(no subject)
ahh not gonna sleep. i hate reading shit with no firm direction to it and assuming the worst. i hate not being able to sleep. i cant be comfortable in any situation anymore. im never content with shit. fuck. i feel akward all the time now. thats the word. akward. everywhere. everyone im around. kind of sucks. i kind of Hate it. hate hate hate. ice water with lime. mhmm. my new sole drink. mainly because this one time there was nothing else to drink and there still isnt anything else to drink. my mothers developed a disease as part of the pregnency but it will go away as soon as the baby is born. theyve done everything they can do to help her now. it can still cause her to have a stroke ( i just spelled that stork at first), a heart attack, shut down organs, or harm or kill the baby. if it gets worse than shel have to have the baby prematurely. speaking of babies..
i had this dream the other night. well morning because it was after phil woke up to go to work and i woke up because i heard him. in the dream me emilie and tamara were walking around in a dilapadated (spelling?) school building that resembled the old bay point middle building mixed with a california school. we were on an upper story. we were having a dissagreement and harsh words were spoken so i just started listening to my headphones. than i walk down the spiraling stairs. im on the ground floor. i walk off the concrete onto dead grass thats browned with weeds taking over. i look over at a sign thats hanging on the fence and its something fucked up that i laugh at because its so outlandishly fucked up. i keep walking a bit and hop over the fence. im making my way across the field trying to get to the other side of it and away from the building and than a baby runs up and starts maliciously attacking me. i say to it, "what do you want, money?" (?) its trying to tackle me and restrain me. its ridiculously strong and i cant move. in front of me is a bus and it turns on its lights and starts heading towards me. i realize the baby is going to cause me to die when this bus hits me so i grab onto its arm and start spinning around and fling it into the bus. instead of going thru the windshield it bounces off of the side and out of my sight. than it cuts and im on top of the bus with a gallon of tiki torch fuel. im lighting it on fire and trying to fling it at the bus in front of me that emilie and tamara are standing on. theres a hatch with two gas cans in it thats slightly open and im trying to fling the gallon at them and blow up the bus. than i wake up.
i understand the dream is (i think the word is) vulgur but bear (sp?) with me. i talked to danny about it that morning and he gave me what he interpreted it as. he also said that he didnt know if the dream was for me, or for him, or for chris, or anyone for that matter. i found that funny because the night before i was thinking about the context of other peoples dreams having a different meaning to me that helped me on the path to self discovery and meant something different to them. after that i started thinking about it and it makes sense now. ive gathered my own interpretation of it and it seems fitting. considering it came from my mind i assume it is.
another dream i had: im in rachels truck. its another ridiculously big and fancy truck from the lot. this time ridiculously bigger. for some reason the interior is like a suv. its me her emilie and these 2 stupid kids from my old school. shes giving us all rides somewhere but emilie is staying at her house. theres 2 plastic bottles of whiskey floating around in the backseat. were driving down 4th st. just like theres a embedded area in the door of my freezer where the ice and cold water comes out theres one embedded in the doors of her truck. i turn to my side and put some ice in my cup. on the rocks. havent poured my glass yet. we pass the kids house. i ask why they didnt get dropped off. im told that theyre waiting until i get dropped off and theyl be getting dropped off on the way back. i want to stay and drink. mixed emotions. than i dont know what happens.
ive got all these half assed plans to fix up my life because i cant be content with this. i dont think im being rash. this isnt it. i dont know what is thou. fuck. i need to work. or do something. i dont know. ahh. or constantly be in motion. or not do what im doing right now. i never have any money in my pocket and that would be fine. however. im always around people that do. i have habits. i havent managed to be self sufficient in terms of them yet. i dont have a place to live that isnt here right now. my batches of brew all got fucked up because i cant put them in proper fucking containers and they go to shit and then all the shit i spent on that goes down the fucking bathtub drain. i spend my paycheck from my last job on something thats guranteed to give me some cash flow and than i realize i fucked up and bought the wrong supplies and im stuck with useless shit. than im penniless which is fine because i dont have to take the bus. than jarda flips the fuck out and makes me and a couple of my friends leave after bitching about how i need to have a job if my friends are going to eat all his fucking food (which we werent). than noone can come over until my mom gets out of the hospital. than i have to sit on all my friends sofas in their apartments and take up space in their house and not have my own cigarettes to smoke and never have money to throw in on beer. than jarda loses shit again and he thinks i stole it again. than my moms fucking half dead. than my little brothers fucking half dead. than my brothers just barely alive and lucky as hell he is. than i cant get a fucking job even when i want to because im too fucking young? than i cant get out of this fucking house let alone this fucking city because i cant afford it and i cant even afford to pay my mother back for bailing my ass out when i thought i wanted to come back here. at least i have a dumpster down the street with a different set of books in it every time i check. and friends who are ok with givin me cigarettes and beer all the time. and a mom whos still alive. and a little brother and big brother who are still alive. and a place to sleep even if its not ideal. a bike that doesnt fuck up on me or get stolen. food. water with lime. a place to rant about everything. a circle jerks cd. a small group of friends even if i feel akward and invasive around the ones i have here and the rest are god knows where spread out across the fucking country.
