Declaration of Independence of the Imagination and Man's Right to Madness

neoacidcreep @ 2009-08-27T20:40:00

2009-08-28T00:41:08Z

Hunched over, doing the most masculine thing I am capable of (putting my bicycle chain back on). I fix the chain and right myself vertically, I lock eyes with a woman in a Mercedes who gives me a look of utter disgust. My eye float back to my hands that are covered in black grease, I hate dirty hands. I look into the Mercedes-Chick eyes while making a grand show of spitting into my hands. I start to rub the dirt away as I realign my gaze toward the direction I am heading and there she is.

A cute chick sitting in her car smiling at the grandiose display of spitting into my hands. I look at her, she lingers for a second and and then looks away. "Always when I am doing something weird, without fail."

I mount my bike and start on my way. The grid like roads in my area are segmented every quarter mile or so by a red light, sure enough as I approach the red light so is she. We continue you this for another 5 red lights, and then, just like it started it was over. She turned off, I kept going straight. For a brief period we were engaged in the greatest relationship I have ever been in.

neoacidcreep @ 2009-08-18T19:11:00

2009-08-18T23:12:08Z

"...that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed..." www.ushistory.org/Declaration/document/index.htm

Why suddenly am I forced by government to obtain health care. Not preventative healthcare, no no. But basically emergency healthcare. This is bullshit.

This is another step closer to complete socialism in America. Our first meandering steps were made by FDR in the form of welfare and social projects. Now we are going to be forced to equal out the health care system. This is not fair to those who have earned the better forms of health care they have available.

What's next? Should we all eat the same foods, wear the same clothes? Make the same money? This is the slow eradication of capitalism and eventually democracy in general. And morons are going crazy over it, like Obama is going to solve the problems of the universe, nonsense.

neoacidcreep @ 2009-08-16T15:57:00

2009-08-16T19:58:31Z

I start drinking at 9:#0 am having nothing better to do with my weekends. I demolish the fist 12 pack around 2pm. Decide it is time to acquire food and more beer.

Somehow I go through the supermarket and get the necessities that were required, i.e. fried chicken and a sandwich (90% of my diet consist of fried chicken or roasted chicken). I get another 12 and try to stuff the two pounds of chicken, a twelve pack, a sandwich, a dozen donuts (they were on sale) into a bag obviously not large enough. The cashier stares at me hard and long.

I skate over to the convenient store to get smokes, realize the chick shorted me a ten spot, or I had dropped it (highly unlikely in my constant state of poverty I put myself into). I shakily skate back to my place. I unload my gear and then begin to drunkenly comment on my friend's facebook (my facebook), and start drunkenly chatting on instant messenger (VisceralRush on aim). Normally it would be drunk-dials but regrettably I have not the means to settle the outstanding debt with my phone carrier, which means I had to settle for digital harassment instead of oratory molestation.

Time passes, I start smoking in my bedroom because the roommate was off doing what ever closeted homosexual, car-freak, racists, douche bags do with their free time. This left me with the ability to sit comfortably watching my tv shows via hulu.

Time passes as I bask in the warm glow of my freshly cleaned room, with fresh clean linens wrapping my bed and all my clothes cleaned, folded, and put away. The chaos that consumes me feel to the side as I did my job on the second twelve rack.

All the smoking that I had been doing in my room had produced a strong smell that my candle was unable to mask. I inspect my air freshener, that I had recently refilled, and to my surprise the air freshener was clogged and not generating the cigarette smoke cleansing smell it was designed to do. Innocently enough, as most things I do start, I begin to look for a Q-Tip that I can use to clean out the little hole that I assume makes the smelly stuff come out (air fresheners are a complex and advanced machine that eludes my understanding, it's similar to a particle accelerator, I know what it does but I haven't a clue how it does it). I pace around the house calling for Roommate who has still yet to return.

I stand at his door, swerving a little from the booze, "Hey! You in there!?". I receive no response and try the doorknob which is locked, as always (he always locks his door when he leaves yet the ps3 and large screen tv sit in the open with full access...what's of value in his room and why does he trust me so little? I have wondered that since the first time he unlocked his door.). I look around for no real reason then decide that I am going to break in, he doesn't trust me, I will give him a reason nut to.

I shot gun another beer and realize the other 12 is now dead. I grab my lock-picking tools (a safety pin and a paper clip) and go to work, the cheap lock gives up quickly and I saunter into his room. Nothing of any interest or value that I can see. He has a private bathroom that I enter, still hoping to find a q-tip. I open up cabinets, a selection of cologne I find, "dakar noir...classy, walmart must have been having a sale on cheap-ass lame cologne that nobody told me about, shucks."

I rifle some more, opening a drawer, open another, and anoth-"Oh my god! Fucking drugs!" I found his stash hidden in a drawer in his bathroom. My attempts at reading the label were a slight failure, but I ascertained that they were in fact painkillers. I slug one on the spot, chase it down with a beer. I pour a few into my hand becoming aware through my drunken haze that after 15 hours of drinking a hangover is pretty certain.

Shambling back into my room I throw the ill-gotten pills onto my cleaned dresser and went to work on my remaining six pack.

...This is what I do with my free time.

neoacidcreep @ 2009-08-08T10:57:00

2009-08-08T14:58:56Z

Why would a chick have two birds in her bush? That seems like a poor place to keep ones birds, perhaps a cage? A box, like those Chinese jobs that hold the nightinggales? I dunno, just spit balling.

It is painfully apparent that this world is a cesspool, too many people bouncing off each other with no real communication. I would blame it on the advent of the internet but I have recently given up on the belief in time;

Haha, segway.

This has be3en a long time coming, but I have utterly given up on the concept of Time. I just stopped believing in. Now, now, now; I can hear the grumblings and internal monologues going "Dear narrator, one cannot just simply give up on a belief in Time, it would be like saying 'I have stopped believing in gravity' and be surprised that I don't simply float away." To that complaint I say that if you were half the man I am, you would have floated away by simply claiming gravity doesn't exist!

I keep hearing these outlandish claims by different ages groups on how much the world has changed, even over the span of one-lifetime, and when looked at through the lens of history the scope is increased even greater. In the case of a single lifetime: A life does have the appearance of change, it has aspects of having changed through out the procession of time, to which I have to ask, of the individual, was there ever a point where you were such as such age, or such and such day, or have you merely stitched together a belief that your life has moved of a linear timeline to explain why you have memories and feelings that you, as the individual, have changed?

Ramble-y stream of conscious thought, wasn't that just? Hi, I am Josh, it is a pleasure to meet you.

In other words; because we are still the same person, we have never changed, we have just kept going forward. We, as the individual, have created arbitrary divisions in our memories to compartmentalize our lives to make it easier to comprehend. There was never a point where I was a six year old boy, just as there is no 26 year old sitting here now. I am bound to the "Now" and as soon as I try to identify the "Who" that is being referred to within the time line, that "Who" has already become something different. We exist in the "Now" and think in the past.

Does that make sense. Still feels a little wishy-washy.

Time is of the mind whereas life is of the now! Booyah!

Now, when looked at from a generational stance, people are apt to say the world is so different than what it was. Is it though? "Waking Life" has this amazing speech about some writer guy and the Bible and 44A.D. I won't sully the speech by even attempting more than a paltry paraphrase: writer guy thinks time doesn't esist, that we are all living in 44 a.d. I agree.

