From Hiatus To Hilarious: Oh! The Stupidity!!!

word junkies: idiots are making the news and it irritates me...allow me to explain...

i have become fed up with this Occupy Wall Street (OWS) movement in the same manner that Jim Jones becam fed up with sanity and fear of getting caught being a fucking wack-job. not a day goes by without some mention of the movement that is taking the world by storm and headed for a huge change in the economic system that we have all come to know and loathe.

NEWS FLASH: nothing is going to change and i have all the answers as to why.

if you have a Facebook account, which i'm ABSOLUTELY sure most of you do, there are countless posts, streams, pictures, videos and mentions of the OWS bullshit that is going on everywhere. LITERALLY EVERYWHERE! it all started in the americas and has spread around the world, like a bad case of the high school herpes. this shit has gone atomic in the way that it has spread.

here is my beef with the whole ordeal and it's supporters:

#1. you can not erradicate corruption no matter how hard you try. unless you implode the planet, killing every last motherfucking person, corrption will find a way to thrive. corruption is like a cockroach queen: not always popping out a million eggs, but that bitch is lurking in the shadows.

#2. you can not expect to take down a system that you have never been without. raise your hand if you've lived in a world that hasn't been in some shape, form or fashion, integrated into the system that is Wall Street. trick question: none of you has lived as such and you wouldn't know how to do it. you are bound to technology and the economy, just like everyone else and if you try to go cold turkey, i can assure you, you will be a statistic in a murder/suicide in the very near future. call my fucking bluff, i dare you.

#3. if you are "occupying" at the moment and you have Facebook'ed, Tweeted, Blogged or made any use of any social networking or internet tool, you have already failed in your mission to change Wall Street and you should go the fuck home ASAHP (as soon as humanly possible). you are still helping out your enemy and doing so in a big motherfucking way.

#4. given the above, (see #3.), when you update something from a mobile device or laptop, you leave a signature of the product you're using (updated from Facebook for iPhone/iPad/Android/Blackberry/etc.). that product is being displayed, advertised and promoted by YOUR VERY OWN status update, thus promoting Wall Street further and making you look like a complete dumbfuck. that product has a NYSE (New York Stock Exchange) code and is tracked by Wall Street and several other companies and used to help give more money (your money) to Wall Street, based on sheer advertisement and display numbers. you can't change a system unless you refuse to use said system.

if you have ANY name brand...

phone

laptop

wireless service

internet

clothing

food

beverage

etc.

...in or on your person while you're "occupying", all you're REALLY doing is wasting your own time ADVERTISING all the companies that are a part of Wall Street and filtering YOUR TAX DOLLARS into the same "corrupt" system that you're trying to change you are taking 1 step forward and 1 million QWERTY keyboard steps back.

you have just FAILED your own cause. how does it feel to fail so easily?

#5. if you ask each "occupier" individually, what their goal is by "occupying" Wall Street, i can almost promise you that you will NOT get a 100% accurate and collective answer that will justify the very act of "occupying" Wall Street. you say that you want to end the "economic corruption" of Wall Street and "bring about change" in the world that you live in.


well i have some seriously prophetic news for you all:

everyone who is "occupying" Wall Street is corrupt in their own way.


if you don't believe me then you have more mental issues than David Koresh, Hitler and Kim Jong Il combined.

we are all human and humans:

lie

cheat

steal

destroy

twist

coerse

coax

manipulate

and reinvent everything they get their hands on.

this is the way of our existance. we are vile, evil creatures hellbent on our own satisfaction at the expense of others'.

 

if you don't agree, then you're:

lying to yourself

twisting your own agenda

manipulating your understanding

and reinventing what it is to be HUMAN.

yes, it sucks that this is how we are as a whole, but it's better to realize it now before it's too late.

so, in closing:

this whole Occupy Wall Street (OWS) movement was a great idea on paper, just like Communism, Christianity, Commerce, The Honor System and Trust.

sadly, all of the above are subject to human:

greed

corruption

manipulation

and reinvention

 

everything you know is already ruined before it begins and it always will be...until the Mayans come back in their spaceships and blow this motherfucking planet apart next year...after which it won't even matter because nothing will around to contradict, except maybe corruption.

 

so stop "occupying" Wall Street and start "occupying" your own brain-cells. think about how you can survive without Wall Street, THEN stop investing in anything and anyone who is a part of it. without the funding that we, the tax payers and expert bail-out team, have been shoveling into it's open mouth, Wall Street will starve to death in a quick and violent way. then we can all "occupy" the rotting carcass and piss in Wall Street's skull...

...just because it would be fun to give Wall Street a golden shower. it's part gold and part shower. that is a win win situation...

 

until next time word junkies...occupy sense and start weening off the tech shit, or we'll never be free of the economy and it's gaping anus controllers.

Occupying My Motherfucking Self Since 1985,

Dax.

Tears For Corrin: Part 3: Slivers Of Sunshine

without fail, it will happen again, just as it has every year. Corrin is growing older with me but trapped in the body of a child, she grows older in intellect and knowledge, also, she grows more bitter and jealous of this world that she can only minutely participate in. every time i see her bored expression it sends chills down my spine, i can feel her breaking down and becoming less enthralled with being merely a glimmer in the corner of one's eye.

