Everything You Know

"Funny. Cause I wasn't talking about your 'blog'. I was talking about a green notebook with 'x' like tears through the last written pages."

Which, of course, was very egotistical and conceited. It was a journal for someone else about me. This starkly contrasts that red thing which is most comprised of: fear of not being good enough, getting angry at yourself, being extremely creepy and overwhelming with lines that all end in 'can't live without you', and the occasional subtle guilt-trip.

When I say 'contrast' I guess mean 'same' on the egotistical scale. Not that there is anything wrong with that, it means you're doing what I already did before right. I'd definitely try to tone down on the 'obsessive bitch' part of it all though. People are starting to notice.

"How many times can someone give you the same unique piece of art before you grow sick of it?"

Style

Style can come across as awkward when you don't really have one.

Let me justify this by saying that when I personally do the works that end I being the most unhappy with, I'm usually trying to imitate something I really enjoy, be it gritty realism or the style of some of my favorite artists. I still don't feel like I have a full grounding or comprehension of style and what I can really do with it, only very basic information.

What I do know is that this style

comes naturally to me. I don't have to think about a whole lot, it just happens and I just let it happen and I'm rarely really upset with it. Sure it's stiff and needs to loosen up a bit, but it feels different. I don't second guess it, and I feel like I have a lot of control over it. However, that is part of the issue for me.

Art hasn't felt easy since I was little. It hasn't not felt like a struggle to get everything perfect in a long time. And since doing things in this style feels easier, in my head I feel like it has to be 'the easy way out', and I hate that. Not to mention that I don't like it nearly as much for conveying certain emotions as other styles do.

I think I'm torn here.

Someone say something.


(also Alexis you're stupid, this is my blog, as in my journal, why wouldn't it come across as 'egotistical'. Christ, I'm not a fucking philanthropist.)

I've been pacing the floor for about an hour now, waiting for my main system to finish doing whatever it is that it's doing with it's virus ridden self. I pace and I look and I grab at the wall and come back with a hand full of nothing, appropriately. And when I see my empty hands I realize the two things I want the most in life.

Firstly, I want to do something. I want to start a project and finish a project. I want to care about something again. About finishing something, about making something. There is a person I want to be who I am not, and I don't know why. I want to blame everything around me but I don't, and I can't, because that's not fair to me since it's my fault. Sure, I try to paint something every night on the Cintiq, but I find myself more frustrated with it and myself than anything else. Out of 12 nights of painting, I finish one thing. One thing that isn't even that good.

I'm discovering things that appeal to me more and more, things I think I really want to be a part of but am not. Things that quite literally just make me a filthy hipster but I love it, because there is something raw and appealing about it. To it's core, to mine. I want to try but I'm not sure where to find the energy. Days I go to work my day job are 'wasted' in my mind because I 'already did work today'. How the fuck is that viable in any sense? Why can't I just do like I tell myself I will and do?

I'm not the only one with this problem. I know two others who are just as desperate for purpose and place, finding a way to feel like we fucking belong here. And I want to help us but I can't and I don't know how because nothing works. And the cold hard fact that I, and we, will just sit here and die day after day and the only thing stopping us is ourselves doesn't seem to make a difference. What is happiness and fulfillment, and why can't we seem to find it?

And secondly, I just want to love again. To miss and be missed.

One of two will suffice, but both are probably necessary.

"If we could both find a way to do the things that we say, we might not sit our room and drink our daydreams away"

Gray AND White

I keep forgetting to mention that our website is actually up and working a bit. Not finished, but don't rush me.. these things takes years.

http://www.graywhite.net/

We,

meaning you, and I, are getting younger. Forever.

Don't waste it like I will.

Sketch Dumpp

More on Solanin

My plans of finishing this comic in a short amount of time (one sitting) were shot down pretty fucking fast after I read the fifth chapter of it. It's rare for me to read something that makes me literally have to fucking stop and reflect in the middle of a story. It was just captivating to me.

What's strange is that the chapter plays out different from the rest of the story so far. It doesn't contain any spoilers, and instead explains about a character who has been mentioned very lightly up to this point. While the interactions with the main character are important, I'm sure, it feels almost like an aside.

