closed cloned minds

good fucking christ, why are women such cunts. why do all women have to be such cunts. cowards. sour twats. cold hearted fucking slugs. why. this fucking paranoid, immature, consumerist planet really doesn't fucking want me here, does it. why the fuck can't you cowards just admit it. you fucking crabs. snobs and prudes, that's all you fucking are. too fearful to spread any actual love. and you're the best at misunderstanding anything i say. the fuck how you twist things in your fucking heads, man, what the fuck is wrong with you. fucking women. are you incapable of just being nice. are you incapable of being curious. are you incapable of actually opening your fucking minds. there's something i've been wanting to point out. in this stupefied, oversatiated fucking nation, those parasite product choices inhabit and control your empty bodies, you believe anything you're told, the bigger the badge, the more truthful it must be, you question nothing till i come along, and of all the empty headed, choiceless clones out there, and how you misuse common terms... this has to be said. when it comes to having an 'open mind'... most of you cloned consumers... listen carefully...

YOU HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!!!
YOU'RE USING IT LIKE IT'S A FUCKING PRODUCT SLOGAN!!!

someday, i'd like to try to write a book just compiled of all the things i overhear people say when they pass by me. just my way of saying it back to them. the stupid fucking shit that i've heard come out of your cloned fucking mouths, the little verbal turds you drop on the street as you walk this earth thinking you're the best thing since charles fucking darwin. or carl sagan, or isaac newton. fucking galileo. you can't even pronounce my fucking name, how the fuck can you say 'galileo'. i heard this one asshole... another douchebag in shorts and flipflops. while it's cold and raining outside. mutherfucker, you obviously don't realize this, but it's extremely offensive to homeless people to see some rich douchebag with a puffy little haircut walking around in shorts and flipflops, while we're soaked and freezing our asses off!!! you fucking morons!!! put some fucking pants on, pull them the fuck up, and grow the fuck up already!!! grown men acting like fucking products and slaves, wake the fuck up!!! get a fucking scrotal purpose, you wanky fucking weaklings!!! what gives you the right to be a human if you think i don't have the same right? you dumb fuck. i heard some assmaggot in shorts and flipflops passing by me a few weeks ago... saying something about juices and cleanses with high protein... first of all, that right there... what kind of douchebag are you? the four ninety five variety, or the discount variety? you fucking quank. you're such a coward weakling, you're going to get offended at every fucking word i use, you can't be part of the 'take a joke crew' like the rest of us, so i'm just gonna start coming up with my own fucking words for you. you can't stop me from doing shit, and this world will never be free till the day you either realize that, or the problem gets solved with a bus mirror and a short curb. i'm praying to your god for the latter, you better pray he doesn't hear me. i'll put on public display exactly how much a coward you are. anyway, then he said something about 'i just have to be more open minded about things, and feel comfortable with other brands'. oh, god, give me an aneurysm, please, lord. a nosebleed, anything. drop an asteroid on me, i don't care, please, lord.

this world will never change. these morons are completely unaware that comedians are getting paid to make jokes about them, and they're free to walk this earth, oblivious, because they're able to buy products consistently. they have good credit. oh, sorry... 'cred'. fucking so lazy, you even abbreviate two syllable words when you speak them. god, i want you dead.

in case you're actually paying any attention to this, which i seriously doubt... that's not open minded. which products you consume has nothing at all whatsoever to do with being open minded.

i'll repeat that for the extra stupid.

which products you consume has nothing to do with being open minded.

how much music you listen to has nothing to do with an open mind.

your credit, how many products you buy, the fact that you make your car payment on time...

YOUR MIND IS NOT OPEN!!!

oh, well, i'm a democrat! oh, well, i'm a republican! oh, well, i'm a liberal!

i saw this bumpersticker once, said 'liberals are so open minded their brains fall out'.

god, i have so much proof that none of you have any fucking clue what you're talking about!!!

not a godfucking one of you! it's hilarious, humiliating, and disturbing all at the same time.

and i'm speaking from a perspective outside this planet, just in case you'd like to argue at this point.

no, this is no debate. this is an assault. we're taking you fuckers down, that's all there is to it, you may think we're gonna hear your exhausted side of the story, but we're not going to be listening, we're gonna be cranking slayer, and slaughtering your weak asses with a fleet of bulldozers.

bring sally up, bring sally down, let's done start, gotta till the ground...

i want to see plastic splattering all over the earth. tshirt tags, receipts, bar codes...

here, i'll make it easy for you. i'll give you a comparison. something to compare.

here's man number one.

'i think it's important to be open minded about things, to change yourself. i work in a bank, i'm a vegan, i do tai chi yoga, i drink chai tea from starbucks, and i voted for donald trump'.

and here's man number two.

'i think it's important to be open minded about things, to change yourself. i'm homeless, i eat meat, my body's stiffer than brian posehn's postmortem boner at the playboy mansion, all i drink is my pocket water, and until we can vote to abolish poverty, ain't nuthin' to fuckin' vote on, now if you'll excuse me, i need to piss on this porche'.

here's a glimpse at man number one's movie collection... adam sandler... adam sandler... adam sandler... tyler perry... tyler perry... and the hunger games.

here's a peak at man number two's movie collection... zeitgeist, american drug war; the last white hope, dmt: the spirit molecule, penn and teller: bullshit, in time, limitless, lucy, pixels, lucky number slevin, alex jones, terence mckenna, bill hicks, george carlin, sam kinison, chris rock, and the kickass movies.

which guy seems more open minded to you? guy number one, or guy number two?

just because you have a job, doesn't make you open minded.
just because you pay your taxes, doesn't make you open minded.
because you prefer one certain brand over another...
because you spend more money on your clothing...
because you walk your dog...
because your wallet is designer brand...
because your haircut cost more than twenty bucks...
because you listen to 'anything'.
because of the channels you choose to watch...
because of which housewife you vote for on reality television...
no matter what you think of kim kardashian...

you are not open minded.

you are a clone.

your choice inhabits someone else's head, i guaranfuckingtee you.

people like you, who get to overuse and misuse the terms that should be tattooed on my fucking forehead, you make me fucking sick. i want you to know that. you have no right to use these terms. i hear christian alcoholics in alcoholics anonymous using the word 'evolve', saying shit like 'i just have to evolve my methods of caring for myself'...

since when did that word become an everyday term? and since when did christians start wanting to party on our side of the fuckin' room? like with the whole 'creation science' oxymoron. no, fuck you, we showed you the goddamn missing link, we showed you lucy, and you wanted more evidence. you don't get to party over here, and use our words. get your dumb ass the fuck back into the nonsmoking section where the frown is high class.

yeah, no, you're not open minded. you have no fucking clue what an open mind is. and until you do, you don't get to use that term. that's my fucking term.

you can have all your shit, to label and identify yourself, and fit into your little groups and cliques, but i take comfort in being the outsider, because i'm nothing like you, and fucking proud of that fact. i identify with nothing. i'm not part of the 'lgbtq' community, i'm not a consumer, and...

