it is heavy as it seems

breathe in

its official. its always been official. there is some sort of fascination in the brilliance of dimness, some sort of fixation with unattainable youth.

i saw my future, my past and my present in a living room watching reba today.

my future slept underneath me, wanting to be held and pushing away everything that wanted to hold him, locking one out with his words, the other behind doors and body pillows.

my past sat next to me, his lips and eyes and his dull wit screaming at me, reminding me of who i am, whatever i have become. it screamed why.

my present just screamed, slammed doors, and begged for just something more.

yes clyde. it is as heavy as it seems.

breathe out

no teenage flinch

nebulize

tori - siren

heart on my sleeve.... fido on my collar

breathe in

one of the best concepts in the gluttonous yet so deliciously disgusting world of television right now can be summed up in one word.

bullshit!

penn and teller are now on season five of their cable series that examines and exposes common misconceptions and all out ignorance in regards to subjects ranging from modern academics to the occult. in terms even a president could understand, they examine the ways in which cultural norms and our current moral paradigm have limited, and ultimately stifled, our ability to perceive certain issues logically and objectively.

one of their best examples, and one that personally reaffirmed things that i had always suspected, was a show centered around animal rights, and specifically peta. if i remember correctly, there was a lot of dead flesh abused in any number of ways, all legal, during the course of that one. the show more than implies but doesn't flat out say that most of the founding and/or high ranking members of the organization admittedly have no problem with the loss of human life in contrast to that of any other creature in the animal kingdom, and by doing so also explores the psychology of guilt and self hatred that permeates them. public protest and celebrity endorsement obfuscates a complicated and almost militaristic heirarchy that brings to mind the psychotic and sociopathic rabidity of the religious right.

peta, following the lead of cults such as scientology, uses celebrities to normalize extremist methodology. its seems that just behind exploitative pictures of a near naked pamela anderson, just behind the shadow left by her synthetic almost bionic mammaries lurk the even more shady spectres of eco-terrorism and obsessive animaphiles. (i think i just made up a word there, but it sounds smart and you know what i mean.) countless crimes have all but been linked to the so called charitable organization, with card carrying members arrested in such illegal and just plain reactionary actions such as freeing animals from testing labs or posting threats agains prominent researchers.

so you can tell that i think that peta can go to hell.

that doesn't mean that i don't like animals. far from it actually. but i am also an advocate of the philosophy that anything, whether it be substance or idea, in excess is inherently wrong.

although marginally aligned with some of the ideals of peta, the humane society, an organization that can't afford to pay on their way out hollywood c and d listers enough money to supply their coke habits for the next month to do full page ad in vogue or cosmo, has been working on an investigation that peta, with its admitted media manipulation expertise, has yet to really publicize at all.

http://apnews.myway.com/article/20070223/D8NFFQL81.html

the explanation, and this is really just my opinion, is that over the past few years peta has lost relevance and acceptance by the national and even international communites. this has been the result of peta member involvement in non urgent issues that tie up congress and generally piss off those of us that feel i would much rather take care of family than walk in the footsteps of "god the great and terrible"

so because i don't want to type anymore, more to come

the devil was an idea

breathe in

i've been hibernating. not just from the outside world, but from the internal world i've created online and beyond. is it guilt? not really. is it remorse? not quite. is it shame? always, but not this time.

i just have actually enjoyed being alone, a separatist of sorts. i immerse myself in my work, thankless as it is. i play with logic puzzles and soduko, crosswords and acrostics. plus, kitty ate two of the cords that connect me to the outside world.

i was on another blog, which i wish i could reference but can't because the lords of this site are scared of outside influence, that talked about an experiment with occult ideas gone wrong, scientific mutilations blamed on danish aliens and freemasons, that made me think of my own cultural experiments, and their blackened cheek backfires.

am i that horrible?

it is a question i ask all the time. i examine my deeds and illusions and wonder if that is what the mirror of society perceives me as, some newtime crowley with his head in his hands. i have my own devils dictionary, my own wonder and wimsy. who are you? it comes late at night like this, yellow roads and ruby slippers all bundled up.

i think of the number 3, and how it haunts me. 3 years, the constant of my pain, 3 mouths, the motivation.

breathe out

and i babble like this.

a reflective glance is much better than a full body mirror of a lifetime of grief.


nebulize

boom boom satellites - on the painted desert

fighting with shards of glass

breathe in

i heard a great concept on, of all places, ellen. yes i know that makes me even more gay than i care to admit, but damn that show is great. anyway. they were talking about things that you want to do in life. about goals. about doing things that you have always dreamed. one woman, a very intelligent and thought provoking woman, said that the first thing that she wanted to accomplish was to learn how to say no.

