"Best Friendship"

I desperately don't want to talk to anyone about this and I'm unnecessarily on the edge for it being 3:47 in the morning. I hope this doesn't last long, but here goes. I think a dramatically important aspect to best-friendship is for there to be mutual love and respect. I think best friends should rarely find it within themselves to be really mad at each other. I consider myself to be a person who has a few best friends, in the sense that I have several people in my life who are in tune with a lot of different facets of who I am as a person and who comfortably understand me, to a greater or lesser extent beyond perfectly. Since I consider this the case, I also think that if and when circumstances present themselves wherein one friend has to tell the other friend how much of an asshole they are being, that should be appropriate. I shouldn't be getting mad at my own "best friend," who rarely listens to what I say unless the time or situation suits him, anyway, but here I am, sitting in my bedroom, wishing I could calm myself down. All I wanted from him was a response. I wanted a lot of other things from him too, but when it really comes down to it, all I wanted was some engagement in a conversation. I want this kid to realize that everything can't always happen on his terms and that some times things need to happen my way, you know, to create the distinction between democracy and fascism. They rarely if ever do, but I feel like give and take should be a fundamental part of any relationship, be it societal, private, public, or what have you. I've had this exact conversation with this kid many times trying to explain to him that I matter in this friendship, but it never really does anything. So. Once I get what I want from him, which is less ideological and more physical (i.e. he has a whole bunch of illegal substances that I've paid for already and thus really would wish to have in my possession), I'm just going to ignore most of what he says. Under regular circumstances I would only propose this idea in theory. The unfortunate nature of this friendship now is that he doesn't really want to listen to what I have to say anyway and he is becoming someone that I no longer see myself as and therefore don't really want to inundate myself with. So. Dude. If you're reading this, just talk to me. That's really all I want. Otherwise, take the next seven days of me being non responsive as an opportunity to go fuck yourself because you truly bum me out. I hope this is read and done so seriously. I'm unhappy about this. I'm in a blissful and peaceful state of mind about every other aspect of my life at the moment, so this bothering me is doing so to an extent I can't honestly deal with at this juncture. Goodnight. Peace.

Update. As per most issues: in the morning when I woke, I was at peace. It will still continue to bother me when it inevitably happens again. But for the moment all is well.

Women: The Key to Peace

The common and stereotyped perception of women is, well, fucking weird. We put women on such a pristine pedestal that the idea of them farting or pooping (both naturally, biologically inevitable actions) is seen to be gross. The idea of these two actions is seen to be vulgar and therefore synonymous with man. Women aren't even allowed to be sexually promiscuous. But let's consider this shall we? Men treat sex like a game and brag about the amount of women they've slept with. When this is done, they are either celebrated or joked about it a playful manner. When a woman does this, be it in mass, in the media, or just a down home girl having a one-night-stand, girls are immediately seen to be slutty, whores, or worthless for letting their bodies be taken advantage of. I'm not a girl/woman/lady/chick so I can't really speak to how them lady folk think about this, but there is no way this perception is fair. We have this idea that women are only supposed to use their bodies for what is biologically necessary and that if they don't they would be better served as social pariahs to be immediately ostracized. I genuinely don't understand why people, be them male or female, can't simply fuck whomever they want to fuck once, twice, thrice, fifty times, or not, and have that simply be this person's business and if it does become public information, why the quick, simple & immediate response can't just be, "Sure, okay, whatever." or "Shit, I haven't gotten laid since Wednesday, good for them." We live in a time largely obscured by values that don't make any sense but everyone subscribes to them because they are popular. Popularity said, I hope my opinion about this isn't misconstrued into one that I'm only joining in on because it's "out of the mainstream" or whatever subcultural, hipster bullshit the internet places people like me into because I'm not suddenly accepting this philosophy, I just want to talk about it. Guys can so easily get away with talking about the amount of women they've made victim to they're predatorial little game to the extent of simple and easy conversational dismissal, but if a woman were ever to do such a blasphemous thing, she is, and would be immediately, labeled as a fucking (and yes, the inflection on the word fucking is necessary as it implies disgust, frustration, and rage that a member of this angelic, untouchable gender would ever even consider, let alone follow through with, such a deviant act) slut/hussie/whore/slag. Girls aren't even allowed to stand up for themselves without having large groups of men saying, "Just fucking calm down for two seconds will you?" Telling women that they truly have the same rights as men is like saying that racism has been over and done with since slavery became illegalized. All because something is the law, doesn't make it the socially popular, acceptable option, or even a remotely accurate descriptor of the truth. You're not supposed to drive over the speed limit, or drink underage, or download movies, tv shows and music of the internet, or smoke weed every day, or take LSD, or snort cocaine, or inject heroin, or throw your cats and dogs out of a moving vehicle in a fucking paper bag, or threaten bank tellers with pistols or smoothly murder people and bury them in 50 gallon drums of cement or in your backyard, but all of that shit happens all the time. Seriously. All the time. Just because it is the law and it is the social norm, doesn't mean self-important men, and therefore self-important societal groups (i.e. almost all of them that aren't women) should be able to place themselves on a daily/weekly/monthly/yearly/lifely basis on a hierarchically superior level than women just because they have a penis. And let's face it, all of the people being assholes, are mostly those with penises. I've been provoked by something over the past three months: I've lived with three dudes who want to put women, queers, and blacks, on an island: then blow the island up. Because according to these lovely gentlemen (who confidently talk about the stupid bitches that they fuck on a biweekly basis) these people are inferior and try to use "science" as their backing argument. Women have a smaller brain and are emotionally unstable, shouldn't be treated with respect, shouldn't be worried, concerned about, or helped, and serve no other arguable purpose other than sucking on our shaft and making our babies if and whenever we feel like having them. What gems the majority of males my age are. What fucking gems. The previous may seem like nonsense, but these fucking people exist and by the state-loads. This writing is starting to agitate me, and this is only one issue about the dissolution that exists around woman's civil rights. To wrap up: on the grand scheme, obviously none of this shit matters. Based on all of my other writings, you understand that. But while we're here, let's not subscribe to delusions. Honestly: if more people empathized with women, the world would be a more peaceful place and people wouldn't be getting laid, more honestly, people would be making casual and true love. Imagine a world where love is supplied casually and not put on the same pedestal as women are today. When guys had sex with girls, they wouldn't fuck them. Rather, they would hold them and spiritually and ideologically become one with them. Even if it was only for a night, or even a moment. Seriously. As a simple solution to all of the world's problems, I think that if guys kissed, caressed, nurtured, and held women deeply in their bodies and minds during sex, much to the point where they felt to be a single, homogenous being with them, the world would become the definition of the word peace: if the rest of the world enjoyed this part of having sex and searched/participated in it as much as I do my best to...just..imagine that world. Seriously. Think about it.

The Trichotomy of Conversation

There is an unfortunate trichotomy as far as genuine conversations with people are concerned. First, people who have enough intelligent things to say, a great pondering of the universe, life and its many facets, etc and a complicated enough imagination to say these things to another person rarely meet each other, due to there being few of them. Second: conversation is a dialogue and not a monologue; high voltage personalities usually monopolize on an opportunity to tell another person what they think about things. Third: Mutual interest in the direction, composition, and participants of the conversation is of the utmost importance.

Reality is Dystopia

If I could somehow go back to my home town and not have to see any of my friends, that would be incredible. Having to see how everyone is probably exactly the same and be reminded how much about so many people I simply don't care about, is a thought that depresses my entire being. All I want to do is continue to explore and be purposefully and perpetually isolated from people. Having to leave this beautiful mindset and return to the dystopia that is my other life is a reality I cannot and refuse to cope with at the moment. I realize writing this is perhaps haste honesty, but I desperately don't want to see any of the people who knew me before this trip. I couldn't be more certain about that. I've become far too comfortable being away from them and I wish to never re-experience my previous self. A return home is an ideological death befitting a person with rugged and tougher mental stamina than I. Considering the resulting subsequence is staggering and borderline torturous, as I imagine the reality of the matter will be in three days.

A Willing Plane Ride From Utopia to Dystopia

I was about to send a tweet to all the people I know about this, but I figured that I'm only going to use twitter for happy, positive, funny things from now on so I will omit it from there and explain my thoughts here instead. The greatest part about being in Sydney is that I don't have to put up a facade in front of people. Everyone here seems to understand who I am and they respect that, hopefully, probably, maybe. The thing about going home that disappoints me the most is that I've been gone from that pretend self for so long that going back to these people and their pointless fucking conversations seems completely fruitless and a total waste of my time. When I get back home the only thing I'm going to want to do is leave immediately. I haven't seen anyone I know or care about in a little over three months and I honestly don't care. I could continue to live here forever and remain detached from everything and everyone and simply live my life. When I return home, I'm going to be content to simply listen to music, read books and talk to my parents and my one or two close friends. Everyone else is growing into these people that I just don't want anything do to with. When I return, my presence is going to be a novelty and a lot of people are going to pester me about being around. When they notice that I've grown even more indifferent about them and even more interested in my own business and the business of universal matters, they're going to do the same damn thing they've been doing for years: go talk to someone else and leave me standing in a crowded room, all by myself. At the beginning of this semester people were confused who I was and why I was this person who spent all of his time exploring this novel city by himself and yet they quickly grew accustomed to this because that is simply who I am. When I get home everyone is going to have their preconceived idea of me and they'll want that to continue. Basically I'm just going to want to avoid everyone because I don't want to see anyone. I want to see my brother, my mother, my father, and two of my friends at the most. To everyone else: Sorry, I'm busy ignoring your fake friendship.

