"The sound of the tune precipitated in him a sort of ecstasy and it was with that ecstasy he viewed what happened to him now..."

"It was a mood of intense appreciation, a sense that, for once, he was magnificently attuned to life and that everything about him was radiating a brightness and glamour he might never know again."

-F. Scott Fitzgerald

tolerance...or a lack, thereof.

someday soon, i am going to murder someone.

no one will take this seriously until the day someone's blood is all over my clothes.

on that day, i will direct them to this post.

i am not lying. i am pissed off, and i grow more and more irrational by the second.

they say no one man should have all of that shit?

well i go, "but i'm not just one man, baby. i'm SCHIZO"

i find it ironic that every site under the sun (including WordPress) is blocked, yet blogspot isn't. maybe it's because blogspot fell off? i'm not sure. i could care less, though. i've found another creative outlet. the fuckery here runs rampant and i need a way to relieve the tension i amass every day from the massively collective group of fuckery-producing masses.......it's a lot of shit going on out here.

and just like that, my mind is blank.

now it isn't.

a few months ago (on another site), i wrote :

"The girl you love will never love you. She’s too busy waiting on the guy she loves to love her, but he never will. We’re all lined up single file, pining for the one in front of us, and imploring them to turn around.

I’m at the back of the line. "

well...now there's someone behind me (which is, in itself, beyond weird), and it's giving me a whole new sense of perspective. i'm literally not used to being the object of anyone's affections like this. sure i've had little moments and occurrences here and there, but it's different now. this girl really likes me, and i just kind of...well, plain and simple, i only like talking to her when i'm horny. quite fucked up, i know. that's where the insight comes in. like, what the fuck am i doing using this girl like i am? is this what it was like when i'd play do-boy to whatever girl had my heart (and my balls, it seems) in her palm?

i'm fuckin up.

The BumFuck Chronicles #2 (Blogger Redux) 8.22.10

The first version of this entry was erased due to the shitty nature of the Earle C. Clements Job Corps Academy's computer. The entry was long, detailed, and probably a very entertaining/informational read. This, the re-write, will not be.

I'll keep it short and sweet: FUCK THIS PLACE AND EVERYBODY IN HERE. I'm here to advance myself, get that check, and move the fuck on with my life. Fuck the fact that ignorance and caveman-like intelligence is the dominant trait, fuck the stuck-up fat bitches that think they're the shit (not knowing that it's only because there are so few of them here that aren't gay), fuck the shifty-ass thieves here, fuck the food, fuck the slow-ass healthcare, fuck the rules, FUCK ALL OF IT. I fucking hate this place, I really do. If it weren't for me fixing my mp3 and going to the movie room all the time, I truly believe I'd snap and kill somebody.

Fuck that loneliness too. I miss my people.

With all that said, I still refuse to leave here without my certification.

Period.

The BumFuck Chronicles (Blogger Redux) 8.10.2010

Three weeks in and it feels like three months.

Music is my escape from the constant and vast array of fuckery presented to me on a daily basis.
People here seem to forget that they came here because their options were quite slim. They're making the same mistakes that got them here. Why gamble in the room when you know the RA's just gonna come in, take the dice, take the money, and kick you out? Why would you come here and gamble/fight/FUCK UP IN GENERAL? Anyone could've easily stayed at fucking home and kept that shit there.

Shit, i'm a completely different person out here. Why? Because there's no point in traveling to the middle of BumFuck, Nowhere to fuck up in the same way that got me here. Not sure how many of my OTs will be completing their trades with me. I mean, we're supposed to stick together because we came in together and whatnot, but fuck that. I'm here for myself. I'm not here to make friends, lovers, or enemies. I'm here for myself. What's a little crushing loneliness in the face of success? Just a necessary sacrifice. I'll be fine. I've got a phone and an mp3 player.
Oh wait, I HAD an mp3 player...

don't let the pessimism fool you, I'm not giving up or leaving here until I get what I came here for.