Corrin haunts the soil steps behind me, following her strongest connection to what she once was and never will be again. misery has set in on her like a plague and i feel it spreading into me and out into the world.

i have become a conduit for her emotional outbursts of rage and disgust, loneliness and longing, her every emotion that she can no longer show on her own.



autumn has settled into the view of the world and that fated day comes closer, and with it, my annual test of her boiling point. "when is this day going to be over?! shouldn't i have been long gone by now?! see, there is no fucking God, i'm all the proof anyone could ever fucking need!" we were once friends and she was amazingly excited about life, as it seemed. now, she is the eternal child who longs for adulthood without ever getting to see it from her own point of view. she watches and scoffs at everything and everyone. spiteful comments spew out of her mouth from every direction: "for the love of fucking Christ, is he seriously taking this long to ring up your shit? does he have Polio?!"


i muster a laugh when she curses the world, with her tiny voice, using profanity and obscenity like a seasoned professional. she comes and goes as she pleases, hidden from my ears and eyes when she's upset with the fact that i'm laughing at her, not with her. mind you, she only still looks like a child, she has aged mentally and emotionally and has no problem letting me know it. "i'm just as capable of explaining these things to you as you are to me. i'm not a goddamn child anymore, so stop laughing you fucking prick!" the more i think about how right she is, the more hilarious it becomes: she is indeed just as capable, for a dead girl.


it wasn't that long ago that i tried, to no avail, to seek her out in her own plane of existence. she stayed in the shadows, or abyss, or whatever it is and would only speak to me as if she were some infinite source of knowledge. she told me, "you should've seen your face, it was priceless! seriously though, what were you thinking?!" she pulled a prank on me in that place beyond this world and i fell for it full force. i sunk into a sense of failure and she, the eternal doll, jumped around and laughed about it for days, often with an out stretched finger pointed at me with a look of mock terror. Corrin is the devil's advocate, i'm almost 100% sure of it after that.


this year will be the 15th time that i will have to endure that wreckage, engulfed in flames, and see how she spent her final minutes in pure agony. i asked her last year if it was "under her control" or if it was just "something that happens" against both our wishes. she stared at me like i was asking her if the sky was blue. "well, i can tell you i didn't exactly get a handbook or an instruction manual. i sure as hell didn't get an orientation. this isn't beetlejuice."


the years have come and gone, she has not. this year, like all the others, she took me by my shivering hand and walked me to what is now "our" demise. the slow, agony that we now share for what i'm sure will be an eternity. Corrin's serrated smile lurks behind me, ahead of me and over me. she is the eternal child, with the mind of a woman, who longs for life even though the one she had was painful and worth ending, or so it would seem to me. the nights grow longer and the shadows and shades extend their arms out toward me, reminding me, that Corrin is there ready to pop into my life and riddle me with tired laughter, the spewing of new found atrocities of speech and her eyes that have grown so old yet still look so young and vibrant.



slivers of sunshine tip-toe through the mist of her skin, the darkness now haunting her eyes like she haunts me. Corrin watches, waits, converses and astounds me. even to this day.

Subtle Shades And Overtones

flourescent, geometric clouds hung low over our heads inside the constricting cell that we devoured within. somewhere, just outside of my sight, i could hear the daily banter of numerous voices singing songs and babbling mad tales of the dangers of teen angst bullshit. oh how the weak fall prey to their own linguistic trappings, their vernacular atrocities, poised like pit vipers ready to strike and suffocate them if only to end the starving feeling from inside.

those tiny hands spread out from across the table, decorated in ink blotches, sweat and lust. i could've died right there, staring into her devious eyes, wanting her skin on my skin.

i had to shake it off, at all cost.


the days progressed in a slow, sickening manner that worked like cancer on the soul. we ran into each other often, sizing each other up and then parting ways, it was our dance that we would never start or finish. the voice came from over my shoulder, in perfect timing with her foot steps, and soke the simple idea to me over and over again: "you must...love her..because...she needs...you to." the subtle shade of her little voice and those pitter patter of sneakers.

my heart was slowing down toward death, my mind was racing toward light speed and my blood boiled in my veins with the heat of my longing and lust for the razor winged angel that giggled and teased me with her tiny hands and devious eyes. it was grudge-fuck at first sight, with a secondary objective of needing to show this creature the bliss of being held like a delicate doll, being protected by steady hands and loved with a heavy heart.


Corrin was leading me again. she took me by the hand, showed me the devious eyes that needed to be needed and whispered again, "you must...love her...because...she needs...you to." i ignored Corrin's request and wandered off into the land of broken soil, cheerful expressions and simple desires played upon by the demons of the earth.


the overtones of despreation in my voice were lost on deaf ears and new life.

somewhere, just beyond the horizon line, i felt her crying for steady hands and a heavy heart.



Dax.

Tears For Corrin

i can say, without any doubt, that i am being haunted by a little girl i once knew.

she had eyes like lime green glow sticks and hair the same color as hand rolled cigars. there wasn't anything really extraordinary about her except that fact that she was funny and she liked being my friend. we spent hours together playing in her yard, coloring in coloring-books, watching cartoons and talking about childhood nothings that seem so trivial by today's standards.

her name was Corrin and she was my first crush.

it was after she died that i found out how disturbed and emotionally troubled she was. maybe that is what drew me to her: the mental defects that sprayed out into the world in the form of hyperactivity and surrealistic chatter. her imagination was clearly what she saw all the time, a world she created and controlled, despite the numerous medications she was fed on a daily basis.

sometime, just after fall had taken the world in its hands, Corrin decided that she was done with the standardized dosage of her medications and she wanted to know what exactly would happen if she went overboard with her four course spread of pills.

Novemeber 14th, 1996 was the start date of her "new routine" of pill consumption, it would also be the last day she would see the sun rise and fall, much the same way we all see it today.

she gorged herself on anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, diabetes medication and blood thinners. shortly after he dad came home he discovered her on the floor of the kitchen puking blood and crying for someone to kill her. due to shock, or incredible fear, her dad skipped on calling the paramedics and gathered her up in his arms and rushed her to the car and headed for the nearest hospital.

along the highway, speeding toward the emergency room, he lost control of the car and hit a guardrail, sending the car into a slide that ended with a set of large trees. he was appearantly killed instantly while Corrin was left with several broken bones but still alive and suffering.

she sat in that wrecked car, strapped tightly into the front passenger seat, wishing for a quick end to her torment and pain. it would not come to her, instead the smoke started to pour out from under the hood of the car. the flames began to grow and lap at the sides of the hood, taking hold of it and pulling their way to the windshield. she sat in her dad's car, next to his bleeding and lifeless body, watching the flames grow brighter as they inched their way toward her.

she cried and screamed and cringed, but nothing would stop the assault of fire that was now consuming her body, cooking her alive inside her steel roadside tomb. when the fire crews got there she was already gone, they had to identify her by her dental records, although i'm sure no one had a doubt in their mind that the small, charred body was her's and her's alone.

