Thursday, October 28, 2004

Perhaps its because i'm staring at my....

I remember reading in reader's digest a while back that Americans, when polled on where they seem to think the best, responded for the most part, "the toilet". Things are a bit different for me, I tend to do my best thinking in the shower. But the bottom line is, we seem to think our best when we're fully exposed, and staring down at our genitals.

Perhaps the unraveling freedom of a dangling penis, or the airy whispers brushing upon an unclad crotch, promote a likewise freedom of the mind. Or perhaps its the unparalleled beauty of our reproductive organs that reminds us of elevated existance and beckons us to shed all forms of solipsism as we chart new territory and draw new maps of the world around us. Or maybe we are rendered into a trance-like state of sorts, as we stare at our fully exposed organs and think, "wow i don't see this often enough". Whatever the case may be, our penises and our vaginas are inspirational in more way than one.

We don't pay enough tribute to our reproductive organs. Japan has a whole day of tribute dedicated towards the phallic beauty of the penis. They carve out wooden penises and revere them for their beautiful structure and mushroom-like granduer. Then they go home and fuck like chipmunks. Why must Japan always seem to get things so right? Lets all from time to time take time to give respect to our organs... Shave, pamper, groom, caress. Do whatever you have to do to let your penis or vagina know, you love it.

Wednesday, October 27, 2004

I must resist the temptation to kill

"~ 2dAe gO AcM okIE LoR ~ bT BoRiNg oSO ~ gO 4 ThE ThIrd TiME OrEaDI ~ aLL thE SaME ~ nO cHaNgeS ~ a bIt loNeLY cOZ PoH geoK nV CUm ~ Bt lUcKy loR RosE AccOmPAny me ~ PLan 2 Go LiB WiF pOh gEoK ~ bT dEn iT rAiN ~ sO PlaN CAncEL ~ pLaN 2 Go hM wIF RosE Oso ~ bT dEn ShE dUnO gO wHERe ~ So gO hM ALoNe ~ DeN C HIm ~ HaIz ~ As uSual ~ Nv tOk ~ BoTh aCt LyK sTraNgerS Lyk tAt ~ sEeMS LyK eVErItHiNg WeNt wRonG 4 Me 2dAe ~ WaT a BaD Dae ~ TmL gT CoUnciLLoR MEeTiN ~ HahAha ~ Me nT GoIn ~ nT CuMiNg 2 sCh oSO ~ sLaCk At hM dO NTh ~ oR mAyB gOiN oUt ~ Nt sUre ~ MuZ CoNFiRm Wif the rEst ~ YeSh ~ TmL N GoIn 2 C Him ~ HaPi ~ Bt sAd Oso ~ GoIn mIz HiM ~ WaNdEr WeN Li sHuAn GoIn gIv uS th OpHiR Pic ~ Hope aSaP lOr ~ SuMoRe fRi lAsT DaE OF ScH ~ LeFt oNi A 2 mORe dAE ~ dEn jUz nw mIZ HoNg TeLL sUm Of US The cLass WhIch wE gT IntO ~ bT Me LaZy 2 NoE ArH ~ JuZ WaIt tiLL fRi ~ Bt fRoM wAt i HeAr ~ ThEy SaE Me Go E1 ~ Bt mE nO cOnfidENcE LeH ~ mE TinK me gO e2 ~ HmMm ~ DuNo laH ~ bt iF ReALLy Go E1 me dIe ~ WiF Tat lioN heAd AgAin ~ Nt me oNi I TinK GoIn 2 Die ~ ThE WhoLe clAsS of E1 nxT YR GoIn 2 dIe ~ SuMoRe If sHe tHe cHaiRmaN AgAIn ~ Or Gt tHe BEhAvIoUr aWaRD ~ mE KiLL TaT TEaChEr ArH ~ sTuPid dUnO hW 2 chOSe ~ SuRe USe tHE BUtToCk dEN eYes ~ Hope Tis WoN'T HaPpEn nXt"

At first i thought this was some sort of computer programming language. Upon further examination, it turns out to be the shit the flows through this breezy bitch's head. And i see this all too often. This bullshit is sprouting up everywhere. It takes more time to type like this than it does TYPING NORMAL FUCKING SENTENCES. So if you're gonna take the time out to type like that, I'd hope you're trying to come across with some kind of statement. Apparently the statement is, "I'm a dumb breezy bitch that would rather butcher the English language than come across as a decent, cognitive, intelligent individual". fUck mY aSs ~~~

Tuesday, October 26, 2004

A stranger sparking random conversation is not being friendly, he's just crazy

I dunno how it is with other parts of the country, but here in LA, if a random stranger comes up to you and sparks conversation, chances are he's off his fuckin rocker. Maybe in a small town, mingling with strangers is the norm, you're probably considered a crazy anti-social bastard if you don't. But here it's a whole different story. Unless you have a real good reason to talk to someone, you just can't start talking to them. That's crazy. You could ask for the time, but that's it. Say thanks and get back to conversing with yourself in the privacy of your own head.

I was at SMC today, and some black dude just started talking to me. Now black dudes, for some reason, can do that and not be considered crazy. I guess it's because they're black and can do anything they want, and thats why i love them. But at the same time, no black dude is just gonna spark up a conversation with little white me, so i knew something was up. Sure enough, something was up. This dude was going off on how he had to break the stereotype and become an "educated black man" in America. I felt this was my cue to spark up some sort of intellectual conversation, because I sure as fuck didn't want to hear him spout off about his ambitions and overcoming the oppressive foot of the white man. So I asked him if he thought that the overall lack of education within middle class black america was because of a self-fullfilling prophecy in which the african americans inadvertantly adhered to the stereotype of being uneducated. He was like "nah man there's just alot of dumb ass niggas out there". Rofl.

