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May. 23rd, 2009 @ 05:15 pm I don't even fucking know, or care. I want to be an average fuckface loser asshole like everyone .
Current Location: somewhere black
Current Music: something black
Jumping to conclusions I have failed college.


I am in the process to find out how, why, and when this happened considering I was doing fairly well by all accounts, to which I do not believe I have tricked myself into believing I was doing well, when I was indeed not. I hold no skewed perceptions. Or at least try my hardest not to.

If this is so, then I must try to continue to pursue education somehow.

Other ideas include killing myself or moving to the wilderness to fight bears.

I feel I have no particular talent at art anymore, I have a certain idea no one cares what I have to say (obvious irony to some degree considering the format), and I feel genuinely horrible.

In my head somewhere, maybe imagined, the last 4 years of my life have been the most draining and exhausting time in my life, not to mention the most disillusioning, which I'm unsure of as a word.

whatever.

You as a child could have never dreamed of the horrible truths that exist. The truth will of course, set you free... or so it goes.

But the process is long and difficult. Almost to the point where it will break one's endurance. It is not a race, it is a battle of attrition. Survival. Hasn't that been the modus operandi the whole time?

Why didn't you just tell us that?

What good are lies?

"You grow up and be responsible (so the irresponsible people can float off your effort)."

"Tell the truth (so that others may lie, cheat, and steal)."

I decided how to conduct myself as a fucking person, and I see everyone else just shrugging it all off and doing fine. I have no excuse for what is happening to me. If I take the responsibility to myself, why doesn't anyone else? I can't keep accepting the responsibility for everyone.

I figure out my own problems

I am strong.


... and it gets me nowhere.


I feel like a boulder stuck in a stream. I want something to break me into pieces so I can join.
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Apr. 29th, 2009 @ 07:16 pm (no subject)
All I can say is, fuck mass media. Fuck it in it's stupid ass.
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Apr. 4th, 2009 @ 08:50 pm (no subject)
Take all the shit that gets you angry and throw it out the window.



It's going to lead you to kill someone.


If no one will listen, it's because ignorance is clogging their ears.

Stop being greedy for ignorance.

Stop loving to hate.

Find balance.

Do more for others.

Try to help.

Forget the petty insults.

Forget that you have a self.
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Dec. 10th, 2008 @ 01:54 pm Boners. Put them in your mouth.
This is an all points bulletin for BONERS. Be on the lookout for Boners in your area. If you find one, please, pop that son of a bitch in your mouth and start that shit up.

Repeat: if a Boner is found, no matter what stage of maturity, be it a full rager, a drooping danny, or merely a stiffy, pop that shit in your goddam mouth.













It's for the government.
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Aug. 20th, 2008 @ 03:56 pm Glancing introspection.
I am a relatively quiet person by nature, and highly, highly introspective. I'd like to think I have a grasp on most things, and most of the time I'm pretty sure I do.


But there has to be something wrong with my brain.

Not enough chemicals getting tossed around in there? Have I turned it off completely?

In truth, I can't say I allow myself to really feel anything. I always get the notion everything I do is in a disjointed and detached manner.

Was it my younger years? It is my job?

Is it just me?

I just can't help the feeling I'm on the outside, all the time.

I can't say the way I feel is entirely my fault, change is hard, and chaging something so deeply engrained in my personality is entirely too difficult for me to shift on my own. I feel as though I am edged on a precipice on a constant basis. Genius? Insanity?

As I struggle to figure out just what is "wrong" I don't know if I'll ever figure it out. If it's chemicals, its purely chemical and I have to stop listening to what people say, but what really puts a smile on my face?
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Aug. 7th, 2008 @ 03:54 pm (no subject)
Current Mood: kill everyone
I have job, I make money, the money goes to bills, the money goes to food, the money is either saved or spent, or saved then spent, either way it just keeps coming as long as I have a job. The position I work in is troublesome, at times awkward, and in general I'm totally unexperienced in with 90% of the responsibilities I'm given, yet somehow succeed. I want to get out of this position but have since realized the necessity for money. I can never find my "boss", one of the 5 or 6 of them who "really matter" so I can explain to him the situation I'm embroiled in.

Embroiled?

... Makes sense to me.


I am starting school, and this job (probably like all shit jobs in existence, so this may be futile) is emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausting and I'd like to find another role to fill. Perhaps one more... uh, singleminded in approach (Read: filling shelves full of canned soups, etc.) and perhaps just a little less demanding of my entirety.

