formo a animus

2007-02-02T08:56:00.000-08:00

I am not your object. I am not a pretty face to pose for pictures with or a doll to show off to your friends. I am not a stunt vagina or a place holder until your favorite finds a way back to you.

I will not be your number two. I will not compete for your affection. I will not settle for "I care."

Love me. or let me Leave.

Pages 9 through five

2007-01-01T17:46:00.000-08:00

Everyone wants love so that they can have dramatic little moments to save them from their drab lives.
Toss an array of vibrant colors into the painting. It's entertaining.
We're walking along the sidewalk. I proffer earth tones from your pockets. From your eyes. From everything you wish you weren't to what you wish you were. All the way to your death cloaked with white sterile sheets. All the way back to what you would've and could've been, to what you left behind. More a part of your life now than ever, because al you have are the memories.
I slip my hand around hers and hold.
Not everyone needs companionship. All I need is the essence of every person I meet. It takes a lot, but the process of gathering information through interaction is worth it.
Flies are buzzing about. She doesn't notice them, they're not real. Tiny wings bat at air and cool my face. God, I hate flies. Tiny angels of filth, always flying to and fro, tumbling like gusts of air.
Kill them.
We stop and I goad a cigarette. Words. Nothing but words threaded across time, disappearing in the vast distance. Talk for the sake of hearing it. So others can hear it, their eyes locked and mouths open, shoulders facing you squarely.
I sit and watch these things unfold, not as a participant but as a third party. A loosely involved spectator. Someone always stands to get "the look," then tells a story or anecdote. I always want to stand, walk up to them with a continuum of neglect, then suddenly plunge my pen into them twenty or twenty-one times. They'll have all the attention they need by then. Like magic, but not at all.
I pull out a bag of parlor tricks. Just as this thought hits me, I'm huffing a cloud of smoke through a pipe.
"Flies that call me on and on..."
It's just nicotine. I concentrate on lies told and what is yet to be told. Not from my mouth.
"This is my..."
What?
"Nothing."
*insert gibberish*
"What? You're so funny." (A frown shows.)
Nothing is what it seems. Everything is so obvious. Absurdity, all of it. Still I press on, grind, move forward.
Sharp as a tac, these people I surround myself with. It's to ensure that my mind doesn't fade. There IS hope in the world. Can't get things in through the cracks this way. Can moniter self control this way.
"This is mink."
Looks dead.
"It is."
Oh. We continue moving forward. The streets feel filthy under my shoes, like a thousand grains of dirt and compost. A bum is sitting on the corner and I purchase food for him, for my precious homeless messiah. My homeless Jesus.
Her head rests upon my shoulder, proving to be an arbitrary moment that makes me want to set hot coals upon my enemies.
In ancient times fire was shared throughout villages by dropping a single coal into a clay pot. The pot was perched atop a runner's head. He could then pass the smoldering fire to anyone. This is something which "Sunday Christians" don't care to know. I'm no Sunday Christian. I'm no Christian at all, in fact, although I know more than you.
Earth tones everywhere. We get up and go to the car. I know that someone is following us. Of course, I say nothing. Why would I? My eyes search faces and postures and it's negative. It's all a big negative. Her hair is messy. The ride out goes smoothly. An old Japanese woman coasts past and I miss the old times. The old way.
All of a sudden someone is in the road and I stand on the brakes. The car hits the person in the knees and she hits her hed on the dash. I'm yelling "Shit" and everyone is watching, cars are backing up behind us and I hear sirens in the distance. Or maybe it didn't happen like that at all.

After months past

2006-12-27T01:16:00.000-08:00

The alcoholic in an AA meeting says, "It's been a while since I've been here."
The miserly old man in the confessional says, "It's been a while since my last confession, father."
It's been a while since I've posted anything.

Outside while smoking, I thought of a million things to type about.
The depression.
The feeling of complete isolation.
The paranoia while I am alone.
The hypervigilance at night.
The daydreams.
The crying.
The occasional nightmare.
The complete feeling of hopelessness.
The lack of care I feel for others.
The lack of drive or ambition.

According to every internet resource I've found, I definitely have ptsd.
I scoff at the idea of being so weak, but I secretly want to have it so I have an excuse to feel this way.
Outside while smoking, a few tears were streaming down my cheek. I was thinking about Alonzo, the latest of the dead little brothers.
I desperately wanted to breakdown and bawl.
I didn't let myself get that weak.

Earlier I almost screamed at my sister in law I want to every minute she's around. I want to murder my own brother. There is no real reason. I have no meter or gauge for aggression or hate. Everything is an annoyance and I have no fuse. All I do is hold it in and fester on the apathy. In the Marine Corps I could break things. A multitude of things. I could get wasted and break myself. I could stick a knife into my arm and get stitches for free. I could throw a million bottles so that they all burst at once.

One night a friend and I were pouring lighter fluid on army men toys and chastising them for their incompetence and uselessness. As they burned we told them, "You're fucking worthless now and no one will save you. Not even god will save you now." We were talking to these little projections of ourselves. I can't do that here. All I do is sit and think. Sometimes the only things I can think about make me want to die. Other times, they just make me want to hurt myself.

Kate. I used to be in a wonderful relationship with a woman named Kate. She stuck with me through my entire deployment, and by god I ruined it in the end with my lack of sympathy and emotional isolation. We made things work, but when I got back I stopped making anything work. How it was is how it will be for the rest of my life. I had a good thing and I made it fall apart. I just stopped caring. Now it will never work.

Now I'm in a relationship with Becky. It's happening again. In arguments in the past I've just given up mentally, not taxing myself with -or just plain losing the need for- resolution. I said what needed to be said to de-escalate the situation and I pretty much lied my way out of every major confrontation by giving the typical response to fix "whatever." I'm losing the need to care. Slowly I'm worming into things and losing the passion to want any of it at all.

Everyone is oblivious to all of this. I'm the only one who sees any of it, or understands any of it. The others just aren't here. They're gone, gone far away where they don't touch me anymore.

This is how things will go indefinitely because I won't get help for something I don't even have. Because I don't have ptsd. If I did, I wouldn't get treatment.

Reverberation

2006-12-22T05:35:00.000-08:00

Somewhere over the rainbow...
way up high...
There a land that I heard of...
once in a lullaby....

Words are still ringing in my ear, resounding back and forth between my left and right drum.
"Out there in the civilian world, they don't give a fuck about you. The Marine Corps doesn't give a fuck about you either, but the Marines, they will always give a fuck. Out there, they don't just care."

If happy little bluebirds fly...
Beyond that rainbow...
Why, oh why can't I?

relationships = hope = perpetual longing for something more which will never manifest

2006-10-23T04:59:00.000-07:00

What's bothering me the most right now?
My girlfriend.
Her deceased soul mate.
The stigma of Afghanistan being a no-name war.
Accomplishments turning to gross underachievements because of nothing more than the whim of someone else's words.

There are two wars right now.
OIF;OEF
Obviously OEF is not as taxing as OIF because it's not a bloodbath.
Still, anyone who knows someone who has been to one or the other or both will regard OEF as a cakewalk because of what they have heard.
This bothers me to no end. People hear word of mouth and think that's all there is to it.
"Oh, so you didn't lose a friend? Then you did nothing."
What the fuck is that, huh?
Since when did nonexperiences dictate what happens at war? If you were there, you can state an opinion. If you were not there, you can state some shut the fuck up.
My girlfriend has a way of slightly mentioning things with a heavy undertone, such as "I mean it's not like it was afghanistan, it was a WAR."
So what exactly is Afghanistan, then?
I'll tell you what it is.
It's picking up the pieces of body which used to be ANP and loading them into a truck.
It's rifling around the bodies of dead children and elderly civilians who are trying to make it to their home before sundown for burial, because you have to make sure there are no bombs.
It's watching the lights in the sky and explosions in the valley across from yours knowing that your friends are getting fucked up and you can't do shit but look and listen to the ambience.
It's being inhumane and cruel to a SUSPECTED bomber, then watching as he's beaten for information about something you later find he was innocent of.
It's knowing that the little girl was run over and that she will never get up again.
It's seeing the faces of the people whose privacy you are violating with a gun in their face when they are 90 years old.
It's hitting innocent fathers in the head with your rifle while their entire family is tied up, helplessly watching.
It's walking through a compound at night waiting to get shot because you know they are there, somewhere.
It's driving all night constantly looking around for bombs because you know that sooner or later that bump in the road will take away your legs.
It's hearing marines die over a radio while you sit safely in a room trying to write letters to your family.
It's running towards gunfire.
It's knowing that you will die and hoping that it will hapen soon so you can get it over with.
It's not ever dying and living the rest of your life wishing you did because it was all for nothing.
It's coming home, establishing something which you want to pour meaning into, and not pouring a single drop because you know that you came home to something which doesn't care.
It's hearing that you didn't do anything which warrants anything more than the half asses ears that are fit for overemotional high school girls.
It's knowing that no one will care at all and no one can understand anyway.

My girlfriend discredits OEF because none of those sentences were replaced with "friend died." I'm not saying that it's not a terrible event, but I am saying that just because there's the color blue, it doesn't mean there's nothing else in the spectrum. What the fuck does anyone know, anyway?
My girlfriend's fiancee perished in Iraq, so he's an automatic hero to the vast majority of the world, even though it wasn't a firefight in which he gave his life. It was some piece of shit driver that killed him through incompetence.
RS (may his god rest him) is the primary focus, leaving me as secondary no matter what. She has stated that he was not a fiancee of any sort, and that they were planning on getting married someday.
Huh?
She has also stated numerous times that her soul is locked in an olive drab box.
She has also stated that she was different back then so he wouldn't know her anymore. As if that's any consolation on my behalf. That just makes it worse.
I'm fucking a dead Marine's fiancee. This bugs me a little. There was no closure, he is still hers.
She is still his.
For fuck sake, the essence of her very soul is dedicated to him. That leaves nothing but a body for me, yet the assumption is made that I will someday dedicate something more to her.
I have something which I cannot have, no matter what anyone says. I know this and I understand that it will never change.
Her life is dedicated to him, and so is my war.
The only two things I have which I am proud of myself for: myself and my accomplishments; now known as absolutely nothing.
Not worth a damn.
Because of her associations all of my efforts are rendered futile.
I can't be anything of significance for this woman.
I have nothing to be proud of when I'm with her, and I cannot be hers. She cannot be mine.
She already has a man in her life.
It's been this way from the beginning.
I can't be the man I want to be for her anyway, so I'm just drawing out the role of a sub-par stand in. A fucking stunt cock. A body that talks.

A fucking convenient piece of ass, a piece of motherfucking meat. I don't even want to have sex for any reason other than to get off because I know I'll never get any deeper.

God, I may as well call this part of the shame spiral because I feel somewhat ashamed for what I've gotten myself into, namely a woman who I could want forever but will never have due to the obstacles ahead of me.

But://realize-this.if/nothing.else

2006-10-02T12:31:00.000-07:00

Only, there was no switch.

There weren't even any wires.
There was only the brief assumption that a glimpse of life was to be had. A quick look at something more horrible than anything you've ever imagined.
I've seen it, and I've felt it. This thing is a monster which preys upon people without them even realizing it. This diarrhea of the mouth, diseased mind. Sometimes it exists, sometimes it does not, other times we simply wish for it.

What is this terrible beast which plagues mankind?
It is nothing.
It manifests itself in language and action. In thought.
When you are about to kill an innocent creature, you think to yourself, "This will be a very bad thing." Then poof, the creature is dead and you feel nothing. The anti-climatic ends to absolutely abhor the means.
When you are about to cheat on someone you love, you think to yourself, "This will be a very bad thing." Then poof, the deed is done and you feel nothing. What's worse, you realize that this is what love feels like. Nothing.

Heaven deny our unity as whole

Heavens, no! I have changed the subject again. My nihilism is reaching a peak once again.
My indifference is branching back into pleasure, I am doing things merely to bide time until I die.
God, oh god, where are you?
Lord, thou hast forsaken me.

John 14 KJV

¹ Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me.

² In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.

³ And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.

⁴ And whither I go ye know, and the way ye know.

And so it was believed, until he died. Upon death, the blood travelling to his brain had ceased with the beating of his heart, choking the grey matter of the vital oxygen it needed to stay active. With the death of his brain, there was also the death of many other things.
His memories had vanished, his feelings had ceased, and his god was now dead.
This is what I mean when I say "The anti-climatic ends to absolutely abhor the means."
Demonize whatever actions and thoughts that you will, it affects absolutely nothing.

and all those things i held so sacred
they fail me
they betray me
these pins these
needles
they never leave me
this crooked cross is
bleeding deeply
let the wine fill my veins
bring the
time to change my mind
wash away this dirty soul
(this
dirty soul of mine)
the curtain it slowly closes
the
players how they quickly change around you
not a trace, no
familiar face
only the soundtrack and the bruises we keep
to ourselves.

"If in everyday life, you are asked about continued existence after death by one of those people who would like to know everything but refuse to learn anything, the most appropriate and approximately correct answer is: 'After your death you will be what you were before your birth.' For this answer implies that it is preposterous to demand that a species of existence which had a beginning should not have an end; in addition, however, it contains a hint that there may be two kinds of existence and, correspondingly, two kinds of nothingness."
-Arthur Schopenhauer

Crap crap crap crap crap. Nothing but meaningless shit.
You know what is going on? My mind is coming and going here and there, pushed by the wind like a blowing bag. I'm sweeping low across the landscape, seeing everything for this instant and trying to process this information, only to have another 20acres of land in the next.

I keep having realistic dreams and waking with a pounding heart and an enclosed throat.
People wonder why I stay awake at night. Sleeping is a riskthat I don't want to take.

Flip a switch and...guess what?

2006-10-01T05:30:00.000-07:00

Instant death.

Trisha

2006-10-01T05:23:00.000-07:00

Trisha was a hot number.
She had a small mole on her hip though, and she obsessed over it.

Trisha would drink and drink because that gave her an excuse to act any way that she wanted. Trisha wanted to act out in a way that would earn her undivided attention from men.

She felt like she was inadequate.

Trisha would get drunk and fuck fat disgusting people that she would NEVER talk to if sober.
They would love her no matter what, even if she had a mole on her hip and even if she were hideous. They would always love her, because they only saw her when the mutual haze of alcohol was present...
And Trisha became a whore.

Trisha even contracted an uncurable venereal disease. That didn't stop her.

She just wanted to be loved.

D>A>R>E

2006-10-01T05:01:00.000-07:00

For a while I was convinced by outside sources that it was me, that I thought that I was better than everyone else. The lone wolf trapped in his den because he thinks he is the only member of the species left.
Boy, would that wolf be wrong.
But the wolf in question is not wrong. Not in this instance.

The inadequaces and securities that become all-too-apparent in life make not drinking a full time job. At the same time they drive me towards sobriety because never, EVER do I want things to become that apparent.
Tonight, a night spent with the intentions of drinking heavily, self medicating, with the reigns pulled until I come to a screeching halt.
How quaint.

