My thoughts on victimless, simulated child pornography.
My thoughts on the billion-dollar drug war.
(And not just because of my lolicon tendencies or my desire to try drugs, I'd like to think.)
Friday, January 29, 2010
Sports
My brilliant friends have, perhaps, invented the first, the second, and the only existential ball games in the entirety of this little island-nation Taiwan.
The games--as follows:
The first goes by the name of Insanity Ball.
The rule goes: "You must have a ball."
This ball, then, represents life.
With the ball, one can do absolutely anything, but when the ball is gone, the game is over.
The second, invented just yesterday, is Ball Ball.
Ball Ball is a variation of baseball, played on the school plaza with two teams of two.
Among the rules is this: "You can use anything but a ball." The absent meaning in any individual's life, then, is replaced by whatever they choose to be meaningful.
The players then continue the game as a baseball game would continue, but among the rules: "At the end of the game, the two teams of two players choose a separate side of the coin and flip it. The team who guessed correctly wins the game." The game, alas, shall end with the hand of chance choosing the winner and loser, and all previous efforts at meaning ultimately are reduced to naught. But the game itself, as you played, it had meaning.
The games--as follows:
The first goes by the name of Insanity Ball.
The rule goes: "You must have a ball."
This ball, then, represents life.
With the ball, one can do absolutely anything, but when the ball is gone, the game is over.
The second, invented just yesterday, is Ball Ball.
Ball Ball is a variation of baseball, played on the school plaza with two teams of two.
Among the rules is this: "You can use anything but a ball." The absent meaning in any individual's life, then, is replaced by whatever they choose to be meaningful.
The players then continue the game as a baseball game would continue, but among the rules: "At the end of the game, the two teams of two players choose a separate side of the coin and flip it. The team who guessed correctly wins the game." The game, alas, shall end with the hand of chance choosing the winner and loser, and all previous efforts at meaning ultimately are reduced to naught. But the game itself, as you played, it had meaning.
Pac Man shirt
I don't feel much affection for him, and most recently, he's come across as horrible and mean and narcissistic to me, but in the morning, when I put on a pac-man shirt, I thought perhaps he'd say it looks good.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Bananafish
Salinger, you were disillusioned--that was all!
It was all this black hole existence!, this absent God!, this grand, ringless, carousel!
“O LORD, you deceived me, and I was deceived! You overpowered me and prevailed!”
But even still, how you fought them, these 91 years!
And now, have you given up? And did you ever find what brass ring you were looking for, in the end? And your soul--did it outlast?
And your dreams, Salinger!, your nightnames--your corpus callosum, medulla oblongata--your synapses, the millions of synapses, the tangled sargasso synapses--did they ever?
It was all this black hole existence!, this absent God!, this grand, ringless, carousel!
“O LORD, you deceived me, and I was deceived! You overpowered me and prevailed!”
But even still, how you fought them, these 91 years!
And now, have you given up? And did you ever find what brass ring you were looking for, in the end? And your soul--did it outlast?
And your dreams, Salinger!, your nightnames--your corpus callosum, medulla oblongata--your synapses, the millions of synapses, the tangled sargasso synapses--did they ever?
I must write!
"For a school music festival, I want to play a silent air guitar concert under the band name Heavy Metal Jesus, complete with facepaint and scripture tattoos. Towards the end, I'll breathe air-fire and rip off my air-shirt and stage dive...
The lyrics I'll submit for approval:
My only two fears are the crowd won't get the satire and think I'm a horrible lyricist, or else they'll get it and deem me blasphemous...
It's funny... these humorless Christians can't joke about God or Satan... "
See, I 'd been meaning to post this since 3rd period today...
I kept trying to stop chatting with the people, but the people there didn't want me to go, so when I finally got on Blogger, it was 10:28... when the bell rang, I felt like bursting into tears... I really care about my writing! Everyone in the lab talks when I write... I wish they would all be quiet... I really want to write... I don't think anyone gets how much I care about it.
The lyrics I'll submit for approval:
"Apocalypse of darkness!
Decry thy ancient Son!
Jesus Christ above!
He shalt make thee one!
Cast upon thy name!
