thank you

some nice people i've met recently that i'd like to thank, are tracy, greg, red robin, and sophia. also, some guy gave me five bucks the other night when i was sleeping. thank you. and also the people that donated to my motel fund, i got four nights in a motel and feel much better. also got a new laptop finally, thanks to greg. also trying to get some help from barbara sher. that would be spectacular. oops, i rhymed.

fuck your positivity

i am sick of people telling me how to be more positive, man, it's just making me more and more negative, when the fuck are they going to stop that shit. i sold at&t to old people who didn't know what their phone was, i talked to the people on this planet who thought their cdrom tray was a cupholder, i ain't fuckin stupid, i know how you fucks sell that shit like it's the new ten cents a minute calling plan, god, you're sick. would you fucking get angry about something already, what the fuck is wrong with you! you goddamn sheep, you make every excuse to stay asleep, to keep shopping, and making me go along with your fuckin herd. you've harped on me in just about every way... get the fuck off me already, would you? i'm not going to plaster on a fake fuckin smile and shop away into the apocalypse of the coma mall like you sick fucks, get over it! fuck, man. that mall really knows how to promote itself, doesn't it? relentless little demon salesman! you're worse than robocalls, man. you're more fascist than hitler, and that fake smile, man, i swear if i had a chisel...

metalynx

boy am i sick of talking to flat earthers. they are such a conversational waste of time. anyway...
https://www.quora.com/How-can-I-find-another-metalhead
https://www.quora.com/Why-dont-metalheads-like-rap-music
https://www.quora.com/Are-metalheads-intimidating
https://www.quora.com/What-does-a-metalhead-hate-the-most
see, you think you're invited to the conversation, but you're really not.

fuck gabrielle

well, i know this isn't what she was expecting, but...
this lady on instagram asked me to watch a video by teal swan, about the difference between the modern and traditional male roles, which of course i do, because i want pussy, but no one has ever reciprocated...
so i watched the video and audio recorded my reactions... the video was fifty minutes long, but somehow my rant managed to turn into a five and a half hour marathon rant, i don't fuckin know how that's possible...
i know she's not going to listen to be babble on for five and a half hours, she's not even going to listen to half of it because of how offensive she'll most likely think it is... she wanted my opinion on the video, that's my honest opinion, sorry it took five hours and it's more offensive than trump the vagina grabber... i doubt i'll ever even hear from her again.
honestly, that's when i seem to scare people off the easiest and quickest, is when i speak the most honestly and openly about myself. especially women, they will run away screaming when i let a little truth slip. calling me everything from creepy to narcissist... i know my opinion doesn't mean shit to anyone but me, but... it would be nice to deserve something other than blame. i've got nothing more to say for a while. here's the audio thing, the rest should be self explanatory, if there's anything i missed, fuckin mail me. don't bother paying me, i don't even want money, certainly don't deserve shit. all i want is sex, but that's the last thing you'd give. go fuck yourselves. i stand on my own just fine, i don't need your crutch. update: yup, scared off another woman. another waste of time.
[audio src="https://evolutionhotlinedotcom.files.wordpress.com/2018/12/equality-my-cock.wav"][/audio]

mgtow jams

for the record, i hate lenny fuckin kravits, and my mom liked fleetwood mac a lot more than i do, but i appreciate that she liked 'em...
enjoy.
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLODK-qYgrEqeW_Q17fa5loytFpwfxcyhT

