hedonist despite.

he's likely to never know the pain of masturbating when the one you love is, has, or soon will be making love to another. it's a horrible feeling. it's something he'll miss out on. predatorial habits evade some, some avoid them on purpose. some lives are like flowers, preserved in a greenhouse growing to perfection, allowed to die of old age. we never know more than what we've experienced. people die for less.

pretty bitter

when i think of love these days, not much good comes to mind. i guess i'm pretty fucked up. though i know this doesn't make me special or rare. it seems to be common these days. expecting things to end. best case scenario, one person will be glad that it's over. now when i talk, i'm lucky if i don't say something horribly insulting or humiliating. i should be happy to just get out a good "hi" with a fake smile. they should be happy to get it. they don't even know what's going on in my head. love is what happens when we can't tolerate existence as it is, lonely and indifferent. love is a reaching outwards. love is a cake with two people holding hands. love is something to be admired. to love someone and be loved without knowing what love is, this is naive, this is lucky. i have forgotten how to love and yet, this assumes i have loved in the past and that it can be learned again. as if love is something that comes and goes. more often going. coming only as a reminder that it will go away. one day we will be without it again.

she explained and justified, but it still seemed so irrational.

she came up to me while i was reading alone. she looked and acted a little crazy, like she was seriously stoned. she asked if she could join me. i said sure, after all, i was there to meet people: i went to a coffee shop, ordered a drink, sat against the wall by myself with my head in a book, to meet people. so this girl was sitting across from me now. i don't remember thinking her ugly or pretty initially, but definitely strung out. this became more apparent as her words and personality exposed themselves to me. she said something, then i said something, then she mentioned she was in a band. what kind of band, i asked. rock, she said, as if there were infinite other kinds of bands she could be involved with. then she mentioned some musicians, one i'd heard of, one i hadn't. she asked me if i'd like to come back to her place and listen to music. i hesitated, but ultimately agreed considering the lack of harm that could come from it and maybe she'd get me high.

so we get to her apartment which is surprisingly nice. spacious or empty, depending on how you look at it. she had a keyboard in the middle of her living room and not much else. it should be noted that on the walk over she explained her name and the names of her band members. her name is artemis, or will be once she has it legally changed from candice. her band members follow suit with names of various greek gods. so she put on some music by some chick who sounded like she was trying too hard to be lou reed. because i noticed this, i mentioned lou reed and she got all excited. it seemed like she had to be on something. so since the keyboard was there and she said she was in a band, i asked her to play something. she didn't hesitate to oblige. she played the massive keyboard sitting like an elephant in the empty room and sang. she could play the keyboard, for what it's worth, but the singing left much to be desired. inbetween songs she got up to blow her nose and did so facing the door to the balcony, away from me. cocaine, i thought. i bet she's on cocaine and faced away in fear her nose would bleed. she sat back down next to me on the couch. i wondered if she was trying to seduce me. if this was all about some nympho- adventure. she asked me if i had a girlfriend. i said no. good, she said. then she showed me her band's website and some books. it's around this time i realized her shirt was transparent, exposing her entire upper torso except the small area concealed by her bra.

we went back into the living room and sat next to each other on the couch. there was a feeling that something was about to happen. a feeling like something had to happen. just then, something did happen. her phone rang. "come on up," she said. it was a friend of hers. he came in carrying a small plastic bag. he set it down on the floor next to a chess board which was apparently already set up. we introduced ourselves like gentlemen. his name was not that of a greek god. his name was matt. matt and artemis almost immediately sat down on the floor and began a game of speed chess as if it was all they ever did together. as if it was understood that this is what would happen. they played a fifteen min. game, which was over in 5 min. because artemis lost. then i said i should probably go. but she wouldn't let me leave without hearing her favorite poems which she performed in front of matt and i. there were three and while they contained nice words and explicit content alluding to intercourse and misconceptions of love, they were typical. i walked to the coffee shop and sat down, hoping to meet someone. no one else approached me that day. no one else came close.

i just want to buy a car and not feel like a sucker.

with my world view this is probably impossible.

15,000
15,500
16,000
no? eh?
16,800?!?
oh. jez.
14,200?
please?

i never liked sex...

i never liked sex as much as being able to have it whenever i wanted.

i was exactly who i wanted to be and then who i wanted to be changed.

in college, you study some, go to parties, try to get laid and whatnot. experiment with drugs, do the college thing. you try to do the things you saw in the movies, on tv, the things people expect you to do. you try not to disappoint. the world is a frightening place when you don't know what is expected of you. all our lives we know exactly what they expect of us. they tell us through their stories, through various media, in the way they represent us and teach us and make subtle suggestions. we are entirely familiar with what they want from us. but what do we want of ourselves?

make love like a texas chainsaw.

taking yourself seriously is what being an adult is all about. it seems so clear now that all our education is in order for us to become comfortable at the idea of sacrificing our lives for something considered productive. happiness is power; having control over your perceived world. control over outcomes. godliness. a smarter person would have reason behind every action, or at least be able to justify it.

my answer to everything uncomfortable: run away.

92 colors was tempting, but i settled for 48.

they're not much for motivating, more for demotivating. sometimes i think this world cultivates a certain amount of insanity with its constant buzzing and flashing. sometimes i wish everything would stop for a second or two. sometimes i wish i could stop the things i do that make things worse. if i do leave here, i wont ever return. people don't pay attention to most colors anyways, it's just something they're used to.

casual day.

sometimes i like to get dressed up to go to work, just to pretend i have a job that requires me to be dressed any sort of way. every decision i have made in my life was based on blind curiosity. aimless and thoughtless discoveries only leave you an observer of an indifferent world that you have little to no effect on.

looking for something to eat in the medicine cabinet.

thinking back on the best of the past few years, you cringe a little. giving a small awkward chuckle, for yourself, since no one's around. the only people who talk to you anymore are strangers and you never say the right thing back. though you never realize it until they're gone. with just the right amount of idiocy to function on the same level as everyone else. realizing you don't fit your own standard of normal, not knowing if anyone else does. acknowledging an amount of it has to be the everpresence of self-dillusion. think about the people who think they're good enough, or better, more worthy than everyone else they've ever met. rich kids think the world owes them. we're all living in a world that doesn't quite fit. like a really bad puzzle with all the pieces dented and torn. it's not even supposed to make a picture. the contest is only to see how much of it you can make fit right, or at least think you made fit right.