Then he goes back to talking about how he loves math. I told him I was an English man myself. He goes on talking about how he loves math. He decided to start quizzing me on my math skills. "what's the biggest three digit number?" he asks me. I respond 999. He's like "alright alright, you know you're shit". Rofl. He's like "If i'm 26, what decade am i in?". I paused and thought about it. I dont' fucking know and i don't care - is what i thought. But i respond, "second". He's like, "WRONG.. third decade, 1-10 is first, 10-20 is second, 20-30 is third. I'm well into my third decade". I guess i just refrain from cluttering up my head with pointless shit like that. This dude obviously thought, since i'm going to SMC, that i'm some sort of retard that would hold him in high reverence for his mathematical mastery.

He then proceeded to read me 6 pages, SIX PAGES, of an letter he wrote to the school board because he was reprimanded twice in the library for leaving his orange juice on the desk near a computer, so they kicked in out but he made a big fuss so they called the campus cops on him and the board took away his computer privledges. He read 6 pages to me, SIX PAGES. Why am i such a pussy? I just sat there and blanked out and sparked up a cigarette while people around the library looked at me, then him, then me, then asked themselves "wtf is wrong with THAT picture". I dunno if its cuz i'm a pussy or I have a problem telling black people how i truly feel, because they're black - but either way it all comes back to me being a pussy. But it's okay, i'm a pussy but at least i'm not crazy. Like this dude. He was a nice guy though.

Monday, October 25, 2004

Undiagnosed Stupidity vol. 1 - The Blame Game

I'm a forgetful person. Yes, I've even been forgetting shit before I decided to do a full on assault on my braincells starting around junior year of my high school career. Now, I understand that my forgetfullness may be upsetting to many, but it's always astounded me at how quickly people will blame me or others for forgetting something. Let us stop and ponder upon this case of undiagnosed stupidity. Can one truly remember to remember? Of course not, memories are simply sparked. Regardless, stupid people act as if forgetting was an actual process the person was partaking in, so lets blame him for it! Forgetting is not a process, it's a lack of one. It's simply not remembering. So ladies, please stop blaming me for forgetting your birthdays. First of all, guys don't give a shit about this whole "remembering birthdays" thing, we don't care when you were born, the point is, you were born... When your birthday comes around, tell me, I'll celebrate it with you gladly, no need to prow my mind looking for what will never be found. Besides, I didn't forget your birthday, my brain did.

See that's another thing that bothers me when on this whole subject of blame. People have separated the person from the brain. It's like they'll hold the person responsible for everything they do, without taking into account that they have a brain with a different composition, which doesn't fucking work like theirs! Acknowledging brain chemistry as playing a factor in one's decisions may induce sympathy, which is exactly what you don't want to feel when you're trying to blame the fucker. But there is no separating the person and the brain, the person is the brain. Unless you're blaming their soul or some crazy shit like that, and then you're just gay.

So what about blaming people for being stupid? As Forrest Gump says, stupid is, stupid does. God Forrest you're a fucking genius. Look, if a person is stupid, they're stupid. They are incapable of thinking "smart" thoughts. If they could think smart things, they would think smart things, but they can't, therefore they are stupid. So why blame someone for their inability to think thoughts that would be deemed as being "smart"? If a smart thought doesn't occur, then it doesn't occur, so fuckoff on blaming the poor little retards.

Everybody is so obsessed with what someone "should have done"... This is undiagnosed ignorance and pure metaphysical bullshit. Really, it is. Look back on any point in time in your life and ask yourself, "could I have done any different?". The answer is, of course. But then think to yourself, "WOULD i have done any different?". Why would you have done any different given the very same set of variables your were faced with that day? Same variables, same outcome. So why obsess over what could have happened if its absurd to think it would have happened?

On a side note - same variables, same outcome... Is this to imply that we're nothing but mathematical equations with legs? Robots with skin? Is this to imply that, as absurd as it may sound, that we're not so in charge of our destiny? Give us X and we're bound to give you Y? That's for you to decide. But of course, nature already has its answer.

Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris murdered their classmates at Columbine high school and immediately blame was scattered. Fingers were pointed at Marilyn Manson for his macabre lyrics and image, the video game Doom was blamed for its surreal violence, accusations were thrown at the teenager’s parents for negligence, but not once was it explicitly said that these two kids murdered on the self-chosen accord of their own free will. Yet when assigning responsibility it is assumed that despite any influences, one acts freely in this given sense. Is it possible, however, that these teenagers were not as free as we’d like to believe?

Society very much likes to have things explained, especially when it comes to what makes us tick. We like to know how our bodies work, what causes mental illness, what determines sexual preference, what causes depression, addiction, intelligence, obesity, etc. It is understood that schizophrenics are the way they are because of a malfunctioning of the brain, and vietnam vets who underwent traumatic experiences on the field are often sympathetically reffered to as being, “not right in the head”. In essence, the effects of biology and environment on the individual are being scrutinized from every angle, classified and written in textbooks, and we tend to hail such understandings of our nature as being a triumph of the scientific world.

