And on a lighter note...
Okay digging back, heres what was taken away:
2004-06-03 03:36:00; Faded
Smell, sip, drink, Faded.
What a night.
Random bars with random people in random worlds talking about...
Whats this I'm Faded.
Man on his hands walking around the bar.
Man I'm Faded.
Three dollars to him and a Bass in the face.
Wow, someone else is Faded too.
Oasis, Van Morrison, Pink Floyd and more.
We are all Faded.
Slowing drinking all the beer, faster than a we ever dared.
Where were you while we were getting Faded?
Bums and walkers passing by.
Fidel is out and in the mood.
Bars are closed, people are asking for receipts on life.
Man we're all Faded.
Drunk roommates falsely advertising fat roommates, to drunk friends, for false sex.
Man shes Faded.
Bum with a knife, about to lose his receipt, I didn't want to rhyme because;
I'm faded.
Holding back friends, random people, aggressive moods, suicidal bums.
See how fast being Faded fades.
2004-06-02 15:58:00; Blink,blink
Heres another oldie but a goodie...
Today, I was inspired. A new world opened its eyes to me and winked. A feeling, a flood, a torrential downpour of life - emotion - vitality was bestowed unto me with a single turn of the head. Bat of the eye. A twitch of the lips upward to nearly a smile. And then gone - hair falling across the shoulder, turning the corner. Walking away - out of my world, our world. Taking sunshine, sweet smelling breezes, light April clouds, and butterflies with her. She left for me a vision, a glimps, a tiny morsel of reality which only exists in a compelling insanity. For my world, our world, is a world of darkness, and despair. Bitter air and foul eddies of filth and debris washing down the vast crevices of our soul, my soul. Covering us in decadence... knowing that there is a place where the sun shines. A place we would rather not be.
Hope yah enjoyed it.
2004-05-30 06:00:00
I read a flower today. It said it was dying. It asked for some water, fertilizer, a larger pot - something in pink would be nice, and a better spot in the sunlight.
I wanted to reach out and hug the flower, reassure it that everything was okay. I did what I could, although pink was unacceptable. The important pieces were provided. I felt like a Hospice worker. The flower seemed happy or maybe just assuaged.
I didnt have the heart to tell the flower that it would die. Thats the way it is. Spring and Summer come and go and Fall and Winter bring new things. New life, but sadly they bring it at a price.
Death really isnt that price, neither is the time without. Its the letting go. The realization. All things, good and bad, dark and light, weak and strong, beautiful and unsightly, old and new, loved and forgotten, end.
It scares me more than the flower. It's not that the flower will die, other things do as well. Trees, sunsets, long summer days and short summer nights, the dog next door, and the Bookstore down the street, best friend's marriages and forgotten friend's hatreds. I guess its really that I see me, and you, in the flower. Someday I hope I meet the gardener and find out if I'll bloom again next spring.
Sometimes I read something and react. This was my reaction. I dont know why. But then I dont know why any of my posts turn out the way they do when I'm writing them. As the words of a friend were played in my mind, while reading their journal, this was born and I was nearly physically forced to reply with this post. This experience kinda shook me up.
Carpe Florentis
2004-05-30 05:39:00; Death of a Video Card
So I returned home tonight to a technicolor screen of jumbled images.
My video card died!
He's barely one year old. I would say he was a good card, but he only lasted a year damnit that is so not cool.
My video card died!
I'm glad I had my trusty backup card. The original in box card. He's not nearly as able as my dead card was, but he has a plodding since of persistence.
My video card died!
I feel like a computer pirate now, ARRRRRR, I have a patch over one eye. And what that eye sees does not look good.
My video card died!
I guess it could have been worse, it could have been my hard drive, or my motherboard, or my processor... oh wait no those are still under a great warranty, MY VIDEO CARD ISNT!!!
My video card died!
I was singing bye bye my video card, I took the computer to the internet it was never too far. We were playing Anarchy online and Star Wars - the day.... my video card .... died.
Sniff, by little fella. I wish I had known yah longer.
2004-05-27 03:41:00; Frustrated Incorporated
I always get to this stage
and I look across the vast sea of empty seats.
People will fill those seats, or should.
I perform for them, you, and me
and that performance becomes a call.
Many will see, some may hear, few will heed.
The more I try to be great the less natural I become.
Is my performance obvious?
Is it right to try so hard and fail?
Do I fail?
Will failure only show itself when the stage is swept
and the curtain drawn?