Thou shall never die!
Sinners scream his name!
He shall heed their cry!
Heed thy Savior!
City of ashes and rats!
Thy sinners and darkness destroyed!
Satan laughs from hell!
Heed the sound of bells!
Cast upon thy name!
Thou shall never die!
Sinners scream his
name!
He shall heed their cry!
Heed thy Savior!
Power of thy God!
Time before thy light!
Suffer thy heathen foes!
Evil unto night!
Cast away thy night!
Apocalypse thy night!
Cast upon thy name!
Thou shall never die!
Sinners scream his
name!
He shall heed their cry!
Heed thy Savior!
<8-minute>
My only two fears are the crowd won't get the satire and think I'm a horrible lyricist, or else they'll get it and deem me blasphemous...
It's funny... these humorless Christians can't joke about God or Satan... "
See, I 'd been meaning to post this since 3rd period today...
I kept trying to stop chatting with the people, but the people there didn't want me to go, so when I finally got on Blogger, it was 10:28... when the bell rang, I felt like bursting into tears... I really care about my writing! Everyone in the lab talks when I write... I wish they would all be quiet... I really want to write... I don't think anyone gets how much I care about it.
Wishes
My friend turned to me in service today and told me he thought those "if you had one wish" things were pretty stupid. "I'd just wish us all to be perfect and in heaven," he said. "Every sensible person should really wish the same."
If I had one wish, I'd wish God didn't exist. Then we could all be existentialists.
Not really.
Perhaps he's right.
If I had one wish, I'd wish God didn't exist. Then we could all be existentialists.
Not really.
Perhaps he's right.
Braindeath
We were joking about how it would be nice to have a dick that grew a few inches every year. And I was like, You know, it actually wouldn't...
Let's consider: by the time you're 90, you'd have a hard time standing up. Don't even think sex would be any more fun--every time you get an erection, all the blood would be drained from your body into a lump of meat several feet in diameter and you'd have nothing to keep those synapses in your head going and then you'd die.
So then my friend was like "NTML, man. Not too much language."
Let's consider: by the time you're 90, you'd have a hard time standing up. Don't even think sex would be any more fun--every time you get an erection, all the blood would be drained from your body into a lump of meat several feet in diameter and you'd have nothing to keep those synapses in your head going and then you'd die.
So then my friend was like "NTML, man. Not too much language."
Projection as a Freudian Defense Mechanism:
That cute girl in my Bible class, it's funny...
she reminded me of somebody I liked long ago, and I was expecting her voice to sound sorta like that... it's so much deeper than I expected! It was so absurd!
she reminded me of somebody I liked long ago, and I was expecting her voice to sound sorta like that... it's so much deeper than I expected! It was so absurd!
Magic rooms
Today was a nice day, in any case.
Every Tuesday and Thursday, when I go to that nice lady's office to work, with the wind through the windows and the sunscapes and all, a peaceful sorta mood gets to me, and it stays for hours and hours. When I left, the boys were all like "get over here," and I sorta felt like laughing...
I think the room must be magical or something...
Not really. But I'd buy it from her if I ever could.
Every Tuesday and Thursday, when I go to that nice lady's office to work, with the wind through the windows and the sunscapes and all, a peaceful sorta mood gets to me, and it stays for hours and hours. When I left, the boys were all like "get over here," and I sorta felt like laughing...
I think the room must be magical or something...
Not really. But I'd buy it from her if I ever could.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
On rulesy people
It's almost this spiritual revival week at our school, and I'm hoping God could appear to me before then.
Today, instead of service, we had a sort of scavenger hunt. The guys all got kind of upset at me because I wanted to be doing something wacky with all the topics.
"Nothing is ever fun when you do it the way you're supposed to."
Remember that? That's rule #2 in the Rules of Moi. They're all breaking it.
So then my great friend, in all his ENTP glory, asked me if I wanted to be in their Rules-of-Moi-abiding group. See, there was the idea. I would switch randomly and my former group would never notice I was gone until they start checking the pictures and see a guy missing. Unfortunately, he was all rulesy as well and had to inform the teachers of my switch.
He's been odd today.