Yet when it comes to explaining what made the kids at Columbine commit their crime, the blame ultimately falls on their self-chosen accord despite their influences. Is this an explanation? It’s impossible to know every biological impetus that influenced the kids at Columbine, or every environmental factor that caused them to plot their crime, but if these factors were entirely understood they would render the children’s sense of morality as being superfluous. To map out every biological urge and how it was felt, or to identify every environmental influence and how it was interpreted, would be to understand precisely what didn’t cause the children to do as they should have done. In this regard, it is no wonder why Stephen Pinker of M.I.T once concluded that, "Science and morality are separate spheres of reasoning. Only by recognizing them as separate can we have them both...".

To paint a more vivid picture, recently I was incarcerated for 60 days at Theo Lacy Correctional Facility for drug possession. I would like to believe, in a certain sense, that if history rewound itself I could have acted differently in my given situation despite my every influence. After all, I was entirely free to not do drugs, and I was entirely free to go about my life in a healthy manner in accordance with the law. There were many things I could or should have done differently but my so called will, free to act differently, was essentially pulled in another direction. Some would criticize me for having a weak will, but this criticism in itself ignores an important point. Why should my will be so strong in the first place as to fight off a felt temptation? Temptations that those who point their fingers at me never experienced in all probability, yet those who have felt such urges would sympathize with my plight. Those who give their nod to me, as if to say, “I understand, you’re not alone” are essentially absolving me from blame, because in a very personal sense they understand. To understand And it would seem entirely irresponsible for me to suggest that I, in my given situation, was a victim of my own biology and circumstance. This of course undermines the concept of what I should have done, but isn’t what one “should have done” always undermined by what actually occurred?
Yet so many attempt to integrate what one should have done with what actually occurred. The former being a relevant map backed by scientific and causal explainations and the latter branching out into the realm of morality. So much seems to rest on dabbling in this moral world.

If I were on fire, I'd probably just keep on running and flailing my arms...

GODDAMNIT. I had a friggin masterpeice here, i mean it. I hit a button, and its fuckin gone. And yeah, i know what you're thinking... "sure greg, it was a masterpeice, that's easy to say since we'll never see it"... But goddamnit, it was a masterpeice, and it can never written again, well at least not for a while. I'm sad =(

Sunday, October 24, 2004

Richard Gere's overly confident gaze which speaks of undeniable sexiness, despite his having gray hair

Okay ladies and gents, I'm not gay or anything, but you really don't have to be to notice Richard Gear's overly confident gaze which speaks of undeniable sexiness, despite his having gray hair. I was watching the Jackal the other day, boring fucking movie, but Richard Gere was in it. Okay that last sentence may have come out wrong, just so it's not misconstrued - I'm not saying I watched the movie because Richard Gear was in it, nor am I saying that Richard Gear being in the movie was like some sort of conselation to make up for how fucking boring the movie was... I'm just saying Richard Gere was in the movie, k?

But whaaaa the fuuuuck is up with that gaze? You know what i'm talking about people. In the movie, he was even looking at guys with that fucking look slapped across his face. Was he sitting there one day thinking, "I got voted best looking man in America, and in order to uphold my image, I'm gonna stare at every person i see with a look that captures "Richard Gereness" in its entirety, in hopes to imbue them with a sexiness that turns prudes to rapists, pre-pubescants to ball-droppers, nuns to nymphos... For I am Richard Gere, and I have... "the gear". So he went the mirror and practiced cringing his eyes slightly, curving his lips to a slappably smug smile of contentment, widening his pupils to serve as a peephole into the "essance of his sexy soul"...and he stared and stared... imagining his eyes were like lazer beams piercing the hearts of post-menopause housewives and kitten collecting widows, and in his most conceited moments, even desiring to pierce the heart of gay men all over America. Cuz yes, he is Richard Gere folks, the hottest man in America, and he comes prepared with an overly confident gaze which speaks of undeniable sexiness, despite his having gray hair

But I gotta admit, he knows the rules of the game. There's alot of science involved in a gaze. It's primal shit people. Just a simple look can produce PEA in the brain, a chemical responsible for feelings of lust. As a matter of fact, any scientific nerd who gets no females will tell you that the best way to get females is through eye contact. That and having a huge dick. Not all of us have huge dicks, but we all got eyes. So, knock em down tiger, just don't be gay like Richard Gere.

fathers, bring me your daughters... daughters, bake me a friggin pie

So what the hell is there to talk about? I don't feel like talking shit right now, but if i don't feel like talking shit, well... I don't have very much to say now do I? I could talk about myself, but if I don't feel like talking shit about myself then I don't have very much to say about myself now do I? Yeah yeah I know, on this blog I come off as incredibly pissy and ill-tempered, as if I were the type of guy who goes around looking for shit to hate, and then, upon finding a something to despise, spends the rest of my days hating it until I move on to bigger, duller, shit-strewn pastures. Well no, this is not the case.

I don't actually find things to be pissed off at, they simply slap me in the face and say, "hey greg, look at me! I'm a completely fucking absurd notion that people seem to have no problem with!" Now, most people spend their days being pissed off at politics... My pissiness is all-encompassing, it is unrelenting in the face of unrelenting absurdity. Such absurdities as wearing towels over one's head, agreeing with Bush even after he semi-admitted to being wrong, hating homosexuals, worshipping invisible shit in the sky, goths, gutter punks, the music industry, nigger culture, white trash culture, people who refuse to masturbate because it's a "sin", sin, conservatives who hate liberals, liberals who hate conservatives, babies, people who thank God everytime something good comes their way, people who forget to thank God everytime something bad comes their way, fat bitches who embrace themselves a little bit too much, fat bitches who continue scarfing down big macs because they embrace themselves a little bit too much, fucking pussies, girls who shove gigantic dildos up their pussies, men who treat women like shit, women who love men who treat them like shit, the smell of shit... the list goes on people.

