IPOD
RADIO
You've fucked me over. Thank you.
My life is really confusing right now, and for that, I really thank you.
You don't even know this page exists. You don't know I have a blog on SuicideGirls. And this is my letter to you.
I'm really happy that I'm confused. I don't know what I should do, what I should say. It's exhilarating. I'm having my first gasp of air in seven months. I don't even know what the fuck I'm writing.
I know I'm going to talk lots. But what's more, is I'm not going to say a goddamn thing. You do that to me. Again, thank you.
You're too good to be real. I barely fucking know you and I already put my scarred hear in your palms. I know it sounds like something I shouldn't be doing. But I was thinking about it. And after much deep contemplation, why the fuck not? Why shouldn't I? You're a good person. I'm happy I've found you. Whether you turn out to be a casual acquaintance, or the mother of the children I-always-said-I-never-wanted-until-I-was-ready-but-I-realized-that-accidents-happen-and-that's-the-only-way-anyone-is-even-born-anyhow: I am thankful you're in my life.
You're not real. You fucking can't be. I'm a fucking character in a Palanhiuck novel. I just fucking know it. You are part of me that I created out of frustration with being "lonely". You're everything I'm not, but at the same time, we're the same fucking person. I wonder if I have to fail suicide in order to get rid of you. Just like Jack. Don't worry though. You fill me with life. I'm not gonna pull any triggers. Ever.
What I will do, and I know will be damn-fucking-soon: Is drop bombs on you.
That's your warning.
Christoph is at war with _________, and this is your notice of engagement. We are in battle now. And although no triggers will be pulled, I'm going to drop the F-Bomb and the L-Bomb in the same fucking sentence... Reeeeeeeal soon.
Trust me. It's going to happen.
I'd write you some poetry, but I really got nothing smart to say around you. I can't over-do anything. I can't candycoat anything I say to you. You bring out the true essence of my being. My mind is in my mouth when I talk to you. And when the words come out, sometimes I go "Oh shit! Maybe that was too harsh. Or maybe I phrased it wrong." But time and time again you tell me that it's good, and no matter what I say - no matter how stupid or blunt - you always thank me for being me.
I haven't felt this good to simply be me in forever.
I can't be creative around you. I'm all fucking jumbled. It's a fucking nightmare to get anything out there that is remotely rad when I'm around you. I want to write music about it. But there's really nothing more to say than what you've done to me. Which is this letter.
That you won't see.
Just putting it out there. Into existence. Where I write most of the crap that's happened to me. But this ain't crap. Trust me. It's fucking Heaven.
You make dub music better.
You don't know how much of a big fucking deal that is to me.
You really have no idea. It's fucking epic in my books.
Seriously.
You don't even like it that much, as far as I know.
"I like your music. It's relaxing. I can let all my worries in the world die forever when I'm with you. The lighting. The smells. The music. This couch. Most of all, you."
I fucking ____ you.
Not yet.
Not coming out yet.
Soon...
I promise...
I always pictured the "perfect girl for me" as a chick with the exact same tastes in everything, dressed the same way, same caliber of tattoos, same outlooks on life... She'd have to have gone through hell like me. She'd have a mohawk (at one point anyhow), but she'd be really girly. She'd love ska, punk, metal, reggae, dub, and a bunch of wierd shit that nobody else has ever heard of but us. She'd like to mosh, she'd like to skank, she'd like to dance, she'd participate in the odd Wall-Of-Death. But she would exercise moderation, and be in the same mood I am at all times. She'd probably be bisexual. And probably have a lot of hot friends... Haha! She'd be hang-up free. Open minded. Free of Prejudice. Hate Haters and never say hate other than that. Never say never... She'd love to allow me to please her and return the favor...
Basically, me.
As much as it'd be rad to have a female twin. I'd much rather have you.
You're different from me.
That might be perfect for me. Or not. Who cares.
All I know is how you make me feel.
And we'll uncover what we share and what we differ on. And from there we will make it rad and have fun with it until then.
You know...
You said you knew me in highschool. I never even recall your name, your face, nothin'. That happens a lot. I'm a hard person to ignore. I'm big and loud and out there. I'm sorry. But not. Because my first impression of you (due to both of us and where we were back then) would be different. And I'd have it no other way.
You know what my first impression of you is?
"That right there, is the hottest fucking chick in this whole houseparty."
Sounds shallow, I know. But with my personal taste in women usually comes some interesting personality. Nobody has that much tattoos and had nothing to say. Nobody dresses like that and is boring. It's just the taste I was blessed with. By "hot" I mean I'm attracted to you. Not just in a "physical" manner. But because you look like you're fun. Sounds like a generalization, but it's yet to fail me.
And even then, you were still the hottest fucking chick in the whole houseparty. Hahaha!
Anyhow... I tried talking to you a whole bunch that night. But I was pretty much braindead from looking at you. My tongue went limp, other things went not-so-limp. I opened my mouth, and pretended that the embarassing shit I tried to say to you was random, publically-addressed drunken banter. You did that to me. Good job.
I wanted to move on in, and tell you that I thought you were pretty. But you were with a guy who'd answer all the questions I asked for you. I assumed he was Mr. Overprotective McBoyfriend. So out of respect, I did nothing...
...For a while that is. And even then. I only wanted to get to know you. So I wasn't going to ask for a date. I just needed a way to talk to you.
So I put on a humorous front. I pretended I was just being random and funny, but really the following was all... how do you say... pre-meditated malice-forethought:
I grabbed a Gnome from the garden. Made a couple of my friends sign their e-mail addresses on it so it looked ligit. Brought it to the area you were in, and screamed "Sign the Gnome if you want pictures of tonight's antics and adventures!"
And it fucking worked. You signed it. Unfortunately, screaming shit like that at a huge party got a bunch of really redundant e-mail-signatures on it that I had no use for. I guarded that gnome with my fucking life on the wobbly-walk (three blocks away from) home. Someone actually said "Let's smash it!" and I told 'em to fuck off in a pretty harsh manner. Haha!
I got you now. I got you where I want you. You're fucking mine...
For the next three weeks I got a lot of:
"Hey! You're _______ (Insert Christoph, Stoph, Chris, Slut here), right?"
"How's it going? I'm _____!"
"I'm sorry, who?"
"_____, from Willie's party!"
"Oh, hey! Sorry. I'm terrible. I don't remember you..."
"It's okay. But hey, why haven't you sent me those pictures yet? Add me to your MSN. I wanna talk some more! That gnome-thing was awesome! Add me!"
"Sure!"
Aaaaaaaaand I never did. Except for you.
You make me feel wanted. You make me feel appreciated. You make me feel awesome when I'm already thinkin' I can't feel any better.
You don't even have to do anything, you just make things better.
And no matter what happens, thank you.
For the nothing you never had to do.
You're too fucking rad...
I'm fucking keeping you.
You're gonna get so fucking smothered that you're going to rue the day that you ever dished out your e-mail address so fucking easily.
There's lots more I want to say. But I'm retarded again 'cause I'm thinking of you too much.
It's just what you do to me...
- Christoph
My life is really confusing right now, and for that, I really thank you.
You don't even know this page exists. You don't know I have a blog on SuicideGirls. And this is my letter to you.
I'm really happy that I'm confused. I don't know what I should do, what I should say. It's exhilarating. I'm having my first gasp of air in seven months. I don't even know what the fuck I'm writing.
I know I'm going to talk lots. But what's more, is I'm not going to say a goddamn thing. You do that to me. Again, thank you.
You're too good to be real. I barely fucking know you and I already put my scarred hear in your palms. I know it sounds like something I shouldn't be doing. But I was thinking about it. And after much deep contemplation, why the fuck not? Why shouldn't I? You're a good person. I'm happy I've found you. Whether you turn out to be a casual acquaintance, or the mother of the children I-always-said-I-never-wanted-until-I-was-ready-but-I-realized-that-accidents-happen-and-that's-the-only-way-anyone-is-even-born-anyhow: I am thankful you're in my life.
You're not real. You fucking can't be. I'm a fucking character in a Palanhiuck novel. I just fucking know it. You are part of me that I created out of frustration with being "lonely". You're everything I'm not, but at the same time, we're the same fucking person. I wonder if I have to fail suicide in order to get rid of you. Just like Jack. Don't worry though. You fill me with life. I'm not gonna pull any triggers. Ever.
What I will do, and I know will be damn-fucking-soon: Is drop bombs on you.
That's your warning.
Christoph is at war with _________, and this is your notice of engagement. We are in battle now. And although no triggers will be pulled, I'm going to drop the F-Bomb and the L-Bomb in the same fucking sentence... Reeeeeeeal soon.
Trust me. It's going to happen.
