Great Job Friends, There is a Hill

The time has come, all of my friends. I have officially seen my first ray of sunlight in the last month. I'm not sure what it means, and I'm not sure what the cause is, but today I felt comfortable. Today I felt like an agent in my own life. Today I felt like I was part of a family.

I think a large part of it is that I remembered why I gave up on my whole life a few months ago. It was love. I needed it. I needed to feel something more than just going through the motions. I needed to feel like I was needed in some way... and I got it back. God, it's fucked. But I got it back.

God this is vague as hell, but I can't help it.

Tonight I had some PBRs with Gabe at Winston's and it was a great time. We talked about movies and were friends. I realized that I have a problem with intellectually alienating people that I love. I have better conversations with friends. And...

Recording went well today. My depression may no long make this blog necessary. I can't think of anything to write unless I'm bitter. Damn. I hope the world dies?

The Barrier

In honor of this post pushing me past my previously understood limit of 7 for the entire blog, I will post a seriously disturbing yet comforting picture of myself. Also, Ian Curtis is using all of the depression in the room...

Wrong Album? Are you SERIOUS?

Tonight I was trying to listen to Zen Arcade and I put in Let It Be (Replacements). The strange thing is the correlation between Husker Du and the Replacements... the irony is killing me. The worst part is that it took me a whole song to realize my mistake. That is starting to become an alarming trend. Taking too long to realize that something is wrong... taking to long to realize that the Replacements is not Husker Du... god, I doubt anyone will understand this shit.

Tonight was another humiliating night. I layed down at the altar of goodwill and got royally fucked. Goodness, this is become an alarming trend...

On a brighter note, rock bottom is rapidly approaching and after that things can't get any worse...

Or can they? Damn...

I am sixteen years old again. I hate everything about it. It's like going through puberty for a second time. Maybe it's coming out of puberty?

In the words of Paul Westerberg:

"One more chance to get it all wrong, one more chance to do it all wrong, one more chance to get it half right, one more warning..."

Goodness, I can see the walls closing. It's physical. It's definately physical.

Rocks at the Window

Tonight I tried something I had seen in movies. I tried throwing rocks at a woman's window. Didn't work. So I climbed onto the roof and went in through said window. Didn't work. Ended up getting sent home after being annoying for two and a half hours. Being annoying by just laying there, doing nothing. What the fuck am I supposed to do in that situation? The movies fucked me again.

On another note, I did learn something: Never get drunk at happy hour and then hang out with someone who wasn't there with you, because they will never understand. Also, never live with your parents when you are twenty-three and expect anything good to come out of it. What a crappy way to end a great night.

"And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make" - John Lennon. What rot.

Dream Eat, Dream Brother

So today was an interesting day. I was tired all day. I went to work with a fierce headache. I got coffee and smoked at the coffeeshop while listening to Joni Mitchell's "Blue" album. It was great. I wallowed all day. Then teensy shows up and everything is peachy. We hang out, have a good time, and she leaves and I feel happy. Then I start thinking. Then I remember things, and put them together, and realize the timeline... then I have heartburn, don't want to sleep, and feel like absolute shit.

I mean, come on. What the fuck is up? I'm having at least four contradictory breakthroughs every day.

I just want to go to sleep and have a dream about eating food that I like. It would be nice to be able to sleep again... or at least to think that I can sleep.

Everything is off... I wrote a poem about a woman with strong, sunken eyes... I fell in love I think. The world is fucked. I am Joel Barish, on my way to the ocean.

And I will never escape.

Drunk and Horny... with ELO. Damn.

In case anyone was wondering, Electric Light Orchestra is the worst music in the world to masturbate to, even if you are looking at sexy pictures. I guess it has something to do with "Hey, boy blue is back..." and the infinite number of blue-balls associations that can be made. Point being, the album El Dorado can make a man feel guilty about getting off.

But once turned off, the games begin. How great is that?

Tonight I met a woman with an unusual male name and it was super fucking hot. What does THAT SHIT mean? Holy crap, the old me is back. It's Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. "Why do I instantly fall in love with every woman who gives me the slightest bit of attention?"

Love is a lie. All that exists is fucking and passion. I mean, I am passionate about music... if I could meet the god of music and fuck her, my love would be just peachy. Then I could say, "I love you" while being totally honest.