The world is just as messed up as it always has been and its as perfect as it ever will be. A computer appears to be an advancement but so was an abacus, or writing, or speaking, or body language, or fire, or communal groups, and blah blah blah. Any achievement we have has some sort of facsimile that past generations have had, we are not special or unique. Our world is in no more threat of ending than the ancient Romans...wait...I meant the British-FUCK, pick a country that never ended and run with that.

The internet is no different than the forums of Socrates, nothing changes, nothing will ever change. Time is an illusion of the memory, time is fake, don't be a noobtard.

neoacidcreep @ 2009-07-26T17:19:00

2009-07-26T21:20:35Z

Another lazy weekend spent trolling the world wide inter net web.

Deeply ensconced in an Isaac Asimov book, a collection of shorty stories, "Robot Visions", specifically. It makes me think about the vision that Dave has of the future in "2001", the book, not the movie (never the movie); he is astoplaning and drifts across a desolate graveyard of ever increasingly more complex robots. It implies that Man forsakes his physical form and adopts more bio-tech into his very being, and then eventually Man becomes pure thought and exits the mortal coil forever.

Asimov talks about robots being the obvious next evolutionary step, I tend to agree. I do believe that "by progress we mean rape", nothing has ever been gained without something being lost. But this isn't a bad thing, it is the natural order and lives outside of Good and Evil.

Just look at the anthropology of the hominid; if it weren't for a major catastrophic even Neanderthals would have surely still been the dominant species. They were more well suited for the harsh environment, a lot better than Homo Sapiens with our trifling little tools that need time and a massive amount of energy to be expended before becoming truly beneficial. In the Nietzschian "Will to Power" kind of way they would have obviously kicked the shit out of Homo (see what I did there? ZING!) Sapiens stolen all our food and we woulda just died, clutching some rudimentary stick weapon that we didn't have enough time to test for practicality. And one day, maybe soon, Homo Superior (yea, I'm talking about the mother fucking X-Men) will rise up when we are at our weakest and take control of the world and be the dominant species.

I am inclined to believe that our next evolutionary step will be to crawl into the technology we have created; not so much the "Terminator" end of the world with the cyborgs rising up to crush man, but a mutually beneficial arrangement that places us inside the hush of our hulking behemoths. It would be awesome, I want LASER EYES!

neoacidcreep @ 2009-07-18T19:32:00

2009-07-18T23:30:47Z

"Where were we this time? Fighting back the onslaught of time or some such nonsense?"

"That's not all I talk about."

"Well what would you like to talk about instead?"

"...I dunno, my thoughts are all over the place."

"Well just pick a point to start at and see where it takes you."

I got to get out of this place. My sister is pissed of at my nephew for being a dick and now my nephew is being a dick cause he's pissed at my sister. I'm only here for the free meal and to borrow a couple bucks. I told her I would crash tonight though, so I feel obligated to stay. I am going to leave, but have to wait for a more appropriate time.

Which leads me square to Livejournal. I have been sitting here for a good forty-five minutes trying to come up with something to write, just to look like I am busy and pretend to not notice the tension. The tension is palpable and I have nothing to say.

Bah!

I get stuck watching these kiddie type shows with my nephew and notice that the show has like a goth chick on it. What the fuck is that? I see this all the time now, emo fucks and goth kids on television, skaters and burnouts abound. This was not so whence I was of more tender years; I coulda sworn as a child we had jocks, geeks, and cheer leaders. That's it. Even in high-school the dichotomy broke down to little better then "head bangers" and "rappers". Sure we had sub-groups therein but never such a plethora of niche persona.

When did this come about? I thought it was kinda cute when Greg called me emo, I thought it was a little annoying when people referred to themselves as "scenesters", found it awful when I heard people calling other's "hipsters" as an insult, and so on and so forth. When did groups become so specific, and why do people want to fit into these tight little boxes? And when the fuck did every cocksucker get to start calling himself a fucking geek!?

All around me little sub-groups have sprung up and it irks me like nothing else. Then on top of these drip-shits walking around in girl jeans (and you are dude, you are walking around in girl jeans, I shouldn't have to figure out if I am checking out a chick's ass or a dude's ass by context clues.) they call themselves geeks. Somehow every moron that has ever stumbled across "Star Wars", or read comic book, or used a computer suddenly starts to calling themselves a geek.

I have been calling myself a geek since way back. I didn't do it to fit into some social norm, some little fucking "box". Quite the opposite in fact. Was I somehow inadvertently following a trend by trying not to follow the trends? Do my late teen years now need to be retconed with the knowledge that I am part of the seething mas of dip shits that I so disdain?

Whatever, I have systematically given up my fervent desire to be a geek. I am now a douche bag, happily. I have taken what was to be an insult and have made it into a personal moniker.

...Yea, so there's that.

Having finally received my birth certificate I have made an appointment to become a full-fledge Florida resident. I will be able to enter age restricted areas with impunity. I will be able to purchase all the beautiful things that keep me going through the day, i.e. cigs and beer. Cigs and beer is my motivation to continue to work a job and adhere to social mores, like showering so that the liquor store attendant will not make a face when I try to procure the sweet nectar of the gods.

Speaking of which, I want a beer. Perpetually wanting a beer.

I feel detached from my circle of friends. The ones I want to talk to have grown tired of my drunken antics and are dubious with answering my phone calls, and the ones that I don't want to talk to seem to not understand that I am on to something else. Ho hum.

The thunderclaps and lightning strikes have made me reconsider my return trip to my domicile and have forced me into spending the evening here. Somehow the vibe has notably improved.

neoacidcreep @ 2009-06-27T22:01:00

2009-06-28T03:16:33Z

Someone asked me, recently, how I find the dedication to keep writing. And I quote:

"So you write. I also love to write, always have, but have issues with self-discipline in that I sit down to do it but my mind wanders and I get fidgety and I hate what the pen is putting on the paper and I give up. What is your secret?"

This really threw me, the chick is right. She was only asking a question, but for some reason it hit me like a sack o' fudging potaters to the dome piece.

I want to write, I enjoy writing, I would love to be published, and I enjoy knowing people actually read my nonsense. I have just stopped writing, as-of-late, cause I am either fried after work and so bored that I wait for 9 o'clock to roll around so I can go to sleep with out feeling like an utter loser, or I believe my thought process has been lame/stupid/trite/glib/bullshit. I keep finding myself wanting to write, but as soon as I sit down to write, I think that my topic is trite.

Going back and rereading past entries, I realize that I enjoy entries that are more whimsical and less, obviously trying to be, poignant (by-the-by, had a little trouble spelling that word, so I double-checked the spelling, but check out the definition, aren't the first and second entries completely different than one another?!) are more enjoyable to read. And honestly, why am I trying to craft a master-fucking-piece on the interwebs? What happen to having fun with it?

So...

I turn around one day and I have become Jack, no mas Tyler Durden, mucho Jack's hierve el odio de todo lo que se han convertido en.

It bothers me, but only insofar as that I am upset that I have more-or-less forsaken these beliefs that I swore were going to last forever. Now I find myself trying, passively, to sign-up for an Ikea newsletter. I have asked myself as-of-late, "what shirt defines me?" I find myself getting sucked into this cultural obsession with buying, "what couch defines me as a person", if you will.