I'd write you some poetry, but I really got nothing smart to say around you. I can't over-do anything. I can't candycoat anything I say to you. You bring out the true essence of my being. My mind is in my mouth when I talk to you. And when the words come out, sometimes I go "Oh shit! Maybe that was too harsh. Or maybe I phrased it wrong." But time and time again you tell me that it's good, and no matter what I say - no matter how stupid or blunt - you always thank me for being me.
I haven't felt this good to simply be me in forever.
I can't be creative around you. I'm all fucking jumbled. It's a fucking nightmare to get anything out there that is remotely rad when I'm around you. I want to write music about it. But there's really nothing more to say than what you've done to me. Which is this letter.
That you won't see.
Just putting it out there. Into existence. Where I write most of the crap that's happened to me. But this ain't crap. Trust me. It's fucking Heaven.
You make dub music better.
You don't know how much of a big fucking deal that is to me.
You really have no idea. It's fucking epic in my books.
Seriously.
You don't even like it that much, as far as I know.
"I like your music. It's relaxing. I can let all my worries in the world die forever when I'm with you. The lighting. The smells. The music. This couch. Most of all, you."
I fucking ____ you.
Not yet.
Not coming out yet.
Soon...
I promise...
I always pictured the "perfect girl for me" as a chick with the exact same tastes in everything, dressed the same way, same caliber of tattoos, same outlooks on life... She'd have to have gone through hell like me. She'd have a mohawk (at one point anyhow), but she'd be really girly. She'd love ska, punk, metal, reggae, dub, and a bunch of wierd shit that nobody else has ever heard of but us. She'd like to mosh, she'd like to skank, she'd like to dance, she'd participate in the odd Wall-Of-Death. But she would exercise moderation, and be in the same mood I am at all times. She'd probably be bisexual. And probably have a lot of hot friends... Haha! She'd be hang-up free. Open minded. Free of Prejudice. Hate Haters and never say hate other than that. Never say never... She'd love to allow me to please her and return the favor...
Basically, me.
As much as it'd be rad to have a female twin. I'd much rather have you.
You're different from me.
That might be perfect for me. Or not. Who cares.
All I know is how you make me feel.
And we'll uncover what we share and what we differ on. And from there we will make it rad and have fun with it until then.
You know...
You said you knew me in highschool. I never even recall your name, your face, nothin'. That happens a lot. I'm a hard person to ignore. I'm big and loud and out there. I'm sorry. But not. Because my first impression of you (due to both of us and where we were back then) would be different. And I'd have it no other way.
You know what my first impression of you is?
"That right there, is the hottest fucking chick in this whole houseparty."
Sounds shallow, I know. But with my personal taste in women usually comes some interesting personality. Nobody has that much tattoos and had nothing to say. Nobody dresses like that and is boring. It's just the taste I was blessed with. By "hot" I mean I'm attracted to you. Not just in a "physical" manner. But because you look like you're fun. Sounds like a generalization, but it's yet to fail me.
And even then, you were still the hottest fucking chick in the whole houseparty. Hahaha!
Anyhow... I tried talking to you a whole bunch that night. But I was pretty much braindead from looking at you. My tongue went limp, other things went not-so-limp. I opened my mouth, and pretended that the embarassing shit I tried to say to you was random, publically-addressed drunken banter. You did that to me. Good job.
I wanted to move on in, and tell you that I thought you were pretty. But you were with a guy who'd answer all the questions I asked for you. I assumed he was Mr. Overprotective McBoyfriend. So out of respect, I did nothing...
...For a while that is. And even then. I only wanted to get to know you. So I wasn't going to ask for a date. I just needed a way to talk to you.
So I put on a humorous front. I pretended I was just being random and funny, but really the following was all... how do you say... pre-meditated malice-forethought:
I grabbed a Gnome from the garden. Made a couple of my friends sign their e-mail addresses on it so it looked ligit. Brought it to the area you were in, and screamed "Sign the Gnome if you want pictures of tonight's antics and adventures!"
And it fucking worked. You signed it. Unfortunately, screaming shit like that at a huge party got a bunch of really redundant e-mail-signatures on it that I had no use for. I guarded that gnome with my fucking life on the wobbly-walk (three blocks away from) home. Someone actually said "Let's smash it!" and I told 'em to fuck off in a pretty harsh manner. Haha!
I got you now. I got you where I want you. You're fucking mine...
For the next three weeks I got a lot of:
"Hey! You're _______ (Insert Christoph, Stoph, Chris, Slut here), right?"
"How's it going? I'm _____!"
"I'm sorry, who?"
"_____, from Willie's party!"
"Oh, hey! Sorry. I'm terrible. I don't remember you..."
"It's okay. But hey, why haven't you sent me those pictures yet? Add me to your MSN. I wanna talk some more! That gnome-thing was awesome! Add me!"
"Sure!"
Aaaaaaaaand I never did. Except for you.
You make me feel wanted. You make me feel appreciated. You make me feel awesome when I'm already thinkin' I can't feel any better.
You don't even have to do anything, you just make things better.
And no matter what happens, thank you.
For the nothing you never had to do.
You're too fucking rad...
I'm fucking keeping you.
You're gonna get so fucking smothered that you're going to rue the day that you ever dished out your e-mail address so fucking easily.
There's lots more I want to say. But I'm retarded again 'cause I'm thinking of you too much.
It's just what you do to me...
- Christoph
Not much to say.
Well... That's a fuckin' lie. But I've come to the conclusion that if I start talking now, we're all done for.
So I decided to show you. Not anything related to anything I have to say. Just stuff. Stuff I wanna show you.
Well... That's a fuckin' lie. But I've come to the conclusion that if I start talking now, we're all done for.
So I decided to show you. Not anything related to anything I have to say. Just stuff. Stuff I wanna show you.
Take care.
Live. Love.
- PunkerSlut/Christoph/Vagitarian/Michaelangelo... Whatever the fuck you wanna call me.
Gettin' better.
Thanks for all the well wishes!
I went on my first absinthe adventure. That was radtacular. Doing it again real soon.
I've made a shiiiiiiitload of new friends, and new-friends-again when I made a facebook. It's amazing. All the chicks I had the mondo-hots for back when I first started taking a liking to girls, have become people I wouldn't even associate myself with now. Haha! I never would have thought they all would have gone so downhill, or turned out looking how they actually do! So many had what seemed like potential back then. But what did I know. I was a kid. But still. It's interesting to see how different reality is from how you assumed it would be. But lots changed over time I suppose.
Hmmmm... Since I've been mostly broken, I don't really have all that much flashy-rad-stuff to be showing you. All I got is what's on my mind.
I was supposed to move out on three seperate occassions, just in case the other two didn't work out, I'd always have the other one to fall back on. Right? Wrong. Broken collarbone.
I'm in LA from August 17th-27th. Ten days. I'm coming down with GlassDragon. She's rad! And fun! You should go remind her that she is! Haha! And if you live in LA, lemme know! We'll tear shit up! Just keep in mind that I'm 20, and so is GlassDragon, so nothin' over-the-age-of bullshit. Unless you convince us to get fakes, then we might. But we'd need some pretty good motivation there.
I'm all about making new friends! And this is going to be my first time away from home since I was 11. I'm rad. I like fun. I'm very easy to get along with. And I'm never bored, no matter how lame anything might seem. As long as you're happy, I'm having fun. So come see me when I'm in Cali! We might also need couches to crash on! Come! Make friends from the far away lands! We emerge from the belly of the fabled Canadas!
Hope to make some new friends.
Over the course of the summer, I'm seeing:
Nekromantix
Left Alone
Slightly Stoopid
G. Love
Ozomatli
Special Sauce
Deftones
Societys Parasites
Furios (A hundred times)
Secondrate (Thee hundred-bajillion times)
Static-X
Ozzfest
Warped Tour
Aggrolites (Twice!)
One Drop
The Real MacKenzies
The Rebel Spell (A dozen Times)
It's gonna be rad. But affording everything is ridiculous! I been doing alright though.
Not working and not making income fucking sucks though. The income part. Haha!
I feel guilty for making you sit through all this with nothing rad to watch/see...
Lessee here...
The execution was poor because we were drunk and he knew something was up, he just had no idea what:
Especially after.
This... Is Juice McQueen... "Queen Amongst Men":
"Oooooh! It was hot under Christoph!" Hahahahahahaha!
The most colossal sacking I've done this year:
Never do I sack. But he sacked me. It's the rules. Eye for an eye. Ball for a ball.
I saw this:
And trimmed my hawk. It was getting ridiculous. That room was an 8x10 cell, and we crammed a shitload of us in there! We circle-pitted the shit out of that little room at the RadHouse! There were about 100 people who wanted in, but couldn't fit. Haha! We win!
I dunno...
I guess that's what's up.
I rebroke my collarbone. Well, a dude named Josh did. He hand-springed off my shoulders into a full on shoulder-ride, started jumping up and down, screaming "Christoph! Christoph! Woooo!" I haven't been that angry in over 2 years. I was seriously gonna hurt him. But I realized he wasn't an asshole, just an idiot.
