Category: Uncategorized

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.

Why do I keep getting close to people? They always fucking hurt me. I get to know someone and fall in love with them. I don’ t just mean girlfriends. I mean, friends. I guess I put too much faith in people. Not enough reliance on god and too much on people. People are as unreliable as the weather. There’s a few people in my life right now who seem to be incredibly selfish. I am as well. I am extremely selfish. So let’s write about my selfishness hopefully in an attempt to understand their selfishness.

I am selfish and self centered. I take advantage of people to make myself feel better. I love talking about my shit to people. When I was younger I had no friends, spent a lot of time alone and so never had to talk about my self. Now that I have friends in my life, I realize I do enjoy the attention being on me, my issues, my troubles, my goals, my joys, my thoughts, my sexlife, what’s going on for me, my sobriety, my hurt and my pain. If our friendship was perfect in my eyes, I would talk about me and the other person would be profoundly interested in listening. And then they would talk and I would be profoundly interested in them. But multiple people have told me that I take attention given but never give them the time of day. Self-centered. I want the attention. I figure my friends are my friends because I care about them and they care about me. I feel like I am there for my friends and that I make the effort to see them. But perhaps I am only their friends when it serves my purpose. Perhaps I only make the effort to see them when I need them. Like any self-centered person, i find this very hard to admit, and even harder to accept.

I’m particularly peaveed on this subject. One of my so-called best friends, and the guy who I’ve lived with for the past year took the liberty of telling me I’m selfish and fucked up and that it’s killing me. My first thought? How dare you! You’re the selfish one! And I whole-heartedly believed it at the time.

Today I wanted to see my other friend, JR. I guess I thought we had plans to see each other. Apparently this intricate plan was all in my head. I feel like such a bitch. I feel like a needy bitch. I’ve been trying to not squash my feelings. When I feel hurt or whatever to just vocalize it and not let my head run with it. Jr’s a free spirit and likes to be alone. I want to be around her a lot. I like her, she makes me feel good about myself, but in so doing I give her the power to make me feel like total shit as well. I tend to do that a lot, give that power to people. As a result I am fucked up. I feel very fucked up. I feel ashamed and embarassed. Like if my friends new about this they would not want to be my friends. This is because I do not like it about myself. I would not want to be friends with someone who felt like this.

So, what i’m left to work on is getting out of myself. to rid myself of this selfish thinking. But I think everything is about me. It’s so much easier to look at how selfish they are, but it is my selfishness that will kill me, not theirs. I just want to crawl in a hole, i don’t want to expose others to my selfishness. I am ashamed. I am so ashamed.

I often look at people in a well lit environment, or standing infront of a tree with the colours and composition and wish I could freeze that moment in time. It sounds cliche. I wish my eyes were cameras and my body was a facade to contain the cameras so that without influencing the moment I could just savour that image. If i were to actually pull out a camera, people cover their faces, they move they run away or they pose all resulting in an influenced moment. But to capture that pure moment is what I would love. To just be a hollow, to not be in the situation at all but to just be a camera that people looked at.

Fucking get over yourself, nick.
When is brutal honesty just brutal? fuck all this, i’m going to bed. and this, gentlemen and ladies, is nick giving in to the plague of depression once again reclaiming nick’s perception.

The possibility of a new appartment and a new job.

I no longer feel that this blog allows me the creative freedom I need. I love this place where I write, the walls on which I scrawl my idlings. But the current audience is such that I am holding back what it is I really want to write. It seems apparent that some fears are yet to be overcome. Also I fear that the words I have not been writing could be hurtful, but they are words that I would like to express to this blog, nevertheless.

I am so happy that I am getting out of this place. I can’t wait. This place is disgusting. And I don’t just mean the industrial vibe. I can deal with that. But here’s what I can’t deal with: it smells like cat piss, it’s dark and miserable, I hate throwing parties to make rent.

I pray for him instead of getting angry. But god is it difficult to fight the rage I feel towards him. I deserve better than to be treated like shit by my so called friends, especially ones who are supposedly older than me and had more time following a spiritual path. I ask my god what wrong I have done him and that is all I focus on. That is all that matters.

