| It's come to this |
[May. 17th, 2008|04:30 pm] |
Sigh alone now.
I give up.
I hope you all kill each other. |
|
|
| They made a statue of us |
[Jan. 29th, 2007|03:12 am] |
"This is how it works
It feels a little worse"
There's no higher form of flattery than imitation.
And yet, I think I should be different.
I think maybe something could be better.
It could have been flawless.
Other people might ignore the flaws.
I love them.
To an extent.
Everyone I used to know on this website is gone.
Sometimes, I've been able to track where they've gone.
It's a strange situation.
Some of them are highly successful in their own right.
Some have had really rough times.
I miss them, even though I could reach out and touch some of them.
I'm pretty sure a lot of people hate me.
But they hate me for the right reasons.
They hate me for who I am.
It's beautiful on a level I never really contemplated before.
And I wish I could change ...
But I guess this is what got me here.
"I have dreams of orca whales and owls
But I wake up in fear
You will never be my
You will never be my
You will never be my dear, dear friend." |
|
|
| A passionate spirit |
[Jul. 4th, 2006|05:50 am] |
I keep thinking that this is a new low.
Like I've never felt so alone in my life.
"If he is with me, who can stand against me?"
What is this?! Why me? Why now?
Everything is so empty.
Myself especially. |
|
|
| I don't want to be alone when I tell this story |
[May. 4th, 2006|12:53 am] |
Two things.
Dear Tool fanboys:
Shut up.
Your pal,
Kyle
Example:
"OMG IF YOU PLAY LATERALUS IN A CERTAIN ORDER YOU'LL TRIP!"
... trip on your own two feet into a ditch where I will harvest your organs for needy hookers who serve more of a purpose than you did.
Second thing.
It calls to me.
A voice that sounds like... melted butter on hot, fresh pancakes, a side of strawberries with whipped cream, orange juice, milk, and a warm gun.
The best way to go. |
|
|
| A-buh? It is happening... again. |
[Mar. 29th, 2006|03:15 pm] |
So again, I have checked this site nearly everyday.
And I keep thinking: I just wrote in this journal.
Turns out it's been a month or so.
So... something is very askew in my sense of time.
And my friends page has been blank for a very long time now as well.
I could add myself so that I could at least see this post.
Or I could realize all my problems aren't so bad.
And if I were a real man (human being as it may be) I would face them and be glorious in my ... glory.
As you may presently yourself be fully aware of my grammar sucks. |
|
|
| Is it safe for now? |
[Feb. 27th, 2006|01:59 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | heavy | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Buckethead - Frankenseuss Laboratories | ] |
I come on this site nearly everyday. If not everyday. I don't like exaggerating. Is it exaggerating to guess but cut yourself short of admitting your obsessive behavior, when in fact that's what it is?
I keep thinking: write out the plot. Write an intro. Get this script thing rolling. Get this novel thing rolling.
And it may be narcissistic of me, to believe that someone would steal my work, but it's a real threat to me.
My writing is all I have. It's the only thing no one can take away from me legally. You can have it, if you kill me. (Which may or may not be against the law anymore.)
New utility laws are in effect. Depending on how useful you are to the world, we'll determine whether or not it's a crime for you to be killed.
It's kind of like an inverse bounty. But then of course, us useless folk would be given something to do. Hunt each other down. Manhunt indeed. Every idea has already been taken.
Mine are just the regurgitations of everything good I've ever witnessed.
And unconsciously I've witnessed a lot of amazing things. Talent, quirks, attributes, faults and events.
Characters too unbelievable to still believe they were real people.
Hallucinations too real to believe they were fake.
I am not an observer. I am not a journalist. I don't report truth. My reality is an opinion.
Only when I compare myself to others do I begin to fully grasp how completely useless I've become.
I think there was a time when I was useful. Or maybe I just occupied myself from realizing it incredibly well.
Maybe we're all just good at that.
The world can't all of a sudden realize there's no point to existing and change it.
I can't all of a sudden realize I'm good for nothing and change it.
