came home at four am to strange cat meowing at me. same cat from last night. cute. my mother is still awake and one of our cats was a victim of manslaughter. our dog broke its neck. i hated that cat, but i am severely fucking depressed over it. the strange cat has adopted us and is now inside the house.
i was going to leave monkee here but now i fear for his life. i'd take seismo, too, but he can take care of himself. he really can.
there is nothing worse on this miserable planet than a dead cat. nothing.
i hated the way he meowed ceaselessly at 2 am in this throaty meow like he had a spit bubble in his throat. his stomach felt like mayonaisse and his hair was falling out. his head was way too small for his large body and he was just as ugly as sin.
poor thing. i am sincerely going to miss him, and i feel bad for my mom, too.
on the bright side, the article in the oracle about lushforlife.com is proving to be a smashing success.
i have to learn that whenever there is good news, there will always, always be bad news, too.
damn, i'm depressed, but i'm hopeful about the future.
i'll miss you, andy.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
First
1
I was twenty-six when I realized that I was going nowhere. I am twenty-six, and I realize that I am going nowhere.
Growing up in a city like this, Tampa, is kind of like growing up a middle child for everyone here. Mediocrity is the standard, and to live outside of it can be bad business. The bums are spit upon and the tycoons are hissed at. Being perfectly average in every way will get you… nowhere.
I was never average in any way. I could start at the top and end up at up at the bottom and still never hit average in between. Lucky for me, average is not what I ever wanted to be.
2
How I got to this point is, you know how your mother told you to never do drugs? Well, listen to her. No matter the drug, be it huffing magic markers or smoking crack out of used medical glass in a condemned house in the scariest of ghettos, you should not do it. From the puff of the first joint, your life is forever changed. You have, at that point, become someone who is using drugs. Even if you never touch them again, if someone asks if you have ever done drugs, you cannot honestly tell them no, and the way they perceive you is changed.
My first was an innocent joint in an appropriately picturesque alleyway. Right then and there, my life would take a completely different direction. At the tender age of fourteen, I at once understood Pink Floyd, tie-dyed shirts, neon posters, primal hunger, and the basic principles of philosophy. Funny enough, I don’t recall actually getting stoned, but I doubt that would have mattered much. I could have been smoking a cat turd and the same revelations would have become apparent. The intention and acceptance is enough to fuck you up, right then and there.
The decision had been made a couple of weeks prior. See, the three years before, I had done pretty much nothing except grow my hair, learn guitar, smoke cigarettes, and listen to Nirvana. That was it. That was what I did and all I cared about. Matt and me would jam out some tunes in his small bedroom with no a/c, and those tunes were magical. They were three chord symphonies that I was sure would one day make me an icon for the damned, the teenagers of America.
That decision I made, you know, that decision to throw everything ever away (at least the first step of which), began because of a fucking rock star martyr. Worth it at the time, yeah, but in retrospect, how fucking dumb.
I was twenty-six when I realized that I was going nowhere. I am twenty-six, and I realize that I am going nowhere.
Growing up in a city like this, Tampa, is kind of like growing up a middle child for everyone here. Mediocrity is the standard, and to live outside of it can be bad business. The bums are spit upon and the tycoons are hissed at. Being perfectly average in every way will get you… nowhere.
I was never average in any way. I could start at the top and end up at up at the bottom and still never hit average in between. Lucky for me, average is not what I ever wanted to be.
2
How I got to this point is, you know how your mother told you to never do drugs? Well, listen to her. No matter the drug, be it huffing magic markers or smoking crack out of used medical glass in a condemned house in the scariest of ghettos, you should not do it. From the puff of the first joint, your life is forever changed. You have, at that point, become someone who is using drugs. Even if you never touch them again, if someone asks if you have ever done drugs, you cannot honestly tell them no, and the way they perceive you is changed.
My first was an innocent joint in an appropriately picturesque alleyway. Right then and there, my life would take a completely different direction. At the tender age of fourteen, I at once understood Pink Floyd, tie-dyed shirts, neon posters, primal hunger, and the basic principles of philosophy. Funny enough, I don’t recall actually getting stoned, but I doubt that would have mattered much. I could have been smoking a cat turd and the same revelations would have become apparent. The intention and acceptance is enough to fuck you up, right then and there.
The decision had been made a couple of weeks prior. See, the three years before, I had done pretty much nothing except grow my hair, learn guitar, smoke cigarettes, and listen to Nirvana. That was it. That was what I did and all I cared about. Matt and me would jam out some tunes in his small bedroom with no a/c, and those tunes were magical. They were three chord symphonies that I was sure would one day make me an icon for the damned, the teenagers of America.
That decision I made, you know, that decision to throw everything ever away (at least the first step of which), began because of a fucking rock star martyr. Worth it at the time, yeah, but in retrospect, how fucking dumb.
My Shit Don't Smell Like a Mission Statement
I am beginning to forget shit and quick. I am writing the very uninteresting but hopefull colorful story of all of me. Truths will be told, and boy will they hurt (mostly me, I'm sure). I am going to publish it here as I write. Revisions will come later, but I need a driving force to keep me on it every day. It will change in tone constantly until I find the voice it is going to be presented in. It will suck most of the time and not suck at other times. It will never be finished. I hope to learn about myself a bit more. This may take years, this may take months. I don't know how much I can pull out. It starts when I am fourteen, which is where I think things began to go sour. I will talk about my younger years later, I'm sure. The chronology is not important, nor are the numbers at the beginning of each section. I hope no one reads it. I hope everyone reads it.
P.S. The staff of LushForLife.com was interviewed today for the USF Oracle. We will be in the paper tomorrow. Read it.
P.S. The staff of LushForLife.com was interviewed today for the USF Oracle. We will be in the paper tomorrow. Read it.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
If I Understood That, We Wouldn't Be in this Situation, Now, Would We?
It is all finally falling apart. There are no extreme or even definite signs, but I see it happening. And a good bit of it is my fault.
At the same time, I think my insanity is becoming evident.
I am growing away from my friends, and they from me. I am stagnant, as are they, but they think that their faux-success is being built upon their pointless school careers. I am an idiot because I can’t follow the rules.
I don’t like any of them, and I mistrust all of them.
Every word out of my mouth is a lie.
I don’t even trust myself with my feelings, anymore.
Last night, a girl hit on me. I ignored her. She wasn’t my type. I have been sans women for five years and I ditched her. So sue me. Be true to yourself, eh? Being true to myself is, on instinct, denying any woman who is blind/stupid/insane/slutty enough to hit on me. I only want what I cannot have.
I cannot have that beautiful Cuban girl over there, or that perfectly exquisite woman who is set to marry that guy over there, and I cannot have that fantastical fantasy on the left coast. So that is what I want.
I think it all comes from a slut wife who cheats on you. I hope she’s fat, now.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
I Can Read Burroughs, but Not a Woman
Click! I know what it be. I need to be assaulted, or else I have no idea. None at all. Endlessly have I interpreted that for this and this for that. Subtle nuances and subtlety is not a game I play well. I need Miss "Letsfuck, stupid" to hang with. Otherwise, I am a dumb dumb fuck and that's all I ever be.
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