the big fuckin point

all i'm trying to say is this...
you women want equality?
step one: figure out what you're fighting for.
step two: we should trade pedestals. that's just my suggestion, hear me out.
men should get the fuck off the financial pedestal, you've been on it long enough, asshole, and you've created a homeless problem, get the fuck out of the white house, disable the rich... balance.
and women, you need to get the fuck off the 'sexual marketplace value' pedestal. you know what the fuck i'm talking about. but you're not really getting on the financial pedestal, don't get ahead of me.
once the cultural standards based on a rich/poor divide are gone...
just close your eyes and picture it for one minute...
once that's gone... stay with me... there is one pedestal left, isn't there?
sexual attractiveness. say it with me, come on. sexual attractiveness.
yeah, we want that. you've had it long enough. add up how many times you've been rejected, and we'll add up ours, and then figure out the squared equation, the fact that when you feel rejected, if you were in a room full of men, not all men in that room would be rejecting you, you're probably going for the best one, and ignoring the rest, who would happily spend the rest of their lives with you, any of you... whereas one man in a room full of women, how many women would you bet on rejecting that one man? i'll give you a hint; he's not wearing a suit and tie, he's a geek wearing a shirt that says 'the higgs boson gives me a hadron'. that's the choice you get, no more suits and ties. look around you, and look ahead.
you get off the sexual marketplace value pedestal, start being attracted to us, stop calling us disgusting and laughing at us and humiliating us and belittling us and dominating us with your attractiveness and your ability to say no... we reverse those roles, think up new ones, go a new direction, without the control of a monetary society, go forward together... we get to attract you now. you get to approach us, pursue us, we get to say yes or no to you, you get to pay for sex, and then once the 'cock carousel' disappears, we get a 'pussy carousel', and weed out the actual douchebags over a few generations, and boom, partytime.
am i wrong?
you gonna keep bitchin'?
treat the cock as the foundation of the house, and the vagina as the roof of the house that naturally goes over the foundation of the house.
"if you're not fucking her, you are her girlfriend" (rollo tomassi).

how to navigate the multiverse

think of something you wanted to change about your youth, some choice that would have drastically improved your life. for me, i would run away from home when i was twenty or younger. so i would travel back in time and tell myself to run away from home and be homeless in seattle pursuing all my writing talents, start a band, tech company, religion, all my dreams, etc... and then go back to my origin time, and watch the change happen around me. if you go back and deliver yourself enough little messages to control the direction of your life through the multiverse, kinda like having your hand on the steering wheel for a moment, you can alter your position in the multiverse to a better universe where your life worked out the way you wanted it to. problem solved. but you can't go back in time and kill anyone or change anything for anyone else, you can only make ripples in your own life, if you change anyone else's, it might result in energy backlash taking you in a wrong direction, kinda like the wind blowing your boat around in the ocean, and ending up in the bermuda triangle, which could take you virtually anywhere else. toodles.

uninformed

i can't ask anyone about herpes because no one fucking knows about it.
i can't ask anyone about heavy metal because no one fucking knows about it.
i can't ask anyone about zeitgeist because no one fucking knows about it.
i can't ask anyone about women because no one fucking knows about it.
i can't ask anyone about desktop customization because no one fucking knows about it.
i can't ask anyone about homelessness because no one fucking knows about it.
i can't ask anyone about nudity because no one fucking knows about it.
i can't ask anyone about evolution because no one fucking knows about it.
i can't ask anyone about anarchy because no one fucking knows about it.
i can't ask anyone about the alliance because no one fucking knows about it.

where the fuck do y'all get your fuckin news, man!

am i seriously the only one who's appalled at how uninformed everyone else is?

why do you seem to be so uninformed and apathetic?

my "friends" don't know anything.
my "friends" don't give a shit.
my "friends" are my delusions, but shh, don't tell them that.

how did i end up living such a miserable life.
how did i end up being this invisible to females.
and why can't i find one woman who doesn't use the word 'disgusting' ever.

drunks and drug addicts

how the fuck do i get males to stop asking me where alcohol and drugs are and how to get them?

i seriously do not want it to happen to me one more fucking time.

i don't want to live on a planet where drugs and alcohol exist!

removal

i'm seriously considering just taking all my writings off the internet.

i have scared off too many women. that's all i can seem to do.

when are women going to stop being so offended by my opinions?

when are women going to start fucking me! you cowards!

excuses

i am never ever going to find a woman without fears.

why the fuck does everything have to be so normal for every fucking person, and nothing can ever...

goddamnit, i want to sew my own mouth shut!!!

more shit outta my head

i just took a trip up to capitol hill to get smokes and chocolate milk. on the way back... i had my music down low in my headphones, i didn't feel like having it too loud... this lady got on the train and sat close to me... which... first of all, they never do that... she answered a phone call, and i could hear just... no words, but i could hear her voice... then, the one sentence she said loud enough that i actually heard... she said 'yeah, he forced me to have sex with him'... i'm so thankful i managed to turn my volume up right then. i did not want to hear one more word...

women get too much sex, while men don't get enough.
women are tormented by sex, while i'm tormented by a lack of it.

when do these feelings stop. when does this loneliness end. it's so heavy i can't even think through it, and any motivation i build to reach out leaves me way too soon. i don't know what to do with this weight. but no one will reach out to me, it's always been up to me alone to reach out, why. why can't anyone even answer that.

