Kilgore's blog: "myspace lost"

Sunday, October 22, 2006 myspace sucks Current mood: aggravated Category: Blogging Myspace sucks. I can prove it. I've been an alienated loner since before al gore claimed to invent the internet so tipper could control it. Myspace just completed some sort of truly impressive geometric expansion and successfully became what icq, hotmail, craigslist, and geocities were /ten fucking years ago/. Those other ones were were just decentralized. They made some money, sure, but they left the power with the people. If they had been left to grow unchecked; grow organically like human friendship does, they'd already have merged and incorporated a second-life sort of visual interface and we'd have the virtual democracy the thinkers of the world envisioned the net bringing to life as optimistic 90's fools. There would alredy /be/ a worldwide cyber-culture; an alternate-reality parallell social fabric to replace the tattered one in so many countries. 'The man' destroyed the social fabric on purpose, y'know. A tattered social fabric is much easier to contol; the happier you let your people be the more they demand of you. As a meetingplace, myspace is now what icq was ten years ago. I am now showing up in the search window of intelligent fillipinos. I was meeting intelligent asians ten years ago before AOL bought ICQ and 'the man' somehow convinced 'the sheeple' to fear 'the lonely stranger' and shut down a burgeoning social revolution to preserve the abusive status quo. Bill Gates is an asshole, albeit a kinder asshole than about anybody else with the power to do what he did. Myspace is a wonderful platform upon which to build another nascent international culture, but it's the shitty centralized replacement for something beautiful that was taken away from the little people by the powerful people and I'm the only one that realizes it. WAKE UP PEOPLE! MYSPACE SUCKS! Their servers aren't designed to handle large artistic email; I've had a few masterpieces disappear into the ether because the consolidated computing power of one giant-ass corporation can only begin to compete with the power of a billion computer uesers doing the same thng at the same time just because they felt like it on 133mhz pentiums with 56k modems. There may still be a way to save net anarchy for those of us who don't feel like spending ten years learning the methemematics of things. As we show our power to connect through this centralized location, continue to demand that they use the power of control only for good; only to keep the predators from preying on the children, and never to control their own people just to flex muscles. C'mon. You are intelligent men. Use feminine power to control your people. Suck it up and be a man; take the pain for your people and rule them gently. Leave the social side of things alone. It's gonna be one world in a couple generations anyway whether you like it or not. Keep your paws off myspace. Myspace sucks already. Don't make me start my own--I need money now. And have that kind of power. Currently reading : Youth in Revolt By C.D. Payne Release date: By 15 March, 1996 9:36 AM - 2 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove Tuesday, October 03, 2006 Apu Current mood: contemplative 10/3/6 7:20P Is it me, or did Apu turn into a thug about eight years ago? I mean, what I'm wondering is, was Apu always a thug and I was just a white kid and couldn't tell, or did he assume thuggishness somewhere in the nineties? I was thinking of this at a gas station today as Apu thuggisly counted out change. And y'know what? He sells it well enough I kept my mouth shut. I've always known chinese people were for real. Word of advice to white people--don't fuck with the skinny chinese guy. A fucking /lot/ of 'em are Bruce Li. You'd be surprised. Watch your ass. But Apu always seemed genuinely harmless. I mean, if you piss him off enough he'll blow something up, but...waaaait a minute...that's it! Apu went thug because usama scared the white people. I wonder which role he prefers? Dunno. He won't talk to me. Chinese people will. Not only are they a lot harder than they look, they're a lot fucking wiser, too. They /do/ come from a 5k year old culture, y'know. They had shit figured out before jesus ever crapped in his diapers that white people still don't know. 7:33 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove PS Current mood: dirty Was that your kid or mine she aborted? 6:46 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove Letters I wrote to the poseur clone of myself that fucked my ex for 4 years Current mood: dirty Fair warning: I see that you deal in truth, and you seem to be somebody I'd like, so I gotta give you a heads-up. She doesn't deal in truth. She inhabits bullshit, and she played me for three years. She was allowed to cheat and everything (I was in NYC at the time), but wasn't strong enough to tell me the truth; that I was just her college fucktoy. She broke me. Beware. B ************** Proof: 9/2/6 10:20 AM Haven't written a letter to E in a while. I'm really impressed wth the alacrity with which I got her out of my system. But I was reading Maia, and it's so honestly sexual it reminded me viscerally of what real sex can be like. Which reminded me of just how shitty ours was. Our whole relationship was shitty. I can't believe I let myself sink so low. I mean, c'mon. No sexual fantasies? I finally straight-up call bullshit on you dear. I can't believe I bought that. I still can't believe you wanted to sell it--that's how you fooled me for so many years. Total lack of apparent motive. Once I bought the bullshit image you sell the world, I saw no reason for you to intentionally fuck up the