until someone reads it...

i'mma fuckin' post it.
​​
i don't even feel like writing this. i don't have the motivation. plus my fingernails are too long, and it's hard to type.

three recent incidents with women.

crystal. i told you, one of the things she said that bothered me the most, was that she didn't want to touch me because my cock was too big. so i finally confronted her about that a couple weeks ago when she's trying to be my friend again. she ends up joking about it loudly infront of her two gay buddies like it's funny, still not getting my point. since then, she won't talk to me much. the other day when i was panhandling, she came to the seven eleven with her two gay buddies, i was trying to joke with her, and said 'where's my hug', when she hugs me, i said 'i'm still curious to see if i fit inside you', and she gets disgusted and says 'you had to ruin it'. i'm sorry that women don't even have a sense of humour anymore. less than five minutes later, she spreads her lips and asks me if i can see her cameltoe. are we children here?

yesterday in starfucks. i see jamie and trish crowded up around this foreign dude's computer who i took to have a heart the other day. he's not too bright, and i think his desktop looks like shit. my buddy mike thought he was more suspicious than that. a few hours later, jamie comes up behind me and hugs me, and says 'and i can hug this guy all day long'. i said 'i see you ladies crowded up around dude's laptop, and i still can't get anyone to even look at mine', and she says 'i'm walking away now'. boy, they sure don't want to hear my feelings, so what do they want to hear?

this morning. i'm sitting here, it's six:thirty am, i just got plugged in about an hour ago, i'm sitting here trying to focus on what to do. the other day when i was panhandling, the same day crystal had to 'ruin' the joke, the lady with red hair i've met a few times, that reminds me of the singer in 'lost in translation'... she sees me panhandling, and gives me ten bucks. over the last few weeks of knowing who she is, she's told me about love interests, family, friends, and what she plans to do with her life at this point... older lady, maybe in her fifties... pretty much, she wants to start doing open mics and stuff... by the way, she's told me all this before i've gotten to say a fucking thing about myself, my website, or my pursuit of talents, she doesn't know shit about me. all she's heard out of me is fragmental small talk and mumbled answers to 'how are you doing today'. that's all she wants to hear from me. anyway, this morning, she walks in, and sticks her face right in my face, right over my shoulder, damn near infront of my laptop, makes me take my headphones off, cause i'm never allowed to have my headphones on in this fucking society, because my job is to answer the dumbest questions possible, repeatedly, every five minutes throughout each day, so trying to have metal in my ears is like trying to have a female touch me. i don't get what i want in this life. people rarely give me shit, especially ears, arms, or hearts. she asks me for a dollar. i said i don't have it, i'm broke this morning. she stutters out this chunky and almost incoherent, 'then i'll never buy you a coffee again, just goes to show people's selfishness, i've been asking everyone'. at least that's what i could piece together. first of all, you didn't buy me coffee. but i felt like ranting at her in the starfucks, which would have gotten me kicked out. but i feel worse for having held back my response. i felt like saying 'what the fuck did i ever do to you? all i ever ask is to be touched or appreciated, i don't want anything else from this stupid society, i hate money, and i never get touched, you women can't even look at me, then you treat me that way when i can't fucking please you, what the fuck do you want from me? how perfect am i supposed to be before you can make it worth my time? does that question even make sense to you? i don't want your fucking money, read my fucking blog, that's what i want!'. i don't have any money, what the fuck do you want from me, i'm homeless, asshole.

i'm fine with being outdoors. i'm fine with being dirt poor, and not being able to afford anything. i'm not okay with being this invisible, untouched, unwanted, in a society that revolves more around money and paranoia, than physical contact. i give a fuck about cash. touch is my currency. and i think women's minds are too tiny and too scared to figure out what kind of touch i'm talking about.

i mean, open up your fucking heart. give yourself to someone completely. like my wife and i did with eachother within days of meeting eachother. surrender and let go of fear. that's what i fucking mean when i say touch. don't hold back, not even one hand, not even one moment. that's what i'm willing to do with every female i meet. they do not reciprocate that. and no one understands that.

i showed you that tool song, 'cold and ugly'.

underneath her skin and jewelry, hidden in her words and eyes, is a wall that's cold and ugly, and she's scared as hell.
trembling at the thought of feeling, wide awake and keeping distance, nothing seems to penetrate her, cause she's scared as hell

am i the only person that doesn't possess these fears? these inhibitions that only keep us separated from eachother? these childish excuses, that's how i see them. can we not mature? can we not grow the fuck up already?