at least i'm writing again, getting this shit out of my head. venting.

i hate this heavy conscience, i hate always feeling like when i'm the most honest, that's when people are the most offended no matter what it is i'm saying. whether it's about women, or the shape of the fuckin earth.

no wonder i can't find a women who can develop any curiosity about me, all the women are living on a flat planet where curiosity is outlawed, while i'm living on a round planet where my curiosity is so vital it's like a lion that can't be tamed, that must be it.

i can't help these thoughts, i can't help what i'm sick of seeing too much of. every woman clicking away on her smartphone instead of looking up. wearing the skin tight pants you can't touch, the fancy and luxurious crap to advertise how untouchable and unattainable they are.

i sat thinking this morning about trying to write something about all my...

now i can't even think of the stupid fuckin words, this goddamn defective brain...

...unreachable, unattainable dreams? i guess... (i even hate seeing my own typos, the fact that i'm making any alone is just sad, that's when i actually go back and read over my own crap, after i send an email, i regret sending it cause i can't remember what i said or if it would offend anyone, then i rarely get responses, so i assume people got offended... fucking mindfuck...)

okay, shut the fuck up, brain. i'm thinking right now.

i thought about using the word unattainable...

wanting to start my own church, religion, restaurant, sovereign nation, city, metal band, movie studio, recording studio, harem, computer company, school, "village" (to raise children)... invent my own everything since everything else sucks.

i don't know if i have the strength left.

the list has gotten too long, i can't even remember it all each time i try.

for twenty years, i've imagined giving lectures on how different this shit could be, to a fuckin... abandoned library full of dead crickets. i don't know why the fuck i speak anymore. i don't know why the fuck i ever spoke. i really regret not taking my mother's advice seriously.

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

yeah, thanks mom, but there's only one big problem with that.

the world doesn't change with a bunch of closed mouths.

or... at least... if those who have a clue remain silent, and those who have no clue are the ones doing all the talking...

am i a decent example of how miserable life can get?

how alone you can feel on an overpopulated and misled planet.

imagine if our history has been erased, if a highly advanced civilization was actually wiped out by an asteroid thousands of years ago, just stretch your fucking brain vagina for one fucking impossible minute here, please, for the love of round fucking planets, please...

first of all, why was it erased, kept from us?

and secondly... i can't put it into words...

but why can my mind touch that easier than i can touch a woman?

why do i hate mark fuckin twain so much? and fuckin' shakespear.

and a bunch of those historically overquoted losers.

i can't even watch movies anymore. it seems like every fuckin movie i try to watch starts off with a fuckin mark twain quote and a fuckin rap song. and just talks about rich dog walking god fearing coffee drinking fuckin...

sometimes i think i hold back too much, other times i feel like the biggest prick on the planet.

like i make trump, andrew dice clay, and charlie sheen look like adorable little minions.

there has to be some way out of this endless nightmare hell. this suffocating, debilitating pit of loneliness, hopelessness, despair. i don't see anything changing.

i wonder how disconnected from the world i've gotten.

but it took this long to find someone with a heart. and i still can't believe that actually happened. still wondering if i deserve it, or if i'm the only one who thinks so, or questions it.

trying to piece together a mind that no one else understood, trying to remember everything, from having to repeat it over and over...

imagine if your entire life were video recorded.

would you ever have to repeat yourself?
would you ever have to introduce yourself?
would you ever have to explain anything?
would there be any liars? or crimes? or lack of evidence?
what other kinds of 'proof' or 'pleasure' or 'convenience' could you imagine?

do you think humanity would get lazy, or find something better to do?

at this point, i feel like... if you can't see the future... to the point where you panic over the slightest thing, and constantly think armageddon is just around the corner, one television commercial away...

if you seriously can't deduce what's coming next, to the point where you can't create your way out of it with a mature, collective focus...

am i seriously even saying this, why the fuck am i talking.

i'm glad it's not actually out loud. think i'm even sick of doing youtoob videos. i feel like more of a douchebag there than i do here. but it's easier to babble to a video. and smoke.

have i lost my path?

do my wants and needs still matter to me? should they?

i keep wanting to poll a bunch of women and ask them questions like 'what type of man do you find completely repulsive on sight alone?', or 'are you completely disgusted by the male body?', (and i'm even tempted to finish that question by adding on 'unless it's thor with a fuckin job').