AND THEN: The world disappears, and John Updike is dead and I HAVEN'T EVEN READ ONE OF HIS BOOKS AND IT FUCKING DEPRESSES ME and everyone in the world cares about things, and seems honest, but seriously, at the end of the day, are they all out in the cold? Do they ALL feel like shit like I feel like shit? Someone compared me to Kurt Cobain today. WHAT THE FUCK? Is it REALLY MY DESTINY to fuck up everything in the world that I care about?

"He left us, he left us" - Jurassic Park (SP?)

I mean, he left us! Or SHE left us!

Tonight has been the best and worst of nights. At least I fell in love again, even if it was only for a couple of hours...

and then Milton spoke to god, and god said, "Who the FUCK are you?"

BOOOOOOOORRRRRRIIIIIINNNNNNGGGGG!!!!

IN YOUR FACE BITCH

So I'm sitting here watching the end of "Forgetting Sarah Marshall", and it's really an interesting movie. It made me think about turtles. I think because of the scene where Sarah tries to put Peter's peter in her mouth to help him get it up but it just doesn't work because Peter doesn't love her anymore. I imagine that it was something like having a turtle's head in her mouth, except softer and more disappointing. What a great move. Give her the turtle.

Imagine the control that would take, but it would be worth it for the insult potential. It would be the perfect answer to the fake orgasm. Like, "you are gonna be fake pleasured? Well guess what, you can't give me a boner. SUCK ON THE SOFT TURTLE."

And another thing, how did THAT guy get left by the "ok" blonde chick and then hook up with Jackie except Jackie somehow got twice as hot after her That 70's Show heydey. And it was in Hawaii. Maybe it would make more sense if I had actually seen the entire movie. I might watch it, just in case it turns out to be inspirational in some way.

IN OTHER NEWS:

kerrrrrrPLUNK!

Sweaty and Orgasmic... or Dead. Fuck.

So as my facebook page loads, there is a picture of a woman covered in sweat and throwing her head back with her mouth open... and it's the only thing that loads... and I get kinda turned on by it. Then everything else comes up and I realize that it's an ad for a horror movie. Talk about delusions.

Then I start to think about violence and sexuality. I guess it's not a huge revelation that serial killers are in it to get off... but still, do we have this kind of confusion on facebook, making regular people feel like complete perverts?

Speaking of perverts, does it count as doubly masturbatory to talk about facebook on your blog? What if I then post my blog address on twitter? I will become a computer. And when I am one I will make sure that ambiguous photos of women being murdered load in such a way that they momentarily appear to be sexy.

BREAKING NEWS:

The paper delivery people just came to my house, and the kid KICKED my paper into the driveway. AMAZING. How awesome would it be if I called the Pilot and complained?

The delivery kid kicked my paper. I think that is a combination of the two most disapointing prank calls I've ever heard on the internet. God this is fucking boring.

What a day I guess

So at two o'clock I use the bowflex to get buff so that I won't ever be abandoned again. Ha! And then I sit, I think:

"Should I shave my beard?"

Yes, it is late. The stubble will be grown in by the morning. There will be no recipient of a freshly shaven kiss. But uffa, I need to shave. I look like a lazy person... but am I lazy?

Earlier this week my dad said that I wasn't lazy, I just like to get engaged in things that totally interest me and sometimes I have a problem with putting up with the boring things that boring people do in order to sustain their boring lives. I will not be one of those people, no matter how poor and broken I come to be.

I left a beer in my room earlier tonight and I'm finally getting around to drinking it. That is commitment my friends, that and not fucking around. But goddammit, it's time to put up or shut up, put out or get out, put on or go on...

I finally joined a band. I think I am more comfortable joining a band than starting a band. I don't want to lead... I want to be accepted in a role of advisement. Consultation or something like that. I want to be appreciated in the background but also be in front, be the only one that anyone sees or loves or wants to be around because I'm goddamn selfish. I have to shave my beard, I have to use the bowflex, I have to like shitty movies and cry when I see the sunset and love everyone that I meet because that's what I want to be, that's who I want to love, everyone and everything... and if I give them the world, then I can die happy. Or at least, less sad.

Damn the letters, damn the poems, damn the songs and the friendship. I'm in this for the sex and the pain. I'm in this for the opening of doors and the cliffs and the falling and the bleeding and getting high and light because so much blood is gone... I'm in it for the boredom.

Now I'm bored.