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You are not what you'll become. You aren't how you'll end up. With open holes growing exponentially into my head. Until we fall, so we don't die alone. Construct to collapse. Collapse to construct.
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I'm not sure how well you can judge music at 4:30 in the morning, but apparently it does hold an effect on you. Driving to work one morning, Against the Wind came over the radio, a song I usually turn up, not blasting loud, but enough to jam out to.
At 4 in the morning, this may be the most depressing song I have ever heard.
Even as I listen to it right now, it seems more depressing. It's basically telling me, life's a bitch, it gonna be a bitch for awhile, and you're gonna die.
Oh my goodness.
Someone once told me, the Black Crowes are the best band nobody listens to.
Whats that supposed to mean? Apparently someone listens to them, but not many, because apparently they also suck.
My parents come back up in July, that should be fun, I miss them so much. My father used to tell me, time flies when you get older, and thats no joke jack.
Someday Lady, you'll accompany me.
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Thursday, January 4th, 2007
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I find myself straying more and more from what I have previously been. My life is good, perhaps this is the final transition from whatever I was to adult.
I didn't feel like a teenager, and I'm also 22, so Im well out of my teens. What comes between teens and adulthood? I don't think their is a defined word to describe it, but whatever it is, I believe it has come to pass.
I think it is funny how people say money is not important to them. Bullshit, money is the 2nd most important thing in my life, I need it, in order to keep the sequential things of importance, such as a house, a car, a wife, not so much to keep the wife, she's with me better or for worse so they say, but to give her the things I want to give.
So if you say money is not important, you're a fucking liar. In my opinion.
I bought a country album recently, and I know it's the most insane thing I've ever done.
Nevermind, I did not buy it, but I was gifted it, though now looking back, if I had known it would be as good as it was, I would have bought it. I think I'm just rolling through genre's because they seem to get old so quick. I bought a STYX cd, and listened to it about 3 times, and now I'm pretty much tired of STYX. At least Journey held out a little longer.
I'm still listening to the 70's music, it just seems to have so much more variety than today's music. My apologies to the White Stripes and the Yea Yea Yeahs. Each of you can get fucked. I fail to see how people derive meaning from their music, they are probably the same people who think the Death of Nirvana's lead singer actually holds some sort of fucking meaning. I mean aside from showing he was some unpleaseable douchebag. What sort of man has all this, then kills himself? Way to go. I give more credit to the investor who plummets from a Skyrise when his stocks bottom out, than to you.
Nirvana had about as much talent as Dexy's Midnight Runners, and the lead singers may have well been the same person.
I could choke the life out of you.
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Thursday, June 15th, 2006
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Maybe its just me, but VH1 seems a hell of a lot more metal than MTV.
Oh and dude, if there's something wrong with a 24 pack of pop, don't drink 12 of them you asshat.
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Saturday, December 3rd, 2005
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Soul Train is a very uneccassary transit authority.
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Saturday, September 10th, 2005
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Latest tattoos.
They would be the skulls.
The 13 is old.
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| Time: | 2:58 pm. |
| Music: | Showdown - Chorus of Obliteration. |
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So last night, I embarked on an adventure that some would call, very un-necessary, and others would say, must be done.
I visited, the Ikea of Woodfield.
Now, some may ask, what the fuck is that?
Allow me to enlighten you as to what Ikea is.
Imagine that every single Starbucks did not sell coffee, but sold home goods, beds, shelves, etc...
And they took every starbucks in existance, and slammed it into one fucking building.
3 massive stories of pure household items.
Holy fuck.
Needless to say, it was fun.
I bought a bookcase and 2 nightstands, and some lights.
7 more days.
6 1/2 to be exact.
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Tuesday, August 2nd, 2005
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I do not understand traffic.
They have this thing, as in most places, called Rush Hour.
No, not the humorous movie with the black man and a bruce lee wanna-be.
But an actual hour of "rush" where nobody gets anywhere at all.
Whoever dubbed it "rush" hour should be severly rug burned.
Granted, everyone is in this so called rush, to get home because we've all gotten off work, yet, the name rush hour seems so unfulfilling. You could use something more clever like, sit and say fuck hour.
Everytime I get stuck in traffic. Which occurs daily, I think, it sure would be nice if everyone came to a mutual agreement to drive at a certain time.
Because you know there is going to be a lot of traffic, don't drive, you'll only contribute to the clusterfuck. And you would think people would realise this!
But here is the kink in my master plan.
If my ideas suit true, perhaps everyone else is thinking the same thing.