but history has taught us not to take a chance. history has taught us that the brave do not survive. yeah, did i miss something? how the fuck did that happen? when did the weak, fragile people take over?

and how many of them do i have to wade through to find a heart? there are oceans of mindless, fearful clones around me.

and speaking of cash, i wasn't even asking you for cash anymore, you've helped me out more than enough, and you've got your daughter to worry about. if i had one person's help, though... i could still handle my own shit. before, when i was alone, and handled my own shit, that other person was my car. and i was able to take care of my mother. managed to maintain a life for five years without having it destroyed by everyone else and their 'spontaneous decisions of responsibility' that destroy everything i've ever known too often. that is, until it was destroyed by exactly that all through twenty thirteen.

you want to mend some of the heartache in this fuckin' heart, it's gonna take a lot more than ten bucks. get the broom, start sweeping up the pieces of glass. you've got to superglue every piece of glass back together with every other piece of glass, like building a fucked up puzzle, it's also kinda like the game 'operation', you can't hit the wrong sides, you've got to be very gentle, it's a delicate job, and takes a lot of human heart, and some steady hands, then, you've gotta start seeing a face in that reflection, that's the hard part. you've gotta gain trust, get that face to stop crying, break through some impossible barriers and traumas, minefields of triggers, get past the security system, and still have the dedication left that it takes to plant yourself in that heart, and get it beating again. you think you have what it takes to even grab the fucking broom? didn't think so. so thanks for the ten bucks, lady, but i'd rather give you every dime i'd ever have for a fuckin' handjob, cause it's worth more. for what i got ripped off this month, i could have bought an eight dollar hooker, but i would have given her three hundred just to emphasize to her how much more i need the physical contact and passion than she needs all that money. figure out who the fuck you're talking to please, before you act that way again. figure out that my tolerance for that treatment is gone, and next time it happens, i won't hold back. i'm tired of being walked on by you fucks who couldn't care for me if i paid you to. oh, and i forgot to add, included in the whole 'mending this heart' package deal... some other requirements in the fine print. you have to not only read all my blogs and poetry, but memorize it, give feedback on it, study it... you know... the general practice of someone who's... say... dedicated enough to life to... oh, i don't know... become perhaps an einstein scholar? see, to be a scholar of a person, you need to know everything there is to know about that person, and do you think it takes the puny level of dedication you can muster, or something a lot more grand? you dumb fuck.

do i have to join mensa to find people to talk to? do i have to join a nudist community, or fly to hedonism in fucking jamaica to find someone willing to touch me? do i have to fly to sweden to start a fucking metal band? cause it ain't fucking happening around these stagnant fucking morons in this country. small talk has retarded you. consumption has consumed you. and you've got no fucking clue.

go ahead, watch more television and forget all about me.
forget all about the value of that poem i wrote, it doesn't mean shit to you.
forget what i was saying about utopia, forget that i was even here.
and maybe someday, my share of happiness can reside in you.

but i'm sick of being misunderstood and walked on. especially by women. i want a lot more from you ladies than money. you're gonna have to get that through your impenetrable layer of fears, ignorance, and cold hard credit card protected skin, and all those layers of ugly plastic product fucking clothing you have to wear to protect the excuses why. oh, i know exactly what's in there, but it's just the pink flaps of skin i'm looking for, not all that other shit, and the wrapping, and the fucking 'sealed by nasa' label... no... i used to know this killer joke, and joe, this is just for you, in this email... ready?

you know what that useless piece of skin around a vagina is called?

woman.

sorry. i know it's good. take a moment. there you go. yeah. yeah, they don't make 'em like that anymore, i know. okay.

so... yeah. that's where my heart is this morning. it drags like an anchor through the concrete. because of you fucking females. that's what i think of you, you cowards. fuck you.

that's why i still have a picture of the mother of my children sucking my cock on my fetlife page. for what that bitch did to me, she'll always be suckin' it.

fuckin' women. useless, worthless, careless, mindless, chaotic idiots. good for no solution. and i'm still hopefully only talking about maybe ninety percent of them. the ones with price tags in their eyes.

why is everyone else so fearful. why can't i find anyone who, like me, has been through the shit enough that it's hardened the skin just enough to not still lock people out, but actually let someone in.

is that even possible. is that even worth trying.

to think, i typed this whole fucking thing anyway, even with my fingernails too long, and i'm still going. i got the point out long ago.

fucking women.

i'm so doing at least one show, if not several, where i basically go on a full on offensive against women and the mentality they have to fear men, i want that destroyed. they wanted equality, but didn't even know what they were asking for. you want equality, than let go of your fears and step up to my fucking level. meet me on my fucking level. till then, you're not worth a fuckin' handjob to me.

if i looked back on all the shit that women have destroyed in my life, or taken from me. maybe compared it to what men have destroyed in my life. and everything i've done for women.