During our experiments for science, he got upset because I wasn't holding the tube right and he wanted good results. Later, he got upset because he left his homework at home. Also, he doesn't like to cheat (not even for just the fun of it).
Everyone in the world is too rulesy... I'll bet they have a lot less fun than I do.
Hm... It was a good day, and I'm getting myself all down thinking about this. I mean, rulesiness, it's their style, right? Twould be a crime if they were anybody but themselves, I guess...
but still...
Today, instead of service, we had a sort of scavenger hunt. The guys all got kind of upset at me because I wanted to be doing something wacky with all the topics.
"Nothing is ever fun when you do it the way you're supposed to."
Remember that? That's rule #2 in the Rules of Moi. They're all breaking it.
So then my great friend, in all his ENTP glory, asked me if I wanted to be in their Rules-of-Moi-abiding group. See, there was the idea. I would switch randomly and my former group would never notice I was gone until they start checking the pictures and see a guy missing. Unfortunately, he was all rulesy as well and had to inform the teachers of my switch.
He's been odd today.
During our experiments for science, he got upset because I wasn't holding the tube right and he wanted good results. Later, he got upset because he left his homework at home. Also, he doesn't like to cheat (not even for just the fun of it).
Everyone in the world is too rulesy... I'll bet they have a lot less fun than I do.
Hm... It was a good day, and I'm getting myself all down thinking about this. I mean, rulesiness, it's their style, right? Twould be a crime if they were anybody but themselves, I guess...
but still...
NTML
The initials of my friend and my English teacher. We were eating lunch on the planter when my friend got sort of upset because we were talking about stuff like eating a T-Rex cock, for the third day in a row, so we all teased him by describing in graphic images how it would be if he had sex with our English teacher. He moves to another planter. So my friend and I had the brilliant idea of using the initials NTML to mean "not too much language," to be used whenever any one of us mentioned anything crude or inappropriate. With luck, we'll get the whole school saying it.
He'll never have a moment without that image in his head.
Hmm...
The world is full of amazing events in this vein as of late:
I'm sure if I sat down and thunk, I'd think up tons more, but I don't have quite the time... it's been an hour since I logged on...
The world is beautiful!
(as opposed to the erroneous "Life is beautiful" ^ - ^)
He'll never have a moment without that image in his head.
Hmm...
The world is full of amazing events in this vein as of late:
- The band I interviewed is having their first concert soon, and I really do love the guys in it more than anything--they're all such wonderful people.
- My history teacher said if you don't milk a cow, its udders explode. I thought about what would happen if my wife never breastfed. Would her boobs explode?
- My friends and I laughed the whole lunch period talking about this girl who had a condition which gave her 500 orgasms a day.
- My friend is working on a visual novel about Touhou.
- The praise team I used to be in had their first concert. Congrats, guys.
- My new converses are splendid, splendid, splendid! Love my dad!
I'm sure if I sat down and thunk, I'd think up tons more, but I don't have quite the time... it's been an hour since I logged on...
The world is beautiful!
(as opposed to the erroneous "Life is beautiful" ^ - ^)
Planters
I found a patch of clover beneath the trees in the planters. I have a certain phobia of those little clover bean pods that shoot seeds when you touch them. When I was younger, I thought they all bore an uncanny resemblance to pupae of some parasitic insect burrowing out of a caterpillar's body. My heart was pounding when I first approached them, but soon I figured poking them with a pencil could produce the same effect.
It turns out on the inside, they have hinged white shells, each half attached to a wall. When you touch the bean, the hinge comes apart and rips the wall open, and the seed is propelled much like one of those popper toys you get at birthday parties.
I then observed another planter with something resembling giant moss under it. I brushed my pencil over these, too, and I heard a cracking sound, but I couldn't see anything shooting out. These plants are interesting. They have little pods that are split with little equators. The equators fall off when you touch them, and the pods have myriad black seeds (possibly spore) in them. These pods are surrounded by a thick coating of white fur which catches the seeds. I'm not so sure why it does that yet.
There was a third sort of plant growing on the planters, but I couldn't quite make out any sort of seed-holding structure. It disappointed me. I'll have to check back in the summertime.