Everything, I Suppose

I have a few things I want to write down because of the following: I'm having a weird day inside my own head, definitely no one in Australia or America wants to hear this, definitely I don't want to talk to any person I know in either country and because I occasionally feel like I'm loosing my mind and that I'm dying inside. Democracy is illusory. Morals are a human construct. Truth is relative. Death is the most significant thing about life, without it, life would be meaningless, though one could argue that life is meaningless nonetheless. I have recently come to terms with the fact that some day I am going to die and that I do not fear that day. In the words of Chuck Palahniuk, "You have to know, not fear, know that someday you are going to die. Until you know that, you are useless." I've also been coming to terms with the fact that life and all of its implications are essentially without meaning and that nothing that ever happens to anyone, at any point, under any circumstance really matters. There will of course always be feeling behind all of this, but that doesn't give it meaning on a grand scale. I was having a difficult conversation with my roommate last night after a couple hours of laughing hysterically about random, silly shit. He brought it to my attention that al qaeda recently shot a fourteen-year-old girl in the head for speaking out against them and their current views regarding women's rights. This is obviously terrible. But. Regarding what I was just talking about, this is ultimately meaningless. Sure, sure, sure, people shouldn't be shooting fourteen year olds in the head, but it doesn't matter. I read an interesting quote regarding a concept often referred to as moral nihilism, which blew my mind because apparently there is a concept that completely describes my philosophy of life, "A moral nihilist would say that killing someone, for whatever reason, is neither inherently right nor inherently wrong. Moral nihilists consider morality to be constructed, a complex set of rules and recommendations that may give a psychological, social, or economical advantage to its adherents, but is otherwise without universal or even relative truth in any sense." It is for reasons like this that I'm finding it increasingly difficult to pay any sort of attention to classes now, moreso than the "not at all" that I cared before. Essentially no classes that I'm taking actually benefit me in any way whatsoever, on a universal scale. I realize that I'm not supposed to think about my short life in terms of universalism, but upon this revelation that has been growing and brewing inside of me for quite some time now, I can't help but obsess over it. It plagues me. It has made me quite vulnerable because knowing that there is no objective purpose to anything that I or anyone else does gives me no motivation to do anything outside of things that I perpetually enjoy and that I feel connect me to a greater, a meta understanding: reading, listening to music, considering philosophies. If I can say something regarding the benefits of this for me, it is that whenever any ethical or moral conversation or debate comes up in class, I know what my feelings on it are going to be. I truly don't care about things now. Before I just kept telling myself that I didn't, but if you say something to yourself enough, it becomes true, and I really feel that way now. Its terrible, yet somehow blissful. When I think beyond myself, I become anxious. When I think only in terms of this philosophy in how in relates specifically to me, I become at peace. I become tranquil. I become happy. Love. End.

A Night of Emotional Shambles

Foreword: I wrote this at the end of summer, two months, minus a day, ago. I'm in Australia now which means I'm far enough away from everyone and from the situation that I'm surely the only person that is going to know what I'm talking about anyway so I'm here again to post it. I rather enjoyed this writing, specifically what I briefly had to say about my group of friends. I think shea butter will appreciate it quite a bit. Enjoy.

okay. i just came back to my computer quite swiftly (lies) after leaving my friend's house where there were other friends, you know how this goes. It quickly came to my attention that I likely won't be seeing some of these people for some time, possibly four months or so. This was immediately followed by my recollection that I hadn't really seen most of these people in quite some time anyway, it being the summertime, and this being a collection of people rather interested in being with each other, yet which inadvertently almost never seeks such pleasure for reasons one may never be truly sure of (I of course include myself in this "collection," regretfully), and we being a group of emotionally, sexually, spiritually, physiologically, and mentally frustrated people, and all. Anyway, the reason I rushed home, or whatever it was that I did, was that I suddenly became overcome with sadness at the realization that I hadn't been appreciating some one who I've always really enjoyed. I realized this as I was saying goodbye to them. At first it didn't really seem like an issue given the fact that we hadn't gone out of our way to hangout with each other all summer. But the realization came when as we were leaving she looked at me, started oddly smiling and said, " I feel like I need to hug you again." (Side note, I don't really know how to explain why, but being so specific makes me feel very strange. If I knew more about the psychology of the brain, I would, but I don't, so I won't. I digress.) I realized that I was going to miss this person on a fundamental level, i.e. there is something in her inherent nature that makes me feel like she understands me; like she is one of the few people who are very intuitive of the system by which people intrinsically operate (another category I place myself in, gleefully yet painfully). I felt so upset because I spend so much time not really giving a shit about most people and maybe what I should be doing is just appreciate where I am and who I am around. Shit. Even as I write that I know my true self doesn't wholly believe that. I don't like a lot of people, innately haha be honest. This specific person though. The look in her eye devastated me. The thought of me being somebody that she seemed to care a decent amount about (I can't even hypothesize or speculate a higher amount than "decent," that's how much I don't have any conception of what people think of me) had never crossed my mind so when it hit me, my body was overcome with this sadness and I have no idea what to do about it. It happens so rarely that something affects me like this and when my body is in an emotionally and physiologically unsettling state I'm never quite sure how to help myself. So here I am after running red lights to get here or picking lilies in the meadow or bowling with the Dude or singing to Danish children while they wait for the bus, I suppose I'm just trying to get all of my thoughts down before I sleep and forget everything that was flowing through me and how strange I feel/felt/may likely feel again. I'm going to stop now because emotion cannot be explained in short, snippy concluding sentences, it can however be interpreted via everything written above. End. Friday August 10, 2012, 1:47am. Began approximately an hour ago, maybe forty-five minutes ago, one can't be too sure. I'm gonna go snack.. and distract an attacking Barack while the fluffy man boasts of choking artichoke's throats with coats around scruffy tan blokes. No jokes. Don't snuff cokes. That stuff is carbonated man, you don't wanna do that. 2:05am I likely won't post this for a while because I still feel quite weird, again for reasons I deeply cannot explain, but I'll put it off no less. I'll just forget about it for a couple months and see what happens. Or you'll be reading this in a few days. 2:07am. :08. Goodnight.