the only reason i know all of this is because two years later, as i began the decent into my teenage years, she came to me in a nightmare that i will never forget, no matter how hard i try. she whispered my name and woke me from my bed, which was positioned just behind the wreckage of her dad's car. she took my hand and walked me to the rear passenger door which was wide open. she asked me to sit in the back seat, so i did, and she opened the front passenger door and sat down. she leaned her head back to her right side and spoke these words to me:

"paul, i hope you're ready to see fireworks. the show is about to begin so buckle up."

that's when the flames rose from under the hood of the car and started their climb toward the inside of the car that we now sat in. i tried so hard to open that door and get away from the horrible stench of cooking human flesh, but that door wouldn't budge a fraction of an inch. i started to scream for help, just as she had all that time ago, but no sound came out of my throat. my voice was useless in that horrid nightmare. i looked out of the car window where i was sitting and i could see Corrin standing on the highway smiling at the car as it was engulfed by the living lights of the fire.

thats when i woke up, in a cold sweat, and she was standing at the foot of my bed just staring at me with the same smile she had just a few seconds ago. she told me that she is bound to the wreckage and to the road and to me, because as it turns out, i was the only kid who wasn't freaked out by her over active imagination and her hyperactivity.

i was her only friend before she was eaten alive by fire, alone, on the side of the road.

so now i am haunted by Corrin:

my friend

my first crush

my eternal shadowy companion

my tormented ghost child

i carry around a small amount of her personality and mannerisms. somehow, as a way of coming back to play, she has attached herself to me in strange ways that i can not yet begin to explain or understand. so, to this day, i can still feel her walking around with me and beckoning me to watch cartoons with her, color in coloring-books with her, play outside in the yard with her and talk about childhood nothings with her.

Corrin is haunting me and i wouldn't have it any other way.

Dax.

Blind Date Of Nautical Bliss

"Blind Date Of Nautical Bliss"

those violet color contacts always had a strange way of making my mouth dry and my lips quiver. her eyelids would drop suddenly, like a broadway curtain signaling the end of her performance, while desperately coaxing applause from me, her shocked audience. in tiny moments like that i felt almost alive, like hope was just around the corner and we could chase it down hand in hand.

in those days of quasi-bliss the sun seemed to shine a thousand times brighter, giving me migraines that were well worth weathering just for a single hour of gazing upon the siberian skin that shrouded her insides. a simple pleasure of being near was tested by the thorns of enviromental stimuli from every direction. what can i say, i've always been a little sadistic to myself when it came to affairs of the heart, especially when she was involved.

our hearts sailed the vast seas of dysfunction in search of medicated shores. when those shores were reached, landed upon and claimed by our egos, we were bathed in tones of calm, chalky comfort. we spent days frolicking amongst the numb feeling of dead nerves, auditory and visual hallucinations, and eventually the come down we wished wouldn't catch up to us again. it was when the shores ran red with emotion that the waves of our seas would become a peril worse than the fate of desolation, or even death.

as the salted spray of tidal waves crashed down around us, her driven snow skin would peel down to the sands she stood upon. she began to change into a sort of beast, the kind that was always talked about as being hellbent on the destruction of the world. those violet contacts would soak up her blood and become crimson orbs filled to their brims with unadulterated hatred and loathing. her muscles, now threadbare, turned a shade of black darker than the starless skies. this was her inner demon. as always, me being the first mate, i was left to fight off the beast bare handed. having been in only a handful of battles with this side of her siberian flesh i knew, all too well, the dangers she would be setting loose upon me.

her words became as sharp as assassins' daggers and were held by her serpent tongue, poised for an attack on the nearest body to her's. i charged toward her, not for battle but to gather up her skin. she screamed at me in a voice constructed out of obscenities and lies, spewing the tar of her lungs and the acid of her stomach. i had to make for the sea with her skin bundled up in my now sweating arms, it was my only hope for saving us both. my rubbery legs made a mad dash for the waves that sought out our bones, the same waves that brough us to this poorly supplied island of medication.

just behind me her demon was giving chase, at a sickening pace, with it's eyes boring a hole into me looking for my weakness, hungry for ammunition to use in it's assault of my heart and mind. the demon breath was filling my lungs like oil, thick and torturous oil. my feet carried me with her skin as quickly as possible to those salt waves of salvation, making enough haste to turn sand into glass. thats when it happened: the calming cool of the seas swallowed me up and drug me down into the abyss.

darkness surrounded me. cool, sweet, peaceful darkness was all around me like embryotic fluid. in those first few seconds my eyes scanned for the nearest part of the sea floor, hunting for the left overs of that calm comfort that would shake her demon free from the world above and seal it back up inside of her. to see it surrended to her skin was always a sour victory, but it was a victory none the less. with her skin bundled up in one arm, i used the other to swim closer to the bottom, closer to her temporary cure from the serrated speech of her inner demon.

we sank together to the ocean floor and i spread out her skin on the sand and corral. those empty eye holes lay staring up at me with a haunting expression i can only define as sorrowful. my hands began sifting through the sand and silt, at the bottom of the sea floor, until i pulled up two heart sized clams. i pressed them, one by one, to my lips and gave them a simple kiss in order to open them. without fail the clams awoke from sleep and offered up a pearl, the saving grace of the seas, that would tame the beast above and restore the snow skinned girl below.

i pressed the pearls into the sorrowful eye holes of her discarded skin, leaned down to the skin of her face and placed a small kiss on her lifeless lips. those pearls began to rotate and glow an amazing tone of azure, glowing brighter the faster the pearls spun. her skin slowly sealed itself back into the form of her siberian flesh, becoming whole again and full of life. it was then that i swam back to the surface with her, hand in hand. as our heads broke above the water we saw that the sea was again calm, almost beckoning us further out.

together we walked out of the sea, on to the beach and sat down on the sand, still hand in hand. the beast had been drawn back into her heart with the pearls, the saving graces of the seas, and sealing it up for now. she turned her head to me and spoke these words, "don't you hate it when that happens? sometimes i'm just not myself, thanks for being patient with me." i stared at the sea for a moment more before answering her. "i don't hate it, i just don't like it. we should go now sweetheart, this place has nothing more to offer you."

we stood, facing the sea, and headed for the boat. i asked what direction was next to be sailed, she chose west, so now we sail west in search of more medicated shores and tones of calm, chalky comfort.

when you sail the seas of dysfunction, where do you end up and which direction do you sail?

