humaniated

i'm just gonna keep feeling humiliated and ashamed no matter what i try to do. yesterday sucked, so i thought i'd finish off the day by going to the nude beach by myself. what a miserable experience. i'm sitting there alone. people keep staring at me. there's barely anyone naked. i'm even feeling like a creep/pervert/criminal just for getting some air on my legs finally. this one biracial couple passes by me, and the black girl has to stop and look like she's creeped out, then the white guy has to say 'oh, what, double take?'. a few moments later, i'm trying to take a few quick pictures to put on instagram, and i overhear one of the girls... i only heard a couple words she said, i forget the first one, but the second was this whiny, sarcastic utterance of 'instagram', as if to say 'gotta post on instagram'. like making fun of me for having a phone, whether or not you know what the fuck i'm doing on it. excuse me for taking a few pictures, what, i'm not supposed to be a photographer while i'm homeless? i don't have the right to take pictures when i'm poorer than you? i'm not allowed to sit over by myself at a nude beach? it's too creepy for you to handle? you all look a lot more trendy than i am, and you're gonna give me shit for posting on instagram? right about then, i get a text. earlier yesterday, when i was still downtown, i asked jaymie if she'd go to the nude beach with me. the day before, bob told me they had broken up for good. so i figured it wouldn't hurt anything to ask jaymie to accompany me to the nude beach. but... obviously, a lesson i have yet to learn... if i figure it's not going to hurt anything... it's going to hurt everything, including me. there's too many people to bitch and complain. and not enough people to accept me as i am. and this is humanity. this is why i'm staying on this planet. hospitality here is top notch. so i get this text from bob, saying 'how dare you ask jaymie that, what a bunch of bullshit, dude'... uh... you were broken up! for the hundredth fucking time! what the fuck are you doing texting me when you're broken the fuck up, i'm sure she can take care of herself in that type of situation, it's just a fucking question! she can say yes or no, it's that fucking simple! but this is where i always get stuck with people. having to explain what it's like to be an adult... to children. children, who obviously don't understand this 'adult world' shit, so you have to explain to them, repeatedly, that this is acceptable for adults, this is how we naturally converse, and there's no reason to get bent out of shape over a question about nudity, not even involving actual nudity! and i shouldn't feel persecuted because of this? i shouldn't feel ashamed and humiliated over this? i already feel like i don't belong anywhere, but after something like this happens, it feels like i'm not allowed to feel the way i do, nor am i allowed to change my feeling in one direction or the other, i'm just stuck, prisoner to your erroneous assumptions of me, and hating myself more than you hate me. and can i explain any of this to anyone? fuck no! sympathy? compassion? fuck no! can i expect anything of this fucking species? fuck no! you were right, mom, you can't ask these children for fucking anything. loving this fucking life, lord! so fuck bob. i'm fucking done with bob and jaymie and their fucking drama. they break up every other week. is that normal for parents of a child? i know what i went through with the mother of my children, and there was no excuse for the part i played, but hey, at least i knew that. so what the fuck is bob doing texting me like that in defense of his special lady... every time i text them anything and ask them anything, they bitch back, like 'how dare i ask such a thing'. but they can keep asking me to fill their drives with movies they can't possibly download themselves. it's about time you dumb fucks learn to download shit yourselves, you're not children, whether you act like it or not. and stop calling me the child, i'm obviously more mature than the rest of you, because i have the fucking movies! i have the customized fucking desktop! the weird alien desktop that no one even fucking looks at, let alone can they formulate the question 'what is that', nor even the bravery to ask it, I HAVE THE FUCKING MOVIES! I'VE DONE TECH SUPPORT! I DON'T DO TECH SUPPORT ANYMORE, AND THERE'S A BIG FUCKING REASON FOR THAT! I'M NOT YOUR FUCKING 'PRESS THE SPACE BAR' TEACHER! I'M NOT YOUR FUCKING BRO! I DON'T DRINK COFFEE OR ALCOHOL! I DON'T SHAKE HANDS! HOW MANY FUCKING TIMES AM I GOING TO HAVE TO TELL PEOPLE THIS! WHO THE FUCK IS EVER GOING TO GET TO KNOW ME THAT WELL? WHO'S EVER GOING TO MAKE THE FUCKING EFFORT!

i fucking hate all caps. breathe. every day of my miserable, unknown life, i have to explain to people, over and over, repeatedly, how i don't like coffee, i don't shake hands, and stop fucking calling me bro! every fucking miserable day! every fucking breath is wasted educating someone how the fuck to treat me, cause it's such an alien concept to be treated any differently than any other human, why the fuck do you think that is?! couldn't possibly be because you're all fearful, paranoid clones, could it? you're scared of being unique, so you have to condemn those who are!

