Last night was possibly the worst night I have had in a very long time. It all started with a long work day, and a bunch of worthless customers. We had a grand total of five all day, and the only one who actually bought something came in at 4:25 (we close at 4:30) and didn't leave until well after five. From there I trekked back to my house to change out of my sweat soaked work attire (we don't have air conditioning and the building we occupy was once a refrigerated warehouse that still has six inches of foam insulation on most of the walls) and contact the people I was to be seeing that evening. My girlfriend, Alyssa had organized a few people to journey out to a little spot I had found with my friend, Graham, called the Tilted Kilt. The best way I have found to describe this place is "Hooters with kilts and green walls". This is a place you could easily see the Boondock Saints frequenting, but I digress. The first task of the evening was driving from my home in Brentwood, to my friend Anissa's in Antioch (about a twenty minute trip). Once we got there, Anissa informed Alyssa and I that before we went out that she needed to track down her boyfriend, Mike, whom she had promised to give a ride from a local bar to the downtown area to attend a friend's birthday party. This was a task within itself because nobody knew the location of the bar he was at, and he doesn't have a phone. After thirty minutes of driving up and down Murfreesboro pike without having any luck from Google Maps, Yelp, or the woman I had called who was working at the bar itself, we finally stumbled blindly into Larry's Restaurant and Lounge (I'm not kidding). Once coercing Mike into the car, he announced loudly that he wasn't going to Nashville, but was "Gonna go oyt wich'all". Also, about in the same time frame, Alyssa realized that she had also made plans with her friend Mary (thinking that her plans were for the next day) and resolved that we would bring her along with us, which meant we had to pick her up from Nolensville (another twenty minute drive from where we were). There is one thing I forgot to mention about most of Alyssa's friends, if they don't know where something is, they refuse to drive there. It's kind of like watching a three year old sit down in the middle of the cereal aisle, cross her arms and demand to be carried. Also, I don't care for Mary too much, but I'll get into that in a minute. At this point, Anissa had become so stressed out, she decided to scrub the whole mission and stayed with Mike at her apartment, leaving Alyssa and I alone with Mary.
On the drive to get Mary, I start to notice that Alyssa is staring at me. She will stare at me for long tracks of time without saying anything, as if she is trying to read my blank facial expressions. She does it mainly when she thinks I'm agitated, but she also does it when I'm doing mundane tasks like washing dishes, or even worse when I'm working out. It really bugs me when people stare at me, and people stare at me a lot because of my facial piercings, long hair, and large frame. But random strangers I can yell at or embarrass by staring back. With Alyssa I can do nothing but make an awkward situation out of something very small, or silently fume. Me being who I am went with the latter. I kept trying to tell myself that cheap beer and good music were not far away. Oh was I wrong.
Once Mary had been collected we started down the path, and so did Mary's mouth. Alyssa and Mary talk about the stupidest topics one could think of, it's actually quite painful to listen to. This pain was only made more vibrant because of a traffic jam that slowed our pace for an already lengthy trip (about forty five minutes) to a scratching crawl. And to add salt to my growing torment, they started talking about pregnancy. A previous girlfriend and I, a few years back, had lost a child in the late stages of the third trimester, so the subject of kids is a touchy one to me. I can't even be around children for more than an hour before needing a drink or a hasty escape. So being trapped in a small space with two people who were fully aware of this fact, discussing it was torture. After starting this little adventure around 5:30, at approximately 10:00 we finally reached the pub. And to my stomach's joy the grill was still open. Even though I had personally gave them the run down of how this establishment did it's business (Hooters with kilts) they both still shot me the "Are you kidding me?" feminazi glances. After wrestling with finding our server and trying to hear my guests grumble a conversation I wasn't invited into, I got my hamburger and my beer and I was content. Until of course our waitress decided to pop a squat at our table. At first I thought she was dumb, and boy was I wrong. She had originally lost favor with our table by not acknowledging us at first and being a bit daft about the menu. I didn't recognize her sitting with us as a ploy for a better tip at first, but it became blatantly obvious as I listened to her talk to Mary and Alyssa (I again wasn't invited into the conversation). Before three minutes had passed, she dropped on the girls that she had a five month old baby at home, but was getting a tumor removed. She didn't know if it was malignant. Surprised? I could see her stock portfolio rising rapidly. But I had to give it to her, my companions aren't easily hoodwinked, Alyssa particularly. This didn't stop for some time, so again I was subject to hearing about all the joys of children I was robbed of. Once again perpetuated by people that knew extensively of my past. I had to excuse myself outside because I was afraid I might lose my cool. After about fifteen minutes of talking on the phone I came back inside, I paid my tab and we left. Mark my words, I will never go out with the two of them again, under no circumstance or reason. Have a good day.

