Infidelity

I hate how it makes front page news these days.
Of course, I'd probably not do it out of my love for my wife, but I wouldn't make a huge deal out of it if she did it. I'm me, she's her.

That's all I wanted to say tonight. Pretty boring, right?

Oh, I hope you internet administrator guys are reading this, too.

You that anime blog that you got all worked up about for its "adult content"? I happened to be doing a paper on the necessity of abridging First Amendment rights and censoring stuff.
I'd like to say I respect your role in keeping our school internet school-appropriate, while still giving us the freedom to write letters and journals and shit. Props to you guys.

If you're reading this journal, though, it would be nice if you could stop.
See, when I get rich and famous one day, I'll be glad to show the whole world my amazing childhood.
But, see...
If you read everything I post about how I'm a lolicon, how I wanna try ecstasy, how I wanna be a nudist and shit now, as I post it, you might be upset--
Because by the time it comes out, this story about this spokesman for a generation was all spoiled to you several decades ago.
Now, you wouldn't want that to happen, would you?
I understand that I'm an interesting guy with an amazing life.
But if you're that interested in every single little detail of my hella awesome existence, please, for your own sakes: wait 20 years or so.

Thanks.

Yeah. Nothing more.
Oh, did you know Jonathan Swift had multiple affairs?

No kidding my clothes smell bad.

Shirts, both pairs of jeans, boxers--all has been contaminated by my socks that night.
Deodoranticized my pink Hollister shirt and jeans this morning, but the trail of stink persists.
Shall have to rewash them this afternoon.

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...

Softskins

It's quite hard to express any sort of angst without sounding whiny, and I'm trying very hard...

Just this afternoon, I gave a stupid speech. I'm pretty bummed out right about now...

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

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:

“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.”

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.

Angst is jizz in the pants of life.

It's funny how big of a dick I am. I'm not an ordinary dick, either. I'm an erect one, with the semen of my angst spewing out in a million directions.
I don't know.
Ah, I wish...
I wish I could mean something. I sound angsty and stupid, but I don't know how I could say it in any other way: I wish people could really like me for a good reason. I wish the whole world would pay attention to me. I wish I was something significant. But until then, I wish people would stop liking me and get out of my life.
And then I really wish I could express this in some way or another without sounding like an angsty teen blogger.
Really. I mean it. I really piss myself off.

Big Empty.

If anyone likes me, as a friend or otherwise, it probably means they don't know me so well. I'm really quite an un-like-a-ble person. Get that? I'm: •unsympathetic: (of characters in literature or drama) tending to evoke antipathetic feelings. I'm proud (proud of it), narcissistic, elitist, blunt, unprincipled, uncaring, Outshined! and absolutely-brillovely!
I wonder why people like me. I hardly like them. It would be nice if they'd all go away sometimes and leave me to myself. It's the way I'd like to live--just me and the world and nothing between--
to i m p l odeli.keth i s s o r t o f.
Lovely in a dark, unholy kind of way.
Interstellar overdrive.
Quasarly.
Big, colossal slave of a world beholds the immortal child-king in a Jesus Christ pose!;
an empty, godless god of an eternity
and so now, get this, world:
LEAVEMEALONE. <--and see that period?
It's the largest size they have.
FIGht.

FIGHT THE WORLD! THE WORLD IS THE ENEMY!

The haibane came into Glie without memories, and they lived for a few years, and they left to God knows where,
and Hamlet stood alone in the end, vanquished the world and all its little mice-men, but the wound on his side--twas all for naught!,
and Macbeth, from his castle, saw the forests of the world rising up, and "Life is but a walking shadow," he cried,
and Chiyoko stared up into the black void from her hospital room rocket ship, and,
and after all, it was nothing at all!,
and after all, they knew it wasn't ever anything, except for when they were so young, shone like the sun, but now their empty, black hole eyes,
and yet they stood, and they groped-swung-stabbed at the nothingatall, the empty world, the invincible, the infinity!,
And that's exactly what I'd like to tell every person to do,
every stupid victim of the stupid world:
"FUCKING FOREVER FIGHT INFINITY!"
Though you never find out what you're looking for, you looked harder than anything!,

And so when I get enough money, I'll make a giant FIGHT, hundreds of feet high,
So people can go next to it.
( . )<--And a person will be that tall, the size of one of these periods.

"BUT INSIDE YOUR HEART IT IS BLACK AND IT'S HOLLOW AND IT'S COLD!"

I love that line. It feels like a Godamount of emptiness and angriness, all built up in a mess of tangled wires and confusion and screaming.

"But inside your heart it is BLACK AND IT'S HOLLOW AND IT'S COLD!" See, I can't even write it in lowercase letters. It's angry, and it wants something to fill it all up again. I want something amazing to appear.

It's dinnertime, or close, anyway.
A Nine Inch Nails cover band, a comic, and something else, I think... The Floor is Lava is a great game. Seesaws are godly. The people here are all so amazing, and sometimes I'm more amazing, and other times I'm just a little lower than them all, but they're all very amazing.

"BUT INSIDE YOUR HEART IT IS DARK AND IT'S HOLLOW AND IT'S COLD!"
"BUT INSIDE YOUR HEART IT IS DARK AND IT'S HOLLOW AND IT'S COLD!"
"BUT INSIDE YOUR HEART IT IS DARK AND IT'S HOLLOW AND IT'S COLD!"
"BUT INSIDE YOUR HEART IT IS DARK AND IT'S HOLLOW AND IT'S COLD!"
"BUT INSIDE YOUR HEART IT IS DARK AND IT'S HOLLOW AND IT'S COLD!"
Like, there's not much love.
It's like some sort of empty beehive, waxy and gross.

More angriness.

