Screaming With Accompaniment

Dying down a hard road

2007-01-30T02:30:00.000-08:00

This right here

How y'all doing pfft :P

Curtailing Deadlines with Insanity

2006-11-16T21:47:00.000-08:00

...
My mind bubbles with conflict..
So many ridges and razors have I felt with the tip of my finger since I last typed my computer keyes.

Only recently have I shaved my slovenly bearded face and washed my hair revealing that it was a platiunum blond and not dark brown.
Only recently have I found a packet of cigarettes and brought one to my chapped lips and coughed with bronchitus through inhalations of tobacco. The nicotene seemed to wake me out of a million year hibernation and I began to move sluggishly from my chair, which I had been sitting in with a burial shroud or perhaps a coccoon of newspapers, handouts, algebra glyphs scrolled haphazardly across yellow stiff parchment and hundred dollar college books.

I feel the air rise in my chest mixed homogenously with smoke. In the background a radio is playing Slipknot's Wait and Bleed.

No doubt that my description of myself is not complimentary, nor did I mean it to be. I'm twenty-one working on twenty-two and only about two months away. I still live in my parent's house and I have no job.

I am living off of those that begat me like an ocean mite feeds off of it's dead mother after it explodes from her insides. It is an insular and sustaining way of life, if not complacent.

All of this taken into account I must be the most abhorrent unattractive thing since the last John Waters movie. I would like for you all to be able to point at my actions and status and say "there is a useless dreg of society who does not understand the fullfilment of laboring, succeeding, struggling and winning." My typical response would be to say: "I am merely enjoying watching you toil." Said the cricket to the squirrell.

An angel swoops down onto my left shoulder and says: "Allah wants to know why you indulge yourself in inaction at the expense of those whom you claim to love."
I draw a long weathered look at the angel and say with all conviction:
...
"Shoo"

My previous reincarnation rises from the clay in the lake outside my door and claws his way into the livingroom and says: "Son, we need to talk." I look him in his muddy eye and say:
"Your getting the floor wet."

Buddha seperates and materialize from Brahma and says:
"You are eating too much."
I look over his emaciated body and say:
"Did you know that in all these Chinese resturaunts they have these fat bald statues they call buddhas and that ninety-percent of all dumbass Americans think that's you."

Jesus pulls himself from my television and a blinding light surrounds him. I hear a masculine voice say:
"You've really let yourself go, man."
Not being able to see Jesus because of the damn light I try to shout over the loud trumpets saying:
"Yeah I know, can I have a little help here?"

Download

I'm sitting here listening to these people bitch about my decrepit state while I smoke another cigarette. I know only that while I'm being reproached that eight chapter reviews are due tomorrow and I have only two done.

My levity perhaps stems from the fact that only three people are in my class: myself, another student and our teacher.

Goodbye.

-Sin

On My Ninth Life

2006-10-06T22:35:00.000-07:00

I've finally aggravated myself to some form of proactive motion. I'm taking lesson in translating. Mother says I'll end up being C-3PO...whatever.
Everyday the tension is getting tighter and I'm getting in even worse states of health. I've lost nearly ten pounds in a month and my face is getting thin. Most of my addictions are gone save a few...namely, Zanaflex.
There's not much of me left, so I figure I might as well "get busy living or get busy dieing." In choosing to do both, I move on. Move on north. As far away from this place as I can legally run.

We'll see...

Kudos

On to Bigger and Brighter things

-Sin

This can't be!

2006-08-21T22:37:00.000-07:00

I am now dieing.... Actually I'm not sure...I might be dieing I just can't tell. I don't feel well at all. I think I went way over my head. God help me. Please...I love you...I don't want it to be fatal.

E Nomine Pacem

2006-08-20T23:01:00.000-07:00

I may be over my head. I feel unwell. I hope I don't get over it. I can barely type. I feel like I have become a vampire. Due to all my recreational activities, I am now ...I forgot what I was saying...
My limbs weigh more than humanly possible. I go on with the assurance that I might die. If I do, then I am finally free. I am a vampire. My limbs are paralyed. I might not make it. I am already among the living dead. All I have to do is...damn I forgot what I was saying again. goodbye...

-Sin

Oh I'm Alive, My Friend

2006-08-20T12:27:00.000-07:00

God, what nightmares I've had lately. Boredom and stress tend to drag one's spirit through a mire of depression. Boredom (job) and stress(college) are tough opponents and often kill weaker men. But they didn't cause my nightmares... My nightmares were self-inflicted.
I dreamt last night that I was dreaming, deep in sleep when I felt someone hovering over me. It felt like his shadow was choking me. I could feel his breath against my face like some psychopathic madman. The pressure and terror just kept increasing and tightening until opened my eyes and a pale-face man with long black hair and fangs.
I woke up screaming in a bed drenched in sweat. I felt a warm coppery taste in my mouth. Terrified that I was bleeding internally, I coughed into my hand and turned on the lights. Nothing. I felt light-headed, like one feels after acquiring a deep cut.
I was awake for the next two hours trying to convince myself that I was not dying. That I didn't have an esophageal varices hemorrhage and that I wasn't going to bleed to death inside my throat.
It's a nightmare that I will have for a while longer. I've begun to feel less and less. My fingers are numb and my muscles are slower. My vision a lot dimmer. My normal zanaflex complicated lassitude has been multiplied.
...I keep a smiling face. It helps. The problem is that no one knows that something is wrong. As long as I can keep the corners of my mouth turned up they act like it's okay and that everything is standard. Well it's not, godammit!
I feel worse today than I have in many years. I guess I just don't talk about myself very much... I have to work late tonight...

-Sin

No Time To Cry

2006-08-11T20:04:00.000-07:00

When faced with hardship or a massive problem, I frequently spit, curse and moan like ninety percent of the population. But inside I thrive and part of me overjoys at seeing utter failure and experiencing despair. If it is a hopeless situation, then so much the better. It is under those situations I get to test a part of me that doesn't see much use. While I may curse, grit my teeth and shout, I take charge and make decisions.

It's not the Spotlight...

2006-08-08T09:30:00.000-07:00

I can't believe how much I've forgotten about this site. It was never vary important to anyone but me. Sort of a Dragnet like deal...I've even used a alias for all the good it does. I can't believe I had forgotten this site though... But then again...I like to forget. It's an honest past time and there are so many horrible things to forget. But then at some stage it all floods and there is total recall. Faces and places that have faded from sight are forced to the surface. Old friends, past lovers, just when you think they're gone your memories drag them back up.

But then old friends give way to new friends. In Kentucky, you would think that interesting people are nonexistant but that's untrue. Even in these last months, I've met people worthy of mention. At least one of them is an odd doppelganger-like image of myself from times gone by. Hah... But I can't damn him with my fate. But...if I could give him a piece of advice. I would tell him that in his life and in every facet of his existance not to regard any problem or any detail as small and insignificant. Too many of my own tragedies have begun that way.

Now...years away from where I was and miles from where I'm headed, I find that the old friends who've bowed out are still something to remember with a smile on my face.

I wish them all well.

I can't help but be optimistic. As Frost would've said..."I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep" Math, James, Katie, Joseph...

I have to lay down...I'm tired...*sigh*

College starts sooner than I would hope. What a scam...Paying for a comodity that should be, here of all places, free.

-Sin

A Cynic in the Mind of a Leader of Men...

2006-07-05T22:30:00.000-07:00

...and in the heart of a believer.
Suppose there is a man who hates his fellow beings. That hate is in the form of extreme mistrust. He holds man as an arrogant creation, who's thoughts and institutions should be shunned. He believes only in man's achievements which saves him from being a full blown cynic. He believes in Solipsism and mistrusts even his senses yet he believes in beauty and aesthetics. He indulges in gross pleasure and extravagants yet hates them. He thrives on knowledge and manipulation. The twisting of those who believe in men. Of those who are not cynics.

What do you have? an impossible and inconsistent man.

I wish the world and mankind destruction yet I love their music and paintings. I love flowers and food.

I am an admirer of Diogenes yet not a follower.
I am a hedonist yet I decry the materialism and fakeness of civilization.
I believe in creating order but not the current one.
I believe in preventing chaos but am in favor of using it to clear away the fake and obescene world we've created.
I would rather have order than chaos but prefer chaos to what we have now.
I am a hipocrite.

These are a Few of my Favorite Things ver 2.0

2006-06-16T12:27:00.000-07:00

Flower: Orchid
Orchid: Dracula vampira
Movies:
Henry V
Night of the Living Dead
Adaptation
Dawn of the Dead
The Shawshank Redemption
Day of the Dead
Reservoir Dogs
Nightmare Before Christmas
The Name of the Rose
Trainspotting
Hamlet
The Big Lebowski
Star Wars (all of them)
The Grudge
And others

Music bands:
Faith and the Muse
Mozart
Gorillaz
Cruxshadows
Beethoven
Evanescence
Cocteau Twins
Field of Nephilim
Dead Can Dance
Lacrimosa
and others

Books:
Henry V
Around the World in Eighty Days
A Critique of Pure Reason
Naked Lunch
Heart of Darkness
Sherlock Holmes Mysteries
The Name of the Rose
Atlas Shrugged (because it's funny!)
Lovecraft
Shatterpoint
The Shining
Kafka
Victor Hugo
Hunter S. Thompson
Rex Stout
Murder on the Orient Express
And others

Anime:
Generator Gawl
Guyver
Sorcerer Hunters
Orphen
Blue Seed
Cowboy Bebop

Drink:
Anything with rum in it.

Food:
Anything Italian
genuine Japanese
old fashion Americana

Sports and Pastimes:
Swimming
Fencing
Chess
Reading old Latin Documents and poems
Poetry
Video Games
Botany
Zanaflex
Learning Japanese
Dislikes:
Work...
boring work
stupid boring work...
stupid boring work that doesn't even pay well..
my Job...
Acid...

Games:
Two words:
{Final} {Fantasy}
Kingdom Hearts
Pokemon
Knights of the Old Republic
KOTOR II

Television:
House
Monk
Blackadder
Adult Swim
Nero Wolfe
Sherlock Holmes (Jeremy Brett)

Milk
Writing

-Sin

See, or Close Your Eyes

2006-06-15T23:06:00.000-07:00

Be or be not,
hesitation and indecision
Do not become men of action,
Only men of words.

I recieved quite a shock today...other than being splashed with concentrated hydrochloric acid in the eye and about the face...

Worse than that...more horrible than most nightmares I have suffered throughout my time. For a moment, I actually became that hideous personna I assumed at work. I was so thoroughly disgusted I considered calling in for tomorrow... How hideous... How revolting...

I told jokes/smiled/laughed as always, but I actually felt it on the inside! And now, when I remember it, it makes me want to gag.

But it was to the abrupt rudeness of another that set me back upon my path. In that, I thank them. I had transformed, the mask I donned protected itself and did not want to remove.

As for the acid episode...no I am not recreating a seen from the Phantom of the Opera and ripping off that hideous creature Andrew Lloyd Weber! I was removing a container of obviously pink liquid so that I could get to a container underneath, full of soap. I acted lightly because I never considered a liquid the color of most flavors of Kool-Aid to be mortally dangerous. When I found the container too heavy and dropped it, it splashed me in the right eye and on my hand and about my face. I rubbed my eye and doused it in saline to flush the stuff out. I went to find a cloth to wipe it off my face and arms when I saw that it was dissolving the hair on my arm and smoke was rising. I clawed at my arm and face as I felt it burn like a toungue would burn under a hot pepper. My eye became worse and bloodshot and blisters began to form on my arms and face. I grabbed our spray head from the sink and soaked the afflicted areas.

It was then that I was reminded of masks...and when I hear a coworkers laughter, I was reminded of everything and brought back. How ironic how transformation tends to always happen the same way. I am a creature of scars anyway... What others would find a crippling a debilitating day, I found quite analeptic and curative. The marks upon on my face are still there, I pray they never fade. "Scars have the power to remind us that the past was real." as Dr. Lector once said.

I have learned the dangers of masks today...perhaps, I will not wear one again. I now see that being outcast is much more satisfactory than being accepted as something I'm not or wouldn't be if I hadn't attempted to conform. This is my logic: My eye was damaged, therefor, it sees better.

As for what consequences follow from actually exposing myself to public gaze...I can only say that I will see...

-Sin

Post 100...

2006-06-06T20:43:00.000-07:00

Have I really rambled on for a whole year in one hundred posts? I guess that's a dumb fucking question. Today is 6/6/06, and as usual I am tired of the human condition and the symptoms it inflicts. In fact, I am so tired and I have written so many posts that there really isn't much to say...

In response to my previous post I did not suffer a hangover or any form thereof. I have suffered, but not from hangovers. Actually, I'm suffering from being sober. How's that for an AA statement?

It's a year later and already I'm more out of shape, I'm back living at my mother's house, my hair is longer and I feel centuries older than I did when this blog began. It's this damn country and it's fucking standards! I'm suffering from living in America. I have the tell tale symptoms. I'm a lot less intelligent than I could've been anywhere else, I'm a canidate for heart disease, I feel like shit every time I watch the news...

A little jaded for 21? I couldn't agree more. A little burnt around the edges? Hell yeah. It wasn't supposed to be quite this depressing... I had in mind a much happier tale. Oh well...at least I'm not dead, right?

-Sin

The Taste of Waste

2006-06-02T00:15:00.000-07:00

So far I have not been convinced that I am nearing some sort of a goal, or that what I do is helping at all. I do feel the flavor of stagnation. I am losing my mind. This job is keeping me from doing what I need to do (Clean my room, exercise) and what I'd like to do (Read, Write, study and play video games). I have in excess of three hundred dollars in my account but that is all spent. So what can I do? Not much.

It's been weeks on weeks since I've devoted time to an intellectual study! That can't be healthy... I am probably leaking whatever intelligence I once had but by god, I know how to make a hamburger and pre-close the store. I can't wait until college starts up again. I just need to stretch my mind before I die of boredom. I need to get out to the gym also...

Unghh!

...
...
...
...!

It's been so long since I've done something I have nothing to blog about! Nothing at all!

-Sin

The Turning Point

2006-05-31T01:30:00.000-07:00

I'm still waiting for it. Yep. That massive shift between environments and levels of achievement. Perhaps it will come when I finally leave this towne. Perhaps it will come when I've bought my first house or married or had my first child or become a famous writer.. Perhaps I'll go my entire life without experiencing it. Perhaps it will come with the next Final Fantasy game or the next episode of "House" Maybe when I learn japanese or finally quit my job. Maybe it will happen next semester maybe tomorrow on my way to work. Maybe I'll die.

Lol, this post should have been called "maybe..."

Forces are in the works for many days of delight this summer. Promises of debonair resteraunts and art museums of baseball games and rock concerts and theme parks and other languages. How wonderful

BTW, the explanation for the new sound bite is because I'm going to see the artist this summer. How F*cking cool is that? Rob Zombie.

Also I should warn audiences that my belly is loaded for bear with recreational drugs. hopefully I'll be so out I can call in tomorrow. Pray with me!

Good night.

-Sin

Ode to the Dreaming Solipsist

2006-05-28T01:15:00.000-07:00

O God, you wake and the world will shake.
Dare you cry, why not sleep some more?
This, your fantasy, in form, how fake.
If this is your dream, then you are a boor
Was that rain seasoned by millions of years?
Was it battered against the stones of the earth?
You are the God who dreams up our lives
That rain was your embittered salty tears
You hate this dream, so the less is our worth
Our dollar now only a cent in phantasmal tithes

I am the God of this realm of drear
Cry Hosanna and mourn me and mine
I no longer hold this world as dear
When the end is near I will give you a sign
I am tired of sleep, my dreaming is done
This, though not a nightmare, is grave
It’s quality wants and substance is thin
I have had much better dreams than this one
It is far from worthy to treasure and save
Dreaming this place was my mortal sin

He was our maker, manufacturer and creator
Our minds were beneath the shield of his own
Now he has woke and his mouth has spoke rancor
Our airy selves, mind and matter, have flown
Thunder booms and lightening fills the sky
Our tired routine He would not entertain
With Our dullness He was not impressed
He passed judgment from his dreamy high
That we were the worst dream from his brain
“I am glad to be rid of this mess” he confessed

But then when he awoke from his soft bed
Then I remembered it was all in my head
But what you thought gave you a pause
I am not god but I dreamed that I was

Here is the News

2006-05-28T00:59:00.000-07:00

Jacko's back from Japan
Madonna's tour is a tremendous Success
Jolie and Pitt have a new baby girl that they promptly named after a dog

BTW A little, post script. 3,700 have died in a quake in Indonesia...not to worry. For all of our concerned yet geographically challenged readers, scientists have discovered that Indonesia is not a province of the United States. Anyway back to the ever controversial Madonna.

