so uncertain about where i’m going
???
i can feel the soil falling over my head
stop trying to interpret me and just give me a hug for chrisssake child
xxx
I’m happy but I’d hardly call this dancing as such November 29, 2009
I think I liked you more when you were worse
dddbbb
Right.
So.
Gongsun Long.
Step in the stream. Step in it again. Can you say that you’re stepping in the same stream each time. You know that paradox, yeah? Look up Mr. Long if you’re curious.
But yeah that leads onto the whole magnificent thought process in which you end up questioning your own ability to define yourself as an individual, to define your own place in time, and to define your own existence from moment to moment.
I watched a documentary on mathematician who studied problems so vast that they ended up committing suicide.
Cheery stuff, I fucking well know.
But then comes the problem where in I feel under peer pressure from Nietzche.
He considers people who do not embrace philosophy to not be fully human really.
Then again he does consider women to be baby machines.
I flipping well love that bastard.
Anyway. I can never remember where I’m going with this.
xxx
I’m sure I could try posting less nudity, but a SFW blog just sounds so mundane.
ALL THOUGHTS ARE PREY TO SOME BEAST
Some day, I swear, I will remember how to spell Nietzsche without looking it up.
xxx
Confusion in her eyes that says it all, She’s lost control November 7, 2009
I remember in my old boarding school there was this girl, she even slept in the bed next to mine for the start of second year. And then suddenly she just left and moved to another school, leaving all her stuff behind, even her bed sheets.
It’s not like we mourned her departure or anything, she wasn’t the nicest of people.
It like, it was as if at the time she had just disappeared, just been like wiped off the face of the planet. None of us kept any connection with her.
Then one of the girls called her and the only report that I got form the conversation was that she said that she’s lost a lot a weight from “riding”.
It’s wierd how these things work.
Then two years later there were paper posters put up all over town with a black and white picture of her. Missing.
She turned up two days later at her friend’s house, where she had been all of the time apparently.
I haven’t heard another word of her existence since.
Was just thinking about the whole fiasco the other day.
History, I guess.
strange how some things just lie dormant in your memory for years
The blood-alone thing has been screwing with me majorly, so now it seems that I won’t be “clean” for maybe another year?
It sucks I guess, but whatever is, is.
still nowhere feels like home
feelin funny bitches
love yis
xxx
I think it’s alright to feel inhuman now October 23, 2009
Marty McFly Style
My poetry is shit and yet I’m finding the need to write it more and more.
Have that feeling like everything is a dream etc
I love the transience of life.
I love feeling that passionate disconnection from responsiblity, that indulgence in ephoria. Having the impeeding need to change my own reality.
This isn’t poetry by the way.
You are gay.
like fuck that
ADVENTURE AND SHIT
You know that?
No one adventures anymore.
In school it’s like I have the same lunch everyday. It’s like what the fuck. What am I doing. So then I like write an essay on the progression of mathematics in connection with the apathy of Generation X. And then I feel better because it’s like I AM A CREATOR.
I WILL ALLOW THIS PICTURE TO SUMMARIZZZZE MYSELF AS A BEING
YOou know what feeling always get me? The sence of impending doom. That’s not the right phrase but it’s the first one that comes to mind.
You know that feeling, your gut twisting up causing an outward pressure on your chest. Sweat, and short breaths. You become conscious of your breeding.
It like happens when you’re somewhere and you’re with someone or whatever, and all you can think is that in two years time we will have fallen out of touch. We won’t recognise each other anymore and this moment here will just be a faint memory. I missing you in the future tense. And then I will forget about you.
And you’ll die or I’ll die, and then there will be no more opportunity to have conversation. Anything that could’ve been said has been said, but a lot of things that want to be said never will be, and never can be.
I think about this a lot. Existential crisis often.
But then it’s just like you have to enjoy the moment in what it is. You have to appreciate the actions as they happen, live in what’s being said and being done without casting a thought on what will be.
and say goodnight
Sorry.
in 5/6 months time I will have ONLY blood in my veins for the first time in about a year.
it’s getting to me.
sorry
love
xxx
Dumbstruck with the sweetness of being October 11, 2009
I don’t want to depress you.
I really don’t.
So let me keep quite.