Which brings me to the items I've been pondering. Like, there have been some recent store openings which are damaging our labor budgets, which, infringe on our (my) ability to move around to another department. Secondly(?), I've been getting dicked around with by the leaders of at least 2 other departments. Given false answers and the like, lies, essentially. To my face. It's irksome, because at least you, a "leader" be it self professed or gained by repetative brown-nosing, whatever, should have the spheres to talk to me about why you don't feel as though I would work well in that area, if that is, in fact, the problem #1. I'm pondering these things because as the deadline approaches for school to start and my options become more and more slim, I cannot find or talk to, the one person who could actually make use of this position of "power" and help me take action with the problems I seem to be encountering during this transitional period of cutting mindless drone work and inactivity down and going back to school so I won't ever have to sweep oatmeal again. But when your boss takes a month vacation, and then doesn't seem to ever be at work, leaving you with one big problem (in my eyes) and a bunch of idiots, it seems to me that the boss should get his neck snapped for being an asshole and making himself nearly unapproachable to the "lower" members of the store's staff.
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Jul. 8th, 2008 @ 11:37 am There Is Blood All Over My Face (it's not that I can't see, but it's annoying)
Argh.
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Jun. 7th, 2008 @ 06:32 pm Mr. Orchard sings a sad song about waffles.
So...


Yep...


Boy(girl?), am I tired!


I really don't use this thing anymore.



Ok, well this was fun, but I've got to go now.


P.S.
I really want super powers. I swear I'd use them for good... like once and awhile...
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Apr. 7th, 2008 @ 10:05 am This is what I do in my spare time.
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Feb. 5th, 2008 @ 08:44 am This is ludicrous.
Current Music: Yo Gabba Gabba
Why are most of these posts about stupid shit??



You should wake up to the smaller beauties of life, the pattern of frost, the feel of a breeze, the subtle art in the everyday. I'm feeling great.
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Dec. 22nd, 2007 @ 02:48 pm The Answer.
"Keith draws a pretty mean Hamburgler..."

-From "The Best McDonalds ever (or some shit)" on Travel Channel


So it's nice to have people who believe in you and champion your cause.

I'm not sure why.

I'm sure there are folks who are way better at what I do than myself.

I guess I can't wrap my head around why anyone would like to help me.

But I accept and appreciate it.

"DaemonarcH" practice went awesome, our first song is 26 seconds. Powerviolence is pretty sweet. I don't get to fly into a rage that often for a reason. Next practice we're recording so someone should be prepared to have their ears blown off to a song about eating butter and dying of heart failure.


It's a nice little aside, since I realized at some point that I literally cannot stop making music in some form or another. I've been writing songs both hip-hop and powerviolence almost nonstop, as it is the only way I can cope with the horrors of life.

I want to do more shows!

Shows
Shows
Shows
Shows


Not for scrill, but for chill.

Pretty much if I have free time, I'd rather be puttin' it down in the studio than like, doing much else.

I have so many things that I'd like to roll out, I can't wait to get on it.
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Dec. 13th, 2007 @ 09:28 pm Shot through the heart.
Hey fellas.

Fellettes.


(fillets?)

I'm doing fine. Generally.

A lot on the stove right now, just simmering...

You know, cookin' up those schemes and dreams to get those dollars.

All of them.

Hopefully at once in a large lump sum.

Attention any nerds who can make clothes, I need a Skeletor costume, minus the cowl. Remember, the briefs have to be trimmed in fur around all the exits. Generously.

I felt super helpful today, as I taught a woman how to prepare spring rolls, and I found an important piece of stationary for a larger gentleman. He goes to church a lot. I also worked to enhance and enrich the lives of those around me with gentle song and comedy. For, you can fill the horrible silence of depression with the sound of laughter.

I learned that people who have sex (...ladies?) up to four times a week can look an astounding SEVEN TO TEN YEARS YOUNGER THAN THEIR ACTUAL AGE(!!!)

Also, if your man of the moment (or moments depending on how you view monogamy) can get you to orgasm, your ever present headache you brought up before he asked if you wanted to commit to intercourse will go away.

Endorphins. Hot.

There was something else in this series of facts about how great sex is that pretty much said "sex is good". I mean, it can't get much more succinct than that.

So if you have a headache girls, fuck 'em. Literally.

Not. Even. A. Problem.

...anymore.

I hope no one is annoyed with the way I'm typing this all down. I refuse to conform to the spacial restrictions of a paragraph.

Think of this as a monologue.


It's supposed to be read slowly, drawling almost to the point where you don't close your mouth so you drool on yourself (kinda, but I figure you're all distinguished enough to keep yourselves from doing that, just out of common sense).





Also, I'd like to note, I'm still not insane.

I love you guys, even though I say I hate you, and it's probably true (you know who you are, nixon) I still love you.


