Aluminum
The countdown to extinction resumes.
By the next time the moon has circled the earth, I will have lived for thirty-two years. Here are the changes I have noticed.
I am cultivating fat where there was none before, particularly around the navel. Although a cross section of my hips would reveal nothing but skin and bones, the pants I wore last Christmas are hellishly tight. My skeleton has widened.
I am getting drunk more easily. Sometimes after only two beers. Two weeks ago I got so fucked up at a concert that I jumped onstage and tried to lead the audience in a chant so that the band would come out for a second encore. I fell off the stage and landed straight on my knee, which swelled up and is killing me even now. I wasn't even together enough to feel emberasssed. It hurts to kneel.
My back hurts. Terribly. Even having a wallet in my pocket is too much for me to tolerate.
One of my wisdom teeth resembles a bear trap and sometimes cuts my tongue.
During band practice last week I was screaming my ass off, as I always do, and was suddenly crippled by a "Cluster Headache" (according to WebMD, anyway) that was maddeningly debilitating. It has recurred every day since then whenever my heartrate goes up, making it pointless to attempt to masturbate. I'm horny as hell but lack the will to alleviate it... I need a slow blowjob for maybe three hours. I have always mocked headache sufferers as being whiny babies because the worst headache I ever had was scarcely more than a minor nuisance. Well, I take that all back. If this is what everyone was bitching about, I guess I had no idea that they were suffering something I was inexperienced with. I thought I was fucking going blind, it was terrifying.
I wear a seventy pound guitar with 250 half-inch spikes on it. Always have. Lately it has been really hurting my shoulder.
I don't really enjoy smoking cigarettes anymore. Out of one pack, I wind up throwing away fifteen of them after one drag. But I still have that urge to ligh up.
That thing that I always thought was just my balls rubbing my leg raw is actually jock itch? Scrubbing with soap has no effect on this type of skin fungus? Where was I when this part of personal hygeine was doled out to 20th century civilised man? Fucking gross. Well, at least this is easily treated. To every girl that ever noticed this and were too polite to mention it to me: you were not doing anyone a favor. Its like seeing someone in a dress that makes them look fat, just shoot straight and end it alreay.
My toenails are not naturally thick and unmanageable, THATS A GODDAMN FUNGUS TOO. Its like I've been living under a rock. Thank Satan I was bored enough to pick up that copy of Ladies Home Journal and read the cute ad with the little yellow creatures living inside the guy's toe. Also easily treatable, but damn, still gross. The idea of organisms herding my cells together for their own mitochondrial agenda is creepy.
I moved into a friend's place for about one week and was allergic to it. I had to move out. I was wheezing, my eyes were crusted over, snot bled out of my nose like a melting snowcap, and I itched all over. This is little help added on to my natural state of insomnia.
I am sexually meaner than I have ever been. When I was eighteen all I ever wanted to do was kiss and kiss and kiss some more. I suppose after so many disappointments, I have now switched my focus to degradation and ownership. All I ever want to do is just throw a girl around and worse. Of course, if someone actually allowed me to do that, they wouldn't be the sort of self-respecting person I would even typically be friends with, let alone feel some sort of affection for. Even more frustrating, although I can easily ejaculate, I have almost no sensation of orgasm unless I am lying completely still. How many people are there in the world willing to flex their hips or necks long enough to make that happen? Keeping in mind, of course, that I am not very nice to be around.
I can't read street signs at night anymore. My eyes are important, but really I'd rather spend money on my band than have some contacts. Oh, but I do own seven hundred dollars' worth of "theatrical lenses" that completely block my peripheral vision. I almost got crushed beneath the elevator at the Maquerade last night.
After about four songs on stage, I get so consumed with anger that I can barely hold onto my pick anymore. I first noticed that last year playing with Demoncy, but I just assumed I was shitfaced. Well, I try to get drunk alot less often and I'm swallowing about three gallons of water a day now, and I'm almost completely off the soft drinks, but I seem to be feeling shittier most of the time. The one good thing, I suppose, is that the things that used to seem really heavy to me are pretty easily jerked up in the air lately. This might be psychosomatic since I only noticed this since Megan let on that she thinks I am a big strong person. I never thought of myself that way. She thinks I could beat up Alyxx Wilson, ha ha. Maybe if I had a golf club and he was sleeping.
There's a place in my right hip that always "pops" when I'm working out, even without any weights. My right ankle pops alot when I'm wearing my favorite boots.
I used to pluck disgusting wiry hairs out of the mole on my face twice a year. Its like twice a week now.
I hate every single goddamned song that was released in the past three years, except "Scars Of The Crucifix" by Deicide. The last CDs I bought were the Stevie Wonder boxed set and the complee re-mastered remixes of the Megadeth catalog. Only old fogeys would buy that shit. I love them though.
The Radio is my worst enemy. I finally sprung for a CD player in my car because I just couldn't find a damned thing to listen to anymore, except for "Tales from Lake Wobegone" on NPR every Sunday. OLD!
In summary: waah waah waah. Poor me. What else is a Livejournal good for? Nobody is interested in your posts if you only have positive things to say.
I'm already an old man, and I just hit middle age. HEY! You kids get out of my Azaleas!! I'm going to go work on a crossword puzzle........