It's not that I am even bothered with the feeling that I need to own stuff. If nothing else, I have become quite minimalistic since I left Newburgh, and even more so since I left 'Cuse. I can literally pack up my shit into two bags, besides my computer. I can move with one trip from an suvee. I am more bothered by the idea that I made these outlandish claims when I was younger.

I have suddenly realized I want nice things. I want a nice suit, a nice couch, a nice tv (arguably, maybe just to play some wideo gamage), I want to walk into a room and not become very aware that I am in a bleach stained comic book t-shirt, and there is honestly nothing wrong with that.

I have just become aware that I am not happy with how I present myself to the world, and you know what? End of the day, you all are judgmental fucks that base you opinion solely on the fact that my t-shirt is faded or my sneaks are dirty! So what do I do? Conform to the system.

Who am I rebelling against? No one. Society deems something one way and I can either go against the grain and garner people's comments or disdain, or I can hit up a Target (still have a staunch 20 dollar pants limit), hit up a salvo (Salvation army/Thrift Store, I had no clue what the fuck a salvo was so I got your back...yo!), and then I don't have to hear shit. Yea, I might have bad taste in clothes, but I don't want to catch mummers about my "Green Lantern" T-shirt.

I think that is the crux of my entire entry; somehow, despite, fundamentally changing my belief structure to the complete opposite of what it was 5 years ago, I feel that I have actually gotten close to what I actually believe. I notice it more and more, people are enthralled by me. People actually listen to me, and by virtue of being who I always have been, I win them over. I am attracting more flies with honey then with vinegar.

I am very different then the "norm" but I get that I am. I grasp that I do not have the same ideals and goals as the majority of people, but I am trying to work within the system to show people how stupid it is. Clothes, money, cars, women, sex, power, do any of these actually make you happy? No. I know it, you know it, we all know it. And whereby me displaying my flippancy to people, especially when I am wearing a nice button down Polo shirt, a pair of newish clean pants, my facial hair trimmed up scruffy but still "neat", my hair done even slightly, and perfumed, I have this image that I am "one-of-you", which makes me approachable, but then I spout ideas that are completely contrary to what they believe. I am finally starting to see the pay off.

I hear people repeat things that I said to me, why?! Because it is actually sinking in. I am fighting the system even better from the inside than I could from the outside. There is no problem with that. As long as I keep my ideals intact and remind myself that normalcy is a slipstream to death, I can survive and be happy with myself within "their" world.

...am I becoming the warrior monk again? ...completely without my knowledge?

EPIC!

neoacidcreep @ 2009-05-16T22:24:00

2009-05-17T02:24:54Z

I picked up some Nietzsche recently; it did not occur to me that I had already read this book. It is apparently a compilation of two works, “Birth of Tragedy” and “The Case of Wagner”, I had read “Birth of...” years ago but the name being slightly different threw me off.

Now I know every piece Nietzsche has ever written (he’s like a heroin addiction I hate but can’t quit), I can recite the titles by memory, I haven’t read them all, but I have read a fair amount of them. Why then did simply adding another essay he wrote to the title get me confused? A girl.

Let me paint the scene; I am at a used bookstore slash comic shop, that is frequented by two types 1) old women looking for cheap romance novels (the romance section is jaw dropping, literally thousands upon thousands of titles) and 2) nerdy white dudes looking for a fix (star wars novels in abundance, a section dedicated to ufo’s and a section for paranormal, not to mention standards, horror, sci-fi, blah, and a massive fuck off collection of comics. If you are a dork, they got it.). Suffice to say, when I am in this store I can allow myself to be a complete dork marveling at first edition Orwell’s or drooling over a hardbound copy of Hesse’s “Siddhartha”. This whole store is a safe haven for trying to act above this type of behavior.

With purpose I beeline it for the philosophy section (painfully smaller than even the most fringe of paranormal sub-genres, but a philosophy section nevertheless.), I whip the corner and BAM! Cute chick; long dark hair, tight form fitting shirt, short shorts barely covering a delicious ass that taper into long smooth flawless legs. “Fuck”. In the real world I would be able to keep my composure, she was cute, but not drop dead gorgeous. Normally.

Here in the land of Dork, I had reverted to my primal nerd. I was in no way prepared to confront a cute girl, especially not in the philosophy section. The philosophy section is any bookstore, ever, has been the one place that no matter how full the store was, I am allowed to be completely alone. I never have to move around some one, and now I turn a corner and there is a smoking hottie. I freak, I suddenly feel like I am a poser and only came into this section to rub up on her, her reaction mirrored my fears and she shuffled away.

I am completely flustered and have no clue what to do, I didn’t necessarily want any philosophy, just came to check the selection. Immediately I feel obligated to buy a book to prove to her I wasn’t stalking her. I scan the titles not really registering anything, “Nietzsche”, the petrified 11 year old boy I had become recognized the name and grabbed the first title as I fled the scene like I had just murdered a hooker and needed to disappear.

In my shame a slink around the store dodging her as best I can, I get to the counter and slam my books down. I spark a conversation with the 500 pound man in a rolly chair that is “running register”, this sheepish kid is intently trying to get the guys attention that is wrapped up in a conversation with me and has his back to this kid. He dances from foot-to-foot trying to find a moment to interject; I feel I am utterly more important than he is so every time I see him about to interject I say something else leaving him gaping like a fish on the shore.

I am completely disinterested in the conversation I am having, but deriving immense pleasure in needling this dork so I continue on this course. Sure enough, just to remind me that God does exist (and probably doesn’t like me much), the cute girl slides up next to him and embraces him. Too stunned to continue in my tactic the kid finally gets the guy’s attention. “Can you cut me a break if I buy the whole first run of the “Star Wars Comics”?” Fuck me running. Not only does he have a cute girlfriend, he is less attractive then I am, extremely more nerdy, and an even bigger pussy then I am.

Just can’t win some days.

the only part of the epic five page entry that i could gather was a parenthetical reference...

2009-05-03T18:08:52Z

Here is my vision of Hell: Meet a girl you really like, maybe not love, but maybe it is, how can anyone ever know when they are in love (they will tell themselves)? Things are going good, not great, but good. You get a little too much drink in you, miss gauge your timing, BAM! She’s knocked-up. The bullshit job you have doesn’t pay enough so you tax your limited resume to get a job that you are just a little under qualified for, which leaves you with this perpetual feeling that you beholden and that you are never quite good enough to get raises and promotions. Baby comes along, things deteriorate with the girl. She says you don’t make enough money and don’t provide well enough, you start nodding your head at all of her insults and accusations she throws at you. You start drinking a little more than normal; she suddenly doesn’t seem so bad when you are half cocked, BAH! Kid number two! You tax your resume even more, driving you further into the abysmal existence of post-modern middle management (or worse, you go military a la my father, or start painting houses or scrapping road kill or any other mindless soul crushing job.) and get a job you are even less qualified for, but with a better starting salary. Buy a house, get a new car that your wife, the wife you barely tolerate, claims as her own, you celebrate, BAM! Kid number three. You are completely bound to your job that you aren’t very good at; you are constantly worried that your higher-ups will notice the truth and fire you, subsequently losing house, car, wife, and kids. Your kids don’t respect you because you are too caught up trying to maintain your job that you don’t have time, or mental elasticity to entertain their whims, or the money necessary to buy their affections. Wake up one day and realize you didn’t invest properly and can’t retire. Death.

neoacidcreep @ 2009-05-03T00:45:00

2009-05-03T04:46:50Z

5 page journal entry that i fucked up trying to lj cut it so that it wasn't a massive block of text on your screen. ...so...that was a monumental waste of my time

neoacidcreep @ 2009-04-08T19:42:00

2009-04-08T23:45:53Z

In reference to an LJ buddy, this is my comment I left him, original entry can be found HERE!

i'm sorry, i didn't read the entire entry, i read the first few paragraphs and felt overcome to address you, and than skimmed the rest. a thousand apologies laid at your feet.

but;

as Christians, we are not necessarily bound by the pact of the Old Covenant; in theory Christ released us from the shackles of the Jewish Covenant.