I have made a few observations.
Of course, alcohol lowers your threshold for social behavior.
Tonight I saw how low people think of themselves.
Case in point, women who try so hard to be fucked so hard by a soft dick because they think too low of themselves to go after anything which engorges itself. I'm not talking about me as the engorged dick, but rather the specimens around me.
It's so sickening to me.
So fucking sickening.
Go back to the myspace bulletin about the angel and how out of the mouth of babes the words word spat, "and she looked so disgusting to them."
And they looked so disgusting to me.
And they looked hideous, and I saw myself, but I saw where I stood in the face of the pessimistic weighing of self tolerance, and I know that I AM better than that. If for no other reason than for past examples.
All night I sit, questioning of myself and my moral fabric: "Is this were I am in my life? Am I so far past this that I am taken back when seeing this kind of self depricating behavior?"
How can people have such low morals? How can women think so low of themselves that they go for the lowest bidder, or try to make their bid seem lower than it actually is?

So to sum up many words with few, I have come to the conclusion that people my age are of such a lower tolerance to self respect that I am past the point of fitting in.
It's officially hopeless.

A repost of nothing.

2006-09-12T16:58:00.000-07:00

AS time passes on and emotions peak and fade, I have come to realize that I am still here. After all of the work, all of the effort, I am still here. I stand in ruins, yet I am the only thing that remains. There is no life left in anything. It's all empty dreams and dead reality. Silence. Whenever I think to myself that "There must be more," I look up to the sky and see the clouds. They are a solemn reminder that the world is mechanical, harsh and cold. There is no magic love, or a magic god. There is only you and me.

You only live once

2006-09-12T04:58:00.000-07:00

By what measuring stick will you mark your proggress?

Will you...
A. Look for the easy joy?
-or-
B. Look for the deeper joy?

A simple question which I have been weighing lately.
Choice B leads to a state of mind which is completely and utterly alone, cutting me off from anyone else.
Choice A leaves me on the corner, waiting for karma to come pick me up again.

In a few hours the alarm will sound, and you will once again tell yourself, "Wake up."
You will then wish you were able to sleep.
The worm will burrow through your brain, recycling the waste while giving nurishment and pain.

This is the cycle of your existence.

This story shall the good man teach his son

2006-09-12T04:29:00.000-07:00

Three kids were running down the street, playfully raising weapons and aiming at each other.
Glee passed back and forth between moments of civil unrest in the neighborhood.
"Those kids are at it again," you would often overhear from the soccer moms looking out the window to feed their voyeuristic habits.
Years later the three kids (young men now) will be running down the street, raising weapons and aiming at other young men, with the sincerity you would find in any funeral ceremony.
Fear will pass back and forth between moments of civil unrest throughout the war torn city.
"Those soldiers are at it again," you will often hear from the people back home while watching the new war reports to feed their voyeuristic habits.
The children will always be there. The war reports will be there as well.
Some of the children will never be born due to the streets of the war torn city, and because of the toy guns the soldiers used to hold in their hands when they were young.
Some things change, some things remain the same.
Every once in a while nothing changes, but somehow it seems that nothing remains the same.

We happy, we few, we accursed band of brothers.

stupid fucking drunks are always stupid fucking drunks.

2006-09-04T04:48:00.000-07:00

it's the same old shit. the same old shit.

you deserve better than this. you know better.
don't try to salvage something which is way below the blue book. don't be mean, don't fool yourself, just break it off.
she is unsalvageable. you don't need something to correct, esp. not something which should make you feel better which makes you feel like complete and utter shit.

she makes you feel like complete and utter shit, all of the time. yeah, we all know, you are shit.
you don't need a fucking constant reminder.
break it like an empty bottle.
it's not making you happy.

Fuck yeah for mondays away from work

2006-07-24T22:05:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had one of those days when you wanted to burn the world and watch things die?

old shit

2006-06-15T01:03:00.000-07:00

from a few weeks after the return from afghanistan. Just highlight the shit, I'm lazy. Ctrl+A ok?

Lcpl Duert: you shut the fuck up.
Lcpl Duert: i don;t know what the hell your problem is with me accepting smith as a broken fucking toy, but he's seen as much as we have and more, so whether or less he was a pog, now he's infantry and he knows it because he hates his life in every sense of the word. HATE. you know just as well as
Lcpl Duert: i do that hating is all we have left. discontent for our jobs and our secured but nonsecure billets as plastic heroes, he knows as much as we do on the subject. so don't fucking think i'm leaving you behind for a new friend, he's OUR brother just like you're my brother.
Lcpl Duert: we are a motherfucking family, the most stable family i know and you have no right trying to fuck with that. you know that i fucking love you like a brother and FUCK YOU if you're gonna pussy out and try to change that because of some petty ass drunken jealiousy. i know you better than that. by the time you read this it will all be in the past and the only thing you can do is remember, but you know that no one remembers things the way they were.
Lcpl Duert: what happened to the time when everything made sense nash? what happened to that time? it fucking died a long time ago
Lcpl Duert: when i left evy's house i found a place where no one could find me. i laid down and cried for a MOTHERFUCKING hour. \everytime i hear a loud noise my mind quakes. when i see something suspicous i go red. i just want to cause pain nash. I just want to make someone else feel this void too.i feel like i'm fucking broken. like a broken toy, used up by the buyer, a piece of plastic who donated his soul to a lost cause.
Lcpl Duert: i f because nothing here matters.
Lcpl Duert: i quit. it's not a race, it's a trap called life.
Lcpl Duert: i quit.
Lcpl Duert: no one gets it
Lcpl Duert: it's not a race, it's a trap called life
Lcpl Duert: no one understands anymore, not even you
Lcpl Duert: fuck it
Lcpl Duert: FUCK IT ALL.
Lcpl Duert: cking care, fuck everything ive ever come to love
Lcpl Duert: i cried so hard nash because i feel like it's all lost.
Lcpl Duert: why?
Lcpl Duert: because nothing means SHIT anymore\
Lcpl Duert: and i don't want anything good out of life
Lcpl Duert: other than an impulse to destroy
Lcpl Duert: and i fucking quit
Lcpl Duert: take your stupid selfish shit and throw it out the wondow
Lcpl Duert: because it doesn't matter how i feel about anything
Lcpl Duert: nothing you feels matters either
Lcpl Duert: we have no purpose
Lcpl Duert: no life
Lcpl Duert: no meaning
Lcpl Duert: there is no reason to live unless we change things
Lcpl Duert: but we can't.
Lcpl Duert: BUT WE CAN'T.
Lcpl Duert: we're the plastic heroes, nash.
Lcpl Duert: WE ARE THE PLASTIC SHIT OF THE WORLD.

Just an exercise

2006-06-14T17:51:00.000-07:00

Last night I went on a quick typing tangent. I think I should do it again tonight, but actually save what I've done.

A couple of men walked into the resturant and asked for a booth seat. Not in the back or front or middle, but just off near the back half somewhere. "Right this way," the young lady said. She was a pretty young woman but the two men didn't look at her like most men look at pretty young women. "Here you are," the young woman said. She was wearing a miniskirt with tennis shoes like all of the other women working there. It was all women working there as far as you could tell. They all had nice legs and short black miniskirts. The two men both said "Thank you" in the same manner and took their seats. The shorter one picked up a fork to play with a little in his hand. The tall one just sat down. They were both slumped forward slightly and didn't look at her legs other than a hapenstance glance like you'd glance at the trees. "What will you two be having to drink," she asked. "What do you call that big glass of beer that you have here, the big goblet?" "Oh that, that's the ..." "I'll take that," the tall one said. The short one said that he'd "like the same, please." "Ok, right away." "Thank you."
The young woman walked away and her calves tighened and her butt tightened the way she walked, and you could see it all because of her miniskirt, but none of the two men cared. "So what are we gonna do after this," asked the short one. "Maybe go home," the tall one replied.
"Is that it?"
"Yeah. Probably. I'm not sure."
"Do you want to go out tonight?"
"Where to?"
"To a club, I suppose. I don't know, anywhere. Sitting in the room is getting to me."
"Nah, I think it's best that we stay in the room and listen to music and drink. I don't want to go sit in a club or a bar and spend so much money on alcohol."
"That's a good point, sitting in clubs just gets to me now anyway."
The short one started playing with things on the table. He was reading a sugar packet and looking around at all of the people sitting around them in the rest of the resturant. "Hey," the short one said, "You see that old woman?" "Yeah, the one in the green shirt?"
"Yes," the tall one said, "With the ear rings. Look at how emaciated she looks. She's just a dilapidated old body."
"Her eye sockets are sunken in a little."
"She's going to die soon. I'm glad I'm not that old. She looks like friend chicken."
Both men laughed a little to themselves.
They didn't look comfortable. They were wearing nice clothes, something you wouldn't see much from the other young men. They looked very nice and were clean shaven. They didn't make very many facial expressions except a puckered lip when they were thinking something over or a raised eyebrow here and there. They were both a little thin but had more muscle than usuall for the way they looked.

After dinner, after their alcohol had worn off, they drove back to their room. They sat next to each other and drank and listened to music. They didn't say much. They just sat and drank and listened to music.

Fuck yeah, about time things start working out

2006-06-11T21:21:00.000-07:00

She said that she wants me, then she said to get the fuck away from her. Now she's adamant on keeping contact because she's over the "jealously thing." Which means she's being chased, I assumed. Of course, she is. Guess what, the guy is everything that I can't be because I'm a marine. I don't take it as anything negative, because the guy is a loser. That means I will have to deal with listening to her complain about him if I accept her calls, though. Like the oldschool Bush song, "Ex." "You only call me when you're down..."
Oh jesus, I can hardly wait. *Rolls eyes* Wait for it...

Funny thing too, he rocks k-swiss. Go fucking figure. Oh man it's funny how things can become so apparent in such surges of action. Now I know exactly what I do not want to become when I get out, and that is why I'm pushing for my future. Suit, tie, wear a little bit of red for the new presentation you're giving, be sure to wear blue if in a consultation, you can mix a little but not too much, you don't want to appear too agressive and open at the same time because it's conflicting. You know the color game. You should know the color game. This guy doesn't, but at least he likes to rhyme, which kate will eat up, and he's dousing the fire with compliments so he'll be able to get in good right now with the rebound factor really kicking in at full swing. If he catches the arc correctly and becomes her new lost puppy then he's in there like swim wear.
Things fade, things grow anew, ash falls from the sky creating you. (Makes no sense, unless you really really want it to.)

Stability. Stability and the off white lifestyle of myself, that's what I want. Not constant bickering, constant depression over matters which do NOT matter. The sort of thing that many people can grasp but only few can cherish, that sort of thing. The indirect reference. Unnominated.

At least things are moving along nicely enough and I see that I was correct about the selfishness thesis.

Life is grand when you go about it in a wise manner without the little "I can't let go" flukes which abound with the cold mix of impersonal matters.
Note to self: Stay away from the weird girls. Stay far far away.

SEMPER FI MOTHERFUCKER

2006-06-09T18:02:00.000-07:00

All I could hear was the sound of violence gushing behind my eyes.
Or the dull smack of flesh pounded between two layers of bone.
I wasn't speaking loudly, just a low, harsh tone. The kind you get when a marine of higher rank wants to hit you but can't because they're watching and listening.
"I hope you remember this. I hope you remember how you feel at this moment, this deep pain..."
I continued on intermittently throughout the ordeal, vehemently hissing like a pissed off viper.
I continued to inflict as high a value of pain as I could make possible without immediately threatening his life. It gave me a sort of peace inside. A sweet sense of something was filling my nostrils.
I was breathing smoke.

No. 53

2006-06-09T14:59:00.000-07:00

Thin layer of wetness, just behind the eyelids.
blink
A spiel about something or other, the other, the something which no one talks about.
Nothing about anything, never noticing the minutes pass by.
blink
This is what makes life beautiful.

Selfish bitch.

2006-06-08T19:54:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty unworthy of trust I guess.
This woman I used to know, she assumes so much. Talking about legs wrapped around me, asking if I don't want her because I'm too busy fucking people?

WHERE THE FUCK does someone get off saying that? No fucking trust. No trust at all, and no faith. I never slipped up, I never got drunk and made out with people, I never had little extacy parties where everyone's petting each other. I've never done shit. Yet insecurities always come out and direct themselves at others. What the fuck ever.

Too much paranioa based on nothing, too many accusations for being faithful, too little self respect to accept the fact that someone wants to come close. That's what i never want to see again. So I never want to see "her" again. It's better this way, less trouble for me at least and sometimes people are just fucked up to each other in hurtful ways.

Grew too far apart, could only see each other for what we weren't, failed the upkeep.
I blame her, actually. I'm not going to put up with that kind of relationship, it's just not worth it.
I see through, see through it all
see through, see you...

I'm no puppet.
No fucking wonder I've had that song stuck in my head since I've been back. Go figure, huh? Haha

How we exist in life is relative to how we perceive.

2006-06-06T03:28:00.000-07:00

Everyone has their own unique perception of existence. The way we grow up socially dictates the choices we make to some extent, most often a large extent. When I see a cross, I see a cross in flames on easter sunday. A hand pushing a child's head under water. When my brother sees a cross, he sees my mother's fist. The rapist father who abandoned/refused him completely.
Everyone has their own idea, their own life experience, their own back story.
Truth is relative to the individual.
It's impossible to find someone who really shares your perception.
It's impossible to share your views in a complete manner.

All truth is flawed and essentially a lie in one way or another. There is no shared existence between people and there is certainly no viewing glass without streaks and spots with which to examine life through.

not this again. give me some god damn cocain.

2006-06-05T00:54:00.000-07:00

Well, my assumption is that all the angry shit I've been writing aimed towards some woman in my little short stories/story are actually aimed towards my mother.

Also, I think it's pretty fucking pathetic to let something like that bottleneck me into a train of thought. That's where all creativity comes from lately it seems. I do not know what has changed, I know that it has been like this since coming back from afghanistan. Like you give a fuck.
Maybe before afghanistan.
Like you give a fuck.

What else? What else is that I'm lacking everything. NO ambition. NO drive, other than perhaps the drive to remove myself from the current situation through whatever means I have at my disposal. It's time for me to sleep.

It's interesting that I'll use the internet to vent thought, but that I will not vent thought to a person. Usually cries for help are on someone's shoulder. Don't want help? Well, that's a bunch of bullshit. I want help. I want you to take a knife and lop off my head. There isn't much room for a beautiful mind if it's broken or wired wrong.

I have a scraggly wire running [burrow] through the center of my [soul] body. It's a non electrical wire, it's really more of an elongated coat [mind] hanger.

2006-06-04T16:08:00.000-07:00

I don't regret anything in life.
Every mistake you make, everything which you label as a mistake, it all adds to your experience.
You only get one chance to live. Your existence is absurd and will not happen again, so take advantage.
This is how I constantly move forward, even if all anyone ever sees are the stupid little insignificant actions. Everyone is blind to everything but their own life, anyway. Myself included.