Stoned Social Situations and Duel Massages

I’m in Australia. My brother gave me a notebook to write in so I’ve been writing in there more often than not, so allow me to talk about something that has been particularly bothering me. It is only one thing, but it is a pretty large issue. When I get stoned I talk even less than I already do. When the majority of the people I know get stoned, they talk even more than usual. I’ve already gotten stoned with people on this trip three times and three times my body has started shaking uncontrollably from being wildly uncomfortable. Often times a conversation is proposed and I listen for while occasionally even having something to say, but usually just saying nothing for up to an hour. Other people just have so much nonsense they want to talk about so I just listen and watch them spew their personalities all over the walls. My only contribution to the wall is my hypothetical and imaginary blood that sprays out of one’s head, post-point blank shot. My willingness to truly express myself and unload whatever is in my head, even if for the simple sake of conversation is seldom and relies entirely on the people involved and how stoned I may or may not be. I’ll give you a few examples of negatives and positives since I’ve been here. The negatives are both when I was stoned, yet interestingly not really relevant (the being stoned part: the story itself is wholly relevant). The first was with this faux-hippie dude named Weston and a faux-thug white dude from the illusory hood named Cillian. The notable conversations here are twofold: First was on our way home from picking up the Buddha cheddar. Cillian brought up that he would rather live in a dictatorship because he is jealous of people in the army, but wouldn’t join willingly. He thinks of it in the sense that he would be more open to trying really hard if it weren’t an option and he was forced. I just laughed at the kid this whole time, because it was some of the stupidest psychobabble I’ve ever heard. You wouldn’t want to be in the army if you were forced and you’d no longer be jealous of those who are, because everyone would be. Weston was agreeing with me the whole time, which was healthy. The kid is a dumbass; let’s move on. The next time was just me and Weston getting stoned, this was two nights ago. In the past the two of us had talked about music and I’ve told him that I don’t really like dubstep, so for whatever reason he started playing deadmou5 and bassnectar. The deadmou5 song wasn’t really dubsteppy, so I was fine with it, it was more minimal, funky electronic music. But then he put on this bassnectar song and started getting so fucking excited about the song and that he is going to see bassnectar in a couple months and he kept looking at me with the eyes of, oh you agree with me so I’ll keep getting excited, so I shut that shit down. After me not really saying anything for a really long time, maybe around half an hour, I said dude, this is just where the two of us disagree. I really don’t like dubstep. I’m sorry. I can’t stand the noise. This is the kind of music I was trying to explain to you earlier. I just really don’t like it. I could’ve been more honest. I could’ve looked the dude dead in the eyes and said, please for the love of all of us with ears, stop playing that dreadful “music,” I hate it more than I dislike country music. He said he appreciated my honesty, but he might just be full of it. We agree on a lot of other things, but I don’t really even like people who like dubstep. There is something fundamentally wrong with it. Now, the positive experience. This is fucking strange. But. Let me just tell you. I’d known all of these people for about two weeks when this happened. Last Sunday I was invited over to dinner at one of the girls’ apartments for tacos. I helped cook and set the table and provided commentary to get them laughing and we ate and we prayed (yeah) and we watched Friends and we laughed and we talked and we laughed and they got silly and then everyone left and it was just me and these two girls. They invited me into their room so that I could say thanks, goodnight, and goodbye. Eventually I ended up sitting down on the bed facing the middle of the room and the other girl’s bed writing her part of a paper about pro-choice. These two girls, who are best friends, were laying on top of each other at this point. Not making out or anything dream-scenario like that, just giggling and being silly. I finished the paper, the light turned off and I was offered to lay in the middle of the two of them on the now singular bed that they pushed them together for the sake of convenience. I joined, naturally, and before I knew it the two of them were lying on their stomachs and I was giving them a simultaneous back rub and speaking honestly to them about who I am, what I’ve done, what I really think of other people on the program, and so on, without any restraint. I just felt comfortable with these girls. The situation likely stimulated that, but I was comfortable nonetheless. The funniest and strangest part about this whole thing is that I barely saw them this whole week and I don’t think I talked to one of them at all, even after seeing and making eye contact with them. I mean, I told them that it would be best if we kept what happened to ourselves, not that we fucked or anything, but I don’t need to hear about this from any of these dudes and be mocked or generally made fun of so I figured discretion is best. That said, I did agree to go out with them this weekend, which I’m a bit concerned about, but for all I know, we’ll all get back to their room and be a little drunk and fool around a bit. Or they’ll hook up with other people, I’ll be the sober dude around, and I will have officially been friend-zoned. Let me bring this back to where I started. Social situations stress me out a lot, often to the point of complete silence. I just realized that dictatorship story doesn’t really have anything to do with anything, but its there, so enjoy I suppose. I’m genuinely curious of what these people think of me, if any of them like me, and what girls, if any, are even remotely attracted to me. I always assume none, because that usually seems to hold the most truth. I should just go out and get drunk and see what happens, as much as I really don’t want to do that. Aside from all of the shit I just said, being here is allowing me to experience peace and chaos at the same time. I live my day in something of a dichotomy of the mind. Simultaneously half-full and half-empty. I’m free. See you on the other side. Peace. Love. Enjoy. End.

Suicide with a foreword by Forgetting Sarah Marshall

I'm currently watching Forgetting Sarah Marshall with my mom and FX has cut out most of the funny material in this movie, specifically any and all scenes including or hinting at the word "fuck." They've turned the word asshole into rascal twice now, which frankly I think is hilarious. Basically you're only getting context for the movie and no real jokes. It's significantly less interesting without seeing boobies, too. This is beside the point though. Let's talk about suicide shall we? We put a lot of unnecessary value on human life. We need to keep in mind that we are animals and there are literally more than seven billion of us. Other animals don't freak out when one of their kind dies because animals are committed to adaptation. I'm not saying that we shouldn't be upset when another human dies or when a human kills themselves. What I'm saying is that it isn't our place to tell others not to kill themselves. That is total bullshit. Telling someone who doesn't see the point in living any more isn't going to be convinced to keep on living because they'll be living for other people and not for themselves and that is nonsense. Telling someone to not kill themselves is selfish. I mean, sure, killing yourself is the ultimate selfish deed, but verbally or physically forcing someone to stay alive so that you don't have to be sad and cope with something extremely difficult even if it means that they have to continue to be depressed, is one of the most fucked up things I've ever even sort of participated in. Personally, I would never kill myself. I value the statistical unlikelihood of my existence. But given that unlikelihood, my existence is ultimately irrelevant. But if another person doesn't realize that the fact that they even exist is totally ridiculous, then far be it from me to tell them the value in their life. Sure, I wish they would realize the significance of their life, that they can do literally anything with it, that once you're dead, you're fucking dead, that the pain won't end because you'll be in a state of eternal nothingness, a state the human mind can't even process, because if it could it would cease to be alive (the circle continues), you won't feel better because you won't feel anything. 'You' will no longer be an idea outside the minds of those that were close to you. Alas, these people may never figure that out and you understand the concept behind death so I'll wrap up. Don't tell people what to do. Let them live their lives, even if that means ending it. But hey, if you can show them reason, then you will have given that person a beautiful thing, otherwise, get off your golden pedestal you sanctimonious butt holes.

The Future

I'm terrified by the prospect of the future. Not so much in the personal sense, but in the global sense. Wherever I end up is where I'll end up. I'll deal with that shit when it happens to me. It's the rest of the world that scares me out of my wits. Think of how much everything has changed from when our parents were our age. Think of how much has even changed in our own life time. I'm not just talking about having a black president because I don't hold pointless reservations about things like that because they don't matter. I'm talking about the technology that is being created and how it is doing so exponentially. Cars start with the push of a button and can park themselves. The same cars will operate themselves if it thinks you're doing something wrong. I don't know a single person who doesn't have a computer or a cell phone. People don't read books anymore, they read lights on a thing. Essentially any piece of information you would ever want to know, is on the internet. Most sense of secrecy is completely gone because of websites like facebook and twitter (and this one, frankly). I've heard of more than one personal story from people who have called the police because they thought their friend had died after not responding to texts and phone calls in under a 24 hour period. There are cameras in front of most businesses, stores, some residences, etc. Children play less and less with toys and more and more with their parents' ipad because they're too lazy to actually raise them and put in effort (a different issue, granted, but my point still stands). We rely on technology to operate almost every aspect of our lives and most people have little to absolutely no idea how to fix it, how it operates, how to make it function properly, etc. I see commercials advertising a piece of whatever and it scares the shit out of me. I can't imagine a future with back to the future style hover boards, which probably already exist, and jet packs and teleportation because the future seems unmistakably dystopian and borderline Orwellian. I'm going to stop writing about my feelings and live my life, which in this case means getting stoned, because I don't know how to deal with my problems. That said, my fears about the future can't be repressed or dealt with by anything other than time so I suppose I shouldn't dwell on them. It's just very unnerving. If I can learn to be happy outside of what other's perceive as reality then I can be happy. I believe that is possible. The future may as well be what I make it. There you go, a little sip of optimism in my sea of doubt, cynicism, and pessimism. End.

edit. august 22 2012 9:46pm. When I said "I'm not just talking about having a black president because I don't hold pointless reservations about things like that because they don't matter," I don't mean that I'm upset that we have a black president, I'm saying that the idea that having a black president is so important that I have to put the word black in front of president is stupid because biologically, fundamentally, we're all the same. I understand its significance in a global and historical context and can certainly appreciate that, but my point is that we could have a homosexual, jewish, sort of mexican looking woman as our president and I wouldn't give a shit. We could have another string of old white men too. These things don't matter, they're just details.

Top Four Albums of 2012 Thus Far and a Side Note

I'm in a good mood, I never do anything like this, and I'm on my eighth hour of music for today, so let's get started. As far as my opinion goes, here are the contenders for the best albums of 2012 thus far: Chromatics' Kill For Love, Grimes' Visions, Rhye's Open ep, and Vacationer's Gone. All four of these albums, first of all, are completely different than each other, and second of all they're all incredible albums in their own ways. Kill For Love is an epic, cinematic beauty of an album. Listening to Ruth Radelet's ethereal voice placed in its natural aural element makes me feel like I'm on the verge of tears. Visions is sort of post-internet synthy, witchy, dream pop. It doesn't hurt that Claire (Grimes) is one of the coolest chicks on the scene. Seriously, go watch her perform and in interviews, you'll want to be her best friend; she's awesome. Rhye's Open ep sort of came out of nowhere. I saw the video for titular track Open and I had to find out what this came from. I still have no idea who exactly composes the music for Rhye, but this ep - half original tracks, half instrumentals of those tracks - deserves far more recognition than it has received. Gone's awesomeness fell serendipitously into my lap via going to see The Asteroids Galaxy Tour at the 7th Street Entry in Minneapolis a few months ago. Vacationer opened for them and I couldn't have asked for a better opener than Vacationer. They had the crowd grooving and at one point they covered DOM's Jesus and I just about lost it because it was so incredibly smooth.

Side note. I've been listening to Chromatics so much recently that I feel like they're a part of me. Whenever I put on one of their songs that I've been listening to I genuinely feel like I'm about to cry and it seems like I don't know why. I first listened to Night Drive a few months ago and I was startled by how much I enjoyed it. I then realized two things: That they were going to be playing the Pitchfork Music Festival, of which they were a late addition to, and that they had apparently just released an album in April called Kill For Love after not releasing a full length in five years. I promptly downloaded and listened to the 17-track album five or six times before I started doing research on the band. Apparently the current leading producer of the band, Johnny Jewel, enjoys mastering several versions of albums so as to manipulate them in the future. Well, a few weeks later in April, the band released a free album called DRUMLESS, with eleven tracks off of Kill For Love, stripped of the drums. I of course downloaded it immediately and couldn't help but sink into the perfectly different atmosphere it created. Now to today. Just under an hour ago I downloaded their In The City ep from 2010, I've listened to it once, and I already feel driven to play it over and over again. This band is so damn good that I strongly recommend listening to as much of their music as you can. That's what I'm doing. Also, I've come to the conclusion that i'm in love with Ruth Radelet. Have a nice day; enjoy.

