sonofapunk

Wowee! Do I fucking love you all!

All the warm welcomes and everything, I fuckin' love you guys! I missed you all so much!

Life is good.

But more importantly, life's a little different...

I wanna tell you something. I don't care who you are, member, SG, or creeper, I want to share a secret...

I've killed a man.

He's dead. Because of me. I did it. I killed him.

I don't regret it either.

Am I crazy? No.

Fucker deserved to die.

I'm really happy I killed him.

Here's to someone I loved, but killed.

Kid was weak. If I didn't do it, he'd do it himself. Or natural selection or something would have claimed him.

I fuckin' loved him, but I hate him.

If it weren't for him I never would be the person I am today. And if I didn't make him disappear so nobody would ever see him again, I wouldn't be me either.

But if he never lived, I never would have learned to love. To live.

This kid taught me how spend my time on this fucking Earth.

Without him, I wouldn't have my motto.

You all know it, but in case you're new:

"Live. Love."

He showed me how to live, he taught me how to love.

He didn't really do it properly, which is why I took his life from him, but he had his head in the right place... Sort of...

Kind of up his big ass, but wrapped around the world at the same time.

He can fuck himself though. He let people walk on him. It really got to him. Then he'd crawl back to them and beg them to hurt him again. 'Cause he was fucking weak.

I did him a favour by killing him.

I'm not going to tell you how. And I'm not going to tell you anything else...

But I will say that I am glad he lived, and I'm glad he's dead. And I'm glad that I'm the one that did it.

Wanna see who I'm talking about?

One picture can't do shit against me. I have a nice, big, fat alibi.

Here you go, lovely spectators.

The man I killed (pictured on the left):







Rest in fucking piece, you fat fuck.
Thank you for living.
Thank you for dying.
Thank you for everything.
You're forever be loved, and hated.
Thank you.





In other news. I'm not really... Ummm... Well, I don't know. I'd say "myself", but I've never felt more like me.

I don't know.

I haven't had an orgasm in a month.

If you know me at ALL... You know how big of an epic fucking deal this is.

But for some reason, it doesn't feel like it unless I think about it.

That last sentence came out way more philosophical than I meant it to be.

Rad!

I haven't been spending any money except for the essentials. Some people may say "But Christoph, going to a show isn't very important!"

Yes it fucking is.

Hear me out...

I don't know what the fuck happened to me. I was drunk. I was punch drunk. From beer and moshing and trash-thrash-shred-skankin' all over the place. I was making a huge fuckin' ruckus, as per usual. I was supporting the shit out of my close friends' band. Their set ends, Jonny Abandoned lets out a giant scream, chucks the mic. I turn around to leave, and some chick is in my face.

"Hi!"

I was floored.

Being an idiot, and drunk, and beat up, and tired from a killer shift at work and then a nice fat mosh, I kind of just just went "Ummmm, hey. I need a drink." When really I was thinking "Shit, nice tattoos! Sorry, I'm a little retarded right now, please excuse me, but do I know you from somewhere? What is your name? How are you? What band are you here to see? What are you up to after the show?"

"Come with me!"

To where? Who the fuck cares. I remember I needed a jacket, she followed me to get it, then she followed me to pee, and then lead me on my way to wherever she was taking me. I don't even remember how long we walked for but long story short, she brought me to a park bench that had about nine average joes on it. They were mid-20's losers. They're really common, and they come to shows just to pretend they're having a good time by sitting on the floor at the back of the venue, or standing near the mosh to tell everyone that they were in the pit... Anyhow, nine baseball-capped-dress-shirted-blue-jeaned-running-shoed sat in front of me. I didn't understand why Little Ms. Awesome took me here, but she did. And begins the "rip on the loner punk kid session". I laughed with them and made their jokes extra funny by joining in and ripping on myself. To this they were confused. I told the chick that I needed beer and that she was more than welcome to join me. She wanted to, but one of the guys she lead me to frowned on this immensely.

So I take off in pursuit of more beer and friends. I asked around as to who the hell this chick was.

Nobody. Fucking. Knew. I had about 100 fucking friends at the venue and nobody knew this chick or anything!

So I looked for her, once my head was clear(er), and no avail. I looked and looked and looked. High and low, far and wide. Nothing.

Now normally, something like this would bounce right off me, I'd put it in my rather large mental-folder with the label "awkward/funny"...

But was it the booze? Was it the multiple blows to my head? Was it the music? Was it the atmosphere? Was it her pheremones? Was it her overall presentation? Was it even her? Was it just a perfect moment for me? Was it time for me and she popped up at the perfect moment? Was it the lighting? Was it the planets, chakras, and hormones and dimensions alligning?

...I wanted to be held by this woman, and die. Peacefully.

She was my soulmate for a moment. And I don't even remember what she fucking looks like, let alone her name.

Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.

Nothing.

I've been analyzing the situation in my head, over and over and over. And the more I think about it, the more retarded I get, and the more retarded the whole thing seems. But I can't get away from this damn woman in my head with the fuckin' inkjob on the right arm.

"The Further You Go, The Less You Know"

I don't want anything but clarity. I'm not lookin' for that soulmate or anything. I was smashed from booze and smashed from dance-fighting. I just want clarity. I want to know who she is, if she knows me from somewhere, why she approached me, if that dude didn't like me 'cause he was her man. Whatever. I just want more information.

And if I make a new friend, enemy, or lifemate, so fucking be it.

But I will not rest until I find this woman.

What I'm about to say is supremely embarassing... But in order for you to even fathom how badly I need to find this girl...

I made a fucking MySpace... If anyone knows me, they know how much I hate MySpace, Nexopia, Friendster, Facebook, BlahBlahBlahBlahBlah... It's all fucking trash. But the bands we saw that evening all have MySpaces. So maybe she's a member. So maybe I can find her.

Maybe maybe maybe.

Here's hoping.
Here's wishing.
Here's being more naive and unrealistic than I've ever been in my life.



And I've never been more whole.

Dreamin'.

I would like to take this opportunity to take a step back, as I often do, and soak in how fucking lucky I am to be here, typing this. If you go back in my blog, you'll see that this happens every so often... But goddamnit. What are the odds, that somewhere in the universe, near a small (in relation to the size of everything there is) gaseous ball that has been sparked up, some molecules on a rock, three rocks away, bumped into one another to form an element that will be the basis of all life. Life goes from single-celled-organism -...INTERMISSION...- all the way to me, percieving and sensing and reacting. A bag of meat and filth, and chemicals are bouncing into one another, creating little shocks and charges that are making me move my probe-like-digits on the other end of this bag of meat, in such a set, synchronized order that they bounce off of little pieces of plastic and metal, that creatures just like me, before me, have created, using other sets of molecules that have formed together to create plastics and metals. And these plastics and metals are sending super complicated messages over our creations of dirt-and-mud-turned-into-metal-strips to display these characters, on your personal complicated pieces of platics and metals, that your organs can recognize, recieve and decipher as a form of communication.

And you know what I feel.

It's amazing. We're breathing. Thinking. Using other elements to benefit us. All to finally take a step back and realize how lucky we are. How lucky I am. To be experiencing this electronic-to-organic stimulation, with other meatbags such as myself.



I am thankful.

I am happy.

I am me.

Live. Love.
- PunkerSlut