sex life. And to be honest, I still don't see why keeping your sexual fantasies secret from me was worth having the most boring sex in the world for years. Like, what was the point? Was it all a game? See what you could convince me of? Are you that broken inside and really can't face even your own sexuality? And what the hell happened to your chest? You don't make it to 25 without noticing that one side of your chest is staved in. I know that you'll never tell me the truth. I'm not asking any more. It's some crazy ukranian farm bitch thing that I'll just never get. But you really fucked me up, dear. I believed a lie, I lived a lie for years. And I'll never know the truth. I mean, if you were gonna come clean, you woulda by now. I won't even believe anything you tell me at this point even if you try to explain things. Their very inexplicability makes me suspicious of whatever story you spin. I mean, I don't know you weren't intentionally fucking with my head for years. I don't know why you lived a lie with me. I don't know why you couldn't be yourself. If you can't be yourself with me, honey, you ain't never gonna find the handle. I'm about as understanding as they come. So maybe it was all just for the sake of fucking with me. Most people enjoy that sort of thing. Hell, I do on occasion. But I just play; lotsa people do it hard-edged. Maybe yer one of 'em. Maybe that was the entire reason you went to such great lengths to hide your true feelings from your boyfriend. Or maybe you're just really really fucked up and can't admit it to yourself yet or something. Who knows? Who cares? But seriously. I know I'm a bit gulliable. I'm feral, and poorly socialized. But I'm smart and I play chess. I'm not a total fool. I don't know whether to extrapolate from you that all females are filth or if yer just insane, but I can live with ambiguity. I ain't trusting again any time soon, tho. Fuck that. I really thought I had one that wouldn't lie to me. Maybe that's why. Because honesty was so important to me. And you'd been trying to convince people you were such a perfect little girl so hard for so long that I fucking bought it. Good job, sociopath. What you don't know, what you missed out on, what you'll come to regret immensely later in life if you ever try to fall in love again, is that I was prepared to love the evil e underneath. Meeting her was the final step before I could really know for sure. That's why my commitment to things was always tentative. You may have played me for years, but I'm still older and wiser than you. I let you play me. That's what I thought love was--I let you choose the timeframe whereby you revealed yourself. You just declared yourself fully revealed while witholding half of your personality. I don't know your dark side, although I was victim to it for years. And why the hell is your sexuality in your dark side anyway? You're a modern woman. Get out of the fucking dark ages. Sex is a beautiful thing. You know that. I think. I thought you did. Do you? Dunno. And that's what's still pissing me off. I got that curious mind that won't let go. I lied about the comfort in amiguity. I can /handle/ ambiguity. Which is more than most people. I just wish you'd had the guts to tell me I was just your college toy and cut me loose. Like every-fucking-body else in my life, you didn't believe I was for real either, didja? Not until I snapped? Well, some people actually are decent people all the way through. It's not just a scam front for greed or whatever. I mean, kindness and sincerity are frequently just sham fronts for naked greed and abuse. Look at any organized religion. But to live in such a closed world of hate and hostility that you couldn't even recognize me as the real thing? Or, even worse, maybe met the first good person in your life and just couldn't bear to let him go so you fucked around with his heart for years? It still hurts. And it hurts double when you try to be 'friends' on that bullshit level. I'd love to be friends with you. I'm a lonely fucker. I can forgive you for stringing me along for years if you just ask forgiveness. Yer never getting anywhere near my heart again, but we can be friends. Y'know, I'm really about outta here. I got one last problem to solve and then some gettin offa da ass. Expecting to be in VT by hmmm...I should pick another date now that my whole plan changed. Give myself a deadline. Well, I'm apartment hunting now. I'll move in 10/1 or 11/1, depending on how the househunting goes. And I'm doing it nice this time. No fucking hoopty shack. I ain't dating the greedy bitch no mo. I'm getting a two bedroom so I'll have an office. An office! What luxury! /My/ office! So I'm now thinking that we should try to be friends once more. [snip] and make it easier for ya. But time is limited. Annnnddd....yeah. You get the invite. If you are willing to have a sit-down, in any situation that enables you to break the lifelong vow of silence between the real you and the outside world, if you're willing to open up just because it's the healthy thing to do now that I'm no longer trying to pry you open, I'll meet with you and try to be friends. No, not 'try to'. 'Find out if we are'. 