In all fairness though, I think i need to mention a few things I love, so I'm not mistaken for some cold bastard with nothing but stolidity in his heart. I got plenty of love to share. I love penile stimulation, the smell of night... okay fuck being fair I love alot of shit I just don't feel like listing it all. Look you little turds, I'm a big fucking teddy bear okay? I'm just one, big fucking teddy bear who likes to dish out socio-political commentary tinged with excessive profanity and marked by an utterly pretentious tone. So bite me, I still love you. Bitch.

Friday, October 22, 2004

Listen you worthless flesh pile of fragility and tears, nobody appreciates your poetry but you

Stop crying bitch. Hey, you, yeah you... the one with that shaggy mop you call hair drapped down over your right eye... look, i know you need an "outlet of creativity", I know you need to "express yourself", but just because you speak the English fucking langauge doesn't mean you have the right to write poetry, because you suck at it.

Oh, you do it for yourself? I'm so sure of that queertots, thats why you feel the urge to post every brilliantly obscure piece of crap you call a poem on your blog, checking up every hour to see what stranger may stumble upon your horde of indelibly inked profundity and hail you the next emo-fag shakespear. 0 comments? What a surprise... Keep clawing at them with your shards of emotion, tiger!

Ya see, anybody can write bad poetry. All you need to do is stagger a completely obscure sentence that somehow reflects, with perfect symmetry, that unbearable well of negative emotion you've been plagued with ever since you gave up on life and resolved to be a overly sensitive fag. Watch me try it.

Ya see
I can take
A sentence such

And waste

So that's the first part of writing horrible poetry. The second part is, of course, being completely fucking obscure. See, obscurity personalizes the piece... It tells others, this is my emotion, I'm gonna shroud my very personal emotion in this incoherent cloud of very personal symbology, and in essence, leave you out of the loop of understanding - but nevertheless, i'm gonna post this piece and hope you understand. Watch me try it.

Withered espers
Sinless frailty
Whispered echoes
In souless communion
We dance

Perfection spent
Living upon the night
Mercy unfolds

What does this all mean? Beats the fuck out of me. But I"m sure to the fag, it would serve as a very nice representation of "*choke* when my *choke* tears meet the paper *choke choke*."

Thursday, October 21, 2004

Everybody please write comments for my blog so I know people are reading it, and please don't make fun of me or anything just write good things

Okay listen up guys. I pour my heart and soul into this blog, and what do I get into return? Silence. Am I writing to a wall??

Hey dudes, I'm a reasonable kind of guy, I know you're busy and all, with your girlfriends and your friends and RL (real life), but I really put alot of effort into this blog. I do it for you guys, I want to give you something special. That something special is a part of me, and my life. We're nothing without someone around to acknowledge us, and sometimes... well... sometimes... I just feel like I'm nonexistant! The first thing I do when I wake up is check my blog for comments, and what do I normally see? 0.

Am I not good enough for you guys!? What about that time when I pretended like I was writing in a diary, but I was really blogging, but I was making fun of how blogging is kind of like writing in a diary. Nobody wrote any comments, but that was a funny rollicking satire I thought. Okay, so maybe satire is too sophisticated, so what did I do? I rolled up my sleeves and brought out the funny cannons... Funny in the hole!!

So I started talking about overweight african american girls, and how one of them didn't want half of a subway sandwitch because she felt the subway diet was for overweight people. I didn't receive comments, did you guys get that one? If you didn't, let me explain it so you can think its as funny as i thought. You see, she was the overweight one, but she was saying the subway diet was for fat people! Hahaha. I think it's the irony that made that one funny, but it's okay if you didn't get it, lots of people have trouble understanding what exactly irony is.

Or what about the time I made a little poem on masturbation. Okay guys, you got me - I'll admit that sometimes, I'm prone to being a bit overly ribald in my quest to jitter your comfort zones and *SHOCK* you into hilarity! But I thought the grotesque ploy was justifiable in its lewdness because it made up for it in funny factor! But no comments....

I know I know, it was too immature right? What then people? What do I have to do to make you laugh?

Comment and let me know!!!!

Hey everybody, it's time for me to piss people off!

"But I never thought I'd see the day when leaps of faith would be national policy, when the fortunes of America hung on the possibility of a miracle.

What does it tell you about a president that his grounds for war are so weak that the only way he can justify it is by believing God wants it? Or that his only Iraq policy now - as our troops fight a vicious insurgency and the dream of a stable democracy falls apart - is a belief in miracles?


The president has this strange notion that his belief in God means detailed and perfect knowledge of everything that God wants. He may wish to keep his head stuck in the Iraqi sand, but he may discover that the Almighty has His own purposes."

-Maureen Dowd

So there's two things that really bug me, organized religion and the Bush administration. Put the two together and i'm lighting up a molatov coctail ready to throw it at Bush's cocaine sniffin dome. But most people don't understand why I'm so opposed to organized religion. I guess I baffle them because I don't slash my wrists, I don't listen to cannibal corpse, I don't dress in all black, and I don't worship Satan. Woah wtf, what is this kid's problem with religion then? Besides the fact that religion has thrown a wrench in the progression of intellectual and scientific evolution? I guess people like Bush is my fucking problem with religion!