First Xanga post

Friday, January 23, 2004

Last night I went out with my viking friend, Boreka, to a satanic solstos ritual in downtown nashville next to a KKK owned truck stop. The preist was incredably intoxicated and accidently lit the sacrifice on fire before killing her, so needless to say we had to catch a flaming naked women. That bitch got melted skin all over my god damn leather pants. It took about thirty minutes for the fire to char down her nerves, so that made it easier for the fat black guy that never talks to slice her head off with his katana. After we left I dropped my pants off at the dry cleaners and picked up som'ore from my house. I got my dad to loan me twenty bucks (stole) then Boreka and I went and got some cheap vodka. Boreka got mad at a random padestrian and stabbed me in the eye. I have to go to the doctor today. I would've gone last night but I was too tired.

Inspired by Kitty (recovered from Xanga)

Tuesday, January 27, 2004

My demon called me today. He said that our father below isn't happy with the polls. I'm going to see Mari tonight. I've seen her the past seven nights. She is such a freak. How much of a freak you ask? I will answer with a question, how many people have asked you to staple them to a wall with steak knifes and spank them with a lamp? Shes odd to say the least, but in the words of Hunter S. Thomson: "(She's) a rare breed...too weird to live, to unique to die." But still, I need to find someone that isnt turned on by being fucked by a heated hair curler.

untitled (recovered from Xanga)

Wednesday, February 04, 2004

The other day when my friend Tasha and I went down to the local mortuary to get a birthday gift for my mom, this wigger dude with blood dripping down his nose walked up to us and and asked me to light his cigarette. Naturaly I refused because he was cracked out of his mind and it was allready lit. He took a swing at me only landing him in one of Tasha's headlocks. So I got a free present for my mom! In the process of putting him into the car, Tasha bit a hole in his ankle. Bastard was bleeding the entire way home. We made a nice chair out of him. Email me and I'll send you a picture. After we cleaned up the workroom Tasha went home, and I started out to a party my preist was having up the road. First I had to go by McDonalds and pick Boreka up from work. The stupid idoit had been getting complaints all day that the kool-aid machine had been spiked with some Portirican rum, so he was trying to hang himself with french fries. I paid for that rum too. Happy Birthday Mom!

untitled (recovered from Xanga)

Friday, May 07, 2004

To remove the scrotum from a young adult would be one of the goriest sights imaginable. And I dont mean just a clean cut with all the toppings, just the skin. There is alot of tissue there, it would bleed quite profusely. If you didnt die during the process of the malpracticed surgery, you wouldnt have that long to retreive hospital care before all of your veins purged themselves of all their innerbeing, leaving them a worthless shell of mass, mocking your sufficating cells. I wonder how it would feel to have unsheithed testicules dangling from between your legs. I bet it would tickle.

Ozzman (recovered from Xanga)

Friday, July 23, 2004

Ozzfest kicked my fuckin ass. If you've ever wondered what its like to be put into an oven, go to a festival where Hatebreed is playing and push up to the front. I guarantee you its not hard to get up there, just hard to say. Word of advice: if you go to Ozzfest and plan to spend time near the second stage, bring a bandana or something of the sort to cover your nose and mouth. There is a lot of dust in the air, and its not fun when your moshing your intestines out and you take a great big breath of crushed gravel.

Hungover... (recovered from Xanga)

Have you ever got a hangover so intense that you say "fuck it" to waiting it out and purge, but to your glorious amazement there isnt anything in you stomach to purge, so you're just bent over the toilet feeling like your liver itself is about to exit through your mouth to kick your ass? Maybe this is a sign that I should stop drinking....

