Eeeeeeeyyyyeeeeee feeeeeeeeeel faaaaannntassssstic! Hey. Hey. Heey.

It feels as though it has been a long time since I last updated. I've been looking through some of my old posts, and it's tempting to just delete this whole abomination. Honestly it makes me look a bit unhindged, and in this political climte it's not good to look unhindged. Just keep in mind that this is all just semi-fictional  mental vomit and means nothing. I guess I just want to give a heart felt apology to the wretched NSA guy whose job it is to monitor me. You actually had to sit and listen to all of that noise I made and labaled music. Poor guy. I hear PTSD therapy works wonders.
 

Maybe forever. Wallowing in my own self pity isn't working for me.

It’s been a month so far since I’ve had alcohol. It’s not that I’m looking for validation or anything (so do not give it to me). I just need an outlet sometimes and this blog serves that purpose. It hasn’t been as difficult as I thought it’d be, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t deeply miss booze. I’ve taken up smoking cigarettes from to time. I don’t know what my fixation on self destruction is all about, but it seems I can barely get through the day without doing something that could lead to a slow death.

A lot of drunks act like sobriety is the solution to all their problems, as though sober living is the key to happiness. I call bullshit. There’s always a reason why someone habitually drinks or uses drugs to excess. It’s not like they just randomly woke up one day and decided to be a drunk. There’s always more to it than just, “I was happy and normal but then just randomly started guzzling a bottle of vodka daily.” It’s almost always some sort of self-medicating, coping mechanism. Giving up the toxins that you voluntarily consume isn’t a heroic thing. If someone breaks a window and then repairs it, it was still the person’s own fucking fault for breaking the window in the first place.

There isn’t much point to writing this shit. I’m still poor as fuck and battling my issues. There could be a day when I drink a little alcohol again, but the fun of being drunk wore off a long time ago. That’s when it became less like fun and more like medication.

Now I’m not saying that alcohol is evil or the root of all misfortune. There are plenty of times when getting drunk is perfectly reasonable and enjoyable, and there are plenty of people who responsibly drink without any problems. Hell, even if you’re a booze bag and proud of it, it’s your body, man. Kill it how you want to kill it.

I’m just tired of it.         

Shockwave!

Massive attack!

Atomic blast!

Son of a gun is back!

                                  -KMFDM

I think i'll just go live in a Unibomber shack in the middle of the woods. At least there I wont have to mix amoungst you smell, pig people all day long and pretend I'm human. Hail Satan.

Art work by this dude

Story by me

People have a fascination with the macabre and the horrific. It’s obvious. If that weren’t true, gory news stories would not always be such a hot topic. If it bleeds, it leads. Still, in this society, that fascination is shunned but at the same time fostered. You see it in True Crime and the media when they quickly point out, after several hours of photographic evidence, that the madman of the week enjoyed explicit music, reading about serial killers, and writing graphic fiction (a.k.a. horror). What they don’t point out is that the same thing could be said about Stephen King, Clive Barker, or any other completely unhomicidal person who writes dark fiction professional or otherwise.

The idea of preemptively preventing acts of violence by judging the artistic interests of people minding their own business is as unfair as it is terrifying to me. I am tired of seeing this same, tired, old bullshit spewed across my TV screen or monitor.  I am also tired of hearing everyone talk of how the MENTALLY ILL need to be rounded up and sent to the nuthouse while giving us few if any clues as to what they mean by MENTALLY ILL or who’s going to be in charge of deciding if you or I are crazy enough to lose our right to be left alone and treated with respect.  

I am afraid of people , and hate a crowd
They talk too much, and much too loud
I don’t like the way the men look and smell
And I’m not a big fan of the women as well

I can feel their eyes upon me, burning through the skin
And this will always happen again and again
My lungs seize up and my heart starts to hammer
My mind starts racing with words that I stammer

I feel like a fool and look like a freak
Can I leave unnoticed if I carefully sneak?
I’ll find a dark place and there I can hide
And stowaway in a spaceship ride

I am afraid of people; I’m not sad to say
That I will not be a person one day
Anxiety and woe is all for naught
A demon that follows until I rot

Our resident psychopath Mr. Apophis has requested more stuff, and I'm gonna give it to him. I'll k...keep you posted.