But don't fucking touch me, or breathe on me if you're sick, thats gross and rude.


Also, it would be funny if the movie "Office Space" was more like a teen college romp where the three guys just tried to "spice up the workplace" by horking off the boss so bad he quits... you know, cause like, there's totally another hot girl boss or some type of garbage. Like, having the guy in the office who constantly is sick ("sick Ronald" cause "loud howard" is taken... fucking Dilbert) sneeze on all the TPS reports to make Lumberg sick or something.


I'd buy that for a dollar.



I'd laugh.


Leave your thoughs, comments, concerns at the beep.
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Dec. 1st, 2007 @ 11:53 pm Bloo bloo bloo bloo
Current Mood: hopeful
Current Music: Asthmatic Mcs: CLONES
Wrestling is not fake!
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Dec. 1st, 2007 @ 08:50 pm Lesson 1
"Gravitator"

A gravitator is a subcategory of the classifcation of "claimer".

Whereas a Clamimer is a liar who goes around telling straight lies so rotten you can see his fuckin' teeth falling out, a Gravitator is someone who has no skills, no ambition, and really is in no way connected in a meaningful way with a certain group of people, cause, or style. They have not immersed themselves in the culture that they claim to be in. This is the distinctive difference between the Claimers and the Gravitators.

A Claimer will walk up to you and tell you he bought the hottest pair of Nike Dunks, and you'll never see that motherfucker with those things ever, no matter how many times he brings it up. He might talk about them, even have an elaborate story concerning the shoes, but the truth is, that asshole never even came close to those shits, and is a straight fuckin' liar.

In my life I have met many a Claimer.

A Gravitator will actually maybe have the dunks, and will show them off, but he really does this because of several reasons:

1.) He wants you to think he's got his game up. He thinks he's a real hip cat for owning this pair of hot kicks. You know what? He might have his game up, if he even knew what part of the game he was playing. He's trying for respect, but you know he's going to be wearing those shits in a club, or outside, and fuck up those nice shoes of his, the real truth is, he doesn't know jack shit about fucking sneakers, he just heard you talking about what you thought was cool, and he wants other people to think he knows whats up. A faker, a posuer. Imposter-jive-shit-$2 bitchslap waiting to happen.

2.) Attention. Yeah... those Dunks sure are hot, but you know... Nike just released a limited edition colorway with only 300 units available. Now what? You spent 150 hard earned dollars on those things, only to have your steez nullified in an instant by something hotter. It's how the game works my son, once again, don't try to impress me, because I don't give a fuck. Your sneakers are hot, his sneakers are hot. Just buy what you like dude, wear em when the time's right. Shit, I bought some Dunks 6 years ago and wore them to school once. NOW WHAT?! Those shits are all over the place in pop culture. The truth is, I always knew high tops were bomb just like all the other sneakerheads knew since the fuckin' sneaker was invented. I got there before you, different time, but now whats up>? Beat you to the punch, sure I by no means beat the rush, but at least I'm not a fuckin' whack shit gravitator. I OWNED that shit, before you even got the impression they were hot.*

*(this essentially means that; high tops in the general... well, fact is everyone wore high tops, that was like, the first sneaker pretty much. High Tops, had to be, looks like a gay cowboy boot, made of that new rubber stuff and canvas. Converse, Chucks, Nike's hightops, Adidas, I appologize if I'm not getting my facts right here, but what I'm saying is that the shoe itself is a common article made popular by the culture from which it was spawned, a human idea. An inatimate object. It now belongs to popular culture, which means it can become a trend among the populace of the planet Earth. Jeez, that was long winded. existence = humans = trends. Simple? I'm not saying that I started the fuckin' trend.)



What I'm getting at is not that you shouldn't buy this or that shoe, or even anything close. It was purely example. What I'm saying is that just because you're sitting around the corner and you hear about what's hot and what's not, don't go jumping into that. Shit's whack. That makes you a gravitator. Live your life how you wanna, don't just do something because you hear it's the hotness. Fuck the hotness, I'd rather be ice fucking cold than be a gravitator, and yes, we do all fall victim to the trends sometimes, advertising is a powerful tool, but the real shit is is that you should only really do it if you believe in it, or can in some way make the "trend" your own. I mean... I had a fuckin' Tamogachi. I believed in that.

For real.

Believe in yourself, your actions, your words. Choose that shit carefully.
Be wary of those who claim too much. Investigate that shit if you have to. Uproot Claimers where ever they may be. Tell the truth.
Be your fuckin' self. It doesn't matter, if people don't dig your style tell em you got a rod they can check.
After you attain these principals... you're golden. Uttmost belief in one's self. Don't fuck around on that. If you truly, utterly beleive in the trend, take it, but if you're doing something just to fit in, fuck you, man. Don't even try.