Which would classify us as selfish assholes who want to drive down the road alone without another fucking car for miles.
But alas, the time I spend in the car on the way home, is much like watching Television. Something comical always occur, and it has that Seinfeld approach to it, because nothing in existence, between 3:30pm, and 6:30 pm, during traffic, has any point at all.
Which is another quarrel I have, why call it rush hour, when it is three fucking hours!
But I am grateful for the comedic relief it provides.
Or shoot up heroin.
Or lie on livejournal about how I shoot up heroin.
Back to the point.
If people simply cut out 1/4 of their milk consumption by adding 1/4 water to their normal bowl of cereal. Our cows would be considerably more happy, and you can't even taste the water.
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Wednesday, July 27th, 2005
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I've started to read my second Charles Klosterman book.
I'm beginning to think I'm addicted to pop-culture criticism.
This entire book seems like pure hatred for 90% of todays modern reality.
Which is somewhat audacious of myself to even speak about it.
I hate 90% of reality television, but somehow I'm subconsciously attracted to its criticism.
Though despite his appreciation of the entire Real World Series, I still stand by my beliefs the show is a waste of existance.
Which rises another point concerning the Sims.
Why am I, along with so many others so hopelessly drawn to this video game?
I no longer play it, but my pseudo nostalgia for what I have done merely over a year ago, is driving me insane.
Why the fuck would I buy a video, simply to virtually re-create why I did in real-life.
Except, in this virtual reality, SimMike has to think about this shit non-stop.
Meanwhile in reality reality, its all subconsciously done, because I know I have to do this shit, but SimMike doesn't learn it. He's virtually retarded, along with virtually materialistic because the only shit that makes him not depressed is more expensive shit.
As Klosterman put it, I don't sleep on a bed, I sleep on a sleeping machine, manufactured in the corner of my room. I see no point in buying a bed that is only going to be slept on, so I created this huge cushion in my corner. But not SimChuck, until he got his one thousand dollar Napoleon Post bed, all he did was cry like a bitch.
He also delves into the Sims conversation, claiming all they ever talking about is money and sailboats. And you can so easily have the option to tickle someone, when in reality, its not the brightest thing to do, but I suppose in virtual civilazation, tickles are the rage.
Another topic I can't get off my head, well, for the past 15-20 minutes, is my own self-constructed, subconscious, soundtrack.
When you go on a road trip, you bring music, and when you drive fast, you listen to heavy shit.
You can do 90 mph to the Norma Jean, or for those hipsters, Metallica.
But doing 90mph while Ben Folds lights up the piano throughout Landed, just seems ludicris.
No pun intended between Norma Jean and ludicriss. (I.e. spelling is not Lutikriss.)
So what could I subconsciously play to my entire life. Only I can hear, but doesn't completely distract me, because multi-tasking is very much out of the question.
I'd like something hard for working, soft and mellow for sleeping. Somewhat upbeat for walking, unless that walking was walking up to a funeral (then something sad) or a wedding (something happy) or to kick someone's ass (revert back to working music.)
I think that would be cool.
If I could invent PREmodernism.
Thats an invention that will be modern within the next 500 years. Give or take a couple centuries.
I'm also pondering writing my own novel. Nothing cynical or depressing, but probably a replica of my own mind, except organizated and put into text, something like this, but with a greater purpose.
Can you actually call yourself cynical?
I doubt this is true.
True cynics wouldn't give themselves that much praise.
Fuck them.
My knees hurt from being in a crawlspace all day.
And by god, I'm happy as a clam.
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I can remember being alone.
That was a horrible feeling.
I'm not quite sure how I made it out alive.
It's something that doesn't make you depressed at the time, more-so angered.
But later you feel regret of it.
Like you deserved it.
You did something wrong earlier, and that was punishment.
I'm reading a book called Killing Yourself to Live, by a writer from Spin Magazine.
He has a very good description of how our world could be considered purgatory, so it's been deemed.
It runs along the lines of, this is the after life.
Those who live long, would be because they did something very bad in a previous life.
While an infant that dies from SIDS, was probably the closest thing to a Saint in his previous life.
So therefore the infant bypasses our world of purgatory.
He also describes how Sid Vicious was hardly considered a musician, but can be considered the posterchild for the punk rock music scene, because he had no idea what he was doing with a bass guitar, infact, was horrible with a bass guitar, but made it look good.
That makes me laugh.
He also discussed in his book, which beatles song he would like to commit suicide to.
I had always thought about what song I would like played at my funeral, but never what song at my suicide.
I don't listen to the Beatles much, I suppose that means I'm less musically inclined to have an opinion.