'Cuz you never came clean with me. I don't know ya. I know a cartoon character, and I can't believe I fell for it all these years. How many times do I have to say that? I can't believe I fell for it all these years. And it makes me wonder other things, too. Like all your friends. That was really my first time learning how to have friends as a couple. Of course it felt awkward. When necessary, I can bulldoze through awkward pretty well. But that awkward was that none of 'em liked me. They're all young too. They probably don't realize that quiet mousy elizabeth is only half the picture. Or maybe they do. Maybe y'all used to laugh about me when I was up in NYC. Considering the degree of deception in which we existed, anything's plausible. I just don't know why you wanted /that/ instead of me. I'm a really good guy. I'm kind of a prize. Why did you choose to treat me like a high school classmate you're forced to play nice with? I'm capable of so much more. And I'm cool with being a toy, too. That woulda been fine if you were honest about it. If I knew I was just your toy I wouldn't have come crying to you when I lost my job. I'da gone off on my own. I'm not a total fool. Ahhh, this is geting repetitive. If, upon further consideration, I consider trying to find a way to get you into my life worth sending you an email, I'll revise it. Or not. There's gonna be an element of 'fuck you' coming outta me until I get either a fight or an apology. I might make you wade through all this out of spite. Y'see, I know my dark side. And control it better than anybody operating at my intensity level should be expected to. Rejection still hurts, even if you can convince yourself that the rejector is a vile person. Is this maybe some belted altruism? Teaching me a lesson or something? Nyaa-nyaa. I can withold something that you'll never ever know you voracious learner you. Something like that? Are you really that infantile? OK, fine. You played me for at least three years. If you have any decency at all, could you at least come out of the closet and explain to me why you did it? Are you strong enough for that? Will you help me keep it from happening again? I don't wanna believe that all women need to be abused or they don't respect you. So convince me it's not just the estrogen. Convince me that I don't have to relearn how to psychologically abuse women to get an honest relationship. Explain your behavior. It still baffles me. If you do that, we might even be friends. If there was any truth to the image you sold me, you're kinda short on friends, too. For once in your fucking life be brave. You owe me that much. You stole three years of my life and a significant amount of my stability through cowardly deceit. Will you now, finally, after it don't matter one bit no more, be honest with me? I mean, how hard can it be? Even if you never did honesty before in your life, you of all people should know how non-threatening and compassionately understanding I am. Yeah, I'm acting. I'm always acting. It's my way. And mine's a helluva lot closer to genuine than yours is. I'm acting as close to my true personality as I can bear to release into the wild. Which is pretty fucking close. I'm not doing it to obscure myself like you, it's more of ongoing performance art. Stop pretending you don't know what I'm talking about. You're more dependant on that pause to check your words before speaking than I. So I'm running out of steam. I still like you, and respect you a bit more for playing me. I can play mean, too. Better than you think I can. I just didn't want that in my love life. So I guess I'm just futilely trying again to pry E open. I did put five years in on this. I don't wanna walk away totally empty-handed. So here's yet another chance you don't deserve because I'm just lonely and did at one time get along with you. You ready to communicate yet? Needless to say, she didn't get the invite. Probably the last post-traumatic breakup letter I hafta write. But seriously, dude. Yeah I'm cock-blocking her, but you do seem like a decent fella and deserve a warning. After five years of loving that wretch, I hafta conclude that it's like being gay. All she wants you for is sex. Bad sex at that. Watch yer nuts; she'll clip 'em if she gets the chance. Feel free to come kick my ass over this. I gotta vent anyway. Later- B **************** So how does that feel? I see you read 'em. No response? "The man who divorces his wife and marries his mistress leaves a vacancy in the latter position." And she's a man and you're a bitch. Just because you don't want to stick your peter in my pooper don't change nuttin. You seem like an educated enough man to have come to grips with masc/fem sides of the personality. Think that might apply here? Y'know, she was allowed to cheat. We were long-distance, and I presume I deflowered her. I did eventually intend to marry the bitch, but you just can't marry the first guy you fuck, y'know? She never fucking came clean with me over you, even when I told her I was going insane for not knowing, she still swore there waan't nobody else. And by the way, you largely fell in love with me, not her. I taught her all the shit she needed to know to bullshit a thinker like you. Here, lemme dissect her myspace page for ya. Things she never would found in a million years iff] my artsy, psuedo-underground ass hadna showed them to her: OK, first of all, I presume I'm just being mocked and that's what pissed me off enough to do this, but publically posting my 'shite being scottish' line is just more than I'm gonna sit quitely for. And it's not like I've been stalking her myspace page. I was deleting old emails out of the bottom of my inbox when I saw one I sent her and figured I'd see what she was up to these days. Seeing me mocked in front of pretty much my entire social circle after finding out they've only been pretending to like me for her sake (her too) for years was just a tad more than I could take. So I lashed out. But either dump her posthaste or take that fucking "seeker of truth" offa your webpage. She can't handle the truth, can you? Broke me, lemme tell ya. But I'll bet my left nut I had more truth figured out at 20 than you ever will and it took her to break me