Religion keeps brainwashed fundies such as Bush out of touch with the secular world. It sets unscrutinized boundaries on one's intellect because after all, God's will must not be questioned. While this can be seen as ignorance, it is something far worse - it is a claim to hold a monopoly on the truth. Yes folks, time to shut off our brains, we have the truth. So the Protestants have the truth over the Catholics, the Anglicans have the truth over the Baptists, the Baptists have the truth over the Mormons and the... Oh wait, aren't these all offshoots FROM THE SAME FUCKING BIBLE? See what 2000 years does on "the truth"?... But oh wait there's more! This truth has no secular foundation, nono, it takes faith! Faith, ya know, the cognitive evolutionary offspring of hope, the difference being that, at least with hope, we acknowledge that we may be lying to ourselves. In God we trust? No, in God we hope.

As Jesus said, "one must believe like a child". That's all we need, a doctrine promoting child-like faith to parallel the child-like ignorance of half the population of the world... Thank you Jesus for admitting it. Faith is believing like a child, in other words - fuck reading the fine print, just sign your name on the dotted line and you'll be in heaven in no time. Damn God, if you're gonna send me to hell for not believing in you, at least throw me a frickin bone!

This is all we need in society, more euphamisms... Let's replace the word "hope" with "faith". Let's replace the word "supernatural" with "spiritual". Then, lets tell anybody without "spiritual faith" that they're fucking absurd. Am I missing out on something here? Since when does my lack of supernatural belief make ME the crazy one? I guess to the ignorant, the amount of believers in the world is somehow equatable to the validity of the belief itself. "Hmm, there are more Christians in the world than Muslims and Jews, I guess Christianity is the right one!!!" In that vein of logic, there are more stupid people that smart people in this world, I guess stupid is the new smart!

Lets update the times people. We're slaves to organization and structure, but lets not get so lazy as to affiliate ourselves with such intellectual convenience. We're only relinquishing what we revere most - our ability to think freely, to adhere to what others thought for us... I guess, somewhere in the quest for spirituality, humans lost sight of their innocent intentions; we became sidetracked as our quest for meaning and spiritual fullfillment gave way to unfounded claims of truth that has pitted man against man for centuries. We're not brother and sister under God, we're divided, united under a myriad of Gods. This wasn't the point of religion, but it has become the point. So I guess I'm forced to ask, what ever happened to that concept called spirituality? I guess it dissapeared when we started trying to extract truth out of religion, as opposed to fullfillment. I guess, it all shot to hell, when we started to consider faith as being a viable means to obtain that oh so precious truth.

Wednesday, October 20, 2004

Its hard work being lazy

My laziness faces the constant, impending doom of productivity. You'd think laziness would be a breeze. Just sit back with a fine cup of tea and wait for whatever task comes round to impose itself on my self-proclaimed paradise of tranquility and immobility, decide whether or not the task is of a life and death matter - if life, continue sipping my tea, if death... ehh, time for a nap. So you can see, it's not the easiest thing in the world being lazy. There is alot of mental calculations, weighing out the pros and cons, and inaction taking place. Yeah yeah, there will always be haters out there, saying that I'm a lazy ass and that I should start doing something. Look all yall hatorade drinking type A personality twats, I don't mean to get all philosophical on yo bitchasses but you can never actually be doing NOTHING. You're always doing something, like eating, or listening to music, or smoking a ciggarette, or sipping iced tea. So sorrry you're all jealous, but like i said... My laziness faces the constant, impending doom of productivity. And that's stress enough for me.

Imagine if you will, living in a world free from any sense of ultimate, moral responsibility. A world, in which the only form of finger pointing involves giving directions, and getting cut off on the road, albeit annoying, seems too inevitable to scream about. Murderers would be absolved of their murderous deeds, terrorists dismissed of their vengeful actions. In essence, the criminal would paint out to be as much of a victim as his very own, victim. It would be a strange and forgiving world, foreign enough to be the work of science fiction. Unless, you talk to the determinist, who would proclaim that such a world is far from science fiction - it's simply science, and we're the ones living in fiction.

Monday, October 18, 2004

Quick and to the pointless

Most musicians these days, in all their illustrious illusions of grandeur, will point a finger to the sky and shoot for the stars - only the land on the moon. Now, this isn't such a bad thing. Landing on the moon, mediocrity, whatever you want to call it, is an achievement in itself. But the irony comes when listening to the music. The artist, the self-proclaimed genius, sits guitar in hand, thinking of what brilliance flows through his cashed out veins and he contrives every dull note, mimicks every past idol, writes with his brain and not his heart, and in doing so becomes the entertainer and ceases to be the artist.

That's what we have in the industry today. A bunch of entertainers. But I've always been fond of the artist. Those who realize that you don't have to be an outcast to be an outcast. The people who just don't give a fuck when it comes to anything they do, and as a result, do everything the way they were born to do it, in the most unadulterated way possible. The kind that aren't afraid to push people away before they reel them in. Anyways, this will be my one and only half-hearted rant on the music industry, the rest is in the hands of the monstaah.

Thursday, October 14, 2004

Hey everybody, I'm a self-deprecating bundle of misdirected teenage angst!

I wrote a little poem today. Although i can't say I actually wrote it - I was merely a catalyst of profundity, as if the words were already arranged in some elusive lode of objective truth waiting to be mined. Well I mined baby, and this shimmering nugget of wisdom was digested on paper as of today: Wednesday of October 2004 or some shit. It goes a little something like this:

too bright...



Fucking brilliant. Listen to me you little goth quacks, I know you hate life. Life is a bitch sometimes, it'll kick you in your nads and raise your voice a whole octave... and while you plead with it to stop stomping on your nads in that high pitched tenor squeak you call a voice, it'll stomp on your nads some more, until you don't even give a shit that your balls are mangled beyond repair cuz you can't even muster up enough care in the first place to give a fuck about a fuck - cuz life will get you that down.

And you know what? That pain from your nuts may travel up your sides, penetrating your kidney and perhaps make you wanna puke. You know what you do then? Fucking puke, you'll feel much better. But you little shits aren't puking and moving on. When I puke, i wipe my mouth, gargle some water, clean off my shoes, and move the fuck on. But no, you guys are hobbling around grabbing at your balls like "oooh no, life kicked me in the balls, let me just savor this fucking pain... I hate myself so much, this pulsating pain that has resonated in my now-unidentifiable ballsack for years is the perfect nervous system accessory to go along with this self-deprecating pile of flesh and disgust I call a life".

What about when your pimpled ass has to get a job, what then huh? Oooh nooo, conformity. Pleeease, Mr. Normal, anything but conformity... You pathetic little turd. The only people that should be allowed to dress in all black are bonafied fucking ninjas... or priests. Hey kid, why don't you do yourself a favor and do what the song says... ya know, that one that's like "GRRRRRRR WRAAAAA KIIILLL YOOUR PAAARENTS GRRR WRAAAA". But lets spice things up a bit, before you do that, off yourself. Ya little freak of nature, you're not a church in the 14th century, the whole goth chapter of history has been closed. But you continue to give outcasts a bad name, I thought that could never be done...

Wednesday, October 13, 2004

the three little stem cell embryos

Once upon a time, there lived three little stem cell embryos. They lived quite happily in their underdeveloped existence, they'd laugh and swim and wave to one another through the jars. At night when the men in lab coats left the area, the stem cells would hop out of their confines and play with one another. They'd dash and dittle and twirl around in glee, hopping from petri dish to petri dish, seeing what they could see. Yet-to-be-life was great, but the big bad soul was lurking around.

One day, the wisest stem cell sat attempting to contemplate his own existance when he was interrupted by his brother. "Brother cell, brother cell, who is to save us from the big bad soul?" "Not now" said the wiser, "I've almost got it". "Almost got what?" replied brother cell. "I almost thought, and therefore was" claimed the wiser. "But we have bigger matters at hand than living" remarked brother cell, "if the big bad soul comes, we're gonna be dead!" This was true, and the wise cell was forced to acknowledge the pressing matters at hand. If to survive, they were to fortify.

All three stem cell embryos set out to find enclosures to keep the big bad soul at bay. The dumbest embryo of them all sought refuge in a zip-lock plastic bag. Brother embryo attempted to preserve his existance by settling in an airtight jar. The wisest embryo however, was bold and unafraid. Upon the shelves sat an array of scientific encyclopedias. The wiser took one off the shelf and perused through the pages. His brothers watched him in bewilderment, frightened by his vulnerability in the open. "Hey brother without a name!" they called, "seek shelter before it's too late!" Their request went unmet and they sat in amazement as their eldest brother hopped up on a page - and there he sat, with a smug smile on his face.

The big bad soul entered the room. It went took to the cabinets and immediately dished out the essence of what it was on unsuspecting cells. It didn't take very long before its gaze set on a sealed zip-lock bag, with a helpless cell shivering in fright. "Tangible existance?" boomed the soul. "You're trying to stop me with tangible existance?" The soul laughed an sinister laugh and penetrated the bag, dispersing the essence of its very being on the helpless little cell. It didn't take very long before the soul set its gaze on a sealed plastic jar with yet another shivering embryo. "Tangibility once again! How silly for you to think that your simple enclosure of atomic function will stop big, bad, me!" Once again, the embryo cell was imbued with the essence of a soul.

The big bad soul was delighted at his accomplishments and set our to find another lab, when his gaze was caught by a smiling embryo sitting on an encyclopedia. "Who are you that dares to face me face to face?" bellowed the soul. "I am, well let us not go there... The question is, who are you?" "Why I am the big bad soul" replied the big bad soul, "nobody can escape my permeance". The wiser stem cell laughed. "I'll cut you a deal" replied the cell. "Ya see the spine on this book? It has the letter "S" on it. Ya see where I'm sitting? I'm sitting on your name. Read your own passage, and if it says anywhere that you exist beyond a reasonable doubt, I'll let you have me".

The big bad soul quickly agreed, for certainly he must exist. He read through the passages, but nowhere did he find an affirmation for his own existance. "This can't be right!! I think therefore I... I think therefore I aaaa-, I think therefore...." Suddenly the soul writhed in pain, as if its very essence was peeled away by some unseen force of collective knowledge and reality. As quickly as the big bad soul came, the big bad soul left - dissapearing in a puff of logic.

The wisest stem cell embryo sat relieved. He felt he should mourn his brothers but there was nothing to mourn to begin with, so he stuffed his face in the encyclopedia, and got back to thinki....