(viz translated his name as Rip, which makes more sense to us non-slants)

I want you to read it. Like wise, I have uploaded this entire chapter (14 pages) here, or you can click on the image, so, please. Be captivated with me.

I am afraid to continue the story because I have a growing fear that it might not live up to the image I'm painting of it in my mind, but I'm pretty optimistic at this point.

Who cares?

"The way I see it, adults are made up of "who cares?". I have potbelly, but who cares? My nose hairs show, but who cares? As long as I'm not caught, who cares? I'm totally insincere, but who cares? There's war, famine, disease and thousands of people are dying, but as long as I'm happy, who cares? They pay well here, so who cares?" --Inio Asano via "Solanin"

I should really probably stop reading this before it decides to hit home.

Intermission

The next person to mention Fallout 3 New Vegas to me gets a swift punch in the balls. It's not that I have any hate for the game or series, it's that from time to time a sequence of personal events will jade my judgment. Such is the case with Fallout 3.

The act of being able to finish a game in my company is something that people who do not know me ('know me' meaning in a face-to-face context) seem to find exciting. My level of frustration when I'm attempting to do even the most basic of actions in a games tends to cause amusement to those around me; it's not that I am intentionally entertaining them as much as me being mocked from the side-lines. It is a common theme that seems to run through my actual relationships (see: girlboy and redfail) that pressing through a game with me apparently falls apart. My charms, they ain't much.

I never finished Fallout 3 because I was always acting under the impression that I was playing it with Jeremy. It was unfortunate when I realized he was playing the game alone behind my back in an attempts to do and be better than me in everything he could. That's a trend that seemed to stem into the rest of our relationship too I suppose, but I'm only bitter about the Fallout thing and not the.. falling out thing. I would love to be excited with you guys about Vegas, really I would, but it seems silly for me to get worked up over an expansion who's base I didn't even finish proper.

I would also like to mention that I'm pretty sure I don't like you at all. It is pathetic and I expected it, but that doesn't make it less upsetting. I think the words "will be taking care of me" were what set me off as 'time-waste', but the complete disregard for yourself is what really made me realize you aren't good enough. It is unfortunate that you're both too stupid to realize that, but doesn't make me feel any less ill, so I pop another pill and go on my way.

Of Similarity - I

Here I am, far away from you all in Washington. You really should have come with me, it's lovely here. I will save brushing on the inane for a little while longer and instead plague your eyes with my artistic endeavors since my depart.

This is more of a concept piece.

Watching Jeremy play Spelunky is like watching an amazingly elaborate train-wreck in slow motion. It's simplistic and beautiful in it's awkwardness. While once attempting to rescue a woman, his inability to properly handle a controller cause him to continue to beat her in the face with a rock. I told him after he hit her twice that he was killing her and that he really should stop. He responded with certainty that he had not done anything wrong and that she was just fine, that he hadn't hit her even once. As his slender fingers slipped the rock once again into her skull he had the dawn of realization that she was no longer breathing. I'm quite sure that she's still lying there somewhere, bloody and forgotten.

He literally wouldn't stop asking.

This one ended how it started; poorly.

Next time I get some free moments just to be myself I'll take the time to upload some photos and things, and tell some stories that actually require a locational change.

Hey Everybody!

"Hey Doctor Nick!"

Instead of sleeping before my long plane ride today, I have instead drawn you two pictures. I really hope you enjoy my dedication towards you. <3

This first one is just a horrible sketch of this adorable person named NI CO LAS. I kind of fucked up a bit on it.

I needed a new avatar for DA and kind of went overboard with this, and made it waaaay larger than required. (since, required was 50x50..)

That is all! Next time you hear from me I will basking up the rain in lovely Washington! <3<3<3

Further Notice

After inspection, the previous post can go ahead and apply to you as well, like everyone assumed. It's definitely true, but says more about everyone else's perception than my own. <3

(still, going on record and saying I'm not being a bitch. Disappointment isn't cause for debate; live your life, be happy. Seriously.)

