symptom finger's blog: "the real emo and why you should know about it"

I've got less than an hour before i have to be at work and I'm choking down anti depressants and tequila like its the only cure for the worst hangover ever. Not to say I have a hang over. Far from it. But I'm definitely not 100%. I pop two more advil and find some percocet and all i can think about is the constant nagging feeling that nothing is where it should be. Over the course of time situations change and personality evolves. I can say with certainty that building character is pretty much what I get paid for nowadays, but when does it stop? When can I sit back and say all is good in the world. If its not concern for myself, its concern for someone or something else. I'm exhausted. mentally, physically and spiritually. i hate that I need to find that bottle of johnny Black to fake it through the weekend. In reality I don't need to but what else is left. I'm a hallow shell of everything i thought i could be. Slowly drained of every opportunity I've ever set in my sights. Is it just my own thoughts that do this to me. I swear I try. I do look on the bright side. it always there. That light at the end of the tunnel constantly shines bright but never gets any closer. Perhaps I simply haven't figured out how to overcome the obstacles in my path. I might just need to have more patience. Beyond the complaint there is an underlying fear that I will never get to where I feel I should be. I dont ask much. I want my life. i want my home and friends near me. I want to fly again. i want to teach. I want to not be haunted by my mistakes. No matter how many times I forget them some one always remembers them at the least opportune time. Let me be. I've had enough.

Do you think there is something inherently evil about being human? Is there a place within ourselves that's joyful and frightening at the same time? A beauty that lies in the ugliness of our moddled souls? Reincarnations of lives into something incredible and new. Fresh starts for the worst kind. The most terrible events known followed by the birth of the most wonderful thing on the planet. The destroyer of worlds as much a part of our transcendent beings as god. Crestfallen snow glowing orange in the flames of a phoenix. Standing on the cusp of some dark object greater in magnitude than any stone god could lift. Teetering on the edge, at the brink of humanity. Like a child's toy fallen fromly his freshly expired little fingers. The glow of half lit faces staring in obsession. The fear and sweat, sickly sweet on the lips of the walking damned. And but what for else? But love, the handle and chain to pull fear from its velvet depth. Holding on to the impenetrable strand of humanity that causes the divine spark. Igniting the flames with its flawless energy. Streams of silver and lights washing over the globe. As humanity moves through the ash of all its destroyed.

Ever transient and solitaire. I move through mist and shadow. Through dark cloud and rain. Soaked and drunk with love, money, power, and drug. Streams through cobblestones beneath my feet. I walk home. Every time a little less man than I could have been. Porcelain dolls smile through the shop windows as puppet strings play their satire. Tear drops fall through my hair and soak heavy. The searing pain of voice heard every waking moment in the mind. I sit and stare. I become a fixation, a integral piece of scenery, hard to miss and easy to walk past. Welcomed and tolerated. I pass on as easily forgotten as reminded. The writing on the wall is words that I cant read. Passive aggressive haikus intent on invoking guilt. Comprehension of language I never got the chance to learn. Give it time and the thought will come. After all, we have all the time in the world. Its okay, I’m just stopping to rest. While I’m here, do you have anymore of those pills? I have a splitting headache and I could really use a try cyclic or two. Or three or four. Give it time, it should kick in. Save it for tomorrow, just let me get some sleep in says the speakers. Warps and warbles crackle in the air take me where I thought I wanted to be. Drum rolls and incandescent light. Dull hum over polished floors. Creases on the spackled wall and dust floating in the draft. She said don’t. I lie that I wont. She said stay. And I lie that I will. My red face and sweat soaked skin tell me otherwise. Instinctual purpose flows through my eyes. Retreat and regroup the battle is lost. I’ll be back soon when I’m bored with my next failure. Just sit tight for a moment. The head on my shoulder and the arm at my waist. Gripped in agony, my stomach aches. Nothings wrong, its just not right. Satisfaction will not come tonight. I’ll sleep on the white tile lobby floor. Hell bent on ignoring what’s outside. I ask how did it ever come to this. I really just should have stayed at home. The room circles wide and all I can say is diffused in the din of souls that cant help but keep cursing me. How they move and how the walk, impatiently and cruel. I cant help but lie and run to what’s left of my room. The desk is cluttered with the notes and hopes of passing inspirations and not one of them is worth the time I’d spent forging them.