I want to go hiking.

I don't expect anyone to enjoy reading this entry since it's about nothing. Maybe I should tell a story so that the reader can walk away with something.

Nope. Fuck you. I don't whore out my mind like that anymore.

2006-06-04T16:05:00.000-07:00

You know what?
Fuck it.
This shit is just so asinine, riddled with dramatic absurdity.

No more. No long distance bullshit. If you want me, fine. Wait.
I'm not attatched to anyone's hip and I don't feel much of what I used to about anything other than some blind drive or ambition. But not for you.

This is some ridiculous shit.

2006-05-22T01:59:00.000-07:00

mix with her.
the saliva dripping from my lips to the inner bowels of the toilet as thw whirlpool sucks everything inward, at the focal center point it all sinks in and expands introvert from the outskirts. Spitle sucks towards the cwenter, caught int mid air as it turns frm a stream into a single point of glob, falling ever so slowly into the toilet bowl. Filled with a gallon of pure urine, falling deep down into oblivion, the oblivion that never escapes and always remains. Into the wirlpool of destruction.. The universe collapses before your eyes.
Your world is a log of feces in a toilet.
A public toilet.
So inpersonal, yet so personal that you can't help but notoce the length of saliva hanging from your lsoft supple lips;;.

These god tags around my neck, tey don;t exist. they're around my neck, but only in thought. not in actuallity. there is no escapeing the inevitable.
there is no escaping the inevtitable. there is no escaing the inevitable.

try.
you must try.
try or die.
be unpredictable or...
the mantra for all who go in deth's way, only to survive and tell the tale of nothing.

absolutely nothing.

and they still say...

such fools known by nothing, a tale told by an idoiot, full of sound and fury, a tale told by an idiot who frets his hour upon the stagfe, signifying nothing.

nihil ex nihilo.
there is nothing other than the end.

Message never sent

2006-05-08T19:58:00.000-07:00

8:51 PM 2006-05-07
Lately I feel more and more like a used piece of tissue. That's how us breaking up makes me feel. I don't know why.
I feel a little used, i guess in the "go away so i can feel better" sense. Don't think it's some big thing either, it's not some constant thought. It's just in the back of my head, far enough back that i had to concentrate to even realize it. Everytime i talk to you on the phone i want to yell "YOU DID THIS" into the receiver. I know that it's all partially my fault.
I don't want to kill myself but I want to kill myself. I'm not going to because I'm not that irrational yet.
I wish we could just drop this limbo period, the "in between." I want you to move on so that I can never have you, or I want to get out have you forever. Whichever one ends up happening, I want it to happen now. It won't.
God damnit Kate, I'm just so frustrated and I'm tired of taking it out on you in little ways. I haven't been sweet lately. I haven't been understanding lately. I haven't been any of the good things that I have been in the past because I'm not supposed to be like that with anyone other than a significant other. It's going to end up pushing you away with enough time, because you're going to think that I'm always going to be this detatched and this blatant about everything in life from now on. I just put myself on pause. Fucking limbo.
I really just wish that we would both hurry up and find someone better.
It's just such an asinine thought because neither one of us will. If we're meant to be together then we'll be together and that's final. It doesn't mean we can't fuck it up though.
These are just some of the little things running through my mind recently. I really dislike bringing them up to you over the phone because your voice sounds muffled and I don't care if you're upset if I can't hear you being upset.
Put a gun to my head. Paint the wall with my brains.
I feel like by saying "Yes, we do need a break for a while" that I effectively pushed a boulder off a cliff and I don't know who or what is at the bottom, just that the boulder is going to destroy something with its force.
PUT A GUN TO MY HEAD, PAINT THE WALL WITH MY BRAINS.
I just feel rejected by you somehow.
You were my emotional equalizer and safe haven but things got too hard to stay faithful emotionally. Not even emotionally. It seems like what really happened was that you wanted a social life, which is fine I guess. It's not like anything is different other than a feeling of pain.
There's so much that I want to get off my chest, but I don't have the guts to say any of it because I know it's all going to sound wrong. I don't even want to try. Trying before = us breaking up. Trying now = us losing friendship? Probably.

Fucking kill me. Just fucking kill me. Fucking kill me. Kill me. Just motherfucking kill me. Kill me. Kill me. Kill me. Kill me. Kill me. Kill me. Stab me in the gut with a blade, slit my throat, beat my head in with a rock and douse me in gasoline, set me on fire. Kill me. Kill me. Kill me. I want to fucking die. I'm tired of this nonsense "trying" bullshit. I want things to be simple. I don't want to ever have to try for anything ever again. Everything is so pointless and absurd. This whole message is pointless and absurd. All of it. Everything is, and I want to die, I want to drive into the guardrail going 120 without a seatbelt on. I want to rear end every car I follow on the highway. I want to break my laptop into pieces. I want to smash my phone on the cement. I want to break my guitar on the cement wall. Smash. SMASH. I don't understand why I ever hope for anything in the first place, it's always misplaced somehow and everything ends anyway. I wish someone would get it over with and just fucking murder me. I do NOT want to be alive. I want to feel a lot of pain before I die. I want to have a terrible drawn out death and savor every second with writhing screams. Kill me. I really really want to die, there isn't any point to being alive right now. And this is how I feel. It's just so hollow after seeing your face. I want you and I need you, but I can't have you. I can be a great guy, but at times like these it's hard to see. I hope you aren't looking.

full of regret for a past life blah blah blah,
-Chris

you build a tomb to store your rust, moth eaten piles of blowing dust

2006-05-05T10:21:00.000-07:00

fast forward.
in the car.
"Why are you doing this?" she asks. She doesn't really ask. She thinks it, and I perceive it as a conversation. I know exactly what she's thinking. At this moment she's wondering if this could be something that I've been planning all along. She's wondering how she could be so stupid. She's wondering if she has been my time filler. My new game. A way for me to kill time.
Before we met face to face, we talked through letters. Every letter was a path into her psyche. Every envelope was just a light for the path. She said that she would write every week. "I always write," she claimed, "So I'll just write to you instead. An easy shift."
And easy shift.
Now we're in the car. You're listening to my story, but I'm in the car. So is she. Mouth sealed shut with electrical tape, wrapped many times around her head. There are thick bunches of hair showing between the shiny black bands of tape. I'm slightly aroused by the shudders of air that she releases through her little puckered nostrils, and the tears running down her wet face. She's crying. She's crying just for me.
Of course she's crying. She's about to die. She may be tortured first. Of course she's crying. She feels a sense of rejection, loss, sorrow and of course, a large dose of dread.
For whatever reason, while driving, I pull out my dick and start to masturbate. Looking over at her, I see her huffing air, crying so hard that snot now drips religiously from her nose. I'm almost at climax. I think about all that has happened in this last year. I reach orgasm and simultaneously start crying.
This is the best moment of my life.

plastic bags of novicane, some PCP to kill the pain

2006-05-05T10:17:00.000-07:00

is this what you wanted?
is this what you needed?
cry on your tissue then THROW IT AWAY.
that picture is a memory and now you made yourself a ghost.
you did this to yourself. WHAT YOU WANTED.
so now to me you're fading out and away.
leaving me behind as you refuse to move on.
how does this happen?

how can i convince you of anything> HOW?
i hate you so much right now that i want you to find someone better.
better now than later. I know you will later.
i don't want to be your time killer.
YOU WILL REPLACE ME.

D is for Destroy

2006-05-01T14:16:00.000-07:00

I hate a new shame spiral assignment. I'm excited.
The results will be quite shallow, but that's ok. All I want to do is cause extreme frustration.
Oh man, this is going to be so perfect...
I can't wait.

"Why are you doing the 'shame spiral' thing again!?"
"Because I HAVE to."
"Why?"
"Because it's part of THE plan. Part of my little system for living. I HAVE to do it. It's more than just feeling compelled."

C is for Crack

2006-04-24T23:19:00.000-07:00

There's a video playing of some guy smoking a shitload of crack. He keeps smoking his crack, then exhales a huge cloud of smoke.
He starts bobbing his head to his shitty eminem rap.
He smokes some more.
Exhales some more.
Then he pulls out a 22 guage revolver. I didn't even know they made revolvers that small in caliber. Who cares.
He loads a round, points it at his head, and the next shot is him slumped over.
Now, you'd think that it was some dramatic tribute to a dead friend.
Nope.
The rap keeps playing and a bunch of still images of women in bikinis keep fading in and out, all to this shitty sociopolitical rap.
At one point a picture of spongebob came up with him exclaiming, "I'd hit it!"

I have no idea what the hell I just watched. At any rate, hopefully the guy is dead.
It's a much more comforting thought than some jackass crack addict pretending to kill himself for content in some stupid 'bomb-ass video.'
I hate crack addicts.

4:04PM

2006-04-24T19:04:00.000-07:00

I was outside smoking a cigarette.
I looked around a little bit.
What did I see?
Nothing.

In a way though, I saw everything.
I'm not going to try to explain anything. That will come later when I feel like writing.

B is for Blizzard

2006-04-23T19:16:00.000-07:00

So now things are going to change somehow.
It might work, if not, oh well.
I have a sore on my forearm from where I was going over and over the same spot with my fingernail.
I'm going to make use of my time by being proactive and trying to understand a little more about the social aspect of life. I may actually hang out with people outside of the Marine Corps.
Maybe not.
I'm definitely no clam or hermit, I'm just too lazy to go out and do anything.
So now I'll go out and do things. Meh, why not?
Man, I'm really kinda fucked in the head.
Meh, I'm fine.

Bite

2006-04-17T14:13:00.000-07:00

I keep picking more and more at the little marks.
My heart rate speeds up a little and I get a littloe panicked, a little jittery.
I start scratching more frantically now, trying to get rid of the itch.
Trying to dig it out of my skin.
Dark red flows down toward the ground.
On the tile everything is a red smear on white lenolium. It all looks like dark, dark ketchup. Hand print here, pool there, ketchup everywhere.
Three,
Two,
One,
The finger squeezes the trigger, and with a bang the greyhounds are off chasing the bunny down the strip. Paws pounding the ground, muscles contracting to the rythmic pattern of flight. The little bunny on the little rail is moving a little faster than the dogs.
The greyhounds have taken flight.
My heart is officially racing.
Dig dig dig scratch tear deeper into my skin. Dig dig dig upheave toss out throw away the hollow. Close my eyes so hard that they envelope you whole. Overlap your lids with the strength of my physical strain. Dig out your eyes with my nails.
I'll hold your hands down as you peer into my empty sockets, through my eyes I'll always watch you rot.
Rot.

mosQUITO

2006-04-15T19:39:00.000-07:00

Little scabs everywhere, when my eyes itch I dig into the scabs with my dirty nails.
Just mixing a little. Mixing with the tip of my finger. A little. Just. Mixing.
My fingertip just moved back and forth. A li...ttle bit....j.....us...t...to.......and fro....
This itching in my eyes won't go away. My eyelids don't help, I squint shut so so hard that they overlap and eat me up completely. All the light is just blinding. Eye itch. Little scabs all over me, just picking a little. My fingertip is a little red, just a little darker red. Tiny holes in the skin.
My eyes itch. Just a little, just mix it a little. Just scratch it a little. Just make a few scabs go a little deeper. I have dark pock marks.
My eyes are bleeding red and white.
My fingertip is a little red, just a little darker red from where my eyes used to be.

Something in the way

2006-04-11T00:29:00.000-07:00

From my hole under the floor I can hear the footsteps above me.
I can peer through the cracks and see all the smiles.
I can see them when they cry alone in their rooms.
I can hear them when they sing, they have nothing inside anymore.
They get more and more miserable as time passes.
They are fading. They are fragile and they are fading.
One by one they wander throughout the house.
One by one they find more and more.
One by one they find the cellar door and come down to join me.
One by one we all get trapped inside the basement.
We can see the footsteps above us.
We can see them when they cry.
We are together, but we are completely and utterly alone.

Saint Christopher, USMC

2006-03-31T11:51:00.000-08:00

4:09 PM 2006-03-30
The sky is a darker shade of overcast.
Rain ticks away in the grass and on the trees. The rocks are glazed over. My hand spreads the water over my face and head, up and down my arms. I don't feel the droplets anymore. I just feel the wetness.
At ground level my eyes slowly scan.
“Left, right, center.”
Lather, rinse, and repeat.
The general surroundings are not my main focus.
My main focus is on the birds perched atop his carcass.
Feathers slightly flared and beaks partially open. Every few minutes they shudder off the contents of their wet feathers. Other than that they remain motionless like me. They're waiting.

Thick droplets pour from the low edges of my body. The acute curves of my body sink into the dirt and create tiny lakes of rainwater. A bird shakes off the cold. His beak opens slightly. His beak closes slightly. The rest of his body is firmly planted. Wings raised just a little above his small frame to keep his down feathers dry. The rain lightens just enough to catch its breath.

Every day that I return the scenery is the same. There are always a few birds in the area, a body facedown in the mud. Every day our detriment is the same. We're fading slowly into the earth. Every day I lay down. Every day I get back up. Every day it gets a little harder to justify my reasons for coming here. Once the body is gone and there is nowhere left for the birds to perch, I will leave and never come back.

the stitches through my lips

2006-03-29T00:39:00.000-08:00

i just want to scream in your face.
THEY ARE NO DIFFERENT, CAN'T YOU SEE?? THEY DON'T GIVE A FUCK..

I love your passion, but I hate the selfishness of your passion. To feel empowered.
I can't tell you that. It would be wrong.

Everytime i think about how you want things to happen all i am reminded of is how much of yourself you are putting on the line with the very idea.
I can't tell you that i believe in you because you may fall.
If i think you may fall then i cannot tell you otherwise.
I can't tell you that either.

Here is what I love: Suffering for the better of others.
I have the martyr thing. I think it's the only noble and honorable thing left.
I want to be noble and honorable because it helps everyone around me.
I hate being selfish. I fucking HATE IT SO MUCH. I can't stand the idea of concept that I am here for me. I am NOT HERE FOR ME. I am here for everyone else.
This would all work so much better if i didn't care very much.. I could say so many things.
I know how it works, I say this, you think that, both of us feel bad.
I don't want to strip away the feeling you have with my words.
I CAN'T STAND BITING MY TOUNGE.
I CAN NOT STAND IT. It kills me. I understand that it's in the best interest sometimes.