get to fuck
im bringing my homebrewing to a whole new level. just wait.
ive also realized its 5 o clock. that means ive fucked up my schedule. AGAIN. there was a period of time since the last time i posted and now where it was fine. nope. not anymore huh.
i just looked over that rant up there and realized that is just about all my life is made up of now. fucking sad. i live like that while thinking about painting and drawing and having an apartment and this and that which i wont mention here for legal reasons, and living in the woods, farming, learning how to fix up bikes, writing music, performing music, knowing how to play music, having a dog, having people i care about and vice versa, not being this fucking fuck ahhhhhhhh
how do you expect me to use proper grammer when my thoughts arent even organized enough to write a fucking sentance
im fucking pathetic. i dont have any friends. nope. you cant prove me wrong either. seriously. try. i have aquaintences (Sp?). not anyone that can be considered a friend really. who do i talk to on the phone? who can i even hang out with and not feel fucking stupid and akward and hide things and be fake fake fake fake
fake
fucking fake
constantly
i sit around quietly all the time know because i can no longer communicate.
i stopped being apathetic and ignoring emotion and myself and stopped occupying myself with fake shit. now i just cant say anything. now that i dont ignore emotions theyre all fucking depressing. now that i dont live my live falsely i hate it. im ready to fucking top myself. i wouldnt do that because im not that fucking (cant think of the word. was writing weak but had to delete that and start over. its something else.) il at least work for a good long while at solving problems i create before giving up completely. ah fuck. fucking hell. this sucks. i sit in a dark room by myself with no windows more hours of the day than i do anything else. than i sleep for a little bit. than i ride a bike by myself and that takes up a good couple hours each day. than i sit on someones couch and listen to them talk and watch them do whatever talking occasionally about some trivial bullshit. lend a helping hand with my knowledge about some fucking stupid subject they were discussing. repeat. repeat. repeat. in the meanwhile i contemplate how all of my pathetic fucking fantasies would work out in my head. ive fabricated a completely false life i want to live thats really not that different than the way it is now except for a few minor details but i imagine it would be a much happier life and look forward to it so i dont have to accept this one. ive spent the majority of the last couple years thinking each little segment of it was just a transitional phase to the next that will be so much fucking better. i need a fucking long vacation. pronto. im goin to sell enough illict liqour to get the fuck out of here for awhile and go be around a few people i can be around. there i go again with my fucking fantasy life. isnt it pathetic? im going fucking insane
fucking crazy
hitting rock bottom
fucking crazy
if i dont sleep enough to the point where im delirious its alot easier to deal with shit
kind of liking that plan
il just be weak. and feeble minded. haha like im not already. ok il be weak and feeble minded without having to think and with circles under my eyes. ok bigger circles. its sad. im like a junkie without the plus of not having to deal. my junk is my fake life i look forward to and have yet to get a hold of. sucks. its like being a junkie on a planet that ran out of opiates. thatd be fan fucking tastic. fan fucking tastic.
repetition. i think in repitition sometimes. than i write in repitition.
ive been battling with myself the whole time ive been writing this in terms of whether or not to make it a public entry. i might as well huh. everyones probably grasped this already. well probably not. they probably should thou. dont wanna pull any fast ones. hahahahaha. im gonna go live out in the middle of nowhere with a couple of people i love and attain spiritual enlightenment. yeah right after i quit being apathetic yet again. i am apathetic again. ive overbalanced the fucking scales and now theyre tipping the other way. what a bitch that is huh. i make no sense. my speech patterns (well text) resemble that tweaker that gave me a ride once that was missing a foot because her boyfriend was fucked up as all hell on dope and crashed. she spoke like im writing.