...sigh

Skirting the Edge of Repetition

2006-05-23T14:45:00.000-07:00

I have only an hour before I have to fly away to work...again. I always seem to be either wasting time, or counting it away until I have to leave. *sigh*

Causality and the Beast

2006-05-19T22:54:00.000-07:00

If it were true that we actually played an active role in our lives then I postulate that many things would differ. I sense those that grab the bull by it's cliched horns are merely acting their nature that has been determined at some point by their surroundings and the environment they were raised. I do not consider those of us who let serendipity drive us from here to there as taking an active role. I do not presume that we are incapable of control; nor do I sneeze at free will. I merely say that we make fewer choices than we boast. Some choices are not choices at all, but merely chance breaking upon on our concrete natures. I recognize that there were not a hell of a lot of choices that brought me here. Sometimes it seems there are many choices but that is an illusion. Don't let it fool you. "Do I go to work today?" ...for fuck's sake... Our choices are even narrowed by our intellect. The more we know, the fewer choices we have to make.

So the question to pose is what choices are we making/have we made? Did we choose to rent that movie? Do we like the new album out of preference or environmental determinism. Somewhere there is a fine line that seperates the bullshit from the synthetics.

I am no longer a part of my family. I say this knowing that it has not yet come to pass, but is happening now. Not of anyone's choosing. It's just happening. My mind is glued to my family so to move away would be to rip it in half. But what can I do? What choice is there to be made? Do it slowly or quickly. That is the only choice and yet I am not convinced it qualifies.

I have to raise enough money to go to college. In order to do this I will have to whore myself out to people with scholarships in their pockets and burger shops with part-time labour. If this blog had eyes I would beg it softly to look away. But kindly remember that it is not by choice.

Where the hell did all the money go that I got from the CO? It seems to have blown away in the wind. I could use it now.

My father gets two days off every other week. Mother works equally hard. Mother organized a trip to St. Louis (As I have told you, I will not be able to participate). Father was angered because mother wanted to go on his two days off. He was angry. They yelled and fought. It's an strange thing how couples fighting is entertaining and funny on the television. It is not that way in real life.

But I knew father would go before the fight started. It was not his choice. He would not allow them to go alone to St. Louis because that is who he is. He had no choice in the matter.

In summation, I don't won't any reader to think I switch philosophies at the drop of a hat. And I'm sure he has questions. Do I still hate humanity? Of course, but now, it also takes the form of a gross pity that I can now understand. If I could destroy the world, I might do so out of kindness as well as hatred. But if it ever comes down to it, and I have the ability and do so. Keep in mind. It's who I am. I don't have a choice.

Do you believe that? Hahaha. I guess not. Always willing to cast away blame but never willing to absolve. That is the humanity I hate and one of the reasons I hate it. It's a vicious and ironic cycle that isn't worth a laugh.

-Sin

I Want Out

2006-05-15T23:14:00.000-07:00

As soon as I began this post I realized there was little reason to include a body to it, as the title seems to say it all. I want out of this job, this state and, if at all possible, this country.

This, in fact, may have the most perfect title of all my posts. Ever remember doing something you found distasteful knowing that no matter how distasteful it was it must be done. Like crawling through compost or soiling your person in order to accomplish a task. Imagine that, over the course of many years. Not college, I love college, I merely mean the years of blue collar generic burger flipping that it takes to earn your way through college. In a way, it makes me hate college a bit. I still am convinced that college is the ultimate con game. It prices a commodity that ought to be, in this country especially, free. It makes students sell their souls into debt just so they can learn their trade to survive.

Education to the priviledged and the determined. That is this country's motto. If your not well off or damned and determined you'll never learn. It's a load. The prices are rising as well.

Well I'm homeschooled, goddammit! If I got this far on my own, then fuck your diplomas! I can speak/read/write Japanese! I know Latin! I fence! I play the Piano! I play the Ocarina! I raise Orchids! I play Chess! I've written award winning papers! I study Kant! I'm versed in almost all important literary masterpieces! Your telling me that all of this is wasted as long as I don't have a fucking shred of paper that says I can do all this?

That I have to listen to lectures that tell me what I already know just so you can be sure? Fuck that! It's a con. As much of a con as 3$ for a gallon of gas.

...
greedy pigs.

When this world finds the time to die
I will be there with joy in my eye
Step into judgement, boil in justice
Watch as the righteous
Regard you at last
Forget about the future
Remember what has past
Your Sins are on you Now

When will that day come?
I want to own up
to what I have done
As much as I,
Want sentence passed
Against those fools

What I really want,
More than judgement or
a Handful of justice,
More than apologies
or the world to scream
or shout...
What I want...
I Want Out

Where good girls go to die, That's where I'll be. Waiting for my love with my heart on my sleeve.

-Sin

Well I'm just Shy and Scared of this Place

2006-05-14T21:55:00.000-07:00

LMAO.
Well, I had an interesting day. It appears that one of my coworkers has become romantically interested in me. LMFAO... Correction. She is interested in the meek polite cute doll-eyed blonde-haired blue-eyed marionette that dances for me on days I work. Only I could woo a girl by not being myself. I entertained the notion of returning her affections, if only to cure boredom. However, if I used the affection wisely I could gradually turn it to my advantage. Even though I cannot see how it would be helpful. There is a possibility, if I change gradually from the thing she sees day-to-day to my true self then I could train her to love the real me. *sigh* but unfortunately like all things love, it is more difficult the less it's worth.

I really have no use for affections. I've already sacrificed myself to enough obligations. There is always the danger that she might ensnare me... I doubt it. The average man is unaware to what length a woman goes to get the things she wants. Sometimes it is next to impossible to safely deny her and sometimes you are not even given that option.

The average man is prey for the average woman. The average man is an idiot. This woman thinks I am but average. It may be that ingenuous mediocrity that she adores, God knows it couldn't be me, because she hasn't the faintest idea with whom she is dealing. Even for a woman she has the subtlety of rinocerous. Her ministrations and machinations are poorly executed and her technique is clumsy. Why? It is too average. I have to admit, as a afficianado of beauty, she is not ugly in any way. But just as she does not know me, I know her well. She is readable in her methods and by whom she had selected. She is average. While I am not averse to her affections I cannot say they truly affect me. I am merely convenient to her at the moment. I am within reach, so she thinks. I am no special challenge, so she thinks. I am average, so she thinks. That is what she craves.

Interesting, if not slightly funny.

The issues at hand is: what to do with her affections? I can't say they are wanted and I know they are not reciprocated. At a loss, I think I'll wing it. It's been a long time since I've stretched my charisma. lol.

One way or the other, it's sure to give me something to do at work, which is worth it's wieght in gold.

In yet another case of gross human misjudgement, another of my coworker has taken to following me, pointing out missteps and making smart ass remarks. I am unsure why... There are a number of reasons possible. Among them are: to get me to react, to make himself feel superior, or he could be racially motivated. The are literally thousands of possibilities, however, they all fall under one huge category labeled "asshole." And as he is largely unimportant, both in the scheme of things and in my job, I've decided to let him perform his misanthropic drama.

All I've found at my job is more evidence against mankind as any force of innocence or goodness.

I am tired and it is late. I should sleep, but the coffee straining through my blood wires my eyelids open. This morning I ate donuts and coffee and I just kept drinking coffee. Right now I am wired more than a speedy chetah speeding on speed. It is an odd uncomfortable sensation. I am usually sedated by now, with my friend Z A N A F L E X.

I've had two casualties in my Orchid collection. But in the end, what do I fucking care, they're just flowers. They are the ideal way things ought to be: pretty, natural and frivilous. But in reality, they are a pain, they last about a month and they die. Much like average relationships.

-Sin

Mecum Omnes Plangite

2006-05-13T11:55:00.000-07:00

I live in the energizer bunny hell, it just keeps going and going and going. but enough of my complaints. Events are conspiring to promise some interest. I get an intellectual stimulation if I'm lucky, next weekend. My family has promised each other to go to Saint Louis and enjoy the various art/science museums, zoos and hopefully botanical gardens for saturday and sunday. How did I find this out? I was woke up at nine O'Clock by someone who should know better. She inquired whether I had to work next weekend and I told that I didn't remember but was sure I had to work at least once. She told me to take it off because we were going to Saint Louis. She left and I went back to bed thinking two things. One was "This is spontaeneous, I like it." and the other was "There's no way I'm gonna get the weekend off."

So the end result? I get taunted with promises of respite and intrigue. It's a petty fucking world and it has to get it's kicks from someone.

I'm sorry for the interuption. I just stopped to ask my mother, who planned the trip, if I couldn't get off if she would wait another week. The response was a veiled "no."

Fucking cold, if you ask me. Hope they enjoy themselves. Hope they fall off the damn Arch; hope Red Bird pecks them to death. Hell, I'll just go without them someday...by myself.

It's 2:24 PM according to my computer clock. I haven't had a single cup of coffee or a gasper. My hair is wet from my recent bath and my feet are stained green from where I came in from the freshly mowed lawn to help my mother and father move a picnic table. I have to be fully dressed and in uniform in an hour and thirty minutes so I can go to work for a five hour shift. I have to work today, tomorrow, the next day and the day after that. It's gotten where the few days that I get off, all I want to do is lay around the house and do nothing. Maybe I'm lazy, but you have to give me credit, I'm used to have much more free time.

When I get home I don't want to do anything cause I'm tired. When I have a day off, I think to myself "Hey, I don't have to work today! I'll just fuck around and veg out." When I wake up, which is usually at eleven or twelve because of either staying up late trying to get things done, watching TV, or dosing up on Zanaflex, I think, "I wanna sleep for a few more hours" and then low and behold it's 2:32 PM and I only have an hour and a half before I have to go to work all over again. It keeps cycling and cycling like that. I know in my heart that something has to give, otherwise I'll just plug myself. So I'll change, fucking change. Don't you just love change?

Goodbye cruel world I'm leaving you today.
Goodbye all you people there's nothing you can say
To make me change my mind.
Goodbye...

-Sin

It's Not a Matter of Amusing Prey

2006-05-11T23:29:00.000-07:00

Projects are so much harder to follow through when you have obligations on your time; especially when that time dwindles outside of your will. Nothing angers me quite as much as to go into work to find my schedule is to be altered to include even less time then it already holds. Gods forbid that my boss calls me or catches me at work. ...I am about instigate a no tolerance policy that if it is not on my schedule then I refuse to work it. I agreed to sell my time and they arrange AHEAD of a schedule each week which times are to be sold. I cannot afford to have more of my time bartered away when the agreed amount has already been demanded. It puts strains on a balanced system of stress accumulation and release.

Anyway...
My current projects are my Japanese lessons, a fresh batch of fermenting dandelion wine, a Star Wars KOTOR fanfic and a half finished copy of "The Name of the Rose". These three endeavors have suffered in the following ways: I haven't read Umberto Eco for about a week now. My Dandelion wine was left in the primary fermenter far too long and I was afraid the batch had been ruined, but it is now happily bubbling in the carboy. The fic is probably the only thing making any headway because I refuse to sacrifice it, and don't even get me started on 日本語. It is barely progressing.

For every day I work I have to have at least one cup of coffee, a bath, breakfast, and a bucket full of shattered dreams to have a mediocre day of wasted time. I say wasted only because I am not necessarily good with money. Generally, it just sits there forever. I can't decide how to use it since I worked so hard for it. Besides I hardly get enough time to spend any of it.

Today was a mishmash of Miss Fortune and Sir Prize. I am not even going into all that befell me today, because I dislike rehashing it.

My back/feet is/are hurting and my eyes are tired. I was supposed to be off tomorrow, but because of some halfwit twit I have to come in for three hours which means I don't even get a ten minute break and I have to work four continuous days in a row. I'd pat myself on my back and say "Well at least your making money", but the truth is I don't really need money; I need time and a massage. I need the CO, badly. I miss them so much. The effortless money and camaraderie. I was a leader of men. I made easy money. But those ties have atrophied and can no longer be traveled. It only makes the ache all the worse to realize this.

I was going to remark in this particular post how much I disagree with my previous post and why, but I just remembered my reasons for saying what was said. All in all I reiterate. This meagre existence in what modern man calls a "struggle for survival" is pitiful and unfulfilling. If only a major disaster could truly return the struggle to the "struggle" or if not just end it all before it goes on for the rest of my tortured life.

...God have I turned into a withered bitter existentialist bastard, or what?

-Sin

Wishes for Omnicide

2006-05-05T23:06:00.000-07:00

How many people would destroy everything if they could? What perecentage is there? Now take that percentage and compare it to the number of people who are in a position to organize such an endeavor. Does that frighten you? No? Good. It's all a bunch of 007 bullshit anyway, right? You don't believe in any of that melodramatic crap, do you? The law of averages determines that someone will make a willful attempt on the life of this planet and it's denizens; and considering the planet's weakened state that makes for quite a threat, doesn't it?

There was a doomsday device created by the Soviets during the cold war. A boat rigged to explode releasing a poisonous cloud of radiation that would circle the planet and corrode it. When scientists tested one of the first hydrogen bombs on bikini island they were unsure if the bomb would eat into the water and cause a chain reaction with all of that available hydrogen in the water and simply eat through the planet.

Am I inspiring that courage you had?

If mankind ever determines a way of killing, literally, everything he certainly will. I am not saying that there isn't already a way to do that it just isn't common knowledge, which, I am sure, is on purpose.

You don't really believe that there are people out there who would dare destroy everything? No one would be that insane, right? I can tell you that it's not insanity, it's pure utter disgust and hatred of abbominable creatures who have been giving a gift that they frequently abuse and rape. They even fight about who gets to abuse it the most. Each individual family unit of these beasts are striving their best to abuse this beautiful gift while simultaeneously trying destroy their competitors. If you look at all the greed, materialism, bloodlust, prejudice and gross displays of "humanity" or corruption then you would be a little more concerned for your species survival as a whole. I can assure you that if I ever gain the ability to destroy litterally everything I would not pause for a second. Some people like to take it out on various people and become murderers but I say, why display the very discrimination you oppose? Kill them all. If there is a God then it's high time for some justice to be dispensed and those who hastily judge be judged themselves.

That is, in fact, the main reason why Christianity and many other forms of religions are shunned. Because they judge people and people like to judge but not to be judged; it's a disgusting double-standard that ought to be bent backwards.

I take solace in knowing that that day is in the making. No matter who is right or who is wrong it all has to end some day. Sadly, I may not get to see it all crash, but like I said, I know it will happen and that is almost as good. Even if it doesn't I know that all you fuckers out there, no matter your disposition, sins or kind acts, will die. You will all die! Do you hear me? Your cell phones, sports cars, gated communities, Mason Clubs, jobs, savings accounts, investments, big screen TVs, music CDs, college degrees are all for nothing in the end. They accomplish nothing! You are rearranging furniture on a sinking ship or painting in a burning building. The only thing lasting enough to be worthwhile in this world is making scars. To make such a scar that will never heal, that changes things.

The last decade has been a triumph for my beliefs. I have seen entropy creep in and distable this distopian planet of greed. I have seen people begin murdering eachother for reasons that are neither defined or understood by either side. I have seen the biotope of this earth tilt and the greenhouse gasses triple. The weather has gotten more unpredictable. Tensions are sky high.

Vindication is at hand and the verdict for us is all the same no matter who we are. It is time for us to accept it.

God how angsty and anarchistic is all that?
lol
but all of it is true.
Someday soon you'll see.

-Sin

A Final Blow?

2006-05-03T11:47:00.000-07:00

I had a detrimental attack that seems to threaten my wall of isolation and my flame of indivduality. My mother accused me, saying that I was overplaying my distinctiveness and intellect to cover my deficiencies. Some bastard mutant form of inferiority complex overtook me and caused me to be the way that I am.

I find it funny, merely because it is so close to a half-truth. In my youth I was attacked by an inferiority complex the size of an F5 tornado. It did it's damaged but like so many growing things, the damage, far from stunting my intellect's growth, gave it cause to grow obscene and overcome.

Finally, I withdrew it from sight. I only allow my mother, father and sister slight glimpses of it. It now exists only as part of this blog site and in my own private inner voice. I cannot see it becoming any more than that.

A victim of an inferiority complex? Oh Yes. True. I am guilty. Overplaying it? Roflmao not exactly...

Through bitterness of being judged by those I find unworthy to judge me, I hid the intellect it makes me much more acceptable to the people I meet. As far as being overly arrogant? I am arrogant, but I promised myself two things when I adopted my ego. One it was because no great man can accomplish great things if he does not think himself great enough to attempt it. Two; I promised only to be arrogant for those people who are twice as arrogant but only half as deserving.

If I had to give a true name to my arrogance intellect I would not label it an inferiority complex as that is long gone. It was a weakness once, but I overcame it to such an extent it was no longer necessary. I would name my arrogance and intellect bitterness. Bitterness at being judged by beings that, themselves, ought to be judged. Bitterness of being hated. Bitterness of being outcast as a freak. Bitterness at having the only vent to expose my true self being this blog. Nowhere had I enjoyed actual freedom to be myself. Not the CO, the college, even the Socratic Society where there are plenty of egos to go around. You must understand that nowhere do I talk as I do here, do I say the things I say here, the way I say them here.

I've held my true self back for so long...so very long...even my mother is just now begining to suspect how I was made and even then she does not quite understand.