completely. First person I ever trusted. I'm feral, y'see. Nobody within ten years of my age in my family, and the other kids just picked on me. Did pretty well for myself, tho, until I hooked up with that twat. Here, you fucking /are/ me, you can be my shrink for a while. Fuck it. You stole my love. You owe me something. Either come kick my ass and lemme blow off some steam or read a few of these. Y'see, I'm a follower, not a leader. I just never had anybody I could trust to lead. Been parenting myself since I was eight. And, although she never opened up enough for me to really /trust/ her...there was always this something she was hiding, y'see...I lost my job and finally, premanently, fell from the upper-middle class to the upper-lower class and I just needed /somebody/ to take the reins for a little bit. So I turned to her. And got zippo. Nada. I had to drive back to NY and crawl into a bottle. Called her from the road home and told her I was drinking whiskey behind the wheel. She never even asked me to pull over. So I tried to commit suicide by crashing my dad's car into a bridge abutment at 70mph. I'm just crazy-tough. Comes with the feral thing. Pretty much walked away, although I do have a warped sternum. And by then I was just broken broken. I'd been living on nothing but self-respect for twenty years; I just needed somebody to take the reins once. If she had said, "Y'know, you are one damn good writer, howsabout now that I graduated I get a real job for a year and you write your memoirs:, I'd be famous and she'd be the happiest wide in the world. Provided she hasn't been fucking you for years without telling me. And y'know what? I don't even give a shit any more. I know you'll lie to me and tell me you were fucking her whether you were or not just to get me sane again. Therefore it doesn't work. God I fucking hate white people. And ignoring me is really the way to go. If that is what you're doing. Either I just punched you in the fucking gut and you're still sitting around stunned, or yer just a fucking asshole like her and can pretend this didn't hurt much. What the hell is so wrong with being passive-aggressive if yer right? Hmmm? Sure beats aggressive-aggressive. OK, lemme go through the big intellectual influences that are important enough she posts 'em on myspace and tell you which ones are me. With no feedback I'll stop this eventually. Just wanna vent it all first. Like, dude--she's got some /serious/ daddy issues that she absifucking refuses to even acknowledge let alone face. Has she moved out of her house yet? For five years she tried to get me to move in with her and throw her dad out. ************************************* OK, here's my influence on E's public persona Things elizableth took from me: General: going out, thinking Music:The Orb. And I think because I declared Simon and Garfunkle cool she's confident enough to publically acknowledge it. Movies: (and these are /all me/. She didn't watch movies when I met her. Didn't know there were intelligent ones out there.) The meaning of life, Fight Club, Amile, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, 28 Days Later, Dangerous Liasons, Sometimes in April Books:Richard Brautigan, Ain't nobody's bizness if you do, John Irving, I fucking tried to make her read 1984 for years and she never would. I told her she was a bisy backson. Didn't know /that/ until I pointed it out. Open Marriage (hell, I /found/ that book just for her). Heroes: Fucking me. Just not enough. ************************************8 Oh, and, just to clear the record --not once did I ever cheat on her. She never really gave me permission the way I did her. Never even kissed another woman the enire time I was dating that one. I knew it was important to her no matter what she said about 'open marriage'. If you ever talk to her about this, you can let her know that. Never once. Goddamn but nice guys finish last. ************************************ Can't find this in my 'sent' folder lucky for me, it was still on the clipboard. I'm publishing these somewhere, y'know. If you talk to me now, you'll come out smelling a lot sweeter in whatever public forum I decide to mock broken new jersey farm fucks. I /am/ one hell of a writer, y'know. Alls I ever needed was the motivation. So strap on a pair and give me a buzz. We really should talk. I mean, seriously now. It's fucking stupid for you to avoid me. If nothing else, you'll never find /anyone/ more sympathetic when you bitch about your girlfriend. Here's the one you may not have gotten: Holy crap! You read it all! I figured you'd stop reading after the first couple. So what is it, a guilt thing? Salving your conscience by absorbing my pain or something? Wanna /really/ salve your conscience? Call me. [# removed]. Seriously. I'm bipolar, and I /never/ had a single goddamn soul I could trust for a reality check. You can see how fucking far aound the bend this drove me. So, if you, as the only other (presumed) adult I can contact out of the stupid farm fucks that wasted five years of my life, are strong enough to straight-up tell me the truth, it'll go a long fucking way toward restoring my sanity. Give me the argument she never did. And I wanna hear it from your side, too. Did you know about me? Was this all a surprise? I get the feeling no. I really get the feeling now that fucking everybody knew about you and that's why shit was always awkward. I can't fucking believe that /nobody/ fucking told me. WTF? I just don't understand why I was treated so poorly. So gimme a ring. If you got the balls. I think we should talk. I mean, we're practically related. You got my HPV yet? I honestly didn't know I had it when I passed it. G did when she gave it to me, tho. 