Do I impress you, can I?
I want to, desperately, but who are you?
How many are you?
Will I show you what you need to see me for what you need me to be?
Can I be you, watching me, choosing me?
Can I be me, choosing you, knowing you will choose me?
Who are you?
I see your outline, fuzzy in the shadows.
You hesitate on the edge of indecision,
"What of this?", you say hoping earnestly for a divine answer.
Is it right?
Is he right?
Am I right?
No, six times wrong upon many times not quite right.
I find my performance empty, un-fulfilling,
but I only see it one act at a time.
2004-05-07 05:10:00; Yes, this entry is directed at a certain individual.
To my manager:
You filthy swine princess, of an african tsetse ridden, hut dwelling, sheep fucking, ass cannibal. You're a pathetic sack of unwashed socks taken from a Hustler hockey jerkathon in Shit Whole, USA. TWAT! When you speak pieces of feces falls from your lips and dribbles down your bloated grotesque GUT, while your chubby little fingers race to scrape the shit back into that foul pit, that utters unintelligible nonsense in endless loops, that you call your mouth.
BATHE YOU GUTTER WHORE, the stench of your asscrack causes the weak to black out. -Er note to audience: at this point you should visualize a ratty little dog step out from a street corner open his tiny little mouth with 3 rotten teeth and a severely gashed lip with a nasty infection, pan his sad eyes out over all the universe open his mouth and unleash a Inferno of total auditory destruction causing buildings to crumble, people to melt, plant life to vaporize, and an unending pillar of COMPLETE ANNIHILATION millions of miles across to rip through the cosmos.
What a fucking bitch.
Hey can you beleive they pay me to put up with this? Who woulda thought there was a sort of reward system in hell.
2004-05-05 14:07:00; Subject Optional
Let old dogs lie and let new dogs lie, but let them lie apart for they are different in their reasons for lying.
2004-05-01 03:51:00; Destroy
Emptiness
Despair
Sorrow
Loneliness
Guilt
Shallowness
Hollow
Lost
Everyday I hide these. I have a neat little place to keep them. My dirty secrets my shame. The sins to my self. I bundle them up, shove them, stomp on them, and fling myself over them like a desperate vacationer packing dirty laundry into an overstuffed suitcase. Thats what I do - just one more piece of dirty soul to stuff into an overfull ruin. As long as no one sees it then Im okay. It doesnt exist anymore. Out of sight out of social inquiry. My face advertises the problems hidden. But I deny. And quite fervently at that. This is my problem. Not for you. To you there should be no problem within me. This is my obesity, debt burden, sexual impotence, incompetence, drug addiction, and every other unadmitable stain upon life. I deny again. This is not your problem, its not even mine. Im quite happy with my weight, financial status, sex life, intelligence, and recreational activities thankyou. I could share my advice with you - you too can be where I am today. Or where I want you to think I am. I am blind, you hide your soiled life too but I cant see that, Im blinded by my own. But Ill happily tell you what I should tell myself. Whose a better psychologist than me, with all my problems, right? I HAVE NO PROBLEMS! What I do is the only logical solution to insane ideas and feelings given to use by a diseased mind. Who thought of despair? Some one in a logical state of mind? HELL NO. It was a diseased soul crying for some one else to feel like they do. Why do all my hidden burdens cry for company? Please join me. Im secretly happy to see others fail in their attempts to stealth away these things. I laugh to myself saying ha - ha - ha there is a person with no emotional control. Secretly I curl into a fetal position and draw my razor claws across a conveniently placed chalkboard and gasp with glee "I am not alone!" But I hide this too. The self-deception never ends. Each day I goto bed with these feelings - I drown them in the flow of chaotic mental activity, sleep. I wish I could say I awake refreshed and eventually rediscover these inadequacies, but no they remain, ground, mixed, stirred, and poured into easy to swallow gel caplets. A promise to be there at the instant they are undesired. A song, a smell, the familiar touch of an an unfamiliar person, a name, the way light falls on an object, in the patterns on a carpeted floor, in phrases, tastes, in the cold spot beside me in bed. Parasites of the soul. Feeding but not killing. Not yet, not now, maybe tomorrow.
2004-04-11 17:11:00; Random
This is just an attempt for me to be more open.