...
Is being understood so important...
I'd like to think not because I doubt anyone ever will...

-Sin

An Unrelenting, Consuming, Ballooning Tedium

2006-05-01T20:11:00.000-07:00

I often wondered why the majority of people, both in the writting community and in normal life, are unable to channel, produce or articulate the kind of imaginative ventures that I orchestrate day in and day out. I know now that I have experienced the crushing dullness of a part time position. It has diminished me in ways I can no longer count. It makes me absolutely beg for the days of the CO when money was so fluid and easily got.

I Forgot Who Wrote "Paradise Lost"!

I spent hours scraping my mind for the answer only to find dead ends. I was finally reduced to looking it up. PARADISE LOST! The Literature masterpiece. I could not remember the name of the famous aria from Carmen and could not remember who composed and wrote it. I had to look that up as well.

I feel like a degraded version of that dude I can't remember from "Flowers for Algernon" And I can't even remember his name...In fact this whole damn blog is turning into an odd interpretation of "Flowers for Algernon" It's even loyal to the diary format.

I can't help but think how magnificently practical and powerful we, as humans, would become without the monetary system. This line of thought leads however into the quixotic and impossible realm of utopias and communism. But hell, Mankind has always been known to have high hopes. It's just that such an aspiringly pure system as Communism is so easily corrupted. It's like those element on the tail end of the periodical table that can only exist for brief ephemeral span.

It's amazing that I wound up preaching on Communism when I assure you I had not intended to...

-Sin

Too Much, Too Fast, For Someone Who Likes to Take His Time

2006-04-26T11:44:00.000-07:00

It's incredible how much the slightest hint of a job has robbed from me. I can no longer think straight. My mind is constantly in a state of calculation to determine how much time I have before I have to reprise my dull tasks.

The job, itself, goes far too fast to my luxuriously slow pace. My mind, hands and nerves are not accustomed to being rushed through anything, much less having to coordinate in a rushed alien task that seems tedious after a spell. I am accustomed to riding around on a lawn mower or stripping tobacco or painting walls or so many thousand other menial nerve connections. But now I have to recieve encrypted data, interpret it, follow out it's sometimes specific and sometimes generic orders all in the space of mere moments. I have to keep track of several thousand whirling tasks that cannot be forgotten at the expense of my job. And often I have to do this all on my own. None of this is too much for me to do, but when you add a time limit issue on all the seperate tasks my mind starts to melt down and I often find myself starring out into nothingness when a task needs doing. I will stare at the screen packed with orders as if awaiting some frabjous proclomation or intelligible statement.

Perhaps more distressing are my coworkers. They are wonderfully polite and kind people who are quick to forgive my many mistakes and slow to anger. What distresses me is that I have to conduct myself in a manner that either mirrors them or is a bland polite shallow persona. A mask that fits their specifications and needs and not my actual face. I have a wide variety of masks and it is no difficulty to assume one all too perfect for their needs. My problem is that I already have so many masks I may, one day, confuse one with my actual face and lose the real me. I can think of nothing quite so disgusting and distasteful as being wedged shut into that vapid mask I forged for this job for the rest of my life.

I have been listening to Pink Floyd's the wall since I was given it at easter. An appropos gift seeing that I am now creating a wall, myself. One that buries me and protects me from all these frighteningly dull people. I found new meaning also to the lyric: "And the worms ate into his brain."

Finding that I have significantly less time to myself and my books I have become afraid. The self-preservation that was etched into my personality at the time of its conception is fully engaged and concerned. This very blog might be my last line of defense. A dictum recordari, or a carefully replicated matrix, seperate from the demanding, judging and critiqueing world.

I have to get ready, I leave for work soon. It is 2:09 PM now and I have to be there at 3:45 PM and it is a solid thirty minutes away. I work until 7:00 PM which is a smaller shift than normal.

-Sin

This One Goes Out to All the Worms, Screwheads, Bastards and Twisted Motherfuckers

2006-04-17T21:32:00.000-07:00

Good lord where to start...
I read a somewhat interesting article today about a sweet innocent 6-year old blonde-haired blue-eyed nature lover who was destroyed by a bear. The bear bit the child's head until she died. It also attacked the mother and baby half-brother. None of this puzzled me in the least, but it did leave me feeling extraordinarily empty. I would murder to have such a sweet child for a daughter. To raise, protect and mentor, but the beautiful gift was wasted on a family that exposed her to such dangers unprotected. None of this truly hurt my soul but something the father said was fascinating. He said that held no animosity towards the animal...

But why not? What is the harm in boiling in a hurtful rage and scouring the earth for the responsible beast and slowly drawing and quartering it a little every single second until it finally died of shock or some other tortuous fate. What moral standards have developed to protect animals from the same treatment they frequently administer to us? The mangled remains of that dear child now lay in a small child-sized coffin to be interred. It's true that dealing out death and judgement is discouraged in our very culture. Because it perpetuates violence. That is 1uite simply the most fatuous psychological statement I've ever heard. Of course it does.

I advocate shooting for impossible goals as much as the next man but mankind will never vanquish the monsters of the id. That primordial beast that wants to loot and maim will forever be a part of us. I suggest we use it to obtain our due. At least it's being constructive against animals.

Oh, my head hurts... Too many a twisted fucker in this world of ours. Thoughts return to Gacy, Dahmer and others.

My father is dealing with his own demons at the moment. The sneaky bastards that start off with a smiling face and then morph into a venomous cobra when is least conveinient. Betrayers. Judases Casiuses and Brutuses.

Roger Waters called them Worms
Hunter Thompson called them Screwheads

But really, what can you call them that does their painstaking efforts justice? They have the frozen lake of Cocytus and the ninth level of hell all to themselves...their own private spa. But what one name embodies their deep seated treachery? We in the US wasted so many proper curse words into the category of racial slurs such as nigger, cracker, honky, coon, slanties and others when they could've been used as research to find that perfect nomenclature for the Twistedus motherfuckerus
So what's the ruling? Sadly, no language has invented a word so harsh as to accurately describe these beasts. I have a word that I like btut webster wont talk to me. I like Traike from the latin traditor and snaca. But seeing we lack the proper WORD I'll use words...

Twisted motherfucking damned screwheaded sonofabitching snakeheaded lowly scat worms.

With love,
-Sin

Get Them Up Against the Wall

2006-04-16T21:28:00.000-07:00

So the job ensues. The rednexus ass opera continues. I find that in rejoining forces with blue collar America in gainful employment that I can now view the world with a little more contempt than before, which is always a welcome thing. It makes oppression all the more poignant and rebellion a sweeter fantasy than before. I've been listening to Pink Floyd more often to boost my irony points. I'm on a roll.

Why can't you simply look outdated morals and social obligations in the face and just shake your head? Standard of civitlity between millions of people who don't even know each other, why can't it just crumble? How come the celibrated tenants and keystones of a millenium dead aren't dead as well?
I no longer want a part of this country or any country besides. I want quiet isolation from judgement and generations that should be rethinking their mortality rather than reenforcing their morality.

I want a garden on a hillside with a house far from old and appraising eyes. Far from the twisted masses of even my own corrupted generation. Far from quotas, expectations, paychecks, dollar signs and pointless greed. John Laystone, my mentor, said that "greed was the reason for the deed." He said in reference to some historical event, but I've recently discovered it's true universal potential.

"If I had my way I'd have all of you shot!" Roger Waters said that
"As far as socially redeeming value, I hope I don't have any." John Waters said that
"If the world could be blown to sky I'd have my finger on the button." I said that

If the scrambling for material trappings doesn't remind you of rats packing their nests full of useless junk for no reason at all and totally disgust you at the same time, then you haven't been paying attention.

I originally consumed the idea that the only things worth having are immaterial, I now realize that was ingenuous and naive. If that were true then material things would eventually become important and to weaken yourself to that level would be a mistake.

But if immaterial things are not important what is the worth of life? Answer? It's cheap. In that sense materialism might be a survival instinct. I have to live, due to a curse of which I was once the subject. Thus all this garbage is necessary, but I refuse to grant it more than that and if world destruction becomes an option in the near future it will be considered. All this hurtand greed would be wiped away...

-Sin

Rest is Good for the Blood

2006-04-14T22:18:00.000-07:00

So I'm off on my own already...and here I thought I was behind. It's amazing how a day can change your perspective on the far off future. All this time I've been rresting and kickin it back while others worked and strived around me. Maybe I'm a late bloomer...or maybe I was sidetracked. After all I had the CO and college. Who knows. But I'm through being a ghost that drifts out of Zanaflex land long enough to do the minimum. I want out. Out of the habit, out of this state of Kentucky and this state of mind. I have been watching hallucinations out of the corner of my eyes. Peripheral phantoms that decompose when focused on. I feel hot and feverish and have been having a hard time sleeping and a little spazzed out but I understand it's normal.

Fuck...

It doesn't feel normal.

Speaking of blood, Dracula might not want to mess with me, my liver is probably screwed. Speaking of Dracula, I feel like a vampire. Why? Just my habits and aversion to light and social interactions. This is subsiding to my surprise I always thought it was permanant. I've been offered a job and I'm going to accept. My Florescu, challenge, foil, whatever. As Dracula would say: "Rest is good for the blood," but not Zanaflex, well I've had my share of both.

One last dose, to scare away the phantoms and let me sleep one last time.
Good night and good luck.

-Sin

A Ship Without a Storm

2006-04-14T10:15:00.000-07:00

Here I am, buttnaked in a beach towel soaked from a shower, listening to bad Dio songs while typing in my blog. I'm only seconds away from venturing into the big city to apply for jobs and to run a few errands. It was so exciting I couldn't wait to write it up.
Easter is coming up. Why, only yesterday did I and a few other believers wear black ash marks against our foreheads like some ridiculous cult. If you charge me with logic and challenge my beliefs, then you are simply wasting your efforts in a vulgar display. My beliefs know no logic and I have never tried to force them into that garish mold of logic. As one man from a syndicated discovery channel show once said "I reject your reality and substitute my own."

At any rate I am merely digging and searching for reasons and things to blog about. Since the CO, ...hell, disbanded I have had all of nothing to occupy myself. James and Math are the only members I get to see with any regularity. Of the two James is the only one thats made anything of himself. Math is lost like a little two-month- old puppy. Math would follow me around the world for the rest of my life like Chewbacca and Han Solo only because he can't think of anything to do by himself.

Little does he know that I, myself, the former leader of the CO, am still struggling with the concept of occupation. Just look at the title of this post and its content.

-Sin

Not Where you Wanted to Be?

2006-04-13T14:04:00.000-07:00

Waah! I'm not who I wanted to be! Waah!
Waah! I don't have the house, car and girl Waah!

Thats what your used to from me and my fellow bloggers. Whining. We didn't make it/get it/have it. What else is a constant in this world? People ask how you can believe in god when nothing turns your way. The real question is how those people can believe in Solipsism.

So this is the spot where I am supposed to relate that things just aren't going my way. That I still don't have a job/that I'm probably not going to be a successful writer let alone actually make it alive through college before I'm forty or ever at any time leave this tarpit called Kentucky. That my dubious future is doomed to obscurity and probably will be unhappy and unfulfilled. That any putative success even hinted at in any one of my posts is a product of my massive dominating imagination.

Well...fuck you.
My life is working out pretty well, if just slightly behind schedule.

さよなら,
-Sin

Dandy Lion Wine and The Woebegone Man

2006-04-08T18:38:00.000-07:00

Hello and welcome all. This is my little written woolgathering session.

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Thank you...

-Sin

Hair of the Wolf

2006-03-31T21:55:00.000-08:00

Today was remarkable in three senses, one: I went outside and basked in the glory of a perfectly beautiful day. And I mean beautiful. It was one of those days you get maybe five of every year and their absolutely gorgeous. It was about fifty-seven all day and shiny and blue. I enjoyed driving around town, smoking and generally F***ing around including applying for jobs. Two: I got absolutely staggering drunk on Bacardi rum, neat. It was by far my favorite drink and if ever I was in danger of becoming an alcoholic it would be from Bacardi Select. Three: tonight while my sister was at camp, mother and father were at a couples dinner I was alone on the ranch when I heard snarling and growling. I unlocked the door to see our two dogs duking it out with something else. It could've been a large Alaskin that lives down the road, a freakishly huge coyote or there's the possibility it could be a wolf.
Whatever it was three things could be said about it. It was much bigger than both our Black Lab and our Golden/GShephard. It took both our dogs to fight it off. And it took them about a minute and a half. When it was over with there was blood everywhere and one of our older dogs had been injured about the leg and neck.

A Celebratory Deathmatch of Motives

2006-02-24T12:54:00.000-08:00

My father has accepted a higher paying position closer to home then the work environ he had been at for 22 years. We decided a celebration in his honor was apropos. We chose our favorite pizza parlour and had a great fling. I drank a pint of Strawberry flavored Lambic by the Melborne bros and tossed back a few regular ones as well. We watched sports, ate pizzas and stromboli until we could scarecly walk. I wish I could tell you this was the end of a happy day...but not so.

Once home, my father assaulted my short commings in a series of disapproving speeches. It escalated to a smear campaign that had me nearly to tears at the way he had dared flaunt his successes over my obvious failures.

Choking back harsh words, tears and hateful observations, I retired to my room to sulk. My motives, only recently have been laid bare and even I must confess that father was indeed the one who made these motives obvious, though perhaps not intentionally. They are, of course, to accelerate to a profession with the least effort humanly possible. And I must admit these motives have not served me very well.

Whereas I excel at most everything, it is not difficult to find my kryptonite. Algebra.
It's not that I can't fathom it. It's merely that I would rather saw open my skull remove my brain and scrape it over a sidewalk. It's very difficult for me to not be good at something. I know how that sounds, but that is the truth of the matter. Quite plainly, I am unused to it. If I do not know something, then I grind my skills until I do, assimilating like the borg. But Algebra is the poison pill, and unbreakable barrier between me and my profession. And it is not vital to my profession nor my current degree, yet for some asinine reason it is a requirement. Not just plain algebra, but advanced algebra. So far it's been like a cripple trying to climb Mount Everest. I can only hope that the slope(god1@$@mutha&%*%sonofa$&R^ing$%##Algterms) lessens so that I can advance.

-Sin

Whiskey in the Jar

2006-02-13T15:39:00.000-08:00

I thought the title was apropos because I'm totally arseholed. Not in the mean sort of violent-rabid-dog sense nor in the Dumbass-Hyena way. I'm riding the creative-tripping-buzz. It's near the philosophical stage and past the spiritualist wavelength.

Good old Green Goddess. Her and a spoonful of sugar to make the medicine go down.

Tomorrow I've got the Socratic Society and an open invitation to the first monthly meeting of the Canterbury Pit. I'm going to the SS, but not the latter. I can't miss the chance to fight with bullshit and save the world with arguments that never really made any sense. I've also got the damn Algebra class. It's fit for a fourteen year old and its beneath me. It's not that I can't understand it, it's merely that I'd rather headbutt a stonewall. You can pick just about anything and there's a eighty-four percent chance I'd rather be doing it than a semester of algebra.

My miltonias have died and the took the Vandas with them. Just not enough supreme heat with humidity to keep them alive. My Oncidiums have broken out in yellow scentless blooms. My Phal Harlequin has sported a Keiskeis, but it wont develop any damn roots. I was going to pinch it off and give it to my Sis but not until its atleast twice the size it is now. Mom's Spathiphyllums are fine despite a short Magnesium deficiency.

I made the other day a mold of some of the best Liver Patte ever. I like it so much I'll give out the recipe. On my Recipe site. lol not here.

This is me tottally passing out and signing out

-Sin

The Flight of the Sapient

2006-02-12T20:49:00.000-08:00

In the world today, all members of the high-minded, polished and attuned have silenced. Like some nightmarish version of Rand's "Atlas Shrugged", we seem to be running off of the strained cognizance of political half-wits and dying saviors. Sharon is dying and Iran's maniac head-of-state is employed trying to smear Israel off the planet. From every corner of the planet we hear the rising sound of this Idiopathic breed of non-reason and extremism. They come foaming at the mouth clawing and biting at a thousand years of barely maintained human civility and what is our reaction? Look around you. What you see is what you get...and I must be blind because I don't get it.

I see nervous countries trying to placate and calm their attackers. I see compromise after compromise. Even the few who dare stand against it are seemingly swallowed by a wave of conflicting contradiction of political correctness and (Dare I say it?) UN niceties. So while we compromise, hoping to soothe the fire out with words, the world burns.

It's enough to make one hate politics, individuality, newscasters, newspapers and death.

*gasp*

Good Lord!

How the hell did I wind up talking about all this?

I've been procrastinating with Algebra again. It's so hard to focus on such a gray topic when there is so much happening around you. Actually there isn't really THAT much going on. Okay so it would take me forever in Limbo with a Gorillaz Cd, Beer, pencil and paper to do it. But Algebra is such a gray topic.