i fucking want to die. i'm seriously going to kill myself soon. i'm so tired of this fucking world. people still can't understand whether i'm trying to fit in, or what kind of friends i'm looking for, or why i'm only looking for certain ones, like that's an alien concept to them as well... here's a theory... don't you think it would be easier for me to communicate with other metalheads who also happen to be nudists, that way they won't have all the hangups and inhibitions that you morons do, that way... fuck it, why am i explaining this shit again? i swear to christ it's posted on my blog about fifty fucking times. but they won't read my blog. they just fucking refuse. but that's my laziness, cause i'm not trying hard enough to shove it down their gullets and feed them like birds.

i cannot stand this fucking species. i cannot fucking stand this planet. i can't even explain anymore what the fuck i'm looking for, or why, i've been through the words too many times. it's like my tongue isn't wanting to tie itself through infinite loops of lunacy that string back into the past anymore.

but if i say anything about 'getting to know me', the reaction i get is in the category of 'why can't you?'. 'why do we have to do it?'. these haunted house mirrors are fucking retarded. how stupid of me to assume there were actual brain cells in there making chemistry happen. but if i call them my delusions... they get angry. 'we exist here, too'. oh, but it's okay for you to claim that i don't, and act like i don't, and ignore me on the fucking streets? that's okay? why, cause you have more money? you think this planet you're on gives any shit about money? you think animals are checking their balance? you think you're so important, when everything in nature says you're not. you can crush any sea shell under your magnificent feet, but the fibonacci spiral is still inherent within it. you're not the end of that spiral, you're only a part of it, but let that bank account fool you. after all, he who dies with the most cash... is the biggest rip off.

i'm so sick of money determining everything in my life because no one else can get away from it.

you're all in the same delusion, and you ostracize me for not participating in your delusion.

can you not realize... can you seriously not realize... i pushed the eject button first.

i ejected myself from this delusion before you even noticed me.

but okay, take credit for kicking me out of here because you knew i didn't belong before your daddy was even a sperm yet, yeah, that's how falsely heroic this fictional land loves to act.

i keep thinking of gilbert gottfried and his part about the 'land of the three name people'

i also keep thinking about the line... 'in the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king'.

but it seems more like... 'in the land of the hypocritically blind, the one eyed man is a scapegoat'.

ostracized. teased. beaten. ridiculed. rejected.

'i'm the dog who gets beat, shove my nose in shit'.
'feed my eyes, can you sew them shut'.

the choice is theirs: deny your maker, or deny a fifth of your hand.
ice cream makes that choice a lot simpler.

satiation. distraction. complacence. docility. exclusion.

the line i love more, and always have... ever since i got that ten dollar bill from taco bell with this line written on the back...

'when there are no thrones, we can all live like kings'.

that line is on a throne in my heart. reigning over the kingdom of hopelessness.

poverty. degradation. isolation. devastation. competition.

but if the maker of them and their delusion is also a delusion, how do you convince them that they're just your delusions, and how do you unmake them?

how do you control an anthill?

you could remote control them, and take their free will away, but what would that teach them?

from the list of options they might learn, there's...

'this is the human way to do what we do'...
'this is miserable, i'd rather do what i do'...
'what was so wrong with the way i was doing it'...
or...
'does this idiot not understand the way we do things'.

how do you step out of a group?
how do you rise above a group?

how do you defy social gravity?

how do you move those feet from over your head, to underneath you?

and why the fuck would i want to anymore? what would i have to offer this anthill that might actually benefit them?

all i can picture is a forest full of naked metalheads on mushrooms. but asking humans directions to something that doesn't exist yet, is like asking ants what time it is.

they only know the language that their delusion supports.

the foundation of their establishment is the same earth.

so after i got that text from bob... i'm done with them and their drama, their weekly breakups... they're not bisexual or bipolar, they're not even bipedal, they're biweekly.

i should learn from my instincts; when i immediately regret saying something nice to someone... there's a reason for that, that won't be apparent till the future coalesces into the chaos of this existence. this miserable moment that lacks a steering wheel. and still, no one will understand.

i don't fucking belong here. but after i got that text from bob... i almost cried right there on the nude beach, except that i was too angry and seething with hatred. and hearing the trendy clones and 'fit in' people, desperate to justify themselves in a terminally teamed stance... when i heard the one girl say the word 'instagram' in that whiny, sarcastic tone... i felt what elliot rodger felt when the slushy hit him.

