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Below are the 6 most recent journal entries recorded in
Aus' Blurty:
| Wednesday, February 4th, 2004 | |
| 1:46 pm | Why is it ever time life presents one of its precious moments it snatches it back just as you start to enjoy it. You just begin to get the ooohhh ahhhh feeling and like a guy with pre-mature ejaculation problems, it’s taken form you before you enjoy its climax? Ok.. that sounded gay….. and no I’m not, but thankx for askin. But as I was spewing out “The lord givith… and the lord taketh away”. What can a fool do about it? As my old Chinese teacher usta say, “be as the duck in water, and let it run off your ass as you stay afloat” Ok.. so I was never told that by an old Chinese teacher.. it just sounded funny in my head. Damn… seems a lot of stuff that sounds funny in my head really isn’t…. I’ve been realizing that my friends are laughing at me, not with me. Ah hell… I don’t’ care as long as they are laughing. Some one responded to me here and said “Smiles rock” (if you are reading this you rock for thinking that!) Well laughing rocks more…. Laughing is a powerful thing. I’m not talking about the school boy giggle after he saw his class mates skirt blow up… I’m talking about the just peed yourself, busted a gut, made you snort kinda laugh. It’s powerful because in a lot of ways it’s like crying… you get that much needed pent up release.. much like an orgasm that you had to work for-for like an hour. It feels good to cry.. yea, I’m a guy who cries, I admit it. Shoot, but a Disney movie on around me and you’ll see water falls. Don’t think I’m some kinda pansy though, that’d be your 1st mistake cause I’ll throw a beating just as easily as I cry. Who would thought… a thug with a romantic soft side. Shit. I’m a walking oxymoron (the 1st one of you that tells me to drop the ‘oxy’ off that gets it damn it!) What the freak was I talking about? Damn it.. to much coffee and diet meds makes me one squirly individual…. And no.. I’m not lookin for a nut. Crying… that was the subject.. so yea.. I’m learning if you try to keep it down inside you will eventually burst. To have a melt down of that magnitude.. well…. If I was San Francisco, and the melt down was a quake… there’d be no freaking city left. What am I trying to say here… let me think… Ok: Just let it out, don’t fight it… go with it. Where the hell all that came from I haven’t a clue… but then some wold argue IO don’t have a clue any way so it’s nothing new. Hey, the best defense is to underestimate, but then it’s true to be told the worst offence is to overestimate yourself. Humm… need to think on that. Any how… After drowning myself in the better half of a bottle of Southern Comfort last night I have what alcoholics call a moment of clarity. The room stopped spinning, My thoughts were crystal and for a brief moment I was able to reflect on some much needed profound thoughts: Right now I’m dealing with being rejected. It hurts. It hurts A LOT. Hurts not just emotionally, but my pride. I have never once been rejected by a lady who had caught my interest. I’m not bragging or being conceded, just offering background. So when this happened it killed my self-esteem and I spun into self pity. My confidence had dropped and depression had seeped in. and last night I had a that thought while thinking of this… “What the hell is wrong with me? I am me, I have endured worse against me, and I have caused much more to others. I have let this come close to break me… and I never break myself.” So wha-la I’m fixed. After all if some one doesn’t like you why would you want to be with them. I’m stressing over this? Over one girl who I saw for like 2.3 seconds when there are literally a few who have/are chasing me. I guess I’m too picky though… because of the few who want me I’m not really feeling the same in return. The game plan… get a second job…Make that money boy.. stack that cash and get my “Lexus is300” and then buy my home. Yea… that’ll be it for me. New rule. I’ll date, but no commitments for awhile. It’s me time baby.. look out world, Aus is back! |
| 1:46 pm | ~o0O RuN O0o~ Fade to black. Exit Stage left quickly as you can. Run, Disappear or camaflosh yourself. Remember Smile and no one suspects you: Imposter. Blend as you can as you do Chameleon. Is it really you or is it me Dolpergainer? To thy own self be true? You Never what you appear Always Trying to be something you’re not. Forever Attracting the weary like me. Living The only way you know how. Now. Running from people like me… Freeze But never out of fear Curiosity Your biggest weapon My One grave down fall. Emotion. ~Me |
| Monday, February 2nd, 2004 | |
| 1:27 am | The ringing in my ears isn’t from my phone for once, nor the doorbell my house doesn’t posses. It’s not the alarm clock I have dramatic fantasies about shooting with small hand cannons. It’s the remanance of being hit with a bottle of Southern Comfort. Not literally my little friends, there was no ‘thump’ in the night, but quit unintelligently it hit my gullet and down the sweet succubus’s juice flowed. The burn in my belly was ripe, the tinge of acid reflex in my throat reminding me of the foul act I just laid upon my body. For those of you who don’t know, and that would in deed be all of you (and if you do know stop stocking me for I haven’t mentioned it yet!) I am Irish, and I have relied on this beautiful fact for many years to get me threw drunken nights and even more feared: the morning after. But tonight is would seem that lady luck has run out on me (the whore!) and left me with a hang over before I’ve even fallen to meet dear ol’ Mr. Sandman. What happened to the Irish not getting these evil.. these vial things? I’ve been gypped I tell you. By heritage alone I should be exempt. By body mass alone I should have been able to still say my ABCs back wards…. No.. that’s a lie.. Even being dyslexic I can’t conquer that feet sober. I’ll have a talkin to with St. Patty when I reach the perly gates many years from now… and remind him of the day he forgot to bless my hang over away. Good night my lovelies… good night! |