I fucking hate this. i hate it so much. i'm sitting here staring at shit, just breathing.
breathe in.
breathe out.
inhale.
exhale.
hold silence.
speak.
be quiet.
say something.
it's all the same proccess, and i breathe hard. it's always one way or the other, i have no middle ground. i can't have middle ground.
this all just reminds me of how much the human race is a piece of shit waste on this earth. if i had the power i would litterally destroy everything.
i got on my knees on the sidewalk and prayed to some god, telling him that i understand that he doesn't have to listen to me and he has no need to prove anything to me, but that his children were becoming worse and worse and he should just burn it all away. seriously, i said, just burn it all away. you see where we are going. i was so serious and pleading so hard that i was almost drying, sending words out into the atmosphere hoping something would catch them.
that's how much i hate us. i hate people. i despise them. i have one wish. make you happy through the death of all people.
yeah i hate some things about you. i don't hate you.
i hate some things about you just like i hate some things about everyone.
i should say that i shouldn't say things like that, but honestly that would be a lie.
i can't lie about some things. i can't lie about anything. who the fuck am i kidding.
i feel like my sacrifices are petty and pointless because everyone else will always do their own thing. it's so fucking pointless to even try. i would sign up for four more years of infantry just to do good. someone has to suffer for them. SOMEONE HAS TO SUFFER FOR THEM.
and no one does. or someone does, but that's not enough. no one cares enough to put themselves in the position. WELL I DO, SO FUCK IT ALL.

devices used to measure time

2006-03-26T18:28:00.000-08:00

boredom is the enemy.
boredom is the enemy.
i need to get a haircut.
boredom is the enemy.
boredom is the enemy.
boredom is the enemy.
i can't sit still.
if you sit still or become predictable, you die.
boredom is the enemy.
my fingertips are getting nice deep callouses.
boredom is the enemy.
boredom is the enemy.
boredom is the enemy.
boredom is the enemy.
i pace back and forth.
last night i stood in the middle of a field and tried to cry but it didn't work at all.
i just stood there, then laid there.
boredom is the enemy.
boredom is the enemy.
the sky looks beautiful at night.
boredom is the enemy.
we own souls, but there is no afterlife.
boredom is the enemy.
boredom is the enemy.
the world is a rock tumbler for our souls.
boredom is the enemy.
once we become a diamond we move on to everything or nothing.
boredom is the enemy. boredom is the enemy. boredom is the enemy.
occupy my time. help me.
help me help you.
boredom is the enemy.
i want to talk on the phone. about so many things. by the time the phone rings it has all left my mind.
boredom is the enemy.
killing me softly with his love, he always tells me this, and he always does it while i watch him in the mirror.
boredom is the enemy.
boredom is the enemy.
boredom is the enemy.
boredom is the enemy.
old souls, new souls, fresh souls, battered and shredded souls, they come from nothing, i think.
boredom is the enemy.
boredom is the enemy.
kill me quickly because i have earned it.
boredom is the enemy.
boredom is the enemy.
pacing back and forth over and over again with a cigarette, i've smoked a pack within 8 hours.
boredom is the enemy.
become redictable and you will die.
boredom is the enemy.
jesus christ.

2006-03-25T00:45:00.000-08:00

I fucking hate drunk shitbag marines. They care about no one but themfuckingselves.

...

2006-03-24T19:41:00.000-08:00

The final reason for this weekend is to figure out something that's more important than any of the little details. I need to hash out what exactly this feeling is. If I can figure that out, then I can figure out what all the rest is.

I need to get in touch with everything.
I need to feel the grass.
I need to breathe the air.
I need to see the waves crash into each other and watch little crabs consume their feasts before my eyes.
I need to figure all of this out.
And figure us out, once and for all.

Weekend mission.

2006-03-24T19:02:00.000-08:00

So here's what I'm thinking about this weekend.

I'm in a relationship with someone who's very very close to me.
It's the kind of relationship where I know everything fits so there's no reason to kill it.
I'm not very young, but I'm young. I have a lot of things ahead of me, but they all are aimed towards a career. No more pointlessly fucking around. No more adventure. I wasted those years being in the marine corps and though my lust for new things is not dead, many would say that by now it should be.
But it's not.
Even so, I have to start looking forward and work hard for a real life because someday I WILL have a family and someday I WILL want good things for them, things other than cockroach infested walls and parents who are aggravated constantly because of bill collectors. A free car at 16. A big screen TV so they don't feel embarrassed when they bring friends over. The funds to take them on vacation and show them parts of the world. Things like that.
I hate people, yes, but I don't hate all people. I want to watch a small child grow into an adult and I want to be proud of their achievments because they had a chance and they took it.
That's what I want for my future, eg. their future. They'll exist someday.

Now here are some potential problems.
Being far away from my significant other, there are always doubts. That's normal. However, sometimes the doubts make sense. I'm old but not that old. There is still time to make sure that I have found the woman who I want to spend my life with. My children's lives with. There MIGHT (slim chance) be someone better. I doubt it, but there are a lot of people in the world. I don't know.

I'm young but not that young. I am young enough to finish getting my fill of women and I think that the more women I get to know intimately, the more I'll understand things. The more fitting of a husband I'll be later on to my wife.

I want my wife to have something solid in the way of a carreer. I don't want something wishy-washy. I want something that will end up static and stable. I don't want the "chasing the dream" near as much as I want the "this is what I love to do and it provides."
I'm not saying that I want a free ride, not by any means, but I just really don't want the whole "i'm working on this and that, but..." thing. I want someone who can sit down and deal with everything.

My significant other loves music. Music is life. What she really loves is being intwined with the music and emoting towards other people and receiving their emotions in turn. I have a feeling that she's going to drop all of her future plans to be in a band and that this will go on for quite a long time, to the point that there's no other option left for her than to get some shit job. She's extremely passionate but there has to be a line.

When I get out of the marine corps i was planning on moving in with her, but now the plan is changing a little. I don't want to dive right in. I want to play it smart. I've invested too much to make it any sort of long term fling. I want to be near her, I do not want to smother her.

There is a lot to do in the world and if my girlfriend wants to travel and go on the road, she needs to think about everything. I've invested so much at this point that I'm moving away from my family and free college to be with her. If she's gone all of the time then that's not very evened out. Maybe that's something for me to think about on my own, but hey. That's the point of this weekend. Think everything out and not include her in any of it until I get self resolution.

I should summarize all of this into small sentences but they already are in my head. This is all stuff that's been here for a little while. I just needed to give myself a real reason to put it all together into constructive thought and address it all, rather than letting it go as random and sparatic nonexistent thought.

tick tock there's no alarm tonight

2006-03-23T23:03:00.000-08:00

i wait and wait and wait and there is nothing.

i just want the waiting to end.

what does it take to get a drink in this place?

there's a lot that i want to say, but i've said it all before.

music is an emotion, the lyrics just steer you towards the emotion.

what does it take to get a drink in this place?

walk with a cane?

2006-03-23T00:27:00.000-08:00

all of this thought about love and caring just gave me a very trivial and pointless feeling.
as if it's all a sham because someone will surely die someday, or something will surely come up and one of us will leave someday.
it's useless. it doesn't change the world, not from here it doesn't.
everything is still the same and nothing ever changes, so what's the point?
it just takes up more time.
it's really very trivial and pointless,
to the extent that everyone in the world is just filling idle time with social interaction, as if loving someone is a good way to kill time.
it's really very trivial and pointless.
sometimes i don't understand myself or anyone else.
it's not really worth the risk, but i'll go on anyway since this feeling will change just as quickly as it came over me.
i just feel silly.
silly about the whole "we're special" thing, because no one is special.
we're all the same.
we all come from grass and dirt, essentially we're all the same and that just pushes forth the thought in my brain about how people just enjoy filling up time slots with different things.
it's very trivial and pointless, all of the time we invest into each other.
it doesn't really medicate.

i think that's a lie.

this is the most detatched feeling i've ever felt and it sickens me, by the way.
to look down at myself from the ceiling and see myself thinking.
to just watch from the outside.
i really do have a problem, a very very serious problem. i don't know how to address it.
if i bring up something like this to you, it'll just hurt you and nothing will be solved.
i hope i feel better in the morning, but i probably won't.
nothing lasts forever, but that just means that someday i'll die and that will be the end.
it doesn't mean that i'll stop feeling bad while i'm alive. if anything, i'll feel worse and worse until i die.
just like the sad old men.
just like them.

THIS IS MY MIND

2006-03-22T23:56:00.000-08:00

i'm so aggravated and so self loathing right now.

I can't give up. I want to say fuck it, but i can't give up.
I don't have that choice.
FUCK ME AND MY WITHERED SOUL
FUCK ME AND MY VANITY
FUCK ME AND MY PITIFUL WORDS
FUCK ME AND MY USELESSNESS
FUCK ME, I AM NOT WORTH THE EFFORT
FUCK ME, I AM NOT BRAVE
FUCK ME, I DESERVE THIS LIFE
FUCK ME, MY MIND IS WEAK
I AM A WRETCHED EXCUSE
I AM A WHORE ON THE STREET
I AM A CHILD WHICH SHOULD'VE BEEN ABORTED
I AM WEAK AND FRAIL AND WORTHLESS
PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE
I AM NOT BRAVE
I AM NOT STRONG
I AM NOT A MAN
FUCK ME AND FUCK MY DREAMS AND FUCK MY SOUL WHICH ISN'T ANYWHERE TO BE FOUND
FUCK EVERYTHING I FIGHT FOR
NONE OF IT MATTERS AND NO ONE CARES
FUCK EVERYTHING I THINK IS TRUE
IT'S ALL A LIE AND I DON'T CARE
FUCK EVERYTHING I WANT TO FUCKING GIVE UP RIGHT NOW AND THROW EVERYTHING AWAY AND START FRESH I JUST WANT TO DROP EVERYTHING AND START FRESH I WANT TO THROW IT ALL AWAY AND START FRESH

FUCK IT ALL. I'M TIRED OF BEING PISSED OFF ALL OF THE TIME. I'M TIRED OF BEING SAD ALL OF THE TIME.
FUCK IT ALL. I AM STUPID AND SELFISH AND FULL OF BULLSHIT.
FUCK IT ALL. I AM SAD AND PATHETIC.
FUCK IT ALL. I AM WEAK. INSIDE I AM WEAK. DEEP INSIDE WHERE I CAN'T CHANGE ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING IS WASTE.
FUCK IT ALL. IF I AM NOT WEAK THEN I AM SCARED.
FUCK IT ALL. I DON'T WANT TO RIDE OUT LIFE ANYMORE.
FUCK EVERYTHING. FUCK YOU, FUCK ME, FUCK LIFE, FUCK HAPPINESS, FUCK HONOR, AND FUCK AMERICA. FUCK AMERICA.
FUCK GOD. I DON'T CARE ABOUT A GOD. I AM GOD. TV IS GOD. TECHNOLOGY IS GOD. FASHION IS GOD.
FUCK GOD. FUCK HIM AND HIS CREATION OF SHIT. NOTHING IS PERFECT. THE WORLD IS A FAILURE.
FUCK GOD. GOD IS A FAILURE.

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

2006-03-22T09:45:00.000-08:00

i don't know why and i can't help it
i feel trappedi don't know why and i can't help it
i feel trappedi don't know why and i can't help it
i feel trappedi don't know why and i can't help it
i feel trappedi don't know why and i can't help it
i feel trappedi don't know why and i can't help it
i feel trappedi don't know why and i can't help it
i feel trappedi don't know why and i can't help it
i feel trappedi don't know why and i can't help it
i feel trappedi don't know why and i can't help it
i feel trappedi don't know why and i can't help it
i feel trappedi don't know why and i can't help it
i feel trappedi don't know why and i can't help it

i'm going to talk to someone about this
but they won't care
and they won't help

KILL IT.

2006-03-21T22:40:00.000-08:00

I ache so bad inside that I want to put a bullet through your brain.
If there was something that I could say, none of this would matter.
There isn't.
I don't want you to shut me off because then I'll never have anything to say.
I ache so bad inside that I want to put a bullet through your brain.

One year ago

2006-03-21T09:25:00.000-08:00

He was standing in the stairwell that night cutting his stomach with a pocket knife. He said he was trying to cut it out. "Cut what out," I asked, to which he replied "You."
He was crying and huddled against the wall near the steps. Now and then he would stand up and wipe his eyes, lift his shirt and drag the knife across himself. Everytime, I could tell that the knife was not very sharp because the skin was catching on the blade and some of the cuts looked like dotted lines. When there was too much runoff of blood he would rub it all into his skin with the palm of his hand. I looked down at my hand and noticed that it was all discolored and darker near the edges and in the web of my fingers. I tried to wipe some tears away so that I could see better. Then I started pacing back and forth. I looked over at him and he was doing the same thing. His knife looked like shit. He looked insane, pacing back and forth and moving his mouth as if he were talking to someone. "What?" "Stop it." That was a long time ago, though. He's still around, I see him quite often. When we lock eyes I ask him how he's doing. "Fine. I'm alive." My room mate asks me why I ask myself how I'm doing. "I'm trying to cut it out."
"Cut what out," he asks me.
"You."

die sonne sheint mir aus den augen

2006-03-21T09:16:00.000-08:00

The sun is shining out of my hands
it can burn, it can blind you
when it breaks out of the fists
it lays down hotly on your face
it lays down painfully on your chest
balance is lost
it lets you go hard to the floor
and the world counts loudly to ten

influence

2006-03-18T08:54:00.000-08:00

light fires in your cities
lay in the ashes looking up at the sky
*sob*
it's mostly fake.

Rolling around in the remains; laughing and crying and giving out smiles
(there isn't a purpose, really)
Wake me when I've killed you so I can go back to bed.

HOLD! L shape left! Moving. Standing. Turn and go I have the mark!

2006-03-17T22:06:00.000-08:00

I never asked them to blow kisses and make the newest toys.

I never asked them to tell you how to hope for...

I never asked them to make us even, like this.

I never asked them to create the thoughts which tore.