'yes, my cock is getting hard, we are born different after all'... -pantera.

i may have a gorgeous billion dollar cock with hot sauce, but i certainly claim no allegiance to that side of the room. most of you men are not only the reason i won't approach you, but you're also the reason women won't approach me, so if you think i'm on your side, you're fucking hilariously wrong. i'm on no one's side. until you shits start caring about someone other than yourselves, and being the hypocrites that claim me their scapegoat as mirrored throughout a history that repeats itself, i'm going to oppose you and every fucking parasite product in your heads like the thumb i crawled out of a primordial genetic turd circus to be. do i need to repeat that?

i oppose you.

there, is that simple enough?

i say my definition of open minded whoops your honor student's pansy ass.

i was woken up by a security guard a few weeks ago. this kid couldn't have been out of high school yet, he was still holding his teething toy. he made some comment about me being homeless, and says 'i wouldn't be able to do it, i was homeless for three days'... i cut him off right there, and said 'three fucking days! three fucking days, you pussy! i'll shove my three year chip right up your ass, kid'.

you people think you're so fucking great, don't you.

you kill john lennon, but the world keeps spinnin',
fuck it, pat ourselves on the back, we're doin' good.
you dump oil like tankers in a bathtub, but as long as you can buy bottled water,
fuck it, pat ourselves on the back, we're doin' good.
you kill gandhi and mister king, but the world keeps on spinnin',
fuck it, pat ourselves on the back, we're doin' good.
you deny that the cia floods your streets with drugs they grow in other bloodsoaked countries,
but hey, pat ourselves on the back, we're doin' excellent.
you support a system that stupefies you while slaughtering and lying daily,
but hey, we're doin' fuckin' great, my bank account is better than yours!
your hot women flaunt their parts on the street while never looking at bums,
but hey, love makes the fuckin' world go round, right? let's celebrate!

fuck your alcohol.
fuck your drugs.
fuck your credit cards.
fuck your beliefs.
fuck your badges.
fuck your misconceptions.
fuck your 'open minds'.
fuck your products.
fuck your price tags.
fuck your receipts.
fuck your insurance.
fuck your guarantees.
fuck your good credit.
fuck your banks.
fuck your crumbling institutions.
fuck your fears and inhibitions.
fuck your lies and delusions.
fuck your gods and churches.
fuck your dollars and wallets.
fuck your guns and orders.
fuck your fast food fascism.
fuck america.
fuck you.
fuck your world.
fuck your frowns.
fuck all of you.
fuck your excuses.
fuck your mold machine.
fuck your assembly line.
fuck everything about you.

you think consumption is the be all end all to human existence on this planet.

you think capitalism is fuckin' great!

you think it's okay to be greedy and selfish and fearful of your fellow criminal.

you think it's any excuse because there are 'too many unknown variables'.

mutherfucker, you're the unknown variable. you're the unnatural occurrence of weirdness that happens during the cusp between the ending of one age and the beginning of the next.

you think i don't know what you are, you fucking moron, i know exactly what you are.

that's why i can think of so many good, unique, original ways to insult your dumb ass.

i can see the barcode where your soul should be.

be careful when you're around me. you fucking ostracize me again, condemn me, burn me at the fuckin' stake, go ahead. see what happens.

fuck your condemnation.
fuck your condom nation.
fuck your condiments.
fuck your condos.

fuck your evolution brand juices.
fuck your evolution brand smartphones.
and fuck your fake, phony, plastic ass.

you are a clone. and i can prove it in any warehouse in this shopping mall country of yours.

this land is my land,
this land is not your land,
from the jersey crackwhore,
to the new spork violence,
from the methhead snobfest,
to the gulf of slaughter,
this land was made for me and bums.

i pledge allegiance to no flag, for which it burns, satiation, under god, with delusions and madness for all.

yeah... indivisible. i think they misunderstood that word. hmm... indivisible. hmm...

so yeah. go ahead and call the cops on me for taking a piss, and i'll protest by walking around naked.
go ahead and call the cops on me instead of the drug addict scumfucks next to me.
go ahead and call the cops on me instead of handing me a couple bucks like a good human.
go ahead and wear that fuckin' frown, cause it looks so perfect on you.

after all, i own the smile you can't afford. jackass.

keep walking by me and talking about drugs, that makes my fucking day.

ladies, keep walking past me with a stiff neck, i'll loosen it up with my stiffy.

'yes, my cock is getting hard, we are born different after all'... panfuckingtera.

i refuse to participate in your twenty four seven shiny happy fuckin' consumer life.

and from now on, when people ask me how i'm doing, since you can't stop asking that, or calling me bro, or getting hostile and belligerent when i ask you nicely not to, this world is so fair after all... since you can't stop asking me how i'm doing, and can't think of a better question, or better small talk than talking about the fucking past, and asking me where i'm from rather than where i'd like to go...

whenever you ask me how i'm doing, i'm just gonna be honest. in fact, my balls are bigger than that, i'm gonna be an honest fucking metalhead, and see how you take that. i'll shout things like 'hail satan', and 'kill the rich', and throwing demon fingers at you jeffrey dahmer style.

fuck you weaklings.

why do you think starfucks plays pop music?

go ahead, rocket scientist, give me your best guess.

kiss my black ass. get right there at the turd stain at the top of the crack, there you go.

now, yeah... you shoulda said no to crack, shouldn't ya? yeah. need a tidy wipe?

okay, now, this is how to grow the fuck up.

step one, lose everything, walk away, and learn to live on ten bucks a day.
step two, crank metal in your ears, smoke in your lungs, and piss on a porche.
step three, pick your friends, pick your nose, and pick the right fucking drugs.

and for your initiation package... you have to kill a bank owner.

welcome to the fuckin' show, you pussy.

next time you feel like fucking with me, thinking you own me...

my mother taught me... it's better to keep your mouth shut and let people think you're stupid, rather than open it and prove it.

she also taught me, think about what you're going to say before you say it.

she also said 'why do closed minds always have open mouths'

she liked the lyric, 'they say the empty can rattles the most'.

and the one 'you lie so much you believe yourself'.

i miss you, mama. if only you were still here and still had your gun.

i hear her up in heaven at least once a day, 'where's my gun!, where's my gun!'.

and she's dead. imagine how much you're pissing off your own god.
i know george carlin's furious, i would be too. all you're good for is death and trash.

and then you have the balls to tell me not to litter on the street.

you gonna pick it up? you get paid more than i do, go ahead, pick it up. slave.

you may not have heard me say this, but it's doing much less damage to the earth than the concrete it's landing on, or the douchebag whining about it.

ooh, i almost misspelled that, and typed 'tit'. what are you gonna do, sue me?

let me ask you a question. if a girl shows her boobies in public...

does every other female get violent and hostile and want to kick her ass for that?

okay, then when i take a piss, why does every male on this planet want to stab me?
why does every female on this planet call the cops?

yet the drug addicts next to me can jerk off in front of a coffee shop, and walk away.

oh, yeah, thanks for the reminder, this is a fair world! haha! i thought for a second i was pickin' fuckin' cotton! is it getting hot in here, or am i burning at the stake!