Dax.

Surprise!

...junkies...?

i have a pair of questions that have been itching the back of my brain case for a little while now and i would like to propose them to you all and see what your feed-back is on the matter. let me set this one up for you...

i have...shall we say..."indecent" photography of a person, who has been featured here once before. now, these files have been hidden away and stored safely for whatever reason i had at the time. also keep in mind that the person in these "indecent" photographs is:

#1. a legal adult (age 18 +)

#2. willingly sent these photo's without payment of ANY kind

#3. probably not reading this

in the grand scheme of being bored out of my insanity, i decided to clean up around the computing station and re-discovered the "naughty bits" that were sealed in the vault.

here are my questions:

#1. would it be viable to sell these photographs, to one of those web-sites that buys pictures and videos of ex-girlfriends, for some quick cash and to simply get them off my own hands?

#2. do i have to pay royalties, a percentage or any other legal fee to the person in aforementioned pictures if they happen to be prowling the net for "diddle bits" and they see their own semi-nude body, for sale, in JPEG format?

i know: fucking random.

(that's just how i roll for the most part)

so, feel free to comment and i will be sure to lend you my least deaf ear.

enjoi that word junkies, enjoi.

Will Blackmail Your Ex's For Money,

Dax.

Ahh, Autumn: The Season of Brew-tality

wordius junki-us, welcome back to the slums of literacy.

this is the time of year that just "does it" for me.

(wow, i wasn't aware of the magnitude of your seasonal sexuality, but continue)

yes indeed, autumn is THAT season for me. the cooling air, the dying trees skeeting their dead leaves onto the streets and yards, pumpkin spice candles and latte's, the subtle reminder that christians can steal anything and trademark it to be "less heathenly". oh, the simple joys of autumn.

with all of that spiffy and delightful ridiculousness comes the bitter cold of winter just around the corner. it's a sick, sad twist to the whole fall thing, but fuck it: nothing is forever these days. also, there are several things i long for, or things that i think should happen, before the year comes to an end and the Mayans return: pissed off like a motherfucker and looking for vengence.

A Few Favorite, Random and Rude Things:

#1. i would like to see a giant s'more materialize, lure in heavy-set gluttons from all walks of life and make a final stand against all those ignorant bastards who know they have diabetes, yet refuse to be proactive because "there aren't any definate signs presenting themselves". the sugary goodness of fate, amputating your limbs, is another sign of the Apocolypse to come.

#2. a certain somone, without whom none of this would be nearly as funny, should be awoken by the lights of dawn peeking in past the mini-blinds only to discover the floors drenched in piss and blood. the amonia stench and crimson squishery of the carpets will prolong the secondary discovery of numerous, miniature decapitated jesus' clawing their way out of her uterus and climbing down her legs, all the while screaming out of their bleedy neck stumps:
"we represent the lollipop guild, the lollipop guild, the lollipop guild".

(a million lords a'screamin', a vag thats steady bleedin', 5! more heavy flow days!)

#3. a herd (yes, a herd) of barely legal, midget porn-stars: riding miniture clydesdales (2 bodies per pony) into a large church while proclaiming that they are INDEED the "Four Horsemen of The Apocolypse" and demand to see the most powerful wizard in OZ, (i.e.: Jesus), so that they can sit down and have Young Republican styled talks about the "outcome of souls now that there are BOTH a geo-political and economic crisis" currently wrecking the world....like a fat dick in a tight pussy.

#4. a 12 pack of "Sam Adams: Oktoberfest" in my possession ASAP.

(this one is more likely to happen than all the rest, so someone, make this happen)

#5. less halloween costumes made for children that are clearly geared toward adults. add to that, less costumes made for adults that are clearly made from the same amount of material that the childrens' costumes are made of.

(you're not supposed to taunt the rapists, it makes them MORE violent)

#6. the masses begin to understand the difference between "the belief in god" and "the belief in the belief in god". it makes sense if you're willing to understand the concept and come to grips with it. otherwise, you're going to continue to plague yourself with useless bullshit that:

has not

is not

and will not

come to fruition, no matter how fucking delusional you are. no amount of paxil, prozac or xanax will make your unicorn speckled, daydream dogma a reality.

that is my little list of "Yes, Please's!" that i psychoticly look forward to every year, around this time, in the wonderful land of Autumn. enjoi the evening word junkies.

Fall-ing For The Winter of Your Eyes,

Dax.

Friendships: How To Avoid Or Ruin Them

word junkies, my empty buddy-list.

my empty buddy-list, word junkies.

now that we've all met each other and exchanged less than enthusiastic glances, i can most certainly begin to word vomit into your gaping anus-like ear holes.

it takes a special kind of person to avoid and/or ruin friendships and the possiblities of such things to arise. it just so happens that my certificate of authenticity is currently being shipped to me via UPS-Ground. yes, i google'd it and applied for a "Friendship Avoidance Mastery" certificate.

(yes, google'd it. have your credentials ready)

to say i'm "thrilled" is a vast understatement.

yes indeed, it does take a special kind of person, or persons, to avoid friendship building. those same people also have the almost comic-book super-human ability to ruin their friendships for whatever reason they see fit. i'm not going to say i'm the GRAND MASTER, considering it's a five way tie between: Adolf Hitler, AIDS, Osama Bin Laden, Sarah Palin & Cancer.

"well, what kind of credentials do you think make you worthy of such a title as "Friendship Avoidance Master"? i ask you, faceless blogger of crude humor and offensive language, how worthy are you?"

oh, you polite little pussy fart, i'm so happy you asked such a loaded Young Republican styled question.

the things that make me worthy of such a title are varied and spread out over a long period of time. some of this was as a child but most of it i like to refer to as "High School...And Just After". i can name a few if you'd prefer.

"Friendship Avoidance Master" Credentials:

#1. i suffocated and absorbed my twin while in utero and stole all of his potential.
just like highlander, there can be only one.