(i'll be honest, i haven't done much for men... there's nothing from them i'm needing to get that bad).

and if they need a little incentive, i'll just bet that i'm not the only guy that feels this way... are we done here?

now i'm gonna go watch natural born killers and try to piece together some brain matter.

shit to think about

okay. i just talked to... well...

i don't even know what to think right now. my mind is like mush.

i know that there's a way i could say this, that people like me, who i'm looking for anyway, would understand better than the people i'm not looking for. i know that quite well.

because all the clone people want to hear from me is the shiny happy shit. small talk.

when they ask 'how's your day', i have to say 'good', so they can smile and go about their way.

the truth is, they don't really care how i'm doing today. and i never have a good answer for them, because i don't like to lie or say what someone else has already said.

this guy today... reminded me of what jack kerouac went through. i realized, most of this last couple years, i was focused a little more on what che guevara went through. i don't think i had forgotten, but just needed to be reminded, of the reason i'm in this. being social is just a compromise toward the goal. i question if i'm still built for that. still capable of it.

i went to recovery cafe today. just another place i don't belong. all the men couldn't stop calling me bro, all the women refused to look at me. i've lost touch with a lot of those lives. what they went through. i used to feel them better. i realize this isn't making sense to you.

what does it matter anyway, they're all dead. in the end, did they get what they wanted?

having no mind to get feedback from...

so he said to just write my own thoughts the way i'd like to say them, not worrying about what people want to hear. he said focus on the trauma, find others who might have advice, but...

if i'm the writer of these answers, i should stop asking people for them.

that's a bit of a revelation.

no one leads in this world. you all just follow, and need something to follow.

do i want to be a leader to those people, knowing what will result?

if history repeats itself, and this has been tried before, how do i get a different result?

how do i compete with products, advertisements, satiation, when reaching for an opposite goal?

and will the people ever really give a fuck, or will i just be pleasing myself?

i'm trying so hard to not be anything like my enemy, i'm not leaving much room for me to be like me.

i've never felt so closed in. like a prisoner of my own mind.

i still have the direction. the goal. and i still have no choice but to pursue it. i've got two kids to get back, a future to build that needs to be built anyway.

okay, so... let's figure this out. define my roots and reasons.

when i was a kid, i remember being disgusted and disturbed by 'jobs', 'rules', 'following orders'.

okay, well... where do i go from there? what else did he say?

forced into this, or...

deciding what to do about it. well, i saw that others had tried to destroy it, but failed.

i see that it's strong, stubborn, and can't really be torn down... people still need something to depend on, as long as they're weak.

so i thought about how to empower the rest of these humanoid creatures i share this experience with.

there are so many answers, because there are so many different problems plaguing them all.

things that weaken them. pain. bad drugs. excuses. enterbrainment. satiation.

all while under a system that only serves itself. walls of excuses. immaturity.

so i guess... i once saw something better. i tried to see the potential of this planet. the better version.

i thought if i built utopia... maybe others like me might go there, and i could finally talk to people, be understood. be touched. that's really all i've ever wanted. i'm a writer because it's vital, necessary, but if life were my choice, i'd rather communicate with touch than words. words are valuable, but touch is important. vital. i don't know. sometimes i question if i want to participate in this world at all, or just find another one. i know there are other ones, despite what this world tells me.

so why do i see something different than what these clones see?

i see the reflections of products in their eyes.

and i know they can't see the utopia in my eyes. nor the pain.

and how i hate them. i loathe them. i walk past them on the street, i hear the bullshit they talk about, and how they talk about it, like children. and this is the norm. when i walk past guys, i overhear them saying the dumbest shit. and then women are no better. this one lady i passed by today, talking to two guys by a car outside a hotel. this is what she's saying as i pass by.

it's like this show, with like creepy alien stuff. and so oh my god, so there's this one episode...

she looked at least thirty to me.