I finished reading The Fountainhead at long last. Nothing like a good novel to make a surrealistic sense of being swell up inside yourself. And now I have to write a book report on it for English class. I’ve done out a rough draft, and it begins by talking about Ayn Rand’s role in the evolution of female novelists. I make references to the echos of Rand’s writing that can be seen in the modern work of Elfriede Jelinek and Carol Ann Duffy. God I hope my English teacher gets these references.
Yes, she is that thick.
heads cocked
uhhhh h hhh hhh “>hh “>hh “>hh “>hh “>hhh hh hh h hhhh hh h hhh
had a ____ day
um mmmsmmmm mms msmms mmmsmms
had a ____ trip
i miss everyone so much
been back in the mood for writing recently. I won’t post any of my bad poetry here, I wouldn’t put you through that.
li hui
someone I know ended up in hospital last night from swallowing all the pills in his house.
my heart goes out to him.
saviour everything
‘night
xxx
and they burned her with a cigarette lighter. when the cops came they had to untie her September 26, 2009
Seeeeeeeexxxxxx.
I’ve been dying to talk about a point that’s been on my mind a lot lately, but of course it’s impossible to talk about sex in a serious way. Or at least it’s impossible to find to find someone else who will talk about it.
But what’s been trudging around my mind lately is sex and young women. There’s this idea, this thought of the majority, that virginity is associated with purity. That virginity is this beautiful sacred thing. And I blame this falsely placed idea for a lot of the problems concerning teenage pregnancy and the spread of STDs these days.
bye bye bye we know we've gone
Obviously this isn’t the only reason, but it’s a damn big factor. The law in Ireland is so influenced by the Catholic Church, it really annoys me. Young people cannot talk about sex in the open, not in their schools, not with their parents, and often a desire to talk about it seriously is taken the wrong way amongst peers.
SEX IS WORSHIPPED. IT IS SEEN AS THIS SACRED BANNED ACT.
And this is why sjhdgfjkagfiqagvabvdvgdwqjvdjv it’s so hard to articulate my thoughts sometimes.
At the department of forgotten songs
There is a crying girl
Sexual health and safety should be talked about. People (young people) are having sex all the time, and KNOWLEDGE and CONDOMS should be readily available everywheres. Okay, and screw the pill screw the coil screw morning after pills, it’s important that young people know that condoms are THE ONLY WAY to stop the spread of STDs, other than abstinence of course…
ABSTINENCE. THE KIDS ARE GONNA FUCK ANYWAY, STOP TELLING THEM TO STOP HAVING SEX, AND JUST GIVE THEM CONDOMS IF YOU REALLY CARE ABOUT THEIR HEALTH.
But many (older) people are concerned that promoting the use of condoms is going to encourage kids to have sex. PRO TIP it’s not. It’s going to keep them safe.
Okay you can talk to me/email me directly if you want to talk about this, because I really feel like I’m lecturing now, and boy do I hate to think that I’m lecturing people.
(that's not an order)
OkAy ThAt Is AlL tHaNk YoU fOr YoUr EaRs FuCk SaFe FoR cRyInG oUt LoUd
uhhhh so have fun but don’t get herpes or a baby kthxbye
i cannot dance to this
I’m sorry for ranting, just felt like I really had to get that one out of me.
Love you all, so sorry I can’t marry everyone
xxx
Tell me what you know about dreams, dreams? Tell me what you know about night terrors, nothin. September 20, 2009
i need jazz music
Regardless of the stupidly large amount of music I listen to, I’ve never really gotten into jazz.
Now I have the desire to listen to jazz and pretend i’m surrounded by smoke and wearing a beret and have the most fantastically pointy goatee ever.
If any one out there has jazzy recommendations for me, I will send you love in return.
vowels are all a matter of perspective
Looking at my hand.
RIGHT HAND: a small red mark
LEFT HAND: a faint red square on my index finger
I have a lot of scars on my body. No major ones butlots of little ones. Is it trange that I like littl scars? It’s the same as thway Ilke iPods and phines that are covered in scrathes. It shows a life lived. We have this whole idea of beauty, that it’s accosiated with perfection. But I still admire the beauty of skin that showwhere you’ve been. What yu’ve ben through. I have some rather nasty scars on my back where I GOT STERoid ijections. i used to be really ashamed o em and tbh to ths day I don’t really like pepele seeing them, but I occept more that the are par of me They’ll be on my body ntil the day die. The y are a part of me. Is that strange to thik?
