Saturday, December 19, 2015

Don't You Dare Try and Be More Depressed Than Me, Bitch

So I went to grab a pack of smokes on my way home from a script writing session (Angles of Life, most depressing comedy ever motherfucker), and the lady at the gas station was acting all lethargic.

"Debit or credit?" she inquires.

"Debit," I respond. I swipe my card.

"You hit a button before I could enter it in the computer, that's awesome."

I hadn't hit a button, I had merely swiped my card. It was amusing though, so I felt the need to out-depress her.

"We all have jobs we hate," I say to her.

She paused a second, taken aback, and the responded with
"It's just so hot in here." 

"Well it's bitter cold out, there's probably homeless people dying in this weather outside."

Another silent pause followed, and I ended with a "Have a nice night and happy holidays."

Just sell me my boges without bitching and sighing and I won't ruin your night with some reality, yo. I just wanna go home, microwave a slice of Ellio's pizza, throw some natural shredded cheese over the top, and chain smoke my Marlboro 100's in between bowls of dispensary weed. Is that so much to ask?

Apparently it is, as I got hit up on Facebook shortly after arriving home. Here is the chat that followed.

Bitch, I want my Russian mail order bride ASAP. Don't taunt me you troll fuck. And I know, you're*

Friday, December 11, 2015

Missed Opportunities

Lament not the changing of tides and winds of change. Step over the missed opportunities piling at your feet like the figurative shavings off of your scarred soul. Learn from your mistakes and your missteps, utilize the knowledge found to further yourself. Let the pain of the present engulf a flame of burning passion to better the future, to move forward, onward and upward....

....or spiral down into the abyss of self-loathing apathy, miserable at the consequences you now face, the results of poor decisions, the results of jumping to conclusions. The death of potential romance leaves a hollowed out pit of numbness in your gut. The deceit of miscommunication clutches at your throat and drains all optimism, spilling out into a festering pool of despair, self-doubt, and stinging remorse.

Or just pack up a fat bowl of dispensary weed and jack off a few times.

Monday, December 7, 2015

Netflix and Chill

Netflix and chill is all the rage these days. You hear the term and variations of it thrown around liberally. Hulu and commitment, Amazon Prime and anal, cable television and handjobs, HBO Go and blow and blowjobs. It's no longer a hushed topic of conversation among bros and gaggles of female friends, it's moved right into the mainstream lexicon and people are openly acknowledging that we're all lustful animals that want to eat, drink, and whore our way throughout our 20's and early 30's. Nothing wrong with that. Couple that with Tinder and Uber, and you can have a rotating schedule of various women that you met and seduced on a cell phone app that you can then send home on a taxi ordered through another cell phone app. Not exactly the future predicted in the Jetson's, but whatever....fuck it, I'll take it.

If you think about it, Netflix and chill is really just the modern equivalent of dinner and movie dates. But there are really tons of benefits to Netflix and chill over your classic "dinner and a movie" date our parents used to go on.

1. You can smoke pot liberally. Sure, you can sneak a few J's into the movie theater...but I wouldn't suggest it. You don't want to trigger the fire alarm when you go see the Finding Nemo spin-off....or give children a contact high. They gotta pay if they wanna get lit, dawg.

2. You can drink liberally. No need to have your next potential girlfriend / fuck bud / booty call / hated ex sneak in a few 40's and moonshine nips into the theater. No need to ditch the empties and move two rows up in the theater. You gotta break the seal and take a mega piss? Pause the fucking movie. Take your time, tickle your butt cheeks a bit and strain out those extra few drops. The movie isn't going anywhere. The girl on your couch getting more hot and bothered as each minute passes isn't going anywhere. Shit, you can even piss right out your window if it's not the first "date." Give her a sample viewing of the meat she's about to dine on before the movie even finished introducing all the main characters.