There was this crazy period of time in my life when I'd keep waking up next to brown people.. In Chicago. And in Dallas. And Portland. I, uh.. I had issues, I guess. Anyway, this is Vincent and I, waking up, young and in love with the city.

I'm finishing up the editing on the photos from our last wedding, and I'll be uploading my favorites before I leave for Portland this Saturday. I'm also updating our main web-page, and organizing everything for the influx of commission work that's making me love being jobless.

Jane, if you're reading this, please don't go to college. I'd much rather you just stay here with me.

Um, lol

You're not better than 'that'. That's why the harsh light of reality beams so brightly on your face. It was impressive when you fought it, now it's just pathetically expected.

The good news is that you're just like everyone else now! (:


The bad news is that being different was the most amazing thing about you. ):

Kind of Early

This is a list of the things in my life that I love and attribute to being my fathers fault. Think of it as an early Father's Day gift. This list is in no particular order.

Ninja Gaiden & Super Mario Brothers
Although I've touched on this subject before, I think the day my father came home with a NES tucked under his arms like it was a small child is still a fairly important part of my life. With the system there were two games, Mario being the one that is more or less deep in everyone's minds, especially since he's still a part of every day life. The other game being Ninja Gaiden, a ridiculously difficult game with an amazing cinematic streak. Every time I hear the first boss theme I always think of the house we lived at in Arapaho and those giant ugly brown-yellow and black fur pillows (On an unrelated note, I remember having a nightmare about vampires on those pillows.) ((Also of note would be Super Mario Brothers 3 and Bugs Bunny's Crazy Castles))

Falling Down
A movie starring Michael Douglas, and frankly my favorite movie with him in it period. The movie acts under the guise of dark comedy, which isn't much of a guise to act under, but when it's not making you smile at a man who has literally gone over the edge, it's actually relaying a very deep message. I remember every time it was on TV we'd flip to it and watch it together. I'm not sure which part captivated my father about it, if it was the comedic aspect of it or the messages about the loss of a child, I'll never be sure.

Computers
This one is kind of cheating. After watching my father and his brother tend to his broken computer, I developed an interested into what the hell was going on. My introduction to the grimy end of systems that I can't get away from these days (blue screens of death, anyone?) would be the fault of this encounter. I think more than anything though I just wanted to be a part of the group. I'm here now, guys. Got anything broken?

Fear of Spiders
Let's not talk about this one.

Rocky
The story of the underdog! We probably watched all of them at least a million times. I'm not sure what significance this has had on my life, other than the fact that I really fucking love Rocky. So, thank you for embedding it in my mind forever.

Scooby Doo (Where Are You?)
My biggest fear is that someone I love will catch me watching an episode of Scooby Doo. I literally cannot stop laughing from start to finish when one is on, and I don't have a good reason as to why. Luckily, I was never alone in this childish endeavor, as watching an episode of Scooby Doo with my father merited the same response. I often wonder what my step mother and step sisters thought of the sight of a grown man and thirteen year old boy laughing like maniacs at the antics of an animated dog and his mystery solving gang. The world may never know, but I still keep to myself when it comes to watching it now. Please, don't judge me. ):

Comedy in general
The ability to laugh and crack jokes (and appreciation of) is another one of those things that I'm just going to give to my dad. Remembering the mostly horrible jokes he'd tell me helped me carve out part of an identity during middle school, you know, that special time when nothing is for certain. My friends would often ask where I heard these jokes. In a weird way, my father is a semi-celebrity among my friends, especially strange since only my closest friends have seen him, and they probably only saw him once.

All in the Family
When Carroll O'Connor died the only person I know who was impacted as much by the loss as me was my father. Something about his roll in All in the Family just stuck with me. While I did not do the majority of my watching of this show with my father, he was the one who turned me to it initially.

Resident Evil
The horror game boom that has played a giant roll in my life probably started here. I watched my father play through the entire Resident Evil Directors Cut video game before actually playing it myself. It was campy and awful, and still is, but the entire experience was enjoyable because of my dad. The game itself found solid ground for me when I generally felt betrayed by Wesker at the end. I don't know why, but I just did.