Paradoxical Five O'Clock Moaning

Music may be the only thing to ever truly make sense to me. Honestly I don't care for much else. It may just be the consistency of both new and old music on a daily basis. It may be because most of my other passions have fallen seemingly out the window. I don't watch hours and hours of TV anymore. I don't remember the last movie I watched. The kicker here is that I don't exactly fill my time with another activity. I've acquired more books and a skateboard, yet I've started working on neither of those things because as you're likely already aware, I spend my time thinking about doing all of these things, much to the point where I'm just standing in a room with no idea what to do, but filled with ideas of things I'd like to do, of which I never do. My own friends don't make sense to me anymore. Even distant friends that I do a good job of dealing with or usually get along with are people that I don't want to be around anymore. I don't want to be around anyone. It's a six of one, half a dozen of the other kind of situation. In most circumstances I'm doing something because someone else wanted to do that thing. In the other set of circumstances I'm doing something that was agreed upon, the other person allows me time to speak or do what I would like and then I over-capitalize on it by focusing entirely on myself (which I can't help but do since I rarely get to) and not giving them a true opportunity to do or talk about what the other person wants. Basically I'm unhappy with myself, people I like, and people I don't like. I'm tired of pretending. I'm tired of saying how tired I am of pretending.

I haven't written anything down in a good while so let me bring you up to date on what is going on here. Since school ended good things have been happening to me and the ladies. An issue that I will forever misunderstand. I've since asked a girl out after two sentences of interaction, which was stupid easy and unquestionably awesome. I made out with a girl I went to middle and high school with while she was good and drunk, which was incredibly weird and equally awesome. Mere weeks later, actually last Wednesday, I pleasured, diddled, or fingered a closer friend of mine at 5:00 in the morning (so technically Thursday) so spontaneously that one minute we were sleeping in the same bed, another spooning, another I was caressing her stomach, another I was massaging her nipples, another my finger was deep inside her, another the bed was so wet from her writhing vagina that she has to sleep in a different part of the bed, and another ten hours later, I had blister on my finger :). Now. This awe-inspiring, and arguably too detailed, Thursday morning and preceding weeks in mind: I'm very confused. I'm really not that good looking. I feel like I have my moments, but those are few and far between. In fact, a lot of those moments take place in sexual situations, probably because I get off on getting the girl in question off. But aside from that, I don't really have much going for me. I'm just around. Which makes even less sense because there is no fucking way a girl woke up to a light, seemingly disembodied caress and allowed that caress to explore her nethers based simply on proximity. If that was the truth, there's certainly no hope for the rest of my happiness. But that definitely isn't fucking true because when said caress started to stray variously, yet systematically, north and south, she wiggled and slumped into it. She reached around and put her hand on my side while thrusting her backside seamlessly into my embrace like it was born there. If that shit was based on proximity, this post would have to be about how there is no point in living. So you know what this fucking means, nobody? It means that she was into the idea of me doing what I was doing. This is where the paradox comes in. I can't seem to imagine a universe where I am who I am and girls find me attractive enough to want me in any capacity. This is where the former paragraph comes into play. I don't really have a purpose around any group or person any more. There are only a few people who I truly get along with and those people are my favorite people in the world. The unfortunate thing is that I don't know those people anymore. They either go to different schools than I do or live in a different hemisphere than I do. This may be hard for some to read, but the people I know now aren't really the people I see spending the rest of my time with. Most of us aren't on the same page. We still talk about the same silly, remarkably entertaining topics but we exist on different levels of consciousness (obviously, since we're not some singular, amorphous blob). In the mind of humans everywhere, the problems they have will always take precedence over the problems of others. Some people take on the problems of others and make them their own, therefore no precedence is actually shifted. In the friendships that I currently participate in the balance isn't so much a balance as it is pointless and borderline condescending. I take on the problems of others and try to be helpful with feedback that will hopefully benefit them (an act I rarely mind) and they ignore any problems I have and if they attempt to actually hear what I'm saying they usually try to give me advice, patronize me, and/or tell me what they would do, which helps no one but their ego and self-assurance (an act I will forever mind). There are a couple people I know who actually hear me when I'm talking. There is one person who actually follows up to see if I'm actually okay and doesn't usually blindly accept me saying that I'm fine, whatever that word even means. I believe she is the only person who reads this anymore. Which is good because that means a conversation may actually stem from this. Whether it'll help or not is another matter entirely because talking about yourself and all of your problems is one thing. Actually pursuing and trying to hack away at those problems in the knee caps with hatchets, is clearly another thing. So how the writhing, moaning friend, ex-classmate, and random HyVee Chinese food clerk found me attractive enough and interesting enough to allow me to do varying degrees of things to them: finger, make out, and date briefly, respectively, understandably doesn't make any sense to me. The thing all of these events have in common is the striking background of decision-making based on a whim. Maybe all of this really is simply a proximity thing. A girl thinking highly enough of my looks or personality (of which they know little) to refute the proximity theory almost seems like an impossibility at this point.

I like to think that I'll be okay but it seems to me a distinct possibility that I'm not going to be okay. Here are some things I'm certain of: My universal irrelevance; the tight grip of power music holds over my happiness; I need to leave every person I know and love and live my life elsewhere. Peace and enjoy. Love, music, and frequently, drugs. Goodbye.

Pile of wood | Chuck Inglish

The entire point of this blog of mine is to write things so that my future self can look back and reflect on things that I thought or how much of a shit I was. Full disclosure: I've been drinking since the sun was high in the sky. Unfortunately, dissimilar to that Best Coast lyric: the sun was high and so was I, I was not. I was and am simply drunk. There are several thing I want to say so lets move past the pleasantries, even though my future self is wildly interested and entertained by my pleasantries and filler speech. As a male, I am plagued with the desire to have intense sex with my closest female friends. I guess that's where I'm beginning. I'll begin there, though I won't dwell there, since I'm in conversation with one of those female friends, and have been for several hours now. We're having a cool, relaxed chat about things we want to do over the summer. Her list includes eating a lot more fruit, making blanket forts, having sleep overs (she isn't in grade school, I promise: fuck it: it's the girl you hallucinated existing from a pile of wood one time on shrooms (my self knows who this is, the rest of you don't know and likely don't care)), fucking a black guy, fucking someone at Lollapalooza and having a threesome. My three figured list includes the following three things: reading, self-exploration, and learning how to skateboard. There are many other things on that list, but I chose not to include them for the sake of time and my inebriation. Oh, sorry, I didn't dwell on the obvious: she told me about all of this fucking. She was aware that I was drunk, but did it anyway. I think the problem is that I'm an incredibly coherent drunk writer/text messager (this writing may not be proof of that, but to that I say fuck you), so she said it anyway, plus I'm apparently very easy to talk to. The illusion of empathy mofos. I couldn't help but tell this person that I was willing to provide my services in this threesome. Rookie mistake. I don't have a lot of female opportunities, so I make a lot of those. I haven't had sex or even inklings of a relation or relationship in ten months so who is surprised: not this dude. Blech. Let's move on.
As of April 23, I had never heard any of The Cool Kids' music. I didn't know who Mikey Rocks was and I certainly had never heard the words Chuck and Inglish put together before. Since then, I've listened to The Bake Sale ep, quite literally, twenty times and since then Chuck Inglish has become a personal hero of mine. I wish I was him. If I knew how to make beats like he does, I'd drop out of school and do only that with my friend the Rad Rascal. When I downloaded The Bake Sale ep, I also downloaded around a hundred other various tracks. I haven't listened to anything else except Cool Kids music, particularly Chuck Inglish beats and mixtapes. Dude is only a couple years older than me and is a fucking awesome producer and person in general, based on what I've seen from interviews. Hip hop has become an increasingly important part of my life over the past several months and it is directly reflected in the amount of it I've been listening to recently. It may not be fair though, because I've listened to The Bake Sale ep so many times. I'm on to his working series: WRKOUT. and WRKING. as well as other Cool Kids albums and mixtapes. I'm obsessed, and that fact excites the shit out of me. I've been listening to their Gone Fishing instrumental album for the past hour, without even realizing it. With that, I'm going to go ahead and finish it, watch an episode of Its Always Sunny, then pass out. Music is without a doubt the most important part of my life right now. I couldn't be happier. It is ever changing. To be able to have the feeling of discovering music that fills you with so much joy that you can't contain yourself, at least once a week, is simply incredible. Music blows my mind on a daily basis. Let it rest on your head. Goodnight everyone. Listen to music. Or don't. Just do what makes you happy. If not, you're life is pointless and not worth living. If you finish a day and can smile, you've done everything right. Even if you murdered a bunch of people. I realize that is remarkably fucked up, but if you see the color blue in a different manner than the way other people see the color blue, doesn't make it wrong. The train is falling off the tracks here. I just want all of you (me. self. two other people who read this otherworldly nonsense) to appreciate the world you've been born into. Your destiny is up to you. I could branch off into a seemingly infinite number of tangents. Just knowing that satisfies me. I'm happy with myself and with summer around the corner, I'm about to become the greatest version of myself I've ever been. Happy adventures, my friends. Be breezy. Enjoy life. Let it be. All that. Peace and enjoy :)