Find the hidden message (recovered from Xanga)

How why and why does it seem,
All is how it has been
I have been gone so long that the right has turned wrong
Lest the wrong has merely turned right

Somehow it doesnt feel right when I go back to this place
All that was, is no longer in its space
The bed is where it should,
All the books havent moved, even if they could
Nothing does seem as it should

For how long has my presence been gone?
Uplifting the notes of its sorrowfull song
Can I find the time
Keep up the rhyme
Eraseing the picture, the perverted elixer
Righting the photo again

Shameless Self-Plug (recovered from Xanga)

All my Norsk Arysk Blak Metll brothers and sisters, come forth. Do you find yourself sitting infront of a TV with a horn of mead on New Years Eve? While all of your older, richer friends go out and get drunk and sacrifice a swine, you sit at home wishing you had something to do? Wish no more, because now you do. If you have a thirst for late night cemetary dwelling and Jager, come down to Murfreesburo for an all night black metal festival. We will be playing live black metal, drinking to Odin's desire, all in a cemetary about fifteen minutes away from the campus of Middle Tennessee State University. Come only if you have a love or respect for pure, cult Norse Aryan Black Metal. If you aren't twenty one, come early to throw down. There is a town near by, so steps will be taken to make sure we won't be arrested. Contact me at vomitingblood@gmail.com if you have questions or need directions. NORSK ARYSK BLAK METLL!! RAARRRRR!!!

Drain cleaner (recovered from Xanga)

Well, I finaly fucking did it...I washed myself useing steel wool. It hurt like hell untill the nerve endings in my skin died. That was a bitch, and now I've got a lot of blood and hair clogging up my drain. Its gonna take me at least an hour to convince the plumber that I didn't kill someone. God that dude is such a pussy. Last time I had him over here, the time I lit our sacrifice on fire and through it in the tub unawares that Boreka had filled it up with tequila jello shots, he nearly fainted when he saw the bathroom. It was ridiculous! The man was acting like he had never seen a drunk viking nawing on a chared goat before.

The Agnostic Nihilist (recovered from Xanga)

*Nihilism is the belief that nothing we perceive has Absolute value; reality exists, but beyond its inherent meaning to us as the physical container of our existence, it has no significance outside of what we perceive. "The world is my representation," indeed. When we strip away all of the values projected onto physical reality and its outcomes by nature, we are left only with personal ideal and natural ideal, and bringing the former into adaptation with the latter is the lifetime task to which nihilism is a gateway.

*Agnosticism is not a religion or complete ethical system. It is simply a belief that we cannot prove either the existence or the non-existence of deity; (i.e. of one or more gods, one or more goddesses, or combinations of the above). Many Agnostics believe that we can never know about the existence of a deity. Others suggest that we cannot know anything about deity or deities at this time with the currently available evidence, but that this could conceivably change in the future.

A fine careful mixture of these two beliefs starts to define my own spirtual conatation. Both of these two idealisms center faintly on that the idea of a higher power is simply inconsivable. Being a cumbersome christian for the majority of my life I simply cannot absorb the idea that there is no higher power, but what idea I find myself standing on is that it is inconciveable to give the deity a name or a gender. I also believe that if there is a higher power it could not possibly be one omnipotent spirit, but rather an oligarchy of the spirits living, and long since passed. And not just of human spirts, or even of animals, but all living and dead lifeforms that ever excisted on any planet. This would make the deity I speak of seem at times and untill Ragnorak (end of the world, apocalypse, etc etc) incomplete, but this brings me to my next point.
Time is not lunar, at least not in my little world. It is instead circular. All the deicitions of any individual have allready been made. The Earth's creation, destruction and everything inbetween has allready happened. The reason time seems lunar to us is because reality and the sence of reality is played out for each indiviual. Invision yourself in a chair watching a huge revolving picture wheel. The wheel is there and has the visions of our reality because they have already happened, but are being revealed as if the hour we were living in was the oldest the earth had ever been.

I'll edit this later, im tired of thinking about it.