"I thought you were wearing that sling and brace for fun, man! Haha!"
Ugh...
Time to tone it down, I suppose.
Thank god it's only temporary.
As soon as I heal, I move the fuck out of this town.
For now:
No Sex. No Booze. No Bass. No Skating. No Walking. No Videogames. No Buses. No Skanking. No Parties. No Fun... No PunkerSlut.
I'm just Christoph now.
It's nice to relax.
Hope all is well with you guys. Take care.
Love.
- Stoph
Thanks for all the well wishes!
I went on my first absinthe adventure. That was radtacular. Doing it again real soon.
I've made a shiiiiiiitload of new friends, and new-friends-again when I made a facebook. It's amazing. All the chicks I had the mondo-hots for back when I first started taking a liking to girls, have become people I wouldn't even associate myself with now. Haha! I never would have thought they all would have gone so downhill, or turned out looking how they actually do! So many had what seemed like potential back then. But what did I know. I was a kid. But still. It's interesting to see how different reality is from how you assumed it would be. But lots changed over time I suppose.
Hmmmm... Since I've been mostly broken, I don't really have all that much flashy-rad-stuff to be showing you. All I got is what's on my mind.
I was supposed to move out on three seperate occassions, just in case the other two didn't work out, I'd always have the other one to fall back on. Right? Wrong. Broken collarbone.
I'm in LA from August 17th-27th. Ten days. I'm coming down with GlassDragon. She's rad! And fun! You should go remind her that she is! Haha! And if you live in LA, lemme know! We'll tear shit up! Just keep in mind that I'm 20, and so is GlassDragon, so nothin' over-the-age-of bullshit. Unless you convince us to get fakes, then we might. But we'd need some pretty good motivation there.
I'm all about making new friends! And this is going to be my first time away from home since I was 11. I'm rad. I like fun. I'm very easy to get along with. And I'm never bored, no matter how lame anything might seem. As long as you're happy, I'm having fun. So come see me when I'm in Cali! We might also need couches to crash on! Come! Make friends from the far away lands! We emerge from the belly of the fabled Canadas!
Hope to make some new friends.
Over the course of the summer, I'm seeing:
Nekromantix
Left Alone
Slightly Stoopid
G. Love
Ozomatli
Special Sauce
Deftones
Societys Parasites
Furios (A hundred times)
Secondrate (Thee hundred-bajillion times)
Static-X
Ozzfest
Warped Tour
Aggrolites (Twice!)
One Drop
The Real MacKenzies
The Rebel Spell (A dozen Times)
It's gonna be rad. But affording everything is ridiculous! I been doing alright though.
Not working and not making income fucking sucks though. The income part. Haha!
I feel guilty for making you sit through all this with nothing rad to watch/see...
Lessee here...
The execution was poor because we were drunk and he knew something was up, he just had no idea what:
Especially after.
This... Is Juice McQueen... "Queen Amongst Men":
"Oooooh! It was hot under Christoph!" Hahahahahahaha!
The most colossal sacking I've done this year:
Never do I sack. But he sacked me. It's the rules. Eye for an eye. Ball for a ball.
I saw this:
And trimmed my hawk. It was getting ridiculous. That room was an 8x10 cell, and we crammed a shitload of us in there! We circle-pitted the shit out of that little room at the RadHouse! There were about 100 people who wanted in, but couldn't fit. Haha! We win!
I dunno...
I guess that's what's up.
I rebroke my collarbone. Well, a dude named Josh did. He hand-springed off my shoulders into a full on shoulder-ride, started jumping up and down, screaming "Christoph! Christoph! Woooo!" I haven't been that angry in over 2 years. I was seriously gonna hurt him. But I realized he wasn't an asshole, just an idiot.
"I thought you were wearing that sling and brace for fun, man! Haha!"
Ugh...
Time to tone it down, I suppose.
Thank god it's only temporary.
As soon as I heal, I move the fuck out of this town.
For now:
No Sex. No Booze. No Bass. No Skating. No Walking. No Videogames. No Buses. No Skanking. No Parties. No Fun... No PunkerSlut.
I'm just Christoph now.
It's nice to relax.
Hope all is well with you guys. Take care.
Love.
- Stoph
Shit, kiddo...
Shit...
I've been updating so scarcely...
Wow...
Well let's see. I can move into my buddy's sweet pad June 1st if I wanna. But I think I'm gonna hit up Long Beach before I move in. So far, so good, lot's of y'all are really kind and fun! I look forward to meeting ye Californians, regardless of place! I just wanna make some new friends, far away from home! I've never really travelled, so now's my chance! Finding someone to go with is a bitch and a half. All my friends are broke ass punk rockers or really strange travellers, and if they're neither of these, they don't fall under the "Want to take a far aways from home with you" category... None of 'em can go, so far. Worst comes to worst, I come down, for a few days, get my ink, meet some people, come home.
Movin's gonna suck. I'm sooooo fucking rooted in here in this shitty town.
Funny how that works, I hate the place, but I love my big underground scene here. Everyone knows everyone. Everyone loves everyone. There's so much Unity!
The majority of strangers are fucking lamewads that don't deserve oxygen. But the friends and acquaintances I've made are worth keeping. Not to mention my fucking band that I adore... so... fucking... hard...
Is it wrong that I LOVE listening to my band? It sounds kind of narcissistic, but... Doesn't it mean it was done right? Right, going as far as saying that done for myself and my style... I think it's good. Really good.
I shall post some, when I get the chance.
I keep making new friends.
It's awesome!
I dunno what else to say. I'm working way too much for my own good...
But I got money and new ink and stuff...
Celibacy keeps me safe. Three months now.
And new ink to come...
Ah fuck it, here's some shiny stuff for you:
The best part about formerly weighing 350lbs, is you can wrinkle to wind-tunnel proportions!
New ink! (Black & White to save your eyes from my pearly yellows...)
As my song says, "Drunk again..."
Wet-newspaper-slut!
Natalie Rain is pretty much the awesome at photography. I wuv her cute ass!
I've been drawing. Not really getting any better, haha!
I really don't know... Haha!
Second fucking time Natalie hath given my thy crabs!
A slihouette of said pretty lady:
Bitch made two moons!
...And then I eated one!
Sexy colourful bunch, eh?
As you can see...
I am a fan...
Of face squishing!
You know who's one of the cutest girlies I know? Alaina!
The loverly Ala is a fucking goddess. I miss her bunches...
Natalie Rain's got a cute pussy. Unfortunately it SUCKS at hugs and cuddles.
Our new trumpeteer is a total cutie. We hump in shadows. And then I realize how stupid I look with a mohawk so large.
This kid I work with, Adrian, really wanted five bucks... So much so that he would shoot a bullet of salt and hold it for 10 seconds before sipping iced tea to dilute it. Thing is, there was so much salt that it would no longer disolve and remained a powder in his mouth for about 8 minutes. Worth my 5 bucks.
He like ripped his throat open, consuming that much angry powder...
Germs Reject is a good skateboarder. He does tricks on boards that aren't usually trickable...
I really got nothin' more but more pictures and stories... and those take sooooo much effort...
I go now.
I wuv you.
Shit...
I've been updating so scarcely...
Wow...
Well let's see. I can move into my buddy's sweet pad June 1st if I wanna. But I think I'm gonna hit up Long Beach before I move in. So far, so good, lot's of y'all are really kind and fun! I look forward to meeting ye Californians, regardless of place! I just wanna make some new friends, far away from home! I've never really travelled, so now's my chance! Finding someone to go with is a bitch and a half. All my friends are broke ass punk rockers or really strange travellers, and if they're neither of these, they don't fall under the "Want to take a far aways from home with you" category... None of 'em can go, so far. Worst comes to worst, I come down, for a few days, get my ink, meet some people, come home.
Movin's gonna suck. I'm sooooo fucking rooted in here in this shitty town.
Funny how that works, I hate the place, but I love my big underground scene here. Everyone knows everyone. Everyone loves everyone. There's so much Unity!
The majority of strangers are fucking lamewads that don't deserve oxygen. But the friends and acquaintances I've made are worth keeping. Not to mention my fucking band that I adore... so... fucking... hard...Is it wrong that I LOVE listening to my band? It sounds kind of narcissistic, but... Doesn't it mean it was done right? Right, going as far as saying that done for myself and my style... I think it's good. Really good.
I shall post some, when I get the chance.
I keep making new friends.
It's awesome!
I dunno what else to say. I'm working way too much for my own good...
But I got money and new ink and stuff...
Celibacy keeps me safe. Three months now.
And new ink to come...
Ah fuck it, here's some shiny stuff for you:
The best part about formerly weighing 350lbs, is you can wrinkle to wind-tunnel proportions!