this goddamn neck. like a stone easter island head misaligned to a stone body.

the tiny bit of brain left in this dense skull of impeding pain, barely attached to the miserable heavy shoulders it fuckin rests on, while the pain builds up like frozen slime between the cracks of the rocks, and the head stone just has to fuckin move, but the slime just readjusts, it never falls off... the tiny bit of mind left in there just questions everything in a miserable disagreement and disbelief that this is what it's actually seeing... kinda like... if a snail crawled over one of those hallucinogenic frogs, and started feeling extremely alien in its own shell, as its skin starts 'seeing' the inside of the shell on a microscopic level, and feeling the colours, and smelling the sounds...

it's just a tiny little pond of confusion and questions and an overwhelming sense of disconnection in the center of that fuckin earthquake ridden land of turmoil...

i've already used so many words and repeated this shit so many times...

i used to list a whole bunch of synonymous words like alienation, isolation, and then just joke about throwing a thesaurus at someone's head, but now... i get two words in, and i feel my heart plummet through the earth, and my mind just cuts off, the words just disappear.

i've said it too many fuckin times.

my mind is trapped in a cycle of repetition...

and somehow, that's what makes me unattractive...

i've never gotten that logic. seriously.

society stomps you into the quicksand, claims no accountability, blames it on you, refuses to acknowledge you or pull you out, and once you get yourself out, you're still covered in quicksand shit and mud, and they look at you like 'why can't you clean yourself off?'. uh...

boy, i can't help but thinking, what if you were the one crawling out of the quicksand?

they all act like this is the first time anything like this has happened.

uh... no... this quicksand has been here, consuming people for quite some time, actually.

you'd know that if your news source wasn't absurdly fraudulent.

or... if we even had a fuckin news source.

i think that's what the cia actually covered up, the killed all the reporters, and put a bunch of androids on cnn. the news is the worst reality show, the kardashians is more informative.

i could find more truth on a fuckin barney episode. or gilligan. or lucy.

fuck this, what was that show... laverne and sherley, yeah, give me a couple hours of that, i'll come back with a fuckin thesis on the difference between bullshit and truth.

there, did that quite say it yet?

because i still don't see anything or anyone else changing.

i still don't have a lady next to me.

i'm still disturbed my everything i see, it still seems so morbidly backward to me.

a reverse image of what reality should be, but every time i try to define it, my mind tells me it requires too many words for one brain to conceive alone to explain how i see this world, and how...

well...

what these two eyes see is backward...

when i close these two eyes, what i see then, is... much better.

and trying to describe, and convey what that vision is...

so far, has proven virtually impossible, or at least, extremely difficult.

but i know that people are naked. they touch just to greet eachother. there is no money anywhere, no need for it. there are really no complaints, nothing to complain about.

there's heavy metal music, but it's very very evolved, to where it's not even really heavy metal music, because we have no need to be offensive and harsh anymore, but we're not gonna be the happy sappy poppy crap like taylor fuckin swift or katy fuckin perry, that plastic radio horseshit...

trying to advertise yourself, trying to get popular attention, what the fuck are you?

why do i see a warehouse full of mannequins with barcodes and record contracts.

why, lord, why do i see that. please remove that image from my mind.

the god within me says 'no, you have to see that, it's truth'. fuck you, lord.

why can't i be the truth?

why didn't you pack that luggage in this particular brain compartment? fuckin ass omelet.

fillet o' turd.

if there actually was a god... all i can say is, he's got a lot of beatin' comin'.

i couldn't disagree with that fucker more if this were a contest on a reality show.

and yes, that's my final fuckin answer. ask me again, i'll stuff it in your ear.

sick of being the only freak in this circus.

close the eyes, stupid.

there's evolved music where people still beat the shit out of actual instruments, but have a more passionate and uplifting reason to do so, still plenty of anger to get out in a healthy artistic way, we're still making points and valid statements and educating eachother...

nothing has to be advertised. there are no 'products'. no 'shopping malls'.

no ads. anywhere. no price tags.

just flesh. music. evolved visual reciprocal hands-on education, love...

no fear, no monogamy, no stupid pathetic superstition or tradition...

no illogical indoctrination, no one making you feel ashamed or cutting you down...

you may think, 'well, if we're no longer being degraded, what's inspiring us to improve ourselves?'

that fuckin argument.

as if yin and yang can never just shake hands. smoke a bowl together. take a break.

i understand that friction is necessary to avoid stagnance, but at the same time, how can you tell me that this isn't stagnance? take a good look at what's around me.

the only friction i feel is two rocks grinding me between them.

and an anvil on my fuckin heart, but technically that's pressure, not friction.

you took physics, i didn't.

i feel like my ghost is just trying to shut me up now.

i'm gonna make a sammich and smoke for a while. i can't fuckin think anymore.

i don't... i don't even feel like...

this fuckin heart.

i don't even feel like i've had a joke of mine be laughed at in years.

i can't remember the last time someone thought i was funny. i certainly don't fuckin feel funny anymore. i feel like what i look like: angry. disappointed.

outcast. rogue.

honestly, i think there are too many fuckin words, and i wish i could just find a good one and stick on it.

but it seems like every person i talk to requires a slightly different definition of me.

hence the repeating being slightly different every time... i once thought that was my need for uniqueness, or my distaste for repetition, but...

i'm really starting to think this world has controlled me and deceived me a lot more than i've been able to control or even change any part of it.

i am molded by this world. not the other way around.

if these were my delusions, they're more real than i am.

and more... influential.

imprinted by a false texture, the reflection of a fraud.

no wonder i can't remember myself.

whatever i wanted to be...

...if it were ever relevant...

if i'm even displeased with the shit that comes out of me...

i don't think i've said anything that i've enjoyed saying for a while...

how can people expect a smile out of me when... all they're actually pulling out of me is...

solid gold high priced snobby hobby walrus shit.

on a fuckin turntable.

covered in five week old mcdonald's fries.

and splattered with a hunny mustard packet.

that's art.

if brian posehn is the fartist, i'm the shartist. eat that, turdbundle.

'f' is for 'futile'

most recent search attempt to find people like me...

fruitless.

start time: midnight, december twenty eight.
end time: one twenty am, december twenty eight.

last of my kind

will i ever even find any other morning people?

i really really hate being the only morning person i know.

the rest of you fuckers just sleep and work, sleep and work.

what year does the payoff finally happen?
in what fuckin nostradamus prediction does the fun finally happen in?

WHEN DOES THE FUCKING FUN START!!!?!

when do i finally get touched?

when the fuck does anything change...

depressing world

this is such a depressing fuckin world, man. no matter what i search google for, it doesn't fucking exist yet. heh. i can't even make the stupid little text box on this very page bigger. i searched the windows store for a google blogger app, there is no such thing. i spent the last half hour searching facebook and google for seattle nudists and naturists, exhibitionists, there is nothing, no results.

i'm in this motel. yesterday, the maid lady comes around, knocks on my door... the knocking is so impatient, that i rush to the door... i watch videos of girls answering the door naked for the pizza delivery guy, but i never see a naked pizza delivery girl. i see videos of the hotel maid walking into a room and catches the guy naked, but... what do i get? i get embarrassment, shame, humiliation, and a phone call from the front desk, saying 'don't be naked'.

where the fuck can i go, to find other people who refuse to wear clothing, people who refuse to hear any more rap music, people who... this is where my mind stops. i get two options into the list anymore, and my mind just stops right there. i can't ask my therapist about this, i can't ask sophia at the library about this, i can't ask anyone about this.

when do i get to stop feeling ashamed of myself. when do my talents get recognized so i can finally afford to get myself somewhere where people like me already exist, instead of having to conceive, build, and invent a fucking place where we can actually be happy without being nuked or abused by fascist control freaks who can't handle nudity or intellectual stimulation.

i'm losing my fucking mind here. i cannot be myself around anyone i know, no matter what. all i've ever heard is 'put your clothes on, turn that metal off, take a shower, how dare you ask that, no smoking, have a beer like everyone else, why don't you like coffee, why do you wear skirts, why can't you dress like a normal person and get a job, why is everything about you so wrong, why are you so angry and depressed, why can't you just be happy with the way this prison is like everyone else, we love having fears and clothing and repressed sexuality and excuses to not give a shit'.

these people don't realize that every suicide is just one more person desperately trying to escape their world because their world fucking sucks, it's not as cool as they make it seem. food is too expensive anywhere you go, everything costs too much when it shouldn't cost at all, and what the fuck are cops? are they really necessary? seems like every crime i've ever seen is a cop's fault in one way or another, just depends on who the fuck is looking at it, and from what angle, but i've never seen anyone competent enough to look at a crime and determine the real criminal, not even a judge.

that gives you a lot of faith in this world, doesn't it?

so if you're like me, and you don't like to wear clothing, and hate rap music, and would rather smoke weed and drink hot chocolate, than the societal norm of getting inebriated with alcohol to 'loosen up' every night, the resurrecting your corpse with coffee every morning, and loading your day full of addictions and a ritual based on fear and comfort, satiation and contentment, excess and dreams of unattainable luxury...

i feel dumber the more i say. i can barely even type right now with my stiff back just hurting and it won't stop, the pain will not let up for one fucking minute, it's just this constant wrenching fucking agony and i can barely breath over it. and no one gives a fuck. no one except maybe greg.

i'll never find a woman who gives a shit about me. all women want to do is change me.

i'll never find anyone who actually wants to see me naked or touch me.

it doesn't matter where i search. i could give google a bunch of crack, and still get no results. because naked people just do not exist on this fucking pathetic planet. i haven't found one yet. haven't talked to a single fucking naked person in forty years.

at least... that's how i feel.

they're not still here, so...

they're too busy working and shopping.

if you're anything like me...
prefer to be naked...
hate coffee, alcohol and rap music...
prefer hot chocolate, heavy metal, and weed...

heh...

i just can't stop wondering at this point...

why the fuck won't you talk to me?
why the fuck won't any of you touch me?
why the fuck won't any of you make yourselves visible to me?

because it's the only thing this world has ever told me...

it's too much to ask.

that's why it still hasn't happened yet.

out of seven billion people, every last single fuckin one of them needs clothing.
out of seven billion people, every single last fuckin one of them likes rap.
and coffee, and alcohol, and fear, and jobs, and money...

this is such a fucking endless nightmare for me, i barely even see death as a way out of it.

i've seen though my own ghost's eyes...

tried flying away, tried swimming away, tried running away, tried evaporating into darkness...

the agony persists.

these stupid people just won't go away.

i've imagined ghosts designing their own ships...
then the living see this herd of ships leaving the earth with no visible occupants...

would it ever occur to them, that it was the dead souls leaving their planet because we found a better fuckin teevee show to change the fuckin channel to!

does that thought puff like weed smoke in their heads?

do they think, 'wow, all the dead souls just left our planet, i wonder why'...

'did we suck that much?'

'they really didn't like being here, maybe we should do something different'...

yeah, it wasn't bad enough that so many people killed themselves.

that didn't help accelerate the clue.

why do i feel so fucking alone, so fucking alien, so fucking ugly...

on a planet that's no less alone, alien, and ugly than i am?

why can't i belong anywhere?

why can't i be around naked metalheads instead of cops and 'put your clothes on!' idiots?

why can't weed replace alcohol, why can't hot chocolate replace coffee, why can't heavy metal replace rap?

why can't men grow the fuck up and stop staring at me, and why can't women grow the fuck up and touch me? when is anything going to fucking change?

how the fuck can i change it when i can't get the first person to give a shit?

how do you walk across a bridge of clothed people to get to the land of nudity?

no one will even read this.

same feeling

god, i fuckin hate myself, i hate my life, and i fuckin wanna die.

i still have no people in my life.

seven billion people on this planet, and they're all busy being stupid.

i know why nothing changes.

red pill blues

it's still raining outside.

sunday morning, eight am.

watching the red pill, wanting to marry cassie jaye. wonder if she realizes how many men want to marry her now, i know i'm not the only one, we're in love.

one of my biggest questions, that i know there's only one good answer to, is 'who raises the children?', because the only good answer to that, i know for a fact, and i wish that this is what society was built around, literally, i think it's very vital for the village to raise the children, no exceptions, we've gotten this fucked because we haven't been raised by the village!

men can't understand women, women can't understand men, and neither of us are very much attracted to eachother right now because we've been so conditioned and indoctrinated to be attracted to mister suit and tie and little miss boob job. little miss 'sex object', and mister 'success object'. ladies, you can bet your tushie that's how i feel.

i do not want a woman who's just going to be attracted to what i've got over who i am. if women want equality, the way i see it, you need to grow some balls and rape some of us. i'm first in that line. i'm drivin' that fuckin bus and i've cut the brake lines.