'it's getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes'...

but if that bum even dares show half a nut, massacre his ass and crucify what's left.

i'm your steak dinner.

is that what you think?

you own the plate you cooked me on? so i must be yours? made for your mouth?

well, okay, but be careful, i did warn you after all, you might choke on my balls.

hope you feel really stupid afterward. hope i hurt going down.

i hope i kill your heart on the way back up, and this shit can be over with.

oh, that's right, call the authorities, they get paid to help you.

yeah, i'll gladly fit into that world.

i'm sorry, but i've played sim city. the original version.

i can clearly see the resemblance between your society and an ant farm.

and you think you're so special, that if your society be threatened by a pissing bum, you have every right to be a vigilante and do something about it.

fuck you.

you sour twat. you fucking weak coward. you fucking fearful twank.

fuck all of you. i am not part of your community. i am not trying to fit in.

i'm just here to make you look like a loser before i invent something better.

a whiny little pansy crybaby, pissing fucking bitch.

you can keep excusing yourself for being that fragile. i don't.

you decide what matters more to you. how much you love yourself, or what i think of you.

hell, even weigh this option... what matters more, what you think of me, or what i think of you?

there's a good question. let's see how selfish you are right now, you toddler.

walk up to me again, i'll put you up to a little challenge. and it's me or you.

go ahead and think yourself better than me because you abide by laws or choose certain products or gods or political puppets.

think yourself more open minded than me, and i'll get the jaws of life and dig for yawns.

you think your mind is open? okay, then take a snapshot of yourself right now...

and then watch every movie i listed in here...

and then take another snapshot of yourself, and compare.

douchebag.

and next time i overhear one of you using the term 'open minded', you're gettin' fuckin' stabbed. that's all there is to it. go ahead, fuck with me again. trigger my ptsd, get me going real good.

your head needs to be set straight, or knocked the fuck off.

you are not as special as you think you are. and the fact that you think you're special just shows how fucking comfortable you are living in your own ass. you fucking cretin.

i am better than you.

and i know there are better people out there, people much better than you.

a couple nights ago, some lady gave me forty bucks, told me to get a meal with it.
i also recently met a thirteen year old named violet who wants to help me get off the streets.

that's right, a kid.

swallow that one. there's a thirteen year old kid out there that's a better human than you are.

you fucking chocolate crunch wrap.

i gotta repeat this one... a thirteen year old kid wants to help me off the streets.

what the fuck are you doing to make your world better? calling the cops on a bum for taking a piss at six am? that's making your world better? that's your idea of cleaning up your streets?

'i don't want to see that creature over there again'.

well, what a coincidence, cause the feeling is mutual. you fucking quank. you goatscratch. you fucking scrotal itch. i can't wait to protest you with nudity, you cunt.

this planet really does not want me here. you get off on making it this obvious.

but all i have to do is compare you to the lady who gave me forty bucks.
or violet, who's more aware of the homeless situation than you are.

the illusion...
the lie...

the rich are the enemy.
their security guards are the enemy.
do not be fooled. their smiles may look real, but look for the seal line. the seam.

the cracks in reality...

misjudge me till it hurts you.

and don't ever do your research on me. don't ever find out who i am first.

that would be... what... mature? responsible? adult? evolved? conscious? honest? human?

oh, did i just light your thesaurus on fire?

i'd love to see you buried under a pile of dictionaries, honestly, i would. i'd pay for that.

the smoke above it spells out the words 'self righteous clank'.

and a little gold mario coin goes 'ding', and an angel gets his wings...

and the dust settles happily ever after.

and the symbol for the new world, is a pried open skull.

fuck yourself.

keep ignoring me, ladies. the only time you react to the sight of my repugnant ass, is when you call the cops on me for daring to be vulnerable around such a queen like you, oh, lord!

i just can't bare to see a cock today, how disgusting! ew!

how strange, that the bottom of my nutsack looks just like your heart, hmm...

yet you're disgusted by my entire body... hmm...

nah, couldn't be this planet, could it? hmm...

where the fuck is actual pussy? hmm... google, where is pussy?

oh, wow, misunderstood that, fuck...

google, where do i find female that fucks! tarzan want pussy! low price!

'oh, i'm about to make it fuckin' stupid in here'... -brian posehn.

i'm running for president, and my campaign will be built around washing women's minds out with soap. and it can't be soap that's made by martha fucking stewart, it's gotta be fight club soap, made by tyler durden in an unwashed bucket. i'll use martha stewart's credit card to scrape the denial out of there.

why do women take pride in being snobs?
why do ladies take comfort in being cowards?
why are women so comfortable being uncomfortable?

and what the fuck else do you think you're here for?

i'm serious, you want equality, and jobs, and... yeah... for what?
to keep getting a free ride through life?
to justify how you felt being poor and having to give up your seat?
do any of you even remember that event, cause i'll bet you a hundred bucks you weren't fucking there. you just like to claim that connection cause you justify your existence through an amazon purchase.

god, you're sick.

how about this. if you want the world to think love exists... if you want homeless people to feel loved... if you want this world to function comfortably, without such harsh restrictions...

here's what you should do... ready?

walk out your door naked.
give all your money to the nearest bum.
give your body to the next one.
and hand out copies of 'hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy' till your thumb sprouts.

you fucking whore.

why the fuck do women flutter around me like hummingbirds, and then leave with no intention of coming back?

why the fuck do women have to be so goddamn cold? all the fucking time?

is it illegal to hug bums? then why do any of us bother existing?

do you not understand my question, did i phrase it wrong?

why do women have to walk past me wearing the sluttiest clothing, showing off every bit of talent they have, with no intention of ever being touched by anyone...

why the fuck do they have to be such fucking snobs about shit?

it's a body, it's just flesh, it's not a crime, physical contact is not harmful, you're not breaking any laws, it's not harming anyone to just touch. why be so fearful over sex? what the fuck is wrong with you? do you even realize that men are the exact opposite of you?

guys walk down a street, and have to memorize the curve ratio of each ass we see.

women walk down the street, and all they can seem to think, is 'i don't want to ever see a cock'.

do you think that's normal?

and if you don't think you do that, let me take a few pictures, and show you the looks on your faces when you pass by me on the streets. tell me that't not what you're thinking.

you demented fucking queens. you spoiled fucking goatsores. god, you make me sick.

the other day, i saw some hot lady past by... then a few seconds later, this guy passes by me going the other way, and he's shouting back to the lady, saying 'you stuck up fuckin' bitch'.

what moron would not have seen that coming.
what imbecile would have been surprised by that.

what reality television show has that not been on yet, that's what i wanna know.

how much do you ladies get paid to ignore men who you think are repulsive.

how trained are you, to keep that neck straight ahead.

and you think you're special.

no, you're uglier than we are.

you're not equal, you're weaker, maybe you just heard it wrong.