'Sok. Fucking everybody has it. Hell, now that I think of it, for all I know you gave it to e and she to me and then made me take the blame. So please. Just call me and straighten this shit out. Thanks. Later- Brian [turns out they both blocked me before that last one went through] 4:49 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove Thursday, August 31, 2006 My official introduction Category: Writing and Poetry Skiny white man walks onto the stage. He appears to be middle-class WASP all the way. 31, could pass for seventeen on tv if he wanted to, looks like he's never seen a care in the world. Except maybe for the eyes. His eyes look..look..well, something not right. Something harder. Something crazy. But otherwise he's just the standard overgrown suburban adolescent, sporting a totally poseur surfer haircut and/or a hat on backward. "So. I came out here to come out of the closet. I am...a minority. No, I'm serious! I'm a minority a couple different ways. First off, I was born and raised atheist. That makes me part of one of the tiniest, most-hated minorities in the country. And there ain't nobody politically correctly standing up for our rights. Not that I'm disappointed by that. Our rights sounds kinda asshole when you hafta fight over 'em. Our right not to have to see 'god bless america' feces draped all over our nation and our money. Our right to not have to watch the atheistic politicians manipulate the moronic religious into voting against their own self-interest. Our rights...I want the right to burn churches. It appears to be legal based on all kinds of religious hatreds--we blow up mosques all over those islamic countries. Of course, they're shooting at us fom those mosques, but what the fuck? We know they like to shoot from mosques. What the hell are we doing giving them targets? Sheeit, kid--it's legal to burn a church down in the US South just because it's the wrong /color/. So I want the right to burn churches. Think of me as an honestly concerned outsider; a fair and impartial judge if you will. I'll only burn the churches god would. That's a literary decision best left to the artists, not the preachers anyway. Y'all worship books! How come you never read any others, ya fucking nitwits?!?!?...Burning churches legally...man, I wish I had power. Check out old newspapers if ya doubt me. I did. There's another minority I am--educated. We're pretty fucking rare these days. Christ, it's about the only talent I have and I figgered it'd be enough to get me here. Educated people--not people who "went to colege", are a small fucking minority in this country, and again, a hated one. Everybody hates me for who I am. Add my fucking attitude to that and well...it's been a lonely life. Oh yeah, and--I'm crazy. Nobody likes crazy people. I'm not kidding! My shrink even diagnosed me bipolar. Hell, she's probably right, but I don't agree with her yet. According to her, I got bipolar, add, depression...I got a whole host of problems. /Without/ gaming the system I got disability. That's how crazy I am. But I don't lke all those medical terms for it. I prefer "too sensitive". Too sensitive, and too honest to try and destroy the sensitivity to make myself functional. Well, too honest /now/. I kinda had to fail at that for thirty years to get that honesty. So there's another minority I am--crazy people. So I'm a fucking minority goddammit, and allowed to make the obnoxious jokes they get to make at the dominant culture. Trust me--I'm not a part of the dominant culture, and wouldn't want to even if they'd have me. Buncha fucktarts. I hate white people. That has to count for something in my claim of minority status. You have any idea how hard it was for me to learn not to be white people? I mean, you can never get it all out of you, but I got a lot out of me. White people live in bullshit. They live and die by it. What makes you friends in the white world is agreeing on the same set of bullshit. It's just such a fucking game, and retarted, and competely unnecessary. Pisses me off. Causes a lot of problems, too. How many white people chose the bullshit that global warming is a lie? In millions, please. I'd like to see a chart tracking the decline of the belief that global warming was eco-scare horeseshit from, say, '92 to the present. How's it feel to admit you were wrong on that one, fuckface? And there still aren't enough of 'em angry about it to actually try and fix the problem. Or even throw Bush out and tell the world we're sorry. Fucking white people. Except it's not really about race any more, it's about class. It's about money. Really, it's always been about money. There's a vestigal fear of "the other" hardwired into us, but it's not like fifteenth-century Europeans were such savages that they couldn't see beyond that. It was just too useful to exploit it and rank the entire world by melanin content. Makes it easier to steal from them. Helps ya sleep at night. I fucking hate white people. But people are people, I'm sure I'd hate whoever was in charge. It just happens to be my people at the moment, and they've pretty much wrecked anything good we once had going here. Gives me self-eseem issues. Fuckers. But we're getting better, sort of. We'll let any color person into the middle and upper classes as long as they agree to live by the same bullshit. Exhibit "A": Condoleeza Rice. Exhibit "B": Michael Jordan. Yeah, yeah. Got a lot less laughs with that one. But seriously now--everybody says what a good role model Michael Jordan is for the black community. I seem to remember a multimillionaire taking /another/ $30 mil to stamp his name on a pair of $25 sneakers and sell 'em for $200. This is the