I personally do try to make saturdays my day of rest, my day of "leisure" (or date night, depending on my social standings at the time), i do not think it is wrong, in this modern world, for us to not adhere completely to the idiom of the Sabbath.

especially in your case; although your gnostic leanings often put me at odds with your thought process i still commend you for your, almost, fanatical fervor for Christian ideology.

Christ, though, left us (Christians) with two Commandments that encompass, and surpass, the original 10 (arguably 9, unless you count the, i believe, three that he[Moses] destroyed in rage) in their simplicity and poetry, i.e.: "Do onto others as you would have done onto yourself", and "love no god before the One True God" (“Teacher, which is the most important commandment in the law of Moses?” Jesus replied, “‘You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. A second is equally important: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ The entire law and all the demands of the prophets are based on these two commandments.” (Matthew 22:36-40) scriptural reference cause i am an alcoholic moron that has a VERY limited command of the Bible.).

this is the core of my faith and my "religion", all else is forgiven and mutable. Sabbaths and Communion and Gospels and Churches all take a second seat to the beauty that we all (humanity) most love each other and be consumed with God. you, sir, are consumed by God and should never fear any reproach for entertaining work on the Sabbath, but also remember that other's mightn't have the ability to close up shop cause it's saturday, and you should respect them and love them because they are toiling away on God's day.

Some of us have the luxury, in this modern world, to be consumed by God, most of us can only entertain the notion of God like we would any hobby or interest, and then some of us cannot be bothered; they should all be loved, all be rejoiced in, and all should be prayed for to find the "truth" behind all their endeavors.

AND!

i haven't updated in a while, so i hope you don't mind, but i just wrote a lengthy, semi-coherent, comment that can have implications beyond your original entry, ergo, i am gonna steal the shit out of this and post it to my lj! HAhaaaaaaaaaaa!

neoacidcreep @ 2009-03-09T19:58:00

2009-03-10T00:28:12Z

I have been having this massive back and forth with myself the last few days on whether i should give up on Livejournal or not. The crux: I love to write and want people to read my bullshit. I am just not generating a good enough foot traffic through my lj and I only have four friends that update with any regularity. I have seriously debated jumping ship.

I will say this now to the few of you that actually read my posts: I refuse to leave Livejournal!

I might slack off even more with the updating, and especially the commenting. But you know what?

Fuck, I have too many years of chronology to just give up on this bullshit.

I will break one promise I have made before; this will become more of my day to day bullshit life that no one cares about.

I will try to keep this as more experimental writings and more philosophical meanderings, with an amount of bullshit when I want to write, but I will try to save my more humorous rants for "mitigated accomplishments". So please, if you like something I wrote, you think it is bad, you think I should stop writing, please. Let me know. This is going to become my more "serious" journal, it is replacing my physical journal, despite not being penned by my own physical hand, it still has a very personal feel to it.

So either you love this, hate this, or are completely indifferent. I don't fucking care.

Unfortunately, I am having the "big" conversation with one of my favorite girl friends. She says we don't talk seriously, so of course I go right to God (can't get bigger, eh?). She proceeds to tell me that she "believes in science". Automatically, auto-fucking-matically I have the response that most have to rancid meat. It is visceral, it is physical, it is automatic; the whole conversation plays in my head and it ends up with her angry at me for making her feel stupid and her looking stupid.

I try to be nice. I try to not get into it. Hark back to my masturbation schedule and drinking habits. No. She at first won't let it go.

She makes a few comments that actually make me feel like she is talking down to me. I dodge the bullet. I get her to stop talking about it, but for the next few days I walk around thinking about how much a cunt she is.

"Why is your belief in science anymore valid then my belief in God?"
"Can you prove any of the science you claim to believe in?"
"Does quantum mechanics make any fucking sense?!"

These people sit around in this pretentious air, self bloated, with this idea "I believe in science". But do you actually believe in science or merely regurgitate what you have heard from news sources and people you thought to be more intelligent?

And what the fuck does that even mean?! "I believe in science"? Like oh, suddenly a friend of multiple years that has deftly avoid this topic suddenly doesn't understand gravity? Oh, I believe in God so obviously I can't understand that light is energy and also matter moving in a string, as well as(!), a wave?! what the fuck?! I just can't accept the fossil record proving some type of evolution?! tell me where I am faltering.

neoacidcreep @ 2009-02-10T08:39:00

2009-02-10T13:31:27Z

depression cycle ending, hyper cycle starting!

i am being goofy and extroverted, i want to talk to people, i want to entertain whimsy and dance in the rain.

oh, the joy of neurosis!

latest and greatest idea: http://mitigatedaccomplishments.blogspot.com/

Making a real blog where I make fun of the internet culture and specific internet type peoples...fun fun.

neoacidcreep @ 2009-02-08T21:51:00

2009-02-09T02:52:13Z

This filthy window I have

Only let’s in the sickest light

The laziest of sunbeams

Trickles in like frothing bile

Out of a diseased mouth,

Falling on my cold body

Is it the light, or jaundice?

I can’t tell any more.

The mangled trees leave

An aching void inside me.

Barren branches clacking

Against the violent winds.

Merely motion no thought.

A need to move and be moved,

The decaying tree means more

Then my infantile lifestyle.

Beset by this clogged window

Twiddling my fingers, passing

Time until I am released.

I vomit on myself and window,

The stomach lining and blood

Add much needed color to the scene.

A violent vibrancy sponsoring

A bought of ill-advised anger.

Smashing the chair, collapsing

The wall in the process.

Strangle the cat that doesn’t

Even love me after all I’ve done.

Another bought of retching

Brings me up short.

Looking out over a wasteland

Skewed sickly brown and yellow

Through this miserable window,

My stomach trying to escape

It’s captivity from within me.

Blood let loose from palms

Cut by the walls craftsmanship,

Rivulets cascading parallel to me.

The tree waving to some friend

In the distance unseen to my eye.

Flashes of anger dance

On my mind’s eye, hatred, rage

Blood, death, life, waste, nothing!

neoacidcreep @ 2009-02-08T21:00:00

2009-02-09T02:03:39Z

A couple hits of speed and a paint brush make me oddly happy and satisfied.

Doing a quick paint job for my boss has a cathartic effect on me, releasing more tension then maybe it should. Helping realign my perspective back to my minimalistic, stress-free, monastic life style...

neoacidcreep @ 2009-02-05T20:29:00

2009-02-06T01:32:21Z

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/29017808/

This is a brave new world...