then, i passed by this other girl... i never let people use my lighters. but this girl, i already passed by her, and i hear her say 'do you have a lighter'. i thought it might be a chance to talk to a girl, to meet one, to have the conversation last longer than one minute. i turn around, but i can't hide the pain in my eyes, i don't even really try. i know i'm fuckin' miserable. that means it's them who needs to accept it, and look beyond it. i'm not their 'cheer you up' pill. that's what i'm initiating the conversation with them for. i walk up to her. i ask if she has a cigarette. she says 'please'. i said 'please'. she had a hole in her shirt, part of her tit and bra were visible. politely, i tried to say 'i like your shirt'. i wasn't able to say any more than that, before they started walking away, she looks down, turns and looks at her friend, smacks her shoulder, and says 'why didn't you tell me'. didn't once turn and look back at me. i stood there for a few seconds, just watching.

what would i have had to do differently, to make that go any differently. before some other douchebag walks up and takes over.

i feel like i have to dissect this issue, find a solution to this... whatever the fuck this shit is that we're in right now. he used words like 'existentialism'. the whole 'what are we doing here' thing.

told me about people that lived through world war one, and wrote books like 'the meaning of life'.

honestly, it blurred past me. i understood it, but once i walked out of there, and up to recovery cafe...

i know that what would have made this shit easier for the last two years of traveling and trying to get things started with people who don't understand my goal... would have been having a lady next to me. i really wish that my...

i really wish you hadn't left me. i wish i hadn't lost it. i'm sorry. you were the only one who looked at me with fascination. you would have been my salvation through all of this. i'm sorry i lost you. i'm sorry i hurt you. i'm sorry i pushed you away. i didn't mean to. i miss you so much. i hear so many women say 'i'm not like any other woman', but they're all the same compared to you. you were fascinating. unique. i don't know why i hurt you, but i wish i could take it back.

this whole time... you left, mom died... i kinda forgot who i had to write to. to talk to. i'd been talking to myself for too long. forgot that anyone was listening. i feel retarded when i try to describe you to anyone. terms they misunderstand... the unique world you and i carved out of the remnants of this decaying world, it really doesn't translate to people. it was more than just love.

you empowered me. like a phone looking for a power outlet. i miss that.

have i forgotten what it was i'm searching for?

have i lost myself again in that field... what that mirror.

most of the metalheads i've met are immature, belligerent assholes. i'm so displeased by that.
they're also just as antisocial as i am. i never thought the point to metal was socializing, but okay...

so what if all my types of people are as horrible at socializing as i am? is that why i can't find them?

what rock are they hiding under.

i know we're all scared of this outcome. we know what's coming.

we're the only chance against it. we're the only thing capable of surviving it.

otherwise... we existed for nothing. to find our answer is to define our answer.

are we not the writers of our destiny... whatever the fuck destiny would be at this point. a cheap product on a store shelf?

so... i'm trying to find metalheads, potheads, nudists... open minded people.

people more willing to touch me than consumers with products in their eyes.

the message i'm still trying to send out through that cloud is still simple... it's utopia.

i'm hellbent on building it now. i know this planet can step bravely forward. we just need a place to meet, to learn, and to make that decision. i know that's the answer to step one.

so... my ideas... if they're still viable...

open mic shows. youtube videoblog document my entire rise... okay... well... i can start there perhaps.

how the fuck do i start that? it's always my mind weighing between what they want to hear, and what needs to be said. they never take the hard news the right way. i thought ambition would attract someone to me, but that's never going to happen. and after what that guy said... maybe it doesn't need to. i'm just so sick of being so brutally alone, and having to think of this shit myself.

after this happens, if anyone wants to say 'oh, it wasn't that hard of a job'...

okay, then, next time we have to defeat a pyramid to build utopia on this planet so we can evolve past the adolescent stage, you get to conceive the entire plan, and let's see how well you do, asshole.

science fiction hasn't reached far enough for me. i wonder if any geek will ever truly understand that. cause that's the simplest way i can put it.

what's always confused me about linear time, though, is that... so many people... the guy i talked to today said he felt like he should have been born forty years earlier. he said the same thing about me, and i agreed, but... there are so many others on the other side of this time lapse... the ones they use the term 'ahead of his time' for. so we're even separated by death in this haze. twenty years. thirty years. fifty years.

where are we put into this line? for what reasons? why so many ahead of this moment, and why so many behind it? beyond it? is there any way, in this fog, to see those minds again?