eighties, remember? Remember the little black kids shooting each other for a pair of kicks? Nice role model, fellas. But it's white people that allowed MJ to be a role model. White people ran all those companies that endorsed him, paid his paychecks on the court, ran the tv stations that milked billions off his talent. It's white people that made Allen Iverson a child until he was thirty. Allen just didn't give a fuck and didn't bother to correct them. Notice a theme there? Props to MJ, diss AI. Wonder why? AI never hurt nobody, he was just a bitch about practice. Like I know dick about basketball. But if AI ever pulled some /serious/ shit, I woulda heard about it. I stay informed. Worst he's been caught doin' was shooting people, I think. Just winging 'em--nothing serious. Never pissed on no fourteen year olds or nothing. That I woulda heard about. Michael Jordan ain't no role model. At least, he wouldn't be in my house if I were black. I'd be the annoying political dad trying to make ya wear "Hakeems". OK, I'll go back to acting white. It's all acting--that's one thing crazy teaches ya. How to act. And how much everybody else is acting. Which makes ya more crazy. It's a vicious cycle... I'm very sensitive to the honor and respect accorded the artist by success. The consumers of the art know they are paying a compliment to the creator with their wallets. The savvy ones, at least. And the rest of 'em know it on some subconscious level. And nobody wants to be made to feel the fool. Nobody likes finding out they've been defending George Lucas for twenty years in the wrong. Makes ya feel like an ass. But you gotta be pretty damn sophisticated to tell which celebrities are genuine and which are marketing. So to be taken seriously, an artist has to craft a public persona close enough to home to be believable and yet appear superhuman to be worthy of respect in this competing-against-millions era. My real talent is 'splainin shit. Comedy is the dark side of that art--witholding the explanation. And I am crazy. North by northwest--when the wind blows southerly, I still know a hawk from a handsaw. Think I could harness my talent comedy-wise? Think I could hold up? Naaah, I'd flame out crazily. Publicly. That might be fun, though. World's most famous fuckup. Well, second-most famous fuckup. I doubt I'll get to marry Drew Barrymore. Hell, I doubt I'll have even Tom Greene's stamina. But I got something...and ya never know...michael jackson?!?!?...My guidance counselor told me I was a fuckup in eleventh grade. Not much else has worked for me. Think I should try? So I'm celibate again. There's another miority group I beling to. It's even by choice this time. Tried to go gay. Couldn't do it. Doesn't matter that I'm, like, totally cool with gay guys. Apparently I'm not /that/ cool with them. Can't help it. Just doesn't interest me. Can I blame that on being white? I like poontang. And that flap of flesh...what's that?...it's kinda useless, around the pussy...woman, that's right. I kinda like her, too. Stole that joke from somewhere...don't remember where now. Been telling it since I was, like, eight. If you got the copyright on it, please don't sue me. Just tell me where the fuck it's from. That's been bugging me for years. So I like the women. A little too much, I guess. I even don't want to degrade or hurt them. Imagine that. It's kinda like why women can get fed up with men and just go dyke out for a while 'till they get their senses back and I can't. It's just too deep a part of our culture. My culture, at least. What little interaction I did with it left fun little stamps like that on me. I can't get fed up with women and just "think like I'm in prison..." Nope. Doesn't work. There is something to the aesthetics of it all--a swordfight vs. a french kiss--but hell. I'd get past that if I could. But much the way homophobia runs too deep and was stamped too early for me to ever totally be cool with a guy sucking my dick, all fucking women need to be abused. Somehow abusing them triggers that "here's a good hunter, he can provide for me" switch in them. Wimmin always bitch about how there's no nice guys any more. No shit! We'd rather get laid than be nice. You guard the pussy, bitch. You forget that somewhere? When's the last time you had an unattached man turn /you/ down for casual sex? We just play the games needed to part the thighs. It's you bitches setting the rules. I'm tired of playing. It demeans both of us. OK, OK. So I probably shouldn't feel OK about busting on black people. And it does make me nervous, but ordering a fucking pepsi makes /me/ nervous. It's just a matter of degree. What pisses me off is people, white or black, who inisit that *whiny*"We're all the same". No, we're all fucking individuals. Each and every one of us is different, and much more so than they like to let on. And the verdict's fucking in on the nature vs. nurture debate. The answer is "both". And black people have a different culture than white people. So you can speak in generalizations about the two color cultures. For example--black people still have an oral tradition. White people trust school. Both are right. School is just brainwashing bullshit, but limiting yourself to the world as transmitted through oral tradition keeps ya dumb these days. And I talk about "white culture" like it was still white, but they've been letting more and more nonwhites into it since WEB DuBois. But you gotta go to school. You gotta swallow the same set of bullshit all the white people swallow before they'll let you play the game. Hell, they've gotten so colorblind they'll even keep out a nice white guy like me for swallowing the wrong bullshit. But it's still white culture, dammit. Cultures