Saturday, December 13, 2014

first-world problems

some say, "only boring people get bored."

the maladaptive reply, "fuck you!"

or, "be grateful."

to wit, "eat shit and die motherfucker!"

however, 

there is plenty to discredit in how ingratitude can deform inaction, and misshape passive detraction from a group. being happy, one must forget ways to stay reactively disengaged from  unnatural mood-diminishment. there's drugs, therapy, and thought-experiments that are panacea for capriciousness. this is the opposite of maladjustment. but discarding something let-go-of, like a literal handrail, will always misguide one into darkness. this can be as complicated as foul air, a bad-book, or an enemy. anything done the same way, or in one's comfort-zone can be a weak trapdoor farther from destruction. taking no time upon sleeping to forgo breathing can be the start of an unfocused and unproductive evening.

leaving the bed unmade also keeps one sedentary at night.

but consistency is easy. having been lastly addicted to delayed-masochism, it's easy to get ahead in these complicated perfections, and trudge that final ripple of depression they diminish. the trick isnt the short game. rarely destroying infinite changes eliminates old pathways to slavery and consternation.  


Thursday, December 4, 2014

Lazy-Bowel Syndrome in Constipation Nation

we'd like to retract the previous assertion made here that natural bowel movements are primitive and obsolete.

although anecdotal, and based on this authors experience, we now believe there is an intrinsic link between bowels and mind. that perhaps the peristalsis required to naturally evacuate one's bowels also activates a certain mental peristalsis to eliminate waste from the brain? as such, when one becomes physically dependent upon unnatural evacuation, intestinal peristalsis is no longer required and shuts-down. this inadvertently causes the mind to shut-down some as yet unknown mechanism of purging subliminal data. much like dreams being consciousnesses' natural "de-fragging" processes. perhaps the insomnia-caused psychosis is the inability to de-frag, and the inability to eliminate waste naturally causes an inability to delete those de-fragged files? maybe there's an unnatural method for deleting the mind's recycle-bin? drugs?

"you have too much free-time."

no shit. 

Tuesday, December 2, 2014

time-trudging...

I remember my dad helping me with my first car. it was an old heap, but he helped me pass inspection and be safe. he took great care to make things right with limited resources. I believe he also enjoyed the time spent together on the project. tonight I remembered being so selfish and self-absorbed, that I just wanted the car on the road so I could hang out with friends and get high.

I inevitably crashed that car showing-off in front of people. I remembered feeling terrible about messing up the car, but I also scored a pocketful of cocaine that night. this was the first time I consciously used a drug to really change a feeling found inconvenient. 

when I finally told my parents about the car my father sarcastically told me, "that's okay. your still cool." he must've known me well enough to know how this would hurt me. I've always held on to this resentment towards him for saying that, and have even said it back to him as a joke.

tonight I had a glimpse of what it must've been like for him. I felt the probable hurt to his feelings by me being an ungrateful and irresponsible shit. I wish I can tell him how much those moments mean to me now. how I am aware of all the sacrifices my parents made, e.g., so much time and energy spent on my fleeting interests and capricious whims. all the times I've used them, their stuff, time, and how they were always willing, even knowing I probably wouldn't reciprocate or fully appreciate it.

I do tell him I love him now. I also tell him he's a good man. sometimes this gets through to him and I see a glimpse of my da still in there. 

I also needed to write it down and send it out into the universe. let the universe hear and know this feeble apology to my da for being inconsiderate, selfish, ungrateful, and irresponsible. and for also not expressing my gratitude and respect earlier and more frequently in my life.

thanks dad. your a good man.

Saturday, November 29, 2014

starvation mode...

"hello sloth, I am gluttony."

[we're going to bust out of this narrative and speak in the intimate manner customary philistines.] 

after capricious whimsy an no forethought, we stopped eating. a false look back at earlier blights occluded the unclear desire for flailing inaction on this matter. it confuses an uncertain and inelegant nonsense. lastly is the inexplicable repulsion to starvation as the least significant no-thing to not-do. the least ____. the less ____. the last ____.

here goes nothing!

we'll check in to track events daily. we won't stop until famine. there's something magical at the end of this. a feral funeral to behold. to be held up above the pyre like an ornament from ancient something-or-other. fuck knows. 

hunger is righteous.

empty is to be. 

being empty being.


Wednesday, November 26, 2014

restrict. binge. purge. repeat...

imagine a peice of pumpkin-pie with whipped-cream, ice-cream, apple-crisp, hot-chocolate, a sloppy-joe, pizza, sausage, peppers, bread, cookies, yogurt, granola, a muffin, bananas, cheese, coffee & loads of diet soda all mixed together in a cheap blender and poured into a bowl, with bile and mucus. 

force it through an aperture the size of a dime, with chyme, blood, bowel and gut flora. rotten putrescence. the mixed-bag is squeezed, bursts out the cyclops' angry eye, mired-brown, purple, pink, and steaming. 

what a waste. 