and i've pointed this out before, but... trying to be equal to men? are you fucking nuts?

obviously, you're not fucking anything, and that's part of the problem.

maybe you're fucking the wrong nuts, i don't know...

but trying to be equal to men? is the urge to be a manhating bulldyke really that strong in you? so strong that you have to demonize porn? do you not realize how sick you are?

is it fear of cock?
or was it those sex education videos with gonorrhea pictures?

and what about the teenage women who can't wait to get irresponsibly pregnant before they have any clue of a way to support their little bum.

the female mind repulses me.
female logic is a fucking joke.

all your protest signs about 'the future is female'... yeah, not for me.

all i can seem to come across are snobs and clones who have to 'get to know me first'.

joke's on you, you fucking whores. my blog has been accessible this whole time.

and you call me lazy.

i do not share your fears.
i do not share your beliefs.
i do not share your inhibitions.
i do not share your excuses.
i do not share your addictions.
i do not share your weaknesses.

and if you think being homeless is being lazy... why the fuck don't you try it.

leave.
your.
house.

you fucking coward.
you fucking slave.
you fucking clone.
you fucking snob.

here's how different from you i am.

i'd love to be touched by anyone. anytime. anywhere. male or female.
you don't have to ask me first, it's more of a turn on if you don't.
i don't have to know your name, there are no fears around sex.
i don't want your money, i'm worth the physical contact, and so are you.
clothing is optional at all times, no matter what weaklings may be around.
because public nudity is legal in seattle, and people who bitch about nudity are extra weak.
which makes them tender meat for the bulldozer we're gonna be driving naked! ha!

oh, and i could go much deeper into the differences between you and i...

but i have yet to check my email to see no responses from any human on this planet still to this very day, and try to have faith in the world around me, and not stab my own heart.

i'll compare my pain with your pleasure...
i'll compare my misery with your luxury...
and i'll use it all to destroy you.

i'll expose myself to expose your lie...
i'll reject myself, just to see you die...
and i'll use it all against you...

every word you've ever said to me...
is just ammunition in my arsenal...
and it's all for you.

go ahead.

try me.

insult me one more time.
reject me one more time.
condemn me one more time.
ostracize me one more time.
persecute me one more fucking time.

some lady gave me forty bucks, told me to buy myself a meal with it.
i did, i bought fifteen bucks worth of teriyaki.

even the dude that passed by and handed me two packages of crackers is better than you.

end the reign of selfisness.
make pussy the new currency.

'are you the keymaster? i am the gatekeeper'... -ghostbusters.

if you women were anything you deserved to be, you'd hold orgies over the fact that the internet has made rape statistics go down in the last ten years.

it's you, who will never be worth the touch it took to create your repugnant ass.

you can't just stumble onto this planet, and say 'i deserve to be here'.

poor people aren't allowed to do that.
homeless people aren't allowed to do that.
men aren't allowed to do that.
i'm certainly not allowed to do that.

you have to earn your right to be here. take one for the team. fuck a bum.

then you get to stick your flag in the ground.

maybe, for extra credit, you can resurrect elliot rodger, and apologize to him with a handjob.

not all men are pussies.
not all men excuse you.

i'm not of less value than any woman.
but the looks on their faces sure say otherwise. hmm...

equal, my fucking flabby black ass. i wrote that poem, not you. it's copyright fuck you industries.

all men are created equal... except me.

is it cause i'm not wearing shorts and flipflops?
is it because i don't have a douchebaggy haircut that costs more than i do?
is it because i don't have a suit and tie?
is it because i don't have a house?
is it because i can't give you a free ride through life?
is it because i can't afford the cushy for your tushy?
i'm not luxurious enough for you?
i don't have all your dreams and all your answers on my bank statement?

you fucking whores. who the fuck do you think you are?

it's all money to you. i had to be alone for three years to learn that. it's all money to you.

if it wasn't all money to you...

i wouldn't have been alone this whole time.

go ahead. argue that. i dare you.

i'm done complimenting any of you.
especially on your clothing and layers of fear.
especially on the products you wear to cover your prudish ass.
you show off your asses with tight pants, but i can't touch them.

you are so fucking wrong. sorely wrong.

you're allowed to touch me any time you want, ladies. you don't even have to ask.

i'm done being nice to you. i've asked so many times, it's made this humiliating.

so fuck you. fuck you all. fuck your cold, closed up, rusty fucking cunts.

you're not worth the pussy you squeezed me out of. you don't even deserve it.

until you can fucking use it right.

there's no price tag on my cock, by the way, ladies.

i've already got herpes, so i've got nothing else to fear!!!

we're all gonna die, but that's no excuse to touch anyone before we go.

wouldn't want to make life that enjoyable for anyone without a receipt.

and the more of you cunts i see passing by me with shopping bags...

i just want to puke on you. i really do. you make me that sick. i hope you know that. i hope that offends you. i hope that doesn't sit well in your stomach, with your chocolate fucking croissant.

i think every little thing about your society is sick, wrong, and offensive.

i just got this overwhelming... this cringe of suicidal sighs and darkness...

why am i still existing.

i really feel like finding a dark corner and stabbing my heart today.

carve this pain out of it, and see if i wake up tomorrow.

pray to wake up in a world of fearless, naked metalheads.

not credit cards from starbucks bank.

i want to die. so bad.

i ache for death.

i would be honoured to leave your world.

i would be ecstatic to leave you behind.

to leave you crumbling with your problems and no solution.

i wish i could be that guy.

i would pay for the movie to end that way.

'this planet's not worth it, i'm taking the solution juice and leaving'...

oh, i'd donate my heart to hear that. i'd castrate myself and trade my nuts to record it and play it again.

your nails...
your rings...
your necklace...
your jewelry...
your clothing...
everything fake that makes you look better than you are.
your shoes...
your matching purse...
the price tag...
it all just tells me how fake you have to be...
to think yourself better than me...
to know which kind of guy you attract...

you're a big fat fuckin' lie.

the more you pay to look better, the uglier the truth you cover up.

how much did that wrinkle cream cost?
and the fake tits...
the ass implants...
the soul implant...
did they have to file off the barcode seam?
how about the model number?
which assembly line are you from?

you fucking mannequin.

you're selling a product i don't want to buy.
you must be so proud.

my untouched cock is worth more than you, you pink fucking queen.

and the douchebags you attract... you can have them. enjoy it.

what a life to live. the envy of humanity.

believing that we all want to be you.

are they looking?
what are they thinking?
give a little wave...
so ugly it hurts...

your mask is peeling. tag's hangin' out.

fuck it, is that michael jackson, or did scraggly ragflapper reincarnate skeletor?

and one more thing. if my naked body is so repulsive and hideous, that you just can't resist calling the cops on me for getting a little air on my skin once in three years when it's still dark, god forbid, then any time i see you, i'm going to call the cops on you, because your judgmental plastic ass is too offensive for me to look at in my pristine little world of self perfection. fuck you.

