IPOD
RADIO
Okay, Frost, you sass-bag! I'll write a new one:
Ladies and gentlemen, I am done being intellectual on this site. This is no longer the place where I will put my art, in any form. Maybe I will. Who knows. But my main squeeze for doling out things I have in my heart and on my mind, is now my FACEBOOK PAGE! Hahahaha! That's right! Facebook! Am I lame? Probably. But I'd rather hear what all me little loved ones have to say about my poetry, songs, videos, and thoughts than a bunch of internet acquaintances... Don't get my wrong! I still love you! But the odds of getting any pussy from someone a million miles away because they think I'm smart are weaksauce. Haha! Just kidding! We all know I conquer pussy from all over the Universe.
But seriously...
Here's a taste of what you're missing
Tales about my trip to California!
The trying out of facial hair!
Hanging out with Steve Buscemi!
Liver damage!
Punk rock roadtrips all over the Northwest!
Weddings!
Teaching children about nature!
Bails galore!
Zombification!
Being well fed!
Highfives!
More liver damage!
Sodomy!
Pondering all of life's Tram-related-mysteries!
Intentionally lame MySpace-like photos!
Family bonding!
Dress-up baking!
Crabs!
Secret hobbies such as hairdressing!
Sing-a-longs!
Silly signs!
Mohawks!
Bass!
Pigtails!
Mark Hamill!
Reggae!
Punk!
Ska!
Poverty!
Hearts-in-a-jar!
A couple hundred girlfriends!
Baby animals!
Flava Flav!
More liver abuse!
And lot's and lot's of being wiggly!
How was that?
Incentive enough?
No?!
Well how about some random creative writing:
"These Godless Hours"
Well I've been in this very same position more times than I can count, and it's about time I wrote about it.
An ocean of little offline icons on all my little communication devices... It's dark out and I can count to what hour it is on one hand... I can go for a walk, or a quiet skate, and my existence would be null. I can do anything I want, right fucking now, and nobody would ever know it was me.
Thank God I'm a good person, because if I were fucked up enough to victimize anyone, now would be that time.
I could calmly and quietly try all the front-doors of my neighbourhood until I find one that's unlocked. I know which of you cocksuckers have dogs, because nobody seems to know how to keep canine's in line these days. I could waltz right in, take what I want, clean out your fridge, hold a knife up to your throat, plastic-wrap your toilet seat, rearrange your trinkets and doo-dads...
That bright-white glow eminating from your basement window, I can take advantage of that computer you leave on all night long every night. I can confuse any relationship with any random person in your life with an e-mail.
Hell, I can even provide you with a more stress-free lifestyle via feng-shui at these Godless hours. You'd never know the reason you know longer have headaches was by my hand, because some kid decided to fuck with your living-room decor while you were balls-deep in R.E.M.
High-Top Chuck Taylors are instant-ninja. Add common sense, a vigilant eye to detail, and a pair of Chuck Taylors (a pair of broken-in Dickies won't hurt either), and you'll never hear me coming. I'm almost six-and-a-half feet tall, and two-and-a-half bills (that's urban for "two-hundred pounds" (funny, Canada is all metric-metric-metric, but we so commonly use the imperial "pounds"... Hm.)), but I'm a fucking shadow.
Hell, the vessel I use to transport myself around this town is as silent as I am when I want it to be. With the right bearings and wheels, I can travel three kilometres in a matter of minutes without making a noise any louder or identifiable than the gentle yawn of your refrigerator at these very same moments.
About six times this very day, I was recognized by people I don't remember. That doesn't happen when the sun is this far away from me. The only biped creatures I encounter are drunks, junkies, and the extremely stressed out. (The ones that are not bipeds, usually are nocturnal and trying to snuff the domesticated neighbourhood critters. My neighbours have no idea that I'm the reason most of their kitties are still alive, because I find coyotes, opossums and raccoons fun to ridicule and terrorize and chase.) The drunks you find more often than any, the junkies are usually hidden but frequent, and the heartbroken, the insomniac, the depressed, the stressed... They are few and very far between, but I see them. I recognize the gait. Depression has a designated posture that is also synonymous with the feeling. Did you know that?
Depending on how interesting they seem, sometimes I'll observe. Very few things bless me with self-reassurance as the common drunk in suburbia. A very, very large percentage of people you encounter in Maple Ridge at the wee hours of the morning dwell on either self-pity or superiority. That means when encounter drunks between the age of sixteen to their mid-twenties at this time, you can almost guarantee that they'll be doing one of two things. Not to be sexist, but gender plays a great role in this...
Males, drunk, aged (approximately) between 16 and 26 years, between the times of 9pm and 3am: Testosteroned to the max. Looking for a fight.
Females, drunk, aged (approximately) between 15 and 25 years, between the times of 8pm and 2am: Drama. Drama. Drama. Drama. Drama.
Both of which feel the need to be loud, as a form of "peacocking". And both of which seem to gauge how much of a good time they're having by "Woooooo"-ing. They cannot seem to be enjoying themselves without first trying to convince everyone else that they are having a good time. (Oh, the club-goer's mentality!) I guess if I had no personality or character, I'd have to be obnoxious in order to convince people I exist. The self-despising and generic usually see negative attention as a plus compared to no attention.
Don't get me wrong, this happens in urban areas as well. But the amount of people minding their own fucking business compared to the suburbanites out here is much greater.
As lame as it seems, it's true: The amount of people you encounter out here at these hours seem to have more to prove than they have to give.
If they're lame, I'll skate right by them. If they seem entertaining, or interesting, I'll take on some stealth and observe.
Stealth is pretty fucking easy to exercise. Two really main key factors you must keep in mind when you want to be invisible: Avoid light displacement and facial recognition. (Do some psychology homework on these things if you want to be invisible.)
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not a "creeper" or a "prowler" or a "lurker" or a "spy". I'm just someone who loves to laugh and someone who loves to educate himself. I know what I can do, I know how to become invisible when I want to, and sometimes it's pretty damn humanizing to watch people when they think they're 100% alone.
You gotta take it all in stride, and then with a grain of salt. You can either lose faith in humanity altogether, or have said faith rekindled depending on what you see.
The same drunken jackasses who put on that big scary front and feel the need to out-do all others they feel are "competition" in a physical manner, can become the lamest of romantics in a heartbeat.
The same girls who he-said-she-said-he-said-she-said at the top of their lungs at 3am on the curb will become an emotional handrail for a friend or loved one.
God I love cellphones.
Middle-aged men at these hours are usually substance abusers or intoxicated due to temporarily abusing substances. Hearing the dress-rehearsal after dress-rehearsal for the confrontation with one's more-sober spouse upon arrival is always entertaining. Or hearing the one-on-one, confidential confessions to a drunkards convenient-at-the-moment's deity... Although mostly very fun, you gotta be careful. Even when they think they're alone, you gotta know when to back down and give a person some privacy. Some dignity.
One of the hardest things I ever had to force myself to realize... Is that sometimes you don't want to know everything.
All the while, I've discovered reggae-dub music is the best-ever soundtrack for night-time daydreams. The Slackers' album "An Afternoon In Dub" is a perfect example of this.
And if you got no music, take off your shirt or sweater or whatever extra layer you have handy, and lay it down in a field... Or at this hour, in the middle of a sidestreet road - it doesn't matter...
And look up.
There are no physical things in all of the Universe, in all of existence and infinity, than the Universe, existence and infinity itself.
The stars are stunning if you can find a place with minimal light-pollution. Hard to do around here, but you can manage pretty alright if the night is right.
Just look up.
My stars...
...They're beautiful.
But those stars, in all that possibility, all that space, all that infinty of wonder...
I want something.
What I'm hoping for...
Is someone like me.
An observer. A learner. A wonderer. A daydreamer. A shadow.
This isn't who I am during the day. Well, the majority of myself anyhow. Most of the time I'm really social and I try to help things and create and enjoy things hands-on... I've always been a learner and a dreamer... But I want another one... Someone I can share this with.
Someone who's interested. Someone who cares... Or doesn't! I'm not picky!
A warm soul, a cold soul. I don't care. I want to meet... a girl. Let's make her a girl. And I want her to share these Godless hours of the evening with me... Or morning... Someone to discuss and ponder with. Someone to talk to. A nighttime someone. Someone to share with. I don't care what kind of person they are as long as they share the same wonder and affection for the night as I do.
Due to my schedule, these evenings don't occur often for me anymore. But when I have the chance... Each time, I can't help but take a step back and look... Each time I realize how grateful I am for every little person, experience or thing, big or small, bad or good, that I know...
Oh, and you're welcome for Mittens' life.
Anyone else not afraid of the dark?
(That was the end of that random crap I wrote...)
