Its the end of the world

So I find myself teetering on financial ruin or at least right on the brink of it. Thanks to excess spending and several miscaluclations I may be without a single cent to work with in the coming week. I was thinking in my mind this game if what country people would be if they were a country according to their various personal habits and characteristics. I would most certainly be a tinpot dictatorship prone to unneccessary spending and coruption. Truly I just need to stop being such a godamn fucking idiot all the time. Went into work just to check my shecuduale and I could already feel the despair and loathing return as I entered. Bad times. I'm reading a good book though about a leader of Serbian death squads during the 1990s. Its about this whole career and the crazy life he led. Uplifting stuff. Hope may remain but I need to cut down on needless government spending and focus on the needs of the people.

We were fighting for our independence you were fighting to enslave us

I was just looking at some of my previous entries and noticing a penchant for putting words in the wrong place. I think maybe im typing too fast or perhaps not throughly reviewing my final product but it is irriatating. My brain aches as I attempt to wake up at some kind of normal hour. Twelve noon is not the morning. Normal people don't wake up that late still I persist. Feel tired but still not weary enough to pass out but without enough energy to do anything quite yet. Its interesting the kind of marketing schemes food companies use to make their products seem more healthy. Recently i've noticed alot of 'trans-fat free' or 'organic' on almost everything. From healthy things to bags of chips. Even though it is not explicitly stated that 'trans-fat free' is healthier it is clearly implied. Still I think for the most part organic things taste better. A good example of this is penut butter. There is definatly a noticable difference in taste between say Teddy organic penut butter and something like Peter Pan. Less sugary more dankess more square inch. Having a really hard time articulating myself on this fine morning.

Large ladies of lust.

I love big girls. I feel they are the unsung heros of our generation. Constantly derided by popular culture for not meeting the common standard of beauty they hold their own. And if you look at old reniassance painting and portraits of nude women back in the day you will find alot of very voloptous ladies. I feel this is good. Not to knock skinny women because they are also beautiful but there is something about a well formed large lady that inspires me. I just want to grab unto them and.. well I digress. But the point i'm making is that its hard being a girl. Constantly looked down upon by males, always being the focal point of sexual attention, made to feel unattractive in popular magazines, well by golly its a damn shame. Our women are beautiful godesses who deserve to be treated with respect. They are the givers of life, our mothers, our daughters, our sisters, and so forth. I'm just saying we should give big girls the respect they deserve and stop pushing unattainble standards of beauty down their throats. So heres to you large ladies for holding your own against bullshit.

Shotgun blast to the face

So I find myself because of a few i'll chosen remarks the cause of an internatinal uproar between myself and someone I never wished to associate with again. Random awakening a one thirty in the morning provides me with a reason to randomly post on this thing. Ughh. I thought I had it all down but again I begin to wonder where it all went wrong. Heading again down the wrong path. An evil path, a path wrought with destruction. Perhaps the answer is not as clear as I would think. Or perhaps its all in front of my eyes and I just can't see it blinded by my own feeling.

Prison gym

The things I like about my gym are the things most people would detest. Its not a place with an abundance of things like up to date equipment, cold water, or particularly well maintained facilities. Still it has all of the spartan essentials one needs. Treadmills, weights, and thats it. The building was constructed around 1908 I believe and for the most part the facade it the same. Old signs which look like they must be at least more the fifties adorn the walls completing the sense of the gym that time forgot. I was lifting in the weight the other day and one of the other regulars commented that it was a 'prison gym.' I found this amusing because I too have often felt this way when I was lifting weights. He was not even saying it exactly as a bad thing he was just saying that it had only the essentials. Someday if I become massively wealthy I would like to donate a considerable sum to the Somerville YMCA to help them make renovations and improve their infrastructure. Until then I will continue to enjoy my prison gym.