3. You don't need to awkwardly propose the post-date hangout after the credits're already IN the post-date hangout. There is no date. If a girl is willing to come over and watch Netflix with you alone in your room, it's clear the pretense exists that the two of you wanna fuck each others brains out like rabbits on ecstasy. Have at it! Half the time you won't even make it 15 minutes into the movie before she's grabbing your dick and grinding against your side. So instead of having to wait until the credits roll, walk into the crisp night air and awkwardly fumble your words in the parking lot propositioning your date for some post-cinematic chilling, you'll more than likely be balls deep before the credits even roll. If you're a marksman you'll probably even get the Netflix "are you still watching this?" screen whilst still in the throes of coitus. No Netflix, we're not watching it, but it's good noise cover so everyone else in the house doesn't hear me going to pound town for the next 45 minutes, so by all means, hit me with the next episode or recommended movie.

4. You can pick a shitty movie, get right to business, then move on to something you actually DO want to watch after you've already got the sexual tension cleared.

5. Save some money. It's safe to assume everyone (at least in westernized culture) is hedonistic, morally deprived, and desperate to find meaning in this dying culture through attention whoring, social media, and dangerous sexual gratification. In light of this, why spend money on some chick who's leaving your house in the morning to go take a shower in the afternoon to get ready to ride another dudes cock in the night? Investing money into relationships is pointless, because relationships are dead. The movies lied, folks. Basically you find someone to fuck for a little while, one of you starts fucking someone else, and it ends. Half the time people don't even have the common decency to inform the other person they're bailing on the fuck arrangement and ghost the poor bastard / poor broad. So why not invest your money in yourself instead? $9 a month for Netflix could be your one way ticket to pound town.

Friday, October 9, 2015

Make Me a Fucking Sandwich and Wipe That Look Off Your Hipster Face, Cunt

The other night I decided to purchase a microphone. Both on the way to the Best Buy and the journey home afterwards, I smoked a good amount of cannabis, leaving me craving some sort of delicious fast food sustenance. Upon my friends suggestion, I stopped at a local sandwich shop called "Weepin' Willies." Being far too stoned to realize the place was close to closing, we popped in and I grabbed two sandwiches. Had to be the worst customer service I've ever experienced, call centers and laptop trouble shooting services be damned. Horrible attitude, terrible customer service, and then when I got home to eat the sandwich, it absolutely sucked. So I took to Yelp to express my thoughts on the experience.


Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Arrested for Being A Piece of Shit (Over Mac and Cheese)

There is a reason that when you are a child, a thing called "the belt" or "the backhand" would oftentimes come into play. As unfair as your childish, prepubescent mind made it out to be, the threat of physical repercussions over wrong doing, these objects of uncompromising justice would serve as warnings for irrational and shitty behavior.

Little kids are oftentimes shitty people and need to be put in their place - verbally and physically.

Nowadays, it's frowned upon for parents to give their kids a swift kick in the ass. For merely implementing (reasonable) physical force, parents are ostracized as abusive or neglectful. Dislocating your kids jaw for breaking a plate is out of line, obviously, I'm not suggesting excessive physical abuse is a moral method of parenting. But when a kid is knowingly acting like the little sociopath that undeveloped minds tend to act like, they need to be put in check. This is teaching the children right and wrong. And some times a really shitty act requires the infliction of moderate pain to sort it out in a kids brain.
I remember getting punished. If I was acting like a piece of shit to my older sister, I'd get the belt, and same for her when she was shitty to me. We didn't have welts and bruises - it's not exactly difficult to instill fear with minimum pain on a child. It's more about the fear of the consequences than the severity of the consequences themselves - these are young minds. You're not trying to physically scar them, only mentally check them.

You know what happens when you don't enforce punishments beyond taking away a kids Iphone or Xbox? 

They'll end up like this shit head.

Right off the bat, the first thing I gotta mention is how much of an amateur this little bitch is. If you plan on getting heavily intoxicated and grabbing some munchies in public, it'd be wise to finish your beer BEFORE you made it to the food court. How many wine coolers did this smug, Justin Beiber looking faggot drink before he stumbled into this establishment? And for that matter, don't you know how to cook your own damn mac and cheese with bacon and jalapeno? Possessing the skills to boil water, mix in powdered cheese, butter and milk and pan fry (or oven bake) bacon could have been the difference of a jail sentence of assault, disturbing the peace and public intoxication. (Although this idiot would have probably cut off a finger trying to chop up a jalapeno pepper.)

The manager showed a respectable amount of restraint. And he had to - if he took the little bitch down with a right hook, he'd be faced with a lawsuit. It almost comes across like this jackass planned to be filmed and hoped to get a lawsuit, or, more likely than not, become Youtube famous and have a viral smash hit on his hands.