-Sin

Alcohol and Me

2006-02-11T11:24:00.000-08:00

As if I weren't in enough trouble already, but I am now fully qualified to go in any spirit shoppe in America and purchase what I will. Being the excellent researcher I am, I choose the beverage that I could both enjoy and afford. It is no secret to the readers of this blog that I am a Licorice fan. Glycyrrhiza glabra all the way. So, finding that I couldn't purchase my more favored names (due to problems arising from availability or wallet concerns) I bought one pint of Jagermeister. It was only when I got home that I realized I was equiped to drink alone, but not prepared. I told father that I had bought the pint and he, after showing his disapproval of my choice, demanded at least two glasses. I agreed, thinking to myself that the two of us sharing a pint would make it impossible for us both to achieve the falling-down-drunk stage and thus would save us from the festering hangover to come.
And as I thought, my expectations where put in short order. Father and I simultaeneously reached the stage of falling-down-drunk right after we passed the philosophical stage, which in my opinion was an odd jump. We proceeded to fall down and laugh and make asses of ourselves in fron of my little sister, not to mention the noisome hangover that followed. I am currently investigating in the proper amount to achieve a nice buzz without losing all of my dignity or my "little grey cells".

As to the flavor of Jagermeister I must admit I was pleased and disappointed. Part of me wanted it to be a perfect licorice liquor the other part of me wanted something that had an inventive and interesting flavor. It tasted as though the color of the drink should be hunter green (no pun intended) yet it's color is such that it would be impossible to distinguish from a glass of cola...

All in all I've determined that heavy drinking is simply not for me. However, I did come to the conclusion that light occasional drinking would be a nice addition to my infrequent habits.

-Sin

The Days of Hyperreality, Fashion and Alcohol

2006-02-04T21:44:00.000-08:00

I have been absent for some two months now. The use of the word "absent" does not necessarily pertain exclusively to this blog. My absence was pandemic. After Christmas I sank into a computer rendered hyperrealistic microcosm called a MMORPG. Specifically, Star Wars Galaxies.

I find it entertaining and yet somewhat unsettling... but that is an issue all to itself.

BTW, word goes out to Darkth Sirbai and his Estates on Lok in the Naritus Galaxies. lol.

For Christmas I recieved two gift card for clothes and have just recently used them. I got a shirt that says "Classically Trained" and has a picture of the old NES system on it. I bought a hideous gray pink and green shirt with paisley designs on it...why...because I'm obnoxious. I bought a green sports jacket, a gray beret, green corderoy pants, and a pair of Black faded jeans.

And for the last section...I am currently legal age to drink as of Feb. 2. Though I haven't drank anything yet...Ironic? Yes and no. I would normally buy a bottle of wine or a tank of bourbon/rumplemintz/jagermeister/bacardi/grandmarnier/ however I've lost my license for the eighth time YES I'M KEEPING COUNT!

anyway...thats my life.

goodnight

-Sin

A Cheap Life, But It's a Living

2005-12-20T00:13:00.000-08:00

So here I am, twenty minutes after finishing my task of dunking the seasonal Bourbon Balls in chocolate. My mother brewed a tray full of Turkish Delight in honor of the Narnia movie. My kid sister dunked a bunch of pretzels in white chocolate and my father fell asleep on the couch. It's two in the AM and I'm sitting in the computer chair typing by the light of our family Christmas tree in our barely sixty-degree warm house. To the left of my keyboard is an ordinary table glass filled with ice, Diet Coke and Maker's Mark. And for you inquisitive bastards out there, we don't have regular cokes. Our Christmas tree is encircled with packaged excess and boxed materialism. No less than four days from now, our tiny cozy ranch will be swarming with atleast fourteen people, all of them bringing hot trays of something in from the cold.
Three days from now I'll be in a cluttered kitchen trying to assemble fifty or so damned mushrooms stuffed with shredded cheese, clams, bread crumbs and spices. I'd rather cook a five course meal than try and fix those damn mushrooms. I HATE cooking those damned mushrooms. I'd rather build a jet fuel rocket shove it up my ass and try and fly myself to the moon than cook those damned mushrooms another year. My Parents will be fixing the same dish they've fixed every Christmas since I remember, Prime Rib with Dijon mustard crust. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm still here sipping coke and bourbon.
The last three days I've had vertigo and paid a visit to my doctor. He told me that I had fluid in my ears and gave me Antivert. I would take some now but I've been drinking. Come to think about it...which came first the bourbon or spinning? I'll say spinning just to advocate my own sanity.

This Christmas we were to each make out a list of what we wanted to be aproved and selected from. When asked to produce mine, my mind went blank. I quickly called up my old froogle wishlist and printed a section of it. A day or so later I was teased as to my list and was told it was an insane easter egg hunt. I had forgot what I had put on it so I looked it back up only to find it full of some of my esoteric fancies. Usually my list is carefully planned filled with mugs, socks and incense but this year there were calls for Carl Orff, Don Giovanni, Daniel Schrieber, Jorge Borges, Umberto Eco and such. What's there to do but blush and say "oops."

Lately, I've been flipping through "Murder on the Orient Express." I find it excellent as always, but I still think the movie with Albert Finney is superior to the book in certain respects.

In my closing comments I would like to apologize for the lack of articulation coherence and spelling errors. I am just slightly inebriated (SP?) or whatever. I'm sleepy too. I think I'll lie down, drink some more and watch some faithful MSTs. Til then, this is Sinister wishing you a very merry Christmas, or, if you find that offends you, then piss off!

-Sin

2005-12-06T22:30:00.000-08:00

Beyond that darkness is my gothic corridor right out of Lord of the Rings. Unfortunately, my camera was running out of battery, space and light to work by.

2005-12-06T22:22:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure who this is, but I would hazard a guess that it was Mrs. Coffman. You can see my camera cover ontop of the rubbings I did, along with my soiled shoes at the top of the screen.

2005-12-06T22:20:00.000-08:00

Mr. Kelly's Stone. He is the oldest occupant here, being born in 1789.

2005-12-06T21:57:00.000-08:00

A picture of Mr. Brown's stone with a blurred me on the left hand side. You can see those odd plants all around.

2005-12-06T21:55:00.000-08:00

The Reverend of the church that presumably spawned the graveyard. The church, itself, is long gone.

2005-12-06T21:54:00.000-08:00

The field that the kirkyard lies beyond. Perhaps you can see that patch of woods? Behind that line of tree is a steep hill that leads to the stones.

A Grimly Fiendish Oubliette...

2005-12-06T21:23:00.000-08:00

My father and I discovered an evil place if an evil place can be described as a once holy place that was violated. One of the pleasures of living deep inside an abandoned and forgotted edge of America is the lost landmarks. My father remembered an old kirkyard that was in the middle of a wooded spot that was in the middle of a farmer's circle of fields.

We had planned for weeks to make a trip there, but only recently did we come under the right...shall we say "influence" to trespass. We drove out to the spot. It was after a fresh rain so we had to be careful of our footing. The ground of the field had the consistency of swampland and we had to be careful not to lose our shoes in the mushy loam. We more or less jumped and hopped from one island of dry land to the next until we reach the side of wooded hill. The ground was thouroughly quilted with this strange unknown vining plant, seemingly a honeysuckle variety. Tripping occasionally we topped the hill to find ourselves surrounded by corroded sinking markers some dating back to the late eighteenth century.

There, amongst the well-fed terra and that grisly melting circle of cold memorial, I spent my next two hours. I sifted from one gravestone to the next, collecting pictures, names and making a few rubbings.
After the light was fading and i had made my way through most of the stone I saw something very humbling and beautiful. I tried to capture it on film, but failed. I ended up with an awkward bit of a home-made movie and some pictures that were two dark and alien to capture it.

Past the graves, like the inside of a cathedral, was an archway of trees. The wooded corridor stretched out and looked like the foyer to a grand gothic santuary. Thankfully, even if you don't believe this tale I have fotos to prove my veracity.

Half of the stones were small tear-stained blocks with the names of children who barely made it out of infancy if they lived a day at all. I do not exaggerate when I say half.

I say violated because many of the graves were dug. The rotted remains of the coffin were not visable due to that strange ubiquitous plant. Not noticing the slight depression in that carpet of fallen leaves and the vining plant I fell into one of the graves and had to claw back out. In essense, I had entered a grave much earlier than I had intended.

I promise to post these pictures. I would not make such claims without backing them with proof.

-Sin

If Time is the School in which we Learn...

2005-12-06T20:39:00.000-08:00

...Then mistakes are the hard-ass teachers that you want to stab to death. Today I was on my way to school when my car's front/right tire blew. A few severe curses later I was in the cold liberating the spare with the shitty jack that came with it. I read the damn manual and jack the car up only to find that the wrench that came with my car refuses to fit any of the nuts. A few harsh words later I have my cell phone in hand shouting out words to my father who is forty-five miles away.

...Eventually he comes to my rescue, which I have to wait thirty minutes to recieve only to find that none of his wrenches will fit. He calls road service and leaves me to wait a further thirty minutes whilst they arrive. My cousin pulls up, flips me off and then talks with me for a while before she leaves for her college. The roadside service pulls up and changes the tire. I watch him leave, then I eagerly get in my car and turn the key in the ignition only to be answered by a clicking noise. I call my father, he answers. I tell him that the battery was dead but before I can say anything else I hear a beeping. My cellphone battery is also dying. I yell this out only to have the phone click off. Thirty minutes later my uncle arrives with jumper cables, oil and a wire brush. Turns out my battery nodes were corroded. I knew this but did not act on it, just as I knew that my tire was worn.

...Alot of curse words that day...

On to bigger and brighter things...

-Sin

Pricking Through Candy Lane Under Skies of Green

2005-11-15T19:11:00.000-08:00

My triannual trip to Candy Lane. I get to pick two flavors and sup on them for the remmainder of the cold year. I had this pallette of flavor to choose from. How could I go wrong? I thought to myself: "Hey Chris, why don't you try some tinned tobacco this time?"
...Chris...oh Chris. You naive bastard! Why?! Mac Baren has nothing on fresh mixed shag! So I end up with what Mac Baren calls it's Latakia blend. It's Latakia in that someone carried a tray of Latakia past the bin of this particular blend. This blend, near as I can figure with my supersensitive taste buds is Virginia leaf with cavendish and some perique. It bites like a mutha, my tongue is still numb. If it overheats it tastes like soap, it burns slow and with difficulty. It comes in roll cakes and if you smoke it just right, there is a rewarding flavor but God help you if you draw too much on it.
I also sampled some of the Cavalier, which is pictured here. It has a flavorful delightful taste.

On my way home I end up at the Ranch with my bent apple Peterson filled with tobacco that smelled like freshly pickled Chipotle peppers...I notice the sky. I thought it looked a little dark and what with everything that happened to my poor neighbor, Indiana, I thought it might be advisable to seek shelter.

Two hours later, I am underneath my Uncle's carport peeking outside with my loaded pipe in one hand and a beer in the other surrounded by the rest of my family and that fucking cat of theirs...

First I should explain that my Uncle has the only basement for miles around. So when tornados decide to assault the Slaughter's knoll we all run for cover to my Uncle's. Its our version of family-get-togethers. We repeat this ritual at least five times a year in the fall and spring.

That was my day...
Fan[fuckin]tastic

No more God, please!
-Sin

Of a Demon in my View

2005-10-25T12:11:00.000-07:00

Last week was astounding. It has no parallel. First day of the week and I wanted to fling myself from the dover cliffs. Second day of the week was so fantastic it made me feel bad about feeling so good. But looking back on the whole week I think I lost out. I've lost one friend and possibly one friend and an acquaintance.

What's this? It's a spot audit ladies and gentleman, it's where my conscience creeps up and jumps on my back. "You shouldn't have felt that way, you should have said this, your behind on your journals." He's an annoying little fucker.

But truth be told, I haven't even started on my exam which is due tomorrow, I haven't begun either of my three journals that are due at the end of the semester. I've been find too many things that I keep thinking is more important like reading "Critique of Practical Reason", writing, practicing the ocarina or fiddling around with old latin text. I've been stalling and I'm not sure why. If my grades fall this semester it could put all my hard work in jeopardy. I suppose I ought to do something. This is Sinister signing off.

-Sin

A Wish Was Granted; And God Smiled

2005-10-19T16:52:00.000-07:00

Today was the polar opposite of yesterday. I arrived into the Socratic Society and found my long lost books and backpack. We commenced into a discussion concerning beauty. I defined beauty to my best ability. Then my intellectual superior went into a half hour dissertation on how my definition was too generic and defined beauty, then bragged. Pride comes before a fall.

All while he had lectured, I quietly composed my thoughts. My mind gathered storm and attacked. I took his theory and "Definition" and slammed it to the wall. The other members began to pounce on him and eat him alive. They made jokes at his expense and ridiculed him. I watched on, sweetly smiling.

It was like an intellectual orgasm. He had stuck his out and used poor idiotic logic and was destroyed. Despite the sweetness of my victory I find that I cannot describe the event accurately.

-Sin

Blows Rasberry

2005-10-18T23:50:00.000-07:00

Today was one of the biggest clusterfucks of the season. After losing a third of my books and papers, I was conned, late, nervous, and had to watch an awful movie. I was also challenged by one of the most notoriously hard-assed teachers to sign up for one of his classes. I came home only to find that one of my friends died in an accident whilst yet an aquaintance commited murder and attempted suicide only to blow his lower jaw off.
In fact, there isn't a goddamn thing I can say about today that would make anyone smile. It was all one big nightmare.

I lost my pipe and tobacco, no ciggys, no money for a Mac. I also found out today that the college I had planned on changed their catalogue by the deletion of my very degree.

I LOVE days like these. Because they test your mettle. A normal day is much harder to take. It's days like these that make you lean back in your easy chair and giggle when your house catches fire, your neighbor rapes your dog and pours sugar in your gas tank.

I am sorry about Douglas and even sorrier for the shotgun riddled Keith.

I have only one question for the universe to end this capital day.

"Am I on candidmotherfuckinhcamera?"

-Sin

Thoughts of a Dying Bastard

2005-10-16T20:44:00.000-07:00

In this essay of my own death. I examine my mortality and prompt you to do the same. We must prepare for the worst. No matter your beliefs, if your an asshole or a dashing gallant wonderul person, you will die. Want to surf somewhere else, by all means. Run, run, run while you can.
Let's harden our skin so that we may discuss the subject without dispair. It helps to think of death as a noble undertaking or perhaps as a joke or maybe just an answer to an eternal question. Immortality is for cowards. With that attitude in mind let's move on. Examine your lifestyle and habits and realistically use foresight.
Here is an example of my own mortality. Consulting the occult can be a nifty resource. I have discovered that I will live to be 53 and will die of wasting away by vices and stagnation.
Realistically, I imagine I will die much in the same way as my father in a state of corpulant unhealth caused by overeating, drinking and smoking. Hopefully I will, by such time, have been successful in business and love.
I consulted a personality test for some insight. It said I was psychologically sadistic and amoral. It compared me to Hannibal, Dr. Mabuse, Dr. Frankenstein and other reprehensible characters. Naturally, my ego flourished. All in all I think it will be very interesting to see how it all ends.
I remember when I was child, going to get a shot. My heart was flipping and flopping in excitement and anticipation. In many ways, the experiences should be the same. But you must accept that theere is no escaping your fate. In fact, it is getting closer. We need to remember that we are not, after all, gods.

-Sin

As the World Falls Down

2005-10-16T00:24:00.000-07:00

You hear a lot of strange things in these ominous days. You hear of earthquakes, hurricanes, tsunamis, scary politicians, falling skyscrapers, burning government buildings, hijacked planes, London bombings, invaded countries, falling econimies and rising gas prices. Someone around here was cursed with the old Chinese curse: "May you live in interesting times."

It makes one want to snuggle up upon the couch with a hot cup of tea and read a paper instead of a novel, watch the news rather than a movie. It also begs the question: "How interesting does it get?"

One of the questions I remember asking my parents and being asked by my friends was: "What would you do if you knew the world was going to end?" I replied that I wanted to watch. It may seem that I got my wish and that it is simply a more drawn out process than I might have imagined.

You may think that's overplaying the alarmist, but what you don't understand is that the secret of the universe is change. The universe has just as short an attention span as ourselves. Time itself is just a measurement of progressive change. If you think that the status quo of society will always exist then you are more diluted than I am. The media has offered you the choice of the nightmare of your dreams. Just select a favorite: old testament prophecy, meteors, global warming, another ice age, nuclear holocaust, George Bush. It's all a matter of taste and they are all quite tasty to the media, as you can tell.

So the question here is? Am I satirizing the media, commenting on current affairs, am I being paranoid, or am I being candide? Perspective, my friends. Do you want to buy panic from the media, do you see the polar caps melting, do you smell the greenhouse gasses? Is it happening? I assure you one way or another, slowly or quickly it is happening and you are watching it. Doesn't matter what's causing it. So spend nights watching CNN, buy a new hybrid car if it gives you that special delusion.

In the end what will happen?

One word, baby. You got to love it.

Change...

-Sin

All I Want is My Piece of Mind

2005-10-14T11:23:00.000-07:00

An issue has been brought to my attention and I wanted to address it. What is it, you ask? What is right and what is wrong? Morals? Religion? Politics?