| Sunday, February 1st, 2004 | |
| 8:48 am | Some times it’s clear. I’m an emotional masochist. I think too far into things and rain on my own parade. I shoot myself down, and then when I’m feeling ballsy I do my very best to stand back up, only to shoot myself in the foot. I gotta, I must, I have to break the cycle. She loves me, She loves me not…She loves me (yeah!) She loves me not (awww.) She…. Aw Christ on a broken Crutch, why are woman so hard to understand? See.. It’s not fair…. Not because I don’t understand women… I just don’t understand the women I like. I’m the guy that all his fem friends come running to when they need a shoulder to cry on, or call when they need to know what skirt goes with what shoes they own.. (call me gay and I’ll throw ya a beatin…no I don’t have a prob w/ gay folks, my best friend is gay) So sometimes.. most of the time even I understand women. Why the hell can’t I understand them when my own emotion in involved? It’s messed up is what it is. Why am I even thinking about this before my morning coffee? Geez I gotta be out of my friggen mind…. Oh wait, I already established I’m out of my friggin mind, I’m trying to understand woman. I don’t know what this world is going to bring, but I know one thing, this is the life for me….cause baby I’m a thug. Ok..ok… maybe I’m not any more… but I can’t forget my roots. My subjects seem to swing like a bipolar girl’s moods, don’t they? I should be cleaning up the house. My landlord (he acts like a damn Lord) is coming to inspect the house so we can re sign the lease for another year. That will calm my nerves a little when it’s all said and done. He’s come and talked to us a couple of times about it. If it’s not up to his standards we get the boot. We aren’t complete slobs or anything, it’s just that I’ve been working more then a full time job, add into the mix I’m head over heals for a certain lady and have been spending a mad amount of time with her, I haven’t had much time to breath…much less cut the grass and clean out the garage. I’m throwing a party in a few weeks any way… it needs to be cleaned up for that. My last party boasted over 140 people and 7 DJs. I guess it helps that I usata throw raves. I like knowing what I’m doing…. Not many of us males can say they can do that, “know what they are doing” that is. OK… off to be a real man now and take out the trash. You kids have a beautiful day………… |
| Saturday, January 31st, 2004 | |
| 10:19 am | I woke up this morning to the schrill schreek of my alarm. It was like a freight train blowing it’s horn in the distance, coming closer… closer….closer… until it seemed to be right on top of me. I bolt up right and thrash my head around in fear looking for the train that is about to claim my life… And there goes the insistent beeping of my alarm. I hate being startled awake. Good God. It’s past 10am, When was the last time I’ve slept in this long. It’s an indulgence that I feel like I should be guilty over. Waking up at nearly dawn for so long can turn one’s mind this way. But look.. I no longer have that NEED. Perhaps I should keep up the practice? Keep rolling out of my bed and going threw the seemingly robotic habits that have allowed me to wake up and be a productive part of society for so long? I want a gun.. I want one now. Something small would do, let’s say……50 caliber! I would kill that alarm clock and send it to never never land…. Where apparently I was just dreaming of. Shoot… do I fight the system that I’ve created for myself? Or fight the self-destructive habits that come when routine is broken? Ok.. Just took another 5minets from my life with a delectable cancer stick. Things are in perspective again. I mustn’t kill the alarm clock, it’s my cell phone, I’d die with out my life line to the world. Sad, I know. I mustn’t conform to bad habits of too many of my friends and of my old ways of being lazy and sitting on the couch all day, endearing Mr. Jerry Springier and thinking…”this episode is about my life…again”. I must fight to keep the happy corporate America plastic smile about getting up early, putting on my tie after shining my shoes and heading out the house when the birds are starting to show they are awake with song. I must be strong, not allow myself to get overwhelmed again… I must go find that ever-elusive 2end job so I can pay my ever-insistent bills. God I HATE mornings. I go from serial killer of electronic goods, to the mamma’s boy, “just 5 more minutes.. I swear I’ll get up” to this: Awake, ultra alert, sharp as a rusty razor and ready to tackle the world…..one moron at a time. |
| 12:57 am | In the begining... So this is the beginning. I created this journal out of boredom, then it stuck me, no one knows me here… I can say anything I like uncensored without fear of repercussions. I know too many people in person to do this in my other journal. I don’t want to start drama within my group of friends, but some times I just need to vent. I need that release I’m missing. That feeling of satisfaction after a wonderful cry. That breath of relief you get when you find that the rent check acutely didn’t bounce. I don’t need an out; I just need to get it all out. You know what I mean? I guess we will find out. Current Mood: contemplative |