Maybe a few lashings in this kids adolescence would have stripped him of this desperate validity seeking mindset, which is not unlike idiots taking selfies from dangerous locations and literally dying in the process, or chicks on tumblr posting pictures that would make their parents blush and grandparents roll around in their graves seeking likes and comments from complete strangers on the internet ogling their erotic amateur photography whilst masturbating in a dingy apartment with the methodical sound of "fap fap fap" echoing about nearly as loud as the shame and loneliness coating the miserable room.

So was it a drunken mishap? Had too many bud light limes, got flaked on his last 3 Tinder dates and he just wanted Mac N Cheese? Or was it being raised by complacent and inattentive parents who were afraid to punish him for shitty behavior? As far as I can tell, this kid is either too incompetent to cook Mac N Cheese or too much of a piece of shit to behave in public. Or, worse than both still, making a public mockery of himself in a pathetic attempt for internet fame. All three roads lead to him being an asshole.

Sunday, September 20, 2015

People Who Brag About Their Beards Are Douchebags

I see this new trend on Facebook - people bragging about beards. Beard pride. Beard memes. Shirts that have some stupid quote about beards, followed by the enthusiastic "I need this shirt!" and three or more enthusiastic faggots chiming in "Totally, brah. Let's go wear matching beard shirts at the bar, play beer pong and make passes at slutty college girls while we look for Trapt on the Jukebox."

Maybe what you all need is some ambition, purpose, and a personality that isn't siphoned off internet trends.

Seriously, why the fuck would you brag about growing a beard? A friend of mine, his dad has a beard that would make the members of ZZ Top blush, but I guarantee if he was exposed to this current trend of "beard pride" he would shave his decades old beard off immediately to disassociate from the gaggle of beard pride faggots.

How little do you have going on in your life that you post daily shit about your beard?

Seriously, is that all you have to offer up? And why is it that every douche bag I see posting beard pride memes is posting depressing, woe is me, attention seeking status a week later? Your beard pride posts are clearly intended to give off a fun-loving, cheeky personality...but you just look like a hive-mind of idiots bragging about not taking a razor to your jawline like it's some massive accomplishment, and the next week after a barrage of memes your true, hollowed out core becomes visible.

I thought having a beard was supposed to be the peak of masculinity, according to your memes? Why then do you post shit that's the equivalent of a high school girl on her period two days after an abortion and one week after a breakup?

How about getting a hobby, finding passion in something, honing a talent...ANYTHING besides regurgitating corny memes about facial hair. I mean, look at this shit....

 The "Keep Calm" bullshit was pile driven into the ground like a sorority girl on prom night long, long ago. Combining it with this hipster beard bullshit is just too much.

How clever, it dramatically increases your wood-chopping capabilities! And sharing this meme in earnest increases your unoriginal piece of shit capabilities, too!

Don't apologize, if you are that proud of the hair that sprouts on your face my rhetoric will likely go right over your (bearded) head. 

'm sure you do, buddy. The fact you are so proud of your facial hair clearly indicates you have so little going on in your life, that you must then take selfies and share them on social media to get the validation you desperately crave to fill the giant hole in your life where original thought, talent and ambition is supposed to go.
I like having a beard, sure. And I definitely hate when I try to even it out and have to chop it back down to basics and let it regrow. But I don't LOVE having a beard. I don't feel like it defines my personality like most of these drones throwing bumper stickers on their trucks and buying "bearded for her pleasure" t-shirts.

People really ought to stop compensating for being uninteresting with this bullshit, it's kind of pathetic. It's the equivalent of middle aged women sharing minions memes.

Thursday, September 17, 2015

What's the Point?