New ink! (Black & White to save your eyes from my pearly yellows...)
As my song says, "Drunk again..."
Wet-newspaper-slut!
Natalie Rain is pretty much the awesome at photography. I wuv her cute ass!
I've been drawing. Not really getting any better, haha!
I really don't know... Haha!
Second fucking time Natalie hath given my thy crabs!
A slihouette of said pretty lady:
Bitch made two moons!
...And then I eated one!
Sexy colourful bunch, eh?
As you can see...
I am a fan...
Of face squishing!
You know who's one of the cutest girlies I know? Alaina!
The loverly Ala is a fucking goddess. I miss her bunches...
Natalie Rain's got a cute pussy. Unfortunately it SUCKS at hugs and cuddles.
Our new trumpeteer is a total cutie. We hump in shadows. And then I realize how stupid I look with a mohawk so large.
This kid I work with, Adrian, really wanted five bucks... So much so that he would shoot a bullet of salt and hold it for 10 seconds before sipping iced tea to dilute it. Thing is, there was so much salt that it would no longer disolve and remained a powder in his mouth for about 8 minutes. Worth my 5 bucks.
He like ripped his throat open, consuming that much angry powder...
Germs Reject is a good skateboarder. He does tricks on boards that aren't usually trickable...
I really got nothin' more but more pictures and stories... and those take sooooo much effort...
I go now.
I wuv you.
Oi!
How goes?
Do you know anybody who wants to go to Warped Tour this year? It doesn't matter where they are, I got a wicked hook-up for 'em. I'm part of the street team, and I have a super special link that gets you five dollars off of your ticket, and it's a pre-sale so you get the ticket before anyone else, and cheaper than them too! There's also a bunch of super special mega-fun-bonus-deluxe options that come with the presale and the presale only. Like passes and super discounted merch and half price rare/unreleased-warped-CD stuff. It's all quite funkadelic.
The only way to take advantage of such promotional offers are though a my special link, and only through my special link. If you go to the webbersite and sign up and junk without it, you get nothing special.
I repeat: The only way to save on your warped ticket and get it right freaking now, and have awesome offers for other shit too, IS THROUGH MY SPECIAL LINK .
SO CLICK HERE IF YOU WANT MY SUPER SPECIAL PROMOTIONAL PRESALE OFFERS! IT ONLY WORKS THROUGH THIS LINK!
It doesn't matter where you are. Anywhere. If you know anyone going to Warped, make sure they hear about this pronto like Tonto! 
And make sure they go through this link! Otherwise it's all for naught! Okies?
Tell all your friends because each district only allows so many presales. And get 'em quick, because presales end for different districts at different times. But I think the earliest ending one is like... A week from now. So no worries. Just hurry! Get 'em while you can!
In other news, I'm fuckin' happy. A giant tumour has been removed from my heart, and she's trying way too hard as we speak. She's dead to me. And it's for the better.
I regret nothing.
I just lived and learned.
I'm going to more shows, more parties, making more moolah through work, I'm well on my way to coming down to Cali for ink!
I got a rad switchblade. I need brass knuckles to go with it now.
I'm gonna post a bunch of videos. Because blogs with movement and noise are more fun!
My cousin Cassidy hit hard times in Winterpeg, trying to make it on his own through a life of crime. He's coming back home, bloody and battered. But home nonetheless. We used to fucking hate eachother. Same with my bro. Funny how much we all love eachother now.
Here's Cass:
When I get drunk, I play a lot of bass. I guess it might be because 90% of my friends are musicians, and into the same music I am... Generally...
Here's examples of so:
Forgive my shitty playing. I'm better sober. I promise.
Let's see here... We got a new member in our band! Her name's Lauren! And she's a fox! She let's me hog the bed! And she's an amazing singer! And she's our trumpeteer! And she's got the best taste in music! And best of all...
We wake up. We go into her kitchen. She makes me run to the store to get whipped cream. And when I come back, she's fuckin' made a bajillion fucking fresh homemade waffles!
Best part of all this?
She whips out a fat bottle of rye.
And we get drunk at 11am. Over homecooked (from scratch) waffles!
See?!
Isn't she ceeeyoooot?!
We sober up. Along the way, make fun of retards:
And confuse the crap out of the poor girl!
I've been having a lot of parties lately. And attending just as many. And twice as many shows.
Here, after a FUCKED UP event at another party (drummer of Secondrate Rejects, Willie was hosting), where some 'roid monkey beat the shit out of three girls half his fucking age, we went back to my place. As a joke, we put on some Skid Row for our buddy Fuzzy, to rip on him. 'Cause it's lame music. He's a good musician. But all he listens to is Skid Row and Green Day. Well, he's got better tastes. But those are his guilty pleasures. And we hold it against him. And mere moments after one of our buddies throws on some Skid Row, to poke fun, drunk Fuzzy misses the point and fuckin' sings along anyways. It was instantaneous! Like two notes, bam. Singing. With Skid Row.
And then, a few minutes after that, and ample rippage by all of us for it being so lame and funny, fuckin' Bonnie-Bones starts singing in like it's her favourite tune...
Speaking of Fuzzy... His best buddy-guy, Fat Dan was at Willie's aforementioned party, and he brought a box-o-wine. Of which he beer-bonged.
What you don't see is him being fine. Mellow for 5 minutes. Totally normal-drunk-Fat-Dan. And then he puts out the smoke. Looks at me and goes, in the most calm of voices, "Okay, here we go."
And turns his stomach inside out on my arms and leg.
Then 5-foot-bong's-used-for-a-week-water on the same area as Dan's stomach-wine spill.
I smelled like a Portugese Cathouse!
Yeah.
Life is good.
I make about 5 new friends each weekend these days! Ska and punk shows fucking rule for friend-making!
Seeing as we're all there to celibrate the same kind of unity afterall... Kind of rocks.
Anyhow...
I'm out!
I work too much! So I'm gonna go sleep so I can do that now!
Take care little buddies!
Live. Love.
- PunkerSlut
How goes?
Do you know anybody who wants to go to Warped Tour this year? It doesn't matter where they are, I got a wicked hook-up for 'em. I'm part of the street team, and I have a super special link that gets you five dollars off of your ticket, and it's a pre-sale so you get the ticket before anyone else, and cheaper than them too! There's also a bunch of super special mega-fun-bonus-deluxe options that come with the presale and the presale only. Like passes and super discounted merch and half price rare/unreleased-warped-CD stuff. It's all quite funkadelic.
The only way to take advantage of such promotional offers are though a my special link, and only through my special link. If you go to the webbersite and sign up and junk without it, you get nothing special.
I repeat: The only way to save on your warped ticket and get it right freaking now, and have awesome offers for other shit too, IS THROUGH MY SPECIAL LINK .
SO CLICK HERE IF YOU WANT MY SUPER SPECIAL PROMOTIONAL PRESALE OFFERS! IT ONLY WORKS THROUGH THIS LINK!
It doesn't matter where you are. Anywhere. If you know anyone going to Warped, make sure they hear about this pronto like Tonto!
And make sure they go through this link! Otherwise it's all for naught! Okies? Tell all your friends because each district only allows so many presales. And get 'em quick, because presales end for different districts at different times. But I think the earliest ending one is like... A week from now. So no worries.
Just hurry! Get 'em while you can! In other news, I'm fuckin' happy. A giant tumour has been removed from my heart, and she's trying way too hard as we speak. She's dead to me. And it's for the better.
I regret nothing.
I just lived and learned.
I'm going to more shows, more parties, making more moolah through work, I'm well on my way to coming down to Cali for ink!
I got a rad switchblade. I need brass knuckles to go with it now.
I'm gonna post a bunch of videos. Because blogs with movement and noise are more fun!
My cousin Cassidy hit hard times in Winterpeg, trying to make it on his own through a life of crime. He's coming back home, bloody and battered. But home nonetheless. We used to fucking hate eachother. Same with my bro. Funny how much we all love eachother now.
Here's Cass:
When I get drunk, I play a lot of bass. I guess it might be because 90% of my friends are musicians, and into the same music I am... Generally...
Here's examples of so:
Forgive my shitty playing. I'm better sober. I promise.
Let's see here... We got a new member in our band! Her name's Lauren! And she's a fox! She let's me hog the bed! And she's an amazing singer! And she's our trumpeteer! And she's got the best taste in music! And best of all...
We wake up. We go into her kitchen. She makes me run to the store to get whipped cream. And when I come back, she's fuckin' made a bajillion fucking fresh homemade waffles!
Best part of all this?
She whips out a fat bottle of rye.
And we get drunk at 11am. Over homecooked (from scratch) waffles!
See?!
Isn't she ceeeyoooot?!
We sober up. Along the way, make fun of retards:
And confuse the crap out of the poor girl!
I've been having a lot of parties lately. And attending just as many. And twice as many shows.