#2. i fell out of a tree at age 10 and died. i pissed off everyone and everything on the other side and was "escorted" back into my still waiting, lifeless child body.

#3. lost my virginity to a wonderful young girl. after the whole awkward ordeal was over i told her:
"i really should've re-thought this whole 'choosing you' thing. too late now i guess."

#4. poked fun at, hazed, verbally abused, imasculated, defeminized and psychologically traumatized countless people just because i knew i could and that it would be fun for me.

...and to ME, the crowning moment.
(i caused this to happen, in public, behind a club in down-town RVA)

#5. used the tactics of "#4" to push a zen buddhist to the point where he, completely and honestly, wanted to resort to violence and physically "tee-off" with me.

yes my word junkies, new and old, i have earned all the scorn and disgust that comes along with my title and certificate. it took years of not giving enough of a fuck to impregnate a micro-organism. sure, i could've pasted on my smile to be genuinely nice, happy and down-right cheery, however, my smile better served me by being a facade, to lull people into a false sense of security, so that i could take them apart piece by piece.

sure, i have a few friends. thats the ideal part of it all. few friends.

the less people you have as friends the better. you will know these friends and how they are less likely to cave under some diluted sense of commradery. these are people you should want to have around when you end up on Intervention, the realest people who will spill it out to you and give zero ground because they REALLY ARE friends.

i have few friends because of a few good reasons:

#1. most people don't like blatant honest. the kind of honesty saved for children with a half melted face.

#2. generally, i have no problem turning your problems into YOUR problems. don't be an adult who cries for help on everything, all the time. you will regret it, i promise you that.

#3. most people get fed up and go off the deep end. that is super for me: i now know you're weak and i don't need that kind of friend. a strong friend will laugh in your face and walk away because they ahve better things to do, and you both know it.

#4. i hate clingy people who want to be around all the time. my friends don't do that because they know about "boundries" and "personal space". clingy people don't good friends for this reason.

so, there you have it.

a bunch of random slop about friendship and the "do's and don'ts".

after all, who else wants to be "that guy" who pushed a zen buddhist toward violence? it's a pretty heavy weight to carry around (yeah right) and no one else should have to know that kind of burden (bullshit).

enjoi your REAL friends

...and...

start alienating those who are NOT.

Friend Requesting Jack Schitt,

Dax.

Neuro-Gasm OR Mind Fuck...You Decide

word junkies, welcome home...kind of...fuck it, make yourself at home.

generally speaking, i am not a politically motivated person. politics are full of politicians and i hate politicians because TECHNICALLY hitler was one.

yes, i am the un-ending, non-advocate of: facism, tiny upper-lip wear, beige uniforms & nazi's. germany is spiffy, just not the times when it was seriously hurting for some jobs and thus mind fucked by an overly emotional, one-nutted, charismatic douche-bag with poor artistic sensibilities.

fuck nazi's, fuck facism, fuck politicians.

you're probably thinking:

"yes, thank you for joining everyone else with a healthy scalp on that issue, but where are you REALLY going with this little spewage?"

as i said, i am not a politically motivated person generally speaking, but i was watching a documentary about the death penalty and the views from both sides. i can say it eye-opening and irritating in so many motherfucking ways that i am glad i do not own a gun or guns.

let me play it out to you:

some people view the death penalty to be "inhumane" and "barbaric" in nature. these people are also, ALMOST ALWAYS, the good christian types that hold up signs that read "God Hates Fags" or "Gays Are A Disease". these are the people i love to hate. LOVE TO HATE i say! i truly think that there is a "base minimum of hate" that has to be in play, in the chess game of life, in order for things to progress forward. i truly think that without the "base minimum of hate" the world would become absolutely fucking boring and we would all "Jonestown it" that fuck out of here.

killing the world, with the jonestown kool-aid of stalemate, is high school geometry boring.

so, the "base minimum of hate" came out in this politcal debate over the "inhumane" and or "barbaric" use of the death penalty in america. it's a laughable notion to think, that if you got served with the death penalty, it is an "inhumane" sentence. i will explain it as a senario for you and ASK you, not DEMAND you, to form your own conclusion and opinion.

Senario:

a young girl, still able to recount the horrible attack, is raped and left for dead. she manages, BY HER OWN GRACES AND WILL, to get help and is rushed to the emergency room where she gives her statement and is given care.

the rapist is caught and arrested for his crime. the attacker is tried, found guilty and sentenced...but not to death. the young girl is only relieved that he can't do it to anyone else. that is her ONLY justice.

the young girl...

goes through years of therapy

has to take medication daily for anxiety

is tested every six months for long term sexual diseases

goes into rehabilitation for abuse of medication as well as other drugs and alcohol

finally recovers

gets a steady job and works to supress the past

she pays her taxes which then supports the rapist who is in prison for life

well, do you get it?

do you see what "inhumane" is yet?

even after the physical, emotional and psychological trauma that this girl endures into her adulthood, she is still stuck giving more to her attacker than everyone originally thought:

mind, body, psyche, monetary.

now, the people who are against the death penalty are going on some "you can't play God" trip and stating that it "isn't society's place" to take the life of another person, no matter what they did as a crime. really, really?! to rape someone and leave them for dead is taking a life in a more serious way. they have to LIVE WITH IT until they die...eventually. until they take their last breath it will HAUNT them in their days and nights; dreams and nightmares. the life taken wasn't physical but metaphysical, the plane FAITH is SUPPOSED to exist on.

even people who got the death penalty know what justice REALLY is. hell, the rapist and pedophiles get their own "special yard" to play in, due to the fact that even the worst murderers have children...and they have people put down anywhere - anytime.

especially the pedo's...they get the worst treatment...and rightfully so.

my view on the death penalty is this:

if the death penalty is offered as a form of punishment for a guilty party, by the judge or jury, bypass the bullshit and put a fucking $0.07 round in their head.

save me and the victims of their crimes some tax dollars.

it takes months, years, DECADES for someone on death row to actually GET DEATH. that is time wasted and tax dollars sucked up by criminals who can't even give a little something back to the society and people they have runined. at least the crack dealers on the street are able to actively stimulate the economy by buying baking soda and vodka, which is used to boost value of the product they are selling. this then affords them MORE money than the average drug dealer to spend on goods that fuel the economy, like baking soda and vodka. it is a cycle i can go with.