Sleigh Bells

No one wants to read what I'm about to write. I barely even want to say it, but I feel like I need to say it to keep me going for the next couple years. Allow me to go full hipster on you: I started listening to Sleigh Bells before every single person that I know. They are playing in Iowa City tonight. Most people that I'm friends with who live in a respectable radius to that city are going to that show. I gave Treats to most of them over the past few years. I gave all of them and the rest of them Reign of Terror a few months ago when it dropped. They're all about to loose their goddamn minds tonight and good for them. I'm happy for them, I really am. For some of them it'll be an unprecedented experience. I saw them at P4K in 2010, so I'm not going, nor am I really bothered by that because, to be honest, their live show wasn't very good. That's fine though. These friends of mine will probably have an incredible time, and rightly so. I just want recognition. I've gotten it seldom in the past. I think the reason I've gotten it seldom in the past is because everyone knows how much I enjoy giving people music and that I already know that people are grateful. Basically I can't help but feel weirdly superior to everyone when I know about a band years before they do. I hope I get at least one text message later tonight when everyone is at the show or that I'm a part of the conversation, even if for mere seconds. I'd be okay with that. All of that said, if I get a "we wish you were here" related text message or phone call, I'll loose it haha. I feel like a dad. I've created lovers of music and now I have to let them all free. I could be more irritated at this, but I'm not. I'm more over it than I was at the beginning of this writing, to be honest. The worst part about this is that I'm probably going to lie to everyone about my opinion. The next big group conversation that everyone has about it, I will likely be around for. They'll be all excited and I'll pretend that when I saw them it was just as good. Or I could say "nah bro, their live show is crap, their music is powerful, it needs a space to fill, air and outside is not that place." I was almost trampled at that show, though, so there's something interesting, though surprisingly unrelated. Seriously, it wasn't very good. The almost getting trampled thing was pretty funny though. I'll stop here. I hope everyone has a nice time tonight. I'll be here listening to the music you all will enjoy over the next few months, 'cause I'm giving you ALL OF IT!! End note: I'm deactivating my facebook account at the end of today. I'm very excited to start living my life again and not fucking tell anyone (except you lovely people) about it. Sharing music is caring. Peace and enjoy.

Just Gimme the Cue

There's three things I want to talk about. My living situation, physical pain, and summertime. I fuck with the oxford comma and you should to. It was arguably unnecessary with that sentence because you were already aware that there were three particular things I wanted to mention, but I'm stoned, so what do you really want from me?
I've become increasingly introverted in this apartment. It has gotten to the point that when someone walks by my room and the floor creaks, my heart rate immediately increases and I become anxious because I'll have to interact with one of them. Most of the time it is just someone walking by my room, but occasionally this is immediately followed by a knock on my door. The funny part about all of this, is that they're usually completely frivolous conversations that cause me no stress whatsoever. I think the reason I become anxious beforehand is because there are certainly times when, if I agree to do something they request, post-knock, I get myself involved in things I don't really want to do: Smoke two blunts after not smoking for a week, be told that I might finally have to man up when someone tries to rob us (a crowbar was handed to me after this was said, I won't get into it), and take a whole mess of shots. I am, of course, aware that on an personal level, all of these situations are my own fault. I succumb quite easily to peer pressure though, so that's that. In short, living here is working negative wonders on my peace of mind.
Physical pain. Let's talk about it. I have something of a fascination with pain. I've been injured so few times that whenever I get injured, it sort of excites me. I think this has something to do with the fact that whenever I'm injured in some way, it is usually from some awesome activity I was participating in, like playing soccer, climbing various whatevers, or trying to jump over a wooden parking lot barricade (as is the inspiration for this writing) and failing, just barely. So whenever I inadvertently injure myself, I become sort of happy. Upset, naturally, because I've just injured myself, but happy because watching injuries recover and seeing scars and bruises and experiencing aches, I don't know, it just makes me happy. I don't really know how to explain it, its just how I am. I'm writing the latter part of this paragraph a few hours later. I've always wanted to write in depth about my mental interaction with physical pain, but I've always had trouble trying to verbalize it. Let's move on. I apologize.
With the third topic, I'd just like to express how baffled I am. I will be finished with school in mere weeks. I just had my last lab today, yet I barely had any idea that was the case. I'm staying here an extra week so that I can go see two bands, but when I get home, this summer is gonna be fantastic. My plan for the summer includes being sort of drunk all the time, doing a lot of reading, making money, exploring the depths of my subconscious with various hallucinogens, finding a bookstore that sells Doors of Perception by Huxley, exploring the wild outdoors while being blissfully fucked up with my friends, and so much more.
As for where I really am right now, I'm doing alright. Once summer comes I can really start working on myself some more. I think that exact same thing every year at this time, but I have much higher hopes for this summer because my priorities are more in order and I know what I want to get out of this summer. Even if I don't, I'll still get to see two weekends full of live music with one of my best friends and my brother. And if all goes well in the next couple of days, I should find out if I'm going to Australia next semester. Don't worry, I'll certainly tell you how that goes. I'm going to continue listening to hours and hours of music. Have a nice life until I talk to you next. Here's a link to a song I've been listening to a lot recently, it's Gimme. I hope you enjoy. If not, future self, listen to this and become immediately happy. Peace and enjoy.