starfucks slaves the day

jesus fucking christ, that's sad. starbucks doesn't even know what the fuck a menu is. and just like every other website or company, they have to design everything as plain, square, white, flat, and retarded as possible. what the fuck is wrong with this world? you call yourselves unique, and you have no fucking clue what unique means. you're clones. you're all the same, and i can prove it in a fuckin' abercrombie store. douchebags. all your desktops look the same. and i just wanted to find the price of the classic oatmeal without making myself visible. thanks alot. just try finding classic oatmeal on the starfucks website. i dare you. fucking morons. still wondering why everything i do has to be so fucking difficult, and done completely alone. society's whole 'cheer yourself up' mentality disturbs me. 'we're not responsible for your happiness'. gee, then why sell all the products? why give out receipts? you fucking cow herd of consumer clones, you have no idea what percentage mannequin and plastic you are, what, is it fifty percent polyester, fifty percent clueless?

downer

i just asked morgan... i said... you get guys to talk to you on fetlife, right? she said yeah. i said how the fuck do i get women to talk to me on fetlife?

she said 'get some better pictures'.

i said you didn't have to get rude about it.

she says 'do you know what every other guy has that you don't have'.

i said 'yeah, a job and a suit'.

i'm still not going to be them.

so she says 'you're too much of a downer, you gotta stop being a downer'.

well, gee, if this planet would stop reminding me constantly that i'm a downer, and that i don't belong in their shiny happy world, and instead tried to maybe cheer me the fuck up...

earthbound misfit

i really am not allowed to be myself anywhere on this fucking planet. anywhere i go, no matter what the fuck i do, someone's always complaining about me. about the most childish, asinine shit you could imagine. i can't sit in a starfucks with my headphones on, without some bitch next to me telling me to turn my headphones down. seriously? they're headphones! what the fuck!

no one can ever tell me i have a nice desktop, they all just say 'you can't show that stuff in here'.

i swear to christ.

this planet has made it humiliatingly obvious they do not want me here.

i'm...

i'm gonna fuckin' slit my wrists.

i'm gonna pick a nice quiet spot, wait for a sunset...

and not even say goodbye.

twosday

woke up this morning...

people always talk about gratitude lists, while in denial that they're assuming i don't do them, or that i don't appreciate shit. how would they know a fucking thing about me unless they had the balls to read anything i've ever fucking written?

my mother taught me... it's better to keep your mouth shut and let people think you're stupid, rather than open it and prove it.

woke up this morning, twenty bucks on my head, couple starfucks cards by my feet, and a breakfasty croisanwich (i don't know how the fuck they spell that, but i swear it's different every time) fuckin' thing that was actually pretty nasty. what the fuck are you people eating? the eggs were half cooked, and coated in a thick layer of grease, bought from a 'healthy pastry shop'... probly cost ten bucks. and would you people get the fuck away from anything that starts with 'croi', please. if they can't pronounce it, you shouldn't be eating it. but anyway. thanks for the twenty bucks and the starfucks super duper free asterisk removal magic wand videogame coin credit things that allow me to sit and be left the fuck alone without simultaneously affording coffee i don't drink when i'm obviously not working to afford it... sorry. i can see how people constantly misunderstand what the fuck i'm saying. but it makes sense to me because i'm on the other side of society from you. i can be sitting right next to you, and still be in a completely different world from you. you've got a job, a wallet, a credit card, an income, money to spend on food today... if you can't comprehend that there's a whole other side to that perspective, then no wonder you're not seeing me or understanding me. just try living one day of your life without a dollar on you. and no tits to make a dollar.

anyway. yes, i am grateful for the twenty bucks and the starfucks monopoly skip jail passes. that's part of my point. i'm trying to be grateful. the other part of my point, however... is women.

i'm sitting there smoking. this crazy old lady walks by. asks me for a cigarette, so i give her one. asks if she can lay down in the doorway next to mine. repeatedly. i offer several times for her to sit next to me, as my doorway is empty (meaning no one in the business behind me). every fucking question i ask her, all she can fucking say is 'no, no, no'. she finally shuts up and lays down in the doorway next to me for about ten minutes, before the guy opens the door and tells her to get up. so she comes back to my doorway, and i offer again for her to sit down, 'no, no, no'. kept interrupting me, talking over me, wouldn't shut up about the fucking door, started asking what kind of cigarette it was, and i finally snapped and bitched at her, saying 'why can't any woman ever fucking say yes to me, why do every godfucking one of you have to say no to me, i've been asking every day for three years now, all you ever fucking say is no'. she walked away. and my heart plummeted back into the concrete where it feels less rejected.

they flutter around me like hummingbirds.
too skittish to stay, too annoying to go away.
teasing me, offering to pull the knife out of my heart,
but tickling it, and shoving it further in.

then, i come to support groups. i talk to the wonderful young lady i see in the sex addicts group. i don't even remember her name, and at this point, that's a good thing. i'm setting up my laptop in the small room, and before i could get everything turned on... i couldn't help but overhear her talking to her caseworker...

i can't even repeat this shit. it's so goddamned repulsive and offensive to me, and no one ever understands how traumatic this shit is for me. hearing this shit out of so many women's mouths. you'll never understand what the fuck this does to me. or any other man, i would think. (though i claim no allegiance to that side of the room).

she's talking to her caseworker... and i know i shouldn't be repeating this, but i have to, this is pain in my heart, it's relevant to me. sue me, kill me, whatever you have to do, this is my freedom of speech right here. you can't just keep silencing someone who's trying to make a point.

she's talking to her caseworker about some guy she's been talking to.

i'm sorry, i can repeat very little of this, it just won't come off my tongue. (or fingers).

at one point, her caseworker said 'well, at least he's not shooting heroin'.

goddamnit.

seriously?

my heart won't go any further into this shit. come on, goddamnit. fuckin' pussy.

she said something about him talking pills...

does someone actually have to say this as publicly and offensively as possible to wake you cowards up, or what...

GET THE FUCK OFF THE FUCKING DRUGS AND GROW THE FUCK UP!!!