This feels like a part of me.
This feels like it's going to be hard to quit.
This was depression.
It doesn't matter how much you think about anything, the feelings you have about things are yours & yours alone to live with.
And my feelings on that[my usefulness] were ignored before this point.
Now I want to forget.
Maybe when I go to sleep.
Maybe in my dreams.
Maybe when I wake up.
I won't remember what it means to be useless anymore.
Will this only serve as a reminder?
Is that all you are all for? Is that depression's real burden? Every single person's existence is my reminder of inferiority.
I could love you. But every other man alive could do it better. |
|
|
| But you, you were my favorite |
[Jan. 18th, 2006|04:41 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  annoyed | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Coheed & Cambria - The Crowing | ] |
This problem with living you've convinced yourself you have is all in your mind.
You once knew, without thinking, what the right thing to do was.
Since then your perspective has changed, clashed with itself again & again on top of each other until there is no clear cut winner.
So accept defeat. Become quick on the trigger again. At least you won't stand still with the future looming on your shoulders, weighing you down.
It's the only way to stay ahead, make the choice before overanalyzation sets in.
Make it now.
"Good eye sniper
Now I shoot, and you run
The words you scribbled on the walls
With the loss of friends, you didn't have
I'll call you when the time is right
Are you in or are you out
for them all to know the end of us all
Bye, bye beautiful
Don't bother to write" |
|
|
| And I'll wait for you |
[Dec. 4th, 2005|07:06 am] |
|-----9--9--9h11------------------------------|
|7------------------11---9--9h11-11--11---9--|
Does it repeat? Into infinity. Into ambient beauty. Into the soundtrack to my calm in solitude. It's simple. But it's me.
I guess I got lucky that my G string (tee-hee) wasn't out of tune on this particular 6:47 am befuddled attempt at musical expression.
Because it sounded good, and it's reproducable.
So much of what I've ever done has been short-minded.
Feel better now, stop dwelling on depression now, divert my attention now.
Problematic diversion without end-scenario planning.
Why are there always better words? More exact & precise & god I just want it all to come out right for once. |
|
|
| stupid |
[Nov. 26th, 2005|02:26 pm] |
"Maybe this is all there is."
This seemed to be the unspoken consensus.
No one saw each other for who they really were anymore. Now they're all just each other's puppets.
I'm shaped by your expectations, just as you are from mine.
"Maybe this life is all we have. And when we die; people will look at us and touch us, but we won't be looking or touching back."
Seeing corpses does little but remind us of the definitions to words no one ever uses when they're exuberant with life.
Decay. Embalm. Mortality.
But that's all it takes. It's petrifying and destabilizing in and of itself.
"You grow old, but your life is already over. And once you realize this, you understand all that's left for you is to pass life on. You'll never see youth again, so you recreate it through your children. It's the saddest attempt at immortality ever conceived." |
|
|
| The first significant step |
[Oct. 30th, 2005|05:10 am] |
I've been depressed for three years now.
I never really thought about seriously getting treatment until now.
And just the thought of getting better, of no longer feeling this way, makes me laugh/cry simultaneously.
I feel lighter. I haven't even done anything, except realize I need help.
Is it supposed to be like this? (Am I supposed to feel this way?) |
|
|
| If the cars drove themselves, way to be! |
[Sep. 26th, 2005|02:51 am] |
Kyle
From the strait : Irish
You are a deep thinker and student of life using your intuition and natural detective ability to seek truth and hidden knowledge. Peaceloving and compassionate you are nonetheless strong-willed and courageous in confronting challenges. Although your approach to life tends to be on a mental level it is important for you to see your ideas and concepts take form in the material world. Your talents and leadership skills give you great potential for a distinguished career.
Michael
Like the Lord : Hebrew
Creative, versatile and imaginative you appreciate beauty in all forms. You have great inner strength and courage and have the ability to accept large responsibilities or challenging situations with patience and humility. Others admire these qualities and follow your lead. You are honest, discerning and self-disciplined and need to have a peaceful environment. Putting others before self your talents are used to make life better for everyone.