It's simultaneously hilarious and depressing how most people act nowadays. Brothers stabbing each other in the back for some easy trim, without even warning the dude that their chick is a sloppy slut. Chicks playing 5 guys at the same time, fucking 3 of them, and still looking for more side dick....without their boyfriend ever knowing. She's texting the poor bastard "I miss you so much :^p" minutes before Chad shows up with wine coolers and no condoms. Then one of these side guys plays the bitch and ditches her, and she'll go on to say "all men are jerks." Well....maybe you shouldn't have tried ALL MEN and just stuck to one.
What is the point of a relationship nowadays? No one has any loyalty. No one has any mutual respect for each other. We are the generation of "ME, ME, ME!" Once the honeymoon phase of the relationship is over, the man becomes too complacent...he becomes too comfortable and relaxed - poor bastard doesn't realize the nature of modern day women pertain to ALL women. So the guy stops courting her, thinking the battle is over.....he's won! He's earned her love and now he doesn't have to try as hard to keep her entertained and stimulated 24/7. Right? RIGHT? WRONG.

All the while
the woman becomes bored and restless. She wants a life like her favorite drama shows. She wants to be the center of attention, and not just her boyfriends attention but attention when she goes out in public...on her social media accounts...with the half dozen likes on each selfie she posts, complete with a thousand eye slut stare that has the tiniest glimmer of sadness and regret. Not being courted any longer, she'll start entertaining thoughts of other men, and begin to emotionally cheat - and often - through text, Facebook, Snapchat, Whats App, KIK, and more.

Snapchat...are you fucking kidding me with that shit? A texting app that automatically deletes all messages in a 24 hour period of time? Fellas, if your girl has snapchat I highly suggest you reevaluate just how much you care about her. Because that is the shadiest fucking app I've ever heard of. It's basically invented for the purpose of facilitating cheating and infidelity.

So the relationship continues - the guy is like a pig in shit, happy to finally have a woman he actually cares about stick around beyond the first 4 to 10 casual bangs as he's accustomed to, not even realizing she's growing more bored and distant by the day, the feminist propaganda subconsciously ingrained into her brain - "You gotta play the field, girl! What has he done for you lately?" Then things start getting rough with money, or his car breaks down, or any other miscellaneous bullshit called - read it - LIFE - happens, and now her interest plummets. The mans stocks in her vagina take a nasty nose dive, and all those guys she constantly leads on and flirts with now look like viable options...more viable options, at least. Because they've always been at the back of her mind as backup plans.

As Chris Rock once said, her male friends are dicks in glass cases. "In case of emergency, break glass." Hell, half the time there doesn't even need to be an emergency beyond a casual mood swing, and the glass is broken and the cock is balls deep down the bitches throat while her boyfriend sits at home playing Xbox. He's satisfied with his hobby, a harmless video game....and she's satisfied with her hobby, taking dick.
Eventually the man will become suspicious, or better yet, he'll start to acknowledge the suspicions he's had all along. " my potential housewife an actual whore? This equation doesn't add up." No sir, it does not add up. Chicks don't just punch in their whore time card, they don't just turn in their gun and slut badge and move on as decent human beings. She'll always be a slut, so long as her body stays tight and face stays pretty. She'll always seek validation through sex. She'll always equate her self-worth by how much attention men are giving her, both superficially, orally, vaginally, and anally. So now the rose tinted glasses are starting to crack and all the flags that blended in to the superficial relationship are showing their true colors - red. Red flags, as far as the eye can see! And the guy begrudgingly clings to the relationship, scared to go back to masturbating into his sheets pining for the touch of another human, afraid of the lonely hours swiping on Tinder.
Eventually shit will hit the fan. Something will set one or both of the people in the relationship off, and more often than not the woman will end it. The real pieces of shit will suggest a break. What the fuck is a break in a relationship? Just because you remove the word "up" from "break up" doesn't make a "break" anything other than a "break up." When a woman asks for a BREAK, what they're really saying is:

"There's someone else I've been meaning to fuck for a while. You know, that guy that texts me at 3 AM? I tell you he's just a friend, but you've always been suspicious? Well he's been emotionally supporting me all this time I've been putting distance between us and now I want to go fuck him for a week or two. But when and if that runs it's course I want a backup plan. I know, I know, we've been dating for a year and a half and I should, in theory, actually have honest and true feelings about you, but the fleeting emotional states and mood swings of my womanhood constantly put the honesty and truth of our relationship into compromise. I said I can't picture myself with anyone else, and less than a half hour later Chad was hitting me up, and it started making me think....I can be with someone else. Him. Today. After I fuck you over." 