"Lonely" People | Positive Change | Biggie Smalls For Mayor

I said last time that I'd talk to you all again the next time my self-loathing resurfaced. I'm here to tell you that I want to write to you, but not because I'm really upset or depressed or anything of that nature. My phone died, so I'll bitch and moan to you non-responsive bastards. Sorry for the insult. Let's focus, shall we? Probably not for long, but I'll entertain the idea of focusing. I've been hearing and seeing a lot of complaining recently. Most of this complaining has been by people who think they are lonely and that they spend all of their time alone. Now, allow me to preface what I'm about to say that even I don't know what it feels like to be truly alone. I go to a University and live in a city where hundreds of people live, and I walk among them on a daily basis. Never in my life have I been forced into solitary confinement. Sure, I was likely alone in my crib when I was supposed to be sleeping as a baby, but that shit doesn't count, does it, you semantic douchebags?! I don't know what being really alone feels like. But I can't stand seeing people bitching and moaning about being alone, or spending all of their time in their room, or not having any friends and then going out and getting drunk on the weekend and partying it up with all of these people all the time. Having girlfriends or boyfriends, or fun-filled weekends. Spending a bunch of time by yourself during the week doesn't make you a loner or alone. You can't just be alone during the week, active on the weekends and say that you don't have friends or that you're alone. Now. Though I'm never truly alone, I feel like I understand what it means to be alone more than these fuckers. I apologize for the swearing, but this shit really irks me. Some days I won't even speak to another human being. Sure, I talk to this one person for maybe five minutes every couple of days, but that is the most interaction with another person I'll have in a single week. If I were to add up all of the time I talk to another person in any given week, it would total up to half an hour. Haha, that seems like such a large number, so half an hour may be a bit of an exaggeration. So. I don't have people here that I would really consider to be my friends. When I leave here in a month or so (woah! goodness! titties!), it will be like I never existed at this school. I spend more time talking to myself than I do with my own roommates. Let's consider this. I almost never talk to myself. Maybe a maximum of a few seconds. So, with that: I talk to my roommates for about a second every day. It's usually a "Hey," but that's about as far as it goes. Sometimes when I'm quickly going in or out of the apartment I won't say anything to them at all. Occasionally we'll all get a good conversation about some bullshit topic going, like how the ceiling leaks when the upstairs neighbors shower or about drugs or something. It usually lasts as long as it peaks our interest. Then I'll go back to my room and we won't speak for three days. People think the loneliness their going through is some remarkable feat, but they have no idea. Going days without talking to another human being probably isn't even something most of you or most of the people you know can even wrap your minds around. Imagine spending days upon days with your mouth closed. I wish I were speaking in hypotheticals or hyperbole, but I promise you that what I'm speaking of is the unabashed truth. This is really funny. Reading this seems like I'm bragging. Bitch! I'm by myself ALL the time, you mother fuckers ain't got nothin' on me!! Haha, that's fucked up. I'm not bragging though. That's the shittiest part. I was once very satisfied to be by myself, but son of a bitch, I just want some fucking friends. I still rather enjoy being by myself, but that is probably just because I haven't met anyone that satisfies what I look for in a friend or companion of any kind. I don't have anyone that I can just hangout with here and say nothing to for hours, sit in comfortable silence with, talk bullshit or music with, or talk about anything with. Nothing. Not a single thing. The most stimulating conversation I've had in days was me lying to someone about what I was doing. They had no idea and laughed appropriately in conjunction with what I was saying, but I was just playing them because I was unprecedentedly bored with my non-social life. Alright, that's it. I've had enough of you. To continue the good habits I've been developing over the past few days I should make these flash cards. Ugh. But. I want to just do it tomorrow and for the first time in years, I can say that I'm going to do it tomorrow and ACTUALLY do it tomorrow. Astonishing, no? I'm going to make a schedule for myself tomorrow, so that I may actually, appropriately accomplish something. I'm in a much better mindset than I've been in past weeks. The interesting thing about where I currently am now, mentally speaking, is that I've been in a better mood for a longer period of time than I'm used to. Usually I fluctuate like the emotions of a small child. It has to do with three things, though I'll likely forget them by the time I get to each of them. Then I'll shut up for today. FIRST: I've smoked weed only once in the past nineteen days. The one time I smoked was a Friday. I took a single, deep hit, four tramadol, one vicodin, and a xanax. I haven't been so relaxed in years. I didn't do it irresponsibly. I know that saying that and looking at that list seems quite dangerous, but I have a really high tolerance for drugs of most kinds (trust me...I know) and I've done all four of these before, so I knew what I was doing and did it as safely as possible. That said, I don't really remember anything that happened that night, specifically, nor do I remember what happened that morning (except that I wished my mother a happy birthday, I do feel a bit ashamed for being fucked up during that, but during it I felt totally normal. The next day, I didn't remember any of it). SECOND: Christ, I let that get away from me. I'll wrap up. Second. I'm coming out the other side of my year and a half of smoking every single day. No exaggeration either. Literally, every single day. I'm coming out the other side, quite truly. I've seen the light and I'm a different person for it. THIRD: I now have a genuine desire to accomplish change. Well. Not change, more deviation. People don't change. I realize the very House side of that argument, but he's right. So. I have a genuine desire for a strong deviation from who I was to who I wish to be. With that, I've started scheduling my time and figuring out what I wish to get done in a single day. All of this has been festering for a long long long long long long long time now. It took me doing some morally ambiguous things in order to get out of failing an exam*, to realize that I need to stop kidding myself and being down on myself and just fucking do something about who I am. Actually. That happened a week prior. The real thing was I waited three months to work on an eight page paper. I spent nine hours working on it the night before it was due. It was nine hours of terror. I never want to go through that again. I keep putting myself in that position, but that shit has to end. It has to. It's going to. I'll make sure of it. Whoever reads this: Go do something else. This is mostly for me. There must be a better way to spend your time. Read a book. I mean, I get that Montaigne was a layperson and everyone wanted to read his thoughts, but his were concise and divided into clear sections. I'm just talking and rambling. I meant to only write a paragraph, but I've written way more than that. I gotta get out of here. Seriously, go read a book. Have some truly beautiful sex. Or at least find some really mind-blowing porn. Lollapalooza's lineup drops in nine days. 80/35's drops tomorrow. Pitchfork will likely release the rest of their's this week. BADBADNOTGOOD release's their second full-length LP tomorrow and I'm fucking psyched. More than I've been for any album in a really long time...well..since The Shins a month ago. Shutting up. Whew. Biggie Smalls for Mayor. Peace. Enjoy life. It's fucking magical :)

*I told my professor that a friend tried to kill himself, so I stayed up late trying to help him, and then fell asleep, and then missed the midterm. Truth: I stayed up late studying since I hadn't done shit in weeks, then I fell asleep

Active Irresponsibility

I have an eight page paper that is due on Tuesday that I haven't started researching for yet. I know that I'm going to do something regarding Family Planning Programs, but I have no idea what specifically about them nor do I have any idea as to what my argument or thesis is going to be. I very much do not care. It is Sunday night and all I want to do is watch TV and movies. I may just still be reeling from the dream I had last night. I fell madly in love with a girl who vaguely resembled my best friend's ex-girlfriend, but only vaguely. Things didn't end up going well for me in this dream because it led to me waking up and feeling oh so very alone. The part I remember most vividly of the dream was when I first kissed the dream girl in question. It was the most vivid aspect of a dream I've had in months. It was a whole body experience exactly similar to kissing someone passionately. I woke up covered in sweat and my sheets were still wet from it. I haven't had such a strong emotional reaction to a dream in a very long time, longer than I can remember. I haven't had sex with anyone in eight months. I haven't had an emotional connection with anyone in much longer. I haven't experienced basic human connection with anyone for longer than I care to analyze. Woah, this post really got away from me. Homework! Not doing it. I'm gonna throw some shoes on and head to the store to buy some candy. I shall sit here and be irresponsible until it is Monday morning when I vow (I'll likely break this immediately) to be a responsible member of academia and actually do things and do them on time. I just want to kiss somebody. I'm a good dude. Girls don't like me apparently, which is another issue entirely, but come on? I'm not outrageously unattractive or anything. Maybe I am: Who knows. I certainly don't. Hours of television, I'm coming to get you. OH, real quick: I spoke to my brother and spilled some of my mental nonsense onto him which was nice because I haven't done that in a really long time, if ever. Alright. I'll see you all the next time my self-loathing resurfaces. Goodbye.

A Friend?

What's up assholes? I haven't rambled about myself on here in a while and for some reason I just did the minimal amount of homework so I can feel comfortable wasting some time. There is one very important thing I want to talk about: Friends. Or people who I consider my friends, but who don't really serve any purpose as to what should be considered a friend. I'll sometimes send informative text messages about myself to my friends. One friend I have known really well since middle school and she is terrible at talking things out with me. She loves talking about the things that are going on with her and I love her to death, but she doesn't give a shit about my problems. No shits are given. Not even the tiniest secretion of shit. Fucking emotional constipation. I'll send her a small snipit of my issue and she'll respond, guaranteed, every time, with some variation of the word "aww." The variation lies in the difference between aw and awwww, quite simply. Today this happened. She'll never read this and even if she does, hey, you, let's have a personal chat, but until then: Today she responded to me by saying, "Aww goodness! That sounds like an interesting time." I realize who it is that I'm dealing with here, but to my rational mind she might as well just say, "Aww that's stupid! You're problems are completely irrelevant to the rest of society and you're quite frankly wasting my time with this text message to which I'm going to ignore." Her certainly inadvertent condescension was immediately followed by a "Do you watch How I Met Your Mother?" Her inconsiderate consistency is astounding. I just explained our situation to an actual, genuine friend, who listens, and who I have a steady dialogue with, by saying that "I listen to her problems like someone is paying me in drugs and blowys, but she ignores me like I'm a homeless person just trying to make eye contact." People disappoint me on a daily basis. I don't even feel like I can talk to my own brother. I also don't feel like my brother has any idea who I truly am. That's another issue entirely though. Final thought: I can't help but laugh at how disappointed I am in most of the relationships I have with people and how remarkably ineffective and unnecessary most of them are. I keep my mouth shut in public about this bullshit though because it is socially unacceptable to tell people to shut the fuck up. I'm about to ramble. That's some shit ya'll don't want to or need to read. I'm fed up. Everyone just wants to talk about themselves. I'm obviously not in the best position to argue for that being obnoxious. It's true though. I listen to everyone else's problems all goddamn day, and people dismiss me before I even start talking. Ah fuck it. Peace.

Four Midterms. Two Days. One Concerned Dude.

I have a whole lot of studying to do for the four midterms I have in the next two days, but I feel like writing about nothing before I get started. It is 6:30pm and I haven't even started yet. If I'm going to get anything at all done I'm going to need to go to the library and crank this shit out, otherwise I will fail, guaranteed. I finished watching Game of Thrones today though. That show is brilliant. The show started and ended (season one) with strong elements of fantasy without making a big deal about it as the season progressed. Season two is going to be a completely different show and I'm thrilled to bits about that. I have a midterm tomorrow for a class that I've done nothing for. We're supposed to have been doing four approximate readings per week for the past eight weeks and I've only done one of them. The exam is going to likely be over a whole lot of material that I'm completely unaware of. Fortunately for me it is a class based around global population and the issues related to it. Most of the issues we cover are remarkably intuitive. I'm hoping that the multiple choice section will be cake and the written portion will be easy to bullshit. My goal going into this semester was to give myself too much to handle to see if I would concur it. I've fallen victim to it, of course. I got a D on my Astronomy midterm. I would put more effort forward but there isn't anyone getting on my ass to tell me to try harder. I keep rationalizing my behavior by saying that once something is over, there isn't anything I can do about it. I don't work on something all the way up until it is due and then say, oh well, I couldn't have done anything about it. Shrug. Move on. Bullshit. There is a library here that stays open until 3am. If I care at all about my academic well being I will go there very soon and stay there until it closes. For tomorrow I just need to memorize a lot of information for this population class and then do a lot of studying for an Italian oral exam I have, which I shouldn't do too bad in. Again, I just need to memorize things. The exams I have on Friday shouldn't be too difficult. I have an exam for my Renaissance course, which I already know more or less exactly what I need to study. The most difficult thing for Friday will be the piece I have to memorize and perform for my Theatre Storytelling and Solo Performance class. Immediately after I perform I'm going to leave early so that I can catch a flight back to Cedar Rapids where I can take comfort in doing nothing for a week, much like I do now. For some further explanation, my academic life is shitty, but my mindset is clearing up. You wouldn't be able to tell from looking at me that I'm doing better because the acne on my face makes me and my life look similar to chaos and I also haven't shaved in days, for fear of cutting a lot of the acne and making my face bleed all over. PUBERTY!! Fucking yipee. Seeing as it takes me ages to do any kind of homework whatsoever, I'll likely actually be in the library until 3am so I may as well leave now. My goal is to stay awake all night. Once I get back from the library, I'll hopefully keep studying and then go for a run at 5:45 when the gym opens which'll certainly keep my awake until my exam at 8:15am. I still have no idea what I'm going to memorize and perform. Ah who am I kidding, I'm stressed. These next two days are going to be tough. But, again, once 12:30 on Friday roles around I can immediately be stress free and relax and all that jazz over the spring break, which I really don't need to go on and could talk about for an entire other post. Something I may do come the actual spring break in a couple days. Bye for now.