Fatal Frame
Pure terror. Why don't more people talk about this game? It would have gone under my radar for quite a bit longer had my father not bought it and played it. Despite the myth surrounding me, I'm not *really* afraid of ghosts, but if anything was going to actually inspire that fear it would be this game.

Art
This is something I did as a kid, as most kids do. You draw, you create. The only reason I kept doing it was because someone said "Hey, your dad used to do a lot of art, it's a shame he never tried to go anywhere with it". I'm not sure why he quit, all I can really say is that if there is a dream out there somewhere that you didn't get to live and it involves art, I took up the reins a long time ago. Not entirely by choice at first, though it has since grown into my own desire to succeed at something. So thanks, I think.

Wild Sew I Don't Know

I can't stop thinking about Wild Tigers I Have Known. I'm slightly unsure why, but will try to gather my thoughts here on the subject.

For starters, the movie was nothing like I thought it was going to be. It was not very dialogue heavy, and the narrative was not fed to me like a narrative traditionally is. My expectations were exact though, and I found myself getting embarrassed and upset that I had wanted to see a movie that was just so blatantly art house and overly pretentious. It feels like every cut in the movie is a fade to black. I almost snapped about halfway through. I had worked myself up to a state that made me impossible to enjoy what I was being given.

About 3/4ths of the way through the film though, I realized that even though what I expected wasn't happening, what I was being given was actually miraculous. When I stopped being a bitch about it, the film really started to appeal to a part of me that I thought didn't even exist. Information in the film seems scarce in the way of dialogue, but when you do get it it's amazingly powerful. It's a pieced together faction of memories and reality, and while a permanent overarching story is in place, it isn't thrown at you constantly. It cuts to scenes that at the beginning slightly annoyed me, but become stronger as the film goes on, and shows you glimpses of loneliness and struggle a young boy in this position faces. They're beautifully shot. And even though the film didn't necessarily come across as sad while I was watching it, it sunk into my mind as deeply depressing upon review.

The main character, played by Malcolm Stumpf, is absolutely gorgeous on all counts. While not the strongest dialogue actor, his body language is absolutely fantastic. The film touches on tons of themes detailing this boys struggle, including some very sexual moments and several hints to suicide throughout it. He does a great job of pulling off a very believable character, and I'm still heavily invested in it.

With my current mindset, I think I love this film, but it's one of those things I'd have a hard time recommending to anyone, mostly because I'm afraid that what I took away from it might be obscure and just native to me, and could be lost on someone else. Having said that, the person I watched it with also liked it, so.. go watch it and tell me. ):

Forty-Seven

My mom turned 47 today. Fucking old, right, I know. Best part?

That's what my grandma got her for her birthday. Better part? She objected to it verbally to me several times, but I put the CD in when I was taking her home, and she was singing every song and dancing, but if I looked at her she'd stop like she thought she was doing something wrong. I couldn't stop laughing.

Amazing.

Upside Down Grin

When I had fucked with the settings on my standard brush a little too much, I was forced to try a few others.. I discovered a whole lot of different brushes that were really kind of suited for this sort of work. Mostly ones that help to add that dotty-skin texture that I put all over this one. Gives the skin that porous look it needs, things that color can't do by itself. (:

Sadly that brush doesn't help me much when it comes time to do hair..

Something light

Doodle doodle doodle.. sketch sketch sketch.. didn't quite end up like I hoped, but that's the story of me. (:

Pure

An excuse to draw a chest, collarbone and adam's apple. Might have failed one of those.

Reality & Boxxy

We bend the line between what is real and fake, constantly. The other night I had three of those dreams that felt so real I was sure they were:

• I confronted about the first, with no response. It was a choppy dream, but I saw events play out. I still have no real confirmation. I kind of don't want it, either, for the most part.
• The second was about my mother's boyfriend cutting his hand while slicing a tomato on accident during the making a salad for her. I went to her house, just so see if maybe I'm crazy. He was fine. I felt relived, and stayed with my mom for awhile. Before I left, he slipped cut his hand while slicing a tomato.
• In the third, I'm driving with someone and we get in a bad car accident. I am presuming I die.