300 Pound Tumor Museum (Social Media Sites)

2009-02-05T16:22:44Z

1. I hate when people fill out bios on superfluous websites. I don't need to know you are single on Singlesnet.com, I don't care that your facebook list all the minutia of your life, fuck myspace.
2. I hate when people start out said bios with, "I don't know what to say...", if you don't know what to say, abstain. It is better to look like a fool then to open your mouth and prove it.
3. I hate when they end with "...if you want to know just ask.". No fucking shit, thanks for the heads up that you are obviously looking to communicate with other people through today's sock puppet.
4. I hate when they use tween speak inside of said bios. Don't, just don't.
5. I hate when people tag photos with "I look so ugly in this." You don't think you do, or you wouldn't have posted it to the fucking internet.
6. I hate tween speak in general, I hate that my spell check knows what tween fucking speak is. I hate that it has wouldn't underlined but not fucking tween.
7. I hate when people define themselves as "into everything". No you aren't. Shut up. Stop lying.
8. I hate it when the person's picture shows them as obviously as overweight but their activities include a whole plethora of sports and "working-out". Liar.
9. I hate when chicks think they are being clever by taking pictures that obscure their body. Sweetie, we don't need to see your body to get that you are fat, we automatically assume you are a whale because you are hiding the fact.
10. I hate when people have pictures of their animals as their profile picture.
11. Or when they tell me I "must love" animals to talk to them. No I don't. Fuck you.
12. Fuck tween speak in general. Do not sully my language because you are too fucking lazy to type two extra letters.
13. Fuck emoticons.
14. Stop with the surveys. Just stop. It was bad enough when I got the stupid emails on AOL, now it is just annoying that I have to check my email to find out that I have a message on a website that I have to log-in to to find out that you want to know my five favorite foods. You don't want to know, you don't care, and I don't care.
15. I hate when people leave overly complex away messages.
16. Or when they leave instructions for me to call their cell phone. I don't want to call your cell, if I wanted to speak to you I would have...wait on it...called your fucking phone!
17. I hate when people are constantly changing their status on websites. I don't need minute to minute updates on how your day is going. I don't care that you are in class, or cold, or hungry, or tired. Fuck yourself.
18. It is the letter P, it is not a tongue sticking out, it is a P. It doesn't denote that you are being funny or sardonic, it's a fucking P.
19. I hate it when people think they are being cute, or clever, and write in lower case, upper case, lower case, et cetra. That is so ASCII/BBS old school.
20. Seriously. Fuck emoticons.
21. Just because it is a text message, or an instant message, or an e-mail (especially e-mail), using some fucking grammar.
22. I get that your myspace/facebook profile defines you as a person, I get it, I don't need to spend fifteen minutes loading your profile cause you need to have an animated-dancing, pink, teddy-bear background, and 47 pictures of what type of fairy you are, or if you were a animal what type you would be, or whatever other idiotic survey you took that repersents you at very deep personal level. My bandwith is important to me!
23. Why do you have an overabundance of pictures from some party you were at were you aren't even in the majority of them?
24. You do not have multiple hundreds of friends. I know you don't, you know (at some base level) you don't, other people know you don't. It's one thing to try and meet new people it is a completely different story when you needlessly exaggerate your popularity by friending anyone and everyone that has ever agrigated in your "similar fields".
25. Your font style does not define you!
26. Fuck "lol". You are not laughing, no one has ever laughed and "lol-ed". Stop.
27. Why is it not cool to ask a chick friend what they are wearing via text message?
28. I hate when people talk about their online profiles in the real world. Please stop hinting that you want me to friend you in a casual conversation, do not tell me that you updated your default picture, or changed some minute detail on your page.
29. No, seriously, fuck tween speak.
30. Check out my facebook at Josh Bandersnatch. AnD CoMmEnT oN My EnTrY! ;-P!!!!! TaTiLy NeW pIcS 4 u 2 c!!!!

6th attempt at an update

2009-02-02T04:15:19Z

"i am queen mab
queen of the faries and wood nymphs"

"that is cool how are the woods?"

"how should i know?!
it is merely a subprovince of mine!
should i slum it in all the provinces under my rule!?"
should i inquire as to the ogres and imps
that lease land in my western caves!?
next you will say that i should check the condition
of jub jub birds nest"

"apparently if was all a farce to him makes it even more stupid"*

"i love things that are deemed farces
if we all thought of life as farcical life would be so much more pleasant"

"just a frightened little kid inside."

"why do people always need to validate relationships?
why is closer always tied off with a bow of knowing the other person
was annoyed and molested by your behaviour?
especially in a romantic sense, when two lovers first meet
they are full of whimsy and gaiety
cut to the end and their lips drip poison for the other?
but see the poison drips far and wide, drips from ear to lip to ear...
it is a spreading disease of corruption
we choose to remember our own lives,
we weave a tapestry through the prism of mentality
and to conjecture as to my meanderings is a slippery slope
for one who might not know who this is
albeit those closest to me still fall
into error when trying to define my thoughts

the taste of venom wells upon the lips and mouth
reminding me of the visage you once potrayed
it seeps through my veins into my core,
pulsing with the beat of my heart
bringing back the frothing rage that compliments my new attire"

"that is the big difference between you and i"

"i would peg down our major difference more in the anatomy department
and the whole royalty thing"

"what?
what the fuck does that mean?"

"i am the queen mab
lord of the fairies and wood nymphs"

"and i?"

"what would humpty dumpty say about your airs?
he told me that i was the most regal royal he has laid eyes on upon that fine day

"well why are you being mean to me?"

"perception of events
i believe i am being whimsical and speaking in prose
you perceive aggression

"your saying your the king and i am plain
like plain is a bad thing to be"

"queen!
i am queen mab
lord of the fairies and wood nyphms
you might think about usurping a thrown and seizing a title
whilst i was born into my noble lineage you will find the nobles
are not very picky about the aquisition of titles

"wanna get married?"

"some day
to a good strong squirrel
with spider web wings and emerald eyes"

"too bad my eyes are blue"

"ah, one day i shall pluck out my king's noble eyes
and sell them to fill the larders during a particularly tough winter
but dare to dream has always been my mother's advice
the suns hath set and the night's chill is upon my naked form,
and then the question that haunts my dreams arises
yet again to the fore of my mind:
are we done playing my game already?
if only to find a participant with similar stamina,
poor old humpty can out spin me,
the grumpy old devil is not to my par any longer"

that was kind of a transcript from a instant message conversation, i cleaned it up a hair...i don't know i like some of the phrases in it...kind of poetry, i guess.

neoacidcreep @ 2009-01-25T16:43:00

2009-01-25T22:40:04Z

I feel like a rapist, merely lacking in intent.

Prowling the streets at night, I exude an aura of evil, it is merely a self-defense mechanism that might be overly developed. It keeps the riff-raff away, I see how women respond to my downward turned glance, inflated chest, furrowed brow, and clenched fist. Randomly cackling at some unheard joke and making faces to amuse myself complete the look of a deranged sociopath on the hunt for his next victim.

...this could all be in my head though.

I can see guys exerting typical alpha male behavior when I encroach upon them and their mate. Everything about their mannerisms screams fear.