that's one of the few reasons i'm still alive, i didn't want to let what happened to him happen to me. i wanted to be stronger than that, but it just doesn't matter how strong you are, or how bravely you stand your ground against so many clones... they will always outnumber you. and when you have a pack of things that don't like to think apart from the pack, you lose. unless you're smoking the pack.

so i got the text from bob... sat there for a minute... looked at the water, the sky... i didn't feel anything... no urge to do one thing or another... to stay or leave... i took one more hit off my pipe, filled my pockets, rolled up the sleeping bag, and left. i filled my ears with metal all the way back to the teriyaki doorway, and fell right to sleep. i didn't exist until i woke up this morning, the sky barely light, dead silent. is it washed clean of the day before, or is that residue just another yesterday?

no one knows a fucking thing about me, so how can i expect them to know a fucking thing about the planet they live on, or the reality they think they perceive so well?

'you're expecting too much from people'... thanks, mom.

you're dead, and you still have to keep reminding me.

so next text i get from bob, i'm just blocking him, not even replying. both of them, i'm done. i'm sick of being talked to like that. like a child, should i ask the wrong question.

next time someone tells me, 'there's no such thing as a stupid question', yeah, BULL FUCKIN' SHIT!!! BULL FUCKIN' SHIT! READ MY FUCKING BLOG AND TELL ME THAT!!!

for any argument, you don't just need your proof, you need to consider their antiproof. and if you don't know how to properly execute an argument... you're a child.

but see, the key to this is... no one will ever agree on that fact right there, so where's the progress? what step is being taken in any good direction? you think we're not too divided to unite? well then consider my evidence? or is that too much for you to handle? and you're the more mature, responsible party here? where's your proof?

and, on a different note... i had such high hopes for the new life of agony album. i wanted another ugly, not another broken valley. i'll have to record the followups to all the albums i liked most. starting with sabotage, and all the way up to the last good album i know of... city.

i'm still asking myself, was that the golden age of metal, even though it's been twenty years, and i should know that answer, and i should be phrasing it as 'that was the golden age of metal'. i guess i refuse to believe it. as with every other delusion in this world. i refuse to believe it.

suspension of disbelief is not refusal to believe... this world needs to figure out, those are opposites.

i did end up at least seeing a couple naked girls while i was on the beach. they were cute, playful, probably lesbian. i felt a little joy in seeing them, i smiled and waved, as awkward as i always am. but at the same time, i felt repulsed and disgusted with myself, i felt like the eyes of society were thinking that i'm just a creeper, trying to see naked girls, a pervert, a criminal, and i couldn't shake the thick residue of that feeling. like it's such a bad thing wanting to catch a glimpse of a couple naked girls... i felt like asking the founding fathers of this country... was that not the purpose of life? or asking people now, is that not the purpose of life? you act like it's okay for all of you, but as soon as i want to join the party, everything i do is wrong. and you don't understand how people can feel cast out by your society. rejected by the pack, thus not participating in your pack rituals. that still doesn't fit in their brains. so i have to walk around with this creepy dark residue of their assumptions and accusations coating my skin, making me feel filthy the way a girl feels in a shower after being raped. and just let some retard try and comment on that, not knowing that i've been raped, too.

raped by a gay dude. no one ever digs deep enough into me to find that out. most of my past is gone just because it would take too long to explain to anyone else. they love the short stories, they don't have time for the long ones. i honestly feel like i'm standing just outside this forest, waiting for people to come out of the woods... once in a while a guy comes out, breathing heavy, as if for a breath of fresh air. we converse for a bit, i gain no new knowledge, and they express no fascination over my knowledge of the world outside the forest... and then they go back into the forest, cause they have to get back to their little money sucking circle jerk of pointlessness and self worship, then, for dessert, they throw insults around like monkeys throwing shit, and somehow, on the outside of this forest, i still seem to get hit with turds during this part of the ritual. but i have to support their delusion that they're actually in a city of their own creation, and not a jungle, because if one leg doesn't support their delusion, they get angry. like toddlers in a playpen realizing that the fourth wall is actually a camera, and the volume of cries is equal to the sound an avalanche makes before the sound arrives at your brain's audio sensory laboratory for the autopsy.

and i'm still talking.

how can i tell the difference anymore, between the momentary feelings of joy i get, from seeing a couple naked lesbians bouncing toward water, or the filthiness that's imposed on me by society's eyes? how can i hear their most negative thoughts, and still feel so negative myself? like it really is all my fault, everything that's wrong with their society, or even just their day, has to be blamed on me, because i'm the outcast, i must be responsible for the batman like mischief? i feel so humiliated and ashamed already, but it has to keep deepening when i'm seen by other eyes. because i can hear their thoughts, 'you should be ashamed of yourself, why are you such a creepy weirdo?'. 'why do you have to be so angry all the time?'.

because there's no one making me happy.