Here, after a FUCKED UP event at another party (drummer of Secondrate Rejects, Willie was hosting), where some 'roid monkey beat the shit out of three girls half his fucking age, we went back to my place. As a joke, we put on some Skid Row for our buddy Fuzzy, to rip on him. 'Cause it's lame music. He's a good musician. But all he listens to is Skid Row and Green Day. Well, he's got better tastes. But those are his guilty pleasures. And we hold it against him. And mere moments after one of our buddies throws on some Skid Row, to poke fun, drunk Fuzzy misses the point and fuckin' sings along anyways. It was instantaneous! Like two notes, bam. Singing. With Skid Row.
And then, a few minutes after that, and ample rippage by all of us for it being so lame and funny, fuckin' Bonnie-Bones starts singing in like it's her favourite tune...
Speaking of Fuzzy... His best buddy-guy, Fat Dan was at Willie's aforementioned party, and he brought a box-o-wine. Of which he beer-bonged.
What you don't see is him being fine. Mellow for 5 minutes. Totally normal-drunk-Fat-Dan. And then he puts out the smoke. Looks at me and goes, in the most calm of voices, "Okay, here we go."
And turns his stomach inside out on my arms and leg.
Then 5-foot-bong's-used-for-a-week-water on the same area as Dan's stomach-wine spill.
I smelled like a Portugese Cathouse!
Yeah.
Life is good.
I make about 5 new friends each weekend these days! Ska and punk shows fucking rule for friend-making!
Seeing as we're all there to celibrate the same kind of unity afterall... Kind of rocks.
Anyhow...
I'm out!
I work too much! So I'm gonna go sleep so I can do that now!
Take care little buddies!
Live. Love.
- PunkerSlut
I'm done with her. I'm finally free. No more keeping someone in check, no more making two people happy. No more making sure she's being good so I don't get my heart broken again and again and again. No more lies. No more heartbreak. No more pain.
I'm happy.
Very, very happy.
My favourite local band keeps playing, and they keep dedicating songs to me, and they keep on being super rad to me. I accidentally took out their tromboner's (teeheehee) four front teeth, 'cause I was skanking, and she was playing in the crowd, and some drunken asshole decides to mosh my whole crew. Needless to say we put him on his ass half unconscious, via mosh, of course. Fighting is pointless. But anyhow, I felt really bad 'cause she's SUPER rad (and hot!) and she's way too cute and awesome to be hurt. Luckily she's used to us rude-boy, ska-boss, punk-asses and said I had no need to apologize.
God I love that girl.
She gives me tromboners. Hahaha!
I got a giant hickie on my neck. And I got work in 15 minutes. Lame. Haha! I wonder how many times I'm gonna have to explain it. I know! I'll come up with a new excuse for it every time someone asks and watch them all try to figure it out! Haha!
"I got punched in the neck!"
"Someone's spiky leather stabbed me there!"
"I passed out and some drunk chick tried reviving me by giving me CPR... On the neck... In reverse..."
"I stubbed my toe, {I]really hard."
Hehe.
Saw Ala last night. That girl's rad. Although I didn't see one tenth of her as much as I wanted. Gotta respect the whole new boyfriend thing.
Which, I might add, is lame. Haha! But whatever. Love 'er nonetheless.
I'm fucking tired.
And I'm fucking tired of being celibate.
I need fast company. With someone I fucking care for. Fast company th at lasts a very, very long time. And then cuddling.
Everyone's got a fucking mate but me now. It's a good thing in some ways. Bad in other ways.
Fuck it. Live. Love. Air in my lungs, sun up above. I don't need anymore.
Making some good money these days.
"Money don't make no man of me."
I don't need it. But it's great for trips to Cali, and for ink.
Speaking of Cali. I'm deeply considering staying there.
Oh snap! I play live REALLY soon! Our fucking band's gonna fuckin' SLAY! We're gonna rip people open!
"Death By Wrecktal Trauma!"
Unite.
Live. Love.
- PunkerSlut
"Jiggy-Don't Stop, Skippity-Hup-Hup, Skiggy-Don't Jump, Jiggity Jump Jump! Stoph! Ska-Boss! Rude-Boy-Ska! Skippity-Zep-Hep-Hep..."
I'm happy.
Very, very happy.
My favourite local band keeps playing, and they keep dedicating songs to me, and they keep on being super rad to me. I accidentally took out their tromboner's (teeheehee) four front teeth, 'cause I was skanking, and she was playing in the crowd, and some drunken asshole decides to mosh my whole crew. Needless to say we put him on his ass half unconscious, via mosh, of course. Fighting is pointless. But anyhow, I felt really bad 'cause she's SUPER rad (and hot!) and she's way too cute and awesome to be hurt. Luckily she's used to us rude-boy, ska-boss, punk-asses and said I had no need to apologize.
God I love that girl.
She gives me tromboners
. Hahaha!I got a giant hickie on my neck. And I got work in 15 minutes. Lame. Haha! I wonder how many times I'm gonna have to explain it. I know! I'll come up with a new excuse for it every time someone asks and watch them all try to figure it out! Haha!
"I got punched in the neck!"
"Someone's spiky leather stabbed me there!"
"I passed out and some drunk chick tried reviving me by giving me CPR... On the neck... In reverse..."
"I stubbed my toe, {I]really hard."
Hehe.
Saw Ala last night. That girl's rad. Although I didn't see one tenth of her as much as I wanted. Gotta respect the whole new boyfriend thing.
Which, I might add, is lame. Haha! But whatever. Love 'er nonetheless.
I'm fucking tired.
And I'm fucking tired of being celibate.
I need fast company. With someone I fucking care for. Fast company th at lasts a very, very long time. And then cuddling.
Everyone's got a fucking mate but me now. It's a good thing in some ways. Bad in other ways.
Fuck it. Live. Love. Air in my lungs, sun up above. I don't need anymore.
Making some good money these days.
"Money don't make no man of me."
I don't need it. But it's great for trips to Cali, and for ink.
Speaking of Cali. I'm deeply considering staying there.
Oh snap! I play live REALLY soon! Our fucking band's gonna fuckin' SLAY! We're gonna rip people open!
"Death By Wrecktal Trauma!"
Unite.
Live. Love.
- PunkerSlut
"Jiggy-Don't Stop, Skippity-Hup-Hup, Skiggy-Don't Jump, Jiggity Jump Jump! Stoph! Ska-Boss! Rude-Boy-Ska! Skippity-Zep-Hep-Hep..."
I don't know what to say.
I guess I should have known all along.
Can people change?
I won't generalize.
I suppose some people can.
I sure as fuck can.
But then there's some people out there who try to fuck with you.
They lie. They say they've changed, but really they've just faked who they really are.
Does that make them bad people? No. Just kind of makes them fucking losers who need to grow up. But they'll say they've grown up. Hell, they'll even think so. It's called denial. Or delusions.
Immature. Fake. Dishonest.
No thanks.
I'm done.
I had enough of that with highschool, no need to drag it with me.
And they'll probably say the same thing.
It used to be so fun, so much in common. But I realize now that these people emulate whatever is an attractive lifestyle within a close radius because they lack the ability to think for themselves. They get tattoos that other people have, dress whatever will get them the most attention, try way too hard to hang around with whoever will make them look better.
And I realize now that I was only around these people to try to help them. Out of pity. Out of habit. Out of the goodness in my heart.
Then they take said goodness and fuck with it.
They'll try hard to show you how better off they are without you, how much happier they are in life now that they have someone with one more beneficial trait. Or the old things they used to "love about you", are now the opposite. Turns out they love the stereotypical shit afterall. No matter how much your unique ________ made them ________, as soon as there's any sign of conflict, they're making sure there's evidence for you to see that they've been lying all along.
These people change their mind like the weather. Whatever makes them seem happier at that point in time.
Nothings worse than faking that you're happy.
Whether you're trying to convince yourself, or others, you're a waste of a human life until you quit convincing and start living.
Always taking the easy route.
Always cuttin' corners.
Always doing what's best for the now, not for the rest of their life.
(And I thought I was living in the moment! Haha! At least I'm not self-desctructive. I live. I love. To the fullest. Everyday. I'm genuinely happy.)
Instead of showing it off and trying too hard, why not "be it", instead of "looking like it"?
Grow up. Be yourself. For yourself. By yourself.
There's more to life than pity, sympathy and pettiness. And trust me, it's fucking beautiful on the other side, over here, next to me.
Waste your time doing things "cause they did it".
It's all a matter of perspective.
"If they jumped off a bridge, would you do it too?"
I honestly don't know what your fucking answer would be, haha!
"An eye for an eye, and we'll all be blind."
You got a lot of growing up to do.
And to be honest, I don't see it fucking happening.
You still fuck for attention.
You still fuck for reassurance.
You drink to fit in.
Nothing wrong with conforming, as long as it isn't for all the wrong reasons.