Full of content but void of purpose

2006-03-17T16:33:00.000-08:00

I'm a fucking tool. I'm a fucking tool to everyone.
to every motherfucker.
our base for morality has no real base in and of itself. I'm everyone's little puppet. I sit here and play along as if I want to do it, but the fact is, I'm just too passive. Maybe one of these days I'll build the courage to say "fuck every last one of you. This is not me and I am not going to look at myself in the mirror and see the same face anymore."
Maybe I'm being self centered and not caring about the social aspect of life in the midst of our huge and variable populous. Maybe I'm just playing the victim, as if everyone is against me somehow.
I'm not playing the victim, because no one has done anything to me. I've brought it all upon myself. Walking around in full uniform in the heat for an hour each day being baked by the sun picking up other people's trash or more likely no trash at all because I've picked up the remaining trash 4 hours ago. I did that to myself. Getting counseled by a sgt I've know for four years and being told what a stupid piece of shit I am. That was my fault too. Having my girlfriend get mad at me for making the phone ring over and over and not being able to answer it, that was my fault because I tried to call and knew I probably wouldn't get through. Freaking out over her being angry about it before giving the situation time and hurting her, that was my fault. I should've waited or just let it go completely.
Getting told that I'm wrong when I am legitimately wrong, there's nothing abnormal or intrusive about that.
I'm not a victim. Even all of this shit, getting used and having fucked up joints for the rest of my life and having such a pointless existence for so long and realizing that there's no reason behind it, it's my fault that I'm in this predicament. I signed a contract.
I'm not a fucking victim.
Now here is what I was talking about earlier:
I have a tendency to take others into consideration before I take a look at my own. I'll laugh because I'm socially responsible for making them think they're funny and well oriented. I'll make time for them even if I'm busy so they think they're important to someone. I'll wash their clothes with mine because they should know that they can rely on other people. I'll stop taking a shit so that they can take a shower before they go somewhere so that they know their needs are important to others. I do all of these nonsensical and unreasonable things, just because I feel that it's what I'm responsible for as a human taking part in society. Or trying to take part in society.
"You're irresponsible. You have no sense of responsibility at all! You can't even take care of yourself!!" -mom
It's true, though. Even after all of this time, it's true. I can't keep my emotions in check. I can't control the direction my life is going. I can't even take care of the people I actually care about. My girlfriend, I can't make her feel safe and protected. I can't even make her feel as if everything will be ok.
My little sister, I can't do anything for her at all because I'm simply too far away and I'm not in the loop. I don't know what to say to make an impact because I haven't been near her socially and I don't even know what kind of friends and family she has now.
My dad, I can't do anything at all for him because if I'm honest (which I'm bound to be) then he'll feel like his son isn't as great as he thought. He's just one of those fucked up vets who put their lives on the line for some politician.
"You did WHAT? Oh great, now my son is going to give his life up for some politician's war. I can't believe you. Great. That's just great." -dad
All of this shit I do, I do it because I think I'm obligated to do it. Not because I want to. Well, making people feel good makes me feel good, but not so much lately. I'm changing permanently and pretty soon it will be all too apparent and I'll just have to cut ties with everything and start over at some point purely out of lack of communication and loss of contact over time.
I've already lost contact with all but two friends. Two. They're not even friends. They aren't even considered acquaintances. I haven't talked to my parents since the first weekend after leave. They don't really care to make first contact anyway. I guess it's up to me, so I guess it won't happen.
The things that used to be so great about me are gone or dying slowly in the heat of the sun. Shriveling up like someone's self image when they're being picked on by someone they look up to. The way the human mind works is really quite stupid. Not ignorant, but stupid. There is a difference.
I am a fucking tool and I hate it. I'm a tool to everyone. Every single person. I make sacrifices for everyone. Even my girlfriend who I swore I'd always be completely honest with and never let things drift, I've sucked up that notion and I've just started playing along with the normal little social games. Now when I think about myself with her, I'm a normal person. I'm just like everyone else. Little white lies and keeping secrets about the past and bottling things up, I never wanted to do any of that because it fucks up everything down the road. Lies add up and compliments mean nothing after a while. Keeping things secret mean they become a bigger deal over a longer and longer period of time. Bottling up emotions just adds gunpowder to the powder keg and eventually it explodes and kills everything near it.
Even to my girlfriend I'm being a fucking tool. That's the last thing I want to be to her. I want to be completely honest about everything and build upon that.
"Don't you lie to me! Don't say you're telling the truth, I KNOW you're LYING TO MY FACE!!!" -mom
-
-
-
-
-
-
I fucking hate humanity. It's the worst thing in the world. Now it's the worst thing in the universe. My one true hope is that there is no deity and no life force and no second chance, because when we die, we should be dead. I hope there is no soul. We don't deserve a soul. The animals maybe, but not us. We're so much worse than the animals. We do such terrible things on a whim and don't think about the after effects until they've gone into motion. Until it's too late and everything must run its full course. I hope that the atom bomb was the start of a string of reactions and that it soon runs its course and destroys us. That's all I'm really waiting for. True justice.
Justice on a higher level than our fallible justice. Better than our "christian" justice. Something real and efficient and true to nature.
We're all dead and none of us had souls, none of us reincarnated, none of us went anywhere but into the ground where the worms will pick away at our ugly corpses.
That's justice.

stupid motherfucking swine

2006-03-17T11:33:00.000-08:00

this one guy i know should die sometimes for the things he does. Or doesn't do. he thinks he knows everything about everyone, especially himself. he thinks this so much that he has said many things regarding himself. he sometimes proves himself wrong. when this happens, all i want to say to this guy is "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU THINK WOULD HAPPEN, DID YOU REALLY THINK YOU HAVE EARNED ANYTHING? DO YOU REALLY THINK ANY OF THE SHIT YOU'VE DONE MATTERS? IT DOESN'T, AND THE WAY YOU TREAT PEOPLE IS NOT THE WAY YOU TREAT YOURSELF. WHEN YOU START DOING THAT, PEOPLE START MOVING FARTHER AWAY! GO AHEAD AND ISOLATE YOURSELF THROUGH STUPIDITY, IT DOESN'T MATTER. IF YOU DESERVE TO LOSE CONTACT WITH EVERYONE YOU CARE ABOUT, THEN I HOPE IT HAPPENS."
This guy hasn't talked to any of his family members in quite a while. he hasn't talked to any of his friends. the only people he talks to are the ones who initiate a conversation with him. the only exception is his girlfriend, but i'm pretty sure she's going to get fed up. i think he deserves it, though. it would really be icing on the cake. in afghanistan he was going to kill himself, he even made this game for it and played it now and then. the only reason he didn't was because he wanted to see where things go with his girlfreind and he didn't want to hurt her. now whenever he hurts her he wants to go away so that it doesn't happen anymore. the stupid fuck. what a stupid motherfucker. he doesn't even realize how she feels about him. he's so insecure with himself right now that he doesn't feel right in his own skin. you can't really tell unless you watch him for a while. it's like he doesn't want to touch things. i know how he feels. he just feels like everything is slipping away. it's not a good feeling. doesn't he see that he has this awesome woman just wanting to make everything alright for him? i'm pretty sure she's going through a hard time too, though. too bad he's not helping any. i'm sure he's trying. i'm sure he's failing too, and that's probably why he's acting like that. what a stupid fuck.
I wish i could believe what i write. half of the time it's just expelled thought and it doesn't medicate at all.
maybe i'm making a point to myself. maybe it's not working because i need something from the outside to help me. i wish i didn't feel so incompetent. i don't help a damn thing and i know it. fucking worthless to her.

And now for the new me...

2006-03-17T00:20:00.000-08:00

Some pointless and irrelevant dribble.

I bought a Sony PSP and I don't play games on it. All I use it for is a storage system for good porn. I take it into the bathroom and jack off. I have a Sony PSP and the sole reason behind my ownership of this thing is to masturbate. I hear that there are some good games for it. I wouldn't know, though. I use mine to masturbate.

Grape gatorade is not very good. I prefer the other colors. The truth is, I like to pick them by color. "Today I want yellow." "Today I want pink." That is the system I use to pick gatorade. Some of them, such as the light blue one, taste like bullshit. I think it's sad that they can't make gatorade without so much sugar. It's really bad for your teeth, I'm assuming. Kids turn diabetic from drinking nothing but gatorade.

Chips in the vending machine cost 75 cents. Candy bars in the vending machine cost 75 cents. Everything in the vending machine costs 75 cents. I think this is a load of bullshit. Not all of it is equal in value or quantity. That means that somewhere, I'm paying more than I should for something in the damn machine. I've tried to break it, but not really. I've just kinda hit it hard a few times. Then I bought some chips and went back to my room.

I saw a frog outside and I was angry, so I ran over to it and stomped on it until it was dead, then I stomped on it a few more times just to make sure. Frogs are tough, you know. I played paddle ball with a frog tied to a broom once. I called it paddle frog. I played paddle frog.

I don't know why I'm writing any of this, but I guess any reason would be debatable. All I know is that I should go to sleep soon. In the morning I'm doing a boots/uts run with the Bn. No one knows what that means though. It means that I'm going to make myself sweat just a little bit, because when I sweat just a little bit everyone thinks that I have the ability to save their lives in combat. I guess that doesn't really clear anything up. I'd like to explain more, but I won't. Oh, sorry.

Firefox is a better web browser than Opera, but with Opera you can go into the cache folder and find all of the flash videos you've watched. I used to do that and move the flash videos into a different folder. Some people call it stealing, but I don't My computer stole it, and the devil, and not me.

I had a flash video about a milk man who got killed by some psycho. The psycho cut off his head and was chewing on his throat, then he sodomized the body. He was hitting the head with a hammer and such. Then the psycho started killing other people, defiling the milk man's body some more, and found a picture of the milk man's wife. So he went and killed her and sodomized her too. Then their son walked into the room and saw it, so the psycho killed the son as well. He didn't sodomize him. Instead, the psycho killed himself. Psychos in general don't always do what you'd expect them to do. When I saw this video I thought it was the most hilarious thing I'd ever seen. I still do, actually. I'm going to track it down and watch it now. It's by David Firth. He has a lot of great videos, like Panathinaikos Bear.

I miss you, Kate. I miss you and want you and need you and I love you for what you've done and seen and experienced, and how it all intertwines to make you so beautiful. Also, I love you because you're unbelievable in bed.

run away with it

2006-03-16T18:21:00.000-08:00

one two three GO.
nothing nothing nothing a huge gap in life that is life itself there's no reason i'm just killing time until i die or i'll kil you i'll kill your mind and that will e the end i know something bad will happen lets just wait this won't end no matter what happens how can it end if it's always been this way some things don't have a lifespan i don't know what the hell is wrong with me it's so much worse now oh my god just stuff it down choke it down gag and puke every other night so they don't get suspicious not even nash i will not show it they don't see me like in the song 3 3 3 7 3 3 10 7 3 3 3 7 3 3 10/7 8 3 3 7 8 3 3 7 8 fuck it cut it hear it twang dull pull of a string dull noise you feel inside when the string breaks dull feeling in your chest i'm strumming the same chord over and over and over and over just look at the floor and listen to nothing but the reverb inside turn it all the way up they hear me i don't care right now just go go go go go wait stop. all you want to do is get on with her and get on with your life you're both slowly dying now that you're separated again i know that i am i know that you are too if only there was a way i could swim maybe i could teach you i've gotten so far on this notion about life but i can't explain what pushes me any other way than saying "you" and it doesnt matter it doesn't matter because it won't make you feel the way i wish you could but i feel so cold my temperment is so cold nothing is real its just floating in front of me not even touching things physically feels the same i just want to feed this lust in my mind give it to me give me your thoughts give me everything that you have inside and i will eat it all and again i will say "what else?' feed me fill me up again this place is a prison i look outside and all i see are the bars in front of my face i am serving my time and waiting for that first cigarette again you are a ray of light which separates itself from all the rest and this is only for you i am only for you

I still wear chevrons and a uniform.

2006-03-16T17:25:00.000-08:00

I was searching on google. It's been a while since I've searched for her and I did a new one, amazed to find 225 results with her name in it. I say amazed because I've only found 3 different pictures on the internet, very unfortunate results for former internet stalking. Anyway...
Scrolling down, all I could see was her name in bold. I do this now and then. Just to remind myself how amazing she is and exactly how far she's gone. It makes me sad. It really makes me sad. I wish things could've worked back then. Or maybe in the future.

If that's what you want, I'll let you have it.
Even if the price is me knowing you. If that's what it could come down to, i'd let you go. I could still see you happy. I just wouldn't be there. I just want you to be happy and follow your dreams. I mean it when I say that I don't want you stressed and nervous and a wreck, but i also mean it when I say that you have something. You have it, and I can't take that away from you.
I just don't want to lose this little shiny thing I've obtained.
If it ever came/comes down to it, if I honestly think it's what you should do and you can't do it with me, I'm leaving.
I just hope you can't do it without me. I want you.

I am excess. I will kill you.

2006-03-16T10:44:00.000-08:00

It still comes back to this.
Life isn't perfect. Life is the absence of perfection.
People spend so much time trying to give themselves a reason to move forward. They waste so much energy trying to imagine why we're here. They falsify a god and give themselves a reason. There is no god. There is only the hope that there's something more. What happens when that hope fades away? Well, your life turns into nothing and you start seeing things you shouldn't think about seeing. Or you imagine them.
Either way, you walk into a room and the door closes behind you. When you realize that there is no purpose to life and that life is absolutely meaningless, you get really pissed off. Then you go through phases. These phases loop over each other and get progressively worse. Eventually, I would suppose, you kill yourself. I can't imagine why anyone would keep going unless they stopped thinking. I'm contemplating the validity of extreme materialism. It would be a good direction for me to head into.

frown because it's real

2006-03-16T09:19:00.000-08:00

i think living in a war zone has drained the appreciation for life out of me.
SMILE
when i stand outside and smoke, i don't look at the mountains or grass or smoke or buildings.
SMILE
i only talk when i have too.
SMILE
i lay in a bed looking up, not thinking about anything but a big black hole.
SMILE
i try to occupy the time with something, anything.
SMILE
i say i'm fine
SMILE
i say it's alright
SMILE
oh, i say, i'm great
SMILE
they're stupid cows
SMILE
moo
SMILE
moo kill moo
SMILE
move the herd of cattle
SMILE
we all look the same
SMILE
we all sound the same
SMILE
we all act the same
SMILE
we are the same
SMILE
there is no me or you, there is only the herd
SMILE
it's all a big charade
SMILE
none of it matters
SMILE
we all wear our happy little faces
SMILE
we all think we're tricking everyone else
SMILE
we all plaster on a fake fucking smile

2006-03-15T23:22:00.000-08:00

i am nothing. when i look out at everything i see a vast distance. when i talk, i'm talking through a pane of glass. everything that i touch is dead. it doesn't matter how much time passes by. there are a lot of things i want to say, but i don't mean any of it. there are a lot of things i want to do, but i don't need to do them. i DO need to do them.
i want to have my face pushed into the grass while the toes of boots are burrowing into my ribcage. i want to have my face slammed down over and over into the concrete.
there's something wrong when talking to my girlfriend does nothing for me.
there's seriously something wrong.

my current stance

2006-03-15T20:24:00.000-08:00

it's weird how every other person is stupid or pointless.
i can't figure it out.
that's good though, because if i could i don't think any of it would last.
Don't call it anything, that just cheapens it.
it's nothing.
it's just compatability.
amazing compatability. that means it's abnormal.
that means it's something that i must fight for. the minute it becomes irrationally placed emotion, it will end. it won't happen.
nothing matters in life and that's why this is so great.
it's great because it's totally out of place and special in the way that this is the only occurence i'll ever experience.
i don't call it anything.
it's nothing but an amazing instance in humanity.
you won't believe me, but that means it's better than any of the shit other people dream up because it's not dreamed up. it's real, like the trees and the blood in my veins is real.

Oh, I've been reading furiously again.

