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So what can I say today? Something-and-nothing. What else is there to say? Yawn. I’m in the mood for a bonfire.
Life is sh*t. No, it’s more than that, it’s horsesh*t. No, that’s not s**trong enough, it’s dogsh*t - s**tuck to the soles of your shoes. Embedded. Something-and-nothing.
Life Disunited 0 Death Pathetic 0
-Attendance: too many
When I think of this life I picture a matchs**tick man clinging on by his fingertips: too weak to pull himself up higher and go beyond; too lacking in courage to finally let go. Not quite falling off the edge of the world. Not quite drowning in mid-air. Jus**t caught in the middle of over there and over here. A nearly-man tangled in a swaying cage of self-created nausea.
To Be is to be cornered.
There are too many people. Was**trels. Billions of brains ticking over, thinking and desiring god knows what. I can’t help but feel as insignificant as a grain of sand on a grimy beach. I can accept this to a point. I can look it dead in the eye and raise a wis**tful eyebrow. Yet with every passing moment this world becomes more and more cluttered, and as it does so it becomes empty: s**training under the weight of its own vapid mishmash. 95 per cent of everything is about as useful and as needed as a saggy bag of broken bricks.
There are too many people. Too many products. Too many beliefs unworthy of belief. Too much of this and too much of that. Too much tinsel and contrived dazzle. Too many curled-fingers beckoning and demanding that I take part, that I join in, that I buy into their ‘way’. What happens if I refuse?
I refuse.
Ques**tion: What does the real me want?
Answer: It wants to unknow what it has been taught. It wants to free itself from ‘what it should be doing’. The ins**tinct of its learning wants to wipe the slate clean. Its ambition is ‘to see what is for what it is not.’ It wants to fill its soul with its own light. It wants to will a self, then lead itself.
Stop, you vainglorious damp-nappy. What did the vicar say to the hookers as they ran their tongues up and down his length?
‘Thank you God.’
Exactly. There are too many gods, and too many devils worshipping them. One day I will fake my own death and become as ungraspable as a will-o‘-the-wisp. Something to look forward to. But for now I have the result. If you don’t want to know the score then look away now…
Life Disunited 0 Death Pathetic 0
-Attendance: too many
Middle-finger to all and sundry.
Life is sh*t. No, it’s more than that, it’s horsesh*t. No, that’s not s**trong enough, it’s dogsh*t - s**tuck to the soles of your shoes. Embedded. Something-and-nothing.
Life Disunited 0 Death Pathetic 0
-Attendance: too many
When I think of this life I picture a matchs**tick man clinging on by his fingertips: too weak to pull himself up higher and go beyond; too lacking in courage to finally let go. Not quite falling off the edge of the world. Not quite drowning in mid-air. Jus**t caught in the middle of over there and over here. A nearly-man tangled in a swaying cage of self-created nausea.
To Be is to be cornered.
There are too many people. Was**trels. Billions of brains ticking over, thinking and desiring god knows what. I can’t help but feel as insignificant as a grain of sand on a grimy beach. I can accept this to a point. I can look it dead in the eye and raise a wis**tful eyebrow. Yet with every passing moment this world becomes more and more cluttered, and as it does so it becomes empty: s**training under the weight of its own vapid mishmash. 95 per cent of everything is about as useful and as needed as a saggy bag of broken bricks.
There are too many people. Too many products. Too many beliefs unworthy of belief. Too much of this and too much of that. Too much tinsel and contrived dazzle. Too many curled-fingers beckoning and demanding that I take part, that I join in, that I buy into their ‘way’. What happens if I refuse?
I refuse.
Ques**tion: What does the real me want?
Answer: It wants to unknow what it has been taught. It wants to free itself from ‘what it should be doing’. The ins**tinct of its learning wants to wipe the slate clean. Its ambition is ‘to see what is for what it is not.’ It wants to fill its soul with its own light. It wants to will a self, then lead itself.
Stop, you vainglorious damp-nappy. What did the vicar say to the hookers as they ran their tongues up and down his length?
‘Thank you God.’
Exactly. There are too many gods, and too many devils worshipping them. One day I will fake my own death and become as ungraspable as a will-o‘-the-wisp. Something to look forward to. But for now I have the result. If you don’t want to know the score then look away now…
Life Disunited 0 Death Pathetic 0
-Attendance: too many
Middle-finger to all and sundry.
(Yawn) Hehe.
Surreallly, as you say.
Surreallly, as you say.
You tricked us! Evil!
:)
:)
It's official: I am a miserable git.
Actually, this is a bit of text out of a (yawn) novel I'm writing. Just thought I'd post it. Don't know why.
Actually, this is a bit of text out of a (yawn) novel I'm writing. Just thought I'd post it. Don't know why.
Erm it's fine.
I have History on Thursday... damn Uni exams.
I have History on Thursday... damn Uni exams.
Oh.
Apoligies.
I am just slightly pisssed because some mofo stole all my fecking notes for economics (business studies) and I have an important exam tomorrow and I am fecking screwed.
*sigh*
Its a crap subject anyway, waste of bloody time.