I don't regret you. I fucking pity you. You're a fuckin' terrible trainwreck I can't take my eyes off of, but at the same time, I don't wanna see.
I sincerely feel so... so sorry for you.
I'm not being negative, or insulting here. I really, really, sincerely do, from the bottom of my heart.
To see you... Let alone any human being in such a sorry state... It honestly... honestly brings me close to tears. I want to cry for you...
But everytime I get that urge, you fuckin' spin around and give me a large dose of "life's so good"... And you're so lost and tangled in your web of bullshit lies, that you almost convince me as well.
I don't have to say "go fuck yourself". You're doing it already.
You're so transparent. Not always a bad thing. Just a pitiful one in this case. Well... I guess it is a bad thing if your intentions are bad.
You didn't turn into everything you said you're not. You were it all along, and slapped on a lot of make-up to hide it.
You traded love for glamour. You traded sincerity for daterape. You traded substance for flash. You traded heart for attention.
You traded everything for nothing.
So go ahead...
Take silly little photographs of your boyfriend with clawmarks on his lame tattoos. Boast to everybody your ex knows about how awesome he is. Hang out with people who go clubbing at bars where people pretend they don't want to be dateraped. Party the most. Do more drugs. Drink more. Buy more clothes. Try to look prettier. Listen to the trendiest music. Ride shotgun in really fast cars. Tell more than one person that they mean more than anyone else to you, all at the same time. Say "I Love You" when you don't mean it. Fake interest to fit in. Do what you do best: fake and lie and submit and obey. Take poor-quality, sleazy pictures of parts of you that would bring attention to you. 'Cause hey, negative attention is better than no attention, right? Be alone, pretend you're not. Kid yourself that you're appreciated.
Go ahead. It's all yours.
There's more to life.
And I don't have to take a picture of it to prove that I'm happy, because being balls-deep in it twenty-four-fucking-seven is way more fun and fulfilling than wasting my time playing show-and-tell with all the people who still think life is a competition.
I'm better than you.
I'm happier than you.
I fucking mean it when I say "I wish you were here..."
For your sake...
The weather's always beautiful up here, and I can't be bothered to look so far down anymore to keep checking up on you.
So my chin's up.
And the sun is shining.
How dark is it down there?
Is it lonely?
What kind of person keeps digging when they hit rock bottom?
Well, apparently... One who's told to...
Again, wish you were here.
Live.
Love.
Both of which?
...Yourself.
- Christoph "PunkerSlut" Leon
I guess I should have known all along.
Can people change?
I won't generalize.
I suppose some people can.
I sure as fuck can.
But then there's some people out there who try to fuck with you.
They lie. They say they've changed, but really they've just faked who they really are.
Does that make them bad people? No. Just kind of makes them fucking losers who need to grow up. But they'll say they've grown up. Hell, they'll even think so. It's called denial. Or delusions.
Immature. Fake. Dishonest.
No thanks.
I'm done.
I had enough of that with highschool, no need to drag it with me.
And they'll probably say the same thing.
It used to be so fun, so much in common. But I realize now that these people emulate whatever is an attractive lifestyle within a close radius because they lack the ability to think for themselves. They get tattoos that other people have, dress whatever will get them the most attention, try way too hard to hang around with whoever will make them look better.
And I realize now that I was only around these people to try to help them. Out of pity. Out of habit. Out of the goodness in my heart.
Then they take said goodness and fuck with it.
They'll try hard to show you how better off they are without you, how much happier they are in life now that they have someone with one more beneficial trait. Or the old things they used to "love about you", are now the opposite. Turns out they love the stereotypical shit afterall. No matter how much your unique ________ made them ________, as soon as there's any sign of conflict, they're making sure there's evidence for you to see that they've been lying all along.
These people change their mind like the weather. Whatever makes them seem happier at that point in time.
Nothings worse than faking that you're happy.
Whether you're trying to convince yourself, or others, you're a waste of a human life until you quit convincing and start living.
Always taking the easy route.
Always cuttin' corners.
Always doing what's best for the now, not for the rest of their life.
(And I thought I was living in the moment! Haha! At least I'm not self-desctructive. I live. I love. To the fullest. Everyday. I'm genuinely happy.)
Instead of showing it off and trying too hard, why not "be it", instead of "looking like it"?
Grow up. Be yourself. For yourself. By yourself.
There's more to life than pity, sympathy and pettiness. And trust me, it's fucking beautiful on the other side, over here, next to me.
Waste your time doing things "cause they did it".
It's all a matter of perspective.
"If they jumped off a bridge, would you do it too?"
I honestly don't know what your fucking answer would be, haha!
"An eye for an eye, and we'll all be blind."
You got a lot of growing up to do.
And to be honest, I don't see it fucking happening.
You still fuck for attention.
You still fuck for reassurance.
You drink to fit in.
Nothing wrong with conforming, as long as it isn't for all the wrong reasons.
I don't regret you. I fucking pity you. You're a fuckin' terrible trainwreck I can't take my eyes off of, but at the same time, I don't wanna see.
I sincerely feel so... so sorry for you.
I'm not being negative, or insulting here. I really, really, sincerely do, from the bottom of my heart.
To see you... Let alone any human being in such a sorry state... It honestly... honestly brings me close to tears. I want to cry for you...
But everytime I get that urge, you fuckin' spin around and give me a large dose of "life's so good"... And you're so lost and tangled in your web of bullshit lies, that you almost convince me as well.
I don't have to say "go fuck yourself". You're doing it already.
You're so transparent. Not always a bad thing. Just a pitiful one in this case. Well... I guess it is a bad thing if your intentions are bad.
You didn't turn into everything you said you're not. You were it all along, and slapped on a lot of make-up to hide it.
You traded love for glamour. You traded sincerity for daterape. You traded substance for flash. You traded heart for attention.
You traded everything for nothing.
So go ahead...
Take silly little photographs of your boyfriend with clawmarks on his lame tattoos. Boast to everybody your ex knows about how awesome he is. Hang out with people who go clubbing at bars where people pretend they don't want to be dateraped. Party the most. Do more drugs. Drink more. Buy more clothes. Try to look prettier. Listen to the trendiest music. Ride shotgun in really fast cars. Tell more than one person that they mean more than anyone else to you, all at the same time. Say "I Love You" when you don't mean it. Fake interest to fit in. Do what you do best: fake and lie and submit and obey. Take poor-quality, sleazy pictures of parts of you that would bring attention to you. 'Cause hey, negative attention is better than no attention, right? Be alone, pretend you're not. Kid yourself that you're appreciated.
Go ahead. It's all yours.
There's more to life.
And I don't have to take a picture of it to prove that I'm happy, because being balls-deep in it twenty-four-fucking-seven is way more fun and fulfilling than wasting my time playing show-and-tell with all the people who still think life is a competition.
I'm better than you.
I'm happier than you.
I fucking mean it when I say "I wish you were here..."
For your sake...
The weather's always beautiful up here, and I can't be bothered to look so far down anymore to keep checking up on you.
So my chin's up.
And the sun is shining.
How dark is it down there?
Is it lonely?
What kind of person keeps digging when they hit rock bottom?
Well, apparently... One who's told to...
Again, wish you were here.
Live.
Love.
Both of which?
...Yourself.
- Christoph "PunkerSlut" Leon
I fuckin' love all my friends.
I've been writing SO much poetry lately.
None of it is good, but still. I like hearing what people have to think about it.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
She's a series of fuck ups.
A neverending beat of constant mistakes.
Each one of her intentions is a mass-produced vehicle flying down the highway that is her own life.
"The Highway To Hell"
No, not quite, just her own...
Swerving out of control, fishtailing, into oncoming traffic.
Collision course with another plan. Another motive. Another great idea.
Making a pile of twisted fucking metal, a little blood in between.
Like a sandwich for a giant, evil, robot dinosaur.
The first crash, causes the next, and the next and the next...
It's a pile-up, kilometres long.
As far as the eye can see.
And up here, in my AWOL-1 Traffic Copter...
Above it all.
Watching safely from the skies.
I can see no end.
It stretches beyond all roads, into parks, into homes, into the ocean.
As you hear my traffic report, over your smashed dashboard radio, description becomes an impossibility.
Because from up here it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
I don't want to waste my time telling all you how gorgeous it is from up here.
I want to soak it all in.
My traffic report will be the last words you'll ever hear as you join the inevitable fate as this one girl's global pile-up.
But you aren't going to hear much.
I'm still stuck, slackjawed and staring.
At...
Man can make something that...
Many people drive...
(Are behind the wheel of, in control of)
And the ones that don't are still claimed victim.
Something man-made can create something to destructive, yet so beautiful...
Blessed I, lucky me.
I got a special point of view.
Front row seats to the most beautiful of all ugly caucophany's.
