For the lack of better terms...

My reality was strangely visible to me at one point of the light psychedelic journey I was on, and I could allow the trip to come on stronger or go away enough that I could address people in public and not get arrested for freaking out about the walls breathing, the windows vibrating, or the pregnant oompa loompa in front of me at the gas station when I was buying yet another beer to quench my thirst. The trip started to gt the best of me at one point as I was pondering how it was physically possible that the oompa loompa in front of me had gotten pregnant by the creepy looking redneck with the bloodshot eyes.
"Didn't she used to be a stripper?" A voice from in front of me asks.
I couldn't control the trip, but as long as I didn't let it control me I knew I'd be fine. "Yes. Maybe. No? I think. Wouldn't the stripper pole be a health hazard for her? The girl's four and a half feet tall. If she fell from the pole..." The woman behind the counter is staring at me like I forgot to wipe the hastily drawn penises from my forehead that had shown up after going out to a party near the college where I must have blacked out or fallen asleep. Why is she staring at me? Do I have a drawn on penis on my face somewhere?
And if I do, did they at least have the common courtesy to draw it, and not trace their own?
My face started to itch in the spots that I could swear there was a wang traced by some drunken college idiot.

"Here you go." I say as I hand her my dollar twenty seven  and turn towards the door to keep myself from freaking out like someone with agoraphobia that's just been dropped into the middle of a concert stadium that's full of people.
"You alright man?" She asks me.
"Yeah I just need a smoke... I'm fiending and it makes me act weird."
She smirks and tells me that I act weird anyways, and I tell her to shut up.
This smoke tastes like mint. And ammonia. Minty Ammonia is an interesting flavor for cigs. Not sure if I like that or not.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Life. Is it really so bad?

I'm currently living with no heat, or running water, and I am also about to have my electric shut off.
I can't find work in this area because for one, No one hires guys that have been to prison for theft and burglary, and two... No one seems to be hiring to begin with.
So here I sit, with no heat, no water and with zero income, and no way of getting out of this perpetual clusterfuck of a life I'm living...
 ...and I'm not even stressed out, mad or upset about it.

You know why?

Well...one reason is that I've lived in worse conditions, with less than I have now.
You can't get much worse than living in a tent with nothing but a dog, a knife, a guitar and a sleeping bag. Other than taking it all away, that is...

The other, bigger reason is because despite the fact that the things I don't have are the basic elements of a "happy life", I was honestly happier when I had nothing.
Despite the fact that I sound like some convoluted buddhist, I really am happier with less.
It could be the part of me that hates responsibility coming out and saying that the less I have, the less responsibility I have, or it could be the simple fact that I'm too simple a man for my own good. I could be living in a cave in the middle of no where, with nothing, and still be happy.
The sun still shines, the rain still falls. That's life, man.

PART TWO!!!

People have been telling me that I'm wasting my potential since I was a teenager. I just want to know what the hell you're all talking about. What exactly are you talking about? I can look at something, and draw it. I hear a song on the radio, and within a few minutes will be able to play it on guitar. I can talk an eskimo into buying ice, and I can talk the devil into buying a flamethrower. I can rebuild and repair just about anything that's put in front of me within a short period of time. I can walk into the food court at the mall and if there's a female that speaks english behind the counter, I can usually walk away with a free meal. I can talk my way out of tickets, or just piss the cops off enough that I only get a lesser charge because they were too pissed and forgot what my original charges were...
What exactly are you talking about when you say I'm wasting potential?
I mean, I've got the perfect brain to be a master con man... Maybe I should hone up on that to shut you up. Getting told that I'm wasting my potential by someone who's stuck in a rut in their own life is frustrating. So what if I can talk you out of your wallet, rolex, and car, and get myself a brand new armani suit in the process... And I can paint you a picture of it happening, and then write you a song on my guitar telling you how I did it...

Potential is like time. It's only wasted if you're not enjoying the time you're wasting.
Maybe my mind operates on too much of an abstract level for me to get by in your world.
Maybe I don't care.
Either way, live your lives and enjoy it.
There are ruts along the way, just climb out and keep going, or enjoy the weather at a lower altitude.
I'm getting pretty scatter brained at this point, So I'm going to quit writing now.
Have a good day.
The sun still rises, an you're reading this.

Whoa! Shut it down! ((a rant))

There are no more iconoclasts.

There are fewer and fewer individuals existing due to the fact that their individualism is being cloned by the Hot Topics and MTVs of the world, making every individual a part of a recently non-existent trend... A trend that we feed day by day, and hour by hour with our sense of blind consumerism and our need for everything to stay within our own personal comfort zone.

Every day that we are alive, we are adding more strings to ourselves, blind to the fact that one day, our little consumerist loving gods are going to take control of the strings, and make us all dance around like marionettes until we are nothing but rotting shells.

Refuse.

Resist.

Destroy.

Rebuild.

Repeat if needed.

The Closest Thing to Closure...

One thing I really hate in this world are self-righteous, fatalistic, manipulative fat chicks.

A friend of mine was dating one of those for a little while, and in all honesty, I thought he needed to go get his eyes checked... I mean, what person with working eyes could bone an overweight female that looks like a mentally retarded version of Jay Leno? I mean no offense to the mentally impaired and their families, And Jay Leno can go fuck himself with a running chainsaw, but seriously though... This chick looked like someone decided to cross Leno's DNA with the DNA of a fucking manatee.

...and guess what?

That's not even the part that made me hate her...

I'm the type of person that's pretty accepting of people's faults and quirks, and I love new people because I love the stories of their past that their idiosyncrasies show... but damn. When I met this chick for the first time, The only thing I wanted to know was which end of the short bus she fell off of. 

Anyone with half a brain could tell that most of what she was saying was a well practiced lie to get people to feel sorry for her. 

For Example : Her husband, who is active duty in the navy, knocked out her front teeth, beat her repetitively and raped her a few times... and yet he's still in the navy. Sorry, but I'm friends with a bunch of guys that are active duty in the freaking navy, and from what I was told, if they even blast ass on the wrong side of the ship, they're penalized.

 

BACK TO THE SUBJECT...

i.e... the part that made me hate her.

Sorry, I got off subject...

The thing that made me hate this worthless piece of shit woman was the fact that almost everything that came out of her mouth was a lie shaped to make people feel sorry for her... Sorry, I'd rather put my bare nutsack on an electric fence that's designed for elephants while it's on than listen to her bullshit.

I swear I lost 100 IQ points from the few times I was near her.

Seriously, who could feel sorry for someone when their medical problems are the result of their sedentary lifestyle? I mean, you do nothing but sit around all day long, doing nothing but thinking up lies to tell, snorting pain pills and eating high cholesterol and fatty foods... Why would I feel sorry for you when your knees are acting up after you walked 300 feet? Seriously, that's like putting the shocks from a VW Beetle on a fucking Peterbilt.

So... Feel sorry for you, and pity you? Yeah, you may need to go tighten up your bicycle helmet if you think I'm gonna feel sorry for you for being a worthless, fat, piece of shit that's only going to amount to another forgotten tombstone in a lonely graveyard when you die. 

 

Blue 42

Hi there.
You're checking out my first blog.
Thank you.
Let me say one thing before I begin... This is where I'm going to rant, rave, review concerts, and attempt to blow peoples sense of well-being out the back of their head.
Oh, I make fun of self-righteous fucktards alot, too.
AAAANNNDDDDDDD I curse alot, so if you're offended by profanity or other vulgarities, I suggest you turn back now.