(o, flayed)
Better yet, my brain is a fucking lithmus test soaked too long in the alkali and the last few days i've been wrapped up in some nonsense submission kick wherein i've resolved to be something damn near like a nice person and, as a result, my petty cloys have turned inward and slowly begun to eat what little wit i had rattling around my cranium into the fucking oatmeal i know eat on a regular basis just so i can maintain some consistency in my shits.
Good god.
This isn't right. this isn't right at all.
It's close to 1am on a thursday which means the weekend is essentially here. my girlfriend's out enjoying cocktails on the heels of new york city which is right the fuck where i ought to be, but instead...instead i've holed myself up in the southeast corner of my little cove, going blind with hour after hour in front of this idiot box for the sole purpose of trying to create something. anything.
A fucking blog.
A fucking blog?
It's better than nothing, i will ruefully admit but there's no way this damn thing will sustain itself (even if it doesn't manage to land a place on anyone's fucking favorites) if it's pursued under the auspices of me finally turning into a fully-fledged benevolent human being.
Not that i'm that wretched a shit. far from it, actually. but i do have the tendency to be a bit of a caustic bastard and i was struck with the notion on monday that i'd be best served to just turn around and change that. relish kind words over profanity. lend a hand instead of a finger. accept the flaws of my fellow apes as intrinsic niches in the armor that would go best unaddressed in favor of their shinier bits.
Fuck that.
Truth is i'm an angry young man. i have been since i was thirteen. not all the time, mind you. i enjoy orchids and poetry as often as i can. i'm in love. i've loved before. love. love. love. i fucking love everything. but it's in my nature to grow inordinately pissed off. to grind my teeth and chain smoke while tearing the quick right the hell out of my fingertips just to keep from letting contempt get the best of me.
Sometimes it works. i suppose that's why i've got this fucking mountain of habits. but you know what? i don't give a damn. my habits are mine and so is my rage and this little forum here seems like the perfect goddamn epicenter for me to espouse them all.
Among other things, i imagine.
Shit, you can't be angry all the time.
You'd just be a bitch then and that's not sexy. no my friends, that isn't sexy at all.
Good god.
This isn't right. this isn't right at all.
It's close to 1am on a thursday which means the weekend is essentially here. my girlfriend's out enjoying cocktails on the heels of new york city which is right the fuck where i ought to be, but instead...instead i've holed myself up in the southeast corner of my little cove, going blind with hour after hour in front of this idiot box for the sole purpose of trying to create something. anything.
A fucking blog.
A fucking blog?
It's better than nothing, i will ruefully admit but there's no way this damn thing will sustain itself (even if it doesn't manage to land a place on anyone's fucking favorites) if it's pursued under the auspices of me finally turning into a fully-fledged benevolent human being.
Not that i'm that wretched a shit. far from it, actually. but i do have the tendency to be a bit of a caustic bastard and i was struck with the notion on monday that i'd be best served to just turn around and change that. relish kind words over profanity. lend a hand instead of a finger. accept the flaws of my fellow apes as intrinsic niches in the armor that would go best unaddressed in favor of their shinier bits.
Fuck that.
Truth is i'm an angry young man. i have been since i was thirteen. not all the time, mind you. i enjoy orchids and poetry as often as i can. i'm in love. i've loved before. love. love. love. i fucking love everything. but it's in my nature to grow inordinately pissed off. to grind my teeth and chain smoke while tearing the quick right the hell out of my fingertips just to keep from letting contempt get the best of me.
Sometimes it works. i suppose that's why i've got this fucking mountain of habits. but you know what? i don't give a damn. my habits are mine and so is my rage and this little forum here seems like the perfect goddamn epicenter for me to espouse them all.
Among other things, i imagine.
Shit, you can't be angry all the time.
You'd just be a bitch then and that's not sexy. no my friends, that isn't sexy at all.
posted by Kid Swinging at 4:07 AM
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