Thursday, December 02, 1999
Well,
it's officially here... The most disgusting time of year...
Bleh. No, I didn't always have this adittude about the Holiday Season.
In fact, I used to look forward to it very much... No, not for the
presents either. It used to be about love, until everything got fucked
up, anyways. I remember -everyone- (Including very very distant cousins,
and people I didn't even know.) would flock to my Grandma's on Christmas
Eve. It was a blast, really. I even remember one time when
they had a Santa Claus come in for all us kids... Heh, I remember when
I found out about the whole "Santa" bullshit thing, I was really heartbroken...
I remember when I was real little, I was sleeping in the living room, trying
to catch "Santa" red handed, and I remember someone stepping on my
head, and when I woke up, I thought it was Santa saying, "Shhh, go back
to sleep." It was my "father" though, still, I remember how excited
I was because I had a personal Santa experience, heh, it was kinda a shame
when the illusion was shattered... 'Course, it always is, like the
illusion of the Holidays being based on love and goodwill...
About three or so years ago, Christmas time was the happiest I had ever
been, even though my life was (and still is) pretty fucked up. This
was back when I had a girlfriend, not just a girlfriend really...
She was my first (and probably last) love. Nothing mattered in the
world as long as I had her... I remember we would just spend hours
and hours together outside in the frigid cold with only each other to keep
warm. Awww, how romantic eh? Sure was... Too bad it was
just another illusion. I found out later after she had dumped me
that she never loved me, I was just an anchor for support in her world
gone mad. Out of everything that has happened to me, that whole ordeal
was probably what fucked me up the most. 'Course, watching your girlfriend
try to commit suicide with a big butcher knife can do that to a 15 year
old kid... To this day, I cannot talk to anyone of the female persuasion
without going all mental. I've already scared off my more than fair
share of girls because of my skittishness. Oh well... I don't
think Fate has it in the cards for me...*shrug*
Anyways, don't let my foul mood destroy your "Christmas Spirit".
If your Holidays are going good, then holy shit! I envy you! }=-]
Happy Holiday's everyone, but I have an appointment, ciao! *Hops
in a truck to go about town caroling Type O Negative's "Red Water - Christmas
Mourning"*
Wednesday, December 08, 1999
Well, an old friend of mine showed up the other night. A long time ago, he was my best friend, but he had a baby with his girlfriend and they had a life to get on with, so he moved and left me far behind... Which is understandable, of course. I hadn't a problem with it (though I kept telling him that if he kept sleeping around he'd eventually get someone pregnant, the blasted dimwit.). And he would come and visit occassionally... Only, he'd always need a favor. Usually money. He'd like me to do tarot readings for him too. Nothing new, though. He'd always been this way. But I've begun to realize that perhaps he doesn't really view me as a friend, but someone to mooch advice, favors, and money off of. In fact, I do believe that is all I am good for to any of the people who are supposedly my "friends". I am constantly being taken advantage of, though I never think of it that way. It's no problem to me if someone wants to borrow money from me, or needs a favor done. Complete strangers even. I don't know, it's as if I feel compelled to do it. But apparently, from what I'm being told, I'm just being walked all over upon... Well, I am not known for taking bullshit, and maybe everyone's right? Maybe everyone out there is just a selfish fuck looking for someone to take advantage of, I don't know. Maybe I should stop being so fucking nice to people? Afterall, I look the part, being a freakish looking gothic, and I seem to act the part by being so distant from people... Yet I still try to be nice to them, even when they don't care who the fuck I am. Maybe everyone is right... Maybe this is just the last bit of naivity that I have to lose... Or maybe it's the last of my innocence? No... I'm still a virgin, I can have that to hold on to when everything else is gone. }=-] Anyways, I'm in a really bad mood (no shit, sherlock.)... But I wrote a Y2K poem last night, yadda yadda, here it is:
-3L3KTr!K s(-)33p-
I have a Y2K bug
Can you fix me
With your MILLENIUM suture
Paste me together
With your buzzwords
And shelter my molten soul
In your BOMBSHELTER
My gears are rusted
Twist my rivets
And push my buttons
Please help me
I have a virus
My harddrive CRASHED
Make it go away
With your electric kisses
1999 ways to DIE
I've done them all
When the ball drops
That will make 2000
Go ahead... Make my millenium. Uh, yeah... Laters.
Tuesday, December 14, 1999
Well shit. Oh how I hate this fucking season.
I've been having nightmares lately... Nightmares of love and happiness.