the people in prisons, WAITING IT OUT, after a death penalty is handed down are why people want the motherfuck out of a swift death penalty and protest against "life behind bars".

the life long prison fucks get:

three meals a day

a central air concrete condo

a security system

a maintained exercise yard that borders on obscene

they don't pay for all that shit while they wait for the death penalty, or do life, because it was too "barbaric" to take a CRIMINAL'S life.

so again, your thoughts are your own and i really don't need (or fucking want) your side of things. i just wanted to put it into an outside view for all of those people who associate the death penalty with "middle-manning the almighty lord" in his conquest for souls (which those should be insta-hellbound) and the better choices of mankind.

oh, did anyone else know that people didn't think twice about a death penalty in the bible?

a "stoning" isn't a bunch of disciples smoking pot while jesus is in charge of flint-ing the bong.

it's a death penalty: involving no needles, chemicals or electricity but hurts like a motherfucker, considering a crowd of people is killing you slowly over minutes/hours by pelting you with various sized rocks until your skull breaks or you bleed out.

that is "barbaric" but i can respect that because it shows criminals that some people take doing the right thing seriously, and if you don't, you're going to pay the fucking price.

hope you word junkies out there enjoi'd that semi-political mass of "what the fuck brought that up?"

Deliberating On Your Sentence...With Pie,

Dax.

From Hiatus To Hilarious: Ultimate Blu-Ray Redux Edition

hello again word junkies.

yes, i know i asked for your readership and then fucked off for almost a full month. yes, i should be pouring out a great apology and such...but i won't...shit happens, especially in pants.

okay then.

for the past month i've been lazily procrastinating about and doing things other than blogging and whatnot.

obviousness made clear, i know.

in those days i did manage to do some cleaning up about the dwelling and found a treasure trove of crazy shit, the kind of stuff that made my jaw drop and cause me to exclaim, "holy fuck biscuits, i totally forgot about this!!" in this pirate-esque, sunken treasure chest of goodies were several thigns that got my writing sense about about me as well as filled my blackened heart with joy. some of the goodies include:

the Misfits box-set

(4 Cd's of horro-punk goodness, complete with 2 pins: Fiend Club & Lime Green Logo)

the Cannibal Corpse: 15 Year Killing Spree box-set

(also, 4 Cd's of death metal goodness, complete with "Unleashing The Bloodthirsty" comic book)

a Slipknot notebook, given to me by a high school friend (Tabitha) with a bright green note card taped to the inside that told me the notebook in question was to keep me grounded while letting my writing voice explore the world.

...and the most fucked up, yet pleasingly funny goodie...

a Journeys bag full of high school love notes and letters

(i don't even think i need an explanation for this one...a grab bag of "what the fuck?!")

so, i'm going to be outlining some the "Best Of..." letters and people wrote these delightful pieces of high school literary bliss. first, let me kind of explain a little of what may have made these letters and notes possible.

it is still unclear to me why i attracted, for the most part, high-school damaged goods. yes, i said it, damaged goods. i mean that in the best possible way, truly the nicest way. i know that a vast majority of the girls/women in american have daddy issues, but did i have to be the magnet for them 98% of the time?! i mean, seriously, what made me the "self-doubting, over-active vaginal opening, daddy issue chick" magnet?


in those days i was much nicer than i am now, as now i am about as nice as flesh eating bacteria. sure, i smiled a lot and joked with almost everyone. yes, i had a chipper demeanor and the ability to cheerfully light up a room with positive randomness and witty commentary. taking all of that into account, was it really enough to be the driving force behind my high school lust/love affairs being centered around the same girls, who grew up into women, that invest more into psychological pharmaceuticals than our entire nation invests into the "No Child Left Behind" initiative?


was my being "nice", "adorable", "funny" and "a sweetheart" enough of a reason why every nutjob with a vagina wanted to be my "girlfriend" or "hook-up" with me?


ah yes, now you can see why i am now the resident asshole on duty: 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.


now, let me outline a few of these "love seekers" and some of their written commentary.


Megan:

this one in particular, after investigating her notes, was destined to be pushed away by me for a very obvious reason: she talked too much about sex.

(wait, hold on: did a guy just say a female talked too much about sex?! come again sir?)

yes indeed. i'm all for having a full fledge relationship and involving sex in that relationship but i can't stand when the sex talking starts not even a full month after the dating process starts. call me crazy if you must, but it's not the first thign that comes to mind...my overall sanity and the length of the relationship are the top topics for me. sure, she was a delightful and bubbly young lady with a great smile, sparkling eyes and a nice rack. she was also an artist and intelligent as well. she had everything going for her until every not she passed me was dripping with vaginal urgency. here are some IN CONTEXT quotes from her letters:


December 4th
"God, I don't want you to think I'm a hornball or anything, but I'm so very, very, very, very sexually frustrated right now. I take it you can sense that. It's very obvious. So in the mornings from now on, we must do something. I can't take it anymore. We're gonna hafta ditch Matt just one time so i can impregnate you."
"I need some action so bad. I hope you have enough will power to go w/o ass for awhile. I made myself a moral promise to wait w/ you. I just hope I have enough will power. I'm at such a vulnerable state, so be good!"

December 5th
"I'm sittin' here in study hall talkin' to Petra a/b good fuckin' places around here. I'm not worried a/b sex so much, but I would like to fool around w/ you. I need something to release all this tension I have built up in my loins. I'll die if you don't do something to me. You wouldn't believe my fantasies I have before i go to sleep. I'm probably not gonna shuttup a/b this 'til you gimme some."

Date Unknown
"I haven't had sex in 8 months! I'd creme my pants if someone touched me! My insides are screamin' for dick! In other words, I need a screw."


for only 3 notes, thats a whole lot of talking about sex. i hate hearing the same song more than once an hour. so to hear about the same topic over and over and over it's like being repeatedly subjected to "Every Rose Has It's Thorn" every 10 minutes. irritation at its finest.