and fucking abbie hoffman. i can't stop thinking about him, too. the shit that's happened to us.

all because we submitted to the enemy when we should have stood against them. risked everything. died.

we die either way.

then we're never found by people after us.

buried in dust. forgotten in memories. shattered images.

so... how can this answer be written. and can it be written by me alone.

start thinking about the beginning, how do you start it off. what needs to be said.

first of all, i'm not saying it to the clones. their sensitive ears can't handle this anyway, so trying to phrase it lightly for them is pointless. i'm talking to my type of people. metalheads and other colourfully assorted, artificially flavoured, candy coated open minded people.

then, from their, i'll have to dig to the more mature ones who don't order me around.

i've tried fetlife. some of the most immature people on there.
i've tried deviantart. i've got nothing to say about that site anymore.
dating sites, social networks...

and all i'm looking for, is a lady who...

that's what baffles me. infuriates me.

i'm just trying to find a lady who can look at me, and not look away.

it's too much to ask for, but somehow, i know i can find it somewhere. i get so hopeless trying.

women don't give a shit about you unless you have a paycheck. which means they just want a free ride through life. but i'm not looking for those women.

i'd like a lady who doesn't tell me to shower constantly.

i told him about this thing i saw on naked news. they polled a bunch of women, asking them what they look for in a guy. they all said the same fucking thing. two words.

shower and a job. shower and a job. shower and a job. over and over.

seriously, ladies? that's all you care about? and this was in canada! i thought for sure you'd be more openminded than america, what the fuck.

shower and a job.

i remember in field of dreams, when ray asks terence what he wants, he starts ranting, ray says 'no, i mean... what do you want'... they're at the baseball game, and he says 'oh... dog and a beer'. ray says 'two'.

as much as i still love that scene, i cannot stand that people are that simple. where is your complexity? terence mann wrote books, fought for freedom, he was fictional!

and the douchebag male authorities who always tell me 'you watch too many movies'.

first of all, assmaggot, you guys made the fuckin' movies.
and secondly... you haven't seen enough.

how does one expand their mind?

does anyone have a sensible answer to that?

how would you expand your mind?

entertainment?
education?
enthusiasm?
inspiration?
curiosity?

do you hunt after what you're curious for?

does anyone else even give a shit? do you question these things, or do you just think yourself better than me and don't need to prove it? i assume the worst, i have no faith in 'you'.

and a horrible track record...

maybe it's pointless.

should i keep doing this.

would anyone but me truly benefit.

how far should i go, just to be touched and appreciated.

yearning for these things for so long, i guess i'd forgotten how to find them.

i know i've forgotten how to talk to women.

again, it's the balancing act between what they want to hear, and what i want to say.

so... i'm still back at the starting point. step one. how to find metalheads and females. and at a loss for answers. no inspiration, no motivation, no confidence, other than it needs to be done.

for me to be happy... it's never going to walk up to me in this life. i've resigned to that.

i still resist, but there's no point.

any energy i could put out there wouldn't be seen. it hasn't been yet.

so... open mic, metal band... youtube... weed shop girl... magic store girl... and skye.

god, can i get up the confidence...

and again, what the fuck needs to be said? cause i always feel like i say the wrong thing no matter how hard i try, it comes out wrong. rushed, condensed...

i'm not looking for weak women who just want the positive side of life, i don't do the shiny happy shit you ladies want to hear, i'm a smelly human metalhead high octane mutherfucker, and i'd like to see this planet cash free before i die. zero currency. you need to get this through your head if you're even going to give me a chance... we don't need to buy and sell shit to exist on this planet.

all we need to do, is not be afraid to touch and be touched. isn't that what we originally wanted in the first place, or was someone scared of the garden of eden? (if it existed).

the fictional tale we've built ourselves into, and we wonder who we are.

the residue of our previous self laughing at us.

the stench. the waste. this human organism. that monetary mechanism.

and the volatile dichotomy between. at least, that's how i see it.

i'd rather die in a world that values touch more than... well... what does money even bring us.

satiation?
gratification?
satisfaction?

what is that worth? if it only serves to weaken us?

either way, i'd rather never pay to be touched. i want someone to want to touch me.

i want to think that i'm not that disgusting.

i guess i've gotten the thought out, but it still doesn't make much sense to me.

i just have to squeeze my nuts and walk down to the weed shop.

she ain't walkin' my way.