Another, More Brief, Set of 'Words'

Calm down. I'm not going to kill anyone. I'm not going to kill myself. I'm not going to do anything that will disturb my or anyone else's lives. I felt like I need to clarify that. Obviously what I wrote is to be taken very seriously, but the extent to how serious it all is can only truly be known my me. Me, believe it or not, is a person who deep down, I rather enjoy. The person who I am is quite lovely and honest in my opinion. Well. Personally honest. Socially, I lie to everyone. All the time. It's quite sad and entertaining. Before I begin another seemingly melodramatic rant I'll cut to the chase. Cut. Ha! Segue. Clever, inadvertent wordplay. Yesterday when I said repeatedly that I 'just' myself, I meant that I cut myself. Silly mistake. To clarify yet again: Last year around this time I CUT myself several times. Purely from a place of curiosity, may I remind you. Now, I did it again last night and I might do it again once I'm finished writing. It's very interesting. Cutting myself for reasons that seem to me to be asymptomatic is oddly liberating. I'll leave you with a final, likely obvious observation, especially considering the current whereabouts of this writing: People seem to be much too preoccupied with their own shit to care too much about anyone else's. That applies directly to two sets of people: Me, and most of the people that I've encountered, including someone I love dearly and is a great friend to me. To the person reading this who thinks that it is them, it is not. I know you and care about you far too much to place you in that category. We're all selfish to an extent though, and I feel that is important to recognize. Buona sera.

Words

To a greater or lesser extent, I dislike every single person I know. I need an outlet. Whenever I become extremely emotional, much like I am in this moment, I just get stoned and make everything happy, when in reality I'm just pushing everything away and when I return to consciousness, everything is shitty again. I completely understand but drug addiction is a thing. Completely. If I knew the right people I could see myself becoming addicted to some very troubling drugs and ruining my life. When things become really shitty there is no where else to go except up. Until you find a new way to bring yourself down, in which case you live there. You dig a deep hole there. You bury yourself there. You kill yourself there. You kill the idea of happiness there. You kill the idea of possibility there. I often wonder what it would be like to take another man's life. I don't know if I have it in me to kill someone. Obviously killing someone is wildly circumstantial, but if justified, I like to think that I could kill someone. I sometimes feel like killing someone. Never myself. Not my precious, pointless existence. No. Of course not. I just want to project my years and years of frustration and rage that have been suppressed by people who just want me to be happy and will do anything for me. Other people's happiness towards and for me has led me to become wildly unhappy and thinking often to myself what it would be like to stab someone in the heart and watch the life leave their body as they sink deeper into insignificance. Every once in a while I'll send out a distress text message to a friend or two, but once I confirm that everything is fine, though I'm always lying, they immediately dismiss it. It is understandable that they believe me and that they dismiss me, since they have their own problems, dealing with my personal bullshit shouldn't be a priority. I just find it amusing that everyone is all concerned, and caring, and full of it, until you "reassure" them that you're fine, and then all is immediately well. I don't ever honestly want to talk to people about my problems because I don't care about what anyone has to say about them. I just want to know that people care about me. I don't want to experience the caring, I just want to be aware of it. That's why I always turn my phone off immediately after sending those messages. I don't want to talk about my feelings, I just want to scream and yell and punch someone in the face until I can see the bone breaking through what is left of the skin on my hand. I want to destroy something. I want to witness something completely fall apart. I want that thing to not be my own life. There are a few more words I want to share with you, future self, who is already aware of all of this, but is simply being reminded of what a shithead you used to be: I just myself a few times around this time of last year. I don't hate myself or anything. Well. I do sometimes, but that isn't why. I just wanted to bleed. I enjoy feeling pain. I've been injured so few times in my sheltered, governed for me little life that sometimes I just want to bleed. Nothing too serious. I just myself in the fatty part of my leg, so it was just the first layer of skin. But I did it once. And then I did it five more times immediately afterwards because, as the joke goes, it hurt so good. Though I check Blogger almost daily to see if any friend has posted intimate details about their lives, of which I am thoroughly curious, I hope nobody reads this. I hope that because I don't want to have a conversation about it. I think I might go break some bottles in the alleyway. What if I threw a rock through a window? Nah that's passive-aggression. What if I punched someone in the face in such a way that when they looked up, there was blood running from their nose and mouth. There I stand in a fit of adrenaline, my hand throbbing, likely also bleeding. Whenever I have justification to get into a genuine fight, I want to warn the Internet, and the detective reading this, that I might not be able to control myself. Things might get out of hand. Depending on my state of mind at the time, I might do what the narrator of Fight Club did and punch his face in so many times that he'll never look the same again, if he ever looks again. Jesus, I wish I wasn't this angry. My GPA in high school was 3.6. My GPA last year was 3.2. My GPA this year is 2.8. I'm digressing, and you can literally see it in numbers. I'm so sad. Not emotionally. Me as a person. Looking in from an outsiders perspective I am a sad individual. I shouldn't be alive. I don't contribute anything to any field or discipline or anything. I don't even contribute negatively. My sole purpose on this Earth is to figure myself out. I'm afraid that the day I achieve happiness, is the same day that I die. One must know, not fear, but know that someday they're going to die. I have so much more to say. Goodbye.

Chaos and Beauty Created From Nothing

If you recall, I wasn't particularly happy at school last year. Not having friends around me, but a never ending ability to purchase drugs is apparently bad for my mental stability. Nonsense, right? So towards the end of last year, amongst all the drugs and the not having friends, I managed to make a new friend with someone I had known all year and sort of thought negatively of. I had an Oral Communication class with this girl and we were the two theatre students in the class so we did very well with very little effort. Prior to us really speaking more than a few sentences to each other I thought that she was just another one of those silly bitches who was remarkably unintelligent and was just good at theatre. Regarding the former, boy was I wrong. The final assignment for this class was to develop and present an 8-minute persuasive speech, on which I attempted to persuade the class that secularity in public education and formative development, basically in all general aspects of life, should be the goal of an idealized society. I need to back up for a second. I knew this girl from the first day of classes. We were both theatre majors so I saw her more or less every single morning. So, to the assignment: we both had been neglecting working on the speech so both of us were in the classroom the night before it was to be presented. What happens next is nearly impossible to explain in depth because it is, in my mind, something of a phenomenon. Simply, we just clicked. There are some people, that for whatever reason, I get along with extremely well and am able to maintain a constant and immediate repartee. It was perfect. At one point she called her boyfriend and told him to bring her chips and salsa from a drawer in her room, placing 100% of the responsibility of obtaining food onto him. Eventually he showed up in the room delivering her her food and having a quick chat with the two of us. The best part about this (and it is important that I tell you this otherwise the last several lines were pointless) is that this dude had directed me a few months prior and we get along swimmingly, so he didn't at all mind that I was spending hours of alone time with his lady, especially given the platonic setting. That's that, though. Moving on. After that night, we spent a surprising amount of late night time hanging out and having surprisingly intimate talks about how we perceived ourselves and how we thought about others, music that we enjoy, etc. Among this short period of time we even, while talking and walking around the remarkably small campus, decided that we would go out onto the roof of one of the main buildings. It was awesome. We lodged open the window and broke down the screen. This was obviously highly against some kind of rules, but the idea was much too appealing to not follow through with. It was just true and honest friendship. We went from not really giving a shit about each other, to becoming unprecedentedly good friends. All of this happened in a two week period of time, mind you. When I had to say goodbye to her it was devastating because we talked a lot about how we were likely not going to see each other for a very long time. We even, very sadly, said goodbye to each other and then ran into each other later that day and we almost became teary eyed.

Two weeks pass.

We become friends, or whatever it is, on Skype and have a conversation for two hours via the chat feature. Throughout this conversation we had been casually talking about sex which eventually led to the both of us admitting, rather candidly, how much one desired the other sexually and that if we had just fucked each other we wouldn't be having all of these emotional issues. Finding out this information mere weeks after we became very good friends, in light of the fact that we won't be seeing each other for months, maybe years, was very unfortunate, to put it lightly.

