Category: Uncategorized

I have made a concious note that as of late my spelling has become atrocious. My vocabulary has diminished as well. I’m self concious of these because I usually have prided myself on my grammar and spelling so I now feel hippocritical, lazy and uneducated.

Talked with my sister on the phone today. First time I heard her voice since she left. She’s stressed out about all her probelms. The main one being that she has no ability to find an internet cafe with free wi-fi. She seriously sounds on the virge of a berakdown. Shit. I hate feeling so useless and unable to help. Mental illness sucks. Why is everyone I know mentally ill?

I’m sure when you said “this may hurt a little” it was a mental note regarding harm done to yourself to rid yourself of your demons rather than hurting others through what you right. Atleast, that’s what I would guess given your last post on other people assuming everything to be about them. hmm. well… uh… don’t feel alone cause i feel (or think, rather) pretty much the same shit in my head all day about everyone as well. Cept i end up directing more of that hatred back at myself, cause the fuckin fellowship has convinced me that i am at the root of all my problems and that all hatred is MY issue, that really no problems are inherant in the universe, but instead are experiential and entirely subjective. So this leads me to want to buy a gun. shoot myself, shoot you, i dunno. i just wanna go on a killing rampage sometimes. i figure life’s a sick game, and i’m not really laughing. I’m not having fun. I try to play by the rules but the rules leave me losing. sorry for the rant comment. you got me thinkin.

Yada yada, same old shit problems.

The one thing i’m looking forward to right now is my third floor view. Cause a view never hurt anybody, never asked for anything or stopped showing it’s view. Other than that, i really don’t know what kind of life i’m walking in to. I don’t know if I’m even gonna keep making art. I mean, i hope I do. But saying “I hope I do” sounds like saying “I hope I live a happy life and am rich and famous”. I am so procrastinating right now. Tomorrow I am renting a truck. A 16′ truck. The plan is to move all my shit, everything to my parent’s basement. Then, once I am cleared out of this shithole I can sort through my shit and decide what I can and want to fit in to my newly decreased living space. Going from a 6000 sq. ft. warehouse to a bachelor suite is gonna be a tight squeeze.

Oh, and I don’t hate my room mate anymore…. again. I think we’ll appreciate each other a lot more when we are not living together. I think this thing has been good for both of us but I think it’s run it’s course. He said in his blog I’m an asshole. Yup, probably am, infact if he says I am I’m certain he thinks I am, and in his eyes I am very much an asshole. I have huge difficulties with simply coping with life. It’s a struggle. I try my best and do not always succeed. I am okay with the fact that we are atleast talking to each other again and that I don’t feel like I need to avoid him like the plague. Plague of negativity and unadressed depression. Sorry, that was totally a knock. But I can totally accept that I am afflicted with the same plague often enough.

I need clarity. I need purpose. I need someone to love and be loved. Or maybe there’s one thing in my life that I’m neglecting that could fix all this shit.

I want to smoke so bad today. It’s taking everything in me to resist this obsession to smoke. And what i can see is that I alone don’t have the ability or the power to resist it.

I’m done trusting. I’m done with you. I don’t hate you, I might even have love for you. I don’t know what fuckin love is. I wanted to be your friend and there were times when i thought that’s how it was. There was times when I looked in to your eyes and I knew that I could look in to your eyes for the rest of life and feel companionship. But then whether fault of yours or my own, (i know you’re thinking to yourself “it’s his own”) I became an obligation, a chore, another plan in your life to be scheduled. I never should let myself me so vulnerable. You don’t even seem to care when I tell you I’m hurt. And what I hate about telling you is a seem like a needy bitch.

I just wanna shutoff from you. I am officially closing the border to emotional engagement. And i know I’ve said that before. Probably never directly to you, but you may have sensed it. It probably feels similar to how i feel when you pull away from me, physically, emotionally, spiritually. And then i feel alone. And then I blame you, but soon the boomerang of blame comes around and I get smacked in the head with the guilt of knowing I’m really to blame. To blame for letting you in, letting you close, trusting that you wouldn’t hurt me, trusting that you actually could control your faculty for hurting me. Not physical hurt, atleast not so much. I take care of that. Emotional pain and anxiety leads to slashing. But ultimately I’m to blame, and i fucking hate that fact. Cause when i’m alone and crying cause i feel so fucking abandoned and alone I look to the only one who I imagine could recitfy my pain and then I get another boot in the face, and so I cry more, and when I’m done looking for you to offer me a solution I blame you but then when I realize you don’t even give a fuck about giving me pity I realize the futility in my pity. Arrival at the final stages of self-pity and loathing. A place where I am so familiar. Even now you don’t give a fuck, so i look to the only one who can, my face in the mirror. I realize we are alone and there is no rescue squad. There is no salvation. My only salvation comes in the form of a supreme spiritual entity. A fucking “god”. It’s entirely a figment of my imagination. A coping mechanism without which I would have no reason to live. Cause when you realize love is lie you realize your eternal loneliness. And to me and the god of my head eternal loneliness is death.