PULL UP YOUR FUCKING PANTS!!! STOP CALLING ME BRO!!! READ SOMETHING!!!

sorry, that was about to give me a heart attack, it had to come out. i'm really trying to be as polite and wordless as possible right now.

i wish we could just stop this shit for one day. women, stop fucking any other douchebag, till you can at least consider me.

i texted mama sue. asking, do women even know how to say yes to anything anymore? besides money? do you cold hearted cowards have no clue what this does to me? how much it hurts?

i watched doug stanhope with the old guy last night. laughed our asses off. he started talking about how women have to retain some level of shame for their side of the sex, because that pussy has to be held like a carrot on a string to keep the poor stupid sap producing shit and building shit, otherwise nothing would get built. he's fuckin' right. so sadly right. disgustingly right.

but i'll never even find another female who's seen that fuckin' video. those are my chances.

i sit there alone. alone. alone.

tortured by my own heart.

women want confidence from men BEFORE attraction... no, that's supposed to happen after.

you walk into our lives. you inspire us. you make us smile. thus we develop confidence.

if it's the other way around, then you ladies aren't doing your job, but rather just demanding a free ride through life.

your sole job while you're alive on this planet...
and i know you're not aware of this, which is why i'm telling you, just to have you deny it...
your sole job, your only duty while you're alive on this earth... is to say yes.

you've forgotten that you have the ability to choose, to say yes to the right guys, thus the right things get built.

the fact that we're all prisoner to a poverty producing pyramid scheme at this moment, tells me you women have been fucking the wrong guys for too long now, so there simply is no cluing you in.

the guys with talent. the guys with hope. the guys with good shit in their hearts.

not the guys out for money, who just mindlessly squash the little guy when he gets in the way.

you fucking whores.

ladies that walk past me, i keep wanting to ask them, how ugly am i?

but they all lie to me. 'you're not ugly'. yeah, bullshit, then why am i still single?

i see them. they walk past me with this look on their face, like 'he's not gettin' me'.

you'd never sacrifice a paycheck for an evening with me. then i know what you want in life, and i think it's despicable. disgusting. and i think you should be ashamed of yourselves for dangling off that paycheck fishing line. you fucking whores.

anyway... back to the story. i couldn't help but overhearing her talking to her caseworker about this douchebag, and each fucking thing they say, and laugh about, just drills into my head like an unwanted rape cock of disturbing images and rejecting pain, just forcing its way into my ear, plowing through my heart, straight into the pit of my stomach, and just turning black and toxic.

i keep trying desperately to get my headphones on, and whispering to myself, so i hear less of what's being said, i finally get my headphones on, and shut them out.

but the day's damage is done.

she'll never think of me.

i have this wallpaper i sometimes put on my computer. it's a shame it's only nineteen twenty by ten eighty, cause it pisses me off when the picture isn't big enough and clear enough, when people don't put enough effort into the pictures they take, and they think 'nineteen twenty by ten eight is good enough'. that's why i want to design my own computer, but that's another rant...

the wallpaper is a blurry shot from grass upward, toward a sunset, with a sun ring in the image, glare, over the top of a building, like a barn or something, and blurred into the picture just on top of the building, are the words 'she will never love you'.

i ache for physical contact daily.
i yearn to be touched.

you are not the same.

because if you were...

love would make the world go round, so the world would be going round.

is there something about that you still don't understand?

and you'll never even think of me.
you'll never consider me.

and the fact that i had to go through three years of homeless traveling, painfully single...

it didn't have to be this way. this could have been fun.

it will always reside as a scar on my heart, a reminder of what you women really want.

you don't give a fuck about the poor dude with talent.

you just want the luxurious chair under your ass, every day of your worthless life.

how do you excuse yourselves?

i proudly promote myself as 'not in it for the money'.

that's not as shiny to you as your beloved products. thus i'm just not attractive to you.

stop lying to me and telling me i'm not ugly.
and society needs to stop trying to convince me that i hate myself.

i love myself. it's you i hate. because you refuse to look at me. you make me feel repugnant. they way you women dress, the men you walk with, and the way you look at me, makes me want to die. i really want you women to know that. to understand that. that's nothing to be proud of. you should be ashamed. i would be, but then again, i'm more human than you are, my heart is warmer.

anyway. i finally get the headphones on. basically, what i had overheard, was that...

well...

i'll just put how it translated to me, how about that? is that okay with the authorities?

does that please the court?

she's never going to look at me.

and you women misunderstand me more than cats do. you know, deep down, what the fuck i'm talking about. you know, full well, what the fuck i'm really saying. what i'm really asking. i shouldn't have to explain myself. what the fuck do you think the world functions on? what the fuck do you think the fuel that propels creation really is? in case you're in a tarpit of dark black denial, i'll go ahead and illuminate you...

as politely as possible...

it's that little home between your legs, ladies. that little cubby hole where guys like us can put stuff, like our dignity.

if you're in denial of that...

then perhaps you can see why my heart hurts this much. why i ache and yearn for touch.

i'd bet a billion dollars that you'll never understand. you'll just keep preaching your side of the story, without considering mine. and of course that's fair, you're women. we're men, we aren't going to argue with you, we've learned from that. at least i have, like i said, i don't claim any affinity or allegiance to either side of this pathetic fucking room. i've got my eye on the door.

and the more you women ignore me...
the more you ladies tease and torture me...
the longer i go without physical contact...

the closer i get to that door.

keep misunderstanding my metaphors, i know how you women think. i'm not as stupid as i look, which is exactly why i'm alone. it's exactly why you fear me.

i'll repeat that, incase you missed it...

the reason i'm still alone, is because you ladies fear me.
the reason you fear me, is because i'm not as stupid as i look.

the fact that i know that, should tell you something. but it never will. because you're always right.

three years, ladies. i'm holding that against you. and not in the warm and cuddly way.

i begged every day.
made myself look like a fuckin' fool.
made myself feel worse.

it didn't have to be this way.
we could have had fun in san francisco.
we could have had fun in los angeles.

and to that psycho bitch in portland... you know who you are... i hope you're dead by now. you cold hearted fuckin' demon queen. you fuckin' evil goat. obviously i still haven't forgotten that, nor have i let it go. and i never will. of all the shit the male security guards have done to me, you still hold a special collection of vengeance in my arsenal.

weapons of mass corruption.
that's all you ladies are.
you give no love.

weapons of mass consumption.

yeah... well... i'm just a heart that never stops creating, so until i'm worth something to you in your shiny happy fuckin' world of plastic fear in a bottle, you can kiss my fuckin' black ass.

cowards.

so after the crazy bitch this morning, and then the cute girl with her caseworker...

fuck it. i don't even want to be here. i figure i'll shroud myself in the darkness of starfucks for the rest of the day, and wrap myself in a defensive ball of hatred to block out the clones.

that's my only option when i'm not being fucked! touched! loved! noticed!

all men, we're all only talking about one thing, ladies! no matter what words we're using, no matter the translation or the language, we're all only saying one fucking thing to you brainless fucking women!!! there's only three fucking letters in the word!!! and one of those letters is kind of a symbol for the word itself!!! i'll give you a real good fucking hint!!! i'll rape it into your thick fucking skulls!!! i'll never let you fuckin' forget it!!! it's what buildings will be built on for the next million fucking years!!! you dumb fucking cunts!!! it's you!!! it's all for you!!! every goddamn building on this planet is for you!!! stop acting so fucking spoiled, and appreciate something!!! appreciate something worth appreciating!!! like the fucking bum with talent on the corner!!!

you fucking whores!!!
YOU FUCKING WHORES!!!

sex.
love.
touch.

why every dollar was made.
why every building was built.
why every recipe was cooked.
why we did anything at all.
why we even stepped out of that fucking cave in the first place.
it's why we're still here.

you gashes are too unaware of how well you  could control the outcome of humanity.

the development, the nurturing of humanity into a much more mature state.

did i really have to point that out?

you act so fucking queenish, without having a clue of the responsibilities you carry.

sure, write a few books, refuse to give up your seat on a bus, create a tunnel for slaves, remind us that lack of education is violence, fly around the world in less then a day, and then stick your head in an oven, whooptyfuckin'doo! my mother would still smack you upside the head, and then she's probly point out some typos. you fucking fruit snacks!

you've got the intellectual pulp of a fucking watermelon, and i can prove it with the tattoos on goatroach's eyes (aka the mother of my children) and the dead turd nest on her fuckin' head!

she sold my kids to cps like a back alley drug deal!

you fucking cornks!!!

i've got a virtual fucking library of good words for you skwanks.
and they all translate to the same fuckin' thing...