Culver
Dove, peaceful : English
You are fairminded, wise and peaceloving and are always willing to help others. Your mental capabilities and creativity are well marked with wonderful and original ideas which you need to bring to tangible fruition. Perceptive and understanding of others your positive approach to life and influential nature means that you have leadership qualities. There is great potential for success both financially and spiritually. |
|
|
| |
[Sep. 21st, 2005|11:46 pm] |
Dear friends:
Dear misery. Dear sadness. Dear depression. Dear anxiety. Dear regret. Dear missed opportunity.
I'm letting go of you all today.
I'm putting you in your place, away from happiness.
Away from my sunshine. I've had enough of listening to your lies.
I'm not who you say I am. I'm not who all those people said I was in the past. I'm not my father. I'm not my mother. I'm not some fucking guinnea pig, 23 pairs of chromosomes set in stone.
I'm not who you think I am and I'm not who I used to think I am.
I won't miss you. I'm just going to be sad when it's time to be sad.
I'm going to see you all, again. You know it. I know it. But you're not going to be in control anymore.
Maybe... maybe...
I'll miss you. |
|
|
| Still trying to get to part 2 |
[Sep. 13th, 2005|03:12 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  awake | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Crossfade - Colors | ] |
Well, as a preface, this started as a bad movie plot and slowly transformed into something else. Deal with it.
open at a funeral
everyone crying except
one man, so numb and out of touch with true emotion he can only stand there
his mind is somewhere else, anywhere else but on the casket being lowered in front of him
It's only fitting to start the story here. Death is the beginning to a lost soul.
It gives purpose to the drifting, shape to nothingness.
"How selfish," he thought as he watched the tears falling around him lift from the ground to form a transparent sphere of forgotten memories hanging next to the clouds.
Staring into that psychotically dreamt ball of tears he remembers his own life, his own tears, his contribution to society as a heart transplant patient remembers their life before the surgery. Like an addict remembers their life before the halfway house.
Detachment is a temporary state prior to feeling utterly absent in your present bodily form. Worse than playing with fire, detaching yourself because of fear will leave you like this. A soulless ghost of who you once were. Smiling in photographs, laughing at jokes, orgasming out of something other than obligation.
"Putting on the charade," he reassures himself.
This soullessness is his truth in life. 40 hours of whoring yourself to the ideals and goals of a chartered company whose CEO will be sure to cut everyone's Christmas bonus so he can get his son-in-law a membership at the country club. Fucking prick.
Real outrage, anger and resentment manages to escape into the normal world sometimes. The common folk call it "crime". He calls it uncalculated out lashes that should have been corralled into an unemployed and working class revolution.
"I'm so sorry for your loss."
"Thank you. He was a good man. I'm glad we could all be here to remember just how good." Just a pre-programmed response. He didn't even look up to identify which woman's voice was trying to sound sympathetic. He spent all of a few hundred nano-seconds processing the grief in his brain. While he can spend god-knows how long debating some non-existent working class revolution to give balance to the world. And then it hits him. Epiphany Today's front page article with his dumbfounded face plastered in scandal black & white. |
|
|
| interpretive hopelandic |
[Aug. 21st, 2005|07:56 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  contemplative | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Sigur Ros - Vaka | ] |
You sat along the fire
You saw the line
You saw
You sat along the fire
You saw the lie
You're so... you're so far along
You saw the lie
You saw
You saw us alone
You saw us alone
You saw...
You sat along the fight
You saw the light
You're so..
You sat along the fire
You sew the light
You sew..
You suffer
You sew the light
You sew...
You saw us along..
You saw us along
You sew...
You sat alone.
What did I see?
You sat alone without us here
You sat alone without much sleep |
|
|
| I start attacking my vodka, stab the ice with my straw |
[Aug. 8th, 2005|06:15 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  apathetic | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Iron & Wine - Jezebel | ] |
So I'm asking you, God, show me something.