The new sound around here is Wu-Tang Clan. The Shaolin style. I have finished my first full week of full-time work since… since before I started doing hard drukqs. It feels good and my body is starting to recover itself. The problem is with construction is the work comes hard but it comes in spurts. So, I may not continue to get to work full-time. I hope I do, but I want to be prepared if I don’t.

Twisting grappled grapes agape monster corrupt fish cunt agro metal jagged tight precisionsoft inside away from the tainted plastique grains of wired bundle spindle wheat cows and barns and yarn a freeway an overpass don;t drush me with your crooked teeth papercuts crowbars bars for crows fake buttons that you try to press cordura condoms tenting tarping alone streetwise skyabove beautiful we were alone that summer sailing propeller grime scurvy you seem like you had something you wanted to say you seemed like you were holding back holding in not letting me know your thoughts i want transparency i want to know everything i want to know what i want like reading the script that you love me or atleast want to fuck celibate celibate celibrate no nookie no cookies just milk that you can’t drink cause you saw the Corporation and a special vegan virgin convinced you sucking bleeding cow tits leads to antibiotic laced milk hormonal induced human side-effects screaming ants can’t stop our feet from pounding in their homes delicate and intricate incarnate carbonate corrugate constipate constellate consummate consulate corn i ate

Today, right now I’m fucking stoked. I just got home from work. I’m blasting 50 Cent and my back is burning from an 8-hour sunburn. At work, we literally ripped the roof off a house. That took us 4 hours. 4 hours to completely obliterate the top half of a house. The second half of the day was spent moving the shit from the backyard to the dumpster. Construction is really quite gratifying work. I didn’t think I’d like it so much. Starting at 7am tomorrow and we have another 8 hours to be in the sun and haul rubble. As I was leaving my GC told me that he’s got lots of work for me, that I’m working for the summer, if i want it. And i do. I like working. The team is awesome. I know a few of them, friend-style. So we all get along and joke all day.

I feel totally fulfilled. I have hope. Soon I’ll be outta here and living like a normal human and working like a normal human. Feeling alive like a normal human. Quality of life is up 800% and drugs remain at 0%.

hey, thanks for talking to me. my sketch is that I think I suck so much that i can’t imagine why anyone would wanna hang out with me or talk to me but then i get really lonely when i wallow in my loneliness and then i feel like i’m desperate or something when i break down and reach out for help. and then it’s particularly cruel in that moment of desperation when i get denied…. it kind of proves my thwory correct. but luckily, you were able to talk to me and make me feel not so worthless.which brings me to my next question about whether it is not a good practice to base my salvation on talking to another human, let alone hearing what i want to hear from another human…. if afterall we are beyond human aid.

yes, i enjoy conversation with you also.

I just republished my blog back at my old location. I think it’s total bullshit to care what people think about my personal journal. Fuck that. Friends that judge me aren’t true friends and I have no need for them in my life. I’m learning to be true to myself, and to be the master of myself. And a practical step towards that, i believe is to overcome whatever it is blocking me from posting on here.

I know there are people who read this shit everyday. Every fucking day look forward to logging on and reading something new that I’ve written, and with the same excitement I look forward to reading what they have written on their blogs. I think it unfair to them and myself to stop writing or kill this blog just cause one person is fucked in the head.

Fucking hell. My brain is so chaotic lately. Everything is so difficult. Maximizing. I’m reading a book called “Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy”. I hope to overcome my ineffective mind which leads to my feelings of worthlessness and depression.

I just fucked it all up. Last week I was stressing over getting a new apartment and employment. Well, today Raymar realty called and I got the apartment that I looked at last week. So that’s good. That’s great. That means in a month I won’t be living in this fucking shit hole anymore. I will be free. I will have a view of the mountains and downtown from the top of Mount Pleasant. I will be living in a building with about 6 friends and AA aquaintances. For the first time since I was 17 I will be living alone. I’m thrilled. No more people stealing my food from my fridge. I will be able to cook my own meals, go to bed when I want to, do what I want to, see who I want to.

Here’s where I fucked it all up: Last wednesday I was panicking cause I was broke and realized a dire need for employment. Any employment. I asked Carl about working for him, in construction and he said “call me sunday night”. And it’s monday, 1pm and i just remembered that he told me to call him. FUCK. my one chance at getting employment and I fucked it up. I totally fucked it up. I mean, I hope he understands when I do call him tonight. But fuck, I feel like a douche and I havent even started working for the bloke yet.

The other day I moved my blog to a different location. all posts up till then are still at the old location, but anything new is now going to deadempire.com/blog/chaptertwo instead of the old location /nokin. It’s sort of put me off, moving my blog. It’s changed the vibe of this whole thing. I suppose I could return to the old location.

I guess I came to a realization that maybe my “personal” journal is better off not published where everyone knows where it is. I think maybe some things are better left unsaid.