So how do I take this, really? Clairvoyance? "the ability to gain information about an object, person, location or physical event through means other than the known human senses". I am very, very skeptical. Not believing in anything super-natural at all* really puts a fucking damper on my perspective of this. I'm trying not to think about it. As a mater of fact, writing about it right now is the last time we're going to talk about it.


I got stuck in the mud for 5 hours. I have documented this amazing event in comic format. However, it's all written in a little sketch-book of mine which I cannot scan. You will have to forgive the poor quality of it.

Just in case you missed the link to it, here it is once more.


*still afraid of ghosts, real or not ):

Nocturnal Beauty

Windy, kind of cold, maybe a broken ankle (or two?), and possibly a horrible tick infestation that will never go away(!!)

But so incredibly worth it.

For those who never get the chance

I'm tapping my fingers on everything around me, waiting. I'm not sure for what. I haven't slept in days, really, and things aren't where I thought they would be. I can either pretend and be miserable. Or be honest and be miserable. It's quite a deal I've worked out here! If only misery was more enjoyable.

The sad fact is though, that no matter how I cut it, I'm in love. And while I keep swallowing these pills and waiting for results, I can't help but notice that I'm independently realizing a lot. One thing being that no amount of pills will ever change the reason I'm in love, and that reason will probably always exist.

However, I am feeling more comfortable with myself. I finally understand what 'you might not be as cute as him but your personality more than makes up for it' meant. It had really kind of secretly upset me at the time because I could only focus on the 'you're not as cute as' part, but now I find solace in you telling me how much you liked being around me, even if you didn't use those words. I'm realizing that I'm worth being in love with, or I was. I'm happy with the fact that you did honestly love me, and I'm happy that I got that chance to be with you for as long as I did. I took a lot away from that relationship, even if I'm just now realizing it. Sure, we made each other very happy, and I'm sure we could make each other happy again, but even if we never do I should be focusing on the fact that we got to share that in the first place. Yeah, it's definitely a loss, and I hope it won't always be one, but if it has to be, then it has to be. I told you I wouldn't talk to you for a month after the first pop, but it's very difficult when I am actually honestly feeling good about myself and really want to share that news with you. I think you would appreciate it, if you'd let yourself.

I know I've said it several times. I fell in love with someone who is an amazing person. Someone who I think will always be an amazing person. Someone that I believe in and can have fun doing nothing with. But I think that when I'm myself, I'm pretty cool too, and I think the fact that someone who I find amazing saw that in me gives me more hope than anything else that I'm going to be OK. Sure, things are bad, but maybe if I try hard enough I can make things better again. For everyone I love. But most importantly, for me.


I know it really might not matter much, but I'm finally ready.

Art & Love

This is probably the best time in my life, artistically. I have about eight really really good opportunities. I'm hoping they make me happy like they should.

It's funny, no matter how many pills I swallow they'll never make you less beautiful. This is your curse though, not mine.

frank m. ahearn

The stress won't go away. It's constantly here now and there's not a fucking thing i can do to stop it. it's getting worse and it's killing me in more ways than one.

i've never really felt like a failure before. i really thought i'd never honestly give up hope. i'm at the very end of my rope, and i'm tired of this constant stomach pain. i'm sick of vomiting. i can't sleep or eat without feeling ill.

i don't care anymore about things. i just want to feel ok again. it's all i want. it's really all i want. and all the ways i know how to feel okay and get by are gone. i feel like i get in the way. so i'm going to move out of the way for awhile.


pat, i trust you and i believe you, even though you lied to me. if you don't think i'm worth knowing or worth being around, then i think you're right. i'm going to go fix that.

(and btw, i was working on a comic for you. i lie and say that it's only for myself, but it's really for you. only the first part was going to be about you though, the rest was about my grandma. she said she really really wanted to meet you when i saw her last and told her about you, and i told her that i thought you guys would get along great but she got sick two days after and then died. i kind of haven't been able to forgive myself for that, even though i know it's not my fault. she was the only one who was really OK with me being a faggot. she was my secret best friend. anyway i'll never finish it because no one is really going to give a shit about it, especially you. the sad part is, i think working on it was the only reason i didn't do this earlier.)


i'm going to go try and breathe again now

Make me feel like i belong

because I don't, really.