Related note:

The itty-bitty pieces of material slug tightly across perky nubile feminine flesh remind me that I am in fact not gay. Watching a trio of early twenties-late teenagers lather lotion, adjust bikinis, tee-hee, and giggle at each other, noting the wonderful curves each process or how something so innocuous as attempting to remove a smudge from a mound of boob-meat can drive me fucking nuts. I can't help but keep glancing over, keep looking at each individually delectable body part in turn. Ugh, drives me fucking wild. Then just like every other good dream, the alarm clock sounds crashing the illusion.

My headphones fall silent for all of two seconds and her piercing shriek "stay away from me you fucking one legged bird!" cuts over the din of the beach revelers. Just like that I find myself wishing I was gay.

You could just hear it in her voice that she was trying to get attention, they all are. These innocuous actions aren’t, they are meticulously planned and staged actions for the direct outcome of drawing attention, of having guys look at them. The entire idea of the bikini is merely another modality of the same latent expression, i.e. “look at me!”

Not to mention that you are on a public fucking beach! There are kids and mothers and foreigners and teachers and priest and grandmothers and every other type of person milling around that you do not piercingly scream the fucking f-word. It’s just tasteless.

If have figured out the perfect way to not eat! Only buy black beans, undercook them in the Crockpot, and add bacos! It is such a bland flavor and ill textured food source you will constantly ask yourself if you are hungry enough to actually eat the shit.

What else.

Oh, Obama. Does anyone else have this deep fear that he is “the black president”? I keep hearing how much he is going to change shit-he’s black, how Martin Luther King’s dream came true-he’s black, he’s going to shake stuff up-he’s black, he’s for the average man-he’s black! Blah, blah, blah.

Why is no one talking about how he stuttered taking the oath for office? Why does no one see that he is still a Politian, still bred for success and raised up in luxury?

I am afraid that white guilt is going to make excuses for anything this guy does or that America will expect less then because he is black. It’s a disservice to the President. He is the President first black second. He isn’t the embodiment of King’s ideal, the American people are, although I have suspicions that people voted for him because he was black not for his politics; king’s dream was to live in harmony, all people of all colors, Every American that voted Obama encapsulates King’s dream.

I voted McCain…can’t always pick the winners I guess.

What an affront to this political figure though. I keep hearing comments about how he is going to fix things, even though, upon questioning, the person has no tangible reason for this belief outside of the fact that he himself is different. And is he really that different?

Are political figureheads ever really that different? They all come from money, and money begets money, they are sent to private schools and sheltered away from the lower classes. They are groomed to go to the right schools and join the right clubs. Politicians are made not born.

He will hopefully get the rest of the world off our nut sack for four years. It is slightly amazing that parties were happening in London watching his speech live. That’s good for foreign affairs, and I know so many people voted him into office based on his foreign policy, not because he said he was going to pull out of Iraq and tax refunds.

Which if anyone is reading the papers, the earliest we can pull out is 2010, the Iraqi government doesn’t want us to leave until the situation is stabilized, they merely want large control of American military operations. And wasn’t Bush ridiculed for offering to fix the economy with a tax refund check? Why is Obama’s plan less ridiculous? Oh, wait, that’s right because he’s black.

I don’t even know what I am saying, political rant turned into axe grinding.

I wrote the most offensive statement I have ever thought-up, I give you…The Insult:

“Just cause your daddy only told you he loved you when you were wiping his cum off you face...(insert appropriate action)”

neoacidcreep @ 2009-01-14T21:20:00

2009-01-15T02:41:43Z

A dear friend of mine forced me to stop whining about having writer's block, and I quote, "just write something", she needs so desperately for me to offer up my unique brand of rambling soliloquy which sponsored me into procuring a twelve pack, sparking a cigarette, and vomiting my latest moronism onto the keyboard.

Here I am, knock, knock, knocking on the door of 26 years old. Supposedly I am part of this magical demographic of 18-35 year old men with a disposable income and filled with a deep technolust that sponsors us onto buy every new doodad and gadget that will make our lives easier, while simultaneously bequeathing copious amounts of top notch puss onto us.

I say mythical because I barely make it from pay check to pay check. I have had to ask for an advance on "next week's pay" every week for three weeks now. After the necessities, shelter, beer, cigarettes, and porn, I don't have enough left over to get anything but Raman and knock-off brand Spam (more like actually being ecited to round up a buck to get the knock-off brand Spam).

Even if I trim off the silly things like shelter and porn, where am I supposed to get this magical income that allows me to buy all this crap? How am I supposed to get laid if I can't get the new iWhatever?

Yes, this thought did occur to me while I was eating a 15 dollar plate of Ribs at a dive diner, looking at apartments on my brand-new slider phone. Taking virtual tours of condos on the beach of this affluent county I live in over my 3G network while wolfing down a ridiculously overpriced meal. And, yes, I am writing this on my brand-spanking-new computer with a massive 20 odd inch screen, more memory then I can masturbate to in a year, and more ram then I can lag down. ...I might also be listening to my new mp3 player...

These were not purchases though, merely clever marketing and happenstance. I noticed this when I was sitting on the beach the other day, halfheartedly doing a crossword, the waves crashing softly, the vibrant sand, the sun over my shoulder, the clear blue water hypnotically moving in...and then out...in...and then out...in...you get the point. While enjoying all this serenity, all I could think about was how bad I wanted a Corona. Fucking marketing.

Am I actually part of this demographic or am I just a poser pretending to be in this demographic? I don't personally think any body in my age bracket is truly in this demographic but we have been very subtly told that we are supposed to be this group that can get these inane items that will solve our problems and fix our lives, ergo we do whatever it takes to get said items.

Basically, I am still a ten year old boy, Christmas is around the corner, and I am going to do whatever I need to to get that Sega Genesis, I am not going to get a paper route and save every dollar I can to get it. I am going to beg my parents, I am going to get my parents to give me lunch money for the month upfront and buy it and then not eat.

Is that what they mean about a "disposable income"? Is it merely that I would rather mis-budget my income, or call in favors to get the newest and best thing just so I have the latest and greatest for a few minutes?

Who knows. I am going to go watch porn on my cellphone just because I can and you can't!

neoacidcreep @ 2008-12-22T09:32:00

2008-12-22T14:24:44Z

I still don't have a cell phone, still no access to a computer except at work and I am too busy to update, apparently I am getting a promotion and a raise with a computer tacked on, so I will be updating soon, and playing warcraft 3...AT with the Twins and Spam Boy will be epic.

Thanksgiving

2008-11-27T22:09:11Z

Thanksgiving... oh thanksgiving. The beginning of the holiday months, the beginning of family, and food, and drama, and drinking, and annoyance, and family, and family, and family...

Bah.

I am completely incommunicato, completely.

It is scary, not having a cellphone, or, moreover, not having anyone's phone numbers drives me further into the reclusive arena. If you ever want to talk to me, friend or random livejournal friend even, go to omitted you can talk to me on the livechat, or you can call customer support, fifty fifty shot you get me. ...Buy some body jewelry too, we have some nice earrings, let me know I know you and I will get you the hook up.

Florida is amazing, the beach and weather have swayed me to the dark side. I got a place literally 20 feet from the beach. It is overpriced and underfurnished, it is one bed, a minifridge, a tv...that's it...floor to ceiling mirrors though, which my ego simply adores, for the monthly cost of 800 dollars. It is maybe 8 by 10, that might be bigger then it is. But the veiw, the veiw makes the room worth it, right over the beach, swathed in natural sunlight at seven am waking me from my slumber.