Eight months pass.

During this time we would text the other about once every month or two. These conversations never lasted more than a few hours. Last night I texted her telling her how shitty is was that those two weeks were like bliss and that we haven't seen each other since then and that I wish I could go to Winona to see the show that she is in, but the Amtrak tickets are too much money. I also told her that I missed her, and that was all. A few hours later she shares a few things with me. She told me that my message made her smile, that she wishes she would've broken up with her boyfriend because she wouldn't then still have incomplete feelings for me, and that she might be in town on Friday, which is a day and a half from now. I questioningly responded to her comment about having incomplete feelings for me and she said that she felt completely herself with me, that she could tell me anything, and that people like that don't come around too often. I wholeheartedly reciprocated and that is as far as that conversation has gone. I am wildly curious as to what is going to happen in the coming days. I've been wanting desperately to write about this all day. I feel better. I'm not going to be able to focus on anything until she shows up, if she even does. Though, I wasn't focusing on anything anyway. I take solace that whatever happens, it'll be good to see her. Writing about something that isn't super depressing and self-loathing is a nice change of pace. Tune in next week when I return to moaning about life's woes and sadnesses.

A Poor Decision with an Afterword by My Libido

I don't get out very often. When I do I seem to put myself in weird situations. Before last night, the last time I 'went out,' I ended up in a basement of some foreign students' house dancing to Bulgarian club music. It was very odd. There was a lot of fist bumping going on. So last night I was checking stupid ol' Facebook and I saw that there was an improv show being performed by the group that I'm technically in but haven't gone to in months. I figured, I didn't have anything else going on, I could use some social interaction. So I smoke a bit and then head over to the show. About two hours of lovely comedy later and I was talking to one of my friends that I made from the club since I hadn't seen him in a while. The show had been over for a bit and I was asking him what he was up to after the show and he said that usually after a show the guys get together and party and he asked if I would be interested in going. So I agreed. I otherwise would've just gone home, got more stoned, watched a movie, fallen asleep weirdly early and then woken up bored and ashamed. The latter part of that sort of happened anyway, but let me continue. So after inefficient plan-making had subsided I went back to my place to grab all the necessary Evan-going-to-a-party essentials: Small amount of weed, lighter, condom, chapstick, eye drops. Time passes, insignificant things happen, eventually my friend Brian and I are sitting outside the house of the party we're about to go into, smoking rum flavored cigarillos, having a chat. Once finished we go into the house to find that every person at this party is in the kitchen, and that every person at this party consists of five people. Not at all what I was expecting, but hardly a bad thing because it was the dude who lived in the place and four random, good looking, quick witted, wildly responsive girls. Brian immediately said to me how sorry he was and that he let me down, but I didn't care at all because I was getting along great with these girls. Eventually we all were relatively drunk, the girls more so than the rest of us, and we made our way into the living room. Again, time passes, insignificant things happen, and the girls who earlier had apparently been talking about their lesbianism, as most close girl friends do, likely to piss off the males in the room, decided that it was time for them to go to another party and that we were invited. Brian immediately asked the host if he thought that us going would be a good idea and he said that personally, he wouldn't. I didn't really give a shit what this dude thought at this point because he had made it very clear that he didn't really want those girls in his place anymore, which made no sense to me at all. Brian was hesitant, but I told him that I'd be more than happy to go with them, if anything for the sheer entertainment value that surely would come with whatever party they were going to. I'll be honest though, in my mind's eye, it was a distinct possibility that I could've slept with one of those girls. They all loudly admitted to always wanting to fuck hipster dudes. I don't usually act like a hipster dude, but I'm very aware that I dress like one, and they said this directly after commenting that I was wearing skinny jeans, slight v-neck and a hoodie. I mean. It is impossible for me to know what these girls were really thinking, but for all I know they were just telling me that they wanted to fuck me! So, they leave, and I'm in a room with three other dudes. I wasn't previously aware that one could piss off the past, future, and present versions of oneself with a single inaction. I accomplished that last night. Now, I remembered the most interesting girl's name so I looked her up this morning and managed to find her: we're interested in A LOT of the same things. It gets better. Around people I don't really know, the drunk/stoned version of myself is just an exacerbation of my sober self, so I don't say anything because I don't like being shunned and physically ostracized. After half and hour, or so, the rest of the party shows up, all dudes and one really attractive girl who was dating one of them. Most of these guys are in the improv group that I haven't showed up to for months with no explanation. It was extremely uncomfortable for me because they were all good and drunk/stoned when they showed up and I didn't have a single word to say to them. Summary: I was invited by four good looking girls to go and party with them, but instead I decided to get stoned in a circle with a whole bunch of dudes who probably didn't really want me to be at their party in the first place. I know I don't usually do this, but if I see the more interesting girl around, I'm going to do something about it. I wish all of my friends were up here. No. I wish I would've gone with those girls. That is the only thing I care about right now.

This is likely going to be read as a wildly sexist comment, but seeing as I haven't had sex with anyone in about five months I'd just like to say something purposefully ignorant: Depression is something I truly don't understand, because if this friend of mine gets to sleep with his unbelievably sexy girlfriend on a frequent basis, and still thinks terrible things of his life, then he is surely experiencing something beyond my comprehension. Seriously though friend of mine..I just want your girlfriend to stand in front of me, perpetually bending over/walking in place for the rest of my life. I have a weakness for girls with perfectly shaped asses. I should've gone to that fucking party.

A Short Rambling

I don't have anything in particular to write about. I'm about to go see The Asteroids Galaxy Tour downtown here in Minneapolis. It's all very exciting. I'll leave here in about twenty minutes. I'm readying myself with Grimes and a small tree: I'll call it a bush under these circumstances. Boy, I am in a peculiar mood. I've recently become acutely aware that my shoulders are usually tense. Most notably when I'm under the influence of the greenery. I'm now listening to Bastard - Lemonade / Orange Juice - AssMilk by BADBADNOTGOOD. What a ridiculous combination of words all that was! It is an excellent song though. Excellence is subjective, so don't take my word for it. Go find it. Be resourceful. May your journey be fruitful. This song is almost over and I need to get out of here. I thought that I wrote more, but the empirical evidence certainly suggests otherwise. Enjoy your lives. Goodbye.

New Years Eve

I'm what some people might describe as something of an introvert. Not just in the classic definition, or the popularized definition where I just really like being by myself, which is also technically an accurate definition, but the definition wherein social situations cause me stress, solitude is often preferred, and over stimulation is group situations troubles me and often makes me want to leave any given social circumstance as soon as it is allowed.

Being around people is terrible, I generally don't want to do it because I almost never feel truly like myself even in front of my closest friends. I don't need to explain myself to you because 'you' at this juncture may as well just be 'me,' so I'm just going to cut to the chase. There is this girl. I've known her since Christmas time of 2001 or 2002. I can't really remember. I've put this girl through a whole lot of juvenile shit. Every single time I see her, my stomach gets in knots, my face flushes, I become a kind of happy that I forget exists until I see her. Until New Years Eve I hadn't seen this girl for three years. On my way to this party I get an alarming text message warning me that she is there. She isn't really friends with any of my friends so much any more so I wasn't at all expecting her to be at this party. I wasn't even aware that she was in Iowa City, least of all Iowa. Before I left for Iowa City from Cedar Rapids my close friend and I smoked a blunt with my childhood best friend's older brother (Andy Fiedler), an excellent way to surprisingly start any evening if you ask me. As I got this text message, then, I was happily blazed. My sublime state of mind about how lovely this party may be flipped on its head and I became heavily worried about how I was going to handle this highly emotional situation in a blunt induced daze. I quickly got another text that said that she and her friends were to be leaving. Boy was I relieved. Don't get me wrong, I more than anything wanted to see this girl but the thought of seeing her wicked stoned, made me want to divert the car into oncoming traffic. In this wave of relief, we made it safely to the party. To my unprecedented surprise, she was still there. The worst part was that my seeing her and the rest of the party required me walking up a staircase. I had to willingly walk up stairs to reach my inevitable fate. Reading and writing this seems so silly because there is no reason for me to be feeling these things. Goddamn it. I wish I didn't get stoned beforehand. That would've made the night turn out much better. Anyway. I walked up those fateful stairs and she was the first person I saw. Our conversation didn't last very long because since me friend and I showed up later than everyone else, the host was waiting for us to smoke, which was very nice of her, as most people would've just said fuck it. From what I was told last night, the first night of the new year, I apparently handled the situation well. I couldn't easily describe it that way. From my perspective I likened everything that was happening to me and around me to chaos. I had no control of what was happening and that was deathly frightening. She left soon after all of us had finished smoking but her being around for that short period of time was enough for my night to be completely altered. I need to see her before she leaves again for New York. I fear for what I will think of myself if I don't. The powers this girl holds over me never fails to amaze. I feel like I'm in love with her without really knowing her. I know that exists in fiction everywhere but I didn't think it was actually possible. It probably isn't in this circumstance. She simply has had too much bearing on my life over the past ten years. Ah shit.