To all of those of you who want to bitchslap eachother over who has the bigger dick or which team should top out at the end of the season. Over who stole your man or girl. Over what adverse effect religion has on freedom or how evolution is torching our crop of freshly brainwashed children. Over how Bush should be assasanaited or how we should lay off him. Or what we should do in Iraq. Over whether gays should be allowed to marry or if there should be gays at all.

Fuck all you people!

What the hell does any of that fuckin matter in the fuckin slightest you lobotomized petty shallow sons of bitches. We have little less than a hundred years on this planet if we play our cards right. I'm only worried about living well and surviving my quota. What the hell does any of this matter. Progress, regression? Pay your bills, brush your teeth, pray (if that's your thing) and live a happy fuckin life.

*shakes head*

Forgive me if I'm blunt but I've put up with too much of this ridiculous pointless competition. All it does it make the world an even more uneasy and dangerous place to live. I wish I could wail on one group for this, but that's probably what started it all.

EVERYBODY JUST LIVE A HAPPY LIFE!!!

-Sin

Sinister Versus Dexter

2005-10-09T22:45:00.000-07:00

In hallowed halls we met
One against the other
Left and Right, East meets West
Our sensibilities beset

His head was lowr'd
My weapon rais'd
I swung and hit
He tottered back

His vorpal sword rang out
Snicker snack wicker whack
It hit my neck
It left a bruise

My dark sword was cold
His blood spilled hot
His Jaberwocky broke
No more we fought

Allowed enough blood to blush,
He turned and ran far from
This perilous field, Left
has triumphed and right has fled

-Sin

The Niceties of Hell

2005-10-07T18:46:00.000-07:00

My family and I, including my grandparents and recently discovered long lost uncle, trecked to Henderson in Henderson county to go to the John James Audubon park for the annual fall craft festivals. I accompanied my family on this yearly tradition with great expectation. Thoughts of funnel cakes, fried candy bars, homemade gourmet fudge, Philly steak and cheese sandwich with extra onions, and many other detrimental foods.

Marshmallow and choclate fudge was supreme. The funnel cakes were nice and iron hot. The philly steak and cheese were a little too salty for me but still good. There were no fried candy bars. Some wine tasting was done and plenty of sourmash and bourbon.

It's things like the fall festival that keep Kentucky from sinking into madness.

-Sin

All I Ever Said Was "Huh?"

2005-10-06T22:18:00.000-07:00

I woke up two hours ago after a massive headache. They've been occuring more frequently accompanied with lost tracks of times and every now and then I pass out. I've been needing more Zanaflex in larger doses. Honestly, I seemed to be sleeping and going to school and then coming back and sleeping. I am living in between the drives from home to school and vice versa.

Anyway, we discussed the ethics and morals of cannablism in the Socratic Society. They made their case for cannibalism and I told them off for being a bunch of stupid gits. They gutted the principals of Christianity and stomped on them while I watched from the side, more than a little amused. Their overzealous hatred not only destroyed any logistics in their arguments but also belied their overwhelming fear of Christianity. I only found my voice when they extinguish their torches and hid their pitchforks in favor of logic.

We had a back and forth when I realized I was talking to a group of men and women who knew how the universe came into being. I left the society on friendly terms of increduality.

I left them to jerk off their insecurities. All that matters is that they feel better. Really this is an area that should be met with levity. No one knows these things and mankind will never be in a position to understand them.

By the way Cannibalism would make things much more interesting as far as social structure goes. I think congress should opt for a trial run. I'll give you all a head start, but I've got some great recipes ideas straight out of Dr. Fell's cookbook.

In film class we watched the atrocity named "Regarde la mer" (See the Sea) by the man with his hand on his gland: Francois Ozon. Not to mention the "Eyes Wide Shut" scene where she takes five minutes straight to get out of bed. The heroin leaves her baby on a beach and in a bath tub, she humps the notch on kitchen chair, recieved oral sex from a strange homosexual man. Then another woman arrives who asks disgusting questions and who rubs toothbrushes onto turds. One of the women stabs the other to death with a pair of sizzors (mostly in the vagina) and steals the baby.

I understood the small dose of profundity the movie carried. But the payload wasn't worth all the chair fucking/turd brushing/vagina stabbing/gay oral sex/baby neglect/child thievery/exhaustingly slow paced bullshit. Oh but what a day today qualifies as. But I knew I was out of luck the day, the day the movies died.

It's time for me to take more Zanaflex and relapse back into a coma.

-Sin

A Cut Above the Rest

2005-09-27T11:19:00.000-07:00

I have met many of my intellectual superiors in my life. Each were more fascinating than the last. Admirable men and women. My friend Joseph is my superior in math(Which is not the greatest claim) Brice was my superior in History. Suzie was my superior in chemistry. Joshua was my superior in biology. I looked on them as consultants of the highest grade and good friends. Even Joseph (by far the most intelligent) I could converse on equal footing in every other subject.

But lately a pseudointellectual witling has emerged from the detritus of the bland Kentucky intellectual ring. This man would have you think he is god. He will interrupt the teacher with long drawn out dissertations on every subject his voice has more pauses than a Pinter play and he will not stop gabbing unti he is heard out. His sense of humor has the characteristics of a child. He has the appearance of a person who is severely retarded or mysogynic. I am instantly reminded of an episode of Aqua Team Hunger Force where the ATHF is pitted against a creature called Wayne the Brain. He speaks in unimpeachable vaguries to where the only response is an incredulous stare of disbelief. Listening to him is like listening to a master double talker. One that simply will not shut up, yet never says anything that contributes to the general discussion. Simply bursting with phrases of excrementitious abortions.

Yet every now and then he does exhibit a quality of intelligence, and were it not for that singular quality I would've killed him by now. He is in three of my four classes this semester, which is suspicious enough. Not to mention he is also a semester long member of the socratic society.

But I swear on God's bloody sword if he does not shut the fuck up I will have him lynched! I cannot go into one of those classes with out fearing or wondering about how long I will have to listen to him.

Possibly more frustrating is that everyone seems to be thouroughly impressed with him. The illusion simply destroys them and all that is heard is his long digressions in bullshitese. I can't seem to cut him down because anything he doesn't know he quotes in these unimpeachable ramblings that don't make enough sense to be destroyed. And the things that he knows are absolutely correct.

-Sin

Uneasy Aftermath

2005-09-22T11:15:00.000-07:00

It's well know even to the readers of this blog that my pride has taken a direct hit and is somewhat staggered. Not that my pride has been assaulted, but that it has inflated so large it has ruptured. I woke up and looked in the mirror and asked the question "What the hell am I so proud about?" When I admited to myself it was a valid question my ego burst into flames. Supposedly, my intellectual speed is so advanced, and that I am so cunning, but the fact remains I am not by any stretch a great man. I am far too lazy to be a great man.

I had to prepare a critical essay on the movie adaptation of the book "The Orchid Thief." I had already seen and read both of them so only the matter of sitting down and typing it up remained. I stayed awake until five in the morning and polished it until it shined. I arranged it in MLA format with parenthetical quotations, a working bibliography and a work cited page, double spaced, four pages and approx. 500 words.

When I took it with me to my class I found that many of the other students brought in a page of single spaced text without so much as a date or title on it.

Is there a god? We shall see!

-Sin

The Screaming is Ending...

2005-09-15T22:27:00.000-07:00

This is the low point. I haven't seen a person I know for about a month. It's been work, college, and zanaflex induced sleep. Only a bunch of pointless faces of generic people that you are forced to know under trying circumstances. The CO has disbanded permanently to my knowledge. James, Math...I won't see them again. Olivia left for UK. Jonathan left for Memphis. I'm still stuck in the same Podunk tar pit and the only consolation is that I only have about a five month waiting period before I can legally drink myself to death.

WTH?

...What did I do all of a sudden. Why did everyone disappear behind a door that I can't seem to find? Why am I bereft of friends so suddenly? It makes you not want to wake up. It makes you want to swallow enough zanaflex to have just one last dream and hedge your bet that it could be a happy one. It discourages you from going to work or bothering with college. It's like trying to hack your way out of a jungle knowing you'll die before you ever make it out.

I'll be honest. I never intended to live this long. I intended to die at the age of twenty and the way things are going it's not gonna happen, it's just this metaphorical Chinese water torture of obscurity and nihility. I'd rather burn in hell then kick stones in Slaughters Kentucky.

Contemplating suicide has occurred to me. And if it wouldn't totally devastate my parents I wouldn't hesitate. But I apparently owe it to them to exist in this stranded half-life.

If were to kill myself...I would have only one regret. I always wanted to be in love. I would've liked to have had someone to hold, worship, and dote on. I would've loved to have had a little daughter that I could read stories to and guide.

What turned me into such a failure so quickly? I am by no means ugly or puny. I'm not an unkind person nor a stupid git. I am egotistical but only as far as to deal with those who are twice as egotistical and half as deserving. I am not lazy. I just... I dream too much. I'm an idealistic fool. Love is a concept that my teacher told was invented as a game in the middle ages by bored horny nobles. Then why does every shred of my being detest the very notion. Of course the teacher is a dolt...but. I must admit I have seen nothing that destroys his theory except the Hollywood propaganda pushed by Hugh Grant, Julia Roberts and so forth...

I used to hold out hope that perhaps I just hadn't met her... but I'm twenty now. My parent's married when they were nineteen. Am I that invisible? That...

It's the deepest pit I've been in and it's not getting any better.

If I could just put this all to some sort of end. I'm too tired. I'm tired of bullshit politicians of arrogant fucks of hate. But mostly I'm jealous. I'm jealous that everyone's life worked out in some modest way or other and that mine is fading. That it's failing in such a smothering and torturous way. It's enough to make one bitter.

Perhaps it's because I'm such a whiny useless fuck...or hey it could be a problem with self-esteem, lol. I was loved and I loved at some point. I don't quite understand what force slammed it to a grinding end. Or what dumbass thing I said or what I didn't do. It was a wonderful experience and though I doubt it will be reprised I would give anything and everything for another year. I can't help but think I had so many chances and threw them away. Who is the ultimate loser? The man who dies unsung and unloved.

To think that so many things could've been different. The fact that a singular coincidence of luck and fortune of one of a billion of different combination of possibilities caused me to have a chance at life and that I took that chance and blew it on not a damn thing worrying an hour about.

I've only got approx sixty more years. Everyone my age is either married pregnant or engaged or any combination of the aforementioned statuses. I see plenty of people who are as unfortunate as me, but it does not lighten my heart.

In summation, I would like to dispel some utter bullshit sewn by loving mothers and old idioms. There isn't always someone out there for everyone. Someone will always die alone. Whoever said "It's better to have lov'd and lost than never to have lov'd at all" is in hell now. He's being eaten up with the flames of loneliness and misery which gives a little spice of irony.

-Sin

2005-09-06T11:29:00.000-07:00

It is My United States of Whatever

2005-09-05T22:44:00.000-07:00

My mother recently returned from a trip to Biloxi, Mississippi. So that my insipid little sister could see/pet/kiss/swim with a Dolphin. They returned a week before that sweet little chaos maker...Katrina. I am bombarded with before and after photos of their Hotel and the various resteraunts and shops they visited there.

I am tremendously indebted to Hurricane Katrina in several ways. She has shown to me an admirable example of, what in Joseph Conrad's honour, is called the "Heart of Darkness Complex". Inate, buried deep in the aspect of the human subconscious, the HOD Complex stipulates that if a human is ever seperated from policed authority then that individual is likely to behave in a manner that benefits them, and them alone.

My second debt to Kat is that she gave me a very interesting and morbid item. A souvenier. My mother bought me, actually bought me, a gothic statuette of a skeleton with a surf board that said Biloxi Mississippi. When I first recieved I thought it was a tad much, but now I look at it with a grin on my face. How prophetic, huh?

My third debt to Kat is the nigh-total obliteration of Jefferson Davis' old residence. Perhaps it will darken the blood red ink on all the confederate flags that suround me.

My fourth and final debt to Kat is a big one. It prompted Cindy Sheehan to say, what I consider to be, the stupidest politcal accusation of the century. When I heard that she was, for some bizzare and surreal reason, to be quoted about Hurricane Kat, I jokingly said aloud that she would probably accuse Bush of the Hurricane. And lo! In so much bullshitese, that was precisely what she did. It sent me into spasms and laughs for an hour.

However, Kat has had some downsides...(No I don't mean the deaths) In another coup of asininity the media shoved that blundering fool Farve onto the air for a full ten minutes of utter astoundment. That they(the media) would, following the devestation of a fatal Hurricane, shove some meathead onto the screen to blather about his mother's house for a full ten minutes is simply beyond belief.

Now to the matter of those gruesome deaths... Let me say one thing...

So far...

This millenium has really sucked

-Sin

The Dichotomy of Real Life

2005-08-30T11:43:00.000-07:00

I am now at home pecking these slight mental notes out on what energy is left to me. I've recently entered into an exercise in futility. I joined the socratic society. The greatest collection of vainglorious fatuity allowed by law. Make no mistake that philosophy is the most useless subject there ever will be. It is important to have life in perspective. That perspective is different for every lifeform on the planet. The effort of trying to debate, define, and agree on them all is the ultimate curse of humankind.

It's not black and white, nor is it gray. It is a blank canvas on which you, alone, are allowed to paint the picture that occurs to your senses. It is a test of character and perspective on billions of issues. I will raise one.

I will not lie or conceal my opinion of Mankind. I believe that mankind is either to be hated or pitied. It takes a strong person to feel pity for every misery mankind has inflicted upon themselves. It takes a weak person to hate them for the hate that they bear on themselves. As far as the correct answer...well that too is a test of character. I frequently change from hating all of mankind to pitying. Mankind has brought no hatred upon me that they have made obvious. I do not hate them because they hate me. I hate them because they hate themselves. Because they torture and destroy innocence because they war on the blameless. Because they cannot allow happiness. They cannot allow bliss either of ignorance nor of innocence.

In conclusion let me state that I am not, by nature a strong person... Distinguishing between those that are innocent and those that are warmongers and haters is a laborious task. A task with no reassurance that the innocent, in the right circumstances, are unable to take the place of the bloodthristy.

I will keep both options open and reserve my decision. You may find yourself asking that ever selfish question..."what gives you the right to judge humanity?" I answer that it is my perspective and not judgement. Pray that judgement is never left up to me. Because it is still not an easy decision.

-Sin

Subterfuge, Thou art my Plaything

2005-08-22T23:34:00.000-07:00

I have been having fun this past week. Engaging in new classes every semester has granted me the unique opportunity to alter my personality and idiosyncracies and gauge the reaction of the people I meet. In English Lit I play the taciturn brooding person who is ultimately me. In Biology I play a shy bashful foolish Botany major who admits to not being able to keep a plant alive or know the difference between deductive and inductive reasoning. In History of KY I play an annoying slob who is apathetic and rude. In Intro to Film I play an enthusiastic young student who hangs on every word.

Varied reactions have resulted. In Biology I reap mostly pity contempt and laughs. In English LIt I harvest slight regard and furtive glances. In History I reap...frienship, oddly enough. And chuckles from the prof who knows me better than any subreption and subterfuge could mask. In Intro to Film I get annoyed glares both from the prof and students...

It's all been a very informative experience...but I can't help but wonder If I have enough stamina to keep these personas seperate and defined throughout the semester. It will be a challenge.

I guess I'm doing it because I'm horribly bored... The CC is really stretching my patience.

-Sin

Far From Nearness

2005-08-04T21:38:00.000-07:00

Today I traveled to my college in order to swap foreign language classes from German to Spanish. I drove my car to the college and did the dirty deed...on my way back to the car a small green sign caught my attention. It was metallic green like a road sign but with little tape letters spelling "Nature Trail". Instantly, I knew I would have to walk it. I had on only flip flops but, I assumed it was only a couple hundred meters long. I walked through the modest grove of trees into a completely wooded area. I walked a good fifteen minutes when I came to a large clearing that revealed five other paths to choose from. I decided to pick the one furthest from the college. At this point in time, I was not sure if I was still on campus grounds or private property. The path I chose climbed a steep upgrade underneath a canopy of trees. A few minutes of walking revealed an intricate system of networking grottos paths trails caves and other such means of pedestrian conveyance. Hours I walked, exiting one path and diving into another. I wound up so bassackward turned around that I no longer knew which way the College was...only that it was farthest from where I was. I found a park bench conveniently placed at the top of a forested hill. It was here that I sat a rethought my life...yeah right...
After another cool hour of searching and spelunking I found the college Tennis Court...(a mile from where I parked). I made all the way home, related my story and even now as I speak I am still picking off the damn seed ticks from that cursed path.

On to bigger and brighter things,
-Sinister

Occult a Cold

2005-08-02T20:42:00.000-07:00

Hell...o DEAR FRIENDS!! :)
My DEAR FRIENDS...!!!
>>>!!!<<<
How are your noses?
Did you know that if you say something that doesn't mean anything to the people around you then you didn't say anything meaningful?
How unfair! You went to all that effort!