2006-03-15T16:50:00.000-08:00

"Once set in motion, the process of questioning could come to but one end, the erosion of conviction and certitude and collapse into despair"

It has been over a century now since Nietzsche explored nihilism and its implications for civilization. As he predicted, nihilism's impact on the culture and values of the 20th century has been pervasive, its apocalyptic tenor spawning a mood of gloom and a good deal of anxiety, anger, and terror. Interestingly, Nietzsche himself, a radical skeptic preoccupied with language, knowledge, and truth, anticipated many of the themes of postmodernity. It's helpful to note, then, that he believed we could--at a terrible price--eventually work through nihilism. If we survived the process of destroying all interpretations of the world, we could then perhaps discover the correct course for humankind:
I praise, I do not reproach, [nihilism's] arrival. I believe it is one of the greatest crises, a moment of the deepest self-reflection of humanity. Whether man recovers from it, whether he becomes master of this crisis, is a question of his strength. It is possible. . . . (Complete Works Vol. 13)

written today in a dental waiting room

2006-03-15T16:36:00.000-08:00

i'm just going to stay in my room.
there's no point in life and there's no reason.
it doesn't matter what we do.
the only thing we care about is ourselves, therefore we are all singular and cannot form anything productive as a whole.
our care is worthless.
we are all insignificant.
so are our surroundings.
nothing makes any difference, and i know that i shouldn't be here.
life is absurd.
these rules are useless.
there is no reasoning behind them.
my suffering doesn't matter, it's what i deserve.
life is so absurd.
no one ever asked for any of it but it was thrust upon us.
that is the pointlessness of life.

and?

2006-03-15T10:41:00.000-08:00

But it still changes nothing. Everything is still here and nothing makes any difference.

Nihil ex nihilo.
I don't care if there is a god or if we came from bacteria.
It doesn't change anything. We're here. We're nothing.
It's all futile and pointless existence which drives us insane, trying to create a reason for nothing.
So why live?
Why not. It doesn't matter.
Don't. It doesn't matter.
I'm curious as to what extent all of this has spread.
Maybe find something to do which has a meaning. I'm certain by now that there is none. I know the reason for life and the "meaning" of life.
Procreate and add to the fucked society you were born into.
None of us asked for this. We were just thrust into it.
It's futility.
Life is so void that existence is almost un-life.
Just a pointless web or words, weaving in and out to make an abstract piece of something, but there's still nothing in front of you.

My one wish would be to destroy all of it and let life start over again. Hopefully someday, someone else would get a wish.

12_darts_4

2006-03-14T00:08:00.000-08:00

For two whole days there were no soldiers on the road. I wasn't about to give up after all the work it took to bury the bomb. On the third day i saw soldiers driving five trucks on the road. All of them were four door, so i decided to blow up the middle truck. I waited for them to cross over my bomb. My hand was on the radio, just itching to press the 'talk' button. It seemed like an hour before the trucks even got CLOSE to the bomb, but they finally did. Carefully, i watched the first truck pass by. My whole body was shaking. I didn't know what to expect after i blew up one of their trucks. Then the second one drove by. It was very thrilling to do this. just watching these bastards. Soon enough, some of them would be dead. I knew this, but they didn't. The third truck was about to drive over the bomb and my finger twitched quickly, pressing the button hard. Instead of a truck flying through the air, all i saw was a big cloud issue forth from the earth. A split second later, i heard the large boom of the bomb. All the other trucks stopped and soldiers started running off the road. I watched all this unfold right before my eyes. It took three seconds for the cloud of dust and dirt to settle, and all that was left was a truck turned upside down. I could faintly make out a soldiers arm hanging out of one of the windows.
I did it. I killed a soldier. My father did not die in vain. Because he died, a soldier has died. That soldier will never do anything to my people, ever again. All the soldiers who got out of their trucks had turned into a big circle of small figures. Some of them gathered into a small group and stayed very still. The other soldiers kept looking back at the truck, and probably at their dead comrade. This whole situation was quite interesting, and since they couldn't see me, i decided to stay right there and see what they'd do next. I knew that some soldiers had sights on their guns so that they could see far away, but i was too far for them to see me. No one was shooting in any direction, anyway. A few minutes passed by with no further movement from the soldiers. Then in an instant i heard an ear piercing whistling sound. The next instant dirt and rocks were flying everywhere, kicked up by explosions all around me. I got up and ran over the ridgeline so that they could no longer see me, but then explosions started hitting the ground on the other sie of the ridge. I couldn't go forward or backward, so i decided to run to the east. The time for action was now, or i'd die at the hands of the soldiers. I saw some large rocks 15 feet away and dashed toward them. From there i could move farther east until i was safe. I figured that the explosions would subside after a few minutes, but the didn't. So i waited. I waited for 15 minutes. At the end of the longest 15 minutes of my life, there were soldiers. I opened my eyes and saw soldiers approaching my hiding place from the east. I kind of paniked. I had no idea what to do. In front of me were soldiers, behind me were explosions. Once again, the time for action was upon me. I ran down the ridgeline away from everything. Away from the bombs falling from the sky, away from the dead soldier, away from his trigger happy friends, away from my manhood and my bride and my village and everything i had known all my life. I ran away from it all. I thought i could leave it all behind and somehow i could get through this. How could i be so stupid as to kill a soldier? It wasn't their fault that my father died. It was the bandits. The soldiers held guns to our faces back in the village because they were trying to catch bandits. they were trying to avenge my dead father. They were trying to avenge all of the dead fathers my friends have told me about. How could i be so stupid? As this thought shot through my mind, a soldier's bullet shot through my chest. My whole body was racked with a hollow pain and the soldiers were getting close. I fell to the ground and gasped for air, but all i could feel was a warmth inside of my lungs. A warmth which brought pain. A soldier came so close that i could touch his boot, but instead, his boot touched my head. he stomped on my head and said something that i couldn't understand. He was screaming and tears were in his eyes, then he pointed his gun at my head and everything went black.

12_darts_3

2006-03-14T00:07:00.001-08:00

Before my father died, arrangements were being mad for my marriage. Several girls were among my choosing, but only one caught my attention. She was nice and was a good cook. Eventually the arrangements were made for us to be wed. Before a traditional wedding, the father deems his son a man. Because of the soldiers and their incompetent rules, my father was no longer alive. I had already come up with a new way to be deemed a man. I was going to kill a soldier. I wanted revenge to ring true. Bandits have always been here. Weapons have always protected us. The soldiers are a plague on our life, and they took our weapons but didn't take the bandits. In this way, i found refuge in the idea of killing a soldier to avenge my father and do some good for my people.
I had no way of getting a gun to shoot soldiers with. They were so good with their weapons and so well armored that it would be foolish of me to attempt it. Trading bullets with a soldier always meant that you caught more bullets than they did, and you would almost certainly catch them with your head. Instead, i opted to create a bomb and blow up soldiers while they travelled around my country. They did not deserve to travel our roads, anyway. The soldiers alway drove large, armored trucks with four doors. Some of them had two doors and a large metal frame in the back where extra soldiers would sit. All of them looked more like oversized cars than trucks. With all the armor they looked very wide and low to the ground. Most of the trucks they drove had large guns on top. Machineguns which were big enough to shoot down planes. After thinking about it, i decided that a bomb would be the best way to kill a soldier. I could put it on a road, wait for soldiers to drive by, then blow it up with some sort of radio. I'd heard rumors of jihaadists doing it with success. they weren't even caught. They just kept doing it until they died. I would only do it once, therefore i would not die.
It took about a week to put together my bomb. It was large enough to blow up a soldier's truck and probably kill all of the passengers. I bought a cheap set of handheld radios and wired them up so that i could "talk" to the radio on the bomb, and the bomb would blow up. I already had a good road to put it on. The soldiers drove on it a few ties every week. All i'd have to do is go out to the road, bury it, and go home for food. Gather enough food for a day, go out to the small mountain overlooking the road, then wait. So i did.

12_darts_2

2006-03-14T00:07:00.000-08:00

A cold September day that i will never forget...
In my village there have been instances such as this going on everywhere since the elections formed our country. Our history is that of war. If you want to survive, you buy a gun. Now, with the new government and their soldiers, if you're caught with a gun you get sent away to die. No one knows where you are, but you know where you are. You are tied up in a room, waiting for them to execute you. This is the new way.
...My father was driving me to his workplace. I am the only son, so it's up to me to carry on his business. We were riding to the next village with our large truck full of food and some bandits stopped us. They told us to pay all of our rupies or he'd kill us. My father whispered to me, "Go away muhamaad, run away right now." I looked at him and he looked back at me. I was in disbelief. I hadn't heard of this ever happening to our family. My friends at school would talk about it happening to them or people they knew, but i never thought it would happen to me. You know how that works. I didn't go anywhere. The bandits yelled and cursed at my father, then walked back to their vehicle. I went to the back of our cargo truck to climb in. Just as i grabbed the handle on the truck, i heard a rattle of gunfire and violent screaming. To my horror, my father had been shot by the bandits. I tried to run to him, but the bullets were punching holes in the truck and kicking up dirt all around my father. My poor father. He was laying on his side, his eyes looking out into the distance. He was alive while i was trying to run to him, but while i debated my own life in the face of the gunfire, he passed away. After the bandits had emptied their magazines, they drove off. I stood watching my father. My father's body lay lifeless in the dirt.
Months had passed by since then. I was furious. We reported the murder to the national police, but all that happened were the damn soldiers searching all my friend's houses. They wouldn't let anyone in or out of the village for three days. Every night they would come into the village and search our homes at gunpoint. Everynight they left, empty handed. They took the elder away with his hands bound behind his back. We were all so angry at them that we almost started an uprising against the soldiers. They weren't even from our country. They were outsiders. They came here just like the Russians. The Russians started taking over the country right away, these soldiers were just biding their time. We were biding our time.
When they did these things, searching us with guns in our faces, kidnapping our elders, there was nothing to be done. They had weapons all over them. They had body armor covering their whole body, even their eyes. Black sunglasses that stopped bullets and hid their deceitful eyes from our view. If you showed them a hint of refusal, they turned into fierce dogs, barking orders and violently pushing you and your family around with their gloved hands and their black guns. There was rumor that they had weapons on their weapons, things that would burn out your eyes, lights that only they could see at night, a tube that launched rockets, some even had ammunition strapped to their gun so that no matter what, they could always get to more ammunition to kill you with.
And as fast as they would appear in your village, one day they would be gone without a trace. They always came and left at night, just like wild dogs. They rummaged through our belongings, just like wild dogs. If you angered them they would cause you pain, just like wild dogs. They did not belong in our villages, just like wild dogs. These soldiers made us all vote for a government so that they could control everything, and we could do nothing. They took away our protection, and because of this, my father died on the side of a road. Just like a wild dog.

12_darts_1

2006-03-14T00:05:00.000-08:00

May i please remain in this space
for darts screech by my desires
may i please remain in this space
for darts screech by my desires
art thou not human
not human art thou
life threatening lifestyles
a hitman, a nun, lovers
life threatening lifestyles
a hitman, a nun, lovers
arise as did the gods ninti
arise as did the gods ninti
arise as did the gods ninti, and ishkur
clock men for they will fail
fear not the gods that come from the sky
long not for the ones who've lost their way
arise as did the gods ninti
arise as did the gods ninti
arise as did the gods ninti, and ishkur, ishkur.

Okay...

2006-03-13T08:56:00.000-08:00

Since when is a senior marine NOT expected to get drunk and do pointlessly destructive and idiotic things?
What the fuck happened here?!
I guess that in the past 3 1/2 years a lot has changed, so much so that the people who were here forgot what's going on.
I wrapped a towel around a bat and hit bottles at things. Yeah, I was drunk and I didn't/still don't care and that's actually quite tame compared to other things that have happened. When did this place get so fucking gay? Now I have to police call for an hour a day because some other fuck is a snitch!!?? FUCK you and FUCK your stupid bullshit and ignorant reasoning.
Hey ass, if people get so drunk that they do something you deem as retarded, maybe they're too drunk and you should get them help.
Hey ass, I'm just going to drink more now and do more stupid shit, but I'll do it indirectly and it will be directed towards your car.
How the fuck do they expect me not to do these things? I've been in this bullshit for close to four years now and it has just gotten worse and worse. The way it has been getting worse is through jack asses incorporating pointless control measures which all add up to pussifying our Corps. We may as well wear a fucking army uniform because honestly I don't think we rate our own anymore.
To top it off, all of the guys who should be winding down from this fucked lifestyle are now going to do the most intensive training of their career just because a fuckstick wants to experiment a little. HEY DICKWEED, I'D RATHER NOT DO YOUR POINTLESS FUCKING SHIT. ALL I WANT TO DO IS RELAX FOR ONCE SINCE I'M NOT DEPLOYABLE, BUT NOW YOU JACK ASSES ARE GOING AND TRYING TO PULL THIS BULLSHIT. WE DON'T NEED THIS, NOR SHOULD WE HAVE TO DEAL WITH IT.
They just try to milk us for everything we've got.
Every fucking drop.
Then once we're milked dry, THEN they'll let us go. But not until then. I've been through all of their bullshit and put up with all of the petty crap they shove down our throats, and now because I've been such a good little boy I'm getting raped. We're all getting raped. Held down and brutally raped. The more and more of this mockery I drink in, the more and more I'm reminded of how dead this place is to me.
It still just pisses me the fuck off that I'm being punished for something which was not only tolerable but ENCOURAGED in this society just a few years ago.
WHAT THE FUCK...!
Nice job you whores.
This is by far the dumbest shit I've ever witnessed.

Where is the content?

2006-03-12T23:29:00.000-08:00

It's right here.
For so long I've been waiting.
For so long, i've waited for the moment when things hit me in the face again.
all of you people
you people
humans.
the animals roam the earth, and man has dominion over all animals
who's better? the people
or the animals?
who lusts and wages war and is full of greed?
who pillages and rapes and sets fire to the homes of the poor?
who murders for ego and reproduces under the same intent?
who dances with the angels and demons in their dreams just so that they can justify atrocities?

You tell me.
People kill and eat things which are better than them, and then we call murderers monsters.
POINT YOUR FINGER
we breed murderers and scum and then we point the finger.
Who's fault is it?
They're our children.
THEY'RE OUR CHILDREN FOR FUCK SAKE.

They're the same as everyone else.
It resides in them and it resides in you too.
In my minds eye my thoughts set fire to your cities.
Just to make it all look pretty.

2006-03-12T19:02:00.000-08:00

It's really hard to do this.
The long distance relationship thing, I mean. I want to show my girlfriend so much, and when something's wrong I want to be able to look her in the eyes and tell her (honestly) that everything will be ok. Can I do that?

No.
The fucking phone conversations are killing me.
There's so much that I want to say, but over the phone it gets all fucked up in the physical absence. To top it off, I know that I'm not cutting it. Lately it just feels like we talk about stupid shit when we should be talking about something, ANYTHING that makes a difference or hashes something out.
But there isn't anything to talk about.
We have to talk anyway. I have to hear her voice just to reassure myself in the whole "you're not alone" thing I'm going through.
The fucking phone is killing me.
What is there that I can do?
What can I do?
Nothing.
All I can do is wait and listen to the squeaky noise this razor-of-a-second makes as it slides through my skin. When that happens, the second gets cut into two full seconds, so now I have to wait twice as long.
Well, that's what it feels like.

The fucking phone is killing me.

Every day is exactly the same.