It turns out on the inside, they have hinged white shells, each half attached to a wall. When you touch the bean, the hinge comes apart and rips the wall open, and the seed is propelled much like one of those popper toys you get at birthday parties.
I then observed another planter with something resembling giant moss under it. I brushed my pencil over these, too, and I heard a cracking sound, but I couldn't see anything shooting out. These plants are interesting. They have little pods that are split with little equators. The equators fall off when you touch them, and the pods have myriad black seeds (possibly spore) in them. These pods are surrounded by a thick coating of white fur which catches the seeds. I'm not so sure why it does that yet.
There was a third sort of plant growing on the planters, but I couldn't quite make out any sort of seed-holding structure. It disappointed me. I'll have to check back in the summertime.
On determinism, value, and why abortions suck
I read up a bit on Schrodinger's cat and determinism in the lab after school, and my teacher was talking about how old people are a burden on the economy and we should just support them ourselves or let them die.
Let's consider: Whether determinism is true or not is really irrelevant. We perceive ourselves as having free will. If we didn't have free will, and we've only been programmed to think we have free will, it would make no ultimate difference. The claims that we don't have free will by those evil humanists (God curse their existences!) they feature on The Truth Project are completely impertinent to whether lives have any meaning.
Let's consider: Economic conservatism claims social security doesn't work because population sizes are often unpredictable. What began as 500 some guys supporting one is now down to three guys supporting one. In the year 2017, the ratio will be 1:1. So here's what we do: let's have tons of unprotected sex. Abortion is for anarchists.
Let's consider: Some claim that without God, there would be no ultimate value in anything. I say even if there was a God, whatever he thought valuable could be completely invaluable to you. Value is judged by the individual. Adolf Hitler's morality is every bit as valuable to him as yours is to you. There is no such thing as an ultimate standard for morality, and even if God existed, there couldn't be an ultimate standard for morality because morality is in itself dependent on respecting whatever the individual considers valuable. Unless God was illogical, he could not create such a thing as objective value, could he? Now, I'll accept arguments that we can't live fulfilling lives in our sinful condition and apart from him, but claiming objective morality is silly.
Let's consider: Whether determinism is true or not is really irrelevant. We perceive ourselves as having free will. If we didn't have free will, and we've only been programmed to think we have free will, it would make no ultimate difference. The claims that we don't have free will by those evil humanists (God curse their existences!) they feature on The Truth Project are completely impertinent to whether lives have any meaning.
Let's consider: Economic conservatism claims social security doesn't work because population sizes are often unpredictable. What began as 500 some guys supporting one is now down to three guys supporting one. In the year 2017, the ratio will be 1:1. So here's what we do: let's have tons of unprotected sex. Abortion is for anarchists.
Let's consider: Some claim that without God, there would be no ultimate value in anything. I say even if there was a God, whatever he thought valuable could be completely invaluable to you. Value is judged by the individual. Adolf Hitler's morality is every bit as valuable to him as yours is to you. There is no such thing as an ultimate standard for morality, and even if God existed, there couldn't be an ultimate standard for morality because morality is in itself dependent on respecting whatever the individual considers valuable. Unless God was illogical, he could not create such a thing as objective value, could he? Now, I'll accept arguments that we can't live fulfilling lives in our sinful condition and apart from him, but claiming objective morality is silly.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Please, man, NTML
What, eat a T-Rex penis? Come on. Cut it out, man. That's vulgar.
Really, joking with my friends makes me so happy.
I'm in a missions class now (how hypocritical of me), with this cute girl and then two of my friends. I'm pretty excited. I'd like to travel all over and meet all sorts of people.
The world is full of wonderful people.
I think I'm pretty cool today. I'm narcissistic, and then I'm overbubbly sometimes, and then I'm childish and awkward, but I think I'm a good person with good intentions...
Really, joking with my friends makes me so happy.
I'm in a missions class now (how hypocritical of me), with this cute girl and then two of my friends. I'm pretty excited. I'd like to travel all over and meet all sorts of people.
The world is full of wonderful people.
I think I'm pretty cool today. I'm narcissistic, and then I'm overbubbly sometimes, and then I'm childish and awkward, but I think I'm a good person with good intentions...