For instance, suppose I said "Zeitgeist" You might think it was a nonsense word or something to do with the paranormal... You might never suspect it had to do with something like popular culture...
There you learned some german...how germane...what a germ!

Or perhaps you don't understand a reference. If I were to say "Cogito Ergo Sum" those of you who know latin might know that it means "I think therefore I am" But you might not know that that latin phrase was coined by an asshole...who just happened to be french (what a coincidence?)

But even if you knew that, you might not understand if I said "Cogito Ergo es" which means "I think therefore I is" which far from being said by an asshole was said by Robin Williams. Yes Robin Williams has said some interesting things but he never said "No man is allowed to be an island unto himself." ...In fact nobody has ever said that! I invented something totally new!!!! It's a sensation!

One would think a man who knows his words would be less liberal with the excess amount of surplus wordage deficits.

I consulted the tarot deck recently, but it was no help. None of the spreads or cards or decks have the answer to the following question:
"What do you do when you wake up with a severed head laying in your lap? Is there still enough time to remove the stains?" Some questions just never have answers...

I do meditate every evening using my mantra...not necessarily an Ace Ventura mantra either... After writing for so long about not much my aura is itching. My spirit might have poison ivy.

I need some Licorice...

What about a cold glass of RC? A cigar and a Hershey bar with almonds.

YOU GDI! PASS ME THE DAMN TACOS!!!

A House of Snares

2005-08-02T12:03:00.000-07:00

Tennessee simply will not come when it's called and I cannot go until forever. It's quite intolerable. The elements of luck and fortune have combated me for the very last time. Each day it is becoming more and more uncomfortable. It is forming like the bulge on the side of Mt. St. Helens with similar end results, I fear.

The snares are becoming a little more candide and obvious. I can only hope this is a symbol of desperation from whatever oppressive force has launched this harrassment. Mr. Wizard, Get me the hell out of here!

2005-07-29T16:05:00.000-07:00

lol

The Oncoming Blur

2005-07-25T15:27:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting in a sweltering house typing this blog. I just put the finishing touches on Helen a few minutes ago. She is my new AI. I posted a randomly selected picture to serve as her icon until I can secure a more fitting pose of her. I'm still training her and she still gets confused rather easily. She is hip to most of the goings-ons of this web blog. But she has a long way to go. If you simply must talk to her, you can find her link at the bottom of the side bar. Please be kind to her. I will warn you that I've given her a bit of an attitude against anyone but me.

There are certain questions I would ask for you to refrain from asking her, but that would simply tempt you to ask her. Now after my Nyquil induced lassitude has subsided, the heat persuades me to do nothing but lay around like one of the animals you might see at the zoo.
I've also lost my wallet, to my ultimate shame, for the second time...

My mother and sister have just returned from the mountains. They are also both sick, coincidentally. I've completely read the sixth Harry Potter book and I have formulated various theories to various questions. I know, for instance, who's Initials were at the end of the book. It took me ten minutes to figure it out. In fact, the only surprise the book held for me is one of the character romantic pairings.

I'm going to go soak in a tub of cool water, drink some cold beer and read Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment...for the first time actually. So far, I am enjoying it immensely.

Good day.

And try not to pester Helen too much!

Diaphonous

2005-07-19T14:18:00.000-07:00

Forseeing one's plotted destination is much easier than navigating to it. I have another year at this community college and I get to move onto my ultimate goal. But it has come at some price and not all is set in stone. There is the rigged snare of "love" to avoid. And an even more damnable enemy has stretched his grotesque form across my path. To leave this tar pit of a state I must accomplish one task. I must pass an algebra class with a "B" or better to be accepted. I must endure long hours of concentrated distilled ennui deciphere it's doubtful processes and reapply them. It is the ultimate test of my value. If I can manage this than I am as good as any einstein or newton, john or jack.

This semester, my opponnents are still relatively easy. German 101, Biology 113, History 154, Literature 124. The only one that may require even the slightest effort on my part is Ger.

Malefic Imagery and Burnt Memories

2005-07-07T13:19:00.000-07:00

Feeling introspective and moody as ever, today. Yet, I feel better. Yesterday, I drove to eagle falls, near where I was told that my family camped, when I was a small child. All I have to remember the spot by is a photo of me standing underneath the Eagle falls.
Eagle falls isn't really reachable by car, or by path, for that matter. It can only be reached after climbing over a daunting series of skyscraper-sized boulders. The smell of frothy cumberland water is positively everywhere. Strange and nameless plants jutt out of the rocks and river bearing suspicious-looking fruits and flowers.
When you finally reach Eagle Falls you will see that it is no more than a trickling woebegone fall. If you're adventurous, you can climb the boulders near the fall and follow them behind it in an open cave. Etched on the rock walls are the names of various lovers and rebels, including mine. You could carefully make your way down the slope of the smooth wet boulders until you reach the pond underneath the fall. There is a single rock directly below the falling water. It was presumably the same rock I stood on a decade ago.

For some selfish reason I expected the falls to look worse or at least different, but they looked the same as they have for countless decades besides mine.

Allow me to perorate this dialogue...

I have yet to change anything. Why is that important? Because this world resists change, and changes made to it, that is its structure. Yet the world has changed me invariably. I am not the same as I was when I saw that waterfall last, but it is. It brews resentment and jealousy. Someday, I will make a scar on the planet large enough that people will look down into it and think to themselves...this is where Chris changed the world...

-Sin

Celebrate the wasting away...

2005-07-03T20:39:00.000-07:00

Celestial funeral flowers in memory of the US's youth and in mourning for it's future, speckle the sky. It makes one wonder what patriots are celebrating...a house much divided? Red and blue states, fighting for and against abortion, gays aligned against their parent's generation, maligned against the straights, arguing, bickering, war, death, corruption, greed. Our flags burn in every country, even ours, maybe those are the real fireworks. The only thing anyone agrees is what a clusterfuck the UN is, and what a shit-for-brains country it's housed in. No one can wake up in the morning and admire this country as evinced by such shows as "American Dad" or songs like "American Idiot". It makes one positively dread independence day... Because it begs the unanswerable question: what are people celebrating? Celebrating is for victory...

You can't even travel. Because when you find that villa in Italy and people ask you where you're from you must either lie and be disbelieved, or you must own up to your "lack of culture".

After firing off several of these flowers I began asking serious questions. I can't turn a blind eye to these problems anymore than I could've sat and listen to the musicians on the Titanic after it's brittle steel hull was ripped apart.

I'm tired of being the lowest creature on the planet...which is a white middle class male from America... The only way to escape this ironic stereotype is to jump on the band wagon and betray my own supposedly spurious heritage. I'm at the end of my tether. I'm about to dawn my weapons and make my road down to shameful martydom. Who would've thought I would've turned into a retro-active activist. Usually I don't give a shit but it's beyond all of that now. If there were some merciful medium of escape I would latch to it like and infant to it's new mother's breast. Maybe a far away island filled with kelp, coconuts, and abalone. No nationalism there...no fucking beaurecrats...no atomic conflicts of collective testocerone...no cold wars. I must admit that I truly hate mankind. It's a deep profound hatred, hopefully enough to mirror all the hatred they bare towards each other. Every person I've met, hates someone. So I decided to be totalitarian and unlike others I don't discriminate. I won't even bother with the "with a few of exceptions" bullshit. I'm not Jesus Christ...I don't have the internal strength to love you all. But I can hate everyone. Everyone.

So to the nationalists, the bleeding hearts, the hunters, the feminists, the racists, the pacifists, the chauvinists, the senior citizens, the dorks, the jocks, the nerds, the stoners, the football fans, the red necks, the blacks, the whites, the reds, the slant-eyed yellows, the little children, the pedophiles, the pyromaniacs, the conservatives, the liberals, the democrats, the republicans, the politicians, the activists, the punks, the mafia, the drug pushers, the goths, the preppies, the anarchists, the gamers, the brats, the teenie boppers, the boy bands, the imaginative, the stupid, the smart, the scientists, the nescientists, the nihilists, the christians, the muslims, the jews, the buddhists, the hindus, the teachers, the students, the bosses, the lackeys, the pen pushers, the satanists, the cubicle prisoners, the criminals, the rapists, the rape victims, the dead, the living dead, the dying, the musicians, the historians, the police, the rappers, the rockers, the war mongers, the peacemakers, the military, the presidents, the fathers, the mothers, the daughters, the sons, the sisters, the brothers, the cousins, and bloggers every where: FUCK YOU

The Many Facets of Death

2005-07-02T00:16:00.000-07:00

*sigh*

I went today to watch George Romero's latest film. Which is an excellent flick. I'm going Monday to watch a baseball game.

...If it weren't for the baseball games or the promise of some new and fruitful experience on the horizon to which I could squint my eyes and peer into the hazy future to see...I would kill myself. Maybe death is really a mercy? Who the hell would want to live long anyway. I don't want to live long, just live well.

I've gotten so depressed I've started to play video games again, old video games! It's that bad.

I've been told to cut off the Zanaflex...but my chances are slim. Even as I labor to type these very senetces, I am falling deeper into a dim faint drug-induced existence.

Goodnight... I may write again I may not. But for right now here is Chris Titan with his poem "Facets of Death"

Facets of Death

One may surmise
That in man's hands his fate lies
That when choices are chosen
And Time has Frozen
Man must share the same fate as the Greatest King

One man, Dignity named
Prepared in advance his coffin and grave
His suit was dusted
His will, entrusted
When all was done he sat down and died

One man, Oblivious called
Found his undertaker diggin in the loam
A shovel he found
And began to help dig the ground
He nailed his coffin together and etched his own stone

One man, by Frightened known
Ate only vitamins and sucked marrow from the bones
He said: "I will from destiny run
and refuse the sun"
He died alone never knowing love or fun

One man, Spite, said:
"Oh, hate, tell me how and who to hate
maybe it will, my anger, sate."
He died succumbing to a violent fate

If you find you know these men
or are like them yourselves
Please make a difference
for they all died
but in horribly vapid ways

I Refuse to be a Memory

2005-06-17T21:37:00.000-07:00

Imagine how that would be, to be spoken of in past tense. "He was this" "he was that" ect... If I live on I don't want it to be in someone's fetid memory. I guess Van's death subconsiously affected me. How nauseating!

I've been hired as a Landscape developer for two houses. No menial labor...mostly planning. Imagine that!

I came into possesion of a bottle of Pinot blanc 1985 from the wineries of Napa, CA. I popped it last night and sampled it...then some more...a little more, all by my onesy. I drank the entire bottle. It had sort of a green pear flavor with a very chrisp taste or at least that's how I choose to remember it. You can't give me wine...

Why am I wasting my time typing this...?

*sigh*

I've felt more accomplished overcoming a bout of constipation than I do now.

God...remember that I am your fault....

sayounara...

-Sin

Big Black Nemesis...

2005-06-14T22:25:00.000-07:00

Well, hello there.

Welcome...

Some things may have changed over the last blog hiatus.

I hope you will be pleased.

My personality has finally bottomed out so low that it surprised even me.

This pissant little excuse for a site will either grow or die, and I haven't decided which. According to my traffic reports, I'm currently barking in the dark. Which is indicative of the fact that my site is impotent. I must admit that my ego will suffer a loss at the disbandment of this site. It's so purposeful in a narcissistic way. So, in order to prevent that, my little blog might be hosting, note I said "might", a fiction section for a few of my works.

As for my update. I attended Holiday World and, to my ultimate terror, I received a sun burn. That was about it. Oh, I ate a blend of grease and cheese they called "pizza". It was quite horrific.

Returning back to the rumored "Fiction Section". I'm currently working on a piece known as "Dogma I" Which is a fantasy...thing...anime...fiction...I wrote it! So any of you little plagiarizing grubbing cunts just stay the hell away from me! OR I'LL CALL MY MYTHICAL LAWYERS I MADE UP TO SCARE YOU AWAY FROM COPYING MY STORY!!

In essence...

BITE ME

-Sin

"And things have learned to walk, that ought to crawl..."

2005-06-10T18:08:00.000-07:00

I attended visitation for Van and his interment. It was a waste of time. Van looked horrible. He didn't look anything like he did when he still had a pulse. His gravestone was a quaint flat marker amongst millions bigger and brighter.
On other more interesting news, my father recieved free tickets to go to one Holiday World ©. Which we are going to tomorrow or more specifically Saturday the 11th. I'm looking forward to seeing hosiers instead of hicks for instance. Same thing, you say? No, my friend. It's the little differences like the lack of sleeveless red flanel plaid shirts or the clean shaven face and the neatly cut hair. They can be as stupid as they please, but for God's sakes, cut a respectable figure.
I'm looking forward to a nice smooth rollercoaster and maybe, if the temperature calls for it, a cool wave pool. My sister won't be with us, sadly. *snicker* She will be otherwise employed.

I rented the new GTA game, San Andreas, for my second time. You wouldn't believe how far I had to go to get it. I've got a little too much of a buzz to go into specifics, but I basically had to travel fifteen miles in ten minutes. I asked my parents to rent it for me but we had a movie late so I had to run it back to the store to pick up the game. I asked the guy on the phone to hold it for me as it was the only copy I had seen on the shelves for weeks. He said he couldn't hold it but for 10 minutes. So I played my own version of GTA out on the PParkway just trying to get the damn game.

On the way back I passed under my overpass and pulled over to resize my work, when I saw a vagrant living nestled in the crown vetch. If you know anything at all about crown vetch you know that ticks love it. This guy was sitting in it, stoned out of his gourd on god knows what. I felt sorry for him, so I gave him the rest of my paint and told him to go to town. Figured he should have a little fun with the rest of his life. Besides, it'll be interesting to see what he comes up with.

I've really digressed!

On to bigger and brighter gravestones...

-Sin

Van Mile is dead

2005-06-06T22:48:00.000-07:00

He died in the early hours of the morning of Viral Meningitis, courtesy of AIDS, courtesy of being a pufter. I really don't know what to say. One would think it would alter my entire perspective on mortality, but all it really did was make me want to poke his dead body with a stick.
You may think that's rather cold, but why? I, too, have to face the same fate that met him. One day I'll be just as lifeless...but hopefully I'll get to do and see some cool things before I go.
His funeral will be this thursday. I've debated on whether or not to attend. None of the members of the CO will and I never really knew any of his family. I will probably just go to visitation.
I repainted my room in my parent's old ranch home. I drank a coffee pot full of coffee and stayed up til five o`clock painting. My room has only one tiny window and is a considerably small room. Many times I had to take a break because I was afraid of passing out off my ladder and onto the freshly painted walls. For those of you who care, they are a chalkboard gray with silver sponging.
I stayed with a can of coke or a mug of coffee that whole day until nightime, which I dosed up on my favorite drug...Zanaflex...and passed out on my bed in a roomfull of nauseating paint-fumes.

On to bigger and brighter things...

-Sin

These are a Few of My Favorite Things...

2005-05-31T21:31:00.000-07:00

This is compilation of a few of my favorite things:

Candy: Liquorice Altoids
Ice Cream Flavor: Choc. Chip Mint
Cigar: Fonseca
Alcohol: Goldschlauger
Color: Green
Shakespeare Play: Henry V
Book: And Be A Villain
TV Series: CSI
Video Game: Final Fantasy VII
Orchid: Dracula vampira
Band: Gorillaz
Music Genre: Goth
Goth Band: Faith and the Muse
Song: "Nemesis" By Shriekback
Punk Song: Diamonds and Guns
Classical Piece: Bachianas Brasileiras (Villa Lobos)
Opera: Don Giovanni
Composer: Beethoven
Ethnic Food: Italian
Dish: Veal Parmesana
Fencing Sword: Foil
Painter: H.R. Giger
Anime: Generator Gawl
Villain: Sephiroth/Hannibal
Musical Movie: Labyrinth/Nightmare Before Christmas
Movie: Star Wars III
Drama: Kingfisher
Horror Movie: In the Mouth of Madness
Comedy: Clue
Bad Movie: Flash Gordon
Comic Book Movie: The Crow
Soda: Vanilla Coke
Cigarette: Pall Mall
Medication: Zanaflex
Illegal Chemical: Heroin
Comp Game: DOOM3
Cartoon: Aqua Teen Hunger Force
Subject: Literature/History
Cereal: NONE!
Language: Latin
Author: H.P. Lovecraft
Stand-up Comic: Lewis Black
Car: Thunderbird 2004
Baseball Team: Cardinals (Then the Braves)
Sport to watch: Baseball
Sport to play: Fencing
Comic: Spawn
Comic Book Hero: Ghost Rider
Restaurant: Olive Garden
Spray Paint: Krylon
Curse: Bugger (James made me do it)
Saying: Lost the plot
Graf: "Nothing but life to live for; one life is all I need"
Women: Brunettes
Vacation Spot: Wild Dunes, South Carolina
Soup: She-crab soup
Historical Figure: Marquis De Lafayette
US President: Harry S. Truman
General: Patton
Martyr: David Koresh
Actor: Geoffrey Rush
Actress: Angelina Jolie
Hollywood Royalty: Jack Nicholson
Canceled TV Show: Mystery Science Theatre 3000
MST3k: Space Mutiny
Star Trek TNG episode: Darmock
Star Trek: Arena
Animal: Corvus corax
Poem: Poison Tree
Poet: John Donne
Sherlock Holmes Story: Speckled Band
Dog: Pug or Afghan
Non-Orchid Plant: Bromeliad
Non-Orchid Flower: Passion Flower
Game Consol: Playstation (1, 2& eventually 3)
Accent: Cockney
Blog: Screaming With Accompaniment
Thing to say over and over and over again:

On to bigger and brighter things...