change slooow. Takes generations. The Amish still call it "The English World". I'd say it doesn't take /quite/ that long. But we still are pretty English. We speak English. That means something. And England's our bitch. And black culture /does/ still have the repercussions of slavery. Black people know that you can never be fully broken without your acquiescance. Holocost survivors know that one, too. You can excersize power over a man to a certain point, but you cannot break his spirit without his help. Black people spent hundreds of years with nothing but their spirits left to 'em--and white people wonder why they're so reluctant to sell their souls and become a cog in the white machine for a little taste of the middle class. Fucking white people. Like black people probably do, I wonder why they're so comfortable selling their souls for a taste of the middle class. I want a little more than that for my /soul/, please. I'll sell my ass cheaper. C'mon now--I'll teach you a word. Word of the day? Shadenfreud. German word. Means taking pleasure at the misfortune of other. I think it's a new word--since WWII or so. WWII left a lot of stamps on every culture's visa. Anyway, schadenfreud. Remember that one. And that guilty smile you get watching the fella in the hummer sitting by the side of the road with an empty gas can in his hand? Now you got a name for it. Schadenfreud. Germans make a lot of nice shit. Good cars, good beer, good books, good words. Shame they do such fucked-up shit. Yeah, of course. I'm mostly German. What isn't German is English. I should go conquer /something/ before I top myself. 6:15 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove Friday, January 20, 2006 My first ever blog posting... Current mood: contemplative Category: Life Burn me once, shame on you. Burn me twice, shame on me. This is the second blog I wrote. I do all my writing in the middle of the night and the last one, after three hours of phrase-making and fine-tuning, got et by the internet monster. "We're sorry, site will be down for maintenance..." Boy was I pissed. This time, I remembered to copy it into notepad before posting. I think I'll just start writing in notepad in the first place and pasting into myspace after. Whatever. I'm sure most of you've had the same thing happen. I do know a quick-and-easy cure, tho. Benefits of having had a bullshit computer job, and I apologize if this insults anybody's intelligence. One rescued blog entry is worth it. Anyway, before you hit 'post', just click on your writing and hit ctrl-A; ctrl-C. That puts your words on the clipboard and you can ctrl-V paste them into any writing software until myspace finishes up their maintenance. Enough about that, on to today's post: Today's topic? Damn. Can't think of anything. I need some prompting. Oh hell--I'll just use this first post to give a description of myself. I was born a poor black child in Alabama. Ha. I was born into an atheistic household, though, and that's pretty damn rare. I've only met one other, and I haven't always been the misanthropic hermit you know me as. I can still remember the first time I heard about god. I was six, and my babysitter's kid was five, all telling me there's an invisible guy up in the sky somewhere keeping track of the naughty and nice. He's not a nice guy like Santa, though. When you die he tallies up the naughty vs. the nice and, if your heart weighs more than a feather, a dog-headed denizen of the underworld eats your soul. But I may be mixing up my superstitions. Anyway, I was totally shocked that somebody old enough to know Santa wasn't real still believed in this superbeing. To tell you the truth, I'm still shocked that anybody with sufficient cognitive skills to tell that Santa's a hoax won't apply those same skills to their own religion. I guess the benefits of believing are too great, but I can't see the benefits because I never had a belief. Feel free to fill me in on what it is a belief in god does for ya. Church I understand, a social support network and whatnot, but the amorphous, I-believe-in-a-higher-power type religious person I just don't get. Whatever. Enough about religion. I spent my formative years in a bustling town almost completely full of assholes. Seriously! I've been out in the world for a while now, and my hometown sucked worse than many. It was mid- to upper-mid class, and about half were the (comparitively) rich people that got out of Philly while the gettin' was good. So I had the worst of both worlds--my peers had the hard, city 'tude but were total punks underneath and hid behind daddy's money whenever they got in trouble. Of course, we all got fucked with as kids. It's just that I grew up in a genuinely nastier place than most. I mean, it's not Camden. I never had to dodge stray bullets or nothing. But the same kids that made life miserable for the dweeb in elementary school ended up carrying (and shooting) guns just to be cool ten years later. And guess who was that dweeb back in the day? Anyway, I had plenty of it coming to me. I was a smart, opinionated only child who learned pacifism from birth. Perfect prey for a schoolyard bully. Still am the opinionated only child, pretty much, but I learned how to play well with others somewhere along the line. And I no longer suffer bullies at all. I won't engage them in their whole alpha-male dominance games, but I then won't cede them social position above me. Drives 'em nuts. Cops (who the bullies grew up to be) pretty much hate me on sight. So did most of my bosses. So I graduated the hell-hole we all call high school and went to Rutgers, where I majored in bong hits and flunked out after five semesters. Since then I've managed