'oh, so it's our job to make you happy?'.

well, it's certainly not very fun being the boss of happyland with no employees.

'oh, so you're the boss and we have to smile because you tell us to?'.

boy, there's no winning arguments with toddlers, that comedian was right. facts don't matter to a toddler, and no matter what how you justify what you say, if they feel nearly as persecuted as you ever do, they have more reason to bitch than you do. they have every right on the planet, and dare you try and speak your mind, you're just taking away from their rights. this is your world, isn't it?

'this land is your land, this land is my land'... well, look at that, you were the first one to lie!

did i predict that, or can i remember that far back? maybe i should read nostradamus again, see if i left myself a little clue...

nostril dammers. nose beavers. hmm...

anyway. so. i'm completely humiliated and ashamed of being me today. not proud to be on this planet. never going to another nude beach again. certainly never asking anyone ever again, nor am i texting anyone ever again for any reason... just asking someone to go to a nude beach with you is apparently a felony offense of terrorist proportions that can get you hanged before you have the right to be aborted. this is how much these children bitch about shit! does this bother anyone else?

public nudity is legal in seattle, you have nude beaches, but i can't ask anyone?!

without being degraded to such an extent that...

honestly, i feel like i've been degraded by society to such an extent, that if a woman were to ever bitch to me about being degraded, i could legally get away with raping her right at that moment, in the middle of the street, in broad daylight, and not even be arrested for it in the first place, let alone have to defend myself in court. i'd walk away free, and she'd probably go to jail. is that justice yet? have we invented justice yet? is this the moment we can all finally fuck in the streets and celebrate something worth celebrating as a united species? is this that moment?

i'll say that again in case any children are wanting to misunderstand me.

i honestly feel like i've been degraded by society to such an extent, that if a woman were to whine to me about being degraded... i could get away with rape.

it's kinda like chris rock's rule about calling someone a nigger on christmas eve.

you want to talk about being degraded? well here, check this out...

now how do you feel? you just got violated by someone more degraded than you, that's gotta suck. i bet that feels wonderful. you just got violated by someone so hideous, they don't even really exist. someone so ignored and unwanted, you can't even complain about them without holding a gun to your own head, how does that feel? it's a good thing this is theoretical, cause you'd be bitching and crying up a storm right about now. whining like a baby over a teething toy. bet you feel so much better about yourself now, yes. need a tidy wipe? and hey, if you get pregnant, you pay for the abortion. fair enough?

am i the asshole?
am i the asshole here?
am i wrong?

you ladies want to talk about being degraded, then get eachother out of porn first.

every young girl in a domestic violence shelter, you go out and give them a home and a heart to live in first, and then you can bitch about your persecution.

you pick yourselves off the fucking streets first, then you can bitch.

if every female on this planet actually strived to have a higher iq than i have... would we have anything to bitch and argue about?

i'll ask that again. if every female on this planet strived to have a higher iq than i have...

would we have anything to bitch about then?
would we have anything to argue about after that?

that's not a rhetorical question, ladies. speak up.

watch secretary, and realize that you can get more of a voice out of that gorgeous throat of yours, here, let's give it some practice, work that throat, get some singing lessons, some blowjob lessons, now give it a try. because i'd pay you more for that answer, than i would for sex.

your pussy ain't worth that much to me.

men want pussy, not the opinions attached to it.

so the more women bitch, the less you have to bitch about, because i've been single and rejected for three years straight. until you've been through that hell, you have no right.

but you have all the rights, and i have none.

it's that childish mentality and spoiled way of thinking that gets us here in the first place.

it's you, ladies. it's your fault. you think men own everything? you think men get everything they want? you get to choose us...

i'll repeat that...

you get to choose us!

do we get to choose you?

let me spell it out for you...

y o u... g e t... t o... c h o o s e... u s...!!!

short skirts...
skintight pants...
lipstick...
shiny shit...

and we can't even touch... you say no to sex more than we do, so you want to be equal, you've got some balancing to do, you've got a lot of catching up to do in the 'yes' category.

as well as the murder and rape category...
don't forget the greed category.

start crankin' those numbers up, ladies, and then we'll let you drive.

love needs to spread around.

who's job is that?

men?

or women?

after that beach experience, now that i'm thoroughly ashamed and humiliated with myself...
after the wonderful text from such a good, supportive friend...
after being condemned and persecuted by so called friends...
after being teased by strangers who have more right to be naked than my ugly ass...
after weak women use every excuse to overpower me just like every other male...
after going to jail for sleeping in the wrong spot...
after being this rejected...