too many of these people don't want to admit or realize that money and wealth are the true enemy, it's not a patriarchy because men built everything, it's a patriarchy because rich men built everything while simultaneously using and oppressing the poor to do so. when are they going to realize, the reason we're all so confused, misled, and alone right now, is because of the control that wealth has had over us. it's not the people who are evil criminals, it is and has always been the conversations between these people that is the true evil. the sooner we realize that, the sooner we'll figure out how to balance ourselves off this unstable foundation.

the wealthy man has done a good job of cloaking himself in the skin of a regular man. he has deceived you. remember the sale. the handshake, the flaming sleeve.

building a better society

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still here

not really sure what the fuck i'm doing lately. hating everything i see. staying away from males. obnoxious, belligerent, barbaric fucks. they're all the same. clone number one, dragging his pants on the ground. clone number two, shorts and flip flops. clone number three, suit and tie and god complex. i know that i'm absolutely sick of money and society. if money is the root of all evil, the entire tree which grows from that demon root, every pathetic aspect of this society, i fucking deeply loathe. i know that. everything that ever stemmed from anything to do with that dollar bill and the control it offers. from monogamy and marriage, to how we raise our children, to the laziness with which we use our own language without evolving it to something simpler and more efficient. the way we dress, the fact that we can never ever be naked. we have to be perfect little obedient, complacent, docile consumers at all times and can't have a moment of enjoyment. the only thing that attracts a female is a fat wallet. everything is fucking pathetic and i'm unhappy with it. i'm very sure of all that. i'm at least a thousand years before my time. painfully aware of that. i'm also aware of the fact that whenever i think of my ideal life, i can't help diving miserably into the cycle of everything i hate. it hurts to even picture my community lately. because the chances of ever getting it to start are at once so seemingly possible, yet so impossible. so i'm telling my therapist about this, and seeing if i can change that little thought. sometime soon. how do you stop seeing everything that makes you miserable? how do you stop letting it make you feel miserable? how do you numb yourself to hell while walking through the depths of it? picturing a heaven that won't exist until you build it... because every other heaven is a fraud. how the fuck.

reverse psychology of trivial traditional paranoia

whenever i say that i don't deserve anyone's attention, people say 'if that's what you say, that's what you're gonna get'.

okay. then let's try it the other way, shall we? and see what happens?

i deserve everyone's attention!

now, what do you think they would say?

i'll bet you a thousand fucking bucks.

go ahead, say it.

oh, but they're always right?

i think i just proved them all... not only wrong, but stupid.

but do you think they'd listen? or change?

oh, i'm still wrong, i'm sure.

fuck you, society.

you keep living under the same rock, one of these days, i'm gonna step on it.

place a landmine under it.

every member of a monetary society is a selfish coward.

prove me wrong. go ahead. i'm daring you.

fuck you all.

inevitable suicide

i fuckin' hate this fuckin' life so much. i'm so totally fucking done living it. trying to make friends. it's fucking pointless. there's no one i want to be friends with. i hate everything i see. spent the last few months talking to ron and abbey, they couldn't give a fuck about me. i haven't heard from dawn in months, so she obviously cares. that's really the only three people i've managed to connect with this whole time, and i can't get them to give a fuck about me. i can't get them to even reciprocate what i give, they just think i'm not giving anything. fuck it. what the fuck is the point. i'm so done living this stupid pathetic fucking life. i can't wait to get the fuck off this stupid plastic fucking planet. a planet full of consumers, and i was hoping to make a friend out of one of them. what a fucking moron. how so many people have to persistently misunderstand me like it hasn't gotten fun enough yet.

fuck you all.
fuck your planet.
fuck your products.
fuck your fears.
fuck your excuses.
fuck your dogs, gods, and drugs.
fuck your skintight pants.
and fuck you.

alien comfort

i fucking want to die so goddamn bad.
i'm sick of living this fucking life.
i'm done. i give up. i'm fed up.

no one will ever give a fuck about me.
cause it costs too much and the excuses are free!

