a different way......

I've decided that the best way to judge people is how animal react to you. It occurred to me on my nice leisurely walk up Lincoln ave. Earlier after I watched a squirrel just hanging out I got within two or three feet of it and he just kept sitting there, paying attention to me but not afraid. Not even a little bit. After that happened i realized that there are people that animals just dislike, fear, or hate. These people end up sucking 90 percent of the time so from here on out I'm just going to be the weird guy watching if animals scurry away in your presence, ignore you, or tentatively watch your every move.

My legacy my curse get the bail money ready, I aint joking

So I've been thinking all day after watching clips of Geraldo or it may have been his moustache actually doing the talking but he actually equated a bunch of people protesting for the 9/11 truth movement to a bunch of "homosexuals that want to solicit sex in bathrooms". Believe what you want about 9/11 I'm not even here to argue that but for some reason he sent me off on a rant today about what I can do to make my mark on the world and I figured it out. I'm going to punch any celebrity that is deemed a douche. So if this comes to fruition here's a list of people that will be cold cocked if I ever see you in person. (It will probably end up making you soul sucking scum fucks more famous but it will let me sleep in good conscience knowing I did what so many people want to do!) So getting back to the task at hand here's a quick list off the top of my head that if I get the chance WILL be ASSAULTED VIOLENTLY WITH OUT REMORSE.
1. Geraldo Rivera
2. Kid rock
3. Brett Michaels
4. Carson Daly
5. Jay Leno
6. Any reality TV star minus Mike Rowe and Les Stroud that I actually recognize(I'm gunning for you, VH1 parasites)
7. Kanye West(The voice of who's generation you egomanical sucker of Satan's cock?)
8. Tom Cruise
9. 3 doors down (all of em. Seriously.)
10. Akon
11. Brody jenner( Seriously he gets special attention and I will rip off his dick and make him choke on it.)
12. Any Hilton
13. Any Kardashian(Why are you whores famous? Because daddy's rich?)
That's all I can do right now with out getting too angry about this. I'm dead serious if people agree to bail me out whenever I get a chance to pop one of these fuckers I'd start tomorrow, along with posting my charges I will also write up a hotel style review of each jail that I end up in over this, and of course you get to claim association with the crazy asshole that finally just starting doing it. Here's to assault charges and trying to break the cycle of shit we are fed every day.

weird thoughts on a weird night

Lately I've been having a recurring dream. It's so fucking weird I went almost twenty four years without this happening and all the sudden I go to sleep knowing what I'm going to end up dreaming about? Its so hard to try and put into words as I sit here trying to type it out my mind just goes blank. I pull into my completely stereotypical "American dream" house's driveway complete with white picket fence, perfectly kept grass, yellow lab running in the yard, my son is playing with the dog and everything seems so normal and happy, right? Here's where it gets weird though even in my dream I feel this overwhelming guilt all through it and I even wake up feeling guilty I have no idea what the fuck is with that. Everything is so real and vivid and then I end up wearing this guilt from a stupid dream like chain mail all day just dragging it with me. I always feel irrationally guilty about shit. It's the same reason I can't walk out of a store without buying something. I wish I was a sociopath and just didn't feel anything but instead its the total opposite I know this is going to make me out to be a whiny emo pussy but I just wish I could take a break from caring. It's just so hard being away from him for a month or two at a time then just try and swoop in and be a part time dad? I want to go back home for him but that place is literally decaying before my eyes every time I go there more business's closed their doors, new (empty) mini malls keep popping up, there is literally snow on the ground from October to may, ugh but my son is up there. I want a better life for me and him but it's hard to do from so far away. Is being a depressed loser with no hope up there better then nothing at all? If anyone has a solid answer for my damned human condition feel free to share.

Fort Minor Where'd you go?

Where'd you go?
I miss you so,
Seems like it's been forever,
That you've been gone.

She said "Some days I feel like shit,
Some days I wanna quit, and just
be normal for a bit,"
I don't understand why you have to always be gone,
I get along but the trips always feel so long,
And, I find myself trying to stay by the phone,
'Cause your voice always helps me
to not feel so alone,
But I feel like an idiot, workin'
my day around the call,
But when I pick up I don't have much to say,
So, I want you to know it's a little fucked up,
That I'm stuck here waitin', at times debatin',
Tellin' you that I've had it
with you and your career,
Me and the rest of the family here

singing "Where'd you go?"

I miss you so,
Seems like it's been forever,
That you've been gone.
Where'd you go?
I miss you so,
Seems like it's been forever,
That you've gone,
Please come back home...

You know the place where you used to live,
Used to barbecue up burgers and ribs,
Used to have a little party every
Halloween with candy by the pile,
But now, you only stop by every once and a while,
Shit, I find myself just fillin' my time,
With anything to keep the
thought of you from my mind,
I'm doin' fine, I plan to keep it that way,
You can call me if you find that
you have something to say,
And I'll tell you, I want you to know
it's a little fucked up,
That I'm stuck here waitin', at times debatin',
Tellin' you that I've had it
with you and your career,
Me and the rest of the family here
singing "Where'd you go?"

I miss you so,
Seems like it's been forever,
That you've gone.
Where'd you go?
I miss you so,
Seems like it's been forever,
That you've gone,
Please come back home...

I want you to know it's a little fucked up,
That I'm stuck here waitin', no longer debatin',
Tired of sittin' and hatin' and
makin' these excuses,
For why you're not around, and feeling so useless,
It seems one thing has been true all along,
You don't really know what
you've got 'til it's gone,
I guess I've had it with you and your career,
When you come back I won't be here
and you can sing it...

Where'd you go?
I miss you so,
Seems like it's been forever,
That you've gone.
Where'd you go?
I miss you so,
Seems like it's been forever,
That you've gone,
Please come back home...
Please come back home...
Please come back home...
Please come back home...
Please come back home...

Do you care if I don't know what to say Will you sleep tonight? or will you think of me?

What the fuck? Who the fuck turns down their dream job in big fucking quotations to get a mediocre job in a mediocre life? I wish I could blame it on something around me something, tangible, but what the fuck? What kind of arrogant prick gets "his out" to argue with his boss(YES this asshole!) I had everything in neat workable order, everything clicked, my bright shiny horizon was right there. For what? So I could say yes! "Look at me look over here I did it my way"? Really ? Am I that against the system that I can throw the cop out "I did it my my way?" I have nothing going for me, seriously "whoot whooot look at this dumb fuck he can work harder, stronger, faster, in a ditch?" Hah wow, here's my life as a ditch nigger talking about the life that "coulda, woulda, shoulda"? Is this my out? What the fuck?

Nothing more thank you

The story of the hurricane

You can claim that you don't want something that it isn't all that important to you anymore but when your finally within grasp (again) sometimes you quit gotta thinking about whats the right thing, wrong thing, the good thing. Who the fuck cares when your idea of normalcy is totally blown and you see something that will make you happy for the moment is right there beckoning you with their siren's touch sometimes you just gotta quit playing the game. Who the fuck cares if you know it doesn't really mean what you want it to for either of you? What the fuck is a bunch of talk gonna get you anyways(hooray delusions)? When at the end of the day you really think that anyone can just james frey you the fuck out of existance what is there left to fight? Feeling like a total fraud isn't that far fetched when the last 1230 and million hours of your life feels like it was set by some one elses tivo and it just clicked back, forward, skip commercials. I still care, probably too much but I still do for sure. blah blah I'm a pawn hes a pawn in your game I get it I can dig that, but when I feel like your a fucking joker in my deck for 21 its not so cool anymore. So kudos to you bringer of pain, you fooled me. I'm a big emo pussy that is finally starting to figure out what makes me be. Thank you for coming in and shitting all over that. I'm really starting to think the three dirtiest words a man can utter isn't "I love you" Oh no fuck that the three that will get you in far bigger trouble is "I still care". And p.s. G.I. Joe was a fraud its not "now you know and knowing is half the battle" oh no, it's more like "Congratufuckinglations you know better and you still get trapped by everything you swore off, retard". God bless my red neck parents. Seriously. After typing that I got the lyrics to a wonderful country song stuck in my head, "Everything I love is killing me, cigarettes, jack daniels, and caffiene." I know your no fucking good for me and we both know better so what the fuck is this? If you came in this door I would beat the living the shit out you, then cuddle, then fuck. Who the fuck thinks like this?

through the painters brush

I know my postings have been weird and haphazard lately so why stop what works? Anyone that's been around lately has heard me rambling on about people assuming that everyone has the same knowledge base and that because of that you inherently assume that everyone assumes that their opinions are right and that because of this inherent logic that the world is in sync with your opinion. Well heres your news for the day QUIT BEING SO FUCKING SELF ABSORBED. Da Vinci and Michelangelo were both fond of saying ogni pittore dipinge se, that "every painter portrays himself." Think about it, think some more then quit doing it. To see what I'm getting at without the angry ramblings look here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/False_consensus_effect.