Saturday, October 25, 2014

suicide or euthanasia?

wanting to die is a reason to live. 

it's better to never have been at all. 

but, we can't always get what we want. 

and, some rarely get anything. 

some suffer from birth.

some never knew desire.

to long - is to live. 

I want... 

therefore I am. 





Thursday, September 25, 2014

combat journal remix


HENCEFORTH___FRAGMENT___RECONST___RAID___BIOS___>...<Journal/"Priv@e Guhhes"/>___
/
Me. 18  Makara 721.8
[Enceladus]
(2km south of Samark+Sulci [APPROX])
/
just finished rehearsal for possible cordon/search-mission coming up. i think we're in the chute for search squad  which be@s the h3ll out of sitting outside waiting for kiposecs wondering wh@ the h3ll's going on inside. this is all tent@ive. it will change. it always does. i meant to start this journal a long time ago when we first started training in scorpius. then i said i'll wait till we hit the ice here. alas i was just too damned lazy. i've been sick since vrishika.  possibly acute coryza/influenza/streptococcal pharyngitis...? the medics are mostly useless. so laziness +procrastin@ion are why this journal took a month to get started. +i thought it might be boring. now i think the opposite. as well as my only c@harsis. /p/ I brought the quitar  but my only sols to play are the 1.5 @Boundiron. there's just to few precious plancks +too many around to practice the way i would like to. +practicing would constitute sitting in the room around people i would like to get away from  +details i'd like to avoid. we spend 4 sols here near Samark+Sulci  +2 back @Boundiron. ‘R+R’ wh@ever th@ means. +after you -recovery/refit/guard/hygiene you'd have about 4 kips left. -sleep  -e@ing if you choose. you're left w/about 2 kays to yourself. then ya gotta drop +pick up clean gills... blah  bleh  blooh... I usually buy some snaks  drop off my films  +try to c@ch a hologrok or two if i can. hologs are wonderful things  because for a few plancks or two you forget where you are. i forget the appar@us  the azzholez  the stink of rotten skingills  and everything! /p/ FVCK ENCELADUS. FVCK S@URN. +FVCK THE ARMY. hologs take me back to times where i enjoyed living. /p/ the sync is a gambit. let's say you're miserable. you could do wh@ you're already doing and stay miserable. or  you can walk through the quagmire th@'s Camp Boundiron  get to the sync + there's a Q out the fvcking lock or even worse you sit down +plug in the DSN + get some fucking memcord. now ya leave dejected + resentful. i've been lucky. i got through every chance. there's nothing better than talking to the momwife when you're surrounded by such hopeless chaos. /p/ the 4 sols in town consist of 2 sols of guard p@rol +walk around town w/way too much gear + look for baddies. mounted is much better. drive around town w/too much gear looking for baddies. guard is essentially... guard. sit in a stinky plystic shack +ponder ways to go home early or go to ranger school. i'll never underst+ th@. i sit +soldream about going home by any means necessary. +then a few plancks l@er i'll be thinking about how hot it would be to be a ranger or SF or some sh1t. maybe i'm on the spectrum? cuz' i can barely hack walking around this town. /p/ the Samark+Sulci used to be ok. i kinda liked it better than Boundiron. @ least here i knew wh@ to expect: dismounted svcks. mounted is hot. but in between you could warm. unless you get herringed into a detail like chow or some sh1t. so there's sorta a schedule +if ya plan right +hide right one can get plenty of sleep here. then everything changes. i think our leadership thought this to be a lot more difficult. then they found out it wasn't th@ bad  joe was having fun. +if joe is having fun then joe get's lazy +shoots his brother in the back. complacency.  my theory on complacency: one cannot become complacent if one never cared. /p/ they started making things harder. now we can’’t give the kids anything. can't ever talk to anyone. all our sh1t has to be 'dress-right' in this piece of sh1t r@/crap dusty/tombs we're in. sweep +mop after every p@rol. i'm such a fvcking smartazz i'm leaving all my gear on all the time. let my skingills rot. they can cut my corpse out. i'm just a priv@e though. maybe i'm wrong about it all? maybe there are aliens out there with orders to kill us. it just sounds a lot like a momwife using scare-tactics to get their chilrens to behave properly. th@'s wh@ officers are  frustr@ed parents. all of them. the NCOs too. they b1tch about the officers but the keep re-enlisting. /p/ some interesting sh1t has gone down here in the last month. we hear gyshots occasionally but see no geysers. one guy shot a r@. lucky fvck. +a bomb went off 300 meters from our basecamp. i slept through it. i thought my buddies were overreacting as usual. they weren't. picked a guy up th@ got blowed/up by a mine. he saw it in a field +threw a snowball @ it. we were first to him. fvcker walked like 30 klicks till he found us. he was smoking +sh1t. weird. fvckin blood all over. so mines are real. there was a mine in town. didn't see it. didn't care too. so sh1t is happening. i don't want to forget it. so my purpose of this journal is facts. wh@ i did. wh@ happened. +so forth. i'll try to limit opinions +feelings. but it's difficult. time to p@rol. 2-3 BAR out
/
HERETOFORE_____FRAGMENT_____>...<Journal/"Priv@e Guhhes"/>