"The soul proves the existence of a you that transcends your genes and your culture and your neurochemicals."
Is a soul that part of you that acknowledges your own existence? An electric shock firing between two synapses does that.
Is it your own sense of value and ethical principles? Your genes and your environment that.
Is it an immaterial part of you that somehow includes these qualities, and preserves them upon your braindeath,
a hope which men in the face of death mass upon like fornicating frogs in the autumn?
God, where are you?
Please punish me.
Is it your own sense of value and ethical principles? Your genes and your environment that.
Is it an immaterial part of you that somehow includes these qualities, and preserves them upon your braindeath,
a hope which men in the face of death mass upon like fornicating frogs in the autumn?
God, where are you?
Please punish me.
somebody awesome makes me happy.
I usually think of them before lunch. It must that a hungry stomach feels so much like a stomach in love that I often can't tell the difference.
My brain wants to poop:
Everybody wants to change the world into the way they want. Power is the ability to cause change in the world. Power over other people means the power to use them as a means to achieve your dream end.
How can you possibly say the past exists in time and space?, saith Mr. Tall Guy in 1984. The past exists in records and in human minds. Perhaps reality itself exists only in the mind. One's reality is their mind's interpretation of the sensory input they're recieving.
The mind is everything. Consciousness is your perception of your existence. If you could get a machine to believe it exists, what difference would it have from all us beings with "souls"?
my mind is unusually cluttered today.
I usually think of them before lunch. It must that a hungry stomach feels so much like a stomach in love that I often can't tell the difference.
My brain wants to poop:
Everybody wants to change the world into the way they want. Power is the ability to cause change in the world. Power over other people means the power to use them as a means to achieve your dream end.
How can you possibly say the past exists in time and space?, saith Mr. Tall Guy in 1984. The past exists in records and in human minds. Perhaps reality itself exists only in the mind. One's reality is their mind's interpretation of the sensory input they're recieving.
The mind is everything. Consciousness is your perception of your existence. If you could get a machine to believe it exists, what difference would it have from all us beings with "souls"?
my mind is unusually cluttered today.
God, are you there? I need you for my missions class.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
The Stranger
I spent the Thursday afternoon listening to the guys in that band play. I'm really such a fan of theirs. They're all such wonderful people, so carefree...
Before I left, one of the guys let me borrow his copy of The Stranger. I finished it that night after I returned from dinner. I really liked the part where he said he never saw the face of God in that wall, just Marie's. I thought about it the whole time I spent sweeping the porch that night.
Yesterday I talked to my mom, and halfway through, I started crying. It was a good three minutes or so before I stopped. It was pretty stupid. I wasn't even sad.
I think I'll...
Before I left, one of the guys let me borrow his copy of The Stranger. I finished it that night after I returned from dinner. I really liked the part where he said he never saw the face of God in that wall, just Marie's. I thought about it the whole time I spent sweeping the porch that night.
Yesterday I talked to my mom, and halfway through, I started crying. It was a good three minutes or so before I stopped. It was pretty stupid. I wasn't even sad.
I think I'll...
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Softskins
It's quite hard to express any sort of angst without sounding whiny, and I'm trying very hard...
Not so confident of my own writing abilities, but I'm sure my speech teacher thinks I'm boring.
Something else I'd really like to say, though I'm sure I'd really, really hurt somebody if I said it here...It upsets me how many people read this.
Hmm... What else?
I want that story to turn out perfectly, also, the one about the narcissistic guy and the scooter. I want everyone to go "oh, that guy's still a good guy, even if he's completely mean to leave all the people floundering like that, even if he only lives for himself." It's mary-sue to do that, I know, to fall in love with your character like that. But I'd be pretty happy.
I hate how all the unselfish people hate the selfish people.
Just a bunch of complaints, mind you.
I'm an optimist.
I'm not sad.