ive had this thing lately where i see the city as something completely seperate from the sky. i dont know how to explain it. kind of like st pete is one of those 3d board games and the sky is just the lighting. disconnected. i dont know how to explain it.
im gonna go. same old shit different day.
i had this dream the other night. well morning because it was after phil woke up to go to work and i woke up because i heard him. in the dream me emilie and tamara were walking around in a dilapadated (spelling?) school building that resembled the old bay point middle building mixed with a california school. we were on an upper story. we were having a dissagreement and harsh words were spoken so i just started listening to my headphones. than i walk down the spiraling stairs. im on the ground floor. i walk off the concrete onto dead grass thats browned with weeds taking over. i look over at a sign thats hanging on the fence and its something fucked up that i laugh at because its so outlandishly fucked up. i keep walking a bit and hop over the fence. im making my way across the field trying to get to the other side of it and away from the building and than a baby runs up and starts maliciously attacking me. i say to it, "what do you want, money?" (?) its trying to tackle me and restrain me. its ridiculously strong and i cant move. in front of me is a bus and it turns on its lights and starts heading towards me. i realize the baby is going to cause me to die when this bus hits me so i grab onto its arm and start spinning around and fling it into the bus. instead of going thru the windshield it bounces off of the side and out of my sight. than it cuts and im on top of the bus with a gallon of tiki torch fuel. im lighting it on fire and trying to fling it at the bus in front of me that emilie and tamara are standing on. theres a hatch with two gas cans in it thats slightly open and im trying to fling the gallon at them and blow up the bus. than i wake up.
i understand the dream is (i think the word is) vulgur but bear (sp?) with me. i talked to danny about it that morning and he gave me what he interpreted it as. he also said that he didnt know if the dream was for me, or for him, or for chris, or anyone for that matter. i found that funny because the night before i was thinking about the context of other peoples dreams having a different meaning to me that helped me on the path to self discovery and meant something different to them. after that i started thinking about it and it makes sense now. ive gathered my own interpretation of it and it seems fitting. considering it came from my mind i assume it is.
another dream i had: im in rachels truck. its another ridiculously big and fancy truck from the lot. this time ridiculously bigger. for some reason the interior is like a suv. its me her emilie and these 2 stupid kids from my old school. shes giving us all rides somewhere but emilie is staying at her house. theres 2 plastic bottles of whiskey floating around in the backseat. were driving down 4th st. just like theres a embedded area in the door of my freezer where the ice and cold water comes out theres one embedded in the doors of her truck. i turn to my side and put some ice in my cup. on the rocks. havent poured my glass yet. we pass the kids house. i ask why they didnt get dropped off. im told that theyre waiting until i get dropped off and theyl be getting dropped off on the way back. i want to stay and drink. mixed emotions. than i dont know what happens.
ive got all these half assed plans to fix up my life because i cant be content with this. i dont think im being rash. this isnt it. i dont know what is thou. fuck. i need to work. or do something. i dont know. ahh. or constantly be in motion. or not do what im doing right now. i never have any money in my pocket and that would be fine. however. im always around people that do. i have habits. i havent managed to be self sufficient in terms of them yet. i dont have a place to live that isnt here right now. my batches of brew all got fucked up because i cant put them in proper fucking containers and they go to shit and then all the shit i spent on that goes down the fucking bathtub drain. i spend my paycheck from my last job on something thats guranteed to give me some cash flow and than i realize i fucked up and bought the wrong supplies and im stuck with useless shit. than im penniless which is fine because i dont have to take the bus. than jarda flips the fuck out and makes me and a couple of my friends leave after bitching about how i need to have a job if my friends are going to eat all his fucking food (which we werent). than noone can come over until my mom gets out of the hospital. than i have to sit on all my friends sofas in their apartments and take up space in their house and not have my own cigarettes to smoke and never have money to throw in on beer. than jarda loses shit again and he thinks i stole it again. than my moms fucking half dead. than my little brothers fucking half dead. than my brothers just barely alive and lucky as hell he is. than i cant get a fucking job even when i want to because im too fucking young? than i cant get out of this fucking house let alone this fucking city because i cant afford it and i cant even afford to pay my mother back for bailing my ass out when i thought i wanted to come back here. at least i have a dumpster down the street with a different set of books in it every time i check. and friends who are ok with givin me cigarettes and beer all the time. and a mom whos still alive. and a little brother and big brother who are still alive. and a place to sleep even if its not ideal. a bike that doesnt fuck up on me or get stolen. food. water with lime. a place to rant about everything. a circle jerks cd. a small group of friends even if i feel akward and invasive around the ones i have here and the rest are god knows where spread out across the fucking country.