How is this a nightmare? Well let me explain to you.... It's
all fake. I'd rather dream of being eaten by 10,000 rabid, three-toothed,
one-eyed, six legged mutant leprechauns than have "sweet" dreams of love
and content. Because when I wake, I know that it wasn't real, that
I wasn't being eaten by leprechauns, and then think about how funny that
is... But on the same coin, I wake and see that in fact, my father
really still is an asshole, and that my ex really didn't love me, and that
I don't have a loving person to share my life with... Nope. I wake
up and I'm alone... Again.
Well, I guess I missed my "friend"'s b-day... The one that I borrowed
that money to. Haven't seen 'im since. No big surprise there...
My "father" had me print out a bunch of his "poetry" for him so he could
send it in to some blah dee blah contest. He thinks he's becoming
a famous poet now... Feh. Here, I'll give you a sample of his
poetry... This poem I actually thought was good (albeit meaningless),
until he told me what all the metaphors meant...
As I Recall
Someone told me not to sleep with flowers
Yet ever since I don't
I sleep alone without them
And yes there were lots of flowers
But I never had enough time
Before beloved flower push off from my life
Like small boats from the shore
Yes, someone told me not to sleep with flowers
As the crickets lay hush among the stepping stones
I make my bed with lilac sheets as smooth as silk
I lay in the faint fragrance of the flowers
Smell soft and pale
Fading until only their names whisper
Pink lilac mauve
Yes, someone told me not to sleep with flowers
So I sleep alone
Yeah yeah, not bad right? Well, lemme tell you what the sick
old fuck told me; Just replace all the metaphoric "flowers" with "prostitute",
and you will get the true meaning of the poem. Yes, that's right
ladies 'n' gents, my 48 yr old "father" wrote a poem about fucking prostitutes...
Bear in mind, friends, that this same fellow is the father of 3 other children,
besides me, all of whom are under the age of 17, and shouldn't be hearing
about 48 yr old men sleeping with prostitutes in the first place, let alone
hear their own father write "poetry" about it. He is sick, sick sick
SICK! He has recently been befriending his own parents, who has hasn't
spoken to beforehand for 30+ years... Why? Because he want's
to make amends? Ha! Because he is waiting for his own father
to die, hoping to gain an inheritance! You know how I know?
He told me. Twisted, huh? And all this coming from the guy
who told me, "Yep, I pretty much got a set place up in heaven. I
really think I'm an angel sent to earth for some reason." Oh, ye
Gods, why did I have to spring from his cursed loins?
Blah, 'nough 'o' him.... I've been trying to get my Christmas shopping
done, it's horrible... I went to the mall, it is the most frightening
thing... All the shoppers with painted grins, the Santas, the crying
children, the ridiculous amounts of money being spent... And here
I am drifting through the crowd, half-asleep, the circles under my eyes
so dark that they looked to be painted, my head lolling to either side
as I stared blankly at all the faces... Everyone who laid eyes on
me first gasped in disbelief, then did a double-take, then ran away in
terror from this... This, ungodly, unfriendly, and ultimately unchristmas-like
shambling zombie-esque.... Thing! Anyways, in any event, I only got
done shopping for my sister.
Well, I 'spose that's enough for this gripe session... Oh,
my guestbook is working again... I think... So sign it or something.
I'm out kids.
Sunday, December 19, 1999
You
know... If I could have it my way... I would ban all those
fucking horse-drawn carriages. To me, they are a symbol of how much
of a loser I am. Well... Lemme 'splain; You see...
For forever and an eternity, I always wanted to take that "special someone"
on a carriage ride through town.... Awww, yeah yeah yeah! Don't think
I can't hear you lauging! So what?! I'm corny that way, awriiiight?!
Anyways, never did that, never will, 'nuff said....
So....
What else is new? Eh, nothing. I finished xmas shopping...
I ran face-first into a donation sign (VERY bad for my tough-guy persona)...
I rode on a bus... Yep. That's about it. Oh, that little
bitch Dave came over last friday. He showed me this flyer about how
some hollywood bigshots needed some extras... They were going to
throw a mock rave, and wanted a bunch of wild-looking kids to show up to
be filmed. Jokingly, (And it was jokingly because I knew that a thou
of peeps would show, and I'm not big for crowds) I told him that they would
film me if I went with all my "gear" on. (My "gear" consists of two
mesh-metal arm plates, and two shin guard that I safety pin on to my clothes,
two big metal knee-pads, a dog collar with chains that run down to a diamond-shaped
piece of that mesh stuff, then down to my beltloops, and chains that run
down from the back belt-loops of my pants, and the front belt-loops to
just above my knee where I have chains encircling my legs. When you
put it all together, I look like some macabre neo-industrial warrior.)