Alright... So if any of you wanna be my internet friend... Over on my Facebook page is the place to do it! Just be sure to mention you're from SuicideGirls... Because I decline a bunch of random chumps daily... That's what being famous will do to you...
THIS IS MY FACEBOOK PROFILE! BE MY FRIEND!
Well...
That's pretty much it. Thought this post was lame? Blame Frost.
I will now end, with:
A Musicial Interpretation Of The Time I Thought My Friend Gave Me Genital Herpes!
Live. Love.
- Slut
Ladies and gentlemen, I am done being intellectual on this site. This is no longer the place where I will put my art, in any form. Maybe I will. Who knows. But my main squeeze for doling out things I have in my heart and on my mind, is now my FACEBOOK PAGE! Hahahaha! That's right! Facebook! Am I lame? Probably. But I'd rather hear what all me little loved ones have to say about my poetry, songs, videos, and thoughts than a bunch of internet acquaintances... Don't get my wrong! I still love you! But the odds of getting any pussy from someone a million miles away because they think I'm smart are weaksauce. Haha! Just kidding! We all know I conquer pussy from all over the Universe.
But seriously...
Here's a taste of what you're missing
Tales about my trip to California!
The trying out of facial hair!
Hanging out with Steve Buscemi!
Liver damage!
Punk rock roadtrips all over the Northwest!
Weddings!
Teaching children about nature!
Bails galore!
Zombification!
Being well fed!
Highfives!
More liver damage!
Sodomy!
Pondering all of life's Tram-related-mysteries!
Intentionally lame MySpace-like photos!
Family bonding!
Dress-up baking!
Crabs!
Secret hobbies such as hairdressing!
Sing-a-longs!
Silly signs!
Mohawks!
Bass!
Pigtails!
Mark Hamill!
Reggae!
Punk!
Ska!
Poverty!
Hearts-in-a-jar!
A couple hundred girlfriends!
Baby animals!
Flava Flav!
More liver abuse!
And lot's and lot's of being wiggly!
How was that?
Incentive enough?
No?!
Well how about some random creative writing:
"These Godless Hours"
Well I've been in this very same position more times than I can count, and it's about time I wrote about it.
An ocean of little offline icons on all my little communication devices... It's dark out and I can count to what hour it is on one hand... I can go for a walk, or a quiet skate, and my existence would be null. I can do anything I want, right fucking now, and nobody would ever know it was me.
Thank God I'm a good person, because if I were fucked up enough to victimize anyone, now would be that time.
I could calmly and quietly try all the front-doors of my neighbourhood until I find one that's unlocked. I know which of you cocksuckers have dogs, because nobody seems to know how to keep canine's in line these days. I could waltz right in, take what I want, clean out your fridge, hold a knife up to your throat, plastic-wrap your toilet seat, rearrange your trinkets and doo-dads...
That bright-white glow eminating from your basement window, I can take advantage of that computer you leave on all night long every night. I can confuse any relationship with any random person in your life with an e-mail.
Hell, I can even provide you with a more stress-free lifestyle via feng-shui at these Godless hours. You'd never know the reason you know longer have headaches was by my hand, because some kid decided to fuck with your living-room decor while you were balls-deep in R.E.M.
High-Top Chuck Taylors are instant-ninja. Add common sense, a vigilant eye to detail, and a pair of Chuck Taylors (a pair of broken-in Dickies won't hurt either), and you'll never hear me coming. I'm almost six-and-a-half feet tall, and two-and-a-half bills (that's urban for "two-hundred pounds" (funny, Canada is all metric-metric-metric, but we so commonly use the imperial "pounds"... Hm.)), but I'm a fucking shadow.
Hell, the vessel I use to transport myself around this town is as silent as I am when I want it to be. With the right bearings and wheels, I can travel three kilometres in a matter of minutes without making a noise any louder or identifiable than the gentle yawn of your refrigerator at these very same moments.
About six times this very day, I was recognized by people I don't remember. That doesn't happen when the sun is this far away from me. The only biped creatures I encounter are drunks, junkies, and the extremely stressed out. (The ones that are not bipeds, usually are nocturnal and trying to snuff the domesticated neighbourhood critters. My neighbours have no idea that I'm the reason most of their kitties are still alive, because I find coyotes, opossums and raccoons fun to ridicule and terrorize and chase.) The drunks you find more often than any, the junkies are usually hidden but frequent, and the heartbroken, the insomniac, the depressed, the stressed... They are few and very far between, but I see them. I recognize the gait. Depression has a designated posture that is also synonymous with the feeling. Did you know that?
Depending on how interesting they seem, sometimes I'll observe. Very few things bless me with self-reassurance as the common drunk in suburbia. A very, very large percentage of people you encounter in Maple Ridge at the wee hours of the morning dwell on either self-pity or superiority. That means when encounter drunks between the age of sixteen to their mid-twenties at this time, you can almost guarantee that they'll be doing one of two things. Not to be sexist, but gender plays a great role in this...
Males, drunk, aged (approximately) between 16 and 26 years, between the times of 9pm and 3am: Testosteroned to the max. Looking for a fight.
Females, drunk, aged (approximately) between 15 and 25 years, between the times of 8pm and 2am: Drama. Drama. Drama. Drama. Drama.
Both of which feel the need to be loud, as a form of "peacocking". And both of which seem to gauge how much of a good time they're having by "Woooooo"-ing. They cannot seem to be enjoying themselves without first trying to convince everyone else that they are having a good time. (Oh, the club-goer's mentality!) I guess if I had no personality or character, I'd have to be obnoxious in order to convince people I exist. The self-despising and generic usually see negative attention as a plus compared to no attention.
Don't get me wrong, this happens in urban areas as well. But the amount of people minding their own fucking business compared to the suburbanites out here is much greater.
As lame as it seems, it's true: The amount of people you encounter out here at these hours seem to have more to prove than they have to give.
If they're lame, I'll skate right by them. If they seem entertaining, or interesting, I'll take on some stealth and observe.
Stealth is pretty fucking easy to exercise. Two really main key factors you must keep in mind when you want to be invisible: Avoid light displacement and facial recognition. (Do some psychology homework on these things if you want to be invisible.)
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not a "creeper" or a "prowler" or a "lurker" or a "spy". I'm just someone who loves to laugh and someone who loves to educate himself. I know what I can do, I know how to become invisible when I want to, and sometimes it's pretty damn humanizing to watch people when they think they're 100% alone.
You gotta take it all in stride, and then with a grain of salt. You can either lose faith in humanity altogether, or have said faith rekindled depending on what you see.
The same drunken jackasses who put on that big scary front and feel the need to out-do all others they feel are "competition" in a physical manner, can become the lamest of romantics in a heartbeat.
The same girls who he-said-she-said-he-said-she-said at the top of their lungs at 3am on the curb will become an emotional handrail for a friend or loved one.
God I love cellphones.
Middle-aged men at these hours are usually substance abusers or intoxicated due to temporarily abusing substances. Hearing the dress-rehearsal after dress-rehearsal for the confrontation with one's more-sober spouse upon arrival is always entertaining. Or hearing the one-on-one, confidential confessions to a drunkards convenient-at-the-moment's deity... Although mostly very fun, you gotta be careful. Even when they think they're alone, you gotta know when to back down and give a person some privacy. Some dignity.
One of the hardest things I ever had to force myself to realize... Is that sometimes you don't want to know everything.
All the while, I've discovered reggae-dub music is the best-ever soundtrack for night-time daydreams. The Slackers' album "An Afternoon In Dub" is a perfect example of this.
And if you got no music, take off your shirt or sweater or whatever extra layer you have handy, and lay it down in a field... Or at this hour, in the middle of a sidestreet road - it doesn't matter...
And look up.
There are no physical things in all of the Universe, in all of existence and infinity, than the Universe, existence and infinity itself.
The stars are stunning if you can find a place with minimal light-pollution. Hard to do around here, but you can manage pretty alright if the night is right.
Just look up.
My stars...
...They're beautiful.
But those stars, in all that possibility, all that space, all that infinty of wonder...
I want something.
What I'm hoping for...
Is someone like me.
An observer. A learner. A wonderer. A daydreamer. A shadow.
This isn't who I am during the day. Well, the majority of myself anyhow. Most of the time I'm really social and I try to help things and create and enjoy things hands-on... I've always been a learner and a dreamer... But I want another one... Someone I can share this with.
Someone who's interested. Someone who cares... Or doesn't! I'm not picky!
A warm soul, a cold soul. I don't care. I want to meet... a girl. Let's make her a girl. And I want her to share these Godless hours of the evening with me... Or morning... Someone to discuss and ponder with. Someone to talk to. A nighttime someone. Someone to share with. I don't care what kind of person they are as long as they share the same wonder and affection for the night as I do.