Wish I was in thrid grade

I was thinking about in the Odyssey and what a crazy tale it is. Of course it was written in ancient times which does much to explain its content. Odysseus kills all those assholes trying to court his wife after hes gone. Granted I would be pretty depressed too if some fuckers were trying to bang my wife but the dude's been gone for ten years. And indeed I would probably assume that he was either dead or fallen off the map during that span. Still to stay faithful for that long is also a tall order in my book. I need an endless bottle of bourbon which will continue to replenish itself after its gone. I was also reading that about alot of the grimm fairy tales. That they were watered down in their most recent incarnation in popular culture. That they were in fact far more grim no pun intended then one would think. More filled with images of violence and cruelty then would be conceived. I really don't want to get fired and I feel reluctant to quite somehow. At least in lieu of another job. Its weird posting all this shit on a forum where most probably won't know what the fuck i'm talking about but its a start. It helps to have somewhere to broadcast these thoughts to someone who might read it. Also need an endless bag of weed. One that would continue to replenish itself long after it was gone. I'm not sure really what the fuck is wrong with me. A horrible insatiable appeitite for destruction that I cannot seem to fill. Why can't I be addicted to running? or hang gliding? or something even vaguely contructive. I feel the need to do something extreme, some kind of abrupt decesion that would be wholly out of character for me. I was talking to my friend De'arro at work about working next to the girl that broke up with me and we replied 'why don't you just bag someone else'. Meaning get another girlfriend or a girl to talk to. He made it sound as easy as picking up a new pair or trousers. Maybe it is for some but i've never really felt that way. Of course its not entirely impossible its just hard when your still thinking about the one before. To just mindlessly move from one to the other that is the problem. I've talked to a few people and they all say the same thing find someone else, get over it somehow, build yourself up. I can understand the sentiment but its difficult when I was never that high up to begin with. Small setbacks like this tend to really put me back alot. If only it could just be nighttime forever and the sun would never rise. Nostalgia is a strange beast. We all yearn for something that cannot be had and we glamourize it as something it really never was. You hear sometimes people talking about the 'good ole days' before there was alot of profanity on tv an such. The 'greatest generation.' Still during those times of the 1940's and 1950's were not all good for everyone. Black people were being lynched all the time and had little civil rights. Two superpowers were at each others throats each one poised to completly annhilate the other. Still looked at in hindsight it all seems like an episode of I love lucy or leave it to beaver or another one of the contemporary programs of the time.

I've had the time of my life.

UGhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh the sentiment seemed to sum up the whole of my thought during the past few weeks. Staring into a black space with little redeeming qualities. Can either quite where i'm working or move on and try to deal with it. Still the job itself is feeling more and more unmotivating by the minute and the morons I deal with more and more intolerable. Tried to call some weird chatting service I saw on tv and I guess no one wanted to talk to me. Oh well their loss anyway. Fucking stupid bullshit. Wish I could just go to the firing range and shoot some pistols and machines guns at random targets. Feel generally depressed and depressing bored with my own benign laments. Its a story which has little merit or interesting aspects and one which I would be wholly uninterested in if it weren't my own. Even if I do get out of it this fucking job is going to drive me insane and i'm going to tell someone to go to fucking hell if it doesn't end soon. So many assholes, so little time. It truly all seems somewhat hopeless and insurmounatable soetimes a massive demon that cannot be conquered. I know some people that are my peers that have gone to other cities, other countries and accomplished so much more then I have. I have set the bar low for myself in pretty much ever aspect in my life and the results are quite noticeable. Little achievement, little follow through and even less motivation.

The Clark kent of our time

The feelings of flith and ruin have subsided somewhat. Replaced by only a general sense of loathing. I feel like a almost derive some sort of strange satisfaction in wallowing in my own misery. Its like a kind of crutch I hold unto, a kind of excuse for a lack of productivity and general moping. True it seems as if the times are difficult but perhaps as they say the trying times are when we are given the best oppurtunities to excel. I don't know if its just me i've noticed there seems to be a section of people in this world who enjoy giving other people derisive startes for no apparant reason. This woman at the Y where I go to work out is a prime example. Older lady maybe and her fifties or sixties, at the desk and whenever I go to give my card I am given a look as if I was the Devil himself. Sometime when I am heading upstair I will take a quick sidelong glance at the clock in the control desk and I will recieve the same glare as if I were some kind of shoplifter at a store. I can't tell if its some strange kind of personal bias towards me, sense I have had no real interaction with her at all, or perhaps some kind of general animous towards young people in general. Either way it irks me to no end.

Hilarious mid morning

I feel like ruin and flith. The chemicals I have consumed slowly secreteing from my pores as I stare into space pondering oblivion. I always wanted to start one of these things where you can just rant on and on about stuff. There may be a way somehow that I can redeem this day perhaps salvage something. My room is right next to a busy street so I can hear people walking by and cars going. It seems some kind of horrible injustice to configure a building in such a manner. For the past few weeks I have been like John wilkes booth unable to accept the fall of the confederacy. Spending long listless hours brooding in my room drinking, being generally unproductive. I feel a surge of apathy towards pretty much everyone and everything. Still this is no way to conduct affairs forever. Certainly don't want to end up like Johnny B. At least I feel doing this is somehow, somewhat, productive on some level. That some random person on the internet will read all this and find it interesting or insightful somehow.