But he got all into asshole mode with me, "Duh! Dey wouldn't lechoo
in! Dey would jus make yoo go home! Duh huh huh huh!
Dumbass!". Why do I have to have "friends" like this?
You
know what else? I am SOOOO fucking tired of being a "lighter-bitch"!
What's a lighter-bitch? Well, it's the loser-ass kid who always carries
around a lighter for no apparent reason, and you have him light your cigs
and you can completely ingnore him. Anytime I go to clubs, concerts,
hang-out with "friends", they just want me to light their fucking cigs
an won't talk with me! "Hey, light me up will ya?" "Sure...
Here..." *puff puff, blows smoke in face* "Thanks (if I'm lucky)"
*cough cough* "Yeah sure, hey, did you hear ab..." "Shut up
lighter-bitch". Gaaaa!
Not
that I go anywhere that I can be a lighter-bitch at anymore, seeings how
the only club I frequented fucking went all caddywompus and defunct...
Oh sure, I could go to Area 51 on a Thursday night, but, in all reality...
I'm too afraid to. There will most certainly be people there that
I don't want to run into, (well DUH, two of them are the DJs) I mean...
I mean, I've been blown-off by them all already... I don't know,
I fucked that whole situation up. I just want to let it die, I don't
think I can fix it. So showing up at that club would prolly just
fuck it up more... I don't go to raves anymore either, though I think
that techno is boss righteous, it's the crowd I don't dig.... Well, to
be more accurate, it's the crowd that doesn't dig me. So, I ain't
gonna tarry anywhere where I'm not wanted, yuh know. And I
guess I could always check out the place that the Confetti (the club I
formerly attended) crowd has flocked to... That is if the new building
didn't suck dirty nuts... Fuck. Yeah, I'm in a bad mood...
I
was thinking that all 0.03 readers of my webpage might want a little bit
more background on myself, so I'm writing up a FAQ... Which is really quite
silly, when you think about it. FAQ meaning Frequently Asked Questions...
And no one ever frequently asks me anything... Well except for a FUCKING
LIGHT!!! Gaaah! Anyways, I'm going to write it up now, and
whatever...
Here's my FAQ
Tuesday, December 28, 1999
Christmas has come and gone... Last year, my New Year's resolution was
to never spend another holiday alone. Heh, looks like I didn't make
good on that, eh? I'm not making any resolutions for myself this
year, though... I'm just going to continue to pray to whatever gods
may be out there, to make a 747 magically appear above my head and fall
on me.
I'm not going to say everything has been bad... The most unexpected
thing occured today. I got a Christmas card in the mail! Yes,
you heard right! Someone out there actually sent -ME-, the sorriest
loner in the universe, a card! It's from a dear friend of mine from
Canada, whom I haven't spoken to for a good while.... *sighs* I didn't
even send her anything... I don't deserve it.... *kicks himself in
the groin* I'm gonna hafta get a hold 'o' 'er somehows....
Oh, guess what I got for my Christmas present?!!?!!? The FLUUUUUUUU!!!
*jumps up and down cheering!* I started getting sick last Thursday,
and I'm proud to say that it's late Tuesdat night, and I'm still quite
ill. }=-]
Well, New Years is coming.... I am pretty sure about what I'm going
to be doing.... I think I'll meander over to the neighbor's house,
and steal all they're good alcohol while they're too drunk to notice.
*nods* Then I'll wander down to the park at like, 4am, so drunk that
I'll be off my rocker, lamenting at my lonliness until I cry myself to
sleep on a park bench... Only to have a rude awakening shortly later
as a police officer finds me and unleashes his thwacker stick on me with
mad abandon... After he beats me back into unconsciousness, I'll
wake up two days later, naked, cold, and ultimately violated. I guess
I'll prolly go back home after that... Well, that's all if the world
doesn't spontaneously vaporize at the toll of the bell anyways.... *shrugs*
Oh, I was gunna update sooner, but I've been effectively immoble due to
my illness. Anyways, I'm going to hop in the shower... And
weep... *waves cheerfully*
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
All works, including artwork and
writing are copyright Jed J. Casper (Draconis) and may not be used unless
expressed permission is given to do so. (c) 1999