6 Wives, 3 Children, and a lifetime supply of Budweiser (Ode to my Dad)
36 years ago a 20 year old union electrician was busy working over a trick. The outcome was my half-brother. A poor boy in a poor trailer with a drunk ass father and a babysitter. Who in turn was worked over like the woman before her. And the southern Baptist judge was quoted as saying, “Well Ted you got your hand caught in the cookie jar again - that girl is yours.” And then there was that woman from Mandarin - how the hell she found sex in Palatka I’ll never know, but that’s all it was.
Looking back I’d swear my mom had been smarter but, she was number four. And she did that for five years, then left with a son and hopes of going back to mom and dad. The next was a bitch, I was there when she left. Scarring us both - for me it was my six day image of him - and his was slightly more visual. I wrote her off as just another blond night in bed. The last one - well she saw it through to the end and by far she was around the longest. She managed to take and dish out his crap with grace - as I understand it. And that half-brother and sister, well I see them occasionally. The last time was July 16th, 1999. Some fat slob in Gator’s clothes lay there and my brother who took his shit for sixteen years was sobbing at the man’s feet. My sister hung back some and just kept shaking her head telling me she was so sorry. That’s when they both turned and looked at me with bloodshot eyes nearly on the brink of another emotional flood. And they said it at the same time, those words that nearly made me choke on my own laughter. “We’re so sorry Joe, you never knew your own dad, this must be the hardest of all on you.” I thought about that and it was a nice thing to say, that Friday in the funeral home. But what we were all really thinking was, You’re the lucky bastard who didn’t have to put up with that shit.
Well like I said that was the last time I saw them. And that fat slob dressed up in the Gator’s clothes - well I don’t think I ever saw him before…
2004-04-11 04:23:00; August 06,2001
Tstrel: the future is only known when it is in the past my man
History is often fashioned by insignificant individuals bent on matters of petty personal concern completely irrevelant to carefully planned posterity.
-Orson Scott Card
2004-04-06 16:55:00; Bubbles
I fell back into a place I've been before
and I always swear I'll never return there.
I guess I'm too weak to back away
or to blind to see it comming.
Either way the bubble has been created
and one day it may break.
I hope that day comes when understanding prevails
or maybe I'll lock this down where all the other bubbles hide.
Am I just another weak and lonley person preying on those like me
or am I a catylist for change, a stepping stone for the paths of others?
I guess that all depends on perspective...
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream...
Just in case any of you were Interested.
-=The Asshole=-
F.P.B.
2004-06-03 03:36:00; Faded
Smell, sip, drink, Faded.
What a night.
Random bars with random people in random worlds talking about...
Whats this I'm Faded.
Man on his hands walking around the bar.
Man I'm Faded.
Three dollars to him and a Bass in the face.
Wow, someone else is Faded too.
Oasis, Van Morrison, Pink Floyd and more.
We are all Faded.
Slowing drinking all the beer, faster than a we ever dared.
Where were you while we were getting Faded?
Bums and walkers passing by.
Fidel is out and in the mood.
Bars are closed, people are asking for receipts on life.
Man we're all Faded.
Drunk roommates falsely advertising fat roommates, to drunk friends, for false sex.
Man shes Faded.
Bum with a knife, about to lose his receipt, I didn't want to rhyme because;
I'm faded.
Holding back friends, random people, aggressive moods, suicidal bums.
See how fast being Faded fades.
2004-06-02 15:58:00; Blink,blink
Heres another oldie but a goodie...
Today, I was inspired. A new world opened its eyes to me and winked. A feeling, a flood, a torrential downpour of life - emotion - vitality was bestowed unto me with a single turn of the head. Bat of the eye. A twitch of the lips upward to nearly a smile. And then gone - hair falling across the shoulder, turning the corner. Walking away - out of my world, our world. Taking sunshine, sweet smelling breezes, light April clouds, and butterflies with her. She left for me a vision, a glimps, a tiny morsel of reality which only exists in a compelling insanity. For my world, our world, is a world of darkness, and despair. Bitter air and foul eddies of filth and debris washing down the vast crevices of our soul, my soul. Covering us in decadence... knowing that there is a place where the sun shines. A place we would rather not be.
Hope yah enjoyed it.
2004-05-30 06:00:00
I read a flower today. It said it was dying. It asked for some water, fertilizer, a larger pot - something in pink would be nice, and a better spot in the sunlight.
I wanted to reach out and hug the flower, reassure it that everything was okay. I did what I could, although pink was unacceptable. The important pieces were provided. I felt like a Hospice worker. The flower seemed happy or maybe just assuaged.