Due to my schedule, these evenings don't occur often for me anymore. But when I have the chance... Each time, I can't help but take a step back and look... Each time I realize how grateful I am for every little person, experience or thing, big or small, bad or good, that I know...
Oh, and you're welcome for Mittens' life.
Anyone else not afraid of the dark?
(That was the end of that random crap I wrote...)
Alright... So if any of you wanna be my internet friend... Over on my Facebook page is the place to do it! Just be sure to mention you're from SuicideGirls... Because I decline a bunch of random chumps daily... That's what being famous will do to you...
THIS IS MY FACEBOOK PROFILE! BE MY FRIEND!
Well...
That's pretty much it. Thought this post was lame? Blame Frost.
I will now end, with:
A Musicial Interpretation Of The Time I Thought My Friend Gave Me Genital Herpes!
Live. Love.
- Slut
I don't even know where to begin...
I've done too much. That's it. I'm officially unable to blog. I am physically unable to discuss everything I do to a single person. My best friend/bandmate doesn't even know a quarter of the shit I do anymore, I love him like a brother and we hang out OFTEN but I can't even get out a quarter of my adventures and experiences with him, even if I sit there and talk about what I've done while I was on vacation. My family, the ladies in my life, all my beloved friends... None of them know me anymore. They know my personality, they know who I am, but it's impossible for me to begin discussing the why's and how's of how I got here, even when it's so simple as "What did you do yesterday?"
I'm making too many friends, I'm jumping on every opportunity, I'm making dreams come true at such an alarming rate I'm beginning to think I've become The King Of Cerebellar Fibres. I think I found something too. You know that whole The Secret theory and all that Law of Attraction jazz? I think people are taking what they're saying out of context... I think they presented themselves wrong, or phrased what they were trying to say on the whole kind of wrong...
I am kind of embarassed to talk about it, but I think I discovered a sort of... open mind. I can go on about this for fucking ever, but I got unpacking to do, and work to prepare for, and things that need cleaning. So in brief...
I don't have a formula, and I don't really know how exactly... But I think I found that if you're passionate enough, and you listen closely, but not focused... I think you can see and feel things coming before they happen. Almost every day now I'm noticing a series of highly related "coincidences" but chance and fate aren't that specific. Coincidence is chance and luck and randomly produced evidence that share likeness... I'm being shown something.
There is no fucking way, even within the infinite possibility of the Universe that the "random experiences and evidence" that has coincidentally presented itself to me in the most blatant and obvious of manners, is just chance, or luck. There is no... fucking... way...
And the more I look. The more I see, the more I listen, the more I feel... The more I'm gifted, granted and given. I don't know how, or even if I'm supposed to use this... But it's there. And I'm eerily frightened and intimidated. I've never been so scared to look within something my whole life. Usually I peer as far into something as much as possible to gain a better, deeper understanding. But with this, I'm afraid of what I might find.
Maybe people are conditioned to ridicule empaths and mediums and psychics for a reason... Maybe it's "taboo" for a reason... Maybe the rules we're taught in life about the basics of life, simply aren't. What if the "Paradox" was just another fear tactic that the tyrants in charge use to keep us from using something that will help us gain.
"It can never be, so why bother achieving it?"
What if time really isn't linear?
What if the understanding of the ten dimensions we have right now are taught in order to oppress? Or at least divert?
The old bait 'n' switch...
I'm gonna turn my brain off and listen to more ska and clean up some more before I go crosseyed. I don't want to think about this anymore.
Well... That's not true.
What I meant to say is I'm scared to do it alone.
- Christoph
I've done too much. That's it. I'm officially unable to blog. I am physically unable to discuss everything I do to a single person. My best friend/bandmate doesn't even know a quarter of the shit I do anymore, I love him like a brother and we hang out OFTEN but I can't even get out a quarter of my adventures and experiences with him, even if I sit there and talk about what I've done while I was on vacation. My family, the ladies in my life, all my beloved friends... None of them know me anymore. They know my personality, they know who I am, but it's impossible for me to begin discussing the why's and how's of how I got here, even when it's so simple as "What did you do yesterday?"
I'm making too many friends, I'm jumping on every opportunity, I'm making dreams come true at such an alarming rate I'm beginning to think I've become The King Of Cerebellar Fibres. I think I found something too. You know that whole The Secret theory and all that Law of Attraction jazz? I think people are taking what they're saying out of context... I think they presented themselves wrong, or phrased what they were trying to say on the whole kind of wrong...
I am kind of embarassed to talk about it, but I think I discovered a sort of... open mind. I can go on about this for fucking ever, but I got unpacking to do, and work to prepare for, and things that need cleaning. So in brief...
I don't have a formula, and I don't really know how exactly... But I think I found that if you're passionate enough, and you listen closely, but not focused... I think you can see and feel things coming before they happen. Almost every day now I'm noticing a series of highly related "coincidences" but chance and fate aren't that specific. Coincidence is chance and luck and randomly produced evidence that share likeness... I'm being shown something.
There is no fucking way, even within the infinite possibility of the Universe that the "random experiences and evidence" that has coincidentally presented itself to me in the most blatant and obvious of manners, is just chance, or luck. There is no... fucking... way...
And the more I look. The more I see, the more I listen, the more I feel... The more I'm gifted, granted and given. I don't know how, or even if I'm supposed to use this... But it's there. And I'm eerily frightened and intimidated. I've never been so scared to look within something my whole life. Usually I peer as far into something as much as possible to gain a better, deeper understanding. But with this, I'm afraid of what I might find.
Maybe people are conditioned to ridicule empaths and mediums and psychics for a reason... Maybe it's "taboo" for a reason... Maybe the rules we're taught in life about the basics of life, simply aren't. What if the "Paradox" was just another fear tactic that the tyrants in charge use to keep us from using something that will help us gain.
"It can never be, so why bother achieving it?"
What if time really isn't linear?
What if the understanding of the ten dimensions we have right now are taught in order to oppress? Or at least divert?
The old bait 'n' switch...
I'm gonna turn my brain off and listen to more ska and clean up some more before I go crosseyed. I don't want to think about this anymore.
Well... That's not true.
What I meant to say is I'm scared to do it alone.
- Christoph
HEY! I WILL BE COMING THROUGH SEATTLE, ROADTRIPPING ALL THE WAY DOWN TO LONG BEACH AND SAN FRANCISCO, AND THEN BACK TO SEATTLE! (In that order.) So if you wanna make a friend from Canada, let me know! 778 - 836 - 3783, and maybe we can crack a forty and swap stories or whatever. I'm hoping to make as many friends as possible, far away from home. Long Beach, Seattle, San Fran... Please be my friend? 
Pictorial Update!
Pictorial Update!
To those of you who said I'd never make it...
To those of you who said I was doing it the wrong way...
Fuck you. I made it. This is the life I've been dreaming of. I've been longing for the way things are right now.
I may be piss-fucking-poor. I may only have a handful of people give a shit about me. But I'm happy. And my dreams are coming true.
It's all just a matter of fucking time...
I do everything I can to make this world a better place. And at the time being, I might only affect the lives close to me directly for the better, but one day I will help change the world. Racism, sexism, homophobia, oppression, ageism... You will all fucking die before me. The people will unite. The truth will be uncovered. The world will be a better place.
The revolution is coming. My band, my writings, my actions... All of these things are modules I use to convey the message of unity, truth, education, and peace.
Live. Love.
- PunkerSlut
Hey! How've ya been?
I'm back. (I drank so much I actually went grey?! Did you call an ambulance?!)
Disclaimer:
I'm back. (I drank so much I actually went grey?! Did you call an ambulance?!)
Disclaimer:
If you can read this, that means I would really appreciate it if you were to check out my band, The Wrecktals! We just recorded a demo, and a couple tracks are up on MySpace, and then a track-or-two-that's-not-on-MySpace is on FaceBook.
CLICK THIS BIG PINK SET OF WORDS TO VISIT OUT MYSPACE!!!
We really wanna make friends with you! Seriously! That's one thing that a lot of bands hate... There's this nice fat fucking gap between fan and artist. Fuck that gap. Gaps need to be fucked. Fuck it! The Gap that is! So go there! And tell us what you think!
And if you are super-friendly and rad and awesome! You caaaan...
CLICK THIS OTHER SET OF BIG PINK WORDS TO VISIT OUR FACEBOOK PAGE!!!
And again, please tell us what you think! And if you know anybody who likes their punk and ska and hardcore... Please pass the good word on! 
Look! We're like Rancid! Can we have some street cred now?
Wigglywigglywiggly!
This band is my baby. We are going to be successful (in terms of creating that feeling in someone's chest when they hear that song they love, not successful as in money).