Kill Fight Death the World
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Subculture(n.):1. a group of people with a culture (whether distinct or hidden) which differentiates them from the larger culture to which they belong
The hipster, drawing in the elements of so many cultures in which they saw as authentic, and showing their inauthenticity in a bent of irony,
the mod, simultaneously reveling in and mocking the hopeless consumerist culture,
the Dadaist, embracing emptiness, amorality, nihilism, anti-art, avant-garde, noise, chaos,
the punk, spiraling himself faster into a hopeless future with heroin and razor blades,
the rivethead, with assorted swastikas and bolts, scorning our idealized capitalism and technology,
the goth, personifying and mocking everything we hold to be blasphemous,
the raver, tuning out the futility with loud music and ecstasy,
the modern primitive,
the steampunk,
the cyberpunk,
the grunge,
the furry,
the Brillll-ian-cy!
the mod, simultaneously reveling in and mocking the hopeless consumerist culture,
the Dadaist, embracing emptiness, amorality, nihilism, anti-art, avant-garde, noise, chaos,
the punk, spiraling himself faster into a hopeless future with heroin and razor blades,
the rivethead, with assorted swastikas and bolts, scorning our idealized capitalism and technology,
the goth, personifying and mocking everything we hold to be blasphemous,
the raver, tuning out the futility with loud music and ecstasy,
the modern primitive,
the steampunk,
the cyberpunk,
the grunge,
the furry,
the Brillll-ian-cy!
Friday, January 15, 2010
War on Drugs, again.
Has been revised and is now about a travelling robot who doesn't get attached anybody or anything and a shallow but horribly complex girl with a bunch of dreams and a fragile and infantile boy who worships the gods of logic and I'd like to write the story as completely biased to the robot's narcissistic perspective yet at the same time delve into the psyches of his two friends and remain detached from his own and the cover shall show the same moped, thrice, each frame with him in a different pose around the moped and the words glued on to the page read "The Rise and Fall of the Magnificent Wind-Up Rabbit and Assorted Tales"in reference to his scooter.
Lolita
Twas a brillig begin with the slithy tothes but alas!, lost me halfway, at the boarding school...
I picked up bits and pieces from a plethora of aristocratic French & black humor:
Little Lo is languished, limp with sickness.
Old Man Haze leaves for a little,
finds her pregnant,
murders her molester.
Correct?, sed
Quis "Gaston" est?
I picked up bits and pieces from a plethora of aristocratic French & black humor:
Little Lo is languished, limp with sickness.
Old Man Haze leaves for a little,
finds her pregnant,
murders her molester.
Correct?, sed
Quis "Gaston" est?
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Plans, and the smartest man alive.
So I think I'll write a post about my childhood, and everything that's happened then. I've forgotten most of it by now, and I'd like to get it all down before I forget any more...
Sometime, I'll have to post a bit on my sexuality and all, as well. I don't feel too comfortable writing about it in front of so many people who don't feel comfortable reading something like that, but I've been wanting to for so long now... I mean... It's me, right?
I'm not the kind to start a whole nother secret journal just to say what I really want to say...
And then maybe one about how I met my girlfriend and all.
Hmm...
Yeah... That's about all.
Oh, also, this site's brilliant. I can't figure out how I hadn't thought about this before.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Another revolution
I'd like to write a story now,
about a revolutionary in a cold city far up north somewhere, and a utopia which genetically conditions its citizens to feel a sense of moral uprightness from doing things for the good of society, and his band of revolutionaries, including a girl who falls in love with him, and their subsequent exploits.
Near the end, a member of his band, a girl he loves, is captured by the utopian soldiers, who explain to her that the society's genetic programming is not so different, or perhaps superior, to leaving our genes to nature or chance or fate, and upon returning to his band a new woman, she is killed by the revolutionary, who blames the government for her murder. Soon, he arranges the murder of many civilians and convinces the masses that the government did it, and millions of men join his band.
However, one night, they storm a famous monument, and he, seeing their impending failure, deserts them and tries to flee to the walls of the city as his band is slaughtered behind him, all the while screaming into his walky-talky. This is heard, and he is finally cornered, and he opens fire. They shoot him several times in the stomach, and he's horribly frightened, and he begins to cry. He dies the next day at 11, still crying.
Font size is representative of the unimportance of this idea relative to my other story ideas.
about a revolutionary in a cold city far up north somewhere, and a utopia which genetically conditions its citizens to feel a sense of moral uprightness from doing things for the good of society, and his band of revolutionaries, including a girl who falls in love with him, and their subsequent exploits.