I can't sleep. At all. Despite the fact that I really want to. I've replaced sleeping with being super anxious and nervous. But what I lack in courage I make up for in being pathetic.

It really doesn't matter what I say or do or try, I still feel uncomfortable, almost all the time. It's probably just me, but I don't think I belong here. I really don't feel like I belong, and I don't think that's something you can teach. And this sinking feeling, it doesn't get better. I'm tired. And not from a sleepless thirty-six hours.

I've tried everything, but realizing that you have nothing is kind of fucked. Please, save me.

Which is different, and more important

"We're just going to lose. What is that going to do to us? Does that not have a fucking price tag attached to it?"

"It will wreck us. It will be viciously costly."

"Wouldn't it be better just to quit now?"

"NO. Because we will be OK if we fail. We will get up and we will be OK someday. Not soon, but someday. But if we give up now then we will never, ever be okay because a) we will never be the people we want to be and b) we will not have done all the things worth doing."

"I want to do something worth doing, it's just so fucking scary, it's so fucking scary I'm so fucking scared.. Because I know that this is it for me, for this."

"Yeah I'm totally fucking terrified. You know why? Because we're putting ourselves out there in a big way for maybe the first time, and it's terrifying, because we know that they won't accept us. So let's FUCKIN DO IT."

"..are you really drunk?"

"Completely fucking smashed."

"I can't believe that there's a nightmare

on my street!"

The remake, or rather, reimagining of A Nightmare on Elm Street was pretty great. Reviewers will tell you otherwise, though, but that isn't something rare to the genre. It's pretty much expected.

It was by no means perfect, and in my mind didn't quite live up to the original, but the 1984 version of the film is kind of wedged into my heart pretty deep. Haley did not fall short as Freddy, and as a matter of fact, I'd say he did a fucking fantastic job. My issues with the film as a whole are somewhat 'minor', but they're enough to make a stark difference in my mind. For example, I had been led to believe that one of the biggest reasons for doing this reboot was to get Freddy away from being a wise-cracking killer. They do a good job of that, until the end of the film where Kruger gets a little dialogue heavy and starts to have that air of Englund about him.. the only difference being that it feels a lot more out of place with this Freddy than it ever did with Englund.

The first half of the movie literally had my heart racing, which almost never happens, and if it does, it's not for the length of time that it was. The suspense building that others will criticize as being 'expected and tired' is something that I applaud as feeling fresh. Part of that might be my knowing and expecting characters to die at a certain point, but that feeling should have been there with everyone, having seen the original or not. It's kind of just a goddamn genre thing. It got to me, and that doesn't fucking happen anymore, so I really just loved feeling uncomfortable again, like when I was a kid. Maybe it was just me though?

Of my two big problems with film, one was the use of CG at two particular parts that.. were really unnecessary. They should have just used spandex like they did in '84, and it would have looked great and been real. The other issue, and this might be a spoiler, is that the homage-death for our Tina character was very lackluster when compared to the original. I love watching a girl float around a room and get throw into the walls to the sounds of her back breaking just as much as the next guy, but.. I feel like I would have loved watching her get drug around the room in a far darker, bloodier, grisly mess (GRANTED this trick was done in the original movie and then AGAIN in Wes Craven's New Nightmare, but still.. the part felt like it wanted to be that scene, but didn't hit the mark).

So other than being a nit-picky fan-boy? Pretty great. I'd love to hear what other fans of the series, and genre, thought of it.

Convincing Myself

I keep lying and telling myself that the largest piece of motivation behind this project isn't just an excuse to talk to you again. I mean, the project itself means more to me than that, it really means everything to me right now. It's everything that's been plaguing and curing me for what has almost been a year, and maybe then some. It is about the important things in my life and what I've actually learned through all of this. But I can't pretend that an extremely important part of all of this was my relationship to you. And to my knowledge, you've only one out standing promise to me, and I hope you keep it.