A special intimite acoustic performance of one persons personal Grim Reaper.
His poorly written neverending encore.
Man can make something for their own use, and it fucking consumes them.
Popping pills instead of exercising,
Knowing that nothing in life is this easy,
Knowing that one day it'll come back to haunt them.
And haunt them it shall...
Haunt us all, it will.
A seed planted from the devil, finally starts to bloom.
The world's surface erupts into a sheet of metal.
The metal piles up, with a hue crimson iridescence.
The metal stack and piles up, constantly moving outward,
Blossoming.
Feels like it's reaching for me.
Failed grasping with, jagged open claws.
With me or without, it's going to keep on growing...
But those anti-lock brakes were supposed to work.
The airbags were supposed to deploy.
She thought the framework was stronger.
If only that first car...
"If only everything."
And my trusty AWOL-1 copter wants in.
Running out of gas.
Going to have to land.
Probably a crash landing, not that it'll make any difference.
But until then...
It's fucking beautiful.
I'm going down, probably goin' out too...
But it's so fucking beautiful.
And the haunting is one you wish you had your fucking camera-phone for.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
What'd you think?
Love you all!
Take care of yourselves, y'hear?
Live. Love.
- PunkerSlut
I've been writing SO much poetry lately.
None of it is good, but still. I like hearing what people have to think about it.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
She's a series of fuck ups.
A neverending beat of constant mistakes.
Each one of her intentions is a mass-produced vehicle flying down the highway that is her own life.
"The Highway To Hell"
No, not quite, just her own...
Swerving out of control, fishtailing, into oncoming traffic.
Collision course with another plan. Another motive. Another great idea.
Making a pile of twisted fucking metal, a little blood in between.
Like a sandwich for a giant, evil, robot dinosaur.
The first crash, causes the next, and the next and the next...
It's a pile-up, kilometres long.
As far as the eye can see.
And up here, in my AWOL-1 Traffic Copter...
Above it all.
Watching safely from the skies.
I can see no end.
It stretches beyond all roads, into parks, into homes, into the ocean.
As you hear my traffic report, over your smashed dashboard radio, description becomes an impossibility.
Because from up here it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
I don't want to waste my time telling all you how gorgeous it is from up here.
I want to soak it all in.
My traffic report will be the last words you'll ever hear as you join the inevitable fate as this one girl's global pile-up.
But you aren't going to hear much.
I'm still stuck, slackjawed and staring.
At...
Man can make something that...
Many people drive...
(Are behind the wheel of, in control of)
And the ones that don't are still claimed victim.
Something man-made can create something to destructive, yet so beautiful...
Blessed I, lucky me.
I got a special point of view.
Front row seats to the most beautiful of all ugly caucophany's.
A special intimite acoustic performance of one persons personal Grim Reaper.
His poorly written neverending encore.
Man can make something for their own use, and it fucking consumes them.
Popping pills instead of exercising,
Knowing that nothing in life is this easy,
Knowing that one day it'll come back to haunt them.
And haunt them it shall...
Haunt us all, it will.
A seed planted from the devil, finally starts to bloom.
The world's surface erupts into a sheet of metal.
The metal piles up, with a hue crimson iridescence.
The metal stack and piles up, constantly moving outward,
Blossoming.
Feels like it's reaching for me.
Failed grasping with, jagged open claws.
With me or without, it's going to keep on growing...
But those anti-lock brakes were supposed to work.
The airbags were supposed to deploy.
She thought the framework was stronger.
If only that first car...
"If only everything."
And my trusty AWOL-1 copter wants in.
Running out of gas.
Going to have to land.
Probably a crash landing, not that it'll make any difference.
But until then...
It's fucking beautiful.
I'm going down, probably goin' out too...
But it's so fucking beautiful.
And the haunting is one you wish you had your fucking camera-phone for.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
What'd you think?
Love you all!
Take care of yourselves, y'hear?
Live. Love.
- PunkerSlut
Happy Saint Fucking Patricks Motherfucking Day...
I'm fucking serious, when I mean I'm not coming back.
I'm gonna get so drunk, I'm going to fall off...
I'm REALLY going to fall off...
Want to hear some of the shit I'll be slurring tonight?
Here you go...
_______________________________________________________________________________________
I play in a band, we're the best in the land
We're big in both Chelsea and France
I play one mean guitar and then score at the bar
There's a line of chicks waiting for their chance
So come on now honey, I'll make you feel pretty
These other gals mean nothing to me
Let's finish these drinks and be gone for the night
"Cause I'm more than a handful, you'll see
So kiss me I'm shitfaced
I'm soaked I'm soiled and brown
In the trousers, she kissed me
And I only bought her one round
So kiss me I'm shitfaced
I'm soaked I'm soiled and brown
In the trousers, she kissed me
And I only bought her one round
I can bench-press a car, I'm an ex-football star
With degrees from both Harvard and Yale
Girls just can't keep uo, I'm a real love machine
I've had far better sex while in jail!
I've designed the Sears Tower, I make two grand an hour
I cook the world's best Duck Flambe
I'll take the pick of the litter, girls jockey for me
I don't need these lines to get laid
So kiss me I'm shitfaced
I'm soaked I'm soiled and brown
In the trousers, she kissed me
And I only bought her one round
I'm a man of the night, a real ladies delight
See my figure was chiseled from stone
One more for the gal then I'll escort her home
Come last call I'm never alone
I've a house on the hill with a red waterbed
That puts Hugh Heffner's mansion to shame
With girls by the pool and Italian sports cars
I'm just here in this dump for the game...
So kiss me I'm shitfaced
I'm soaked I'm soiled and brown
In the trousers, she kissed me
And I only bought her one round
I'm a pitiful sight, and I ain't all that bright
I'm definitely not chiseled from stone
I'm a cheat and a liar, no woman's desire
I'll probably die cold and alone...
...but just give me a chance, 'cause deep down inside
I swear I've got a big heart of gold
I'm a monogamous man, no more one night stands
Come on honey, let me take you home.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
You'll have to excuse me, I'm not at my best
I've been gone for a month, I've been drunk since I left
These so-called vacations will soon be my death
I'm so sick from the drink I need home for a rest.
We arrived in December and London was cold
We stayed in the bars along Charing Cross Road
We never saw nothin' but brass taps and oak
Kept a shine on the bar with the sleeves of our coats
CHORUS:
You'll have to excuse me, I'm not at my best
I've been gone for a week
I've been drunk since I left
And these so-called vacations
Will soon be my death
I'm so sick from the drink
I need home for a rest
Take me home....
Euston Station the train journey North
In the buffet car we lurched back and forth
Past old crooked dykes through Yorkshire's green fields
We were flung into dance as the train jigged and reeled
By the light of the moon, she'd drift through the streets
A rare old perfume, so seductive and sweet
She'd tease us and flirt, as the pubs all closed down
Then walk us on home and deny us a round
You'll have to excuse me, I'm not at my best
I've been gone for a month
I've been drunk since I left
And these so-called vacations
Will soon be my death
I'm so sick from the drink
I need home for a rest
Take me home....
The gas heater's empty, it's damp as a tomb
The spirits we drank now ghosts in the room
I'm knackered again, come on sleep take me soon
And don't lift up my head 'till the the twelve bells at noon
You'll have to excuse me, I'm not at my best
I've been gone for a month
I've been drunk since I left
And these so-called vacations
Will soon be my death
I'm so sick from the drink
I need home for a rest
Take me home....
__________________________________________________________________________________________
You got your hair permed,
You got your red dress on,
Screamin that second gear was such a turn-on.
And the fog forming on my window
Tells me that the mornings here
And youll be gone before too long...
Who taught you those new tricks?
Damn, I shouldnt start that talk...
But life is one big question when your starin at the clock.
...and the answers always waiting at the liqour store 40oz to freedom
So I take that walk
And I know that
Ooohhh.... Im not goin back
Ohhh, not going back
Ohh, God knows, Im not going back
Oooohhhh, not goin
(hey man, anyone wanna make a run down to am/pm with me? its like quarter-to right
Now bro. shit, can you like, loan me like, a buck or two dude? jai said he was gonna be
Here around 2:00 I havnt even seen him. just totally broke, man owes me twenty
Bucks man. get over it, fuck, sorry! Im not dealin with that fuckin chince no more.
Take those bottles back eric? )
And you look so fine
When you lie, it just dont show
But I know which way the wind blows
A 40oz to freedom is the only chance I have
To feel good even though I feel bad
And I know that
Ooohhh... Im not goin back
Ohh, Im not goin back
Ohh, God knows, Im not going back
Ohhh, im... not goin
Ooohhh....Im not goin back
Ohh, Im not goin back
Ohh, God knows, Im not going back
Ohhh, im...not goin
I got a whole one left in the freezer
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Have you ever stopped to think about what rats do for fun?