coming out of my cage and I'm doing just fine

Sometimes it just clicks when its all said and done everything just fell into place just the way that it should've and all it took was turning your back to it. Isn't it funny how sometimes the best solution is to just turn your back and be like fuck this let whatever come may? I've noticed something that has profoundly affected my life lately, beside the obvious I'm always gonna be crazy shit, did you ever notice that people have such a fucked up view of emotional pain? You can hurt some now or you can put it off knowing that later on you are going to get hurt worse because you didn't let it go when you should have? Once I finally started to really grasp that I got a way better understanding of who I am, What I want, and where I want to go. Beyond that I've been thinking lately what an odd collection of music I've been listening to while I wait for my knee to unfuck it self and how there seems to be a very odd eclectic sound track going on in the back of my over fired brain. Seriously just try and grasp the mind that is listening to him join me in death , going to merril bainbridge mouth, to becks sexx laws, to the frays look after you, to TI's live your life, to johnny cashes version of hurt, guns and roses patience, to mendecino county line by willie nelson and to finish it off bother by stonesour. Just listen to them in that order maybe that will give you some insight into an overactive bipolar brain, just maybe.

so yeah

Sometimes when you look around every thing goes to shit all you can do is shrug your shoulders, light a cig, and play dumb. It is better to embrace your crazy then to use it like a weapon, like oh yeah im fucked up thats why I hurt you... Anyways yeah back to this point any one that really knows me will understand why my jaw dropped when I was reading this. Sounds like anyone you know hhmmmmmm? God damn I love finding worthwhile blogs, If you want to find out more about us crazies look at hers its http://www.thebunnyblog.com/

To-kill-ya more - February 13, 2009

I have this therapist. She's really something. I'm so depressed I can't get out of bed and sleep through an appointment, and she calls me to see where I am. I don't call her back, she'll come to my house. I do something stupid, she says, "Erin, that's stupid," not "Erin you're stupid." I'm not doing what she needs me to do to make the therapy work, and she says, "Erin, I need you to help me with this," not "Erin I need you to stop being [this, that, and the other cleverly deprecating expletive]" She's very fair, and very good at what she does. She's the shit, frankly.

She keeps saying this thing to me, "Erin, how are you still alive?" And I go, "What do you mean?"

Over the few months we've been working together, I've been thinking about that. What does she mean by that? My life's not been that crazy. Has it?

Some times I think we're born into something, and it can be dysfunctional as hell, and without logic or reason, and because it is all we know, we consider it the epicenter of normalcy. We do what we have to do, initially, to survive inside of it, and that becomes a pattern of behavior that's, to put it frankly, fuckin' insane. Then we're operating out of insanity, and so that's just what we do. It's all we know. Insanity.

Here's what I do: move. Fast, impulsive, get-the-fuck-out, barreling. I barrel through life. I used to hear that from my mother a lot, "Erin, quit barreling through the living room." I have this gargantuan pelvis and a dearth of grace, and I barrel, this way and that, careening through rooms, across sidewalks, smacking my hipbones off tables, fences, poles, etc. with great abandon. If the flesh between my skin and hips hadn't been robbed off all feeling during a doozy of a fall sometime in '92, it would ache nonstop. I just blasted my right hip into a chair at the coffee shop. Everybody looked up, and there I was, bent over a chair with my hand under a half-capsized paper cup, drops of milky coffee running down my forearm. Hi everyone. I'm Erin. I barrel.

And it's not just movement. It's driving. It's running. It's drinking. It's the physical moving about the country; I just moved into my fifteenth apartment.

So what's wrong with that (?), I think. Is it something more than free-spiritedness? Surely its not.

But yeah, it is. It's wrong. It's wild, uncontrolled living. It's slow suicide. When I think of the things I've survived--alcohol poisonings, drunken falls, sober falls, starvation, crashes on bikes, crashes in cars, drug abuse, violent relationships with sociopaths and multiple suicide attempts--I wonder how it is that I've gotten this far in life--not physically, like my therapist does--but spiritually? How am I possibly intact? What kind of person seduces death like this and honest-to-God, truly, deeply BELIEVES they're just "free spirited?" How little attention have I been paying to reality?

These thoughts didn't come to me out of therapy. You would think they would, but they didn't.

It snowed in the desert last week, irrationally (I'm telling you, this place is kooky). The pines and yuccas and cacti iced over, and the pink vagina became even pinker with its coating of snow; a pastel pink, you could say. The pink of baby shower wrapping paper.

I came home to a Tarantula at my door. He was sitting on the "L" portion of my "Welcome" mat, and there was a dusting of snow on his back. He seemed to be trying to warm himself by hanging out on the other side of the sliding glass door that leads into my current, fifteenth kitchen. "Hi there, buddy," I said, like I say to any animal I see because I love animals.

He looked cold, and that made me sad. I didn't want him to be cold, and so, without first thinking of the consequences, I put my palm out and scuttled him onto it with my other hand. A giant, poisonous spider. I held him there in my palms, warming him up and cooing at him as if he were a kitten, until I kind of came-to and the reality of the situation--there is a giant, poisonous spider in your palms--became rather difficult to ignore.

I put him down again. He was fine. Didn't throw him or anything, but who does this? Who sees a giant, poisonous spider on their doorstep and says, "Oh, he must be cold; I'll pick him up?"

That's not right, and it never has been.