If you take a break, you're a fucking idiot. The second she stops crying long enough to pick up her cell phone she has 10 to 15 dudes or more ready to pounce, offering her comfort and attention in the hopes of taking advantage of her vulnerable state of mind and smashing her out. Hell, some of them might have already been smashing her out while she was still in a relationship. 100% of women have a "side guy," either to fuck when things go awry or to fuck when their boyfriend is at work. Hell, most of them have a variety of fall back options. Because a woman is only as loyal as her options dictate. And in this day and age of fast, easy, loose validation and social media bullshit, getting laid for women is as easy as shooting dicks in a barrel.

So you break things off, and the second you do this, the female is rushing to the next dick, hitting up your friends to spite you, posting attention seeking bullshit on Facebook in hopes of landing more dick. The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else? Keep telling yourself that, sister. That's just an excuse to fuck all the dudes you had on backup and were planning to smash the second your ex boyfriends bank account dried up. And then after she takes another spin (or 20) on the cock carousel, she has the audacity to come crawling back like a worm, a humorless slug. She's run through a half dozen cocks in her post-breakup haze, and now she feels used...she wants to get that emotional connection going again. So the ex she fucked over, emotionally (and probably physically) cheated on, is now back in her rotation - or at least, that's what she wants.

The funny thing is, the guy hasn't been getting laid. He's been wallowing in self-pity and hatred, wondering where he went wrong, what he said, what he did to drive her away. Well, buddy, I got news for were too nice. You treated her like a human being, when she wanted to be treated like a cum rag. You wifed up a slam pig and expected her to be faithful, and had the best of intentions...but it was never meant to be. She probably used her twisted, sociopathic woman logic to make YOU feel guilty too. Telling you you're paranoid, delusional, that you don't trust her. And all the while she's emotionally connecting to a half dozen other guys, even starting dialogue with NEW guys, giving you every reason to be paranoid and suspicious. But it's all YOUR fault, broh. You're supposed to keep her happy! Happy wife, happy life, right? The only problem there is a happy wife is usually happy because she's getting dicked down on the side while her husband slaves away to provide for his family.

They all come crawling back, and it's always with this false innocence. Lying about what they've been up to. "I never go out anymore! I just sit at home." Bullshit. You wanted to take a break so that you could sit in your room all the time? How about being a decent human being and telling the fucking truth for once? JUST FOR ONCE....being honest. To the person who sacrificed his social life, money, and time to make YOU happy. To ensure that your relationship together would last. And here she comes, crawling back without even a sliver of guilt or remorse for all the shitty, fucked up things she's done towards the end of the relationship, or all the nasty perverted sexual acts she committed two hours after the relationship and every day afterwards for the two months you sacked up and stayed no contact.

So you let her back into your life. You bring up a mutual friend.... "That guy is a scumbag." Great, glad you think so, honey, because that basically translates to "Ya...he fucked and chucked me. Like minutes after you dropped me off when we broke up." Things will seem good if you take her back, even as just a fuck bud to get your nut off and cuddle with occasionally. But it all comes crumbling down in one of two ways. One way is when the girl has the gall to say "You're just using me for sex!" So it's all right for women to use men for money, entertainment, attention, validation, and social status, but when a man wants to be friends and fuck a lot, all the sudden he's just using you for your body?

The other way it comes crumbling down is when you find out about her fucking someone else...or even worse...finding out about ALL the other people she's fucking. The fucked up thing is, the man wouldn't give a shit she's having sex with other people, so long as they aren't his friends, if she was just honest. But the girl always needs to put a different spin on it, lie about what she's been up to. "I've just been sitting at my house, bored" translates to "I've been having guys make house calls for the past two months and got tired of feeling like a used up whore so I was hoping to rekindle something with you, given the fact you actually were stupid enough to care about me or take me seriously."

If you feel like you're being "used for sex" perhaps you should have something MORE to offer beyond sex.

Maybe learn how to cook and clean...I know the bullshit feminist arguments cry out against women having ANY responsibility beyond fucking men over and stealing half their shit in divorce, and I know they claim cooking and cleaning is somehow degrading for a woman to misogynistic of me to suggest women take responsibility in a relationship....but what the fuck else are you gonna do? Chop the wood outside? Pay the bills? Pay for yourself on dates? Don't make me laugh, you entitled cunts ain't gonna do any of that shit...because you don't need to. You can drop everything in life, find a male to fuck, work your charm and become a leech sucking all the happiness, charisma, and money from the poor bastard until you leave him as a hollow shell and move on to your next prey.

