"If you read you'll judge." - Kurdt Cobain
"IF YOU READ YOU'LL JUDGE."
Ok, so after having a nervous breakdown, I split to West-By-God-Virginia for a few days. It helped while I was gone, but as soon as I got back, mom had to turn up the heat again, and try to push me back over the edge. I fucking hate my 'rents sometimes. Anyway...
I'm not the least bit tired, but have nothing to do. I wrote like almost 10 pages in my journal over the past two days. After reading it, I wonder just how nuts I really am. But that is neither here nor there.
Nirvana sounds nice right now. I'd play poker, but I'm too emotional, I'd loose, and fly off the handle. I'm looking forward to the Southgate House again this Monday. Hope I don't fuck up this time. I knew that was the start of a bad week and I should not have gotten out of bed all week after that happened. Anyway, if you are reading this, and you want to know what's wrong, ask, if I want you to know I'll tell you, if not, then I'll probably beat around the bush and give you a bunch of Lawyer double talk. You'll probably get the picture. Or I might just say i don't want to talk about it.
I find it utterly amazing that life can be so incredibly great one minute, then you come back to reality and you hate yourself...neat, hhhuuu? Sometimes I can sympathize with the insane. I wish I were locked up, a nice padded rubber room, no sharp objects, a nice doctor to talk to, who doesn't believe a word I say, but gives me really great drugs to help me escape the living hell my life sometimes seems like. Yeah, that would be nice. But for some reason, my parents always think its a joke when I say I need a shrink. They tell me that I'm too normal for...nevermind, if I were crazy I would have done something stupid by now. I'm just an irrational self-loather who's too busy waiting for it all to end.
"A mulatto
An albino
A mosquito
My libido"
I'm gonna stop putting by lines with my quotes, let you all just figure it out. They're all pretty simple, my mind is never really that complex when it comes to music. Come on, it's not like I'm a guitarist, those people really care about music, I'm just a lousy drummer from PoDunk, OH. The only thing I really know about music is that there are a lot of shitty musicians out their who think they know what they are talking about, and I'm not going to pretend to be one of those. The thing that made Socrates the smartest man who ever lived is that he admitted that he didn't know shit. So, to try to follow in his footsteps, I'll admit that I don't know shit about music. But I will forever study it, only to learn that most of it is crap, and the only good music is the music that comes from the heart...or the penis. I like my train of thought type of writing, and if your still reading, I'm sorry, but I'm typing this crap exactly as it comes to me, with little to no editing or thinking about what it reallys means. Speaking of meaning, the above quote means 'I'm horny.' Which at the present time, I'll admit that I am. Very much so. Alocohol and sex, possibly mixed, would be nice right now, but both in large quantities would be awsome. I love escaping life, if they weren't illegal, I'd probably do drugs...no, not so much. But alcohol sounds so nice right now. I'd also like to escape this headache. I've had it on and off for days and days, it's starting to drive me nuts, but I have this thing against pills and I can't take anything because of it. So I'll suffor with the pain and make friends with my ailment. Masochist make friends witht their problem, maybe I should become a masochist, I'm not afraid of knives, but I couldn't do the whole blood thing...no. I'll just sit back and enjoy my headache as wonder deranged thoughts about the world. Ok, since I'm sure that this is boring as all hell, and frankly, I don't remember half the shit I wrote, I'm gonna stop and find something more productive to do with my time. Like write in my personal journal, the one no one reads, that way I won't be judged for my thoughts.
Maybe I'm normal and the rest of the world is just nuts?
Ok, so after having a nervous breakdown, I split to West-By-God-Virginia for a few days. It helped while I was gone, but as soon as I got back, mom had to turn up the heat again, and try to push me back over the edge. I fucking hate my 'rents sometimes. Anyway...
I'm not the least bit tired, but have nothing to do. I wrote like almost 10 pages in my journal over the past two days. After reading it, I wonder just how nuts I really am. But that is neither here nor there.
Nirvana sounds nice right now. I'd play poker, but I'm too emotional, I'd loose, and fly off the handle. I'm looking forward to the Southgate House again this Monday. Hope I don't fuck up this time. I knew that was the start of a bad week and I should not have gotten out of bed all week after that happened. Anyway, if you are reading this, and you want to know what's wrong, ask, if I want you to know I'll tell you, if not, then I'll probably beat around the bush and give you a bunch of Lawyer double talk. You'll probably get the picture. Or I might just say i don't want to talk about it.
I find it utterly amazing that life can be so incredibly great one minute, then you come back to reality and you hate yourself...neat, hhhuuu? Sometimes I can sympathize with the insane. I wish I were locked up, a nice padded rubber room, no sharp objects, a nice doctor to talk to, who doesn't believe a word I say, but gives me really great drugs to help me escape the living hell my life sometimes seems like. Yeah, that would be nice. But for some reason, my parents always think its a joke when I say I need a shrink. They tell me that I'm too normal for...nevermind, if I were crazy I would have done something stupid by now. I'm just an irrational self-loather who's too busy waiting for it all to end.
"A mulatto
An albino
A mosquito
My libido"
I'm gonna stop putting by lines with my quotes, let you all just figure it out. They're all pretty simple, my mind is never really that complex when it comes to music. Come on, it's not like I'm a guitarist, those people really care about music, I'm just a lousy drummer from PoDunk, OH. The only thing I really know about music is that there are a lot of shitty musicians out their who think they know what they are talking about, and I'm not going to pretend to be one of those. The thing that made Socrates the smartest man who ever lived is that he admitted that he didn't know shit. So, to try to follow in his footsteps, I'll admit that I don't know shit about music. But I will forever study it, only to learn that most of it is crap, and the only good music is the music that comes from the heart...or the penis. I like my train of thought type of writing, and if your still reading, I'm sorry, but I'm typing this crap exactly as it comes to me, with little to no editing or thinking about what it reallys means. Speaking of meaning, the above quote means 'I'm horny.' Which at the present time, I'll admit that I am. Very much so. Alocohol and sex, possibly mixed, would be nice right now, but both in large quantities would be awsome. I love escaping life, if they weren't illegal, I'd probably do drugs...no, not so much. But alcohol sounds so nice right now. I'd also like to escape this headache. I've had it on and off for days and days, it's starting to drive me nuts, but I have this thing against pills and I can't take anything because of it. So I'll suffor with the pain and make friends with my ailment. Masochist make friends witht their problem, maybe I should become a masochist, I'm not afraid of knives, but I couldn't do the whole blood thing...no. I'll just sit back and enjoy my headache as wonder deranged thoughts about the world. Ok, since I'm sure that this is boring as all hell, and frankly, I don't remember half the shit I wrote, I'm gonna stop and find something more productive to do with my time. Like write in my personal journal, the one no one reads, that way I won't be judged for my thoughts.
Maybe I'm normal and the rest of the world is just nuts?