I am going to get a computer soon, until then getting in touch with me is hard. Goto omitted. I love the site, love the job, I am rapidly taking over the office, getting creative input on the site and business model. The first job I had that feel like it could be a career.

Hawaii in 2013!

neoacidcreep @ 2008-10-17T22:39:00

2008-10-18T03:20:23Z

Culture shock:

Is it October and eight hundred fucking degrees outside? And humid? What the fuck?!

this is obviously not New York.

I am in Florida. ...With my sister...

I got in today around 5 a.m. and have been running hard ever since. Her and I have been bleary-eyed talking about the past, we have established ground rules, we have hung out all day, we went shopping, she listened and asked my opinion, she bought me lunch, she bought me cigarettes, she bought me a big ass bottle of wine, she has treated me like a man... no good will come from this.

Have her and I matured?

Have we grown enough as people that the seven year age difference, the thought that she raised me, the psychological abuse she waged out on to me, the horrible things she did to me as a child, have diminished?

I don't know...

I have missed my sister.

I really have.

I forget that I love my family, they come second to me (God gets first slot, then them, and believe it or not, I get third billing on my own playlist). No matter what I am going through one of my immediate family will take care of me, they get it.

I am lost.

I am a drift at sea looking for a safe harbor.

I abhor calling in their help, abhor it. Mainly due to the fact that they don't even seem to notice.

Kelly took me out for a day, showed me around the new city and allowed me to sway her opinion on all sorts of things, from where she was going to buy me lunch, to what kind of coffee pot she was going to buy me, to even what kind of toaster oven she'd get and where she'd put it.

And the most beautiful and (genetically) binding statement she could ever make:
(Scene: Her standing in line to buy me a carton of cigarettes)Her: Do you want a twelve pack or something?
Me: (Shifty-eyed) Not really.
Her: If you fucking want it go get it now (and then she literally quotes me without ever knowing these words have been formed in my mind let alone escaped my mouth), the honey-moon period is ending tomorrow!

She screams after as I go get a big, big, bottle of wine. ...I am drunk.

I genuinely miss Syracuse, I really do. I miss "my house", I miss macs, I miss the Twin, I miss my (suddenly and very deep) friends, I didn't say bye to Tara, or Ben, or a whole slew of people, and I miss Sab's, and 12 brothers, and Mo, and all the other minute details that I never really noticed I loved about Syracuse.

Yes, I want to go back there right now, and if I had the money I would crawl back with my tail between my legs, I won;t. And I wouldn't even if I had the money, I am just being a drunk romantic. Yes, shit between Kelly and I will degrade, we will fight, well will argue, we will hate each other; and you know what, I can actually be myself around her.

I have at most four people I can be myself infront of (Kelly, Brooke, Mom, Greg...Dad...not so much...). It is weird... they have always tried to make me strive for better while still allowing me to be an utter fuckup. They won't admit it readily, but I am, and always will be, their baby brother, and I need protection. Some dark anscetral manly part of me that I have long since forgotten stirs in me and wants me to exert the kind of man I am becoming; I want to show them that, "no, I have not grown like you wanted me to, yes, I read comics and play video games. Yes, tomorrow I am going to try to get a job at the very local comic shop; but yes, I can keep a house, I can find a bargain, I can keep clean, I have grown up, I have just grown up and away from you guys."

I feel as though this might actually bring the family closer together; Brooke and Kelly are best friends, I didn't even know that my one sister got pretty all over again. I didn't know that my other sister was getting the shit kicked out of her by some scum fuck that I will hurt whence I see him (pascifism be damned, I will not let some fucking cock suck hit my sister, especially enlight of it happening enough that she thought I already kew... throat slitish!). I havebeen, maybe, allowing myself to be out of the loop, but I stand by it, I have always been chasing after them.

I still bought both of 'em the last round of birthday presents three years ago, the last birthday presnt I remember was from Brooke on my 17 birthday (eight years ago) when she got me a pack of cookies and watched half a movie (she didn't want to watch but I did). Kelly...I don'r know if she ever bought me an actual birthday gift.

My newphew is hyper...super hyper...like I was...super like I was...

I don't think I can handle it....

I am doing good though. I am. Very good day.

Tomorrow I will update all about how harrowing my adventure down her was.

Short Story

2008-09-02T21:13:06Z

It's Monday, around 3 o'clock in the afternoon, I just odered a rum and coke. This is the first time I have ever drank in the afternoon, well except weddings and the occassional birthday party. This is the first time I have ever consciously gone to a bar by myself in the middle of the afternoon. Technically this isn't a bar, technically it is a strip club. Another first, besides my eighteenth birthday and my friend's bachleor party.

I don't really know what I am supposed to be doing.

I am staring straight ahead at the bar fidgeting with my drink, but the giant mirrior reflects back a girl on a pole trying her best to get a few bucks out of the other five or six guys in here with me. The darkened lights and horrible 90's rock have a dizzying effect on me. If I weren't checking my watch as if I actually had an appointment to be somewhere, I wouldn't have any clue if I had been here an hour or a year.

The song changes. I try not to notice the girl slinking off the stage collecting her few articles of clothing and a few dollars, but the mirrior catches everything.

I am going to leave after this drink, I promise.

A slower song starts to play, the lights dim even more. The disheartened DJ says something uninteligible over the P.A. system and then she comes out. I see her reversed in this mirrior, but I am transfixed. I turn around on my bar stool to actualy look at this girl. She is a vision. She is perfection. I am in love.

I am not the first guy to fall in love with a stripper, heh, that's how they pay thier rent I would assume. And, honestly, what am I but completely average? I am Average height, average weight and build, light brown hair cut to a respectable medium length, brown eyes, I am Christian, and middle management with limited advancement oppurtunities. Heck, I was even a B student in college. I am the way these girls pay their rent.

Grabbing my drink I float over to the stage with my feet never touching the ground and my eyes never leaving her's. I somehow end up in a chair stairing up at her. Every step bringing her closer and making her even more perfect and flawless. The song plays for an eternity while she spins and gyrates. I absorb every nuance, soak up every inch of her body, I forget to actually give her money.

The song ends and she glides off stage. Cursing myself I return to the bar, finishing my rum and coke, which was mainly coke, in one swallow. I slam the glass down, "One more...make it a double." I felt so masculine, those words had never left my mouth. I didn't even really know what it means. Is it two drinks? Like a big glass of soda with two shots of rum? Is it two shots of rum with less soda? I didn't know.

When the bartender returns with my drink I ask him who that last girl was and when she'd be back on.
"Candy. There's three girls on, one song, one girl, do the math." He responed in a very dry rehersed fashion.

I become giddy, a wave of butterflies whells in my stomach. Two songs to go, and the girl that was on was already well in to her retuine, well I assume she was, she was almost complete naked so there couldn't be much more left.

I hardly realize that I am gulping down my drink, trying to figure out how long an average rock song from '94 was.

I finish my drink before the girl finishes her dance. I turn around almost out of disgust, why would any one want to watch her when Candy was coming back on. I don't notice the bartender refill my drink because I am lost in thought trying to figure out if that is her real name or a stage name. Luckily I left the remainder of my twenty on the bar.

Out of the corner of my mind I hear the song wrapping up. I scramble back to the stage as the girl is collecting her tips and clothes. I try to find the same seat I was in and get settled before Candy comes out, I try to act as though I was calm and collected. I don't think I did a very good job.