...
addition:

all i've ever really wanted, for a lot of my life, is for a lady to walk up to me.
i've realized that's never going to happen.

i'm exhausted with initiating the conversations. and having no control over them from there.

i've seen so many people who have their 'best friend'. people who travel in pairs.

i'll never have that.

maybe i'm more confused now.
i don't know what to think.

did i miss the point somewhere, i thought at one point... i decided not to pursue a girl.

that it's too pointless.

i can't picture doing this without a girl, though. otherwise, who the fuck am i doing it for, who do i have to do it for in that moment? my headphones are dying. that's great.

okay, so... thinking of how to start the youtube video thing, and... thinking about walking down to osl, or up to the weed shop, but i have to panhandle first.

no woman is ever going to walk up to me.
that simple fact right there makes me wish i lived on a different planet altogether.

but while i'm here, i want to try my best to make that... happen.

make women approach me(n).

i still really don't consider myself among men... i'm not saying that right.

there are males and females on this planet. and then there are men and women. i may happen to be a male, but when other guys talk about 'what a real man is', all it does is disgust me how elementary they get. i have a completely different and much more complex idea of what a male should be. all that horseshit about 'be a man' and 'act like a man'... in my head, it's defined as 'just act like me so i feel less like a loser'. that's all they're saying to me. that's all i hear. you want to talk about what it's like to be a man, the conversation starts when it's understood that we as a collective species have yet to truly define anything appropriate along those lines... we start from scratch.

until then, or as long as you keep calling me 'bro' and dragging your pants on the ground...

i'd rather talk to women only. i'm fed up with men. i'm sick of men. i fucking hate men. i've never seen the point to having friendships with men, what do they have to offer in a society based on 'what i have that he doesn't have'.

i wish i could find anyone else who knows this lyric...

'we are living; there's no deed in indulgence, a faded glory, relying on me and mine, the exile from human ecstasy to a place where we're engineered'.

you keep calling me bro. i gotta be honest here, every time a guy calls me bro, i want to punch him in the face. every time a guy calls me bro, i cringe, and only want to talk to a female. it is a trigger for me. anger issues rise up as soon as i hear it. i'm fucking sick of it. i'm not your fucking brother.

i'm an only child.
my mother's dead.
never needed a father.
never liked dominant influences in my life.
never liked authority and jobs.

are you starting to see the fucking picture yet?

let me repeat that...

i'm an only child.
my mother died last year.
my father was too much of a pussy.
thus, dominant, authoritative fucks just look like neanderthals to me.

i see right through you, and all your ancestors as soon as you cross that line with me.

the minute you tell me what to do, you're my enemy.

can you understand that yet?

i'm not your fucking brother.
i don't act like you.
i don't look like you.
i don't talk like you.

i am not your fucking brother!

you family dependent weakling.

i hate my family. my mother was the only family i liked.

i never wanted a brother, or a sister, i even hated my cousins. i never wanted a father. i hated my two idiot uncles, the drug addict, and the guntoting militant asshole. i never wanted to be either one of them.

i'm disconnected from society. i have nothing. i need no family. i don't really even invest much in friends anymore, as i've never gotten much out of 'friendship'.

if i'm looking for something more than that, and you're not, then let me be the one to find it.

that means stop calling me bro and get the fuck out of my way.

i do not want any brothers. nor do i want to be part of a 'brotherhood' of any sort.

i honestly even hate the word 'brother' at this point. accept for the alice in chains song. though it's not one of my favs, i prefer 'i stay away' and 'rotten apple'. not a big fan of that word. hating it the more i hear it. so go ahead, guys, keep it up. i already think all men are immature. do you want to make it better, or worse? i'm not the one who's suckin' your dick, so get the fuck off me, get your ass out of my face, pull your fucking pants up... i'm not going to say it again. i'm just going to start punching guys every time they call me 'bro'. if they get hostile and violent, i'll pull my knife out, and stick it right in their nose. get your hostile ass the fuck away from me, asshole. i fucking hate men like you, and you're only making me more homicidal and suicidal.

they all listen to rap music.
they all talk to women the same way.
they all think the same way.

you need to understand. i am not like you. i will never be like you.

i have made the choice, long ago, to be nothing at all like you. to stand far away from you.

i made that choice in elementary school.

this one class one day... they had all the boys acting out war battle type scenes.
making us roll around on the floor, shooting imaginary guns at imaginary enemies.

i assume, for the ladies to watch.