Incestuous Interests

More and more things keep falling off the scales, weighing out wether or not I should leave Nashville. In reality, the only two things keeping me here are my dwindling number of friends, and the futile hopes of helping create a better metal scene. There is simply nothing to do, and no one thats willing to use the energy to start anything new. Thats the only reason I even find myself out at Salvation, rubbing elbows with the elegance and crushed velvet. Keeping up with the trends and the gossip has rotted my brain to the point that it has completely hindered me from being able to hold a decently intelligent conversation. Either that or the fact that I can't say two words before Sam or one of her friends interrupts me to say something painfully off topic. Which of course no one cares that it angers me so badly, because apparently I am amusing when I'm pissed of. If I wasn't, why would everyone laugh? So I stay quiet till someone says the inevitable: "If you have a problem, you can always talk to me." but then they interrupt me before I can get anything off my chest. I don't expect anything different from Cali, but then again no one should expect something from a complete stranger that they should from a friend of many years. And that is exactly what some of these people are to me now, just as good as strangers. Except these strangers have known me for years, we owe each other money, and have spent many nights staying up to talk on the phone.

The only differences between Nashville and Cruz that I noticed is that you are more inclined to see a flag bearing metal head, I didn't see ONE emo/goth, and there is more genuine energy. And thats the key people, energy. Nashville sucks it out of people, keeping them feeling old and tired, and thats why there is never anything new coming out the southeast except for porn.

Chill out (recovered from myspace)

I want someone to seriously sit down with me and help me understand why everyone losses their minds when it comes to politics. You have never met so many Political Science majors until something in the world of CNN shifts. Like when, just as an example, Obama signs over tobacco legislation and jurisdiction over to the FDA.

You can yell and scream and bitch and whine and cry and piss yourself all you want, but two simple facts will not change: ONE (and the most important to remember) Youtube ISN'T an operable form of soapbox to lobby the federal government with. In short, all that time you spent yelling at your webcam, writing blogs, and arguing with loved ones over the issue has rounded up to get you absolutely nothing. Good job.

SECOND: I have heard from more than one person their disdain for Obama allowing this, because he has better things to take care of. And I agree, he has lots more, and better, things to take care of. We are at war with almost and entire continent, our healthcare system is in shambles, and the only thing separating the banking community from the torches and pitchforks of an angry mob is Obama's own administration. The thing is, thats what he's taking care of... right now... What the FDA is doing, is their prerogative. Saying that "Obama doesn't need to worry about tobacco" is like saying "What the hell is that DMV worker doing at the DMV?? He's a governmental employee!! Doesn't he know there is a war going on??" Make sense to you? Doesn't make much to me either... and I thought of the analogy.

Obama isn't worrying about tobacco, the FDA is, and has been solely since this whole fiasco started. In conclusion, if you didn't know anything about politics before, you still don't. Watching CSpan doesn't make you an expert. Furthermore, if you want to get into politics, a rule of thumb I generally follow is to look up something you hear before you go on a ti-raid about it. Especially when you hear it from your church's Pastor, or the dreadlocked girl who wears hemp everything that works at the Starbucks you frequent. Just a thought.

PS: Everyone PLEASE, chill out! Politics don't have to be painful! Just stop shouting GODDAMNIT!!

Nice guys finish last... (recovered from my myspace)

And do you know why? It's not because women enjoy being treated like shit (well... some of them do...), and it's not because you haven't been able to find "the one". I'd honestly put money on the idea that most men (or women for that matter) have found or even been with a person that they could happily spend the rest of their life with. The reason "Nice people" finish last isn't because they're nice, its because they put up the least amount of resistance to a confrontation. And that my students, is the aftermath of any relationship between two humans, confrontation. If there wasn't any, it would only be because: A) One or both subjects have absolutely no personality, or B) One of them is a huge push over. Often times when I hear the above mentioned phrase, it is usually the latter. This doesn't bother me in the least. It is just a fact of life that I as well as every other fucker on earth has to deal with. The only reason I cared as much to write this speech about it is because I'm tired of hearing people bitch about it. And don't give me that "Its not FAIR! Cinderella didn't have to put up with this shit!" because it is fair, this is in fact something I would call completely balanced. If you think it isn't, you aren't taking into your selfish equation that the person you are dyeing to be with and dedicate your every waking hour to make happy, has their own emotions, opinions, and thoughts about what they want in a relationship. I guess what I'm trying to say is that we need to gather all of these immature bastards together and ship them off to Disney world where they will be happy and won't bother the rest of us.