Then she comes out. Even more gorgeous then when she left last. She was wearing this blue mini skirt combo thing, the blue perfectly complimented her eyes and tanned slightly olive tinted skin. I stare up at her the way Neolithic man stared at the first eclipse, I watch her the way the childen watched the Virgin Mary in Fatima. This is the closes thing to a religous experience I have every had.

Through the haze of bliss I fumble out a bill. I reach up to han it to her and she pushes her knee toward my facing, arching her heel, and nodding toward a garter belt. I freeze. Blank. Don't know what to do.

I am twelve years old again, reaching a fumbling hand out toward Sara Fallenigans breast again, feeling like I should know what to do but can't for the life of me come up with it. She clasp my hand and guides the bill into her garter, my heart races, and, embaressingly, my mouth waters as the electricity arcs between her hands and mine. Then the added bonus of touching the smoothest most supple thigh I have ever touched. She smiles at me and sinks onto her knees infront of me. Getting down on all fours she shimmys to my ear and breathes into me "Want a private dance, go talk to Butchy." She motions toward the DJ. "My name is Candy."

In a flash she is off the stage. I am completely befuddled, I have completely lost motor control, unable to move my head, let alone my body. I wait a full song before even trying to move my body. I have to move in stages to get control of my body, so I pause for a moment at the bar with my empty glass. The bartender, being a real pro, has my glass filled up agian, and then I slowly shuffle toward the DJ booth.

"See something you like buddy?" The DJ says from behind dark glasses.
"Ca-ca-candy...?" I sputter.
"Ca-ca-candy? Yea, she can do that to a guy, can't she?" He puases, I d't know if I should reply so I just nod, "You're a smooth one man, just grab a seat at the bar, she'll come get you when she is ready."
"Oh ok, ok, ok." I couldn't stop stuttering.

I am back at the bar, my nerves are shot, and the drinks were starting to kick in. I could feel my head swirl a little as I tried to do the math on how much alcohol I had been consuming.

"To be continued"

stolen from craigslist

2008-08-28T18:29:43Z

Instructions: Please answer the questions below as directed in each section. You will be marked for grammar, spelling, cleverness, creativity and boob-size. Please keep in mind that while this is not an application for a job, your performance on this test will be a reflection of your ability to achieve certain positions once out in the real world. When the clock strikes the hour, you may begin. You have sixty minutes to complete the test.

Section One: Multiple Choice (Answer All, 5 points)

When submitting answers via email, please copy and paste the question and then your answer selection beside it.

Q1. Six months into our relationship, I go away to a tropical location with my family for a week over Christmas. This vacation was planned as a family event two years prior to meeting you. This is:
a) A great opportunity to get some things done without me around.
b) A great opportunity to attempt to sleep with my college roommate and/or my boss.
c) A sign that you are probably just a casual thing that I could toss aside at any given moment despite the fact I bought you probably the most thoughtful gift you've ever received and written you a letter for every day that I'll be gone, inciting you to 'Go on the Defensive.'
d) Occasion to have a sexy dinner at home the night before I leave, and a mini 'welcome home' party when I get back that’s guest list is just you, me, a bottle of wine and a pack of condoms.

Q2. We've talked every night for eight days (not including the dinner/opera show I took you to on Saturday night that was followed by possibly your worst performance in bed ever, or the Monday night that I came over and we spent the evening making Rachel Ray recipes and watching Heroes followed by the best oral sex I've ever given you), with conversation time averaging about an hour per night. On a Thursday night, when on a deadline, I express a need to get off the phone so I can finish some work and go to bed at a reasonable hour. You:
a) Express your feelings of devotion in three words or less, then and quickly say goodbye after confirming plans for tomorrow night are still on.
b) Say goodbye, but then immediately begin talking about something that we hadn't discussed as thoroughly as is scientifically, legally or religiously possible two nights prior.
c) Take that as a sign that I'm abandoning you, and begin to point out that because of it I have commitment issues, that you're clearly not my priority, and then cry.
d) Say goodbye, but manage to do it with such menace and venom that I stay on the phone for another three silence filled hours, broken only by fits of gentle weeping and suicide threats.

Q3. I'm throwing change at your cleavage, which is readily on display in that loose fitting tank top you wear around my place on Sundays after brunch. Do you:
a) Wing the largest of the coins at my head, with an evil glare and then refuse to speak to me for the rest of the day.
b) Encourage my behavior, and allow me to purchase Afternoon Delights from you at discount prices.
c) Cry.
d) Cry and pick a fight with me, taking my actions as a total lack of respect for you and then begin to point out that because of it I have commitment issues, that you're clearly not my priority, and then cry some more.

Q4. We're having a fight. You:
a) Throw me out of your apartment, then thirty minutes later send 17 texts and attempt to call 13 times in the space of six minutes.
b) Give me space when the discussion gets too heated for rational thought, and redress your complaints in a calm manner when we've both had a chance to cool down.
c) Flip me the bird.
d) Wail on my junk.
e) both c and d
f) realize that the fight is about nothing, and begin creating fictional problems and make wild accusations about my obsession with material goods and having a wandering eye.
g) f, then d, then c.

Q5. I play [video games OR tabletop gaming OR fantasy football]. You:
a) Want to join in, because it looks like hella fun.
b) Leave me to it, in the hopes that I'll leave you a few things to participate in on your own.
c) Attempt to get me to quit, and use tactics like nagging, vandalism and emotional sabotage as an effective campaign against what you call my 'nerdy addiction.'
d) c, but also include deriding me to your friends.

Section Two: True or False (Answer All, 10 points)

When submitting answers via email, please copy and paste the question and then your answer selection beside it.

Q1. Rationale and Reason are the same thing.

Q2. A cheerleader AND/OR schoolgirl outfit is a wardrobe must.

Q3. Talking in your 'cute voice' just before you put my balls in my mouth is sexy.

Q4. Learning body language and communication cues is important.

Q5. 'Anchorman' and 'Superbad' are hilarious movies.

Q6. "But it's cute when I do it" should be a legally viable defense.

Q7. Chest hair is gross.

Q8. Bono is probably the most important political figure of our generation.

Q9. Sex is an important part of a relationship, and should be had frequently, often, whenever possible - within moderation, of course.

Q10. A relationship is metaphorically a two way street. So is your butt.

Section Three: Short Essay. (Answer ONE, 5 points)

Please select one of the following questions and answer it as fully as time will allow. Please try and be as descriptive as possible, and where applicable, come up with at least TWO convincing arguments to support your case. Arguments must be backed up with cited evidence, not anecdotal perspective.

Q1. If I was a crime-fighting vigilante by night, what efforts would you make to support my cause about the rising threat of evil in this city?

Q2. Please come up with a convincing game-plan for having me come shopping with you, keeping in mind my retail oriented attention span is about twelve minutes, and I am prone to wandering after flashing lights and shiny things.

Q3. Please argue why you are (do) or are not (do not): 'Down to Earth', 'Have a sense of humor' and 'Laid back'. Bonus if you can include evidence to confirm that you truly do avoid 'head games.'

Please submit answers via the email link provided. Please also keep a copy of this test and your answers to submit to future suitors for reference. Remember to ensure your name, number and bra size are clearly written at the top of your paper, and don't forget to attach a photo (3/4 length or full).