I didnt have the heart to tell the flower that it would die. Thats the way it is. Spring and Summer come and go and Fall and Winter bring new things. New life, but sadly they bring it at a price.
Death really isnt that price, neither is the time without. Its the letting go. The realization. All things, good and bad, dark and light, weak and strong, beautiful and unsightly, old and new, loved and forgotten, end.
It scares me more than the flower. It's not that the flower will die, other things do as well. Trees, sunsets, long summer days and short summer nights, the dog next door, and the Bookstore down the street, best friend's marriages and forgotten friend's hatreds. I guess its really that I see me, and you, in the flower. Someday I hope I meet the gardener and find out if I'll bloom again next spring.
Sometimes I read something and react. This was my reaction. I dont know why. But then I dont know why any of my posts turn out the way they do when I'm writing them. As the words of a friend were played in my mind, while reading their journal, this was born and I was nearly physically forced to reply with this post. This experience kinda shook me up.
Carpe Florentis
2004-05-30 05:39:00; Death of a Video Card
So I returned home tonight to a technicolor screen of jumbled images.
My video card died!
He's barely one year old. I would say he was a good card, but he only lasted a year damnit that is so not cool.
My video card died!
I'm glad I had my trusty backup card. The original in box card. He's not nearly as able as my dead card was, but he has a plodding since of persistence.
My video card died!
I feel like a computer pirate now, ARRRRRR, I have a patch over one eye. And what that eye sees does not look good.
My video card died!
I guess it could have been worse, it could have been my hard drive, or my motherboard, or my processor... oh wait no those are still under a great warranty, MY VIDEO CARD ISNT!!!
My video card died!
I was singing bye bye my video card, I took the computer to the internet it was never too far. We were playing Anarchy online and Star Wars - the day.... my video card .... died.
Sniff, by little fella. I wish I had known yah longer.
2004-05-27 03:41:00; Frustrated Incorporated
I always get to this stage
and I look across the vast sea of empty seats.
People will fill those seats, or should.
I perform for them, you, and me
and that performance becomes a call.
Many will see, some may hear, few will heed.
The more I try to be great the less natural I become.
Is my performance obvious?
Is it right to try so hard and fail?
Do I fail?
Will failure only show itself when the stage is swept
and the curtain drawn?
Do I impress you, can I?
I want to, desperately, but who are you?
How many are you?
Will I show you what you need to see me for what you need me to be?
Can I be you, watching me, choosing me?
Can I be me, choosing you, knowing you will choose me?
Who are you?
I see your outline, fuzzy in the shadows.
You hesitate on the edge of indecision,
"What of this?", you say hoping earnestly for a divine answer.
Is it right?
Is he right?
Am I right?
No, six times wrong upon many times not quite right.
I find my performance empty, un-fulfilling,
but I only see it one act at a time.
2004-05-07 05:10:00; Yes, this entry is directed at a certain individual.
To my manager:
You filthy swine princess, of an african tsetse ridden, hut dwelling, sheep fucking, ass cannibal. You're a pathetic sack of unwashed socks taken from a Hustler hockey jerkathon in Shit Whole, USA. TWAT! When you speak pieces of feces falls from your lips and dribbles down your bloated grotesque GUT, while your chubby little fingers race to scrape the shit back into that foul pit, that utters unintelligible nonsense in endless loops, that you call your mouth.
BATHE YOU GUTTER WHORE, the stench of your asscrack causes the weak to black out. -Er note to audience: at this point you should visualize a ratty little dog step out from a street corner open his tiny little mouth with 3 rotten teeth and a severely gashed lip with a nasty infection, pan his sad eyes out over all the universe open his mouth and unleash a Inferno of total auditory destruction causing buildings to crumble, people to melt, plant life to vaporize, and an unending pillar of COMPLETE ANNIHILATION millions of miles across to rip through the cosmos.
What a fucking bitch.
Hey can you beleive they pay me to put up with this? Who woulda thought there was a sort of reward system in hell.
2004-05-05 14:07:00; Subject Optional
Let old dogs lie and let new dogs lie, but let them lie apart for they are different in their reasons for lying.