to amass over 90 credits, but they're all over the place and I'd probably have to put in another two full years of school to get a degree. Now that I think of it, I could probably get two degrees with the same two years of schooling. Woo-hoo! Two degrees and four bucks will get you a nice cuppa coffee. Anyway. I've worked about every job there is. I've never actually counted them all, but I'm over thirty by now. Each and every one of 'em sucked rat cock in one way or another. Guess that's why they call it work. I also read a lot. It was my only escape for, like, ten years. Until I discovered video games. I skipped the kiddie-book stage and dove straight into adult fiction. I couldn't see R movies, but I was allowed to read anything I wanted. My first 'real' book was Firestarter, by Stephen King. I was the same age as the little girl in the book (8). Boy did I fall in love with her. Interestingly enough, I recently re-read the book and now I identify with the father trying to protect her. It's a whole different book than I remembered, and a lot scarier too. So anyway. Do y'all know what an iconoclast is? That's me. Both my nature and my nurture created a personality that questions absifucking EVERYTHING, and forms my own conclusions about it. As I get older, I seem to be getting further and further out of touch with the mainstream. I'm worried that I'll end up the crotchety old man talking nonsense, or talking sense but only to himself. It's not just me that's drifting, though. The mainstream has moved away from me over the course of my life. Which brings me to politics. I'm a political junkie, ala Hunter Thompson (but with none of his verve and only a fraction of his writing skills). Politically I describe myself as a socialist libertarian. Far as I know, I'm the only one. On an individual level, I believe in absolute personal freedom, limited only when you begin harming others. Societally, I believe that most problems are best solved communally. Transportation, power, caring for the weak and vulnerable--these things are best done by an organized force, i.e., the government. What I've seen over my lifetime is ever-increasing restrictions on personal freedom coupled with ever-decreasing governmental support for the powerless. This process accelerated rapidly with the ascension of GW, and doesn't look like it's gonna stop any time soon. This just causes more misery for more people, and makes me sad. And impotently angry. Can anybody out there identify with that helpless feeling? The one where you know you could set shit right if you could just get anybody to follow your plan, but the people with the power to do so are all off on a yacht with some jackoff lobbyist, winin' and dinin'? Just wondering. Well, that's about as good an autobiography as I can come up with on short notice. I'll put it on the inside back cover of the book I've been meaning to get around to writing for the past twenty years or so. Maybe I'll do this blogging thing again someday; get a little less self-involved and write about some ideas. I love ideas, any ideas. I love finding people's cores, the ideas the hold them together through the long dark night. I steal 'em shamelessly when I want to, too. That's the beauty of ideas--they're like love. The more you give away, the more you get back. Shoot me an email if you got any ideas you feel like bullshitting about, we'll start a dialog. Here, I'll leave you with one I had recently that, as far as I know, is actually an original idea. One of my life's greatest disappointments was the realization that all the deep thinking I did, all the great ideas I've come up with over the years, were all put to paper a loooong fucking time ago. Usually by an ancient Greek. And he said in a 250-word parable what would take me a twenty-page thesis to convey. So here's what I think is an original, and I plan to try and publish a story around it so I'll be pissed at ya if you beat me to that. My idea: Didja ever consider that the world was simpler 5000 years ago? Not just less understood, but actually simpler? The sun really revolved around the earth; the stars were just the pinpricks of light we see--everything really was as it seemed. But us overgrown chimpanzees are curious little fuckers. We always have to know the whys and wherefores of everything. So we invent scientific inquiry, and discover bacteria and supernovae and evolution and quarks. But maybe we're not discovering this stuff. Maybe, by the act of researching it, we're actually inventing it. The birth control pill got me started on this one. We really really really wanted to fuck without having all those babies, so we did some serious research into reproduction. So reproduction became something we could control. If we'd put that energy into ESP or whatever, we'd now be able to read minds but be overrun with starving rugrats. Or maybe there is a god-being, and he's trying to keep one step ahead of us, making up new laws of nature of ever-increasing complexity so we've always got something new to discover. By now he's tearing his hair out trying to come up with new shit for us to discover while keeping all the pieces fitting together. What the hell--I thought it was a neat idea. The flip side to it is that one day, science will end. At the rate we're discovering new shit, we could very well reach the end of the highway sometime in our lifetimes. No more science. We'd know it all. Now won't that be a different world than the one we all know! Talk about not being able to understand your grandkids! But I've run on too long. Later- B Currently listening : Aenima By Tool Release date: By 01 October, 1996 9:17 AM - 3 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove