::
2007 28 November :: 9.50am
:: Music: Eve 6 - Open Road Song
with every turn comes a new frame of mind/if I could frame my mind/where would it hang?
I'm starting to think I treat my life like a newly minted car. Here's why:
Often, I'd rather leave it in the garage instead of taking it out for a spin.
I always to protect what I have instead of enjoying it.
I become obsessed with the slightest blemish and spend too much effort trying to buff it out instead of looking at the big picture.
While I don't mind showing people around, I'm careful about who I let in.
I'd not that I can't go on the offensive if I have no other choice, but usually I'd rather stay off to the side to avoid the risk.
I'm so concerned with running things at the most optimal level, never realizing that, in time, things will fall apart no matter I do.
Whenever I strip everything away and realize what I'm behind the wheel of, I see what a gift I have. But I have to realize that you don't buy a Beamer to sit in the slow lane. I may come out the other side with a few more blemishes, but it's a small price to pay to avoid being stuck in first gear for the rest of my life.
They are surprisingly good singers and with a little effort they could have made this a good video. Creepy and fucked up, but still good. I really liked the "Jesus is a Cunt" t-shirt.
So I'm watching Dirty Sexy Money right now. There was a reference to “The Italian Banker,” so I decided to look this up and to see what it entailed. In my not so successful searches I ended up on Wikipedia.
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2007 9 October :: 12.34pm
:: Mood: nostalgic
:: Music: Radiohead - Let Down
So they are doing construction on campus, which is a major pain in the arse because it's right along the path I walk every day. Anyway, I was on my way to the Science Bldg. and I passed a construction worker sitting in the shade, relaxing and enjoying his lunch. I was immediately brought back to the summer of '01 working at Arrow Door, sitting outside with Chris, Fras, and Co. I remember jumping in line with everyone at the food cart outside, and the day Stashia and Christa brought us lunch. I hated that job, but sitting outside in the shade, cooling off from the stagnating heat in and outside the building, all the while savoring every last moment of freedom before returning to the floor, that's a fond memory.
No, that’s not enough. More, more. It’s important that you help me reinforce the stereotype of the sex-obsessed gay man who fucks compulsively and indiscriminately, thereby living an empty and hollow existence in which he is unable to love.
Any orifice will do. Oh, you have genital warts? That’s okay, I do too. And AIDS and every other STD imaginable, which are, of course, punishment for my immoral lifestyle.
You, over there. Yeah, you. You’ll do.
Are you straight? Yes? Shit, that’s great. The fact that you’re having sex with me permits me to brand you as a homosexual, a ‘closet case’ as it were. And everybody knows that the scientifically observed fact of sexuality being fluid and permitting a plethora of activity outside the bounds of standard heterosexuality is bullshit, so come out of the closet already, you fucking faggot.
Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate your cock. As you ram it down my throat, it’s apparent to me that it’s not the act itself that turns me on, so much as the high I get from symbolically possessing aspects of a masculinity that I have denied in myself. For this we can surely blame my father, who never taught me to play baseball.
So now that you’re having sex with me and I’ve brought you down to my level, I can feel, if only for a moment, like being gay isn’t all that bad. As if it isn’t a behavior that I know deep in my soul to be unnatural and against the will of God.
That’s it, come in my mouth. Mmmm.
Okay, next! How about you? Oh, you’re gay? Whatever.
Hey, maybe we can devise some semblance of a mutual relationship, and pretend that we are in love? Perhaps this will provide a brief respite for the crushing knowledge that we are in fact uber-narcissistic man-children, forever slaves to a thumb-sucking mommy complex, and destined to die in loneliness and despair because we can never love anyone as much as we love ourselves?
Anyway, fuck me in the ass.
What—you’re putting on a condom? Jesus, you gotta be kidding me. Do you really think I respect my body and myself enough to want to protect myself from an STD that--heavens forefend--I don’t already possess?
Please. I would consider it an honor to receive your diseased meat and/or the toxic seed contained within. It would only hasten my departure from a world in which I attempt to normalize behaviors that are quite obviously unnatural, exhibiting a denial bordering on psychosis in which I do not see that men were given a penis and women a vagina for a reason, and that homosexual behavior violates the very fabric of human existence and the universe.
Harder, please. Also, keep calling me your cock-hungry fuck puppet. Your continued thrusting and hurling of insults only turns me on more. Oh, it may seem that we’re only role-playing, and the slaps you apply so generously to my face and ass are a fetishistic device used to enhance the sexual relations we are currently enjoying.
But we both know that your hatred is real, and what may seem like an innocent game is actually a serious expression of the hatred you feel for yourself, and my acceptance of this hatred hinges upon my sublimated desire to be punished for the sinful lifestyle that I have chosen, yes chosen, for myself.
Yeah, pump your load into my ass.
Isn’t it depressing to think of all that is wasted in the act we have just completed? Instead of taking part in the beautiful creation of life, we have instead resigned ourselves to a state of suspended adolescence in which we espouse the futile and vile notion that the gay lifestyle is somehow “normal” and “acceptable.”
Your precious seed of life has become little more than excrement, to be eventually shat out of my bowels and cast into the sewer, the sewer where our kind most assuredly belongs.
Guys! Calm down, there’s enough back door access for everyone.
Jason would be proud of my coupon skills today. I spent $95.98 and my total savings was $49.
I ended up having to drive to Green Bay yesterday. My mom didn’t want to drive back, so I had to do a one way rental car and pick her up. She didn’t like the route that I was coming back, so I had to turn around and go her way. Needless to say, we got lost. And then she blames it on me. Grr.
Haven’t made an entry in a while so this might be a bit scattered.
Had my birthday thingie at grandparent’s place on Wednesday. Had some really good food and got some presents. Got a new monitor, card reader, MB club membership, and a Better Than Ezra CD.
Thoughts on the MTV music awards: The sound quality was shit, it kept cutting out. Britney has become an awful performer. She was in a sequined bikini and her gut was hanging out. She was dancing like she was drunk, the backup dancers were better. Sara Silverman is an awful comedian. There’s going to be a new Indiana Jones movie?
Went to Hay Days with the family. Lots of interesting people. Some neat snowmobiles too.
Had dad’s 50th birthday at Action City. Had a lot of fun with the whole family out on the go cart track. I’m surprised at how low the turnout was. More people showed up from my mom’s side of the family than my dad’s.
Linda is still in the hospital. They had to put her in a halo last week; I’ll be going down to visit next weekend.