2006-03-11T21:31:00.000-08:00

Sitting in a chair, he looks like he's thinking...
He's not looking at anything. Strewn around him are empty beer bottles and hollow cans of iced cappuccino.
His hand rests on a computer mouse.
His computer mouse rests on a Marine Corps mouse pad.
You can't tell because the whole mouse pad is covered in scribbles and gibberish.
On the wall hangs a certificate thanking him for his service as a wartime Marine.
Crumpled up in a ball on the floor, there lies another certificate. In his closet there are a few more certificates. Ribbons. Badges.
Uniforms with perfect creases.
Shooting gloves that smell like dirt and sweat, musty the way you imagine a knight's ancient armor should smell.
There's also the sling of a rifle.

He's standing up now.
His boots are placed neatly outside of his door. He walks over to the doorway and pauses. He doesn't move.
He walks back to his chair and takes a seat.
Sitting in a chair, he looks like he's thinking...

RE-COVER...MOVE!

2006-03-11T16:37:00.000-08:00

Nothing we can do will ever really matter. Here is what we have:
The need to eat and drink.
The need for companionship and sharing.
The need to reproduce.
That
is
all.

There's nothing else out there.
Nothing
will ever matter.

Nothing's going to change my world.
There's nothing you or I can ever do about that.
It's ok.
*give me reasurrance*
Everything will be alright.
*make me feel like I'm special*
At least I realize all of the futility.
*help me keep pushing*
I'm so tired.
*help me push further*
I'm just so tired of it all.
It's draining.
*fucking help me please, I'm drowning*
The volume was turned down this morning when I woke up
AND I DON'T CARE IF IT ALL ENDS RIGHT NOW
as long as I'm not awake, it doesn't matter.
If things don't go the way I want them to, then I can just gather my courage and force myself to sleep.
That's my way out.
Jesus, what happened to me?
Not in the war, but in the past few years. I've just dwindled down to nothing.

So...

2006-03-11T14:38:00.000-08:00

Last night I got that much closer to hitting the bottom.
Pat me on the back. I'm on my way to being free.

look around you, just take a look at what surrounds you

2006-03-10T21:51:00.002-08:00

Abive my laptop sits a 7.62 projectile from Afghanistan. It's the one that went through a kevlar helmet. It's my reminder that in a perfect world, I would be dead. A world where nothing is perfect and everything is just as it should be. That should have gone through my helmet. It should've, but it didn't. Higher than that, there's a little figure of a marine aiming a rifle at nothing in particular. Tonight, I will take that tiny marine off of his perch and smash him over and over with a bat.
Tonight I will get rid of one more thing that holds me back.

look around you, just take a look at what surrounds you

2006-03-10T21:51:00.001-08:00

look around you, just take a look at what surrounds you

2006-03-10T21:51:00.000-08:00

2006-03-09T11:25:00.000-08:00

It's funny how when you grow up, you only want one dream.
You have that one dream that you want to realize someday. Then you look back and see that it wasn't what you really wanted. Or you get to live that dream and find out that it wasn't the magical thing you thought it would be. Then the volume on everything gets turned down. Way down.
Things don't matter as much.
Nothing can raally live up to you standards. The flare just vanishes
like smoke.

That's why I don't want it for you.
I hope you never gain that happiness because it only lasts for a little while, and after that, you still have the rest of your life to live.

Someday...

2006-03-08T23:54:00.000-08:00

You'll wake up, and you'll look back on all of these days.
You'll wake up and look in the mirror. You'll see how everything has past you by. All of those things you'll wish you had done, and all of those things you wish had never happened. You'll wake up someday and see the results of all of this wear. All of the wear and tear of the world will manifest all at once, and on that day you'll look at your reflection. What thought will flash by your eyes?
"Tell me you didn't...Tell me you didn't do it...Please tell me you didn't do it..."
Someday all of this nonsense will fade away and be a lonely memory of how you were, there. You were there and you were alone. You were there, alone, and you made it through.
Someday you will see how everything has faded, been reborn, and faded once again. You'll realize how none of it matters. It's all a cycle. How you use your cycle, that's all that matters. Will that thought be a thought of regret, or will it be a thought of pride? You won't know until that day.
Someday all of this will fade away and all that will be left is you.
Hollow and alone, all that will be left is you.
Till death do us part.
All that will be left is you.
I know that you're with me, no matter what happens.
Life is short. One day I'll wake up and see that all of those dreams and everything I've wished for is gone. I'll look back and smile, because when I thought I was alone, I know that you were with me. No matter what, I've had someone who's there for me. I'll never forget that.
All of those times I thought I would die.
All of those times I thought I would never look into your eyes again. Those times when the world was crumbling as fast as a hurricane. Those times I would think of you.
You've been there for me through all of those times.
I'll never forget that.
When I look into the mirror, my reflection will be a smile.
I can't thank you enough.
I hope that you see the same thing when you see your reflection years from now,
because you're the only one who can understand.

I thought that they would understand. Of all people. I thought that they would understand. My father wasn't proud, he was ashamed. I had shamed him with my choice. You told me that I was brave. You told me that I was strong. Because of that, I was brave and strong. I hope that someday you can say the same thing about me. I am brave and strong and fearless and full of courage,

but only because of you.

Over and over again, never forget that.
You are brave and strong and full of courage.
Never forget that.

I won't.

Step away from the window...

2006-03-08T10:44:00.000-08:00

Of course I want her to be happy, but if they say "yes" and she does this, it's going to be uphill for her. I'll listen to her and help her out etc. regardless, but I don't want her to struggle. I'd rather her go to school, have fun and be slightly stressed, but learn and be proud of herself. If these guys say "Nah, not what we wanted." then she'll feel like shit because I know she'll single something out and beat herself up. This is something she has to do though. I just wish she didn't have to do it. Either way, it's her choice and I'm behind her on it.
Damnit.
I just wish she'd choose the safer route instead. to
What is it with us, always picking the road less travelled? Why do we always have to do that?
At least it's more unique this way.

I'll be anxiously awaiting your return, and whatever you throw at me, I'll catch it, throw it to the ground, and stomp on it.
Then it'll be dead.
Then you can go back to sleep.

Afterwards...

2006-03-06T23:36:00.000-08:00

I walk out of my room with a pack of cigarettes and an open bottle of beer.
Outside I see a sea of cars in a parking lot. Past the personal vehicles are the lights of barracks windows more distant than mine. Past that, nothing. Nothing but black. I open up the small crumpled pack of cigarettes and sneak a peak inside. I only have nine left. With my fingertips I gently slide one out by the filter and set it lightly between my lips. I look to the left, look to the right, then look to the front. No one's around right now. Everyone's gone doing their own thing.
The street lights project dirty yellow-orange and misshapen ovals on all of the hoods of the cars in the lot. As vehicles drive by, the cumulative shadow of the lot full of cars crosses my face like the second hand on a clock.
It's funny how, at moments like this, most people are just waiting.
We're all waiting.
We're all waiting for nothing.
There's nothing.
All that matters is how you kill the time.

I raise a lighter to the tip of the cigarette between my lips. My thumb grinds the toothed, steel wheel against the small piece of flint inside the lighter.
Once, twice, three times. Flame appears and I inhale.
We're all waiting.
We're all waiting for nothing.
All that matters is how you kill the time.

I inhale thick smoke, so thick it burns as it travels down my throat and into the chasm of my lungs. I'm alright.
I'm killing time.

needles under the nail

2006-03-04T17:07:00.000-08:00

I am containing myself.
I always feel such an intense anger toward everyone now.
Watching a video of Sys of a down performing ATWA live, seeing those stupid faces in the crowd looking all sad.
It makes me so angry. There's nothing in the room that i can break without getting into deep shit. Two nights ago i was throwing chairs. Ten minutes ago i was kicking the cement wall. My leg hurts.
You know that feeling you get when someone says "I know what you mean. One time i was singing in church and i messed up. I was horified!"
That's the feeling i get constantly, and i'm so angry.
It's a struggle just to keep from snapping. Everywhere. All of the time.
I want to stomp everyone until i hear a wet choke.

It's so hopeless.

"don't talk to me about this. it's a lie."

2006-03-03T18:39:00.000-08:00

While on leave i kept reading more and more about people treating each other like shit. A guy broke into his girlfriend's house and beat her in front of her two children. An old man was hospitalized by young men. Another incident of spousal abuse where the man and woman were punching each other in the face and the cops had to break it up. A woman shook her baby to death. The woman was only 17.
These people should die. If I could, I would move to a little shit town where this happens a lot, and i would track them down and murder them. Someone needs to do it. These people don't need a lesson. The people around them need a savior. Everyone loves jesus. What if jesus was performing the miracle of killing the scum of society? My good friend spent a lot of time as a strong arm. He made money by collecting money from filthy addicts who didn't sell their drugs and didn't have the drugs anymore. They used it all up. Oh well. So my friend would scope an area out, get his gear, and go "collect." Every time it gets violent. He has to make his point. "Money or your finger." Sometimes he cuts off a finger. He asked me if i want to help him out sometime and i thought about it for two seconds. "Yes." He's like a superhero, wiping out the bad guys. These articles i was reading in the new york papers, they got me thinking. Someone should stop these bad guys. Someone should play the superhero bit. The big jesus thing.
I thought about it long and hard.
During leave i visited texas and oklahoma as well.
While coming back from oklahoma i was thinking about what my good friend had said.
"These people are just filth. You stop caring after a while."
Driving back to dallas from oklahoma, some guy tried to speed past me. Being an asshole, i slowed down next to a large truck. He couldn't get past. Finally he got past me, but we were on a rather long and desolate road. I followed him for a few hundred miles before he tried to ditch me. He got off on the access road. I saw him turn right, so i thought, "what the hell. this guy deserves to get fucked up." I got off at the next exit and doubled back. A few miles down that road i saw him leaning up against his car on the side of the road, talking on the phone. I have no clue who he was calling, but chances are that he was trying to call in my rental vehicle liscence plate number. I parked behind him and he looked very angry. I got out of the car with my hands in my pockets. He started yelling at me as i approached. When i got close enough, i pulled my left hand out. Then my right. He took a defensive stance and i swung hard. Straight into his face. One shot, one kill. He immediately collapsed to the ground and held his hands over his face. After a moment or two there was a shitload of blood coming out of his cheekbone. I looked at him, then i looked down at my fist. The brass knuckles didn't have any blood on them, but they sure looked like they may have collapsed the flat area under his eye. Maybe the eye socket. He started moaning and shit, so i took his ID from his wallet and left him there on the ground. I went back to my car, turned the radio back on and got back onto the highway. My friend was right. I also felt much better about the future. The further i drove the more i realized that the guy i hit with the brass knuckles was really, really far away from any rest station, let alone a hostpital to put his face together. He was bleeding a lot, but i'm sure it clotted up after a while. I really don't care. He could be dead, and i really don't give a shit. I should have killed him. No one would ever know. He looked like daddy's little college boy. I'm going to go a little farther next time. I need to find out who around here deals crystal meth.

the calm before

2006-03-02T18:30:00.000-08:00

I'm looking for some angry inspiration. It's the urge of the day.
-go outside and smoke a cigarette.
-listen to some background music.
-listen to something which will stir your emotions and tug you around.
-listen to Across the Universe. No. Take it back. Listen to Man That You Fear.
-Now smoke the cigarette.
-type.

Okay, at the moment this is aimed toward no one in particular.
I lied...yes it is.

You think i'm a bird with a broken wing all of a sudden. Well i always have been. I've always been a little crazy and i've always been depressed by my surroundings due to discontent. Honestly, i don't know if that will ever really resurface now because i know what the other side is like. I did my job. I changed things. I know what it's like to change lives. I know what it's like to stand in front of people and have them clap and cry because you've inspired them with your actions. I know what it's like to KNOW that you matter. Now it's gone and i'll never get it back. i did my big martyrdom thing. i did my big dead jesus thing. now all i have is downhill. my time is up. at age 22 the meaning of my life has peaked and now nothing really matters. there are still consequences to all actions and i have a beautiful and intelligent girlfriend to keep, but other than that nothing matters. my limits have been set and i feel useless as a human being. hey kate, a crowd of people cheering for you because you gave them all that tingly feeling? fuck that. that makes you the center of their imagination and i don't like it. not that there's anything wrong with it, but it's not my forte to gain any direct attention. there is no hope after death. there is no reason. this is true. i give myself a point and that's to do the things which others fail to do. i guess i like the martyr thing minus the part where i feel like shit. i like giving myself up for others. i have the people cheering for me because i made them feel tingly. i have people who cheer for me because i am stronger than them. i have people cheering for me because i have proven myself in the highest possible manner as a hero. i don't care. all that matters to me is that i changed something. hey mom, you think you know how your son sees the world and perceives life, but you have no idea. i'm decades ahead of what you assume. now there is nothing left.
i was born into this, everything turns to shit. text book case of a combat marine.
"This is what we've waited for, THIS IS IT boys, this is war."
it's what every infantry marine dreams of. it's what every infantry marine hopes for. they never stop to think about the next step. everything is a landslide and i can't stop it until i go through college, get a degree in psychology and begin a practice. only then can i sit down, listen and direct, and take someone else's bullet to help someone out.
"I couldn't take listening all day to kids talk about their parents molesting them"
well, someone has to do it.
"I can't see myself just listening to people cry. it would tear me apart."
well, someone has to do it. i already know that i can.
the next entry will be the anger. this one was just more pointless banter.

post stress reactions

2006-02-28T16:43:00.000-08:00

Here's a list.
[PHYSICAL]
Fatigue, vomiting or nausea, chest pain, twitches, thirst, weakness, insomnia or nightmares, breathing difficulty, muscle tremors, grinding of teeth, pfofuse sweating, pounding heart, diarrhea or intestinal upsets, headaches
[BEHAVIORAL]
Withdrawal, pacing and restlessness, emotional outbursts, anti-social acts, suspicion and paranoia, inability to rest, loss of interest in hobbies, increased alcohol consumption, other substance abuse
[EMOTIONAL]
anxiety or panic, guilt, fear, denial, irritability, depression, intense anger, agitation, apprehension

These are common signs and symptoms of prolonged combat stress. I've been struggling with myself over feeling the effects of all behavioral and emotional effects listed.
"What the fuck is wrong with you pardue, you're not in afghanistan you jack ass. What the fuck is wrong with you?!" And so on.
So, today I attended a little class about winding down after being in a combat environment for a prolonged period. It really eased my mind. Now it's more like, "What the fuck pardue, you'll get over it after a while."
Now i know that the things that keep popping up in my head ARE normal for someone in my position and they are frequenting many Marine's minds. At least I know i'm not crazy. After a while all of the things that trigger memories/emotions that i had to stifle for eight months, they'll all come out and i can now safely deal with them and therefore stop pushing things under. On leave i had a few breakdowns, one of them were pretty extreme, but that was one of those intense anger/don't want to remember/anti-social things. I think that's done with for now. Another time i was trying to think everything through and my girlfriend thought that i was upset because i've done something horrible. I haven't done anything horrible. There's nothing i've done that i'm ashamed of. I didn't even kill anyone. There's just a lot of stress that has built up over time and it's hard to keep it all from coming out at once. I felt a little remorse over not explaining everything to her, but then again, i would've felt worse if she selflessly tried to relate for me, knowing that nothing compares to some extremes which we've (my friends) walked through. I mean, we burned the fat from our souls. Almost litterally. Over time everything will be ok. It may take quite a bit of time to see or hear or smell enough to drag up all the shitty memories and emotions, but it will eventually happen. I'm glad. Right now, i'm relieved and glad. I'm just tired of having the split second thoughts pop up and having to remind myself that "No, that guy does NOT have an AK," and "No, that smell is NOT urine from a 'piss tube.'" God, stale urine is fucking rank. That is all for now. I really appreciate my girlfriend sitting through my little outbursts and retractions. I really felt safe being around her.
The end.

