Journal

Reflecting on myself.

7.3.25 - Two Confessions For The Price of One!

There's really no better metaphor for wasted life and potential than cum in a trash can. I'll admit something -- I've had a problem since I was twelve. Before I knew what the fuck sex even was. I'll never admit that to anyone real, you know. But I guess it's worth saying. Fuck. Only watched porn for a year or two, pretty easy to cut, my brain is an erotica factory, but fuck, it's not really important? Masturbation doesn't even feel that great. It's just a chore at this point. I'm a little frightened that real sex would be as uninteresting. "Oh, guess it's time for my weekly fuck. Hey, where's my birthday sex?" Human porn just reminds me that we're disgusting little meat animals rutting and fucking, and worse, some people are into the nasty meat shit. It's all really voyeurism, watching some guy put his dick in someone else. Ugh.
Second confession - I don't really believe in God. I was lying to myself all along. God's been an abstract theological philosophical concept to me all my life -- only good for conversation. "What do you think about God?" And how can I judge you based on your response? Are you a braindead Christian? A rebellious asshole Atheist? I thought I didn't care about Christianity, after all, fighting it all your life is just another way to worship the Cross, but then I immediately had an argument in my family about it. So I guess I am one of those militant Atheists. But not really. I mean, Religion is good for humans, it's what they do. It's as valid as philosophy or poetry at least. And if it gives you the Good FeelingTM, who am I to judge? If it keeps you clean... I have a song for this Soundgarden - My Wave. Ugh. I don't know. Am I even an optimist, or am I faking that too? Thinking too much is bad for you.

6.16.25

Listen to new music or appreciate music from not so long ago? hard decision. Rehashing some finds. Two playlists. The first is a mishmash, the second is a somewhat composed mixtape.
Candy Pop and Death Threats (recent finds)
For Nobody
Neighbor's givin' us crazy bullshit, trying to call the cops on us and everything. It's funny, you move to the desert to get away from these people, but the people that move to the desert also tend to be crazy people who didn't get along where they were. Hate gossiping, but... love it? People have too much time, they get into philosophy and politics and poetry, and if not, they invent bullshit to occupy themselves. What do you think this is? Unnecessary drama. Pick up the phone, it's a one way conversation, the receiver's ringing with death screams and plaintive begging whispers. Someone's dying in an apartment, maybe if you listen close enough to the confessions you could find them in this endless city, hear the slivers of wood, the splinters under the dirt under the fingers under the blood stains. What a fuckin' joke, you're not finding them, you're abusing yourself, and you could hang up the phone but you don't. Why? Why? Why?
Don't worry, I'm fine. Totally normal to write depressing shit like that. You'll never find me anyways. What's the difference between an edgy shit poet and a famous musician? Fame. Thinking about cops -- they're looking for a criminal. You find what you seek. I have a guilty conscience, so I'm looking for ways to abandon my life or escape it. The same statement, with different ears, someone looking for a criminal will find one. "Bureaucrats with guns." They enforce the laws -- there's no law until it's enforced. Rubber meets road. Imagine if your life was just telling people what they can and cannot do all day. Control Freak. Still, police officers are a necessary evil, just like government. They can be cool. Police Officer's "discretion" if you don't know. Ciao. God bless.

5.22.25 Notes from Mr. Underground

I read Dostoyevsky's Notes from Underground. I have decided I do not want to be that guy. I think it is his cowardice that makes him that way; a bitter loner who thinks he is superior to everyone and does nothing in his pile of shit. The resemblance is uncanny. Like I mentioned, it's easier to recognize similar lines of thought than the symptoms we dissociate from. Sorry for any typos, this phone is a PITA to edit on. Can people change? Nothing as powerful as changing "I can't" to "I can". Well, maybe a nuke. "Conquering the self is the most honorable thing, being conquered by the self is the most vile and shameful..." Funny how society runs on collective fear and self-deceit. The foundations float in air. Fear is the little death that brings obliteration... I never recognized those voices in myself. The real self-deceit self-defeat. -- As a kid, I got the bad habit of reading for entertainment. I never thought about what the author was trying to say, or what I could learn. If you learn nothing from a book, there's no point in reading it. Learning one key point from every book is an atomic habit. Knowledge has no purpose until it is put into practical use-- Education means to "educe," to find, organize, and implement information. There's no replacement for experience. "Theoretically? No." (Fifth Element.)
Don't owe anyone, this disappearing act is getting old. Just keep running. Throw out the good with the bad. No compromise, no surrender. I understand burning bridges, making a clean break, but a note would be nice, a little goodbye, any sign of respect--maybe I'm asking too much, No I'm asking for myself. I care about what I want, who I am, for myself. "Fuck em" (Usual Suspects)
This site is practice in honesty and communication, a display of work, a tool for reflection. An anonymous website is a unique form of media. I like to show off my thoughts, it'd be nice if I could get some criticism. Godspeed, god bless, farewell, drive safe!

5.9.25

Hey. Been gone a while. You should know that if I stop updating the site, it's probably because I'm dead. Fun thing -- I got eleven coin flips right in a row last night. Do the math on that, won't ya. Reflections -- I am stubborn, like a horn growing from my heart, and I know what they look like and feel like now, and it is like I have a horn from my chest that will not let me follow anyone else's path. I've learned I am also very dramatic, for attention and because I like it. I am a clown, really. It's the way I am, and I take me as I am. I know I must change, but at my own pace. I don't fight authority, but I'll subvert it, I don't listen to anyone I don't respect, and this chain has broken my life before me, a passenger in my own life, "she called out a warning, don't let your life pass you by."
Better get to work. Have so many words to share and no time online.

3.27.25 Depression Exhibition(ism)

Depression Exhibition. Did some work on the site, have a lot to type and not much time. Listening to Pijn's "Loss," I really like it. I'll have to listen to more postrock. Reminds me of Silver Mt. Zion. I really like these goats I've met, the babydoll sheep too. Lack of Self Worth -> Hard to Leave. Haven't left -> No Self Worth. Haven't left -> insults. I really am a dramatic little bitch. Retreat to my journal to keep writing bullshit. Time to answer the question, knock knock I've got the locomotive insanity to give you stomach knots. More wrong turns per capita than neurons to blame, the plane is going down with some tailspin smoke, engine choke, sputter spokes, wheel of the weird spinning into tomorrow or yesterday, not much difference. Sounds like improvisation but I've practiced my self hate, getting better every day at rearranging my mental furniture, sutures, futures, whatever ya wanna call it. You like it? Give me a call. You know I'll be doing nothing else but playing with words and spilling drinks on myself.

3.15.25

Yesterday was Pi Day so that was cool. I didn't do anything. I've been having crazy dreams recently, I blame the wind, though I left the window over my head cracked so the moon could peer in. Also one of the cats ran off into the desert so. Another example of being abandoned. Funny story, I was actually asleep and the door was open when I woke up, one of the cats had run out but the other stayed. Magic? Maybe.
Anyways I started a new journal page because the old one was lagging from too many words. That's a RAM issue I believe. How much we don't know is ~~impressive~~ infinite, our brains trick us into not panicking at knowing nothing.
The only thing we can offer to God is our attention, and it's the littlest thing to us. OH, Spotify won't let me play music for some odd reason. Yet again, if you don't pay for it, you don't own it. Well, if you don't own it, you can't keep it. And then Google required me to give them a real-not-internet-app phone number to set up a YouTube acct. so I can't make a playlist without giving the feds my personal phone number. So. That's all, see you later.