these things take time like learning the clarinet i think you and me well i guess we could be my skins gonna wonder what i'm doing now something old and something new something i said or that i did it should remind me of you share your breath with me graze mine and doing fine i could die happy lets lay here quiet so close they cant hear and we'll still watch movies but we wont share the couch and you'll still kiss me but pulled away so easily because we all know art is hard let it out then go to take it in its getting too routine so we would sulk and drink and hope to die we pulled some strings spun things around and began to shout liar liar the story goes on theres no beginning to the story you can squint at it through snowy static keep on stretching the antenna in hopes it will come clear you know it kills me to see such a pretty girl so tired suck on my fingertips until you kill all my prints so you're boyfriend has no clue how much i've been touching you so i sang you a song poor choices of chords and the words were forced you come apart at the seems as she lays up awake its her feelings that ache you took it back everything you said and cough it up to cut it right in half your new tattoo looks cool but its not really you on our way we had our fun then it turned sometimes we lose the games we play as i recall they hadn't mentioned this at all and love with you for tonight and thats all but i just dont know what it was and if theres nothing left to say i'll string you along until i get my way and if you wanna dance then i'll want to lead and you know its all in your mind take your time with this one we both deserve a good time those sad blue eyes i did forget what the tarot maid did say i'll burn today the land will shake so run away i will get back to the back up plan to find you the wilted flower that i gave all the lyrics starlight and brightness start acceleration take it back to square one its like learning the clarinet and imagine that you haven't sqweaked yet. maybe we'll see this through if i get it together

The following is an extract from a very well written history of emo, emocore, screamo, etc....these words have become so vague, where record labels will often throw it in with words like indie. i'm tired of it to be honest...i can remember back in the day when emo was just that...the line was drawn...it grew from something that i myself held close to me...the great DC hardcore sound that sadly went dry in the early 80's gave foundation to everything you kiddies no about the anything but self described "emotional punk" it was music and it meant something...apparantly enough at least to catch label attention, and get sliced into some of the most unpure defemations of everthing it once was...the next time i see a kid wearing his sister's jeans cuz he says hes "emo" is gonna get my size 10 to his camel toe...the fucking styles that came out of fucking no where...all the shit we do today, because...sure, now its popular...i write this because i dont want to ever hear another kid come up to me saying hes a white belt cuz he listens to taking back sunday or bright eyes...and if i hear him say the word keane again i'm gonna straight up smack em...emo is so much more...sure bright eyes and taking back sunday are decent folks, but for fucks sake, lets not forget where it started...back before dashboard, the get up kids, promise ring...i'm talking saves the day before "stay what you are" i'm talking sensefield's "building" and rites of spring, and gameface, by a thread...all the way back to the DC hardcore scene with good clean fun, minor threat...back at the source...dag nasty and reveleation records...so heres the passage...i hope you learn something...and for the last time Panic at the Disco is not fucking emo, screamo, punk, or anything like that....quit being retarded Sincerely DC HADCOREZ DALSON KIDZ Emo (short for emotional) is a genre of punk rock music. The term was originally applied to bands in the Washington DC punk scene who played a more raucous and emotional form of punk than the norm. There are many legends concerning the origin of the term 'emo', but one of the most prevelant is that at an early DC show, a fan shouted "You're emo!" at a band (though the myths differ as to which band - some say Embrace, some say Rites of Spring). Another argument is that emo is short for emotional. The genre (or at least the classic "DC sound", pioneered by bands such as Rites of Spring[?], Embrace[?], Gray Matter[?] and Shudder to Think[?]) has its roots in punk rock. Perhaps the biggest influence over the genre was Minneapolis, MN's Husker Du, whose 1984 album Zen Arcade[?] provided the blueprint for early emo; complex music with intense vocals and deeply introspective songwriting. The influential early emo (or, as it became known, emocore) band Rites of Spring sped up this style. The next stage in the genre's evolution came in 1982 through 1992 with bands such as Indian Summer[?], Moss Icon[?], Policy of Three[?], Still Life[?] and Navio Forge[?]. The "quiet/loud" dynamic often heard in the music of recent bands such as Saetia[?] and Thursday[?] was pioneered by bands such as this. Vocally, these bands intensified the emocore style. Such bands were often left crying or screaming at the end of their performances. This led to many hardcore fans putting down emo fans as "wimps", or "weaklings". Just as emo added a new found intensity to the original emocore style, the style of hardcore emo brought the intensity to a climax. The scene had its beginnings in 1991-92 with bands such as Heroin[?], Portraits of Past[?] and Antioch Arrow[?], who played chaotic hardcore music with abrasive, emotional vocals. After building to a climax in terms of chaos and intensity with hardcore emo, emo began to slow down. Bands such as Sunny Day Real Estate[?] and Mineral[?] came forth playing a slower but still frail and emotional style of emo, mixing the early, emocore sound of Rites of Spring with the post-hardcore innovation of Fugazi. Today the term 'emo' continues to become increasingly ambiguous. With the success of bands such as The Get Up Kids, Jimmy Eat World and The Promise Ring[?], the mainstream media became ever more interested in the genre, tending to label many indie-rock bands as emo. The term has become a catch-all encompassing many guitar-pop bands that have emerged from the underground, and bands as diverse as Thursday[?] and Taking Back Sunday[?] being referred to in the same breath as Dashboard Confessional[?] and the New Amsterdams[?].