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[20 Apr 2008|12:59am] |
My mood literally fluctuates by the second. It is a difficult thing to pin down. It flutters through my fingers, it beats at my breast, and it flies in thick, ungainly streaks. I cannot work out why my character is so dictated by mood. But it is. I am without doubt, a difficult subject, for myself, and for others. I do often wonder if I shall work out what exactly i'm supposed to be, let alone if anyone else can really love me for what I am. If I don't know.....how can they?
I find myself more often than not sitting in a bar and hearing nothing but the resounding bell of silence, that so often fills my every waking sense. Wine spears it through the heart, but when I awake, there it is, once more, gigantic and ominous. My problem is not loneliness or anything else, it is far greater. I don't know what i'm really doing here. I need to know why.
Moods. Funny old things.
I think this week has been one of the most trying in recent memory. I can't thing of a single thing that really makes me unhappy, and yet I feel so dissatisfied, so tired and wrought, so goddamned aimless.
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I can't think of a fucking thing to say now.
Night.
There is some good news. Congratulations to Rich GEEEEEEEEEZAH moto and Bolb, on their engagement. In a way , that inspires me to romantic highs of my own, despite my own wretched situation. Well done, you two.
And it's passover. A time I like, even though i'm not Jewish. I just like it. I especially like the fact you are required to drink wine. What's not to like?
Goodnight.
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[20 Apr 2008|04:22pm] |
More hilarious technological irritations. This time, the USB mouse i'd used as a replacement (Not a very good one) decided to stop working, so I had to plug in the one that came with the computer i'd replaced with it. Because that one had stopped moving left and right without me huffing and slapping the thing against the desk, hard.
Now, i've plugged the USB one in, and it works again.
I may just buy a new computer again soon. I'm like that. I spend my money mostly on computers and beer, and smoking. And incredibly expensive holidays, every couple of years. That's what I do. It makes me stave off the desire to smash my head off on a brick for a while.
And let's face it, we're all capable of maiming ourselves given the fact that planet earth is turning to shit in front of our eyes. I really am completely disollusioned with it. Today I heard of yet another piece of spiteful shitter, and that gave my faith in this shithorn race a further knock. Humanity is doomed. Many, many of them are fuckin' shitheads. I like this fact, it makes me appreciate animals like demi god more. Demi god kills birds, yes, but he's a fucking cat, and cats are born to do that. They're not equipped with the sort of mind that can decide not to do that or not. It's like a game, when you think about it. Human beings have the ability to reason what is nice and not, what is right and what isn't, what is a good thing to do, and what is a horrid thing to do.
I myself struggle, I really do. I can be terribly bitchy and tetchy, and I can often offend with my manner. I don't mean to be, but I take these flaws on board and I try to make up for them by being as nice as I can be. I do pretty well. But when I see so much shit falling around my ears, it dents my soul.
In short, human beings are, in the main, nasty, festering little dickheads. Like I said, I like being a misanthrope. It makes me like the nice people more. And they are out there.
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[20 Apr 2008|05:26pm] |
Jim Sterling is one of those good people I was talking about earlier. The thing about Jim is, he has a mind sicker than anyone you could ever hope to meet, but is in real life centered, intelligent and kind. And that, folks, is something I respect. Here's his latest edition of Uncle Cheeky, the kindly old man who teaches us all lessons about life.
http://www.morphinenation.com/?p=59
Contains scatalogical humour. The best kind.
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[20 Apr 2008|05:52pm] |
This is Sir Shittington, the well to do posh bloke who owns a mansion and is trying to gain Pinkerton's hand in marriage.
The only trouble is, every time she visits he is hungover, and shitting his arsehole raw.
A warning, this is utterly disgusting. A lot of my writing is about nice, beautiful things, but this is not only not beautiful, it's incredibly vulgar. So if you don't like talk of the brown and vomit being mixed like a stinking milkshake, don't read, please. You have been warned.
This might go on the Nation, but I don't know if i'm that happy with it. We'll see.
( Read more... )
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