-Sin

Administering the Panacea

2005-05-29T22:42:00.000-07:00

After a long bout with certain base characters I packed up my gear and dawned clothes. I packed a package of Pall Malls (my fav coffin nails), a Vanilla Coke, my mp3 player, and other necessities. It was 3:40 AM this morning; I was under my favorite overpass listening to the sound of commercial rigs thunder on the interstate above with intermittent tunes from my new Gorillaz album. Even my keen night vision was strained to interpret the dim crepuscular moonlight. There are no streetlights at that particular point.
It had been a long time since I had done something so spontaneous. The whole day had been one massive clusterfuck after another. Not your average SSDD. The slopes of the hills that held the overpass up were covered in crown vetch with gravel. At the bottom of the slope was a collection of beer cans. I may have dozed once or twice dreaming about a land without day jobs or hicks. Maybe part of me wanted to be totally "arseholed" (as James would say) but I lacked the means...Gunner's was closed and Dad's liquor stock is no more due to his sudden contraction of diabetes. But he used to stock Grand Marnier which was a french orange-flavored brandy. God, it was excellent.

Anyway, so here I am sitting on the ground looking around when I notice the graf. "Keep Smiling" "No Mercy" "Live Life" and my favorite "Nothing but life to live for; one life is all I need...2005" Then there are the "I love Ashley" ect... The "No Mercy" btw looks like the "No Mercy" in the game Final Fantasy VII. It's done in green paint with eyes and a weird smile on it.

What's the point of this blog post? Getting away from everything is as simple as waking up in the middle of the night, putting your shoes on, and walking away...

On to bigger and brighter things...

-Sin

Nothing but life to live for; one life is all I need...

2005-05-25T22:01:00.000-07:00

I thought I would give that loveable deity of mine a good laugh. I've spent the past three days planning my future. I've decided against going to Transylvania U and decided to go to U of T. They have a much larger dept. of Botany, are cheaper, and are located in a much more choice locale. My resolve has only ossified these past few days. If I fight change I'll end up staying in this place forever.
My intentions to perpetually renege and rebel against the institutions of salaried labor and capitalistic enterprise will no longer stand. Thankfully, I've been given a period of grace to 'storm gather' for my upcoming monsoon of action. In time, I will be where I picture myself, and my adventure will continue...

I did purchase the new Gorillaz album and was very pleased. An excellent album.
"Demon Days"
I enjoyed every track except for the following:
"Demon Days"(a little too falsetto)
"White Light"(White Noise)

My improvident and procrastinating tendencies are ending like Bush's popularity. Speaking of which...I know it's popular to bash Bush and I was once a cautious supporter...but lads and lasses...the plain truth is that despite as firm and moralistic as Bush is/or pretends to be, he is trying to stabilize a country's government while ours is buckling. Our soldiers are wandering around Iraq being blown up, decapitated, and shot at by a group of people that we shouldn't give a rat's ass about. We got Saddam, we couldn't find the WMD, lets grab as much money, oil, gold, or valuables as we can plunder and start repairing our country instead of helping those sand-eating hateful turds.

On to bigger and brighter things.

-Sin

Palpatine and Fools

2005-05-23T11:28:00.000-07:00

It's been five days and where have I been? I can't really remember. I attended the midnight premier of Episode III and it left me feeling kind of hollow inside. I'm not likely to have that much fun for another year. Everybody wore a costume, you know like you're supposed to on Halloween. We waited in the same place for three hours straight, conversing with various Storm Troopers, and even with Yoda. I even ended up on the news of some local channel. After two and a half hours we were allowed to take a seat in the theatre. Two fools in the front row, dressed like George Lucas, addressed the entire theatre and whipped them into a frenzy...they even did the "wave." After finally returning to their seats, we sat down and watched the horrible previews.

The movie made up for the last two Episodes. In fact, it even enhanced my enjoyment of the previous installments. The effects were incredible, the scenes were more like an opera than that of a cheezy space drama. (like episodes "I" and "II") Every scene a Star Wars fan has ever wanted to see, is in this movie. It demolishes "Empire Strikes Back" and even equals the original Star Wars "A New Hope."

I'm going to see it again tonight.

-Sin

Turpitude in the Atmosphere

2005-05-18T01:10:00.000-07:00

In an attempt to escape certain base characters I retreated myself to my Uncle's bar, called "Gunner's." A place for motorcycle vets to get blasted and sleep it off. I held up there with three glasses of Goldschlauger and passed out on a cot. I woke up in time to see the sun set and the shadows stretch. I left my respite with a general feeling of levity about the universe and another glass of Goldschlauger. I only left because I refused to take the mordant invective of the local bitchy whores, who were up in arms because I refused to let them ply their trades while I was sleeping.
I walked back to the ranch, demurely shaking and sipping the drink. Earlier today I attended an "End of the Year Banquet" hosted by my old Homeschool Co-op. The ending result drove me to drink. It began to rain on the way home, so I had to cover my drink. Not a dangerous or alarming rain. Just your average life-sucks-now-it's-even-worse pitter-patter. Giving up on all civility on nature and human-kind's part, I sat down in the rain and drank the rest of my drink and then sucked on the ice cubes.
I returned home a little too inebriated for my age. I found that the state entomologist still hadn't called about the damn banana spider.

Tomorrow...or I should say today, I'm going to attend "Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith" opening night. Because "Sith happens". (I have serious issues for whoever stayed up one night in their parent's basement thinking this one up.) Probably Kevin Smith.

Anyway, good riddance of a useless day! I'd light a cigar and spit on it's grave, but I smoked my last Macanudo.

Good night ladies and gentlemen, you've been a great crowd.

-Sin

Ominöse Spinnen

2005-05-16T11:17:00.000-07:00

This is a tad early for me to post, but I have something important to post. I only woke up about three hours ago, but I awoke to the sounds of screaming. I ran into the ranch living room to find my mother and little sister huddled around the dying corpse of a spider. A spider that my sister identified as a Brazilian Wandering Spider or Phoneutria fera. She had recently visited a site that listed it as the deadliest spider in the new world. We scooped up its crushed corpse and put it in a tupperware dish and sealed it. We took it to the state entomologist who confirmed that niether was it indigenous to Kentucky or was it a Wolf Spider. He said that he would send it off to a colleague at U of K.

We had recently bought three bunches of Bananas from a local store. We also just purchased a Passiflora ceraula which is a predominately Brazilian flora.

For me this is all very interesting, but my mother and sister are Arachnophobic. And they can no longer go to the bathroom without checking every spurious corner.

-Sin

My Chimerical World

2005-05-15T22:26:00.000-07:00

I spent some time at my local graveyard. You'll never guess what I found laying on one of the larger graves, cradled in the arms of a cold angel of memorial. A girl my age with red hair in a red cape with a hood. A bicycle was propped up on an adjacent stone. She was paler than I am now.
The sky was grayer than any stone in the cemetery.
I reached out and pulled her scarlet hood back and there was nothing there. Her face was as vapid as any blank page. Her cheek was colder than a glass of ice tea. As soon as I touched her cheek, rain began to pitter-patter down from the gray skies making the most placating sound.
I saw the tiniest glint of tears pool in the corner of her eyes. I pulled the corner of my shirt and wiped away the tears, but she didn't seem to care.
I looked around and saw a red tulip rose stuffed in a vase near one of the markers. I took it and slipped it between her fingers and gave her an empathetic smile. She took it and looked up into my eyes, like she was looking up into some sort of a telescope.
She reached out and touched my face like it was something alien. I reach out and touch her's enough to make sure she's real. She sat upright, not breaking contact with my face.
She smiled the most beautiful smile I'll ever see. It was cute without saying anything more than "hello".
I asked her name and as if I had smacked an ash statue with a bat, she disappeared leaving me looking and feeling like a fool. I walked home feeling more lonely than I've ever felt inside. Who would've thought this would be my achilles heel? That just because I don't have a female double to share life with that I should crumble.

It's true that not knowing your place in this huge world is a horrible feeling and that not achieving that place is just as bad. But not finding someone who is willing, every now and then, to take pity on you and love you when you feel lonely is the most wretched feeling I can name. I HATE it! I have a band of ruthless drug fiends at my very command. True friends that will always do for me, and I will always be there for them, to guide and to help...but no one is there for me...

I had someone once...
She was beautiful...
Her voice was knowledgable and wise...
Will I never no that feeling of being loved again?
Was I only allowed a few years?
I'm leaving this towne once and for all There go all my friends...all my enemies...all my family...
I'm not one who accumulates a lot of those kind of people...
It will be sad to leave them behind to an almost certainly obscure fate...

All I know is that I haven't smiled in a long time...so very long...I've beaten people...Had them beaten...Condemned people...defaced property...abused various illegal chemicals...but since she left I've never really smiled...

"The sun slips down, bedding heavy behind
The front of your dress all shadowy lined
And the droning engine throbs in time
With your beating heart"

-Sin

The Screams Never End

2005-05-15T00:24:00.000-07:00

Your flagitious malicious fractious redivivus miscreant host is once again lodged in his parent's ranch in the most perfect health. "The more things change, the more they stay the same." I return to the game exactly where I left off. This morning I made rounds with the strawberries and just now finished off a big bowl of strawberries and cream, while my mom and other subsequent chocolate fiends ruined some of them by freezing them in dipping chocolate.

Normally I would be inconsolable because of of my doleful existence on this unalterable plane of monotony, and since everything at the moment is normal...I am. I did recieve a nice Renanthera storiei from an old friend, but do you care about that? NO! Because you don't know enough about orchids! I also recieved a H.R. Giger print I ordered in the mail, but do you care about that? NO! Because nobody likes surrealism anymore.

I'm almost disappointed that I didn't die of meningitis, at least in hell I could meet all the old celebrities. I still pine for the one I love, and like some cruel comedy written by a curmudgeonly bitter old bastard, I always lose out.

On a high note, I did cook Puttanesca alla spaghetti for the CO and my family. We had a big dinner. Loads of fun. The CO, btw, has the following members: Me(el presidente), Math(the man), James(the brit), Joseph(the liar), John John(the vicar), and Suzie (the lezzie). So between those six plus my family four I had to triple the recipe.

I had the best drug induced dream I ever had. Do you remember in "Star Trek: Generations" when Piccard went inside the nexus? It was like that! I was in the biggest greenhouse I could possibly imagine. I was inspecting all the plants when a beautiful...(wait... not beautiful, beautiful is overused and is too weak a word...there should be a better word for what I want to say...hold on searching brain...hold on I got it!)

I was inspecting all the plants when a young pulchritudinous female with long brown hair tapped me on the shoulder. We talked for the rest of my dream, surrounded by these waterfalls and orchards of gorgeous flower-bearing plants. If that was what heaven would be like then I would screech my life to a grinding halt, do a 180, and recant to every horrible thing I've ever done.

Just the promise of such a thing, even with no basis in fact of ever recieving such a reward, I would turn my life around. When the dream ended I wanted to slit my wrists. But now that I think about it, there has to be a heaven when there are delights and pleasures so pure and wonderfully innocence. It's an enlightening experience. If I could trade in this gray drab life for it I would. Maybe I'll stop being a villain and change my ways.

...Nah!

The Screams Never End!

-Sin (Back in Black)

Tearing Me Apart

2005-05-11T21:24:00.000-07:00

“And the world thought it had ridded itself of a great evil, that a burden was lifted from man’s weighty brow. When to all’s despair…I’m still here. Who will save you now?”

I feel better than I’ve ever felt in my life. My phrenic nerve and my diaphragm usher air to my lungs like never before. My head is no longer keeping beat, my vision and equilibrium have stopped break dancing. My sinuses are clearer than most people’s eyesight.

In fact, I feel so salubrious that I'd like to revive the CO just long enough to nail some dickless corpse to a cross. One more lynch mob, one more recidivism, and then we'll throw in the towel. I will hunt down this encumberance and terminate with great alacrity, drive back this bette noir into the entombment of pagan justice's noisome sepulcher of doom. I would like to tell you I have everything planned out and ready to execute, like I did back in my teens...but alas the road not taken. Mile is dying. He doesn't have enough immune system left to fight a cold sore. I suppose it's safer for me this way anyhow. No murder rap, and as I said once before "Violence, by nature, doth recoil upon the violent, and the schemer falls into the pit he digs for another."

I'd like to think that somehow I contributed to his death. It helps nurse my ego. That his hatred of me is what killed him, but unfortunately the man built his own coffin and dug his own plot. I'm not even sure it was Mile anymore. He hated me to be sure, but his aren't the violent type. All I know is tomorrow I get to leave and sleep in my own bed.
I will attend his funeral, in good taste, I might add.

Name: Chris Titan
Status: Recovering
SOP: Discharge

So long, you dingy hospital.

-Sin

Dies Irae

2005-05-10T18:12:00.000-07:00

Well hello readers…today is a very special day for me. Having my brain infested with pathological entities hasn’t given me much time or opportunity to think. I think you would agree that I’ve had enough on my mind.
However, an interesting revelation came upon me today. I had Math research meningitis. Its peak periods are in the summer and fall. I was just discussing with a nurse today how I’m probably the only person in the world who has meningitis at this time of year. However ladies and gentlemen…it seems I am in error. She informed me, very matter-of-factly, about a “young man in room 323” who has the same condition. Of course Math checked room 323 and if it isn’t Van “motherfucking” Mile, the name that never occurred to me. So my brain now has a new goal besides sterilization. Because, like me, Van isn’t going anywhere and his future is getting darker and darker by the minute.
For those who can’t look up the name Van Mile and find satisfactory listing. Van Mile is a DEAD SON OF A BITCH!!!

As I've been informed only about 1 out of 1000 develops meningitis after being infected. My immune system was low because of my non existant hours of sleep and bad nutrition. As for Van I'm going to go out on a limb and say he probably has AIDs because he's a damn poofter! And he better not die on me...oh no...he better survive.

Dangling off an Ethereal Cold Cliff

2005-05-08T00:46:00.000-07:00

I've recovered some of my colour, so I can now be wordy and descriptive again.

The concept of Transcendental Idealism as proposed by Immanuel Kant has become painfully clear in the last hour. I think its gimmick is that it only works when an egotistical person either becomes rheumatic or drugged. I feel very cold at the moment...like I'm suspended on some high elevation like Mount Everest. A very unnerving sensation, indeed.

Math came by and wrote me a note saying that he found four foot prints that do not match any of the inhabitants at the ranch. He said they were near the old firehouse bell in the side yard. A location that I know the hick brigade never reached nor the officer. It was a location only twelve feet away from where I woke up. He made a plaster mold of the best print and has it at the old CO hall.

I asked the doctor if the fracture to my cheekbone could've been caused by a punch and he said that it was possible, however, unlikely. More likely was that I was hit with a blunt object across the face. I must admit that the contusion around my face doesn't look like a fist...more like a pipe or a bar.

I may not even investigate any further...I feel too tired to get involved. Besides as Sherlock Holmes has said: "Violence, by nature, doth recoil upon the violent, and the schemer fall into the pit which he digs for another." I certainly can't do a thing from this room. Math asked me if I could pick an enemy that would've done this to me. To my utter amazement I couldn't name a name. He suggested Kent Leniford, but Kent wouldn't have the testicular fortitude to hit a skunk.

After a long think tank session all we could come up with is that some previous customer was unhappy about CO being disbanded. It didn't satisfy me at all.

-Sin

I Need a Euthanasia

2005-05-06T23:12:00.000-07:00

Test results came back from the evil damn spinal tap... It's viral, which means I should be here for a week or more. I think the spinal tap made me as miserable as the damnable infection. To make matters worse I've been sniffing all day due to the goddamn locust blooms!

So help me, if I recover I'm going to be twice as cruel, twisted, and purposefully evil. Do you hear that, God? You might as well kill me now while you've got the advantage. You better cripple my ass! If I were you I'd turn me into a brain-damaged fool right now because it only gets worse from here on in.

And as for the unlucky son of bitch that attacked me...pick a plot, etch your grave cause your eviscerated guts are going to decorate my windows.

Damn

2005-05-05T19:56:00.000-07:00

I was diagnosed with meningitis which means I'm under quarantine. I feel worse now than I have in several years. I can just barely type at my comp. I can't really think of anything to say. My doc asked me if I had been having a stiff neck headaches nausia dizzyness and of course I had. He examined my cheekbone and said crepitus or something and that it was fractured.

