choose your weapon...

Movies (4) Photos. (47) Poetry (16) Quotations. (76) Words (15) Writings. (137)

Sunday, November 29, 2009

...she wrote with the slightest hint of pessimism.

Oh sure. It's exactly like true love.... if scaled by the hourly rate of some filthy back door motel room where paper-bagged harlots trade orgasms for cash and cash for candy that comes individually packaged in it's very own AIDS stained needle.

I'm dying to live in a world where everything doesn't feel the same as nothing.

Humanities ravenous appetite for indifference consumes most of us... with it's tendency to rape the truth and sincerity out of anyone who's not drowning in their own fear of reality. But not me. Oh no. I have the pathetic desire to see what's really in front of me... and the ignorant audacity to call it beautiful.

It's always been, and always will be about avoiding the curse of a monotonous excuse for existence.

the sarcastic taste of culture

I went to Hongkong for the weekend, and this is all I bought.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

the WRONG way

I've been watching way too much Californication. WAY too much. It has me wanting to write something worthy of Palahniuk, or Vonnegut or Selby. Of course, that's asking for the impossible...but I spent the better part of today coming up with something... anything that might shock or disturb humanity out of the straight-edged addiction to the same old story. Here's a little taste.

"I can’t help myself. The man’s got a target in his pants and I never miss a shot. Unaware of my intention to fuck his world inside out, he pretends to listen intently to Gucci Barbie’s champagne soaked tirade as she bounces her fake tits all over his wallet. He’s been watching the door all night, silently aching for someone better to come along. I wish I could say I fancied it a challenge but the black coffee truth is, no one surprises me. They all start by admitting they want a little bit more of that sweet cream in their cup, and finish with it dripping from the mouth of their next empty conquest. A circle of steaming shit stains, polished and scrubbed clean only to get pumped full of garbage again... and smile while simultaneously hating every second of it."

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

"I find it strange that in a city of 30 million people, I'm still reaching out for someone who isn't there."

Sunday, November 22, 2009

"Through the blackest night, morning gently tiptoes, feeling its way to dawn."

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Don’t be afraid of the unknown.
It’s not that easy.
Sure it is.
Well what about you?
What are you scared of?

...Being ordinary.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

"Imagination is the highest kite one can fly."

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

iBITE my nails.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve bitten my nails. A few years ago my friend Amber (who worked at one of those nail salons and had some fancy name she called herself... re: aesthetician) decided I needed acrylic nails. Fucking. Really. Stupid. Decision. My life was fucked upside down from the minute I tried to push the salon door open. Keyword: tried. Over the next week, I realized a few very important elements of my life. First, I was a short order cook and used my hands for handling raw food, very hot objects and sharp shiny things at a pace that had amateurs in tears. Not to mention I did it all in style, with a black baseball cap on backwards and disgustingly grease-caked skate shoes. Try matching that to long plastic pink things expertly glued on your fingertips. Then, I was a chronic stoner, and held the crown for speed rolling, immediately lost the minute those damn nails showed up. Not to mention grinding weed, packing bowls, lighting bowls, cleaning bongs. Also, I was an independent, adult human being. Expected to be perfectly capable of doing up my own buttons and zippers, opening shampoo bottles, and holding a toothbrush. I was useless. Completely and utterly useless, temporarily driven to insanity by a ridiculous and superficial custom. Ladies who can pull it off, I applaud you, for it is much more difficult then it seems, and while you may be able to bear the everyday torture… I could not, and don’t believe I’ll ever try again. So yeah. I bite my nails. Because I have to.


I hate people who try to rationalize evil and claim Hitler, or Stalin, or any other manic tyrant to be brilliantly intelligent. Sure, they were infatuated with power, and at some point all managed to fuck up the whole world. But if they were smart, truly smart in my definition of the word, they would have realized that their motives were fuckin crazy from day one… and no amount of blood overflowing the streets would make any of it any better. Smart people avoid death, destruction and chaos, because they don’t need it to accomplish their rise to power. It’s the weak and heartless that fall back to the fear mongering, the epitome of controlling the masses, the cowards excuse to murder rape and pillage in the name of their cause. Of course, that means we as a world race… must be REALLY fucking stupid, because we fall for it, over and over again. Learning nothing from history. Re-writing the same malicious stories with different coloured inks. Justifying our own apathetic attitudes and blindly following the leader without question.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

"Nothing in this world is anything like that of your favorite lover.
There are no substitutions."

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Do not go gentle into that good night
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
- Dylan Thomas

Sunday, November 8, 2009

people always leave

Online friendships of any level are fleeting. They come and go and come and stay and go as fast as they started all over again. Circling the bridge between all things genuine, and all things temporary. Expectations flutter and fall in silence, no one voicing their inner longing for the people who have vanished to different things. Better things maybe. But it doesn’t make the pain any less. It just makes it easier to pretend it was inevitable and in all probability, doomed from the first e-mail, or comment, or skype meeting. Of course, it happens in the offline world too, but seems to me that the consequences are more meaningful. That the loss of a friendship hurts a little more, and matters a little more. That even if you know its simply because you’re busy with changing priorities or moved on to a different lifestyle altogether, it still creeps under your skin, and you take a minute to realize the impact that individual had on your life, even if it was only for a week or two. Even if it was only for a minute. But here, with the easy typing and convenient access, there is no remorse. There is no appreciation. Just as fast as they came, just as fast as you care about them… they don’t care anymore, and leave. So you convince yourself to let it go. You convince yourself that’s how it always happens, and concede to an online world without that person in it. I find it strange how I hide behind the tense of “you” or “person” when the subject matter is innately personal. When what I mean to say is… “I care about them.” Gone now, for whatever reason, I want those people (if they ever stumble across this entry) to know who they are, and know that however fleeting, you all still matter to me and always will, even if I’ve been tossed aside and forgotten. I’m here, a real person on the other side of this screen… and I’ll remember enough for the both of us.

sad... but true

"Ladies, I have decided to become a douche bag. You may now flock to me."

Monday, November 2, 2009

"Sanity is the playground for the unimaginative."

Sunday, November 1, 2009

“I prefer credulity to cynicism... for there is more promise in almost anything than in nothing at all.”

-Ralph B. Perry

if you happen to be a billionaire...