I got up early this morning and took the #17 UBC and #7 Dunbar to my parents house in the green west side. I listened to Alice in Chains the whole way there. I have grown quite fond of the tracks Shame In You, God Am and Junkhead. Had a shower at my parents house. Took the car and returned the left over booze and mixers from the flopped party on the weekend. Got over $300 back in returns. Picked up JR from Granville and took her out to breakfast. Then saw Briony when i was dropping her off at home. Briony looks thin. I wanted to pick her up and give her a ride but JR convinced me not to. came home and read for a while. Now I’m going to see Anne and talk shit through.

Hey Lauren.

I am an artist from Vancouver. I like to cut myself. Actually, I don’t know if I like it but for whatever reason that I do it, I have many scars from self-inflicted cutting.

I found you through our common group, “cutters.” I was looking at your photo gallery and noticed you have some beautiful fresh scars.

I am interested in putting together an art show here on the subject of Self-Inflicted Cutting. The concept is to exhibit a series of photographic prints of fresh cuts. The show would also involve some poetry and installation pieces. I don’t want this show to have any moral implications, but instead show the beauty in self-destruction.

What I am looking for is people interested in participating in this show. I am looking for somewhere between 10 and 30 people who not only cut themselves but also who have good photographs of their wounds or are willing to cut themselves and be photographed.

Contact me if you are interested.

nokin

nokin(a)deadempire.com

Still depressed. Maybe I should just give up hope that this will change. I certainly can’t seem to shake it. I have changed my daily routine in hopes of remedying this affliction. I wake early, around 9am. I then go to a morning meeting at 10am. Afterwards, I go for breakfast at Bon’s with a friend. We always have interesting conversations. We infact enjoy each others company. I seem to have troubles with my afternoons. I completely hate them, infact. I’m fine in the evening, for I go to another meeting around 7 or 8pm.
But until then, I loathe existing. So then kill myself you say? I don’t blame you for suggesting. I hate listening to people whine about the baine of their said and pathetic lives. It bores me.
I think we’re all sad. I think we’re all lonely here. I think we’re all in the icy water, drowning. Some of us sometimes pull together the courage and strength to imagine the hot weather on a tropical island. The warm breeze, a lover by our side. Without complications. Total blissful harmony. But it’s not fucking real. It’s a fantasy. It’s made up to avoid the painful reality of thrashing about in this fridgid body of water, alone until our untimely end. After that? who knows, it doesn’t matter yet.

Your mind’s arrogance and condemnation intrigue me. I am curious as to whether your voice is a serious reflection of your obviously inflated ego. Not that that’s a bad thing. And not that I’m trying to lessen the blow to your ego either for to get blown is your choice. I only mean that everything is a matter of perspective. You have yet to ultimately insult me enough to keep me away from you. Instead I choose to learn from you. To study your mind and activity so that I may strengthen my own mind and destiny.
–> example.
I recently have been analyzing a great deal the philosophy of morality. Specifically, the system of principals and judgements upon which our daily choices are made. Everything as simple as why we choose to eat the foods we choose to eat to why we all aren’t choosing to kill eachother all the time. Every choice I make, every jugement I make I am swamped with considerations regarding the right thing to do. And how I feel when a good or bad event comes to pass. My early assumption on the matter is that morality is a matter of persepective. I think apples are good because they are juicy and red. You think apples are bad because you shot your father playing William Tell. What I think is good, you can think is wrong. It’s all a matter of perspective. What follows is that if there is no definite right and wrong, there is no definite truths at all except ones that can be proven objective.
Writing this out, it seems this whole reasoning is fairly obvious and rudimentry. I shall delve further in to it in my thoughts tomorrow.

Your blog – yes, i read all of your absurdly long post. I thought it was fantastic, considering your recent comment that you cannot seem to think of anything ‘good’ (morality case) to write. and until I’m published I don’t give a fuck about grammar and spelling, as self-righteous and wise as it makes me feel to flaunt off my university-grade english, I prefer getting out my ideas and thoughts rather than making them 100% understandable first draft. It’s a hell of a lot more coherant than what I used to write high.