By the next time the moon has circled the earth, I will have lived for thirty-two years. Here are the changes I have noticed.
I am cultivating fat where there was none before, particularly around the navel. Although a cross section of my hips would reveal nothing but skin and bones, the pants I wore last Christmas are hellishly tight. My skeleton has widened.
I am getting drunk more easily. Sometimes after only two beers. Two weeks ago I got so fucked up at a concert that I jumped onstage and tried to lead the audience in a chant so that the band would come out for a second encore. I fell off the stage and landed straight on my knee, which swelled up and is killing me even now. I wasn't even together enough to feel emberasssed. It hurts to kneel.
My back hurts. Terribly. Even having a wallet in my pocket is too much for me to tolerate.
One of my wisdom teeth resembles a bear trap and sometimes cuts my tongue.
During band practice last week I was screaming my ass off, as I always do, and was suddenly crippled by a "Cluster Headache" (according to WebMD, anyway) that was maddeningly debilitating. It has recurred every day since then whenever my heartrate goes up, making it pointless to attempt to masturbate. I'm horny as hell but lack the will to alleviate it... I need a slow blowjob for maybe three hours. I have always mocked headache sufferers as being whiny babies because the worst headache I ever had was scarcely more than a minor nuisance. Well, I take that all back. If this is what everyone was bitching about, I guess I had no idea that they were suffering something I was inexperienced with. I thought I was fucking going blind, it was terrifying.
I wear a seventy pound guitar with 250 half-inch spikes on it. Always have. Lately it has been really hurting my shoulder.
I don't really enjoy smoking cigarettes anymore. Out of one pack, I wind up throwing away fifteen of them after one drag. But I still have that urge to ligh up.
That thing that I always thought was just my balls rubbing my leg raw is actually jock itch? Scrubbing with soap has no effect on this type of skin fungus? Where was I when this part of personal hygeine was doled out to 20th century civilised man? Fucking gross. Well, at least this is easily treated. To every girl that ever noticed this and were too polite to mention it to me: you were not doing anyone a favor. Its like seeing someone in a dress that makes them look fat, just shoot straight and end it alreay.
My toenails are not naturally thick and unmanageable, THATS A GODDAMN FUNGUS TOO. Its like I've been living under a rock. Thank Satan I was bored enough to pick up that copy of Ladies Home Journal and read the cute ad with the little yellow creatures living inside the guy's toe. Also easily treatable, but damn, still gross. The idea of organisms herding my cells together for their own mitochondrial agenda is creepy.
I moved into a friend's place for about one week and was allergic to it. I had to move out. I was wheezing, my eyes were crusted over, snot bled out of my nose like a melting snowcap, and I itched all over. This is little help added on to my natural state of insomnia.
I am sexually meaner than I have ever been. When I was eighteen all I ever wanted to do was kiss and kiss and kiss some more. I suppose after so many disappointments, I have now switched my focus to degradation and ownership. All I ever want to do is just throw a girl around and worse. Of course, if someone actually allowed me to do that, they wouldn't be the sort of self-respecting person I would even typically be friends with, let alone feel some sort of affection for. Even more frustrating, although I can easily ejaculate, I have almost no sensation of orgasm unless I am lying completely still. How many people are there in the world willing to flex their hips or necks long enough to make that happen? Keeping in mind, of course, that I am not very nice to be around.
I can't read street signs at night anymore. My eyes are important, but really I'd rather spend money on my band than have some contacts. Oh, but I do own seven hundred dollars' worth of "theatrical lenses" that completely block my peripheral vision. I almost got crushed beneath the elevator at the Maquerade last night.
After about four songs on stage, I get so consumed with anger that I can barely hold onto my pick anymore. I first noticed that last year playing with Demoncy, but I just assumed I was shitfaced. Well, I try to get drunk alot less often and I'm swallowing about three gallons of water a day now, and I'm almost completely off the soft drinks, but I seem to be feeling shittier most of the time. The one good thing, I suppose, is that the things that used to seem really heavy to me are pretty easily jerked up in the air lately. This might be psychosomatic since I only noticed this since Megan let on that she thinks I am a big strong person. I never thought of myself that way. She thinks I could beat up Alyxx Wilson, ha ha. Maybe if I had a golf club and he was sleeping.
There's a place in my right hip that always "pops" when I'm working out, even without any weights. My right ankle pops alot when I'm wearing my favorite boots.
I used to pluck disgusting wiry hairs out of the mole on my face twice a year. Its like twice a week now.
I hate every single goddamned song that was released in the past three years, except "Scars Of The Crucifix" by Deicide. The last CDs I bought were the Stevie Wonder boxed set and the complee re-mastered remixes of the Megadeth catalog. Only old fogeys would buy that shit. I love them though.
The Radio is my worst enemy. I finally sprung for a CD player in my car because I just couldn't find a damned thing to listen to anymore, except for "Tales from Lake Wobegone" on NPR every Sunday. OLD!
In summary: waah waah waah. Poor me. What else is a Livejournal good for? Nobody is interested in your posts if you only have positive things to say.
I'm already an old man, and I just hit middle age. HEY! You kids get out of my Azaleas!! I'm going to go work on a crossword puzzle........