Near the end, a member of his band, a girl he loves, is captured by the utopian soldiers, who explain to her that the society's genetic programming is not so different, or perhaps superior, to leaving our genes to nature or chance or fate, and upon returning to his band a new woman, she is killed by the revolutionary, who blames the government for her murder. Soon, he arranges the murder of many civilians and convinces the masses that the government did it, and millions of men join his band.
However, one night, they storm a famous monument, and he, seeing their impending failure, deserts them and tries to flee to the walls of the city as his band is slaughtered behind him, all the while screaming into his walky-talky. This is heard, and he is finally cornered, and he opens fire. They shoot him several times in the stomach, and he's horribly frightened, and he begins to cry. He dies the next day at 11, still crying.
Font size is representative of the unimportance of this idea relative to my other story ideas.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
HEY IMMA LET YOU FINISH BUT FIRST LET ME SAY THIS KANYE POST IS THE LAST AND GREATEST KANYE POST
So here's the idea:
me and my friend have decided to spoil West's little moment of Radiohead-level intellectual superiority.
Sorry, West, but we've found you all out a long time ago. And now, we're going to create a site documenting (as we see it) the intellectual and antichristian motives behind his (only seemingly) erratic behaviours.
In the series, we'll dwelve into his lyrics, lyricisms, life, psyche, anything and everything else in the Kanyeverse. Then, in a several hundred-thousand word series on West written by some of the best writers (recruiting them is minor--finding them out is major), we'll expose him for the genius he is. Here's how:
If he admits to it,
he's already placing himself a level below us. Either that, or he was never the intellectual genius he claimed. THE great West, stumped by two kids across the world.
If he doesn't,
well, there's still the possibility that he's just stupid, but for all practical matters, he wins.
Yeah, he wins if he doesn't admit it.
Which, of course, he won't.
I'm already expecting a full-on blog post, IN HIS SIGNATURE LOUD CAPS-LOCK KEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, denouncing us and thus preserving his credibility.
In which case we lose. But hopefully least Mr. West will come to his senses and realize he was dangerously close to overdoing it (Not listening to rap? Really, West?).
Yeah.
Aw, hell, I'll do anything for the recognition of Martin Louis the Ki--er, West. Kanye West. His recognition.
West, here goes nothing.
me and my friend have decided to spoil West's little moment of Radiohead-level intellectual superiority.
Sorry, West, but we've found you all out a long time ago. And now, we're going to create a site documenting (as we see it) the intellectual and antichristian motives behind his (only seemingly) erratic behaviours.
In the series, we'll dwelve into his lyrics, lyricisms, life, psyche, anything and everything else in the Kanyeverse. Then, in a several hundred-thousand word series on West written by some of the best writers (recruiting them is minor--finding them out is major), we'll expose him for the genius he is. Here's how:
- We shall, on some sort of free site-host, create said site
- We shall, with the help of friends and enemies, post several hundred links to said site in that living legend's blog, and
- We shall, if all goes according to plan, get Kanye's recognition and comment on our blog
If he admits to it,
he's already placing himself a level below us. Either that, or he was never the intellectual genius he claimed. THE great West, stumped by two kids across the world.
If he doesn't,
well, there's still the possibility that he's just stupid, but for all practical matters, he wins.
Yeah, he wins if he doesn't admit it.
Which, of course, he won't.
I'm already expecting a full-on blog post, IN HIS SIGNATURE LOUD CAPS-LOCK KEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, denouncing us and thus preserving his credibility.
In which case we lose. But hopefully least Mr. West will come to his senses and realize he was dangerously close to overdoing it (Not listening to rap? Really, West?).
Yeah.
Aw, hell, I'll do anything for the recognition of Martin Louis the Ki--er, West. Kanye West. His recognition.
West, here goes nothing.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
Melodrama
I told him that afternoon: "If I was a kind of movie, I'd be a melodrama. I cry, and I laugh, I flaunt myself to the world, and I've rarely got a solemn, serious sorta moment, but I realize how frivolous it all is, and my mind, I'm watching it all, detached, sort of... Like all the people, I rarely get myself tangled into their messes. It's all just a sort of mock-eloquent performance..."
