all i've ever done, is all i've ever known

what the fever? haven't said that in a while. these catch phrases we made, never really caught on but in the back of our heads. now i'm just sitting, just laying, just doing what i can to get by, but what's left? ambition or clever wit? nothing but doing whatever the fuck i wanna do.
i'm wearing out, going thin, starting to doubt a lot of things. almost everything. and i don't understand it. is that one thing really effecting me this much? or is it that one thing is highlighting all the other things that i've just ignored b/c i don't care much about stuff anymore.
i feel like i'm going crazy with impatience, nothing ever gets done or down to business quick enough. it's all waiting, shoots and ladders. i'm guessing that's jus' the look of things when you've just gotten through with staring at a reflection of mortality.
gah! i wish i was james dean.

fuck, i've come to notice i use that word a lot

i feel like an idiot again, but i get a small break from richmond and whatever life it is i have here.
not looking forward to the burning pyres, i mean it's part of life, but one i would do well do forget the depths of. much crying, much sniffles, much consolment. and people wonder why i'd rather be alone.
lighter notes, the truck will all this sitting in the back didn't run me over, jus' hit me and left me a little bruised, nothing i can't heal from. plus, there's better distractions in life than sulk and sadness. don't get me wrong, i was there out of respect, and i will probably be there again. but as for now, my head's up, and there might be a twinkle in my eye, but there's really only a couple of reasons for that, and if you know me, you know them. if not - don't bother, but i trust enough to say it's something very good that has overcome discouragement.

anti-cunt man

i fucking hate the internet.
i write a lot again.
i use sentence fragments to describe life.
eat it. wanna fight?

zombie thing vs. protoman nt warrior

yeah, i mean, they're fighting on my pc desk right now, but they've been in the same stalemate for days, i mean, i dunno. they jus' don't move on their own, it's kinda weird, like they're not alive or something.
me:so what's new interweb?
interweb: nothing, well i mean a bunch of dipshits updating stuff and making new websites, but it all sucks. i mean except of wikipedia.
me: that's true interweb. thank you for you enclypedic database of a ton of worthless shit that mos def makes my life more eventful and a million times better than swiss cheese on a roast beef sammich.
interweb: you're just talking about porn aren't you?
me: ....yesh.....
today i have very little sleep with a forecast of awesome.
already hung the fuck out with some awesome kids, and maybe the day with continue in that manner, hopefully so.
oh, and ashes, no, i don't need to make smores/bears/poopie/doo-doo or use the little boy's room, thank you

duh duh duh (doo!) duh duh duh (doo!) doo-doo do doo-doo-do

Proto: be aware all you live little muscrats that your time here is wasted. you are no more than apathetic automatons awaiting your orders! i tried to free you, but you will not be free!
yeah, that's right, i've lost my freaggin' mind. but be forwarned, hell is coming to a halloween party near you, if you're like in richmond or lexington or something.
the epic battle that had been awaiting to erupt for centuries, or the sentry. (insert twilight zone music here)
anyway, who gets to be a backup paul bearrer (sp?) ME. it's still not sinking it, but when does it ever when you hold life at arms length.

fucking heart attacks...

...woke up to bad news, not the worst, but still bad enough. it sucks and that makes #2.
sure we weren't always inspired by your stories, and sometimes i'd roll my eyes b/c i knew there was some sort of ignorance in your voice, but not by your fault.
still i loved you like i love all my family, no matter how little i saw you, but i remember as a little kid, x-mas at grandma's was pretty fucking awesome b/c, then, you're far fetched stories and simple random facts were impressive to my little uneducated mind. not to mention, thanks for the comics, ha ha. and although you scared me a couple of times, it wasn't torture to hang out with you, ever really.
now, i'll miss the stories of your pseudo pet monkies while you were in the marines. how you explain what the grip in handshakes means. talking about you 'investments' in legos. how you thought you crashed the internet, again. your new photoshop adventure, so...yeah. it's getting hard to type this, so i'll just leave it at that.
see you around, space cowboy.

i woke up thristy

and it's always that that brings me here. headaches, moreso hardcore than i'm used to, but still not sinking to pills. i don't know what's going on. i feel a sick in my head and stomach and i know the feeling, it's familiar, but i've done nothing wrong, nothing really. but it's still there, like i'm the bastard, i'm the bad guy. maybe i am. maybe i'm just hiding something so deep, i'm confusing myself into thinking i'm innocent b/c of standards and certain rules that could and should be ignored, turning everything to my side. but what side am i on? are there even sides to be taken? seems like there always is even when there's no war or debate up for decision. who knows. maybe i'm just getting hit with a one-two from anxiety, or maybe i'm just a letting full of regret, which thus far, i've convinced myself that i've not point in dwelling on this i wish i've done differently. but then again, i do lie to myself a lot, hoping i believe every word of it. i guess it'll take more than a blog to get the heavy weight off my chest. maybe slaying something pretty.