|Courtesy of my friend Shawn.
||[Jul. 8th, 2005|11:48 am]
Man, this post hit me something fierce. I hope y'all can get something out of it too.|
It's not me it's me.
Bored. Being off in the afternoon kinda sucks but going out later tonight. Two days off in a row elite, but gotta be at work at 5AM tomorrow, ugh. Now that I've had a couple days off I think I can handle the job it's really not so bad in some ways I have as much if not more free time then I had before. Not too much to do with it though since it's in the FUCKING afternoon when everyone I know is working in reality and even the gamers aren't around online. So I find myself idly downloading music, mostly some shit from the early 90's like the Helmet, yet more Rage, and the Cranberries. I think it's just the accent, chicks with Irish accent's are hot but Irish dudes always smell funny.. How very racist.
Racism, being politically correct, it's all nonsense. What it's really become is everyone has to tip-toe about everything they say and do, I don't know how to tip-toe. It's become all about faking it, all about pretending, all about face. I'm sure Live Journal has some kind of terms of service and I fully expect them to kill off my journal at some point, like I care.. I've always been one to say whatever I want because I can't pretend, I can't make believe, I can't be what society would want me to be or what anti-society expects me to be. No compromises, no kiddie gloves.. Today makes me sick, I don't need to go see Land of the Dead I'm living it.
It's hard to tell the difference sometimes, you want to believe so much that the person your talking to isn't a walking corpse, you want to believe that somewhere in some point in time they didn't reek with decay. Was there ever such a time for most of this swarm? this brood? Or have they all been taken too young by the mind snatchers.. They'll tell you so many stories, memories, people like to think their memories make them real, because they recall they exist. Did it ever occur that their oh so vivid memories are just there to add to the deception, to force a human touch to the dead? Can they break through the grave? Possible but unlikely they're usually just far too gone lost in their own hypocracy, lies, and attempts at fitting in somewhere. How do I know I'm not one of them? I think that would likely be my ability to avoid all the traps. You can't label me preppy, jock, goth, punk, emo, scene, skater, skinhead, shitface and the list goes on. Most people will deny the labels thrust upon them but they fit perfectly 99% of the time. And to these fakes, these zombies, I can only wish from the bottom of my heart that they can experience the fortune of drowning in a pool of their own urine. How very vulgar.
Some people hate to shift moods, I like it, going from frigid, to cold to warm to overheated, it's a rush it's real, it's uninhibited. Moments ago my head was freezing and anxious but now my entire body feels warm and relaxed and a great sense of relief eclipses the worries and doubts, arms I can't see curled around me in a protective embrace, I feel alive..
"The worst crime is faking it" - Kurt Cobain.
..Oh, all the promises we made
All the meaningless and empty words
I prayed, prayed, prayed
Oh, all the promises we broke
All the meaningless and empty words..
..What of all the things that you taught me
What of all the things that you’d say
What of all your prophetic preaching
You’re just throwing it all away
Maybe we should burn the house down
Have ourselves another fight
Leave the cobwebs in the closet
’cos tearing them out is just not right..
- Cranberries "Promises"