Relationships are a big cluster fuck of emotions where the instant one of the parties shows too much interest or is too nice, the other immediately recoils back and self-destructs the entire thing. And despite mainstream media constantly painting men out to be the assholes, it's quite the contrary....women, by and large, initiate the breakups, initiate the divorces, flirt with guys on the side and act naive enough to believe platonic friendship can exist between two people who find each other attractive. "Oh don't worry about him." (Sub-clause: YET) The second something goes wrong, who do you think is gonna be swooping in like a fucking vulture, offering her a shoulder to cry on and lap to weep into? That guy "FRIEND" who masturbates furiously to the thought of fucking her every second Thursday and third full moon.

And playing dumb...gotta love that. You catch a woman in her lies, you have the EVIDENCE of them being shady and overall a shitty person / friend / lover, and they try to turn it back around on you, try to somehow explain it's YOUR fault they strayed because "you weren't giving me enough attention" or "I was lonely." So instead of entertaining yourself when you're bored, finding a hobby (LIKE COOKING FOR FUCKS SAKE) or even exercising, your go to mode is "Hey, lets fish for attention on social media." Getting dicked down left and right by every dude willing to smash, then lying to the poor bastard who thinks of you as a special flower. You tell him you just sit bored in your room like Princess Rapunzel or some shit, but meanwhile you're getting railed by some guy who's cheating on his girlfriend and the mother of his three children yelling "FUCK THAT ASS HARDER, STEVE!" like some sort of deranged porn star trying to fill the void of her dads validation with as much cock in as many orifices as she can handle in her weekly quota.

This generation fucking sucks. No loyalty, no honesty. The more honest you are the more you get shit on. And the assholes who throw on a fake smile and pretend to be everyone's friends, that insincere optimism, that self-centered narcissism, preying on women with the promise of drugs and alcohol...they're celebrated by the dumb and loathed by the honest. On and on it goes, a generation cast aside, decaying with rampant political correctness, dishonesty, and forced "social justice" campaigns.

So basically, what's the point?

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

The Specter City Slasher (Jon of the Shred)

Here to kick your teeth in and fuck your mom is a brand new synthwave, heavy metal, orchestral prog rock album. 12 crisp tracks to serve as the montage music of the impending zombie apocalypse.

 synthwave metal

Never heard of synthwave metal, you say? Never ventured the neon soaked alleyways and abandoned cities of the musical post-apocalypse? Well it's time you venture over to bandcamp and get ready to have your face melted clean off.

With sweeping orchestral symphonies, piercing guitar solos beckoning from the heavens, the chunky bass bombs of doom, and pounding tribal beats, this album will surely have you questioning your morals and feeling the urge to slay Lazer Raptors with Kung Fury after a few rounds of grain alcohol shots...blindfolded. And tripping sack on experimental LSD / DMT fusions. With a toothpick.

Is that 300 words? Is the article SEO optimized yet? FUCK. All right....

So imagine your girlfriend invites her hottest friend over, you know, the one you've always wanted to nail. You're all watching some stupid bullshit on Netflix on the couch together, when out of nowhere your girl turns to her friend and they start making out passionately. Your boner springs up with the force of a Thunder Gun express, ready to tear down these supple sugar walls like a torpedo fired from a space shuttle with technologies so powerful they're unknown to the general public and only a few key scientists are aware of their existence, two of said scientists already having been killed to silence them so that these torpedoes would not be used recklessly and shredding through teenage hymens like Andre the Giant ripping through a wet paper bag.

Get it yet? Synthwave. Dark Wave. New Retro Wave. Metal. Heavy Metal. Power Metal. Synth Metal. Metal Metal. Wood Metal. GO. LISTEN. TO. THE. FUCKING. ALBUM.