Sure they crawl around and scurry,
yeah they're always on the run but a rat sure likes a good time
just like you and me
I'll prove it with a tale about a rat-infested brewery
It started with a little lad named vermin McCann
who fell upon a drink that made him feel like quite a man
he gathered up his furry boys,
though some wore a frown
they quickly changed their tune and they slammed a couple down.
Chorus:
One, two, one-two-three-four!
Come on all you good rats
we'll send you to heaven you'll find the pearly gates in the froth and the foam
'cause in these vats you've made quite a creation
a potion that turned the Guinness to gold!
Like mice behind a piper,
rats from all around soon headed for this factory in old Dublin Town.
They surely heard the news about this fancy new rat-brew they come,
they saw, they had a taste and knocked back a few
The rats were in a tizzy
addicted to the bone the hairy lugs were giddy
they were never going home
like a bunch of drunken pirates prepared to walk the plank they drank,
they sang, they took a plunge and in the beer they sank!
__________________________________________________________________________________________
When you grab a hold of me
You tell me that I'll never be set free
I'm a parasite,
creep and crawl I step into the night.
Two pints of booze
Tell me are you a badfish too? Are you a badfish too?
Ain't got no money to spend
I know the night will never end
Lord knows I'm weak
Won't somebody get me off of this reef
Baby your a big blue whale
Grab the reef when all duck diving fails
I swim but wish I never learned
The water's too polluted with germs
I dive deep when it's ten feet overhead
Grab the reef underneath my bed
Ain't got no quarrels with god Ain't got no time to grow old
Lord knows I'm weak
Won't somebody get me off of this reef
Ain't got no quarrels with God Ain't got no time to grow old
Lord knows I'm weak
Won't somebody get me off of this reef
__________________________________________________________________________________________
I don't drink too often.
But when I do.
I drink to not come back.
And I'm gonna fall off.
I swear I fucking am.
Be safer than me, lovelies!
Fuck tryin' to remember! Let's drink to forget!Live. Love.
- PunkerSlut
I'm fucking serious, when I mean I'm not coming back.
I'm gonna get so drunk, I'm going to fall off...
I'm REALLY going to fall off...
Want to hear some of the shit I'll be slurring tonight?
Here you go...
_______________________________________________________________________________________
I play in a band, we're the best in the land
We're big in both Chelsea and France
I play one mean guitar and then score at the bar
There's a line of chicks waiting for their chance
So come on now honey, I'll make you feel pretty
These other gals mean nothing to me
Let's finish these drinks and be gone for the night
"Cause I'm more than a handful, you'll see
So kiss me I'm shitfaced
I'm soaked I'm soiled and brown
In the trousers, she kissed me
And I only bought her one round
So kiss me I'm shitfaced
I'm soaked I'm soiled and brown
In the trousers, she kissed me
And I only bought her one round
I can bench-press a car, I'm an ex-football star
With degrees from both Harvard and Yale
Girls just can't keep uo, I'm a real love machine
I've had far better sex while in jail!
I've designed the Sears Tower, I make two grand an hour
I cook the world's best Duck Flambe
I'll take the pick of the litter, girls jockey for me
I don't need these lines to get laid
So kiss me I'm shitfaced
I'm soaked I'm soiled and brown
In the trousers, she kissed me
And I only bought her one round
I'm a man of the night, a real ladies delight
See my figure was chiseled from stone
One more for the gal then I'll escort her home
Come last call I'm never alone
I've a house on the hill with a red waterbed
That puts Hugh Heffner's mansion to shame
With girls by the pool and Italian sports cars
I'm just here in this dump for the game...
So kiss me I'm shitfaced
I'm soaked I'm soiled and brown
In the trousers, she kissed me
And I only bought her one round
I'm a pitiful sight, and I ain't all that bright
I'm definitely not chiseled from stone
I'm a cheat and a liar, no woman's desire
I'll probably die cold and alone...
...but just give me a chance, 'cause deep down inside
I swear I've got a big heart of gold
I'm a monogamous man, no more one night stands
Come on honey, let me take you home.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
You'll have to excuse me, I'm not at my best
I've been gone for a month, I've been drunk since I left
These so-called vacations will soon be my death
I'm so sick from the drink I need home for a rest.
We arrived in December and London was cold
We stayed in the bars along Charing Cross Road
We never saw nothin' but brass taps and oak
Kept a shine on the bar with the sleeves of our coats
CHORUS:
You'll have to excuse me, I'm not at my best
I've been gone for a week
I've been drunk since I left
And these so-called vacations
Will soon be my death
I'm so sick from the drink
I need home for a rest
Take me home....
Euston Station the train journey North
In the buffet car we lurched back and forth
Past old crooked dykes through Yorkshire's green fields
We were flung into dance as the train jigged and reeled
By the light of the moon, she'd drift through the streets
A rare old perfume, so seductive and sweet
She'd tease us and flirt, as the pubs all closed down
Then walk us on home and deny us a round
You'll have to excuse me, I'm not at my best
I've been gone for a month
I've been drunk since I left
And these so-called vacations
Will soon be my death
I'm so sick from the drink
I need home for a rest
Take me home....
The gas heater's empty, it's damp as a tomb
The spirits we drank now ghosts in the room
I'm knackered again, come on sleep take me soon
And don't lift up my head 'till the the twelve bells at noon
You'll have to excuse me, I'm not at my best
I've been gone for a month
I've been drunk since I left
And these so-called vacations
Will soon be my death
I'm so sick from the drink
I need home for a rest
Take me home....
__________________________________________________________________________________________
You got your hair permed,
You got your red dress on,
Screamin that second gear was such a turn-on.
And the fog forming on my window
Tells me that the mornings here
And youll be gone before too long...
Who taught you those new tricks?
Damn, I shouldnt start that talk...
But life is one big question when your starin at the clock.
...and the answers always waiting at the liqour store 40oz to freedom
So I take that walk
And I know that
Ooohhh.... Im not goin back
Ohhh, not going back
Ohh, God knows, Im not going back
Oooohhhh, not goin
(hey man, anyone wanna make a run down to am/pm with me? its like quarter-to right
Now bro. shit, can you like, loan me like, a buck or two dude? jai said he was gonna be
Here around 2:00 I havnt even seen him. just totally broke, man owes me twenty
Bucks man. get over it, fuck, sorry! Im not dealin with that fuckin chince no more.
Take those bottles back eric? )
And you look so fine
When you lie, it just dont show
But I know which way the wind blows
A 40oz to freedom is the only chance I have
To feel good even though I feel bad
And I know that
Ooohhh... Im not goin back
Ohh, Im not goin back
Ohh, God knows, Im not going back
Ohhh, im... not goin
Ooohhh....Im not goin back
Ohh, Im not goin back
Ohh, God knows, Im not going back
Ohhh, im...not goin
I got a whole one left in the freezer
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Have you ever stopped to think about what rats do for fun?
Sure they crawl around and scurry,
yeah they're always on the run but a rat sure likes a good time
just like you and me
I'll prove it with a tale about a rat-infested brewery
It started with a little lad named vermin McCann
who fell upon a drink that made him feel like quite a man
he gathered up his furry boys,
though some wore a frown
they quickly changed their tune and they slammed a couple down.
Chorus:
One, two, one-two-three-four!
Come on all you good rats
we'll send you to heaven you'll find the pearly gates in the froth and the foam
'cause in these vats you've made quite a creation
a potion that turned the Guinness to gold!
Like mice behind a piper,
rats from all around soon headed for this factory in old Dublin Town.
They surely heard the news about this fancy new rat-brew they come,
they saw, they had a taste and knocked back a few
The rats were in a tizzy
addicted to the bone the hairy lugs were giddy
they were never going home
like a bunch of drunken pirates prepared to walk the plank they drank,
they sang, they took a plunge and in the beer they sank!
__________________________________________________________________________________________
When you grab a hold of me
You tell me that I'll never be set free
I'm a parasite,
creep and crawl I step into the night.
Two pints of booze
Tell me are you a badfish too? Are you a badfish too?
Ain't got no money to spend
I know the night will never end
Lord knows I'm weak
Won't somebody get me off of this reef
Baby your a big blue whale
Grab the reef when all duck diving fails
I swim but wish I never learned
The water's too polluted with germs
I dive deep when it's ten feet overhead
Grab the reef underneath my bed
Ain't got no quarrels with god Ain't got no time to grow old
Lord knows I'm weak
Won't somebody get me off of this reef
Ain't got no quarrels with God Ain't got no time to grow old
Lord knows I'm weak
Won't somebody get me off of this reef
__________________________________________________________________________________________
I don't drink too often.
But when I do.
I drink to not come back.
And I'm gonna fall off.
I swear I fucking am.
Be safer than me, lovelies!
Fuck tryin' to remember! Let's drink to forget!Live. Love.
- PunkerSlut
SEPTEMBER 2007