I'M FUCKING SICK OF BEING SO BRUTALLY FUCKING ALONE!!!

i'll repeat that... and not just copy/paste style, either...

I'M FUCKING SICK OF BEING SO BRUTALLY FUCKING ALONE!!!

see, i can type it twice, cause i'm that fucking sick of being that brutally fucking alone in this world! there's no excuse! there are seven billion people on this fucking planet! that means there are three point four billion douchebags, three point four billion coward skanks in luxury clothing, and point two billion of us are begging for you sick stupid greedy selfish fucks to fucking die!!!

and you're completely unaware! fucking clueless!! historically and galactically fucking ancestrally humiliatingly sickeningly fucking dumb!!! you don't even know how dumb, which is part of the joke!!! wake the fuck up!!! how loud do i have to scream it into your comatose fucking ear hole!!! wake the fuck up!!! you only think the world's going round. that's your delusion, not mine!!!

you fucking coldhearted fucking quanks.

she will never love you...

sorry to keep going off, but i'm really trying to force my mind to stick to the morning story.

i put my headphones on... my fingers keep wanting to type 'heartphones'.

i put my headphones on, and...

i forget.

but i know it hurt.

i guess whatever words were bubbling around it, just kinda slabbed over the pain, and fell asleep.

you women will never know how lonely i am. how miserable life is without you.

and i don't blame you for not knowing that, cause that's kind of inherent in your side of this flesh pond. you'll never know how miserable life is without you, cause... huhuh... fuckin' duh... you're you. you're the women who are needed for the party. in case you fuckin' forgot.

cause see, when guys party together, we do shit like form the kkk, and build monster trucks.

but with you ladies around, we sit the fuck down, shut the fuck up, and there are laughs to be ejected into the atmosphere.

you ladies truly don't see the difference, do you?

would you rather have the kkk idiot chasing after you in a monster truck?
would you rather we devolve into a nonfiction version of idiocracy in five hundred years or less?

it's up to you to take the fucking wheel, ladies. that's the type of driving you should have been doing this whole time. steering this species away from stupididididity. shit like forrest fucking gump.

instead of trying to be equal with men, you should have been trying to be the opposite influence.

so, that's my morning. my heartache. i'd like to finish this off by saying...

fuck ayn rand.
fuck helen keller.
fuck rachel carson.
fuck isadora duncan.
fuck angela davis.
fuck golda meir.
fuck elizabeth blackwell.
fuck gertrude stein.
fuck caroline kennedy.
fuck sally ride.
fuck julia child.
fuck tammy faye baker.
fuck barbara walters.
fuck georgia o'keeffe.
fuck annie oakley.
fuck josephine baker.
fuck janet reno.
fuck coco chanel.
fuck yves saint laurent.
fuck anais nin.
fuck betsy fuckin' ross.
fuck jackie kennedy.
fuck hillary clinton.
fuck rosa parks.
fuck harriet tubman.
fuck oprah winfrey.
fuck mother teresa.
fuck joan of arc.
fuck emily dickinson.
fuck anne frank.
fuck diana, princess of wales.
fuck madonna.
fuck janet jackson.
fuck jennifer lopez.
fuck kim kardashian.
fuck britney fuckin' spears.
fuck scragly ragflapper.
fuck marilyn monroe.
fuck eleanor roosevelt.
fuck joan rivers.

fuck everyone except maya angelou and my mama. and kat curtis.

the rest of you can suck a dick.

it's not me who will never be worth the touch it took to create my repugnant ass...

it's you.

i may be a smelly jobless bum, but at least i didn't stumble off an assembly line.

your tag's hangin'.

i'm gonna go spend my twenty bucks now...
ON ANYTHING BUT A PROSTITUTE!!!

because i'm worth being touched.

fuck this day

i fucking hate my life. i hate this fucking day. when will this day end? this same boring fucking day. every fucking day. when will i finally meet the people i need to fucking meet? where the fuck are they? if not here or online, where!? goddamnit.

people keep using the word 'manifest', and saying 'just ask the universe for what you need'. not realizing that i have tried that over a thousand times in my life, i owned the 'secret' dvd, i have tried this shit. i keep trying to ask people if i'm too much of a scientist for this metaphysical crap to work on me, am i too much of a skeptic, and where the fuck are the people who have watched penn and teller bullshit? do they exist? i know they're not in a fucking starbucks right now! mutherfuck! i do not understand what the fuck you mean when you tell me to 'just ask the universe', yeah, it doesn't answer. no god up there, no ancient spirits, no ghosts, no aliens, no one can fucking hear my voice, not even on this planet where everyone just talks over me, and won't let me finish the fucking sentence! i'm real fuckin' sick of that! keep fuckin' talkin' over me! i love that, it makes me want to live another day! you sick, stupid fucks. goddamnit, how many days am i going to have to rant about this same fucking thing, layering trauma over trauma, fields of triggers in my mind, yeah, thanks.

since these people do not understand yet that i have yet to receive anything i've asked for, i've had to work my ass off for the minimal things i did have, and when they were taken away, it didn't matter for shit to anyone, because i earned it all alone! does that not make sense to anyone else? seriously! if you don't understand that, stop reading now, so i can weed out the idiots, and start finding the people who fucking understand me already! i'm sick of running into consumer clones with heads full of product beliefs and they're completely unaware of it, in denial, yeah, i'm done conversing with you! you are a moron! get the fuck away from me! i've posted about a thousand blogs clearly stating, simpler and simpler, what it is i'm asking for in this life, in this world, what i'd like to see happen. it does not happen. i don't want to live in your delusion. i have well contemplated the pathway out of this, the only one i think will work. i see it. i just need people. would that not otherwise be the mutherfucking solution! am i insane? 'no, just keep living this life alone, fuck you'. how the fuck do i not translate? what the fuck planet am i on? is this seriously happening? why the fuck are you not suicidal? being suicidal should be a healthy indicator of sanity right now, we should be held in high regard, like kings. 'this guy's suicidal? fuck it, put him at the front of the line'. 'hail to you, sir! get us the fuck out of this apathetic mess, would ya?'.

what the fuck do i need to say, that i haven't already said? what the fuck 'cube' puzzle twist am i stuck in? what retard has to say 'two' for me to get out of this nightmare? have i not made it clear enough yet? who the fuck is listening yet? anyone? am i lost?