Sunday, May 17, 2015

Complete Nonsense (2)

Perpetually spiraling into the pits of madness and despair, the flames that once burn bright are now dim and dying. The air ripped from the lungs like a newborn babe from the breast of his mother. The weight of the world lifted off your shoulders, only to come crashing back down directly on your spine, leaving you twitching and bloodied in a muddy ditch, completely alone and isolated. No thoughts of redemption, no feelings of time to waste, only time to grow. Pushing forward cannot be achieved if one walks backwards, even if they're moving forward whilst walking backwards - the eyes are still set on the past. Each footstep towards the future should be taken with grace and calculation - shaky at first, frequent stumbling and tripping, eventually making way to sure-footed power walking that would make soccer moms nod with seasoned approval. Rambling incoherently with little thought, reason or rhyme, as if said incoherent rambling offers a glimpse into a healthier mindset, a way to heal, a path to move on. Illuminating the chasms of self-doubt in a blinding light of self-awareness, the aura blanketing the subconscious in a white hot energy that permeates every crack and crevice of the damaged mind. The soul, hungering for love, thirsting for recognition, will only benefit from solitude and self-reflection in these dire times. Shed the societal ties to servitude, shred the misconceptions of life and happiness and find happiness of your own. With each keystroke of melodramatic bullshit the soul is bled of it's negative energy, making room for positive energy and confidence to return. The mind's eye blinking sleepily, awoken from months of complacent slumber, vying to move forward. Should one crush the opposition, drive their enemies into the ground with a powerful burst of rage and despair, leaving them bloodied and dying? Or should one leave the opposition in the dust of their success? Never have I ever thought that forever was never, nor have I thought thoughts of forever in forever. Never have I ever dreamed of forever, forever have I dreamed of never. Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and hurt you. Never gonna make you cry, never gonna say goodbye. Never gonna tell a lie, or hurt you. FUCK YOU.

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Complete Nonsense

A stream of consciousness expressed in free-form, lyrical prose like a flurry of fevered notes on an electric guitar. Wailing, soaring, dipping, crushing, melting the faces of the reader and listener simultaneously, conveying the undeniably bittersweet passion of a scorned entity, a sheltered soul stumbling through the mist covered wilderness of a forsaken realm. Drowning in a bed of fire and burning in an ice-ridden abyss, perpetually perplexed by the putrid societal wreckage one must trip over for the duration of their conscious years.

Explosions of light and bursts of enlightenment getting shrouded in shadows, not perceivable to flawed pupils but interpreted only through the minds eye and the scarred heart; the torn, ripped, bleeding heart, circulating life force through ice cold veins, a force wrought with a searing, unrelenting agony perpetuated indefinitely from the center of a scarred soul. Charred remains of the distant past below, and the billowing, lightning filled clouds of an uncertain future above, rendering all those privy to the nonsense of the wordy slop simultaneously horrified and uplifted. The disgusting servitude of painful thoughts clashing with a burning optimism to right wrongs and calibrate self-defeating mindsets into an explosion of tortured creative energy.

Writing words to write words, or writing words to write words with a message arguably too absurd to understand and too vague to comprehend, verbs and nouns bouncing off the empty halls of a lonely mind set ablaze from the trials and tribulations of a world gone awry. Through the alleyways of misfortune and self-doubt one must trek, pushing forward with the perseverance to succeed despite the dog-eat-dog inferno of cultural waste all around. To scale the skyscrapers of success, ascending to new heights of personal triumph and leaving the ministers of manipulation far below on filthy, trash-filled streets. To abandon the mental weights burdening the justice and freedom of a fruitful existence, harvesting deep from the garden of artistic expression, yet toppling from the tops of skyscrapers back to the streets below. Wandering through the mists of the city, needing a ticket to an unknown destination, a ride to the next foot note of one's pointless existence, perhaps. Mind growing weary, feet growing tired, so....I whistled for a cab and when it came near the license plate said fresh and it had dice in the mirror. If anything I could say that this cab was rare but I thought "Nah, forget it...yo holmes, to Bel Air!" I pulled up to the house about 7 or 8 and I yelled to the cabbie "Yo holmes smell ya later!" I looked on my kingdom, I was finally there to sit on my throne as the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.

Monday, February 2, 2015

Sup Fuckers

Holy fuck, it's been ages since I've posted a single word on here. The last two posts were poorly paid freelance gigs. (Hey, get me hits on my website. Hey, review this shitty game for $2 on your blog.) But I've had a lot going on.

Album releases

scythe saga, synthwave