He said the song he loved the most, was probably not long enough to bleed to death to.
I vividly remember a hot night at Zach Woods house where the radio played Hey Jude for around 9 hours straight through. And not the whole Hey Jude, just the part that gets stuck in your head for milleniums.
I think you could bleed to death in 9 hours.
Hell, you could do a lot of things in 9 hours.
Like go to Olive Garden.
I swear this book has implanted so many inside jokes in me, its disgusting.
IS it possible to have inside jokes between yourself and a book?
Or are all jokes from books inside jokes?
Because they're inside the pages?
I think there is a Zao show coming up within the next few days, I may go there.
I may be at a new company as of this afternoon.
Despite this monotone journal entry, can text be monotone?
I suppose if I intended it to be read in a monotone voice it can be.
(This entry is intended to be read in a monotone voice.)
I am truly and completely happy that my life is the way it is.
Compared to what it was almost a year ago.
Thank you Chuck.
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Wednesday, June 22nd, 2005
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You know.
I love this feeling.
I think its accomplishment.
I almost have everything I've ever wanted in life.
A job, which pays me well.
A new car, completely paid off.
A motorcycle, completely paid off.
It was almost a year ago, when I was completely broke, and utterly depressed. And now, I'm everything I dreamed to be.
I'm moving into my own place shortly.
I'm in the Union.
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The Orchestra and Me.
And there it was, the silence I had always subconsciously feared. Like a thousand deaf men, singing the anthem of the inaudible.
The skies pass over, like the color of the most catastropic fire, as the walls of the world crumbled down upon me. Gasping for some sort of air, reaching for some form of help, only to be destroyed further and further.
The sand blows over this rubble, no color to it, only desribed as massacre.
The air is stale.
There is no sound, only the chorus. No screams, no death, no blood, nothing. Just the orchestra and me.
My hands go raw from fighting this war. The blood runs thicker than the water that we lack.
There is nothing left to fight for anymore. So why do we fight. Why am I the only left? Why was I left to survive? I fought this war to find a comfort I could not grant myself, the comfort found in eternity. Now there is nobody left to grant me this passage to comfort.
This is my hell I presume, listening to this melodic brutality, that the performer can not even understand.
And this is how I will die, alone, surrounded by the death and despair caused by the hands of this army, this war, this battle I fought for.
My eyes are parched, yet they will not blink. Never will I miss a second of this scene of annihilation.
Forget purpose, and reason. Forget heresy, and its bringers.
Forget the cowboy.
Forget the priest.
Forget the Knight.
Forget what was once a Kingdom.
Forget the religion.
Remember the faith.
Cry at the destruction.
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Wednesday, March 2nd, 2005
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| Time: | 11:18 am. |
| Music: | And If I Perish - The Battle Rages In My Mind. |
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3/09/2005 Chicago, IL Aragon Ballroom
My Chemical Romance, Killswitch Engage, Senses Fail, Underoath, A Static Lullaby, and The Used.
I could give a flying fuck about most of these bands, but Underoath and Killswitch together.
Who's comin with me!
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Sunday, February 27th, 2005
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Just saw a picture of Crysta and that depressed the hell out of me.
Florida is gonna be so rad.
You know, life hasn't been all that bad recently.
I've got an oppuratunity for a new job, and my test is on Tuesday.
I *may* have a job as a teacher at Morton College, if I want it.
Go figure, drop out of college, then teach at one. That makes perfect sense. Though I sincerely doubt Ill do it.
I have given myself the oppuratunity to become more social by going to more places, and even volunterring as a bouncer at a concert hall. And despite what I thought, its stressful to deal with punks. I can't remember when I was like at 16-17 goin to concerts, probably worse.
I'm a bit closed off about this, but I'm feeling like I need to express it.
The first couple months were pretty rough, and I let it show a good bit. But the majority of the time I was alone. I was trying to get stoned, and drunk. I succeeded at getting drunk a lot, but didn't have too much luck with getting stoned.
I remember in Florida, people used to say I drink a lot, and I thought it was funny. Till I found myself not talking to my parents, or hardly anyone. All because I was drunk so much, and so negative, and a lot of things. And god damn it I'm sorry for that.
I actually talk to my parents now, and Im sober, despite my thoughts of not quitting.
So yeah, I had a pretty big problem with it, and I'm still fighting the urges, which is why I try to keep myself in some sort of sober state of mind, luckily I have help with that.
--
It's understandable for you to hate me, especially if I hate myself.
Walk on by, walk on by me.
