i don't do moderate well. extremes are where i live.

i don't have 'sex' dreams very often (i can count the number on three fingers), so when i do they seem very profound.

everyone is having such a good time of things. i must spend more time alone, i am getting weak and forgetting my resolve. i must not require others.

a call to arms that never comes. no spite, only solitude. i will become unable to answer tonight, then it will come.

no one needs my help. aside from driving them places, or moving something for them. my offers of help and love and support go unclaimed. i used to be the rock that people could cling to in their moment of need as they travel down the river of life. now i am just a rock. everyone has their stability from somewhere else.

the story of my life.

my venture into the living world was short lived. my demons revoked my visa; returned me back to my plane of existence. a price has to be payed for my excursion, a price i thought i paid upon entrance to the reality which i inhabited the past few days, the past few weeks. i have no currency my demons will accept other then suffering, which i seem to have a limitless supply of. they will collect it for forty days and forty nights. after i will not be a better person. that which will not kill me will only leave me a hollow shell of a human. solitude.

depressants plus depressants plus one who is naturally depress equals depression and despair.

driving home first thing in the morning sucks. i refuse to do it. coffee, who wakes up the earliest in the city. that is my friend.

does anyone find it stsrange that i write about doing violence to others? does anyone enjoy it?

my little sister goes to a church sponsored youth group. they sing this song (and a lot of others that are equally crazy):


i like banana's woo i know that mangoes are sweet,
i like papaya's (papaya's)
but nothing can beat, that sweet love of god....


well i was walking round in circles 5 miles per hour,
trying to find my way back to the heavenly father
i asked him in and received his power,
ooh ah e


i like banana's, woo i know that mangoes are sweet,
i like papaya's (papaya's)
but nothing can beat, that sweet love of god....


well i was walking round in circles 5 miles per hour,
trying to find my way back to the heavenly father
i asked him in and received his power,
ooh ah e


i like banana's, woo i know that mangoes are sweet,
i like papaya's (papaya's)
but nothing can beat, that sweet love of god....


repeat the whole thing again!








they are comparing god to the sweet taste of fruit. crazy kids, crazy church, crazy god.

no reason to drink. no one to make out with. i'll live alone forever. combination of vanilla vodka and darvocet. floating. i want to be able to fly. no DUI. one day i will give up.

i feel like i'm missing a large portion of natural reaction. makes me feel fake.
this song makes me feel. stone roses, i want to be adored. i feel a connection with someone. i have someone to share my pain with. they feel the same pain as me. it is a competition in depression. who's the most fucked up. it's kind of amusing... an exciting moment in depression. we need an announcer.

the brain doesn't handle absence. trying to not think is impossible, one can only think of something else.

false patriotism makes me ill. i went to the supermarket yesterday and realized that the current state of humanity disgusts me.

back on the pain meds. questions of cannibals floated through my mind all night at a friend's birthday dinner. i let one slip as we started eating the chocolate raspberry cake. they say i am weird.

i feel free. it is the same kind of free that i get when i purposefully leave my cell phone in my car. it is annoying that i can't turn it back on. my computer broke.

i only get 15 mile per gallon of gas in my truck. i have to drive at least 30 miles one way to get anywhere.

i've gone crazy with the quizzes.

Fight Club!


What movie Do you Belong in?(many different outcomes!)
brought to you by Quizilla

con. i am not an artist of coning. i manage to find and utilize loop holes in corporate stores. costco, gamestop, circuit city. i'm not a bad man. i'm just good at being.