But like I said, we have a demo out. You pay $4 and you get eight (wicked-quality) tracks that last almost half-an-hour, some sweet DIY eye-candy, and instant immortality/karma! That's right! Everyone who buys our demo will have their name immortalized somewhere on the next release! So make sure we know who you are! We want to thank each and every one of you who actually listened to us!
We're playing lots of rad underground shows and we support all of those who make music for the sake of creation and expression. I've been to every fucking band I can imagine within 50 miles of me, so the favour better be returned!
My name is Christoph, but most people call me Slut (short for PunkerSlut)... And you can call me Susan, if it makes you happy... But on behalf of The Wrecktals, thank you for your time! I hope you like us!
'Cause if you read all this, it means we already like you!
Live. Love. Unity.
Wanna see something funny?
Hahaha! Here goes!
"Here's a true testimonial about this boy
I need not say man because he is the complete opposite of a man or at least what a man should be
I dated this kid quite some years and he was the worst boyfriend ever and worst ex for that matter always lying about me saying I cheated on him which I never did then saying that I have diseases
that I'm stupid which he even said to my face when we were dating along with every other insult you can think of he was always making me cry I'd call and he'd be with other girls telling me to just deal with it when I knew he was messing around with them
oh and the very same day he broke up with me because he wanted to mess around with girls
he had a threesome with two girls I was already suspicious of him messing around with
but oh I apparently had just been being jealous for no reason
he always tried to change me when there was nothing to change I don't feel like listing off everything it'd take too long and I'd forget some but my god what a mistake I made"
Alright... I'm going to start by saying I'm not going to waste too much breathe on this, and I'm not an argumentative person, so I'm going to type for the sake of both humour, and clarity (because I'm so fucking perplexed by some of this shit)...
First of all, whether or not you agree, my definition of "cheating" is... well... essentially anything considered morally wrong, anything you wouldn't do in front of your mate, or anything you wouldn't want your partner to do with you, all concerning a person of the opposite sex (assuming you're straight, that is).
This includes putting some idiot-who-isn't-your-boyfriend's dick in your mouth because you wanted a ride home. Hahaha. True story!
And I'll openly admit that I've said someone was stupid. I'll also admit, I find it ridiculously stupid when you find out your ditz-doughnut-girlfriend was pantsless in some other guy's bed drunk out of her mind "but she doesn't remember the rest", from someone who isn't her. Oh, and the whole while she "never told you where [she] was going, so it's not like [she] lied about it in the first place...".
I've never cheated in my life. I like to keep that higher ground. I wouldn't wish the fate that this confused ignorant girl put me through on anyone else but her. Friends, no matter their gender were there for me. Insisting that I had intimate relationship with thim because they were girls? I find that to be sexist.
I broke up with your dumbass because I was sick of you hopping on the drunken-slutty-bar-star-bandwagon that once swore was the most shallow thing in the planet, like the rest of your friends. You didn't think for yourself, you simply emulated those who you thought recieved the most attention. This coupled with the fact that you pretty much fooled around with, or tried to fool around with, all of my fucking friends I've ever had over the course of eight years. And when you finally learned that trying to sleep with my friends, I hear about it pretty quick, you ended up sleeping with randoms at bars. Word of mouth travels quick when you're the town bicycle.
I like the immature jealous assumptions that I dumped your ignorant and jaded ass because I wanted to fool around with other people. As if I'm that fucking one-dimensional! Haha! The sexiest part of a woman is her mentality... Hence another reason why you were no longer attractive.
Only someone as closed-minded and oblivious and deceptive as yourself would assume I left a relationship for something as petty as the one thing you think about.
There's so much more to life...
As for the "trying to change you", well you got me there... I guess it was too much to ask when I insisted that it was okay for you to become an honest person. I really tried to bless you with integrity. I really tried to make you worth my love. I guess you weren't the only one in denial afterall... I did try to change you. I was sick of you being a lying, theiving, slutty, attention-whore. And I can admit that.
You are the biggest Miss Take I've ever fucking met.
It's a shame you haven't grown.
I won't get back together with you this time for it, but I really pity you. You are seriously the most one-dimensional creature I've ever stumbled across. Everything you do is for image, and nothing for growth of being and expansion of mind...
Nobody is going to remember you once you're dead and gone if you spend more time talking about being happy than actually working towards achieving it... No offense, but if you spent half as much time applying yourself to a greater good as you did droning on and on and on and fucking on about how much fun a (midget) rebound with abs is, or how fun NASCAR is, or what tattoo you blatantly ripped off of someone you find to be more attractive than yourself - strictly for "bragging rights"... Welll... You don't have to be a fuckin' genius to figure that one out...
Don't you have a reason to live?
Or do you just lack a reason to die?
Hahaha! Here goes!
"Here's a true testimonial about this boy
I need not say man because he is the complete opposite of a man or at least what a man should be
I dated this kid quite some years and he was the worst boyfriend ever and worst ex for that matter always lying about me saying I cheated on him which I never did then saying that I have diseases
that I'm stupid which he even said to my face when we were dating along with every other insult you can think of he was always making me cry I'd call and he'd be with other girls telling me to just deal with it when I knew he was messing around with them
oh and the very same day he broke up with me because he wanted to mess around with girls
he had a threesome with two girls I was already suspicious of him messing around with
but oh I apparently had just been being jealous for no reason
he always tried to change me when there was nothing to change I don't feel like listing off everything it'd take too long and I'd forget some but my god what a mistake I made"
Alright... I'm going to start by saying I'm not going to waste too much breathe on this, and I'm not an argumentative person, so I'm going to type for the sake of both humour, and clarity (because I'm so fucking perplexed by some of this shit)...
First of all, whether or not you agree, my definition of "cheating" is... well... essentially anything considered morally wrong, anything you wouldn't do in front of your mate, or anything you wouldn't want your partner to do with you, all concerning a person of the opposite sex (assuming you're straight, that is).
This includes putting some idiot-who-isn't-your-boyfriend's dick in your mouth because you wanted a ride home. Hahaha. True story!
And I'll openly admit that I've said someone was stupid. I'll also admit, I find it ridiculously stupid when you find out your ditz-doughnut-girlfriend was pantsless in some other guy's bed drunk out of her mind "but she doesn't remember the rest", from someone who isn't her. Oh, and the whole while she "never told you where [she] was going, so it's not like [she] lied about it in the first place...".
I've never cheated in my life. I like to keep that higher ground. I wouldn't wish the fate that this confused ignorant girl put me through on anyone else but her. Friends, no matter their gender were there for me. Insisting that I had intimate relationship with thim because they were girls? I find that to be sexist.
I broke up with your dumbass because I was sick of you hopping on the drunken-slutty-bar-star-bandwagon that once swore was the most shallow thing in the planet, like the rest of your friends. You didn't think for yourself, you simply emulated those who you thought recieved the most attention. This coupled with the fact that you pretty much fooled around with, or tried to fool around with, all of my fucking friends I've ever had over the course of eight years. And when you finally learned that trying to sleep with my friends, I hear about it pretty quick, you ended up sleeping with randoms at bars. Word of mouth travels quick when you're the town bicycle.
I like the immature jealous assumptions that I dumped your ignorant and jaded ass because I wanted to fool around with other people. As if I'm that fucking one-dimensional! Haha! The sexiest part of a woman is her mentality... Hence another reason why you were no longer attractive.
Only someone as closed-minded and oblivious and deceptive as yourself would assume I left a relationship for something as petty as the one thing you think about.
There's so much more to life...
As for the "trying to change you", well you got me there... I guess it was too much to ask when I insisted that it was okay for you to become an honest person. I really tried to bless you with integrity. I really tried to make you worth my love. I guess you weren't the only one in denial afterall... I did try to change you. I was sick of you being a lying, theiving, slutty, attention-whore. And I can admit that.
You are the biggest Miss Take I've ever fucking met.
It's a shame you haven't grown.
I won't get back together with you this time for it, but I really pity you. You are seriously the most one-dimensional creature I've ever stumbled across. Everything you do is for image, and nothing for growth of being and expansion of mind...
Nobody is going to remember you once you're dead and gone if you spend more time talking about being happy than actually working towards achieving it... No offense, but if you spent half as much time applying yourself to a greater good as you did droning on and on and on and fucking on about how much fun a (midget) rebound with abs is, or how fun NASCAR is, or what tattoo you blatantly ripped off of someone you find to be more attractive than yourself - strictly for "bragging rights"... Welll... You don't have to be a fuckin' genius to figure that one out...
Don't you have a reason to live?
Or do you just lack a reason to die?
Fuck this. Fuck you. Fuck me. (Guess which I'd prefer?)
I'm sick of this fucking settling bullshit. I'm picky, and I have extremely high standards... But just this once, I'm not going to make any sacrifices, compromises or settlements. Fuck it. Girls are fucked. What I'm going to do, is instead of falling in love with the qualities a woman already has as opposed to what I prefer, I'm going to look for the qualities I already love, but am yet to find in a woman...
