids. You were all playing on the same playground, batting for the same team. Then a few years later those same kids you pushed on the swings, those same kids that you played house with, those kids now hate you, and you hate them also. All of you have supposedly matured, and at the same time found something to hate in one another. This is where the class system arose. It begins at the transition from elementary to junior high. This is when attitudes develop. Everyone’s hormones are raging and tearing the roof off the place, and this makes kids crazy. They don’t know what’s happening. So they go temporarily insane. And when I say temporary I mean until you graduate high school. That’s when you get your head back and the majority of you realize that you’ve all grown up together and that you are grown up and it’s time to get along and quit fucking around.
i do feel like i'm not doing the institution that is livejournal justice. i read other people's journals and at least they are somewhat amusing. i read mine and it's boring and stupid and i never talk about anything worth mentioning. i mostly read other journals to see if i get mentioned. which i do not. i've almost abandoned the whole struggle.
and to top it off i had just written a long long insight into myself but i felt it was too personal for pretty much everyone here. so instead i'm going to post my little unfinished work that may or may not reflect some of my personal feelings. it also may or may not piss you off because i filled up your friends page with a waste of keystrokes. but fuck the people who think that. no friend of mine would accuse me of fucking up their friends page.
****don't read if you are of the faint of heart****
Dear diary is how I was going to begin, but then I changed my mind. The phrase “change your mind” is very amusing to me. If one could change one’s mind then there would be no problems. Let’s just say you get in a fight with your wife. Let’s just say she’s a terrible evil beast from the fiery pits of eternal hell. Let’s just say this is cause enough for you to want to get a divorce, but you also have two kids and deep down inside you really love her but are temporarily fed up with her constant nagging and whining and never ending bullshit. Well just think, if you could just change your mind, like turning on a light switch, could all that emotional pain and turmoil just fade away? Sure, that is if you could change your mind. Better yet. Let’s say that you hate everything. You hate your job, your life, your body, your apartment, your car, your friends, and even your stupid little cat. Just think if you hated everything and had no reason to live and you just wanted it all to end. What if you could just stop and clap your hands and change your mind? In an instant everything would be different, and all the things you so grudgingly loathe would magically seem so wonderful and beautiful that you wonder why you wanted it to end in the first place. You know, something like “It’s a Wonderful Life”, but without everything in between, just the beginning and the end. That’s all I needed.
Where should I start? Maybe I should start when things were good. To do life justice you must follow a certain pattern. There is an undeniable pattern as I see it. Things go from good, to bad, and then on to worse. You might say that this is not true, but in my personal experience that’s how it goes. This theory is not speaking of your whole life. It is referring to the downward slope to death. This is all as I see it, which really just means that it pertains to me and not everyone else. So all my theories and ideas only relate to me. That’s the sort of waste of a person that I am. I come up with a books-worth of knowledge about the human condition, but it only relates to one person or maybe a handful of people. Now I think I’ll get back to where I was at the beginning of this paragraph.
I don’t remember anything before I was nine. I’m almost positive that at the time I did remember something before then, but I’ve forgotten in my long, deteriorating binge of doing everything you could imagine when you think of the word “self-destruct”. By the way, I am a born again pessimist. I’ll try to focus on the subject at hand and keep my rambling at a minimum.
So anyway, I’m nine again. Doing everything a healthy, happy nine-year-old would do. I did it all. I swung on the swings. I went down the slide. I even think I might have spent some time in the sandbox. A nine-year-old boy has no worries. At nine you haven’t hit puberty, which means that girls haven’t poisoned your fragile little mind yet. Everything is gold. Playing outside is still fun. You don’t really want to do what you’re supposed to, but you’re not really lazy, you’ve got an insane amount of energy and you’re going wild. That is what being a kid is all about; going wild. School wasn’t a source of stress. Everyone got along with each other. No class system had shown it’s ugly face. You were all kids. You were all playing on the same playground, batting for the same team. Then a few years later those same kids you pushed on the swings, those same kids that you played house with, those kids now hate you, and you hate them also. All of you have supposedly matured, and at the same time found something to hate in one another. This is where the class system arose. It begins at the transition from elementary to junior high. This is when attitudes develop. Everyone’s hormones are raging and tearing the roof off the place, and this makes kids crazy. They don’t know what’s happening. So they go temporarily insane. And when I say temporary I mean until you graduate high school. That’s when you get your head back and the majority of you realize that you’ve all grown up together and that you are grown up and it’s time to get along and quit fucking around.