Wynn:

she was genuinely a sweet girl. her smile was big and her eyes lit up like fireworks. her personality was great, a little twisted and super hyper, which was awesome to me. sure, she was frisky, but it became more clear how frisky she was the longer i knew her and the more notes i got from her. she had the same problem with talking about sex like it was meth. also, she was overly spewing compliments which always alerts me to danger. trying too hard, to me, is like changing your name to Timothy McVeigh.

(Danger Will Robinson, Danger!)

i wasn't slinging dick like Spider-Man, so i don't understand why it was like this with two different girls from high school. it must have been because i ran into her at the state fair one year and rode a mechanical bull while she watched. so sexy, right? i didn't think so, but she did. from that weekend on she nick-named me "Cowboy". she was a sweet girl but i wasn't about to try and fulfill her sweet-tooth, and thus, i also pushed her away.

October 15th
"Guess what babe? I want your body and why r u so sexy? U don't think you are but u really r. So stop saying your not."

October 16th
"I am soooo mad at u I want u sooo bad and thats not kewl."
"Guess what? I'm going to hurt u when I get my hands on u!"
"Man I'm going to fuck the hell out of you and thats the truth."

October 17th
"I'm going 2 hurt u n a good way."

October 19th
"I want 2 have sex with u really bad, I don't know why I just do."


that was 5 notes in 4 days and each one had some expressed urge to get into my pants. thats too much, just too damn much talk about something all in the same one week period. again, it was overkill and annoying. so sue me, i don't need to hear about it constantly.


the beauty part about this next set is who they come from. if you keep up with this blog, or you know me personally, then you know who "She Who Shall Not Be Named" really is.

"Cross Sectional Sofa" ringing a bell? anyone?

how about "the gay joke psycho bitch"?

there you go!


well, for the sake of least confusion, i'm going to name her "Lawrie" and here is her set.


Lawrie:

she had a big heart and a beaming smile, a personality that was excited and cheery. she was a thesbian and her passions included: movies, music, positive conversation and day-dreaming. the thing that bored me, and eventually woke me up about her, was her sense of reality fading into some alternate universe where she lived in a sit-com or a romantic comedy. i'm not sure, even to this day, if she was ever completely there. it was delightfully refreshing at first to see those child like expressions and to hear her speak like the world was a Wonderland, that is until i realized that she thought her delusions were indeed the reality the rest of us knew. she also was entirely too dramatic, even for an aspiring actress, not to mention, couldn't trust her own instincts or take a joke.

sad, but oh so true.


November 26th
"I think I'm dying!! *looks all pitiful* Everything is spinning and stuff."

January 30th
"So, I had some more ideas which I'm sure you caught on to. To & From school is always an option and I can always drop you off at the bus stop."
"I need some pictures of us together. I have pics of you & I individually *falls asleep* dreams about white sheets & blood & candle-light."

(i never gave her pictures of me...so how the fuck did that last part even come about?!)

Date Unknown

"Last time I saw you, we were just split in two.
You were looking at me, I was looking at you
You were strangely familiar but I could not recognize
You had blood on your face, I had blood in my eyes
But the pain in your heart was the pain down in mine
We called it love
That's the origin of love"
"Isn't that the sweetest thing you ever heard?"


as you can see, between being overly exposed to yapping about vaginal urges and some creepy spaced out hopeless romantic, i've had my fair share of "WTF?!?!" instances. it was fun to read them and see the crazy shit that should've dawned on me long, long ago.

i am a happier, more sinister, less heart-felt, perpetual asshole because of it all. i hope you enjoi'd all of those weird quotations from the "Ghosts Of Ex-Love Notes Passed".




Omg'ing Over Your High School Handwriting,



Dax. I. Rose

Non-Important Entry (Random Shit To Know)

welcome word junkies, i have randomness for you's all.

whoa, was that some shitty new yorker accent? fuck me running. no good.

wow, so i read this yahoo news story about how some reporters were being "racist" because they didn't correct his grammar.

Obama He Did-Int!!!

who the fuck cares?! really?! i'm sure it wasn't that big of a deal. i think this is where we should cross the fucking line. i thought accurate reporting and journalism was based on getting the facts RIGHT not getting the facts properly spell-checked first, then reporting them.

look, if you voted for change, great, you certainly got it in a half black president. to Obama's credit, he did indeed nail OBL (Osama Bin Laden) before his first term was up. see, white people couldn't do it in two terms and Obama did it in less than one term.

yes, voting for change is now credited with an epic win.

here's the "sitch":

if you want someone to clean up your grammar during a press conference or speech, i suggest you do it your damn self because i'm sure that thousands of press cunts would've loved to have left "Dub-ya" looking as dumb in text as he sounded in speech. having heard the speech i would have to think that maybe Obama was trying to level with black people, semi-rudely, but he was trying.

if you're going to bitch about it now, remember, you voted for him then.

that goes for EVERYONE, even the mormons, who no one really gives a fuck about anyway. if you don't like it, drink the Jonestown Kool-Aid and get super dead and as far from living with reality as possible.

Spell-Checking Your Mind,

Dax.

Now A Few Words...Or More...

word junkies, the past few days have been, to say the least, lack-luster.

(sad. true. annoyingly realistic in their lack-luster-ness.)

on the plus side i have had the time of my life, in the super silence of the days, to enjoy and pick a few of my favorite songs from a spiffy cd called "Speaker Of The Dead" by Emmure.

i was digging this cd with four shovels and figured i would pass along the prizes.

"Dogs Get Put Down"

I heard you wanted to kill me, so why am I still alive?
So come on why don't you try. They put a price on my head.
I stay bangin', I stay strapped.
I know it's hard to believe but sometime's dead is better.
I'm not afraid to die. Do me a fucking favor: take my fucking life.
I'm not afraid to die so take my fucking life.

"Solar Flare Homicide"

I see a fire in the sky. Lights go out, I'm gonna finish what I started.

And now you better pray I don't know where you are.

Do you remember just like I always do? Ive been dying to remind you.

There ain't gonna be a jail sentence. No more fucking consequence.
No there will never be another sentence. Fire in sky. This is freedom.

I see fire in the sky. Now you'll suffer.

