| *sigh* |
[Aug. 25th, 2006|08:16 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  rejected | ] |
What is it about women?
I just don't fucking get it.
Locked journal entries and a story that doesn't make sense.
Haven't I seen this once before...? |
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| Bear with me here... |
[Feb. 17th, 2006|01:43 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  contemplative | ] |
Organizing one's thoughts into a cohesive entry for other people to read is useless and irrelevant. It seems strange for someone to write down a string of words created to interest other readers. So bear with me as I commence to write what I feel like writing, my own art meant for me and supplied here for any one of my friends who wishes to understand what goes on through my skull.
A buddy of mine from Texas is engaged with downloading an insurmountable array of music, spanning from death to black metal, and he has been gracious enough to supply me with much of it. My computer playlist is a massive concoction of tons of bands, from Kataklysm to Immortal, from Abyssos to Cryptopsy. I'm in metal heaven. I'm also planning on showering my buddy, Andre, with a gigantic collection of metal for his upcoming birthday. I don't exactly know what's going on with his personal life, but his journal entries persuade me to believe that not all is right at the moment. So I thought it would be a nice gesture to add some happiness for him by giving him an amount of music that will keep him busy listening for a fucking decade.
I'm writing this entry past one o'clock. My girlfriend, Stacy, is passed out on the bed after a rather nice and inviting sexual session. Family Guy is on the television in the background, a cigarette is hanging from my lips, and thoughts are swimming through my head. I've just finished playing a pretty damn good video game called "Fatal Frame III: The Tormented." One of the side effects of playing a haunted house video game is that you stay up that night, not frightened, but thinking about the existence of ghosts. It doesn't make me feel less of a man to reveal to everyone that ghosts scare the living shit out of me. But as to what they are, I'm a little confused. Are they actual walking spirits conveying their living image to us mortal ones, or are they simply levels of energy that we can't detect that produces energy memory (physical image) in a certain important spot. Not that an answer will arrive any time soon, but the events of the Fatal Frame trilogy seem entirely plausible to me, which is probably why I find them so frightening.
I'm sure the reader is probably bored by now with this nonsense, but as I said, this is for me. If somebody really wants comedy, which I guess everyone associates with me, then revert from this site and navigate yourself to my own Myspace page at www.myspace.com/fairyshake. It's an issue I've never really thought about: none of my friends that I hang out with on a regular basis really want to spend time with me unless we're all planning on drinking, as if I am no fun unless alcohol is flowing through my veins and I'm mooning everyone in the room. Bryan in particular is a friend that never bothers to communicate with me unless there is a party going on - so he becomes a drinking buddy rather than a good friend. Stacy wants to spend every second she can with me - she loves me for who I am, silly or not - and it feels good. I just wish my friends were like that sometimes.
And, finally, this is for Stacy...
Shake the night from your wings
And cover my face with your second skin
I'd kill to know what lies inside
That sad emptiness
The cold lining of my throat
Knows no words or breath
To capture the pain and tear it asunder
To feel the warm winds on your glowing face
Is all I want
You are
My very skin
The flesh that covers my bones
Is yours
Every cut you inflict is felt
The blade, tipped with the jagged
Edge of sadness invades my heart
Though I may not feel it
Bring in the sun
Wade in the shores
Taste the sweet rain
Break this blade
Into slivers of nothing
Shake the night from your wings
And cover my face with your angelic beauty |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 5th, 2006|03:21 am] |
So my power went out last night due to the freakish wind storm. I actually thought it was pretty fun. I simply lighted some candles and read a book for a couple hours. It was kind of funny to go out on the porch (primarily to smoke a fag) and see a pitch dark street. It made me realize how much our lives depend on something so powerful and yet so fragile. Electricity can kill a person and yet leave us unable to do anything. No light, no heater, no TV, no video games, no movies, no hot water (or no water, period, for some), no microwave, no stove, no fridge, no computer, no nothing. Everything we can do within our homes in shut down. Kinda puts things into perspective on how fucking privileged we are in this country. Some countries' populations are killing each other for their next meal and here we sit, pissed off that we can't watch goddamn television. I love it.
Anyway, here I sit watching "Pi," a rather good movie, while my beautiful girlfriend snores on the futon. With not one drop of alcohol or drugs swimming through my veins, I concede to the notion that maybe Bree was right - Bree being a friend of mine (a friend I should hang out with more often) who, regarding the last entry, told me that I might have been placed in this time period for a reason. Religion does not control my life, I answer to no god, but I am spiritual and believe that we hold a close connection with nature. Bree left me a comment on Myspace and said that maybe I was placed here for a reason. And I am not being conceited but many of my friends have told me that I make them think, bring them back to earth, make them laugh. It feels good to know that I leave a positive, if somewhat goofy, impression on people. Too bad there are not more people out there like that. I have only a couple friends that really make me laugh: Bryan and Andre. Stacy makes me laugh as well but our humor is more for us alone than for the outside world and that make me love her even more. I don't know....it's just a good feeling. And it could be that it's almost 4:00 in the morning and I'm opening myself up more than I usually do, exposing the nerves under my skin and revealing a side most people don't see. Well, journals do that I guess. Who the hell is going to read this anyway besides Stacy?
To close this rather strange entry, I leave the reader with a few words - make of it what you will...
along with ash
all is quiet after the storm
mist clings to skin
exposing a brighter side
not seen by most
eyes are closed and heavy
and the wind tells all |
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| Where are we? |
[Jan. 30th, 2006|11:16 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  peaceful | ] |
It has come to this. I was born in the wrong century. It's a simple as that. Honestly, I don't feel like 1985 was my time to enter the world - I was supposed to be born much earlier. I care too much about things people don't notice in today's world, like the taste of air, the unspoken connection we have with our pets, the scent of nature. I actually notice these things and it seems like nobody else does. People are so fucking bent on the next invention to make our lives even more lazy while they talk about cars and drugs and when they'll be able to get that new tattoo and when their hair appointment is and how cool they think they are.
...Fuck that shit...
Nobody has real conversations anymore. Nobody ever takes the time to think about our history and much simpler everything used to be. There used to be honor and "laziness" was a word that was most likely not used much. And I take comfort in knowing that we won't be here forever. It feels good to know that the earth will be here long after we're all dead and gone. Yes, the earth will eventually heal itself (no matter how many centuries it takes) but we are too far into the future to reverse anything. We can't heal ourselves now. So let's all just buy the new iPod and the new cars and watch the next CSI clone and wait for that day because at the speed we're going, it won't be long.
Put that in your cock and suck it.......bitch. |
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