With this session of typing, I will create, and bring forth, a mate that is custom made for me. The words that I type will bring my deepest desires and thoughts into reality as opposed to a chemical reaction at the back of my skull... And so she shall exist... My destiny woman...
She will have a fucking mohawk, or liberty spikes, or insanely vibrant hair (or any variety of these things).
She will love punk rock music.
She will love ska music.
She will love reggae.
She will be into many things, with broad horizons and tastes.
She will show me things that are new to me.
She will love trying new things.
She will have an open mind.
She will be able to accept that (we all make errors, and) she's done something wrong, and although she doesn't have to like it, she can live with it, learn from it, and live more wise ever since.
She will know how to skank.
She will know how to longboard.
She will be covered in piercings that actually look good, as opposed "I need more body modification".
She will have beautiful tattoos.
She will be the most gorgeous woman I've ever met.
She will be so fucking stunning that everytime I see her, I will fall in love with her everytime I set eyes on her.
She will actually know how to be intimate.
She will not have a bad reputation.
She will not have a haunted past (not meaning events, but meaning how she's lived and learned since whatever has happened).
She will be honest.
She will be generous.
She will give as much she can give.
She will let me give as much as I can give.
She will enjoy incense.
She will like to eat.
She will know that there's more to life than personal gain, power and wealth.
She will be a social butterfly.
She will be street smart.
She will live on the edge, but know how to stay safe.
She will be a good kisser.
She will have an intolerance only to ignorant, intolerant, closed-minded, jaded idiots.
She will like to hold hands while skateboarding.
She will enjoy quiet time alone with me.
She will mean what she says.
She will have good judgement in character.
She will enjoy a good moshing, and also enjoy being right up against the stage.
She will respect a romantic gesture.
She will take things as they are, and if overthinking things is a necessary plan of action, her social behavior won't be affected to the extent of unnecessary conflict.
She will have reason behind her actions.
She will not have any random hang ups that require me to accept that there's a strange thorn in my side, and I'm not allowed to question its purpose or reason.
She will be willing to tell me everything.
She will know how to stand up for herself.
She will know how to stand up for me.
She will know how to moderate her consumption of intoxicants.
She will know how to be sexy.
She will know how to be cute.
She will know how to be formal.
She will have manners.
She will have a decent vocabulary.
She will have a decent harsh-vocabulary.
She will be all for unity.
She will be willing to grow and learn and expand her being.
She will be accepting.
She will fight for what is right.
She will know how to turn me on.
She will enjoy a foot massage.
She will express herself creatively.
She will enjoy infinite displays of affection.
She will give constructive criticism.
She will have dreams that are meaningful to her, no matter what social mode it does or does not fit.
She will fight to make her dreams come true.
She will be grateful for the little things she has/had.
She will be grateful for the big things she has/had.
She will wear Chuck Taylors.
She will be feminine, but not restricted to such.
She will appreciate the difference between a man and a woman.
She will laugh at everything possible.
She will be universal, but not androgynous.
She will love the beauty that makes us different, and yet all one.
She will flaunt what she has, but within reason.
She will have an affixation for dressing up, scooping any chance she can for a costume party, and impressing the shit out of people with her creativity.
She will know how to say no.
She will love to say yes.
She will have an opinion, and she will know when it is appropriate.
She will love the sun's warmth.
She will love the mischief we can get away with under the moon.
She will think outside the conditioned norms we are forced to think within.
She will exercise critical thought.
She will not be set in many ways, knowing that the human brain is always learning, growing and expanding.
She will know how to compliment people properly.
She will know how to say things to me to make me feel how she wants me to feel.
She will learn from her mistakes.
She will treat others how she wants to be treated.
She will be knowledgable in the arts of body modification.
She will make the harsh things not seem so bad.
She will make the days seem shorter.
She will make the days last longer.
She will tell me what I mean to her.
She will want to hear how much she means to me.
She will teach me many things.
She will learn many things from me.
She will be willing to fulfil as fantasies as much as she would dreams.
She will be in touch with reality, but know how to manipulate it enough to make it seem like fantasy.
She will be adorable and cute and innocent, and at the same time fucking brutal, vulgar and guilty (and she will know the balance between the two (and she will know when to sway one side or the other)).
She will enjoy showing me new things.
She will accept the fact that each individual is unique, and no matter how similar, people are different.
She will understand that everyone has a personal preference.
She will have a cute laugh.
She will laugh often.
She will enjoy my sense of humour.
She will be a good listener.
She will be a good talker.
She will tell me more than I need to know.
She will love staying clean.
She will love getting dirty.
She will enjoy that long, broke road-trips and vacations and adventures make you stinky and gross, and she'll long for the first shower on the way back.
She will appreciate the little cute, menial, endearing gestures I do for her.
She will be attracted to me physicially.
She will hate greed, but she'll never stop wanting and aspiring.
She will tell me her stories.
She will want to hear all of my stories.
She will be a woman of experience.
She will take the time to learn and educate herself about something before ever jumping into a commitment with it.
She will have a bold sense of playful spontaneity.
She will make me remember.
She will make me forget.
She will have a sense of mystery about her being, even though she'd tell you anything and everything you want to know.
She will love interaction with animals, no matter how cute or beasty.
She will have a heart for a lot of things most people don't.
She will hate hypocracy.
She will be completely devoid of unnecessary conflict.
She will be the most attractive woman I've ever met.
She will have a signature scent, whether she's stinky or squeaky-clean, I'll be able to detect her fragrance.
She will try to understand, and if she can't, she'll continue trying.
She will be a woman of wisdom.
She will be a collection of thoughts, ideas, theories, and dreams.
She will know how to handle negative issues.
She will have excellent control of her emotions.
She will never be afraid to let emotion show.
She will laugh in the face of danger.
She will "get totally fuckin' rad".
She will love to bake.
She will love to eat baked goods.
She will love candy more than any human should love candy.
She will appreciate the little things so deeply, it would seem as though she were sheltered her whole life (but she's not, just ever-grateful).
She will like vibrance in her life.
She will have an eye for colours.
She will make all the girls jealous.
She will make all the boys jealous of me.
She will make everybody jealous, until they met her, and then they'd appreciate her friendliness.
She will be good at talking to strangers.
She will make as many friends as possible.
She will recognize and exercise friendly duties.
She will love to imagine.
She will love to play.
She will have a love for the creepy, the mysterious, the paranormal, the eerie.
She will love the rockabilly, punk, and ska subcultures.
She will have a personal style that is unique to her.
She will live as much as she loves.
She will love as much as she lives.
She will be a good thief.
She will know how to tell a lie to get her out of trouble.
She will have a set of good, sensible morals.
She will never do wrong against another person, but will lie, cheat and steal from corporations.
She will cuddle me to steal my warmth.
She will cuddle me to steal my coolness.
She will cuddle me for the sake of cuddling me, no matter how uncomfortable our temperatures are together.
She won't get squeamish at silly nonsensical things, and know how to control her emotions and behavior around blood, sweat, spiders, vomit, etc.
She will hate violence.
She will have a broad sense of humour.
She will be sensitive and compassionate, yet desensitized to the harshness of reality.
She will be drop-dead gorgeous, but knows how make a lot of good funny faces for photographs.
She will be happy anywhere she goes.
She will do things to herself, for herself, by herself, but she'll never forget me.
She will independant, but prefers the company of others.
She will look extremely fucking good in whatever she wears, but look twice as good naked.
She will have an ever-expanding set of skills that will complement myever-expanding set of skills, and together we will be the world's ultimate weapon.
She will be a good teacher.
She will be stunned at what I can teach her.
She will have a sexy voice, unique to her.
She will always say what she thinks, but knows how to exercise discression.
She will know what to do and what not to do to avoid unnecessary conflict.
She will have the tendency to bitch and moan and complain as much as anyone else on this Earth, but she'll do so playfully, with a smile, half-joking her way through her issues so the world can never truly bring her down.
She will be able to recognize and avoid negative influence.
She will take care of her mental and physical well being.
She will take care of me, and let me take care of her (knowing that as much as it sucks, it's important to accept that even heroes need saving sometimes).
She will enjoy candlelight.
She will be supportive of all the little, seemingly-nonsensical things that make me happy.
She will know how to tear shit up.
She will know how to take it easy.
She will be able to laugh at herself.
She will admire me.
She will respect me.
She will bask in my respect and admiration for her.
She will never tell and excuse, only reasons.
She will take any awkward moment, and make it a comfortable one.
She will be obsessed with me, but she will not be limited to this.
She will have a life, personality and brain of her own, as much as I will be a part of these things.
She will make me feel appreciated.