A respectful demand.
You chime in with "isn't all their unconditional love a sign of divine inspiration?"
I don't think so. Let's not confuse loyalty with unconditional love. Millions followed Hitler loyaly and look how that turned out. I realize a theological God is very different from an actual person, much less a person who was a practicioner of genocide.
It's okay if your silence is screaming inside
There's this new kind of action it's better than running & hiding
It's called apathy and it comes with a side
of large cynicism.
I've had my fair share of revelations, but I've never been fully captivated by one of you. You know, like one of those I'm scared of sinning ones.
I want faith in a supersized quantity. I want it to be of everlasting quality. Open my third eye. Give me a glimpse.
Cause if you don't, how am I supposed to believe?
I don't want to be another sheep in a herd, following orders from an enigmatic leader to an unforeseeable end. You know what happens when people do that.
Sorry Jews. |
|
|
| Have I failed somehow or someway? Will the weight of today finally pull me down to drown in the depths of despair? |
[Aug. 4th, 2005|02:21 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  pissed off | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Nick Drake - Things Behind the Sun | ] |
Strangeness sets in like a shadow on an unsuspecting sunny day.
Welcome shade? Unannounced dark tides of the apocalypse?
Just a fucking shadow buddy.
I wish I knew what brought about my convictions, my mind is very stubborn, and at the moment, it seems to be stuck on NOT BEING A PRODUCTIVE HUMAN BEING. Which makes me Hate you Kyle. I fucking Hate who you've become.
Yea, you are making advances, but you're also remaining fucking stagnant. No progress. No results. Fuck you buddy.
Go make something of yourself.
I am alone.
Except for my rage.
MY RAGE!
MY PAIN!
I hate my darkest days. |
|
|
| It's simpler when you're stupider |
[Jun. 20th, 2005|06:39 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | succumbing | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Bright Eyes - A Line Allows Progress, A Circle Does Not | ] |
I'm done feeling like a skeleton
no more sleep walking death
I'm gonna wake from this coma
I'm gonna crawl from this bed I've made
YOU WON'T EVER REMEMBER WHAT YOU CHOOSE TO FORGET |
|
|
| |
[Apr. 20th, 2005|01:46 pm] |
There's this cloud over my head
it threatens to rain on my parade
if I ever have one
I wish it would just get it over with
but then I think that about a lot of things
Life, just get over with.
I never liked thinking about the afterlife
who knows what it entails
I do know that whatever it is
it seems like anything has to be more comfortable than this place
Maybe this is as close to belonging as you get
Pardon the distraction
I just don't understand why
the more I live
the less I'm alive |
|
|
| I take a breath... I pull the air until there's nothing left |
[Mar. 26th, 2005|01:42 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  chipper | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Sleeping In - The Postal Service | ] |
So. BURBUBAH! BABY!
So when's that BABY due?
You ever feel a word slipping out that you didn't want to say but you're already saying it so it just comes out louder?
BubauasdhasabahBAH! BABY!!!!
I believe the rule on that is: don't ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever assume that. Ever. Ever ever. I must have not memorized enough ever's.
Hey when's that BABY due?
"What baby?"
:: hughhuhghugh ::
At the zoo! The pandas! I knew they were trying to have one, I just you know, thought we'd talk about em. Talk about the fluffy zoo animals that they... I hear they got em over there... you can go look at em.. and if you want.. touch em.
So, that's Brian Regan. He's hilarious. Check him out. Not sexually.
I am basically posting to say that you are all big dumb trouts, and if you are already on myspace.com and haven't added me: I hate you for said reason. And if you're like myspace.what? Then please mosey on over to http://www.myspace.com.
Once there, fill out your profile, upload a photo, and promptly scurry over to my profile and add me. As long as you meet my friend requirements stated herein to be: A) Not crazy. B) Awesomely crazy. C) Crazily Awesome.
My profile linkabober: http://profiles.myspace.com/users/7372535
I think that should do it for now. I hope everyone's lives are living out wonderfully. |
|
|