(no subject)
The faces of the dead and dying.
Its you baby.
Its all of you.
Once again I feel too old for all this shit. New Years Eve was an exercise in total fucking stupidity. At least the cooking was good.
I have to ask myself why I care at all. I am slowly slowly edging towards total fucking apathy and the life superior and all that shit... but I still do enjoy people's company from time to time. It seems like friends are dropping like flies these days. I don't seem to have any qualms whatsoever about just chopping off limbs and throwing them about willy-nilly.
A lot of people have been talking about 2004. I wish I weren't so passive aggressive about this fucking journal.
You're all soulless god damn flies. And you manage to get it wrong, too. You manage to get being a soulless god damn fly totally wrong, and pull it off without any style, or poise, or air of dignity.
The other night with Kevin at his practice space I sang real loud and fucked up my throat. I got the idea that perhaps I should do that all the time, because I like the way I sound with a fucked up throat. Also at the practice space I fell over, and then an amp fell over, and this fucking lame guitar with a ben harper sticker on the back hit the ground and made that stupid guitar falling and hitting the ground noise. I have never wanted to break an instrument so badly in my life. Apart from, I guess, when I actually did. Kevin laughed.
It is a wonder that I have made it through life without getting the shit completely kicked out of me. It will happen. I have far too great a temper for it not to. Especially when it is deserved. And my memory is pretty good, too. I remember lots of small things.
Its funny to have a purpose in life. It makes you pretty fucking intolerant. Of everyone that doesn't, of everyone that has fucked it up.
And so I just wish that I could completely ignore all the dumb mother fuckers that waste my time. But I've become far too obsessed with the fact that they are wasting my fucking time. And I feel the urge to be as thin as I look. Purge to be free from baggage. Stomach acids and stakes aflame.
One word: operation chaos.
I'm learning to survive on earth worms and house flies.
Its a vicious cycle.
Your peace and love is a pool cue to the mouth.
And you Lie, lie, lie.
If you want the truth I don't like looking stupid. And that is what my trust has often wound up doing to me- made me look stupid. And that is why I just get in these moods where I really violently want the world to leave me the fuck alone.
Yes the death of another relationship. Throw it on the funeral party/pyre. Its cathartic to burn. But only if you can someday stop burning. Well I'm not going to tough it out. I am not strong enough to ignore myself, but I am strong enough to ignore you. That is what distance is. That is what distance means.
There is a reason we have ex-wives, ex-husbands, ex-boyfriends, ex-girlfriends. Its because we've lost whatever it is that allowed us to like her in the first place. Until all we have left is the label. Oh yes and control. And so the only thing we have left to do is terminate the label. But it never disappears, see? Just gets a nifty little prefix. That fucking infuriates me. Its like a branding. You know?
I want to be a person no one remembers they knew. I want the kids who thought they knew me to sit there and squint. I don't want to be a changed man and unrecognizable. The opposite, in fact. I want to be so fucking definite, thin, precisely me, that everyone decides I'm not worth knowing.
Ever notice how the ones you hate at first become your best friends in the end? Its because they saw right through your bullshit first off. And decided it weren't shit compared to their's.
I am returning to Dartmouth. A new year. An old me.
Its you baby.
Its all of you.
Once again I feel too old for all this shit. New Years Eve was an exercise in total fucking stupidity. At least the cooking was good.
I have to ask myself why I care at all. I am slowly slowly edging towards total fucking apathy and the life superior and all that shit... but I still do enjoy people's company from time to time. It seems like friends are dropping like flies these days. I don't seem to have any qualms whatsoever about just chopping off limbs and throwing them about willy-nilly.
A lot of people have been talking about 2004. I wish I weren't so passive aggressive about this fucking journal.
You're all soulless god damn flies. And you manage to get it wrong, too. You manage to get being a soulless god damn fly totally wrong, and pull it off without any style, or poise, or air of dignity.
The other night with Kevin at his practice space I sang real loud and fucked up my throat. I got the idea that perhaps I should do that all the time, because I like the way I sound with a fucked up throat. Also at the practice space I fell over, and then an amp fell over, and this fucking lame guitar with a ben harper sticker on the back hit the ground and made that stupid guitar falling and hitting the ground noise. I have never wanted to break an instrument so badly in my life. Apart from, I guess, when I actually did. Kevin laughed.
It is a wonder that I have made it through life without getting the shit completely kicked out of me. It will happen. I have far too great a temper for it not to. Especially when it is deserved. And my memory is pretty good, too. I remember lots of small things.
Its funny to have a purpose in life. It makes you pretty fucking intolerant. Of everyone that doesn't, of everyone that has fucked it up.
And so I just wish that I could completely ignore all the dumb mother fuckers that waste my time. But I've become far too obsessed with the fact that they are wasting my fucking time. And I feel the urge to be as thin as I look. Purge to be free from baggage. Stomach acids and stakes aflame.
One word: operation chaos.
I'm learning to survive on earth worms and house flies.
Its a vicious cycle.
Your peace and love is a pool cue to the mouth.
And you Lie, lie, lie.
If you want the truth I don't like looking stupid. And that is what my trust has often wound up doing to me- made me look stupid. And that is why I just get in these moods where I really violently want the world to leave me the fuck alone.
Yes the death of another relationship. Throw it on the funeral party/pyre. Its cathartic to burn. But only if you can someday stop burning. Well I'm not going to tough it out. I am not strong enough to ignore myself, but I am strong enough to ignore you. That is what distance is. That is what distance means.
There is a reason we have ex-wives, ex-husbands, ex-boyfriends, ex-girlfriends. Its because we've lost whatever it is that allowed us to like her in the first place. Until all we have left is the label. Oh yes and control. And so the only thing we have left to do is terminate the label. But it never disappears, see? Just gets a nifty little prefix. That fucking infuriates me. Its like a branding. You know?
I want to be a person no one remembers they knew. I want the kids who thought they knew me to sit there and squint. I don't want to be a changed man and unrecognizable. The opposite, in fact. I want to be so fucking definite, thin, precisely me, that everyone decides I'm not worth knowing.
Ever notice how the ones you hate at first become your best friends in the end? Its because they saw right through your bullshit first off. And decided it weren't shit compared to their's.
I am returning to Dartmouth. A new year. An old me.