She will make me feel worthy.
She will make me feel special.
She will make me feel more.
She will be just as happy dirt poor as she would be filthy rich.
She will know the meaning of life.
She will know the secrets of happiness.
She will know what love is.
She will make the hurtful things feel beneficial.
She will remind me of the things I forget.
She will love me.
She will be mine.
She will be.
I'm sick of this fucking settling bullshit. I'm picky, and I have extremely high standards... But just this once, I'm not going to make any sacrifices, compromises or settlements. Fuck it. Girls are fucked. What I'm going to do, is instead of falling in love with the qualities a woman already has as opposed to what I prefer, I'm going to look for the qualities I already love, but am yet to find in a woman...
With this session of typing, I will create, and bring forth, a mate that is custom made for me. The words that I type will bring my deepest desires and thoughts into reality as opposed to a chemical reaction at the back of my skull... And so she shall exist... My destiny woman...
She will have a fucking mohawk, or liberty spikes, or insanely vibrant hair (or any variety of these things).
She will love punk rock music.
She will love ska music.
She will love reggae.
She will be into many things, with broad horizons and tastes.
She will show me things that are new to me.
She will love trying new things.
She will have an open mind.
She will be able to accept that (we all make errors, and) she's done something wrong, and although she doesn't have to like it, she can live with it, learn from it, and live more wise ever since.
She will know how to skank.
She will know how to longboard.
She will be covered in piercings that actually look good, as opposed "I need more body modification".
She will have beautiful tattoos.
She will be the most gorgeous woman I've ever met.
She will be so fucking stunning that everytime I see her, I will fall in love with her everytime I set eyes on her.
She will actually know how to be intimate.
She will not have a bad reputation.
She will not have a haunted past (not meaning events, but meaning how she's lived and learned since whatever has happened).
She will be honest.
She will be generous.
She will give as much she can give.
She will let me give as much as I can give.
She will enjoy incense.
She will like to eat.
She will know that there's more to life than personal gain, power and wealth.
She will be a social butterfly.
She will be street smart.
She will live on the edge, but know how to stay safe.
She will be a good kisser.
She will have an intolerance only to ignorant, intolerant, closed-minded, jaded idiots.
She will like to hold hands while skateboarding.
She will enjoy quiet time alone with me.
She will mean what she says.
She will have good judgement in character.
She will enjoy a good moshing, and also enjoy being right up against the stage.
She will respect a romantic gesture.
She will take things as they are, and if overthinking things is a necessary plan of action, her social behavior won't be affected to the extent of unnecessary conflict.
She will have reason behind her actions.
She will not have any random hang ups that require me to accept that there's a strange thorn in my side, and I'm not allowed to question its purpose or reason.
She will be willing to tell me everything.
She will know how to stand up for herself.
She will know how to stand up for me.
She will know how to moderate her consumption of intoxicants.
She will know how to be sexy.
She will know how to be cute.
She will know how to be formal.
She will have manners.
She will have a decent vocabulary.
She will have a decent harsh-vocabulary.
She will be all for unity.
She will be willing to grow and learn and expand her being.
She will be accepting.
She will fight for what is right.
She will know how to turn me on.
She will enjoy a foot massage.
She will express herself creatively.
She will enjoy infinite displays of affection.
She will give constructive criticism.
She will have dreams that are meaningful to her, no matter what social mode it does or does not fit.
She will fight to make her dreams come true.
She will be grateful for the little things she has/had.
She will be grateful for the big things she has/had.
She will wear Chuck Taylors.
She will be feminine, but not restricted to such.
She will appreciate the difference between a man and a woman.
She will laugh at everything possible.
She will be universal, but not androgynous.
She will love the beauty that makes us different, and yet all one.
She will flaunt what she has, but within reason.
She will have an affixation for dressing up, scooping any chance she can for a costume party, and impressing the shit out of people with her creativity.
She will know how to say no.
She will love to say yes.
She will have an opinion, and she will know when it is appropriate.
She will love the sun's warmth.
She will love the mischief we can get away with under the moon.
She will think outside the conditioned norms we are forced to think within.
She will exercise critical thought.
She will not be set in many ways, knowing that the human brain is always learning, growing and expanding.
She will know how to compliment people properly.
She will know how to say things to me to make me feel how she wants me to feel.
She will learn from her mistakes.
She will treat others how she wants to be treated.
She will be knowledgable in the arts of body modification.
She will make the harsh things not seem so bad.
She will make the days seem shorter.
She will make the days last longer.
She will tell me what I mean to her.
She will want to hear how much she means to me.
She will teach me many things.
She will learn many things from me.
She will be willing to fulfil as fantasies as much as she would dreams.
She will be in touch with reality, but know how to manipulate it enough to make it seem like fantasy.
She will be adorable and cute and innocent, and at the same time fucking brutal, vulgar and guilty (and she will know the balance between the two (and she will know when to sway one side or the other)).
She will enjoy showing me new things.
She will accept the fact that each individual is unique, and no matter how similar, people are different.
She will understand that everyone has a personal preference.
She will have a cute laugh.
She will laugh often.
She will enjoy my sense of humour.
She will be a good listener.
She will be a good talker.
She will tell me more than I need to know.
She will love staying clean.
She will love getting dirty.
She will enjoy that long, broke road-trips and vacations and adventures make you stinky and gross, and she'll long for the first shower on the way back.
She will appreciate the little cute, menial, endearing gestures I do for her.
She will be attracted to me physicially.
She will hate greed, but she'll never stop wanting and aspiring.
She will tell me her stories.
She will want to hear all of my stories.
She will be a woman of experience.
She will take the time to learn and educate herself about something before ever jumping into a commitment with it.
She will have a bold sense of playful spontaneity.
She will make me remember.
She will make me forget.
She will have a sense of mystery about her being, even though she'd tell you anything and everything you want to know.
She will love interaction with animals, no matter how cute or beasty.
She will have a heart for a lot of things most people don't.
She will hate hypocracy.
She will be completely devoid of unnecessary conflict.
She will be the most attractive woman I've ever met.
She will have a signature scent, whether she's stinky or squeaky-clean, I'll be able to detect her fragrance.
She will try to understand, and if she can't, she'll continue trying.
She will be a woman of wisdom.
She will be a collection of thoughts, ideas, theories, and dreams.
She will know how to handle negative issues.
She will have excellent control of her emotions.
She will never be afraid to let emotion show.
She will laugh in the face of danger.
She will "get totally fuckin' rad".
She will love to bake.
She will love to eat baked goods.
She will love candy more than any human should love candy.
She will appreciate the little things so deeply, it would seem as though she were sheltered her whole life (but she's not, just ever-grateful).
She will like vibrance in her life.
She will have an eye for colours.
She will make all the girls jealous.
She will make all the boys jealous of me.
She will make everybody jealous, until they met her, and then they'd appreciate her friendliness.
She will be good at talking to strangers.
She will make as many friends as possible.
She will recognize and exercise friendly duties.
She will love to imagine.
She will love to play.
She will have a love for the creepy, the mysterious, the paranormal, the eerie.
She will love the rockabilly, punk, and ska subcultures.
She will have a personal style that is unique to her.
She will live as much as she loves.
She will love as much as she lives.
She will be a good thief.
She will know how to tell a lie to get her out of trouble.
She will have a set of good, sensible morals.
She will never do wrong against another person, but will lie, cheat and steal from corporations.
She will cuddle me to steal my warmth.
She will cuddle me to steal my coolness.
She will cuddle me for the sake of cuddling me, no matter how uncomfortable our temperatures are together.
She won't get squeamish at silly nonsensical things, and know how to control her emotions and behavior around blood, sweat, spiders, vomit, etc.
She will hate violence.
She will have a broad sense of humour.
She will be sensitive and compassionate, yet desensitized to the harshness of reality.
She will be drop-dead gorgeous, but knows how make a lot of good funny faces for photographs.
She will be happy anywhere she goes.
She will do things to herself, for herself, by herself, but she'll never forget me.
She will independant, but prefers the company of others.
She will look extremely fucking good in whatever she wears, but look twice as good naked.
She will have an ever-expanding set of skills that will complement myever-expanding set of skills, and together we will be the world's ultimate weapon.
She will be a good teacher.
She will be stunned at what I can teach her.
She will have a sexy voice, unique to her.
She will always say what she thinks, but knows how to exercise discression.
She will know what to do and what not to do to avoid unnecessary conflict.
She will have the tendency to bitch and moan and complain as much as anyone else on this Earth, but she'll do so playfully, with a smile, half-joking her way through her issues so the world can never truly bring her down.
She will be able to recognize and avoid negative influence.
She will take care of her mental and physical well being.
She will take care of me, and let me take care of her (knowing that as much as it sucks, it's important to accept that even heroes need saving sometimes).