2004-05-01 03:51:00; Destroy
Emptiness
Despair
Sorrow
Loneliness
Guilt
Shallowness
Hollow
Lost
Everyday I hide these. I have a neat little place to keep them. My dirty secrets my shame. The sins to my self. I bundle them up, shove them, stomp on them, and fling myself over them like a desperate vacationer packing dirty laundry into an overstuffed suitcase. Thats what I do - just one more piece of dirty soul to stuff into an overfull ruin. As long as no one sees it then Im okay. It doesnt exist anymore. Out of sight out of social inquiry. My face advertises the problems hidden. But I deny. And quite fervently at that. This is my problem. Not for you. To you there should be no problem within me. This is my obesity, debt burden, sexual impotence, incompetence, drug addiction, and every other unadmitable stain upon life. I deny again. This is not your problem, its not even mine. Im quite happy with my weight, financial status, sex life, intelligence, and recreational activities thankyou. I could share my advice with you - you too can be where I am today. Or where I want you to think I am. I am blind, you hide your soiled life too but I cant see that, Im blinded by my own. But Ill happily tell you what I should tell myself. Whose a better psychologist than me, with all my problems, right? I HAVE NO PROBLEMS! What I do is the only logical solution to insane ideas and feelings given to use by a diseased mind. Who thought of despair? Some one in a logical state of mind? HELL NO. It was a diseased soul crying for some one else to feel like they do. Why do all my hidden burdens cry for company? Please join me. Im secretly happy to see others fail in their attempts to stealth away these things. I laugh to myself saying ha - ha - ha there is a person with no emotional control. Secretly I curl into a fetal position and draw my razor claws across a conveniently placed chalkboard and gasp with glee "I am not alone!" But I hide this too. The self-deception never ends. Each day I goto bed with these feelings - I drown them in the flow of chaotic mental activity, sleep. I wish I could say I awake refreshed and eventually rediscover these inadequacies, but no they remain, ground, mixed, stirred, and poured into easy to swallow gel caplets. A promise to be there at the instant they are undesired. A song, a smell, the familiar touch of an an unfamiliar person, a name, the way light falls on an object, in the patterns on a carpeted floor, in phrases, tastes, in the cold spot beside me in bed. Parasites of the soul. Feeding but not killing. Not yet, not now, maybe tomorrow.
2004-04-11 17:11:00; Random
This is just an attempt for me to be more open.
6 Wives, 3 Children, and a lifetime supply of Budweiser (Ode to my Dad)
36 years ago a 20 year old union electrician was busy working over a trick. The outcome was my half-brother. A poor boy in a poor trailer with a drunk ass father and a babysitter. Who in turn was worked over like the woman before her. And the southern Baptist judge was quoted as saying, “Well Ted you got your hand caught in the cookie jar again - that girl is yours.” And then there was that woman from Mandarin - how the hell she found sex in Palatka I’ll never know, but that’s all it was.
Looking back I’d swear my mom had been smarter but, she was number four. And she did that for five years, then left with a son and hopes of going back to mom and dad. The next was a bitch, I was there when she left. Scarring us both - for me it was my six day image of him - and his was slightly more visual. I wrote her off as just another blond night in bed. The last one - well she saw it through to the end and by far she was around the longest. She managed to take and dish out his crap with grace - as I understand it. And that half-brother and sister, well I see them occasionally. The last time was July 16th, 1999. Some fat slob in Gator’s clothes lay there and my brother who took his shit for sixteen years was sobbing at the man’s feet. My sister hung back some and just kept shaking her head telling me she was so sorry. That’s when they both turned and looked at me with bloodshot eyes nearly on the brink of another emotional flood. And they said it at the same time, those words that nearly made me choke on my own laughter. “We’re so sorry Joe, you never knew your own dad, this must be the hardest of all on you.” I thought about that and it was a nice thing to say, that Friday in the funeral home. But what we were all really thinking was, You’re the lucky bastard who didn’t have to put up with that shit.
Well like I said that was the last time I saw them. And that fat slob dressed up in the Gator’s clothes - well I don’t think I ever saw him before…
2004-04-11 04:23:00; August 06,2001
Tstrel: the future is only known when it is in the past my man
History is often fashioned by insignificant individuals bent on matters of petty personal concern completely irrevelant to carefully planned posterity.
-Orson Scott Card
2004-04-06 16:55:00; Bubbles
I fell back into a place I've been before
and I always swear I'll never return there.
I guess I'm too weak to back away
or to blind to see it comming.
Either way the bubble has been created
and one day it may break.
I hope that day comes when understanding prevails
or maybe I'll lock this down where all the other bubbles hide.
Am I just another weak and lonley person preying on those like me
or am I a catylist for change, a stepping stone for the paths of others?
I guess that all depends on perspective...
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream...
Just in case any of you were Interested.
-=The Asshole=-
F.P.B.