The whole point is don't be fake, and know in your heart that you're gold.**




**(Also, the counterpoint to this is that human beings are just sheep and that we don't really have free will, and are just pulled along by streams of new ideas generated from only a handful of people amongst them who lead.... The leaders, I guess it doesn't matter. It's just random occurences, Chaos Theory, I guess. Lol sorry, I just really thought this through here, because I'm trying to explain a conceptual theory here. I had to do some edits. Nothing changed from the original, just additions by asterix(sp??))








0,-d
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Dec. 1st, 2007 @ 07:36 pm Snowflakes, candyland
Current Music: Candyland: Milk tastes better drank from the skulls of children
Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket


Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket


So this is only the cafe but I didn't want to be a boner and walk up and down the front end area cutting between registers flashing pics at and above cutomers heads. They probably wouldn't like that. The pics are real shitty because the lighting is terrible, it's a supermarket. Boo. It's a lot cooler in person.
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Nov. 30th, 2007 @ 03:02 pm I'm not dead yet.
Theres a lot I'm doing.


Oh, I should've taken a picture.

I spent nine hours on a ladder hanging snowflakes individually on fishing twine at my whole foods.

If you know how to get the the whole foods market in Willowbrook, you should come check it out.

Or, you can wait and see if I'll remember to take and post pictures of my work.


They'll be up for awhile I hopes.


In other news, I'm constantly busy, I have no christmas list, because everything I "want" is hard to find, and I trust none of you to go the lengths at which need to be traversed in order to obtain them.

Sorry guys...

Also, they're expensive sometimes.


Uhhhh.... in other news...


I got none.

ASTHMATIC MCS SHOW ON DECEMBER 15th 2007 AT THE LINCOLN CENTER IN DOWNERS GROVE (off of Main St. whatever the street after 55th is going north... I give bad directions.)


There's more info somewhere, but if you want to go, just call me.
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Oct. 14th, 2007 @ 10:15 pm Note to self, everyone wants you. Step lightly.
Everyone lets imagine a desert, and you all have to know by now that these kinds of places are dry.

Right?

Everyone got it? Deserts are...?


Dry!

...exactly.

Moving on, if you people could imagine up for me say... an ocean. Imagine the biggest amount of water you possibly could, and then, drop it on the desert.

If you did it properly, you just dropped an ocean on a desert.




Now, pardon my dumb shit introduction, but that's how I feel, for my whole life, I have had very little attention given to me.

Now, I can't go anywhere without people wanting to lay me out and perform sexual congress with me.

Now...


...

ugh...


...

This will sound dumb, and I know it does, but since I'm not used to it, how... exactly, does a person deal with that?


I'm not complaining,no no no, not by any means. 'Cause I really like it. Makes me feel good inside, all gushy. (not like that...)

But uh, what?


It's making my head hurt.


Thank you for your time.
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Oct. 11th, 2007 @ 11:04 pm No long years, now
Life's been a whirlwind.

www.klickingandscreaming.com "Tales of Colt 45 party" check for pics of me in there. Trust me, it's not hard to spot me.

There's also a few of me at the Matt and Kim show a little while ago.

Bars? Parties? Clubs? Shows?

ridiculous.



Underlying a feeling of sadness, I want to start a band.
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Oct. 7th, 2007 @ 11:15 pm Put me to rest. For the love of pete.
Someone needs to come over here and take me out.

Take your pick.

Do your worst.
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Sep. 28th, 2007 @ 06:16 pm For Fuck's Sake...
Please stop asking me what I'm dressing up as for Halloween.


If I was going to dress up, I would've spoken up by now, I would've probably had the idea floating in my head for QUITE some time now, even. I'm sure it would be fucking legendary, kids. A really fun, left-field idea, or sometime so terribly cliche that it actually is cool to the people that get that kind of irreverence.

But since I haven't said anything, and I keep remarking about how much I hate Halloween shit, stop fucking asking me.

Give it a rest.

I don't get a kick out of shit popping out from the middle of nowhere and yelling at me. I don't like scary movies (aside from some monsters and zombie flicks) and I don't like trick-or-treating. I don't even like the general mischief that is handled on said occasion. "Trick-or-Fuck-Off". Go to hell. I don't want anyone else's candy, I don't care if it is free. I'm not going to watch Halloween (well, actually, I might) and I'm not going to deface anyone's property. I will abhore (fuck if I got that right) every single second until the stroke of midnight on October 31st. Even at that point, then, I will have to hear the stories.


This pumpkin beer tastes like shit.

I feel exhausted.

Someone send me home.

I want to go home.
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