now we aren't talking about nancy reagan and tipper gore. we are talking about a normal no. the power to say no when someone asks you to, lets say, lend them 5 dollars when you don't have it, but you know they need it. to say no when you really mean it, when you really want to, and not feel guilty for refusing to do a good deed when in truth it may in fact hurt you or the person asking for the favor.

i said no tonight to going out to the bar, and my phone has not stopped ringing.

the gay movement complains that the general public sees us as sinners, as drunks, as addicts, but when i think of the peer pressure and the lifestyle that a large segment of the gay population lives, i have to agree. now, i know that i'm prone to self loathing, but i don't want to include myself in that group. i want to be an individual. i don't want to live at the bar.

the other day i was picked up at 10am to go to a bar when i really didn't want to go, when i honestly had better things to do. i went. i couldn't say no. but it made me reflect. do i want to end up one of these people. do i want to end up at the neighborhood tavern on any free day i have, getting shitfaced before half the world has had their first coffee break. i've honestly been there, and all it is is depressing.

breathe out

i need to start doing 'other' things. maybe i will start chatting online again, or maybe i'll do something else.

anyone want to be my personal trainer.

nebulize

conjure one - extraordinary ways

three days of smiling silence

breathe in

it's already fucking september. another year has flown by and nothing has changed. i had my spring romance. i had my summer fling. i lost a friend. i gained a few pounds.

last year at this time were the last days of disco, albeit in my mind everything was ok. everything changed the last week of september last year, and i should have used that opportunity to improve myself, to improve others. but i didn't. i went back in to the same routine of deception and degeneration.

at least my pants still fit.

breathe out

as quoted from podiatry.com:

'Prevention is the best defense against gout. Medication (e.g., small doses of NSAIDs, colchicine, allopurinol [Zyloprim®], probenecid) may prevent continued accumulation of uric acid in the joints and further attacks. Avoiding alcohol and rich foods that are high in purine (e.g., scallops, sardines, red meat, sweetbreads, gravy, cream sauces) also may help to prevent the condition.'

no i don't have the gout. but i know someone who does.

everywhere i go i see a cycle of alcohol and alcoholism, of lies and lethargy. i guess half of the disease is motivated by fear. the other half, in my mind, is motivated by sloth. i do believe it's a disease, i don't believe that it's incurable. the cure, in my mind, is support, is creating a better self image, is to shift your priorities to something other than where your next drink is coming from. you don't need aa to do it. you don't need a therapist to do it. you need a realization that you are responsible for your own actions, and you need to admit that you have a problem.

sounds a little preachy, huh?

now if i could only say it, and if others would back me up.

nebulize

tori - hotel

justifiction of self

breathe in

no one told me that life would be so much like high school.

nebulize

i'm not okay - my chemical romance

eyes on the balcony

breathe in

i write stories. it's what i do. i spin a yarn about this boy and this cock and who had whose mouth on his whatsit and all the other juicy details. let's tell a true story.

right now i just feel alone.

and thats the truth. choo choo.

nebulize

joan osbourne - ladder

and there is sweet pain

breathe in

it comes in waves. this little bit of autobiographical stuff. it comes and i exaggerate.

it comes.

nebulize

bt- dark heart dawning

i think i fell in a bed of roses

ventilate

the red light pulsed a silent heartbeat outside the window, a neon 'u' screaming its death song among the joy of the other silently buzzing words and pictures that lined the avenue. he smiled, and continued to put his pants on, one leg at a time.

his thoughts went over the past few days, the past few years. he saw her and him and we and she and he and almost christ. almost.

a roach traced its way along the floorboards, leaving cryptograms of footprints in the ages old dust. she stirred, her breathing a clockwork of wheezes and sighs. he slowly walked to the window, peering through the bars and the mildew. he saw whores and johns, a wide array of dead poets, and the ones that called themselves muties. he saw those with the marks of st. alaric on their foreheads, wandering fools stained with the scent of commerce and filth. he saw the consulate, their iron masks hiding the sweat stained brows and their doubtful eyes. and the drums. of course he heard the drums.

he saw a light in a tower across the trees to the east. he knew he was waiting with his liquor and his wit. somewhere staring back at him across the dark expanse red eyes waited. the knife grew a hot silver when he spoke his name under his breath.

next time it will be a bed of roses, her name a thousand words of glory. next time it won't be like this.

sickening sighs and sweet overtures of you

breathe in

i sometimes fall behind. i sometimes think that this can be nothing more than anything else and i fall. i think that i can come back and try. i think and i fall and i dimly remember that none of this is quite what i had planned.

sounds like a bunch of emo shit but it is what's on my mind right now.

breathe out

i don't do drugs. ok a little. ok used to be a lot but still i don't do them anymore. that much.

i think that when a drug dealer accuses you of stealing from him that he doesn't trust you. just a thought.

nebulize

madonna - secret