What the fuck?

Hey check out this excerpt from this bitches blog:

"heyhey... woohoo... todae was the best day eva... ya boy!!!... hehe... yupz... todae was the day tt joy, phoebe, xinyi, farah, andrea, zheya, kellyn and jiawen did their marvellous dance... hehe... they choreographed it themselves... sweet... totally... hehe... lolx... anywayz... they were really really good... yupz... and if i am not wrong... theirs was the first item... i totally screamed my hearts out... hehe... yupyup... and the teacher's video was very funny... yet touching too... hehe... ya... ok... dunno wat to say anymore... unfortunately... i cannot write as much as my other bloggie's entry... so sad... and nikky's not feeling well... hopefully she will get better soon... hehe... yupz... tt is all i hafta say... hehe... outz... :D"

Omg bitch I can picture you in my head and i wanna fucking strangle you. You must be the breeziest, dumbest, most slappable azn bitch in existance. I bet you she's asain. They write like that all the time. I can't stand that shit. yupperz!! ya boyz!! Why do you bother living? You have nothing of value passing through that bundle of shitlike spaghetti you call a brain.

Do you really fucking think like that? "hmm, I want something to eat [pause] [pause] [pause] yeah boyz!!! Rice cripies... yummerz!! but capn krunch... sweet... yup yup... Kapn crunch, and milk... delicious... hehe... yumz!!!" I know with me personally, I write as I think... So you must really fucking think like that. You worthless fucking human. I want to pee in your butt. Your lack of intelligence astounds me... you actually think people are gonna read that wad of uncoherent shit that you call cognition? You stupid bitch. I bet if I'd slapped you, you'd be like "ouchz!"

Tuesday, October 12, 2004

Free from free-will

Okay kids, time to learn, and time for me to be a fucking nerd. Ya know, I gave a speech on free will vs. determinism in my speech class... Half the class was looking at me like i was talking about the wave-collapse function of a quark (har har!), the other half looked like they wanted to just hand me their fucking ears. But whether you give a shit or not, I say you should. This shit is liberating for me.

We go around thinking that everybody is completely 100% purely fresh-sqeezedly responsible for what they do. This is completely an illusion. Life can only play out one way, everything else is just a possibility. Some people realize this and call it Fate, but that's making it seem like there was some kind of planner. The planner turns out to be luck.

A roll of the die seems random, but upon a closer look, every edge of the die hits the the table at a precise angle, every atom is shaken in the very same way. From the start to the finish, it was determined to land on the number it was bound to land on - as if the entire process was a mathmatical equation with with the face of a die slapped on it. Sorry to break it to you folks but we're the very same way, just slap on some skin. How can we not be? Existance can only unfold in two possible ways. Either it could unfold in complete random chaos, where nothing is determined, or it can unfold precise, determined down to the very last atom. If nothing was determined, we'd be nonexistant soup. We're obviously not soup, so existence is determined.

Everything comes down to heredity and environment, and these two elements combined make up every slice of reality. The hand you're dealt is either lucky or unlucky. If life can only play out one way, with every other possibility being just that - a possiblity, how can anyone really be blamed for what they do? Everything comes down to the roll of the die.

It's a hard concept to swallow but it must be, however most people will have their cake and eat it to. Some would like to believe in fate and free-will, without realizing the two aren't compatible. We can look back at auto accidents and say "oh well, shit happens", yet separate the car from the person and all of the sudden they're 100% morally responsible for their actions. Why should "morally" even come up in the first place? An auto-accident is the outcome of a precise matter of cause and effect, but so is human behavior, the same holds true are our actions. This means, there is no such thing as a "murderer", just a brain that is determined by a series of cause and effect events that performed an act of murder. The act of murder was transient event, it's symbology crumbling thereafter. This is not to say that a murderer should not be locked up. Incarceration serves its structural purpose by keeping the "unlucky" ones away from the rest of society. But if the happenings of a child, who "unknowingly " pulled the trigger on another child is looked on as an passing of unfortunate events, when is it ever not? Bad luck is in the air when misfortune takes place but it's luck all the same - and if luck is exactly what it sonds like, luck, when can we ever escape it?

It is our mistake to think our future is undetermined, as if life could unfold to be anything but a linear chain of cause and effect. Our future may seem indetermined, but it is only unforeseen. If our past is determined, so is our future. Free-will is merely an illusion as we stand on the crux of our past and future. With unabashed ignorance we think that while everything is determined, we live somehow undetermined. The wisest of us all will look back upon the pieces of our history and realize that every regret exists in futility, and every resolve to change was determined by our past. Those who have shed the absurdity of free will realize that while we live as our choices are indetermined, intellect could provide greater insight. Then there are those who insist, that although the past wouldn't have turned out any other way, the future will be an exception. This is only a testement to the resilliance of the human mind, to fool itself so successfully into thinking that perhaps there are shades of grey to be found inbetween determined and indetermined events, and this shade if grey is free will. There is either determined or indetermined. So what is it, determined, or nonexistance?

Two Wongs don't make a white

If only I knew then what I know now. I was just thinkin earlier today how wrong I was in the past, and how right I am right now, only to be wrong again when my future self looks back, and thinks how right it is then, and how wrong I am now. But there isn't a single moment in time, when we think we're wrong, because even if we think we're wrong, we'd cease to be wrong and are made right. You'd think it'd be like a reminder as to how stupid we are, cuz you're always looking back like, damn I was stupid and shit. But it ain't. And then you get to thinking, with this in mind, as to how stupid other people are! cuz if you're stupid, what about other people? I just can't help to think how stupid other people are compared stupid old me, as illustrated by other people's blogs, and how stupid they are. If only stupid people were smart enough to realize they're stupid...