i listen to songs like 'we are the others' by delain. 'imperium' by machine head. 'rise rebel resist' by otep. and i know i'm not alone. 'x' by hellyeah. hellyeah should be like a codeword, and as much as i hear the stupid codewords for the stupid drugs, should i not once in a while hear 'hellyeah', and find another open eye? what the fuck is going on here? what delusion is this? and how fucking evil and cruel are you people? you're mannequins! that's all you are! i give a fuck what choices you've made, they will never be mine! will you never understand that! if not, more proof you're a clone! you idiot! you're impervious to believing the truth, and it's nothing to be proud of, but you're fuckin' retardedly proud of it! live that same day like you paid for it.

is it not obvious to anyone else.

i sit here looking out the starfucks window. all i see are plastic people buying products. downtown seattle. the 'financial district'. expensive hotels, shopping stores, clothing... starfucks on every corner... and no one else can see it. consumers existing in a perpetual moment like they think they're allowed to, like physics finally said 'okay, let satan through the earth, i'm takin' a holiday'. okay, so now we have overcloned morons dragging pants on the ground. popular everything. what's trending, what's in style, what's on twitter, how informed are you, and we think we're informed by what's on twitter, like it depends on whether or not we follow the right celebrities. have i lost you?

were there too many words in that last sentence?

hemorrhages take the door on the left, aneurysms take the door on the right... i'm stuck in a perpetual delusion with both of you. well, hoo fuckin' ray. bet you're proud.

my mom's making guns out of clouds right now.

and laughing at jokes.

a clear indicator of sanity in a world where someone had to point out that it is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society. hmm, just think about that for a ponder. hmm.

am i losing you? are we on the same... blog? hello?

okay, time number four thousand five hundred and fuck it i lost count, dear lord slash universe aka aliens and ghosts and other consciousnesses and spirits that might hear me... if you haven't read the story of when i was eight years old and my grandmother was screaming at my mother yet, then you are officially uninformed stepping into my lair, so beware... you know, for people who don't yet get that there's no fucking god up there, no voice talkin' back to ya, you're clinically insane and working a job... which... to me, those go hand in hand, but that's the delusion you support, so why would you take an opposing perspective of it, even for a second? that's called faith, and they sell that in stores, too, but you wouldn't know that, so, moving on! okay! bright smiles and redheads, yes, sir!

i know there's no voice listening, because i have done what these idiots keep telling me... it does not work for me, i have my proof, how do i convey that part of the conversation to get it to move forward from there? but anyway. just for the purpose of demonstrating to you, the unreader, yet again...

this is what i'd like to find in this world. okay? are you ready? paying complete attention? need a drumroll? jellyroll? cheese danish? okay, pay attention! ready?

here's what i'm looking for... oh, and, a warning ahead of time... each of these things is very offensive to the american public society, so... yeah, i get who i'm talking to here, don't act like i don't know again, i'm getting sick of that one, too. like you know me so well. i think three blogs proves otherwise just as a fact on its own, without them being read or not, let alone understood, but you get it. anyway.

in this world... in this moment... in my life... oh, and for even better clarification, i'll start with what i don't want, how about that? here's what i don't want. starbucks. money. anything popular. clones. credit cards. capitalism. consumers. cops. justin fuckin' beiber. .................... okay? okay.

hopefully you're on board.

in a world full of twitterstarfucksclones who get high and satiated on whatever's popular and plastic, and who live by strict rules out of fear, and always wear clothing in public... yeah, okay... this is what i'm looking for... i know this comes as a shock to you, but shock value is a kink for me... ready? paying attention? still on board? okay, i'd like to be around naked people who aren't afraid to touch eachother. people who think monogamy is for cowards. people who like heavy metal. people who only use psychedelics. and people who understand where their thumbs come from. the purpose for the thumb is to oppose. well, shit, i can oppose something now? and i can pick stuff up! groovy. oh, look at that, i can light a fuckin' cigarette, too! fuckin' awesome! now just start crankin' out lungs out of assembly lines, and we'll be good to go. oh, wait, i think i lost you. are you confused?

here, this is as simply as i have managed to put it so far.

my interests are strictly as follows: evolution, psychedelics, metal, comedy, nudity. especially blending them together. naked metalheads on shrooms, basically. the rest just comes naturally.

does no one else see what i see?

cause i think they call it utopia, but it's not on google maps. but i see it when i close these two eyes. naked metalheads in a forest. big fuckin' speakers growing out of the earth. y'all seriously don't see that? am i really the only one? cause john lennon fuckin' sang about it, you guys don't have that on itunes? well, then that's the problem with itunes, they shove minimum down your throat, and you have no clue who john lennon was. and you don't think that's a problem? how do you think you could have been misled in the first place? you bought a product in a store, didn't you? let me guess, you were a kid. see, indoctrination starts early, but oh, you managed to avoid it? you remained immune and unaffected? then why don't you know who terence mckenna was? yeah.

okay, see, that's why i'm not getting anywhere. let me slow this down for you.

my interests are:

evolution.
psychedelics.
metal.
comedy.
nudity.

not videogames.
not anime.
not bad drugs.
not coffee.
not money.
certainly not fuckin' trump.

okay?

are you up to speed now?

okay. wonderful. so... now... where do i find naked metalheads in shroomland?

or...

how do i find the metalheads...

get them naked...

and design shroomland aka utopia together?

any ideas?

oh, i forget, you haven't been contemplating this for the last ten years.

okay, i have tried internet. internet does not work. i get nothing but automated emails.

i have traveled through four major cities on this coast. talking to tourists does nothing.

what am i doing wrong?
what am i not doing?
who should i talk to?
what is their number?

libraries don't have this information.
libraries should have this information.

should they not?

am i insane, or are you insane?

what if we ask a psychiatrist?

what if we made it interesting?

if you're sane, i'll spend the rest of my life as your personal slave.

if i'm sane...

hmm...

so... do we have an understanding yet?

anything your world advertises on television, i don't want. okay?

the things i do want, are, again, evolution, psychedelics, metal, comedy, nudity.

say it with me, and try to memorize the words, there are only five of them.

say them with me, evolution, psychedelics, metal, comedy, nudity.

okay. anyone not understand that? raise your hand.

okay then. this is your brain on that concept. any questions?

okay, so, if anyone tells me again that i haven't asked the universe for what i want... someone just text them the link to this blog, okay? this particular post, shouldn't be too hard to find, have it saved in google notes, and just auto send text... i'm sure you can figure that out, just google it. so now hopefully it's understood, that when i ask, there's nothing there to answer me. because it has yet to happen. and i have to make it happen my damn self, but self can only accomplish so much until others are required.

does everyone finally have a good understanding of that?

okay then. class dismissed.

i hate my fucking life.
i miss my mom.

fuck sundays

god, i feel so sick. i hate my fucking life. i so want to die.

but my goal today is to write as much as i can.

first, i need to trim my nails. use the restroom. think.

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.