At a shoe store, I saw these converses on the shelf and wanted them. My mom asked the lady who worked there, and she told me they were for girls.
I felt like screaming.

On forgetting to do homework

I was very angry today, so I decided to eat lots of candy.
After a while, it becomes hard to distinguish between stress and hunger.

AIYEMAINGREE!

Someday! I want to look at life, death, and everything in between and say "this wasn't wasted!" and to feel invincible! unstoppable! significant! because I've done something that can never! be undone, and I know I can live forever through that, somehow! or somewhere! or someday!
I want something to define me! and to define the world! and to define everythingandeveryone!
Fulfillment! Not-emptiness! Death to satellites!
More than love, dreams, happiness, anything, everything-in-the-world!!!!!!!!!!
I! wish! for!

Die, die, my darling!

While I've been gone:

Sleepovers, shooting fireworks in the street, shooting fireworks at people, sneaking out, water parks, Truth or Dare, Tetris, Kirby: Nightmare in Dreamland, sleepless nights, the smell of nail polish in my sisters' room, skunks on the road, long car trips, visiting the Taiwanese embassy, bourgeoisie McDonalds in downtown DC, shopping at the mall, loud music, this, trashing stuff, closed-minded old people, gross fat people, annoying little kids, a lot more screaming at my annoying, closed-minded parents than usual,
all bouncing around inside my head.

Right about now, life is like one of those weird-looking bugs, stuck between the two layers of glass in your window,
beating itself to death,

Only there are a million of them, and they won't die.

Hate.

Falling snow is one of the most beautiful things in the world,
but everything is always more beautiful in your mind.

Stupid, stupid, stupid expectations, idealism, desire.
Buddha and Nietzsche turn in their graves.

1. A hate (singular, n.): a wrinkled bundle of self-loathing,
like a prune,
only the wrinkles are finer, sharper,
the color like Amerindian leather,
the smell like putrid, sour, acrid,

Ex: I hit the glass on the cabinet today, out of hate.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Summer makes laziness.

3... 2... 1...
SEX PISTOLS!!!!!!!!!!!,
"F the Press, Michael's the best!",
Whattotalkabout?

God answers prayers.
I'm friends with the girl in my art class,
the girl I liked likes me back,
the girl who was upset with me is talking to me again,
and something amazing really did happen: Taiwan...

I'm not so sure what I should do now. Should I try talking to God again? Nothing amazing ever happens when I do, anyway. Maybe I'm expecting too much.

Blablablabla.

I've been dreaming about school and tests and that girl in art for four days straight now,
and this boredom is killing me and my writing abilities....
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa;lksjdflaksjdfaslkdjf;laskdjfa;lskdjfa;lskdjfa;slkdjf
I wish I could miss people and why can't I ever miss anyone and why don't I ever feel bad for people getting killed on TV? and trying to like someone can be so hard sometimes! and I'm selfish...........................................
The-heat-fries-your-brain-like-a-fried-banananananana...........

Today I...

I had my art finals today.
Everyone at my table was doing pretty badly, even my friend who's usually just about the greatest artist in the class. But halfway through the period, that really seriously cute girl who sits at the other table lifts up her picture and....

She's a better artist.

I knew it all along, but she'd compliment my works so much that perhaps for a second I believed I was better.
Whatever.
I spent the rest of the period scribbling snakes and Alice-isms and ecstasy all over my picture.

It turns out there are better artists than me, better speakers than me, better writers than me. What does that make me? I'm pink again on that graph, right? Or lower...
My invincibility left.

Logic goes poof when emotions sink in.

A poof-kitty...

Not fair.

If all your goodness and talents could be counted with numbers, you ought to graph them. I wish they would all add up to the same height, like a row of orange singular bars.
But look, they're all so uneven... Blue is so much better than purple and green and brown...
Perhaps Hitler is the little orange bar in the corner of the box.
Which one would I be?

On weekends

You feel irritable, dirty, uncomfortable when you can't wash your hair by 4:30 in the afternoon,
But you know it's better if you wait until Sunday morning.

Oh, my first comment...

All of a sudden, this feels like whining now, not writing...

But I shouldn't say that... some people are guilt-stricken so easily...

me, definitely.
I'll keep writing.

Like...
Today I read the story of Samson, and I was expecting to cry, and I did.
I mean, the angel came and told his mom, and he was out on the field on a windy day, I imagined, and she called out to her husband, and they were happy...
And the other time, he was pissed like they had no idea, and they burned his wife... He burned their fields.
And he killed a bunch of them, and he was so thirsty and tired afterwards, and perhaps it was the sun shining down on him, no clouds, that made him so tired of having these stupid things happen to him, but then he found water, so it's all good.
And at the end, his eyes were gone, and he braced himself against the pillars, and he was probably upset at himself, and he pulled down the entire temple, and then he won.

And like... I think he found something amazing.
And then I haven't cried in forever. I think I was in love all over again, too.
But it all disappeared just yesterday, and today I still have that empty feeling, bitter brown medicine, empty tires, whateverness.
I wonder if Samson went to Heaven.

Fear stuff

I fear a spirit spidermonkey, and rub your ears before bed so the demons can't enter, and never think about aliens without a tin-foil hat...
I fear thoughts coming to life. A serial killer, public urination, a chain of snot.
I'm afraid someone is reading this, but I love the attention, secret admiration,
and it's not good to hide your troubles.
I'm afraid my openness, like God, is dead.

Broken relationships, or not feeling anything from broken relationships,
or feeling guilt for not feeling anything,
but I wish I could tell her I love her and mean it, and maybe after 2 years, everything could be just the way it was before, or better, perhaps...
"It wasn't so hard, after all," we might say, and laugh, on the bridge. Maybe I'll come back during the winter and it'll be the first time I see snow on the water.

Where will the ducks go in the winter, I wonder.