Apoligies.
I am just slightly pisssed because some mofo stole all my fecking notes for economics (business studies) and I have an important exam tomorrow and I am fecking screwed.
*sigh*
Its a crap subject anyway, waste of bloody time.
I was saying mine was
Har. Least mine had some effort, cliché or no cliché.
Cliche reply
Nice
Nice
I do agree with your rant in most respects, the world is full of corruption and filth and greed. But we are luckier that some - we could be living in some dump of a country with no money, no food and no point in life, or we could be that hooker that sells herself every night to dirty scum in the steamy dark alleys of some sleazy city. Life could be worse. Humans will be ultimately responsible for the end of this planet. We won't be along much longer, the rotten and corrupted hearts of mankind has seen to that.
So what can I say today? Something-and-nothing. What else is there to say? Yawn. I’m in the mood for a bonfire.
Life is sh*t. No, it’s more than that, it’s horsesh*t. No, that’s not s**trong enough, it’s dogsh*t - s**tuck to the soles of your shoes. Embedded. Something-and-nothing.
Life Disunited 0 Death Pathetic 0
-Attendance: too many
When I think of this life I picture a matchs**tick man clinging on by his fingertips: too weak to pull himself up higher and go beyond; too lacking in courage to finally let go. Not quite falling off the edge of the world. Not quite drowning in mid-air. Jus**t caught in the middle of over there and over here. A nearly-man tangled in a swaying cage of self-created nausea.
To Be is to be cornered.
There are too many people. Was**trels. Billions of brains ticking over, thinking and desiring god knows what. I can’t help but feel as insignificant as a grain of sand on a grimy beach. I can accept this to a point. I can look it dead in the eye and raise a wis**tful eyebrow. Yet with every passing moment this world becomes more and more cluttered, and as it does so it becomes empty: s**training under the weight of its own vapid mishmash. 95 per cent of everything is about as useful and as needed as a saggy bag of broken bricks.
There are too many people. Too many products. Too many beliefs unworthy of belief. Too much of this and too much of that. Too much tinsel and contrived dazzle. Too many curled-fingers beckoning and demanding that I take part, that I join in, that I buy into their ‘way’. What happens if I refuse?
I refuse.
Ques**tion: What does the real me want?
Answer: It wants to unknow what it has been taught. It wants to free itself from ‘what it should be doing’. The ins**tinct of its learning wants to wipe the slate clean. Its ambition is ‘to see what is for what it is not.’ It wants to fill its soul with its own light. It wants to will a self, then lead itself.
Stop, you vainglorious damp-nappy. What did the vicar say to the hookers as they ran their tongues up and down his length?
‘Thank you God.’
Exactly. There are too many gods, and too many devils worshipping them. One day I will fake my own death and become as ungraspable as a will-o‘-the-wisp. Something to look forward to. But for now I have the result. If you don’t want to know the score then look away now…
Life Disunited 0 Death Pathetic 0
-Attendance: too many
Middle-finger to all and sundry.
Life is sh*t. No, it’s more than that, it’s horsesh*t. No, that’s not s**trong enough, it’s dogsh*t - s**tuck to the soles of your shoes. Embedded. Something-and-nothing.
Life Disunited 0 Death Pathetic 0
-Attendance: too many
When I think of this life I picture a matchs**tick man clinging on by his fingertips: too weak to pull himself up higher and go beyond; too lacking in courage to finally let go. Not quite falling off the edge of the world. Not quite drowning in mid-air. Jus**t caught in the middle of over there and over here. A nearly-man tangled in a swaying cage of self-created nausea.
To Be is to be cornered.
There are too many people. Was**trels. Billions of brains ticking over, thinking and desiring god knows what. I can’t help but feel as insignificant as a grain of sand on a grimy beach. I can accept this to a point. I can look it dead in the eye and raise a wis**tful eyebrow. Yet with every passing moment this world becomes more and more cluttered, and as it does so it becomes empty: s**training under the weight of its own vapid mishmash. 95 per cent of everything is about as useful and as needed as a saggy bag of broken bricks.
There are too many people. Too many products. Too many beliefs unworthy of belief. Too much of this and too much of that. Too much tinsel and contrived dazzle. Too many curled-fingers beckoning and demanding that I take part, that I join in, that I buy into their ‘way’. What happens if I refuse?
I refuse.
Ques**tion: What does the real me want?
Answer: It wants to unknow what it has been taught. It wants to free itself from ‘what it should be doing’. The ins**tinct of its learning wants to wipe the slate clean. Its ambition is ‘to see what is for what it is not.’ It wants to fill its soul with its own light. It wants to will a self, then lead itself.
Stop, you vainglorious damp-nappy. What did the vicar say to the hookers as they ran their tongues up and down his length?
‘Thank you God.’
Exactly. There are too many gods, and too many devils worshipping them. One day I will fake my own death and become as ungraspable as a will-o‘-the-wisp. Something to look forward to. But for now I have the result. If you don’t want to know the score then look away now…
Life Disunited 0 Death Pathetic 0
-Attendance: too many
Middle-finger to all and sundry.