then, they had the ladies play shopping party and dress up.

if those are the roles you had set in place for us...

and you wonder why i refuse to fit into that mold...

will this ever end?
will i ever be understood?

that's why i don't claim to be among 'men'. because whatever 'men' is, is wrong.

i've even always hated the fact that 'human' and 'woman' contain the word 'man'.

humanity is a vague reference on a bathroom mirror in a dingy bar.

you need to know a lot more about me if you're going to claim to know me, or to even try to assume that i'm claiming to be among the rest of 'men'. i am no part of them. i have nothing to do with them.

we share nothing.

i'm sorry. i don't mean to be that way. i'm very sorry to whoever that offends. i truly am.

but the day you pull your pants up, stop calling me bro, and stop poking your finger in my chest...

on that day, we'll kick back and 'chat', and i might even have a beer with you.

not your crap ass hoodrat beer, and not your 'sophisticated alcoholic' beer...

i'll buy my own mike's classic margarita or blood orange or mango whatever they had.

and i'm sorry if that's not 'manly' enough for you, but if you define 'men' by not having any taste buds and drinking liquid shit, and forcing that on me... then we need to start over from the beginning, don't we?

you ask for respect, but you're incapable of understanding the reciprocal factor with someone completely alien to you. imagine sharing a beer with an alien, then. yours is brown and tastes like shit, theirs is purple and tastes like gummy worms from arcturus...

they'd say the same thing about you, you know.

am i rambling myself into more confusion, repeating myself, or am i figuring out anything new?

i'm repeating myself. i've had to say this shit too many times, and no one's read it.

and convenience is a product.

i hate this fucking planet.

i do not belong here.

i don't need to do shit. what you need to do is realize that i don't have to do what you want.

it's as simple as that.

i'm sorry. but you need to meet me on my level from this point on. or i won't acknowledge you, i'll ignore you like women ignore me.

if i could count how many times a day you call me bro...
if i could somehow use that number against you in the end...

i don't mean to seem so hateful, but... i'm just stating my opinion, i honestly think that most men on this planet, are way too masculine, or way too feminine, and none of them have a clue what either side really is. they do not have any gauge on which to judge one side or the other.

but they do. oh, but they do, so very much.

i'm sorry, that's just the way i see it. i can't help that. you want to change that, then take me back in time twenty years, and give me something to be happy about.

you don't know anything about me. i have no faith that you ever will. there's too much of you in the way. too much ego, too much pride. sorry, just had to get that out.

fuck it, moving on. now that that's out, what's the goal again. step one.

god, my fucking brain.

i really don't think i'll be able to see the solution till i get all this negativity and trauma out of me, and i'm able to move on. either that, or a female walks up to me.

i have no choice but to pursue the more likely, and leave the other to fuckin' rot.

meanwhile my heart dies more and more every day.

the fact that i had to go through this whole two years of traveling alone.

fuck it. just let it go. move on. think for yourself.

i used to be able to empower myself by focusing on things, i've been robbed of that lately.

every time i watch a good video, and get an ounce of inspiration, as soon as i contemplate what it would require to succeed walking out the door, the motivation deflates. how do i fix that.

i know the hill is up and far...
and i'm exhausted.

drained.

focus on smaller steps.

no... focus on one small step at a time.

what am i trying to build? a new life. with a female and a band. shouldn't be that hard to accomplish.

goal number one: find a girl. not happening.
goal number two: start a band. not happening.

i'm not gonna find the girl till i get the band, cause that's how bad this world sucks.

so... well, now i'm confused again. smaller steps. open mic. youtube.

fuck it... i'll just talk to youtube for the next few days then.

i'll make that my mission this week, fuckin' forge a friendship with youtube.

would it be a better friend than what i've found so far? i doubt it.

but i guess it's worth the try. we'll see how disastrous this can be.

The Moron Condition

I am so sick of people telling me what they think they know about me. If you think i'm just a big old ball of negative hatred, it just shows me how little you know about me, and that's all it does. And even if it were relevant in some setting, I still don't give a fuzzy hootin' horse fuck what you think about me. So, sorry to shoot you down there, but i'm insanely sick of your immature kind misunderstanding me like it's still funny. Diagnosing me like your opinion matters. All these products, inventions, and distractions, never quite obscured the plain and simple fact that whatever you think you know about me, you're wrong. And you're gonna keep being wrong until I meet you and decide whether you genuinely understand me or not. Duh.