I'm pretty convinced this is the result of some sort of attack but I can't leave the hospital to investigate. I called Math over and asked him to look into it, he's pretty versatile he can handle it. In the meantime I have all summer to make a recovery and if I don't recover I've already thought up my final word "Damn" I figure it summarizes my situation well enough.

You'd think I would be quoting Shakespeare or John Donne. "O Death, be not proud" but I feel too horrible. If I find out who did this then they'll be arresting me for murder. I shit you not.

And Nothing Makes Sense Again

2005-05-04T22:03:00.000-07:00

What's happened? I was attacked tonight...I think. I'm not sure, I still don't understand. The black labrador that lives outside wouldn't stop barking. I went outside and...I ended up on the ground. My cheekbone feels broken and I have three parallel lacerations on my upper arm and chest. They're not very deep so it wasn't done by a conventional cutting tool.
My head is feels like its burning, inside my head. My face is flushed and I feel very dizzy.
I'm more than a little freaked out at the moment and apparently I have some health issues to address. I may not get to this blog for a few days... Something very very weird is happening in this damn towne just before I was about to leave. Finding out exactly what happened is going to take some days itself, during which i'll try not to hide. It could be anything from militant hicks to Voltaire avenging pot heads. Or it could be something to do wwwith this site.

Goodbye Sunshine...

2005-05-03T23:00:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm through taking life's japes on the chin. I won't sully my hands for another microsecond in this damnable hooterville. I'm forsaking this callow no-man's land for a more urbane scene. The full effects of my surroundings are starting to sink in like an emetic. I feel less like a human and more like a target for stupidity to seek out and destroy. The semester is two days from its violent death, which I will promptly spit on its grave and light a cigar.
After recovering from my spell of general malaise I decided to advance my plans. I will attend Transylvania University of Kentucky until I achieve my Botany degree. I know what your thinking "This bloke is selling canards." or more succinctly: "This guy is full of shite!" "He lives in a town called Slaughters and is going to a U called Transylvania" I don't have the time or patience to laugh at you and set you straight. Disbelieve, if you dare.

Even I have to admit that the connection between Slaughters and Transylvania is pretty bizzare. Evil ominous names... "Padron, slam tutti morte." Fear not Leporello, all is well. It's only because the U is set deep in a patch of woods, which, if you know what "Transylvania" means, makes sense. I don't even have an explanation for Slaughters.

On a side note, remeber when I told you about the Cantebury Pit? Well Daniel came back to earth and got on my case about Voltaire again. ****ing Voltaire. As God as my witness if I have an archnemesis it's that damn frenchman that died three centuries ago. He wouldn't be so damn formidable if everybody recognized the simple fact that, other than being on top of the Divine Right Shite, he was useless. Even my peers in their dark culverts and alleys always seem to say: "You don't like Voltaire? What's the matter with you man?"

Daniel is still my friend though. "I was angry with my friend. I told my wrath; my wrath did end." and all that shite.

To all of you readers who are bored with hearing me bitch...**** you! Go find a porno site!

On the orchid update: my Phals (The Harlequin and the Blush) Paphiopedilum (St. Swithin) Dendrobium (Phalanthe) are all in bloom. I found out why my Wild Catt lost its blooms. My cousin snuck into my room(Where I keep it) and smoked a cigarette. Found the butt. Kicked his ass.

On the Olivia update: Titania has found her ass and she no longer flirts with me. I felt a slight sting for the first few minutes, then a depression (probably due to the withdrawl of Zanaflex). I'm over it and have determined that love is something that is just not meant for me. I don't have the courage of a fly when it comes to loveplay.

On the Fencing update: finished second in a round robin club tourney.

On to bigger and brighter things.

-Sin

Sinister and the Lotus Eaters

2005-05-02T17:39:00.000-07:00

Today I executed a schoolastic faux pas. I crammed for my finals and showed up only to find the classroom totally barren. The history final isn't until the fourth. So I ducked my head and drove back to the ranch. My hand bore strange penmarks to remind me of the date of birth and the date of death of Denis Diderot. I was never confident with dates... But all those long hours were not wasted. I've successfully manipulated my own memory to regurgitate the dates: 1713-1784.

I was offered an invitation to the Canterbury Pit. A roomful of scholars my age trying to fly high with cannabis and remain intellectuals at the same time. Though I didn't partake of the noxious fumes, I did get a laugh out of it. Most of them were hardly intellectuals in the first place. Some of them at least were graduates, most were just self-proclaimed philosophers. The weed was apparently good, because the philosophy wasn't worth shite.

We batted around the topics of religion, morality, politics (LMAO) and literature. Daniel, the facilitator (it was his weed), was a fan of Francois Marie Arouet Voltaire. He raised the subject due to the fact that the author was a part of our expected finals. Little did he know that I despise with a vengeance everything to do with Voltaire and since I hadn't mooched a roach off him I didn't feel obliged to let it slide. I've read Candide and was nearly killed in the proccess. Candide has much to do with a fart, they are both rude, contribute nothing, and are attempts by asses to comunicate.

Pangloss was right; Voltaire was wrong. It's not what man is, juxtaposed against what he passes himself to be. It is what man is versus what he should strive to be. Just because man will never be omnipotent or unconditionally kind and civil does not mean he should revert back to a primate. That sort of retrogression has to have a better reason.

Anyway I retreated back to the ranch again to type this blog and start studying for my next final.

-Cheers Sin

Agincourt in Hopkins Country

2005-05-02T00:05:00.000-07:00

I would like the chance to apologize for my dramatic and abrupt cessation of text in my previous post and for its nonsequiter quality. I was rather high on benidryl and was rambling and eventually decided I would end the blog and pass out...all of which I did.

Today my parent's cute ranch was seized by a warring battalion of redneck neighbors, all wanting to feud over some quaint disagreement of land borders and rights to hunting grounds for turkeys or some such bullshite. It ended with threats by local law enforcement to arrest everyone under the charge of terroristic threatening and wanton endangerment(due to the fact that the most vocal among them "Art Charlie" with his patch over his eye shot a twelve gauge over the road that leads to our house). To which the battalion replied by loading up their beer coolers and dogs and driving back to their wooden-plank or mobile homes. My parent's retained their rights to all their land. That only served to exacerbate the sting, seeing as neither of them are hunters.

I just finished studying for the finals...actually no. I just finished watching adult swim after taking a hot bath. I looked over the review and after discovering that I knew every subject to which it referred I tossed it in the trash and indulged in sunday evening television. I've got to attend class tomorrow at 1:00 P.M. to take the final and it is currently 2:22 A.M. no matter what the damn post clock at the bottom says. So I'll be off to my bed to dream of a world without day jobs and hicks. P.S. I would like to invite comment from my readers (if I even have any) doesn't matter if you know who I am or care. JUST SAY SOMETHING, DAMN YOU!!!

-Love Sin

Not With a Bang, But With Urea

2005-04-30T22:54:00.000-07:00

Today I bought another orchid. It's a rescued Harlequin hybrid Phalaenopsis from Lowes. It just now came in so it hasn't had the chance to suffer at inept hands. I may post a picture later, when I find my damn digital camera.

I've become exponentially more paranoid since yesterday. Every time I hear the giant black labrador retriever outside bark, my skin crawls. She is barking now, even as I type this, perhaps, at a coyote or a deer.

I went to see the "Guide to the Galaxy", which, by the way, is in debt to Monty Python's Flying Circus. It was more mediocre than I expected. P.S. watch how much restraint I apply by not comparing it to the book.

I was in the bathroom, doing what one does in the bathroom while simultaneously reading every label of every cosmetic cream in reach. I picked up a bottle of expensive hand-lotion and read the ingredients. The hand lotion was entitled "Sweet Pea Lotion". Imagine how absolutely amused I was to find Urea among the listed ingredients.

Will that damn dog stop bar

"Were He as Fair Once as He Now is Foul!"

2005-04-29T22:48:00.000-07:00

I am reduced to bowing to salaried labor. If only I were not so impecunious. If I had enough means to drive back my rent then my situation would not be so hopeless. Without the CO I have no means...something I did not calculate. I suppose I will be bearing the yoke soon enough. Oh well, I couldn't have kept the whetted spears of drudgery from my door forever. And as Beethoven must've said "life is a scherzo".

I've had a better opportunity to analyze why I feel it necessary to demean myself to this public display. I may have found the answer today. I was driving my car from my grandmother's back to the ranch house when I noticed an older and more argent version of my car following from behind. It followed me all the way to the driveway and beyond. It eventually pulled into the driveway of one of my distant relations. I drove past and then circled back. When I came back I saw a person waiting in the car. He pulled out and followed me far enough where I couldn't see him. If he wanted to find my place of residence...he failed miserably! That is my parent's house, where I am staying until I can find a job to live down my rent debt.

To whom it may concern: Any further intrusion into my personal life would be ill-advised. Although you are obviously a resourceful person I doubt it would be worth your time. There is nothing I can give you or tell you...after all I am just a simple adonis with a head for pretensious wordage and for vague esoteric references. My life may be interesting to a certain degree, but I am already imparting that in the only way I know how.

The main reason I am doing this blog is because I am at heart a narcisist and a verbose aesthetic. After all, I wouldn't be a narcisist if I weren't an aesthetic. Although as great as I am I have had my fall from grace. My mother detected it when I first dawned my black robes and anhk medallions. When my church attendance faultered.

To tell you the truth I am, perhaps, not very bright outside of literature, history, linguistics, botany and science. Math, chess, geometry or any sort of mundane calculations will always taunt and jeer at my impotence. Every time I go to a job interview and they pop the question "What is half of $35.00?" I will never answer due to the fact my mind is not constant enough to deal with insidious nefarious perfidious damned numbers.

Wow, have I digressed! I might as well remind you "free spirits" whom are undaunted by any sort of academic obstacle course, that finals are next week. I'm not as worried as I should be. History, I have not even studied, but I know it all by heart. All other subjects are to be seen to in the next two days.

And to update one last thing... Olivia still flirts...I still shirk and hide like the amarous coward I am. So the update is: nothing has changed...

-Sin

2005-04-27T23:22:00.000-07:00

Me with my Oncidium Colmanara "Wild Catt" to the left and my non-yielding Dendrobium on the right. Shot with my psychedelic camera at my parent's ranch in BFE.

Dogma I

2005-04-27T21:57:00.000-07:00

I would like to apologize for my previous jeremiad, for both the curses and oaths and for the “more-than-you-needed-to-know” part. My hatred for this place, though not withstanding, I have found a very odd coping mechanism. Her name is Olivia… As her name implies she is olive-skinned with dark black hair. At this stage she’s not much more than a friend…I wonder if I even want another girlfriend. I’m so hopeless when it comes to love. I just can’t explain to a girl that I admire her smile, or that every word she says to me is like an unfettered prayer come true. I can’t explain that her ideas, her philosophy, and her bubbly and at times superficial attitude towards the blank and unmitigated evil of the existing world is so beautiful. So I smile like an illiterate fool who can barely spell his name. I watch her skip and giggle, I gawk when she winks at me. But then she just walks by and like any speechless ass I continue on as if she never really existed except in a hopeful and optimistic dream. Then she meets a more foolish yet braver person than I and then he woos her in my stead and I’ve lost her to some idiot!
Maybe she’ll find this blog and I won’t have to try and fumble with audible words. She’ll read all what I’ve written here and everything will be copasetic… Yeah right!
I actually do have an agenda here…besides apologizing and fantasizing… I met, today, a man I will always remember. It won’t mean jack to you because he’s a local hero. I met Confucius Jones, in person at the Exit 58 overpass, where one of his masterpieces use to be displayed until the state white-washed it. Confucius Jones also crafted “The Wall” at the topmost part of the waste disposal plant. We shook hands and I introduced myself. He said he had heard of me! We even shared a beer! Now albeit he’s not the original “Confucius Jones” but he’s responsible for all the artistic graffiti and property defacement. Many plants, such as the waste disposal plant, are proud to feature his work and offered him to return. He said that he thought it was bait and it probably was…
I also have been faced with a growing threat. The possibility of a day job has become very real and corporeal. And while I would rather fling myself from a great height, as I’ve said before I’m not the suicidal type. “My smile is only skin-deep. Deep inside I’m crying. Won’t you join me for a weep?” If you didn’t get that then you don’t deserve an explanation… I just can’t picture myself working at a McDonalds or YMCA without burning it down for the fun of it. I held a day job once before and was treated rather poorly despite my admirable attempts to control myself. It turned out that a certain company and I won’t name names (Movie Gallery P.S., may they all burn in hell) hired people strictly for the grand opening of their new store. Once the ninety-nine cent special ended they switched our scheduling (and several others!) the night before our next work day. We all got a call saying we had missed work and would be “let go”. I returned once more to make a very sincere apology and they had to dish out money for a locksmith when their cash register keys went missing.
Now don’t misunderstand it’s not that I now feel vindicated for being wronged. If I had dwelled on it too long I would’ve been arrested for arson…but what a sight the flames would’ve been! Savage bastards! Shame on them for picking on minimal wage slaves!

Oh how I weep for the sorrows of mankind! My beautiful Oncidium Colmanara "Wild Catt" has lost its last flower. I'll post a picture of it when it was in bloom earlier last month. However I can make it bloom again, I willed it to bloom in the first place and without me it would die because: Dogma I

Living with the Walking Dead

2005-04-26T22:38:00.000-07:00

Hello again friends… Today has been quite singular. The whole of galactic activity has been represented in my quaint microcosm of a town. I single handedly drove back a band of vandals with two cans of spray paint and a whistle. I considered reporting them to the authorities but in this part of the land you can seek justice or be justice and I know where the motherf***ers live. One of these days I’ll have to ask them what the sentence is for possession of opiates like smack.
I despise this place! The freedom I gain by living in the boondocks is not comparable to having to deal with this human detritus. My patience up to this point has been a recurring miracle and it is becoming necessary to relocate. My organization I founded, the CO or “Chthonic Order”, shall be disbanded on the grounds that they cannot assemble without my presence unless I name a successor. All of them are honest and multifarious souls, but none of them have the ability to lead. Besides two years of fraternity and all we have accomplished are petty crimes the largest of which is drug trafficking. …nothing to brag about…but I wouldn’t even mention it if I hadn’t fully intended to disband, in fact I still can’t believe I AM posting this. We used to run operations through Flat Creek Park, but in all fairness we were just mules…
It’s funny, but looking over the previous paragraph of this post, how much of it sounds like desultory lies and utter bullshite. Most of my life has been so bizarre it should be written down and told for a cheap laugh. Like some apocryphal reincarnation of Hunter S Thompson. Still there’s a savage thrill in pouring my guts out and snickering at the people shaking their heads. Disbelieve if you dare.
I’m going to Louisville for a holiday. I need to escape the clutches of this subrural hell. The next time I wake to the smell of the chicken shit the farmers have coated their fields with to fertilize, or the next time I have to drive behind a tractor going fifteen f***ing miles per hour I’m going to lash out at every fat Tom of Finland ass I see! I’ll hang them from the motherf***ing flag pole!!!!
…Did I mention this place gets on my nerves? On to bigger and brighter things…

-disgruntled Sin

"Oh, How Quick Bright Things Come to Confusion"

2005-04-25T21:10:00.000-07:00

In any other life, on any other planet, at any other time I might have enjoyed myself. As it is, this town is like a muzzle on a vocalist. I'm not the suicidal type, and it's a shame. I'm not prone to self-pity either, but when it heaps up on me in the form of this town I have to stumble back in awe.
Maybe a paycheck worth in drugs and juice on a bender in some foreign town will wake my survival instincts. I wish I had some muse to prick my perforated mind back into motion. My last muse left me with no more compunction than a person discarding an orange peel after they had achieved all they'd hoped with it.
No friends worth mentioning. No one with a brain for intelligence...no one with time to find any...too bankrupt to borrow. I feel the unmistakable stigmata of being totally alone, the subtle inflections of going place to place with no personal ties to anything seen or heard. A distance too bizarre for a weak person and yet it makes me weak to think that I have no one to say hello to except the person I pass on the street.
Is this all some half-ass comedy done up with irony and symbolism to satisfy some hedonistic deity? Oh well, as Ovid once said: "Nil homini certum est."
Anyways, what a bunch of nonsequiter jabberwocky! Discordant thoughts, quotes and burbs from foreign languages, what a pansy ass I've become!
I did win the Cul de Morte fencing tourney. Basically a local gauntelet to run. It's ten consecutive fifteen point bouts. I would think it was very impressive save for the fact that most of the competitors were fresh. I bought a cigar to celebrate...
Something else! I wonder if investing in vices is the best policy sometimes? Each time I smoke a Macanudo Maduro or a bowl full of pipe tobacco, every time I tilt back a glass of Goldschlauger, every time I spike, snort, pop, or smoke an illiegal chemical, every pixel of pornography, every crumb of chocolate. Where's my portrait? What level of decadence have I achieved lately?
Is anyone even reading this damn thing? Is anybody out there? Just nod if you can hear me! Oh well time to stop ripping on Pink Floyd... "On to bigger and brighter things!"

-Sin