"4 Poisons 3 Words"

Now I'm walking away. I don't need this, I don't need you.
I have no interest to please or appease you.
I'm done wasting my fucking life on cowards wasting my fucking time.
And if I'm alone in this fight, then I'm walking away tonight.
Get fucked.
I'm standing on my own two feet. I don't need you, I don't need this.
I'm ready to die for my beliefs, I'm ready to kill for my beliefs
Are you with me in this fight? If not I'm walking away tonight.


 

"My Name Is Thanos"

You don't fucking know me and you never will.
I'm not from this world, I didn't ask to be here.
Look down at me you'll see a fool.
Look up at me you'll see your God.
Look straight at me and you'll see yourself.

i'm not saying you should live your life by lyrics, but sometimes, the music fits the moments.

...also...

if you think you know something, just remember, you don't know it all all of the time.

ask the questions, dig in the dirt and never be afraid to be looked at like filth.

Studying Your Moves,

Dax.

Rubber Ducky (Easter Ex Hunting)

alas no, my dear word junkies, there is no actual rubber ducky. i apologize for the tom-foolery and false advertisement. if you would like i can show you a picture of a rubber ducky.

yeah?

okay...one rubber ducky picture...

...whoa, that little shit is doing a backflip...

back to the blog.

we have all had a "bored spell" overtake us without notice, leaving us searching the internet like zombies in search of digital brain noms. yes, digital....brain....noms, i used the kawaii as fuck terminology. it's all that asian food/anime/japan-love finally seeping out of my blackened soul. ah yes, the "bored spell" sneaks into your skull and you begin using the internet to look for random shit:

#1. fucked up band names

(tony danza tapdance extravaganza, we butter the bread with butter, anal cunt, DVDA etc.)

#2. ridiculous pictures

(the Domo "everytime you masturbate god kills a kitten" one)

#3. dead baby jokes

(Q: what's worse than a dead baby in a trash can? A: a dead baby in seven trash cans.)

#4. tim and eric

(awesome show. great job.)

if you've done all of that, try this:

#5. easter ex hunt

(hunt for the super-win changed or epic failed)

now i know that i slice people down like crazy, it is my niche. we're not all vocabulary sluts, so let me define the context of "niche" that i was using:

Niche (n./adj./v.): the position or function of an organism in a community of plants and animals.

yes, we are humans and animals, sometimes plants. you'll get it in a second.

so even if slicing people down is my niche, i will gladly point out someone who has bettered themselves instead of turning their house into a meth lab, having CPS take their children or repeatedly procreating and filling the world with left over ovarie puke.

i had a girlfriend once...

(did'ya now? doubt it.)

...shut up!

yeah, she was a little odd, damaged goods if you will, but she was super fun to hang out with and talk to. she was just more than averagely into the earth magicks (fucking "c" and "k" in the same word again), which wasn't a bad thing it was just too cliche even for her. we weren't together for an extended period of time, which is even weirder because i wasn't nearly as cynical and hateful as i am right now. she was so adorable you thought you were getting eye cavities. seriously, more adorable than your average female anime character. she was also the first (and last) girl to ever "suggest" that i try some of her rather odd female goods.

NO! NOOOO! no two girls stuff, just...*heave*...NOOOO!

now, the "bored spell" struck me with the dire need to see if i could find her trolling around the social networking sites.

not hard, everyone is a social butterfly from behind a keyboard.

she has gotten more foxy indeed. i was unaware it was even possible, but it is. i think it hurt my brain to know that.

i guess what i'm getting to now is this simplee suggestion:

fuck all the retarded as fuck FB games that are AIDS'ing up the internet, be a little more creative and start your own game, like i did, and play the nibblets out of it and get as many friends involved as possible. use FourSquare too, while you're at it, and make it a true socially networked game.

have some fun. find an ex. FB them like GGW and hope for a 4sq badge.

enjoi word junkies.

#Mayor of CITC 4 Life,

@Daxiarose

Clocks: Not Just For Walls

hello again word junkies.

many of you may already get the idea that i have pet-peev's out the ass. yes, a great deal of things irritate the shit out of me and i think i have found one that i have yet to speak about. so here goes nothing...!

who in fuck can't tell time? anyone, any takers? i swear that it has to be one of the easiest things to learn how to do, even when factoring military time. yes, for a novice, military time seems a little challenging. here's how i explain how to grasp it better:

anything after noon is 12 + H (the hour). in reverse, take the time given H - 12.

very simple stuff, i swear, it is indeed that easy.

now, excluding that whole issue and going back to standard 12 hour time tables, who the fuck STILL can't tell time?!

when someone tells you that they will arrive, return or depart at a certain time and will do any of the mentioned at another certain time it is safe to say, in most cases, that they can't tell time and they will leave you waiting on YOUR time. this phenomenon is more than irritating, it is just a blatant display of how fucking shitty a person is in general. people for the most part will disappoint you, it is a fact, ask anyone you know. if the person calls and says, "dude, i'm so sorry but i'm running late, would you mind holding up a few minutes?" or "something serious came up and i will late, go ahead without me." or "i'm getting arrested, see you whenever.", i usually won't be pissed off. they took the time to let me know the situation (vaguely or ortherwise) and weren't just assuming that i would be okay with being semi-ditched or worse.

if the person doesn't call, text or FB message me i end up being extremely pissed off.when i find myself being left to wait i fill that void of time by thinking of several things:

#1. the person leaving me waiting has opened some of their mail and have been informed that they have AIDS. then i laugh.

#2. smoke cigarettes like a freight train and then make them buy me another pack later, as asshole tax.

#3. go ahead with my plans and, upon seeing them at another time, verbally assault them for being so selfish and cunt-ly.

#4. ignore them for awhile (length of time is determined by value of event) and eventually talk to them again, unless it was a super serious time spending affair, in which case i write them off like a tax deduction.

it is generally rude and foul to semi-ditch or completely ditch someone. it's worse if you know they have plans or have plans with you, the "wait maker".

so, word junkies: don't forget to call, text, FB message or tweet someone if you're going to be late or just not show the fuck up. it will come back to spit in your mixed drink.

Doesn't Look Good In "Holding My Breath" Blue,

Dax.