fuckin' proud of this little piece of poetry

if this involves my freedom of speech or willingness to listen, am i allowed to speak? do i have a choice to listen? do i have to live life your way? if that's the only reason i'm on this planet is to follow your orders, count me out. did you hear that correctly, do i need to repeat myself? i refuse to live life your way. that's the purpose of my existence; to resist everything you've got. society isn't capable of grasping this concept, but i'm a metalhead. there are always song titles i can think of when people like you won't stop telling me how to live. 'whatever you got, i'm against it' by murderdolls, or 'people hate me' by murderdolls, or 'pure hatred' by chimaira, or 'replica' by fear factory, where he sings 'i don't want to live that way', pick a metal song, i can explain how it sings against people like you. people like you are responsible for the destruction of my life, but would you take responsibility, or keep blaming it on me? who's the real child here? why can't you grasp that i don't have to live how you want me to? what part of that don't you understand? where in the concept of 'i'm not you' are you dumb enough to get confused? do i have to keep asking these same questions for the rest of my life? will i ever get a legitimate answer, something with more human effort that doesn't puss out before the satisfaction line is reached? aren't you the least bit curious yet why i oppose society like a thumb? have i overloaded your brain yet, have i asked you too many questions? stop typing in all caps, learn how to fucking spell and form a sentence, and then i might be inspired to act more like you. till then, i'm living life my way, and you're just gonna have to grow up and come to terms with that. every person on this planet does not have to be a 'you' clone. you need to stop telling people how to live your life, and let them speak freely, or sites like this need not exist. the internet doesn't need a boss, and neither do i. you do not own me, and you need to get that through your thick skull. it all comes back to the point in my first question; did i ask for your loving input? no, i did not. i was asking for sympathy, not orders. there is a massive difference. see, sympathy heals. orders kill. that's exactly why i'm living this way, i'm sick of following orders, building a system that doesn't want me. i'll bet you twenty bucks, you're one of those 'one world government' supporters, aren't you? slavery, fascism, tyranny, that's okay with you? really? for me to have no choice whatsoever, you think that's okay? yet another reason i've dropped off your morbid pyramid, but that's not your responsibility to know. if you don't know me, and don't understand anything about me, why must you keep stomping on my life and telling it how to grow like a weed in a sidewalk of your precious, perfect happy world, why must i keep encountering your negative, finger-pointing, mirrored insult, pot-and-kettle, closed-minded, order-throwing kind? why can't you just leave me alone and stop telling me how to live? that's what pushes me away from your society more and more each time. are you capable of comprehending that? how stupid do you have to assume i am to still want to live in your mold? to want your god, your job, your IQ. why can't you stop? why can't you stop? why can't you stop telling me how to live? do you think that's the normal way to behave? do you think that's acceptable? excusable? can you not give up on this dictatorship and let me breathe for once, let me speak, let me experiment? do you even think the freedom of speech should exist? would you rather piss on the constitution, the bill of rights, the declaration? i've declared my independence from you so many times, i could laugh in reverse, but all scientific evidence tells me you have yet to evolve ears, which is why you're not hearing me, could i be more correctly observing this situation than you? is that a possibility in your perfect holy world? can you ask your god if my question makes sense to you? if you can't fit me in your head, stop trying. perhaps i don't belong in your moldy mold, you're shoving a square peg into your round hole, and not wondering why it won't go, that's the argument science and religion have been caught in for decades now, but someone's not paying attention, so if a scientist discovers evolution quietly in a forest, does god know? hmm... boy, i can see how these questions would puzzle you, but i don't care, it's my job in this life to offend everyone and pry those third eyes open without mercy, so... ooh, sorry, you need a tidy wipe? are we done yet? can i be understood yet? i've only been caught in this loop of yours for twenty years now, but go ahead, keep it going, i'm loving this argument, i've almost got it diagnosed, then i can turn in my dissertation and get my futhermuckin' ph.d. and since i don't have a wall, i'll hang it on yours, how's that sound? still wanna keep this argument going? still wanna keep telling me how i'm supposed to live your life to comfort you cause you can't admit how scared you are to deny that you don't know what darkness we're flying through, or what part of it you actually constitute? does it blow your mind that we're standing on the surface of a living organism and above our heads is infinity? does that hurt your brain? did i kill a brain cell? is that five points? are you dizzy? do you need to take a nap? cause that little concept makes my brain tingle like my pineal gland just had an orgasm, so i'm gonna keep picking my nose obsessively like a kid with a spinny hat, and you can keep trying to lead this pack of retarded sheep in the wrong direction and see how far you get, just let this one ugly sheep go off on his own, and find the source of this telepathic tingling in the twilight of your highest sanity from fifteen thousand years ago... did i miss something? where'd he go?