Random thought

To not question is to doubt - by not questioning, you are in acknowledgment that if you did question, a contradictory answer that is not pleasing may be found and therefore, doubt by not questioning in the first place.

Monday, October 11, 2004

Cmere kiddy kiddy kiddy...

So i pissed off a bunch of Christians today by suggesting that priests molest little boys because, well, where else are they gonna get some? Masturbation is a sin - wow a human that actually has a nocturnal emission - and they sure as hell aren't banging their wife... What's the next best thing? Altar boys! Penile stimulation is a requirement if you wanna be human, if you don't get it, sexual urges can build up until they blow... All over a little kids face. Oh God, i went there. I don't think I"m suggesting anything profound here... If you use your penis solely for urinary means, you're gonna rape little kids. It's thaaat simple.

But anyways... I give it up to all the priests in the world, they're wonderful people. Just lay off the kids, k?

People just don't give a shit about the homeless. And I don't blame them. I mean, I feel sorry for them and all, but if you're gonna try to beg some jingle from numero uno then lo siento old man, these centavos aren't for you. Your beg is neverending but my bank account is, so you need to step away from this transaction and take your B.O along with you. But what if a clean shaven bum who scored a bath came up to you and was like, "good day sir, could I pardon you for pocket ruffle?" And he said it in an accent that was all British and cool as shit. I probably wouldn't question his motives, I mean either he's a bum or he's fucking with me, but if he's fucking with me then thats some crazy ass shit. And only bums are crazy enough to do that kind of shit. So I'd be like "yeah sure, no problem man, hey did you say you were gonna get a bite to eat?" And we'd have a grand over conversation, the type of shit you see on the BBC, as we sit sipping tea and discuss our varied cultures.

excuse me ma'am, but you have a bit of cum on your ear

Masturbation is great.
Masturbation feels good.
Few things feel much better
Than plugging away at your wood.

So anyways, why is it such an ideal in society to be modest? Why must we masquerade the way we truly feel with humility and swallow our pride? Fuckit, I'm loyal to the truth. Modesty is downplaying what you are, conceit is playing what you think you are, and somewhere in the middle is what you are. So just flaunt what you got bitches. That's the way I see it. Why cover up those voluptuous breasts if they're begging to say hi? Why cover up those legs when I'd hump them quicker than a dog? Why cover up that bombolicious face? For Allah? Pfft I'll show you Allah. But please Shaqueeta, for you, drapes would be appropriate. Perhaps a smock or a moomoo. Or maybe you need a bit of Allah up in your heart, and a couple of rags over that mug. I'm sorry, do I come off as insensitive? I do? Oh well...

Chunky bitches help the gravitational pull of planet earth

I love watching the black people at SMC, especially the chunky bitches that think they're 10's on the hotornot scale - more like 10's on the Richtor scale, oooooh snaps! I remember one time this chic had a bit of subway left in her bag, so she hollered over to her chunky friend Shaqueeta like, "yo Shaqueeta, you want dis?". Shaqueeta was like "aww hell nah girl I don't need to be getting up on that Subway diet, I ain't no Miss Jared and shit". Damn Miss Piggy I'd like to know what you see when you look in the mirror. Here let me be your objective dictator of truth, you're fat. You need the subway diet, or perhaps a finger or two down the throat.

Call me superficial if you want, damn straight I'm superficial! I like looking at pretty things, things that make me smile. A fat bitch embracing her obesity doesn't make me think "oh dear you! How precious, she's overcoming her adversity by accepting herself!" That's alot of fucking self to accept.

Don't get me wrong I got love for my fat people, some of them just can't help it. But for Chrissakes, at least TRY... If Anna Nichole Smith did it, so can you.

I'm sorry, I had to

Someone once said, theres two types of people in this world, those who are cliche, and those who apologize for being cliche. So first off, I apologize for joining the herd of pretentious bloggers who think highly enough of themselves to assume that others are just brimming with excitement to get a peek into their geeky minds. I just had to do it. But I feel so gay for being a bloghog now, I mean let's face it, these things are just electronic diarys for those who think they're sneaking under the gaydar because they type their thoughts as opposed to penning them down in a book with flowery pages. But slap me silly and call me Susan because I have feelings too damnit!

Besides I have way too much fucking time on my hands. I mean, in between tapping one off in the shower and slogging down a cup of joe in the morning, I'd say my days are relatively free. Those who know me well know why I'm without freedom, but to those who don't know why, I won't bother explaining... bitches.

So let me tell you about my day today.. Oh wait, i'm sorry:

Dear Diary,

Today I woke up around twoish. I ate breakfast. I can't remember what I had, I probably had eggs and hash browns because that's my typical Sunday meal. Then I watched a bit of TV. I took a shower, toweled off, put my clothes on, and watched a bit more TV. I watched a bit of the Dodger game but I lost hope when a silly Mexican couldn't tell the difference between a ball and a strike. Then I went to the computer and listened to a bit of music. I like music. I decided to start up and blog and viola!!! Anyways, I'll be back tomorrow diary, don't go anywhere!! Smooches