get to fuck
im bringing my homebrewing to a whole new level. just wait.
ive also realized its 5 o clock. that means ive fucked up my schedule. AGAIN. there was a period of time since the last time i posted and now where it was fine. nope. not anymore huh.
i just looked over that rant up there and realized that is just about all my life is made up of now. fucking sad. i live like that while thinking about painting and drawing and having an apartment and this and that which i wont mention here for legal reasons, and living in the woods, farming, learning how to fix up bikes, writing music, performing music, knowing how to play music, having a dog, having people i care about and vice versa, not being this fucking fuck ahhhhhhhh
how do you expect me to use proper grammer when my thoughts arent even organized enough to write a fucking sentance
im fucking pathetic. i dont have any friends. nope. you cant prove me wrong either. seriously. try. i have aquaintences (Sp?). not anyone that can be considered a friend really. who do i talk to on the phone? who can i even hang out with and not feel fucking stupid and akward and hide things and be fake fake fake fake
fake
fucking fake
constantly
i sit around quietly all the time know because i can no longer communicate.
i stopped being apathetic and ignoring emotion and myself and stopped occupying myself with fake shit. now i just cant say anything. now that i dont ignore emotions theyre all fucking depressing. now that i dont live my live falsely i hate it. im ready to fucking top myself. i wouldnt do that because im not that fucking (cant think of the word. was writing weak but had to delete that and start over. its something else.) il at least work for a good long while at solving problems i create before giving up completely. ah fuck. fucking hell. this sucks. i sit in a dark room by myself with no windows more hours of the day than i do anything else. than i sleep for a little bit. than i ride a bike by myself and that takes up a good couple hours each day. than i sit on someones couch and listen to them talk and watch them do whatever talking occasionally about some trivial bullshit. lend a helping hand with my knowledge about some fucking stupid subject they were discussing. repeat. repeat. repeat. in the meanwhile i contemplate how all of my pathetic fucking fantasies would work out in my head. ive fabricated a completely false life i want to live thats really not that different than the way it is now except for a few minor details but i imagine it would be a much happier life and look forward to it so i dont have to accept this one. ive spent the majority of the last couple years thinking each little segment of it was just a transitional phase to the next that will be so much fucking better. i need a fucking long vacation. pronto. im goin to sell enough illict liqour to get the fuck out of here for awhile and go be around a few people i can be around. there i go again with my fucking fantasy life. isnt it pathetic? im going fucking insane
fucking crazy
hitting rock bottom
fucking crazy
if i dont sleep enough to the point where im delirious its alot easier to deal with shit
kind of liking that plan
il just be weak. and feeble minded. haha like im not already. ok il be weak and feeble minded without having to think and with circles under my eyes. ok bigger circles. its sad. im like a junkie without the plus of not having to deal. my junk is my fake life i look forward to and have yet to get a hold of. sucks. its like being a junkie on a planet that ran out of opiates. thatd be fan fucking tastic. fan fucking tastic.
repetition. i think in repitition sometimes. than i write in repitition.
ive been battling with myself the whole time ive been writing this in terms of whether or not to make it a public entry. i might as well huh. everyones probably grasped this already. well probably not. they probably should thou. dont wanna pull any fast ones. hahahahaha. im gonna go live out in the middle of nowhere with a couple of people i love and attain spiritual enlightenment. yeah right after i quit being apathetic yet again. i am apathetic again. ive overbalanced the fucking scales and now theyre tipping the other way. what a bitch that is huh. i make no sense. my speech patterns (well text) resemble that tweaker that gave me a ride once that was missing a foot because her boyfriend was fucked up as all hell on dope and crashed. she spoke like im writing.
ive had this thing lately where i see the city as something completely seperate from the sky. i dont know how to explain it. kind of like st pete is one of those 3d board games and the sky is just the lighting. disconnected. i dont know how to explain it.
im gonna go. same old shit different day.