She will enjoy candlelight.
She will be supportive of all the little, seemingly-nonsensical things that make me happy.
She will know how to tear shit up.
She will know how to take it easy.
She will be able to laugh at herself.
She will admire me.
She will respect me.
She will bask in my respect and admiration for her.
She will never tell and excuse, only reasons.
She will take any awkward moment, and make it a comfortable one.
She will be obsessed with me, but she will not be limited to this.
She will have a life, personality and brain of her own, as much as I will be a part of these things.
She will make me feel appreciated.
She will make me feel worthy.
She will make me feel special.
She will make me feel more.
She will be just as happy dirt poor as she would be filthy rich.
She will know the meaning of life.
She will know the secrets of happiness.
She will know what love is.
She will make the hurtful things feel beneficial.
She will remind me of the things I forget.
She will love me.
She will be mine.
She will be.
HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Oooooooooh man! I'm so unbelievably ridiculously angry! I haven't been this fucking pissed and fucking happy at the same time in sooooo long!
Fuck you.
You know who the fuck you are.
"I can't be with you. I love you. I am in love with you. But I can't work three jobs and go to school and maintain a happy relationship. I feel like I'm neglecting you and you deserve much better."
Haaaaaaaaaaaahahahahahahahahaha! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
You're so fucking diluted and a product of lame fucking conditioning... Whaaaat the fuck...
I don't even know where to begin!
Hahahahahahahaha!
You "love" someone, you make it fucking work. You make sacrifices and you make ends meet. Love is the meaning of life. You failed. I should have known something was up when you dump someone for an unnecessary amount of jobs to maintain a lifestyle that is so redundant, even you do not understand it... How is that "love". Something tells me you don't know what love truly is...
Life is not working to the brink of fucking tears. Life is not overstressing and overscheduling and over-racking your brain for the sake of "not being like my parents". Dude. I fucking hate my parents too. Trust me. I don't want to be like them probably a drastic amount more than you don't want to turn out like yours...
But...
"From the forest itself, comes the handle for the ax."
I'm not a fucking junkie. I don't do drugs. I never have. I'm going to treat everyone I know with respect and love and I can cope and deal with all of life's problems just fucking fine.
I am not going to turn out like them.
You're cute and you're adorable. But you're fucked.
Success isn't a measure of career, income or notoriety. Success is happiness.
Work yourself to death, see how much it pays off in the end. Nobody will remember your name. As tragic as it is, hard work gets you fucking nowhere (just try to remember ONE of the names of the unfortunate slaves and immigrants who built the CP rail which essentially built this country... Sad but true: you can't.). Smart work does. And part of working smart is finding "the path of least resistance". Like, come on! That's human fucking nature! Years of psychology didn't have to teach me that... Just fucking being and staying in touch with your central guidance system will tell you that.
"The harder you try,
The less you succeed.
Don't try at all and get everything you need."
And then the list goes on...
I was nothing but a stand-up-fucking gentleman to you, and even in the situations where I was pushed to my edge, I remained civil. I'm a fucking pincushion and a pascifist, but a chump I'm fucking not. I can take shit, and I do, often. But to err is human, to forgive is devine, and to learn from your fucking mistakes is... practical.
Fuck this and fuck you.
I at least deserved some fucking honesty, did I not?
You're still working as much as you did before, going to school as much as you did before... One-point-five months later: New Boyfriend!
Hahahahaha! Fuck trying to be friends with you dude. Seriously. Friends don't fuck friends over, let alone fuck with their feelings. Whether we once had a relationship or not, some common fucking courtesy is expected.
And then when I vent to a few select friends, some details come out the woodwork!
You never really were good at expressing yourself... But even one syllable fucking words can hold some fucking truth in them...
Who the fuck are you to criticize anyone's beliefs, let alone mine which are purely benefitial to the world and the lives of all that I encounter? Just because I'm happy doesn't mean I'm oblivious. I know damn well I don't make that much money. I know damn well I'm young and I have the whole fucking world at my fingertips. I know damn well that I can do anything I want. I know damn well that I'm smart. I know damn well that I can be successful at anything I apply myself to. I know damn well what the point of my fucking existance on this fucking planet is for...
Do you?
So go ahead and point your fucking finger. Behind the finger is a fool.
I don't give a shit how much fucking money I make, I have friends and family.
I don't give a shit how much advancement my job has in store for me, I have memories of all the shit that will only happen once in my lifetime, for the rest of my life.
I don't give a shit how many hours of overtime you and your lame money-hungry friends worked, I'm living life.
I don't give a shit how fucking far two people are, my love knows no bounds.
I don't give a shit.
There's more to fucking life.
Like how fucking one dimensional can you be?
Aren't you in touch with your fellow man? Our collective being?
What would you rather have:
1). A year full of memories, making new friends every day, creating beautiful pieces of art, visiting gorgeous fucking places, feeling the love that life's simple pleasures bring, basking in the love of others... Enjoying and creating and remembering experiences that will stick with you every single day for the rest of your life...
Or...
2.) An apartment that is sliiiightly bigger, or a car that is sliiightly faster than your old one, that you're able to afford as a result of grueling work and stress and blood and sweat and tears?
Shallow isn't a term for physical jadedness anymore.
I love how the chick that I didn't know in the least, ended up having sex with on New Years last year, and remained in touch with all the while was your sworn fucking enemy for the LONGEST time. You'd cry and vent about all the stupid shit she's done and how you can't stand that we've slept together and blah-blah-blah... And now... She's your bestest pal, hookin' you up with her friends!
Fuck you, and fuck her.
I am a human fucking being and my feelings are fucking valid.
My life has value.
Tomorrow is going to be the happiest day of my life. For those of you who think that might sound like a bold statement... You don't know me.
Tomorrow will be good. Tomorrow's tomorrow will be better. And from this day forward, just as yesterday's forward, and yesterday's yesterday had a progressively beautiful future ahead of it...
Things will get better.
I live and I love.
It's a shame most people don't...
Tomorrow comes today.
Live.
Love.
- PunkerSlut
Oooooooooh man! I'm so unbelievably ridiculously angry! I haven't been this fucking pissed and fucking happy at the same time in sooooo long!
Fuck you.
You know who the fuck you are.
"I can't be with you. I love you. I am in love with you. But I can't work three jobs and go to school and maintain a happy relationship. I feel like I'm neglecting you and you deserve much better."
Haaaaaaaaaaaahahahahahahahahaha! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
You're so fucking diluted and a product of lame fucking conditioning... Whaaaat the fuck...
I don't even know where to begin!
Hahahahahahahaha!
You "love" someone, you make it fucking work. You make sacrifices and you make ends meet. Love is the meaning of life. You failed. I should have known something was up when you dump someone for an unnecessary amount of jobs to maintain a lifestyle that is so redundant, even you do not understand it... How is that "love". Something tells me you don't know what love truly is...
Life is not working to the brink of fucking tears. Life is not overstressing and overscheduling and over-racking your brain for the sake of "not being like my parents". Dude. I fucking hate my parents too. Trust me. I don't want to be like them probably a drastic amount more than you don't want to turn out like yours...
But...
"From the forest itself, comes the handle for the ax."
I'm not a fucking junkie. I don't do drugs. I never have. I'm going to treat everyone I know with respect and love and I can cope and deal with all of life's problems just fucking fine.
I am not going to turn out like them.
You're cute and you're adorable. But you're fucked.
Success isn't a measure of career, income or notoriety. Success is happiness.
Work yourself to death, see how much it pays off in the end. Nobody will remember your name. As tragic as it is, hard work gets you fucking nowhere (just try to remember ONE of the names of the unfortunate slaves and immigrants who built the CP rail which essentially built this country... Sad but true: you can't.). Smart work does. And part of working smart is finding "the path of least resistance". Like, come on! That's human fucking nature! Years of psychology didn't have to teach me that... Just fucking being and staying in touch with your central guidance system will tell you that.
"The harder you try,
The less you succeed.
Don't try at all and get everything you need."
And then the list goes on...
I was nothing but a stand-up-fucking gentleman to you, and even in the situations where I was pushed to my edge, I remained civil. I'm a fucking pincushion and a pascifist, but a chump I'm fucking not. I can take shit, and I do, often. But to err is human, to forgive is devine, and to learn from your fucking mistakes is... practical.
Fuck this and fuck you.
I at least deserved some fucking honesty, did I not?
You're still working as much as you did before, going to school as much as you did before... One-point-five months later: New Boyfriend!
Hahahahaha! Fuck trying to be friends with you dude. Seriously. Friends don't fuck friends over, let alone fuck with their feelings. Whether we once had a relationship or not, some common fucking courtesy is expected.
And then when I vent to a few select friends, some details come out the woodwork!