"It sounds like the subject of a bad Facebook quiz," he said.
He'd be a black comedy.
"It sounds like the subject of a bad Facebook quiz," he said.
He'd be a black comedy.
"Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth."
The way school need teachers, the way Kathie Lee needed Regis? That's the way I need Jesus
So I was feeling pretty envious for about the whole afternoon at my friend, who started a schoolwide game of "assassins."
I can't quite explain why I felt this way, but perhaps my beloved role-playing games never receive this sort of attention from the world.
Was it that his ideas were better than mine? Was he more charismatic? His ideas, they all get somewhere. My ideas are usually just discredited or forgotten.
It puts a sort of gap between us whenever this sort of thing happens. I'll distance myself from anyone who could possibly outshine, and then as a result of my attempts to comfort myself, my narcissism usually rises a few inches on the gauge.
It's funny. I guess I'm pretty humbled by fame.
Ah, no, that's not quite true. I'm bloated up by my words of self-comfort, and any success would just confirms these beliefs. I'm narcissistic either way.
Except when I'm successful, I have less of a reason to brag. So it would appear that I get humbled.
Whereas Kanye...
I totally forgot about my troubles after reading a few of his quotes. I really love that guy.
See...
The thing is, I'm trying to figure out if he's actually the egoist he makes himself out to be, or acting, and a step above us all intellectually. In the latter case, he could be an intelligent man who loves negative attention. Or, I'm secretly hoping, he could be an atheist who happens to hate the shit out of Christians and is trying to give them a horrible name with bad verses from his "Jesus Walks" album. Everything else is just building on that.
See, he really makes my day. Said he:
Actually, I'm pretty sure he's the latter. Yeah.
Nobody could possibly be that stupid.
That's right, Kanye. A step above the media critics. I love you, man.
I really need to get my hands on a shirt sometime.
That goddamn genius.
I can't quite explain why I felt this way, but perhaps my beloved role-playing games never receive this sort of attention from the world.
Was it that his ideas were better than mine? Was he more charismatic? His ideas, they all get somewhere. My ideas are usually just discredited or forgotten.
It puts a sort of gap between us whenever this sort of thing happens. I'll distance myself from anyone who could possibly outshine, and then as a result of my attempts to comfort myself, my narcissism usually rises a few inches on the gauge.
It's funny. I guess I'm pretty humbled by fame.
Ah, no, that's not quite true. I'm bloated up by my words of self-comfort, and any success would just confirms these beliefs. I'm narcissistic either way.
Except when I'm successful, I have less of a reason to brag. So it would appear that I get humbled.
Whereas Kanye...
I totally forgot about my troubles after reading a few of his quotes. I really love that guy.
See...
The thing is, I'm trying to figure out if he's actually the egoist he makes himself out to be, or acting, and a step above us all intellectually. In the latter case, he could be an intelligent man who loves negative attention. Or, I'm secretly hoping, he could be an atheist who happens to hate the shit out of Christians and is trying to give them a horrible name with bad verses from his "Jesus Walks" album. Everything else is just building on that.
See, he really makes my day. Said he:
“I am not a fan of books. I would never want a book’s autograph. I am a proud non-reader of books.”
"They say, ‘He’s got a God complex, because he said if they wrote The Bible again he would be in it’… Yeah, I would be in it…"
"I'm typing so fucking hard I might break my fucking Mac book Air!!!!!!!!"
"I DON'T HAVE A FUCKING TWITTER. HEY TWITTER, TAKE THE SO CALLED KANYE WEST TWITTER DOWN NOW ... WHY? ... BECAUSE MY CAPS LOCK KEY IS LOUD!!!!!!!!!""And I know the government administered AIDS"
“If it wasn’t for race mixing there’d be no video girls. Me and most of our friends like mutts a lot. Yeah, in the hood they call ’em mutts.”
Nobody could possibly be that stupid.
That's right, Kanye. A step above the media critics. I love you, man.
I really need to get my hands on a shirt sometime.
That goddamn genius.
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