I can already hear the horrible things that will be said about me once this is actually made public. I'm trying not to care, I really am, because this is more to me than anyone will know. Except, maybe you. And part of me is hoping that way.

I'm not going to lie to myself, and after I've tried every last thing I possibly can, I can look back and say "I was nothing but honest", and mean it. And then I will sit here, in love with you and alone, and read my book.

"He doesn't want us to cut through our chains

He wants us to cut through our feet." (And you know fucking good and well that we're doing it.)

It doesn't get easier, it's not a secret. You can't change how you feel in an instant, and sometimes you never can. Nothing can make it any less real, and it's those moments of reality that make the rest of it worth it. Sometimes we're just forced to live with pain, regardless of how much sense it makes. And all I can do is take that pain and try to make something worthwhile out of it. And I'm working on something I would call very worthwhile to me. It will probably upset a lot of people once it's out there and they see it, but I can't help but not really give a fuck. If it's what I have to do to feel something real again, then it's what I'm going to do.

In the mean time, I'm falling in love with pretty people and drawing them, poorly. This first boy's eyes were so beautiful that I would never be able to do them justice.

The second boy here has this thin, perfect neck that if I talk about for too long you might think me crazy.

(larger version upon click)

So far I'm not doing a good job masking the feeling of wanting to slit my throat*. It doesn't get easier, but I hear that if you wait long enough it does end.



*metaphor, you idiot

While You Slept

I try to keep business and pleasure separate. This being one and this being the other. However, from time to time I feel the need to bridge the gap between East and West. Soon and very soon we'll be a lot more business-y, all up ins, with a nice retrospective of some of my favorite slasher flicks and why I love 'em. But for now, I'm trying to help myself for once. Here is your repost, entitled:

Of Surreal Sincerity

" Sometimes I don't resonate with people. Sometimes things get downright livid. But there is a silent calm that comes after a fit of rage, and it's in this calm that realization always happens. They're the moments that a person can write off those finals chapters of life and end it all the easier way. They're the moments when it's so easy to abandon all hope.

It's an avalanche, if you'll allow that of me. Speaking directly about slaughtering yourself, it's never the last thing that happened. It's a misconception that a lot of people get strung up in. Ted down at the lumber mill one day up and offs himself, and the first question you hear on people's lips is "Why'd he do it?", but they don't really want to know. They want to know what 'pushed him over the edge', that exact phrase will always come up if you let it. But it's usually not that simple. It's an avalanche.

I understand that this point could be conveyed very simply by saying 'it's a lot of things that build up over time', but something gets lost in that. Some people come home to find their wife banging the pool cleaner, so they go out to the shed and find something sturdy. But some people don't get triggers like that. Some people are pushed so slowly out of bounds, that all it takes is for the weatherman to lie to you one more goddamn fucking time and-- We appear to have digressed again, because you opted for it.

As I was saying, realization always happens in these moments, but it isn't limited to being so morbid. Sometimes we can get a glimpse into everything we've ever known and wanted. Sometimes we receive extreme sincerity, and I don't mean something harsh like 'brutal honesty'. These are moments that are real. These are things worth walking away with. Sometimes the ends do justify the means.

What am I walking away from? And with? And where the fuck am I going to go now? This isn't quite over, and I will explain that in more painfully cryptic detail soon, I promise. But the feeling of the end being soon is there. In that same breath, though, I have a feeling this is not quite the end yet. We have to finish finish The Final Chapter before we can even think about starting A New Beginning. "

I hope we all get along.

Zuma's Revenge

"I just feel bad that he's being used in that way. And it bothers me that he's been pegged so wrong."
"I know. He's by no means a bad person. I think he's alright, really."
"I think he's a good person. Definitely worth talking to, different from everyone else I know."
"Oh, thanks."
"I didn't mean it that way."
"So is that why you love him?"
"..."
"What, did I strike a nerve?"
"No, I'm just trying to concentrate on this shot"
"Well you missed."

Ugh

My life.