You never really were good at expressing yourself... But even one syllable fucking words can hold some fucking truth in them...
Who the fuck are you to criticize anyone's beliefs, let alone mine which are purely benefitial to the world and the lives of all that I encounter? Just because I'm happy doesn't mean I'm oblivious. I know damn well I don't make that much money. I know damn well I'm young and I have the whole fucking world at my fingertips. I know damn well that I can do anything I want. I know damn well that I'm smart. I know damn well that I can be successful at anything I apply myself to. I know damn well what the point of my fucking existance on this fucking planet is for...
Do you?
So go ahead and point your fucking finger. Behind the finger is a fool.
I don't give a shit how much fucking money I make, I have friends and family.
I don't give a shit how much advancement my job has in store for me, I have memories of all the shit that will only happen once in my lifetime, for the rest of my life.
I don't give a shit how many hours of overtime you and your lame money-hungry friends worked, I'm living life.
I don't give a shit how fucking far two people are, my love knows no bounds.
I don't give a shit.
There's more to fucking life.
Like how fucking one dimensional can you be?
Aren't you in touch with your fellow man? Our collective being?
What would you rather have:
1). A year full of memories, making new friends every day, creating beautiful pieces of art, visiting gorgeous fucking places, feeling the love that life's simple pleasures bring, basking in the love of others... Enjoying and creating and remembering experiences that will stick with you every single day for the rest of your life...
Or...
2.) An apartment that is sliiiightly bigger, or a car that is sliiightly faster than your old one, that you're able to afford as a result of grueling work and stress and blood and sweat and tears?
Shallow isn't a term for physical jadedness anymore.
I love how the chick that I didn't know in the least, ended up having sex with on New Years last year, and remained in touch with all the while was your sworn fucking enemy for the LONGEST time. You'd cry and vent about all the stupid shit she's done and how you can't stand that we've slept together and blah-blah-blah... And now... She's your bestest pal, hookin' you up with her friends!
Fuck you, and fuck her.
I am a human fucking being and my feelings are fucking valid.
My life has value.
Tomorrow is going to be the happiest day of my life. For those of you who think that might sound like a bold statement... You don't know me.
Tomorrow will be good. Tomorrow's tomorrow will be better. And from this day forward, just as yesterday's forward, and yesterday's yesterday had a progressively beautiful future ahead of it...
Things will get better.
I live and I love.
It's a shame most people don't...
Tomorrow comes today.
Live.
Love.
- PunkerSlut
I've come to the conclusion that I cannot be of this world. I am so easily entertained by the simplest of things...
What a fucking world we live in. We can manifest memories of our past by pressing a button on a robotic-brain, which shows us pictorial evidence of things that once were. I am so fucking grateful that we have this technology. I can smell the smells, taste the tastes, hear the things that were heard, see the sights...
Feel the feelings...
That have already happened. (What a fucking blessing.)
2007 was fucking insane.
I am not exaggerating when I say I am scared about 2008. I lived so fast through '07, and things are lined up to make '08 even more fucking insane... I'm scared. I'm excited. I'm anxious. I'm terrified. I don't know what to expect, but I know that it will be better, ever more positive, even more fun... And that's an intimidating thought.
They say too much of one thing is never good for you...
I tend to disagree.
What a fucking world we live in. We can manifest memories of our past by pressing a button on a robotic-brain, which shows us pictorial evidence of things that once were. I am so fucking grateful that we have this technology. I can smell the smells, taste the tastes, hear the things that were heard, see the sights...
Feel the feelings...
That have already happened. (What a fucking blessing.)
2007 was fucking insane.
I am not exaggerating when I say I am scared about 2008. I lived so fast through '07, and things are lined up to make '08 even more fucking insane... I'm scared. I'm excited. I'm anxious. I'm terrified. I don't know what to expect, but I know that it will be better, ever more positive, even more fun... And that's an intimidating thought.
They say too much of one thing is never good for you...
I tend to disagree.
Live. Love.
- PunkerSlut
Hahaha! So I thought I contracted genital herpes. And I was all jittery and scared, and thinking rather irrationally and negitively and erratically... And since the topic was Sexually Transmitted Diseases. I naturally began thinking about my ex, Jackie.
Man... That chick is fucked. Haha!
What being on Earth goes around convincing people that she is something, without actually living it? It's like a scene kid who never goes to shows, and drank beer once, and it's all they talk about. Except the topic is happiness.
How petty are you, that you have to sit there and try to convince the world that you're doing really well, without actually putting any effort into becoming well?
Law Of Attraction: These thoughts manifested a run-in... She didn't even recognize me, which is for the better. I can't stand her anyhow. But I thought I'd hit up her old SG blog to see what she's been up to. See if she's grown up at all, or anything... Fuck... Old feelings of pity, and sympathy almost crawled up out of my throat again, out of pure conditioned habit. And then I realize how manipulated I was for that 3/4 of a decade.
Who the fuck... Can cheat on you a billion times... And then convince you that you were in the wrong for each time... And then push you over the edge after years of keeping you unhappy so you don't gain enough self-esteem or confidence enough to even consider leaving... Pushed so far that you have to break up with her ass... (Check this out, she's supposed to be 20 when this happens: ) And then she actually gets her friends to call me, and ever-so-maturely, "Hey, is Christoph there?"
"Uh, yeah. Who's this?"
"I hear you have a small cock."
"...You got to be kidding me."
"I'm fucking your ex in the asshole right now. (Shhh! I'm saying it! Heehee!)"
"I bet I can guess which one!"
"Man, you're so gay. Hahaha! HAHAHAHA! Faggot! Hahahaha!"
"Oh hey, dude, wear a condom for that ass. I got the clap from that bitch..."
"Seriously, dog? For real? Damn..." (And then I hung up on his ass)
This happened several times, mind you.
Shit dude... Could you imagine something that fucking pathetic?
Yeah, me neither.
I must have been in some form of mental relapse, I had a break down, and imagined the most pathetic creature on the planet as my mate. Seriously... Something that fucking sad can only come from the depths of the human imagination.
They should write a fairy-tale about her. Everytime you read it, you'll walk away feeling that much better from yourself, no matter how shitty your life is...
The cruel side of me comes out whenever I think of her. I almost want to return all the stupid, evil favours she made me endure... But smarter.
And then I remembered the term "Natural Selection".
Oh dear Jackie... Keep writing about something you'll never understand: Happiness.
And life goes on.
Livin'. Lovin' (but putting perspective on negative influences!).
- Slut
Man... That chick is fucked. Haha!
What being on Earth goes around convincing people that she is something, without actually living it? It's like a scene kid who never goes to shows, and drank beer once, and it's all they talk about. Except the topic is happiness.
How petty are you, that you have to sit there and try to convince the world that you're doing really well, without actually putting any effort into becoming well?
Law Of Attraction: These thoughts manifested a run-in... She didn't even recognize me, which is for the better. I can't stand her anyhow. But I thought I'd hit up her old SG blog to see what she's been up to. See if she's grown up at all, or anything... Fuck... Old feelings of pity, and sympathy almost crawled up out of my throat again, out of pure conditioned habit. And then I realize how manipulated I was for that 3/4 of a decade.
Who the fuck... Can cheat on you a billion times... And then convince you that you were in the wrong for each time... And then push you over the edge after years of keeping you unhappy so you don't gain enough self-esteem or confidence enough to even consider leaving... Pushed so far that you have to break up with her ass... (Check this out, she's supposed to be 20 when this happens: ) And then she actually gets her friends to call me, and ever-so-maturely, "Hey, is Christoph there?"
"Uh, yeah. Who's this?"
"I hear you have a small cock."
"...You got to be kidding me."
"I'm fucking your ex in the asshole right now. (Shhh! I'm saying it! Heehee!)"
"I bet I can guess which one!"
"Man, you're so gay. Hahaha! HAHAHAHA! Faggot! Hahahaha!"
"Oh hey, dude, wear a condom for that ass. I got the clap from that bitch..."
"Seriously, dog? For real? Damn..." (And then I hung up on his ass)
This happened several times, mind you.
Shit dude... Could you imagine something that fucking pathetic?
Yeah, me neither.
I must have been in some form of mental relapse, I had a break down, and imagined the most pathetic creature on the planet as my mate. Seriously... Something that fucking sad can only come from the depths of the human imagination.
They should write a fairy-tale about her. Everytime you read it, you'll walk away feeling that much better from yourself, no matter how shitty your life is...
The cruel side of me comes out whenever I think of her. I almost want to return all the stupid, evil favours she made me endure... But smarter.
And then I remembered the term "Natural Selection".
Oh dear Jackie... Keep writing about something you'll never understand: Happiness.
And life goes on.
Livin'. Lovin' (but putting perspective on negative influences!).
- Slut
JULY 2008
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