Tell me what you know about dreamin, dreamin
You don’t really know about nothin, nothin
Tell me what you know about them night terrors every night
5 am cold sweats wakin up to the skies
ooooooh get lost with me baby
It this the reason why I personally wear so little clothes? Short skirts?
I like exibiting your imperfections. It’sthe only physical partof you that differentiates you from anyone else on the planet. IIn the universe.
My wireless keyboard was running out of batteries. That’s what happened to the centre paragraph. Deeeeal with it.
Helping the kids out of their coats
But wait the babies haven’t been born
Unpacking the bags and setting up
And planting lilacs and buttercups
I love the colour BLUE
Oh God Stop Me From Blogging
MAERD “>MAERD MAERD MAERD MAERD MAERD “>MAERD MAERD MAERD MAERD “>MAERD MAERD MAERD MAERD “>MAERD MAERD
xxx
Nothing says “I miss you” quite like war poetry you carved in your door with a Stanley knife September 12, 2009
New school, no uniform.
I’ve decided that my own uniform will look something like this
Maybe i should show more skin though
I made a PHAT pun the other day.
In the new school, the principle does emphasise: no short skirts
I was in a rush the morning of the initiation day, so I threw on the first dress I could find, which was my wee polka dot vintage tea dress, with a hem line that doesn’t even reach half way down my thighs.
When the mum asked me why I did it, I replied:
“Well, I want to set HIGH expectations.”
TOO LONG DIDN’T READ: I DON’T MAKE SUCESSFUL PUNS VERY OFTEN. HUMOR ME.
I think it’s quite brilliant how many people come across this blog by using search terms along the lines of: “middle aged naked men”. The most recent one was a search for the term “naked cadaver”.
I would like to take this moment to welcome all the necrophiliacs to the blog.
BUT ON TO MORE IMPORTANT NEWS,
Who will come cycling with me?
Starwatching?
General adventuring at three in the morning?
i'm the one in the middle
So come out of your cave walking on your hands
And see the world hanging upside down
Anyway, time to appeal to my major demographic!
Bye bye bella
REPRESENT
xxx
Pull my fist from my mouth September 11, 2009
You know how sometimes it’s like:
I just want to be inspired.
I’m sick of sifting through the universe, I just beg that you hand me something that can inspire me
I feel like a bad person whenever I am inspired by evil. Or tragedies. When I use tragedies for inspiration, I feel like I’m somehow taking advantage of other people’s misfortunes.
I’m sorry that this is semi copy-pasted, but I don’t feel I could but the story any better in my own words.
It’s the story of David Reimer
David Reimer was born as one of a set of male twins, but when still a baby, his penis was destroyed due to a botched circumcision. The child was subsequently sexually reassigned as female. This decision was made by John Money, a psychologist and sexologist well-known for his research into sexual identity and biology of gender. However, even though David Reimer was raised as a girl and never knew his early history, he behaved in a masculine way appropriate to a boy while he was a young child. Later attempts to socialize him as a girl failed.
When he finally reached the age to make his own medical decisions, he was so distressed by Money’s demand for further surgery to complete his “female” genitals, that his parents decided to reveal his medical history to him. He immediately re-transitioned to a male gender role and later underwent genital reassignment surgery again, in order to complete his male gender identity with male genitalia. He underwent four rounds of reconstructive surgery to facilitate his reappropriation of the male sex. Towards the end of his life he lost his job, was separated from his wife, failed a financial investment, and mourned the death of his twin brother Brian, who died in a drug overdose.
He committed suicide on May 5, 2004.
When it's all over I'll let you know
Don’t be afraid, it’s only love
Don’t be afraid, you’re already dead
oh wow this post is mobid
okay just pretend i never said any of this
shhhhhhhhhh
keep it a secret
love you
xxx
ZOMBIE BABIES September 8, 2009
x
ALL THE COOL KIDS USE MS PAINT HARDCORE YES
x
ugh vampires
x
a full moon brings out the lycanthropes! When the hordes of babies attack, don’t say you weren’t warned
I’m goin’ out to stay up all night.
Let’s talk about what feels strange on the inside.
Let’s make year look good tonight.
I know it hasn’t been the best year, so let’s be numb.
Do you feel strange on the inside?
And this is why I shouldn’t do late night blogs
xxx