The sidewalk is so brutally cold, I can't imagine what it would be like to sleep on it.
Walk on by, walk on by me.
My knuckles are bloody and bruised, but the wall remains the same.
Walk on by, walk on by me.
It was you that did this to me, how can you live with yourself?
Walk on by, walk on by me.
These are the chains, binding that realization, holding it down beneath me, where I'll never look.
Walk on by, walk on by me.
Its understandble for you to hate me, I broke the face of an angel, and there is nothing to put those pieces back together.
Walk on by, walk on by, walk over me.
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Tuesday, February 22nd, 2005
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I gotta be doin something wrong in my life.
Why the fuck can't I get in a serious relationship.
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Friday, January 28th, 2005
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So boredom set in again tonight.
Though I used this free time of mine to go and get my 6th tattoo.
I pondered getting my neck done, but I'm so close to entering the union, I was afraid that it may affect the outcome of my interview.
So I added yet another to my arm.
Now, that makes 4 on my left arm, the thorns, a shamrock, the W, and now, just below my elbow crease, I have a green and yellow shaded skull and crossbones (to match the other tattoos) adorning the irish fedora with a shamrock in it.
I'm very psyched about its outcome.
I think its a fine addition to my work in progress of an arm.
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Thursday, January 27th, 2005
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I didn't have to use my AK.
Today was a good day in South Central, L.A.
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Saturday, January 22nd, 2005
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It's snowing out. Its fun to drive. I'm sitting in my house, sort of hungry, very bored, watching lame cable movies, but its ok. I'm good today. I can fly today. I could die today.
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Thursday, January 20th, 2005
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School isn't as intimidating as I remember it. Maybe its because I actually understand and have use for what I'm about to learn.
I've got an hour till class.
And get this, the class doesn't even have a book, how fucking far out is that.
You see, this is because real men take heating and air conditioning classes, and real men don't need books.
Someone great put those two and two together.
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Wednesday, January 19th, 2005
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FIRSTS:
1. First best friend: Matt Crocker
2. First person you loved: Mom
3. First real kiss: Heh, pretty sad, I've kissed two girls, and the first, I don't even remember her name, some girl from Colorado I met at an after-show party.
4. First screen name: Orange_Taxi
5. First pet: Waldo
6. First car: 1991 Ford Thunderbird
LASTS:
1. Last cigarette: 5 minutes ago
2. Last kiss: Can't remember, August maybe
3. Last good cry: May or June, when my dog died.
4. Last beverage drank: Dewski
5. Last food consumed: Patty Melt
6. Last crush: Heh, Last, I don't even know the most recent
7. Last phone call: Kevin
RELATIONSHIPS:
1. Who is your best friend: A pack of cigarettes
2. Do you have a girlfriend/boyfriend: Nada
FASHION STUFF:
1. Where are your favorite places to shop: Can't remember the last time I shopped, I like the Hat Store though
2. Favorite item of clothing: My Levi's
SPECIFICS
1. Do you do drugs: Not anymore
2. What kind of shampoo do you use: American Crew
3. What are you most scared of: I don't have anything left to fear.
4. What would you change about yourself: Negativity
FAVORITES:
1. Colors: Red
2. Foods: Fries
3. Subject in school: Politcal Science
4. Animals: Golden Retrievers
5. Sports: Skateboarding
6. Movie: Et. Sun.
HAVE YOU EVER:
1. Given anyone a bath: Nope
2. Smoked: Yup
3. Made yourself throw-up: Yup
4. Skinny dipped: Possibly
5. Been in love: No
CURRENT:
1. Clothes: Levi's, Ski Cap, Boots, Long Johns, Eddie Bauer Sweater, Flannel, socks
2. Music: System of a Down - Cigarro
3. Make-up: Nope
4. IMs: Ha.
LAST PERSON:
2. Hugged: No Clue
3. IMed: Couldn't tell you.
4. Last person who slept at your house: Sean Collins when we got piss drunk at the going away party.
5. Last persons house you slept at: No idea.
RANDOM:
1. In the morning I am: Groggy
2. Love is: Immaculate
3. I dream about: Haven't dreamt in awhile, last dream was a hurricane, considered a bad omen as per the Dream Guide.
4. 7 years ago: Moved to Tampa
5. 4 years ago: Went to a face to face/snapcase/dashboard show, my year highlight.
6. 2 years ago: Started college, smoked a lot of pot.
7. 1 hour ago: Sat at Engler bullshitting about black people, with a black guy,
8. Tomorrow: Work, and School at 6pm
9. College: Past tense.
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lifeinabullet's journal