blog abuse

2006-02-02T22:11:00.000-08:00

i post a few times each day now. i feel a bunch of shit and i want to get it out of me. it's not negative or positive, it's just an urge to release something. anything. i just want to give it away. i don't care what it is. i want to give it away. toss it out. throw it out into the cold night air, watch it drop off into the ocean. feel the plummet as it falls into the darkness and is engulfed by the waves. the calm roar is all you ever hear. you never even see it hit that elemental line. All you see is a quick fade into the darkness, then nothing. nothing but black with the ghosts of ocean caps below. the smell of the salt. the cool precipitated breeze.
then nothing.

tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock

2006-02-02T20:38:00.000-08:00

Sometimes i feel like i'm falling down a hole.
It's like i see everything rushing by. Past my body and far, far out of reach.
Time here is a waste. Every minute is wasted. Every second is one i will never put to use. Four years are passing by. There are plenty more to go. I know that i have a future because i will create it. Nothing happens unless you mold it yourself. I have to wait though. Waiting...waiting...waiting...
I'm waiting to go home right now. I want to go to sleep, but i don't because the moment i wake up i will be going outside and getting ready for a run. I won't go straight into the run, i'll wait around for 45 minutes in a skin tight green t-shirt and itty bitty green shorts which my penis would poke out of if there were no liner inside of it. I'll also be wearing running socks and running shoes. That's it. It will be cold, i will be miserable, and i will have to wait for 45 minutes before the run begins. I don't want to go to sleep because the moment i wake up i will be waiting again. then we'll run. it will be a long run and it will suck. after the run we will have our rooms inspected. we will then wait around until 12pm. at twelve we will be given our leave papers. we'll all change into civilian attire. i'll pack up all of my things. i will wait some more. at least then the wait won't be so bad. i'll just drink to pass the time, or sit around doing nothing. i'll talk to someone on the phone. i'll pace back and forth. at six i will get a cab with a room mate down to the airport, where i will commence with waiting once again. time passing with no chance of regaining the productivity i have lost the opportunity to utilize. it's how you pass the time. i do not have much time, i want to use the precious minutes i have left. a minute has passed since the first sentence of this entry. that minute is gone forever. that's one more minute that has slipped through my fingers. all i want to do is fast forward to the point where i get off the plane in new york. then i can think and study before being picked up by someone who'll take me to see the person i'm doing all of this waiting for. then time will not be a waste. but it will pass quickly and time will become a constant struggle, something i will want to put to use every second of the day, but it won't happen. i can't make up for eight months in a two and a half week time frame. wait.
hold on for a second.

"Listen you stupid bitch"

2006-02-02T01:19:00.000-08:00

You say that you wish you could make me feel a little bit more.
You have this ability. You're the one who makes me want to push my words a little bit more. Makes me want to convey a little bit more. I struggle to explain the way i feel while you seem to do it with relative ease. The simplest things you say make me swim. The most insignificant thing means nothing in most cases, but when you say them they hold so much meaning that i can't contain myself. that's why i use abstracts. that's why it always looks like an attempt. because that's the only way i can keep up. it's the only way i can show you how you make me feel. it's not a natural thing. you MAKE me feel this way. it's a forced emotion. you force it upon me. not something i'm used to. i am not used to feeling like i care. i'm not used to feeling like anything matters in the world, much less myself in anyone's eyes. you accept me for who and what i am, for that i can't ever repay you. there is no way that i can force you to feel this way with the simplicity in which you stir it up in me. i feel slightly inadequate and dissappointed at times because i feel as if i should be able to force smiles upon you the way you force them upon me. but maybe i can. sometimes i don't want to feel like everything's ok, or like i care about someone, or like the world should not end, or like the future is something i really do want to see someday. today i heard your voice for no more than five minutes and everything i was dealing with just faded away. hearing your voice is such a comfort that i don't give a shit if we're talking about the most stupid, asinine topic, as long as your voice is there. i want so much to be by your side at this moment. even if you didn't know i was there. i'm so curious about everything that has anything to do with you. if only i could just stand in the background. dissipate into the air and follow you around, even watching you from a vast distance. i want to observe the way you move, your facial expressions, what you do during the experience of every single emotion. so many times i wished that i could just look through the keyhole and spy on your daily life. just to see you. just to see your face and watch you handle things with your hands. observe the bounce in your step, measure the sway of your shoulders as you walk, just watch you live. every little thing. i would die just to live inside of your head. just to experience every moment of life through your mind. perceive things exactly as you do. you move me to see and do so many things which have nothing to do with either one of us. knowing you has changed me in very small ways, but it has changed me. it has changed my outlook in very small ways, but it has changed my outlook. knowing you is enough. everything deeper is just that much more which makes me want to be alive. every little thing you do makes me want to live. every little thing makes me want to live with you. every time i thought i was going to die, i imagined waking up next to you and the prospect of seeing that heavenly contentment was enough to make want to push through anything. you're everything i want. you are the only thing i want, without you i have no ambition.
you're my ambition and without that key to push me forward i am completely lost.
this is a horrible place to live in alone.

Imagine.

2006-02-01T18:54:00.001-08:00

Looking out over the waste of cement and metal, flames melt everything. Black shadows are thrown everywhere. Sharp tips lick at the sky. Smoke unfolds up and out into the sky. From the side of the mountain I smile with glee. Something once beautiful is now a wreck. People cry over these disasters. Why I don't know. These instances in which everything you pour your hope and wellfare into just crumbles into a heap. When everything collapses and you have nothing left. People cry over this. This is the future of everyone's life. At some time the village will burn. At some time the building will fall. At some time you will die. It's ok. It's just the future. Be ready for it, because it comes like fire. A moment is all you can expect out of anything. After that, it's all downhill.

Yadot.

2006-02-01T18:54:00.000-08:00

Purpose

2006-01-29T15:10:00.000-08:00

The purpose of this blog originally was to expand my creative style through writing and critique. That has ben accomplished. Now the purpose has shifted. This is my safe haven. It's my vault. My hole. My locked bathroom. It's safe. Here I can vent my emotions (which seem to pour out of me yet suck up into my marrow) all at once. No more art. Since I've been back I have abandoned the notion of artistic resolution or imagination. Fuck it. This is my mind. Here is where I can lose control. This dream is my world.

So it came to pass that after the seven years...

2006-01-29T11:24:00.000-08:00

The gears were in motion
BLOCK
elements had been tampered with
BLOCK
it must follow through completely until the gears come to a stop.
BLOCK
and now everything must run its full course, no matter what the outcome.

imagine

2006-01-29T10:54:00.000-08:00

I wasn't afraid of death before, but now i think that i am.
Thanks a lot.
This is fucking bullshit.
Now that i'm safe i don't want to die. Why? because of this woman i know, because i don't want her to wander around without me. isn't that fucking stupid? yes. but i do it anyway. a lot of things in life are stupid, such as existence. but they still occure. i wish i didn't think so much about things. the only image in my head is a lioness watching her cubs while the lion hunts for their food. laying peacefully under a tree. the only visible movement is the soft movement of the little cubs. fuck this. fuck it all. i don't know what the hell i'm doing, i know what i want but i don't know exactly how to get it. i don't even know if i should have what i want. there's more to life than selfish needs. there's a whole lot more. the only thing that pops into my head at that point is the image of the lion family. the cubs playing, the lioness watching, the shade of a tree, the lion hunting elk. that's all. i remember this feeling i'd get on the beach with kris when we'd hunt crabs with those damn sandy sticks. a feeling like we were attatched to something. like we were doing something natural in a completely unnatural world. cutting through the materials and finding the vines, the dirt, the mud, the nature. the nature of things. i just want to be a part of the natural cycle, far away from all of this preplanned corporate bullshit. society is an organism. it has mutated over time. i want to be a part of the first mutation, not this one. i want to be far away from this horrible disease. as far away as possible. as far as my feet will take me.

The pills.

2006-01-29T09:20:00.000-08:00

Substance abuse.
Why do we do it? What's the point of altering reality? Everything comes back to us after a while. Shit gets fucked up. Shit gets fucked up. Shit gets fucked up. Shit gets fucked up. Shit gets fucked up. I don't want to fuck anything up anymore. But I still go back to...

recently sent e-mail

2006-01-29T02:54:00.000-08:00

"funny little fact:
When i'm with kate, it feels like some epic struggle is finished and everything is in place."

That's because an epic struggle IS over and everything IS in place.
Now i just need to REALIZE it.

look.

2006-01-28T20:32:00.000-08:00

How quaint our tiny lives are. Tiny little things.
Tiny, neat, orderly little things. Everything must be perfect?
No.
Perfection is bullshit.
Nothing is perfect in the "Straight lines no jagged edges" sense. Everything is a little rough around the edges. Or the edge isn't an infinite curve. Obtuse to acute angles, things shift and change and nothing is static. Nothing is perfect.
When i pick out little rocks, I don't get the smooth ones. The smooth ones which are a perfect sphere. I choose the odd ones. The imperfect ones. I pick the odd ones because they (to me singularly) are perfect. Rotating wildly among lights and rays, frantic flails. Save yourself. Talk. Speak. Acknowledge. I don't know what you're saying. Kill yourself to make everybody pay.
I don't know how to end this, so...
*BANG*

shit

2006-01-27T23:40:00.000-08:00

once when i was young
they took this animal and tied his hind legs up with wire.
i remember this and i remember how i was just kinda standing there. frozen. it was in the woods and everybody knew no one would ever hear any of this. after they tied his hind legs with the wire they started hitting the animal with bats. they were hitting it over and over and over again. i knew that saying something wouldn't make them stop. it would just increase the chances that i'd be strung up by wire and beaten to death. dull thuds. then i tried to run away. they caught me. they wired me up just like the little furry dog. they said they would kill me but i knew they wouldn't. i didn't know they wouldn't. i hoped they wouldn't. one kid had a huge fat face with red around the socket of his eye. it looked like someone took a crayon and tried to shadow his face for him. his face was the only one i could see. he was shouting this and that. a bunch of shit. then they left. my arms and legs were all wired up and they left. i was just laying there. i remember what he said.
Wait...oh yeah, none of that ever happened. Ha

exerp

2006-01-27T23:37:00.001-08:00

unfold the pages. this is a way to keep a track record of my past. this diary is a way for me to chain my thoughts to a difinitive time in space. i'm writing this to remind myself that i am a monster. i am writing this to remind myself...
...that I'm the one who killed Ernest Hemingway.

People

2006-01-27T19:03:00.000-08:00

Everyone is normal.
Nothing is out of the ordinary.
All people have the same general qualities. The only way to find anything unique is to find something that's messed up. Injured. Or had a unique experience. Outside of these things everyone is the same. I have a problem holding a conversation with people who honestly believe they are different because they believe in something. "I know god personally." "The universe has all of these little things no one has ever thought of before, but check this out..." "I know that there are people who say this and that, but I don't."
They don't get it. They don't fucking matter. Their opinions don't fucking matter. All they're doing is recycling the shit they've read or heard.
None of it matters. Life is so fucking pointless. There's nothing to do. I've always said it and I will continue to say it:
We used to struggle just to stay alive. To prevent death. Now we struggle to prevent emotional pain.
How fucking worthless we have become...we try so hard to prevent a pang of disinterest in people we don't even know. Why?
Why?
We struggle so hard to get these big expensive things we don't (by any means) need. We destroy our own lives just to reach these pointless fucking materialistic goals. A new car. A big house. Cable TV. New video games. A large DVD collection. Nice hair. Designer clothes. Perfect white tennis shoes and shiny black Dr. Martins, or the most expensive fucking Gucci bag even though it's hideous without it's shiny little framed logo. No one needs this shit. No one. It's an extension of our need to struggle to obtain "something." Faith. Hope. Worthless.
Look around you and see what you have. You need no more.
No, you need more. You need more and more and more. You always need more.
Good job. Now you have the perfect body and that perfect hair. Now you have all the little accessories to go with your outfits. Now you look just like everyone else. What is the point? A nice life? That's laughable.
You think you're so special because you believe you're connecting dots.
Even if you connect the dots and form a picture...what then?
Ask me and I'll tell you.
"What then?"
Absolutely nothing.

Drift

2006-01-23T01:25:00.000-08:00

Anger
Anger
Anger

You can't understand. Nothing competes.
Nothing computes.
You can't sympathize if you don't understand.
You can't understand unless you were there.
I'm worthless and impotent.
The damage is done.

No worries.
No regrets.
No thought.

With love from Afghanistan...

2006-01-22T03:26:00.000-08:00

Here's an old school writing experiment I did in Afghanistan.

there is nothing we can do to escape
NOTHING WILL SAVE YOU FROM YOUR
PREDETERMINED CELL THEY ARE
BLIND EYES SEWN SHUT FINGERS
BLEEDING FROM THE WORN
DOWN QUICK THE WALLS WILL
NEVER CRUMBLE THEY WILL
ONLY STAIN DARK ORANGE
FLECKS OF BLACK SIGNS
OF NOTHING AN ATTEMPT
AT PERSONAL SALVATION YOU
WILL NEVER ACHIEVE BECAUSE
YOU LAID THE BRICK YOU GOT
INDUSTRIAL STRENGTH MORTER
AND AFTER ALL MANKIND HAS
EVOLVED ENOUGH TO MAKE
ANYTHING INESCAPABLE ANYTHING
MICROWAVABLE ANYTHING TO
KEEP US SAFE AND CUSHIONED
FROM THE THOUGHTS IN YOUR
HEAD KEEP YOU AWAKE AT
NIGHT AND THAT THERE IS
NOTHING LEFT BUT THIS IS
THE STATE OF THINGS THIS
IS LIFE AS I DREAMED IT
AND THERE IS NOTHING LEFT.

I feel...soft.

2006-01-22T00:51:00.000-08:00

Hands float gingerly over the keys in this little play.
Feed me, fill me up again. Steal the words of life from another mouth,
but only for today. I have seen things, I have seen things which were both terrible and majestic. Right now I choose the floating lights. The valley littered with people raking their crops, tier by tier. Childrens voices that make you inadvertantly smile. There's so much life in them. The hollow feeling in your mouth now. It's a product. We were on to something for that one moment. For one moment, everything was perfect. Everything was beautiful.
Fog floats gingerly over the mountains in this little play.
Feed me, fill me up again...