futureloseroftomorrow's Xanga

Friday, October 10, 2008

Fri, 10 Oct 2008 20:43:41 GMT

xanga has become too counterintuitive. It took me a while to figure out how to simply add a new blog post. Not good.

I've moved on to another blog

http://obliviouspawn.blogspot.com/

an excellent explantion for laziness(don't worry, I don't need it)

Tue, 19 Feb 2008 16:18:05 GMT

You see, I am a scientist. I’m continually conducting an experiment that’s providing very exciting results with broad ramifications. Everyday, I sit on the beach and watch the waves crashing onto the shore. When it gets dark, I set up a hammock between two shady tress and fall into a deep slumber upon it. In the morning, around 5:30 am to 6: am, I am awakened by this bright circular shape in the sky. My hypothesis, if I sit on the beach all day and fall asleep in a hammock between two shady trees the sun will rise. I’m afraid to try any new experiments for fear that if I stop doing as I’m doing, the sun will ceases to rise. However, I’m quite content to continue with my current fascinating experiment, so I wouldn’t call the situation a dilemma.

Thursday, January 31, 2008

Thu, 31 Jan 2008 01:20:11 GMT

finely polished leather boots and tightly woven italian suits

suite this man and his pristine neatness as his rifle shoots

down all the beggars and the strikers and the scabs that turn away

at the sight of the picketer's crimson blood concrete stains

oh there's a flow of tears the scabs can't help to contain

broken glass, rusty nails, add to the hemopheliacs constant pain

and the soul of the former freight hopper leaks down the drain

he's mercury and salt in a solution, a puddle of flame soaking in disillusion

Thursday, January 24, 2008

Thu, 24 Jan 2008 16:51:39 GMT

she's served some mercury in a cup, she drinks the whole thing up, and sings a very unhappy unbirthday to herself

flees fly from every greasy dread, she talks to spirits in her bed, and asks them how they dissapate into air as dawn first strikes

Thursday, January 24, 2008

Thu, 24 Jan 2008 16:39:42 GMT

acid rain keeps falling on my head

it's no big deal, my eyes won't be burning red

and rain can go on falling because fallouts rather boring

because I'm chained, to satan's work out bench

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Wed, 16 Jan 2008 01:38:47 GMT

I stand before a field of burning cigarettes

sticking out of the ground

I joined a club that feels up pink laced marrionettes

dancing out of the clouds

my first beer as a 21 year old

Mon, 20 Aug 2007 17:43:57 GMT

Corsendonk Abbery Pale Ale imported from Belgium picked out by my cousin Chris, who runs his own pub, the stumbling monk, in Seatle, at the Big Top liquor on Round lake Blvd on Friday the seventeenth of august served as my first beer as a 21 year old. I'd describe it as a smooth beer with lots of head with a suprisingly light taste for it's alchohol content. I thought it was delicious last night as I drank it around midnight somehwere around the suggested 45 to 55 degrees. Those monks knew what they were doing. Too bad it costs around five bucks a bottle.

All I'm asking for is immortality, the ability to travel through time, eternal beauty, and a charmin

Fri, 03 Aug 2007 18:02:51 GMT

In a very close place, during very recent times, there lived a completely unremarkable twenty year old who's most striking characteristic came in the form of a great dislike of performing any task that might require anything more than a few seconds of effort. Naturally, he thought of himself as a true visionary and spent many summer night lying on the grass in his parents backyard imagining his prestigious future self. In all of these duskdreams, he'd overcome his apparent lack of ambition, work ethic, discipline, and talent because he was basically the greatest genious and prophet to ever have lived. As the ants tried to get into his pants without slipping a roughie into his drink, he was lost in a world where sloth was rewarded and cause and effect had very little relationship. Really, these features indicated he was lost in a world quite like are own only with a few slips of circumstance.

Sadly, his life was not all lying in the grass imagining himself a widely respected and powerful member of the community, and his mother was soon pushing out a rather irritating and mistakenly urgent amount of language from her enduringly large mouth.

"Did you remember to.................?"

"probably"

"what do you mean probably?"

"um..... I mean yes....?"

"I very much doubt that, you never do anything that I think is important"

"yeah, you do have your priotities screwed up, so I try to ignore them"

"devin! I've always hoped I'd done enough of a job of training you in decency to prevent such utterings about how I'm screwed up and I'm so stupid I should be ignored and that I'm nothing buy a giant mouth bellowing vapid thoughts wihtout end."

"ummm, I don't remember saying any of that"

"Devin, you have been taken your meds right. If you're not even awake enough to remember all the rude things you just said to me, maybe I should scheudule another appointment for you"

"well, I'm not quite sure how there are always a few pills left at the end of the month when I've been taking them on such a consistent basis, but I know I took them today. Look at the cup on the counter."

"Devin! you're such a slob, I'm gonna need to retrain you. There's at least five cups on that counter, and I refuse to believe that anyone but you has used them."

"you do seem to refuse to believe a lot of startingly obvious things, but in this case you've managed to guess correctly. You got lucky though, Jake just picked up his cup on the way to his bedroom."

"well, mabye if you think I'm such a bumpkin, you shouldn't rely on me to do so much for you."

"I never have, you've just wrongly assumed I need you to do all of these unecessary things"

"you might think things such as cleaning up after yourself are unnecessary, but the people around you surely disagree"

"it's just five cups of water, they're not going to hurt anyone"

"I'm just waiting to find a rat in your room"

"maybe if you didn't sneak in there so often, you wouldn't have to worry about it and I wouldn't have to attract rats with copious amounts of garbage to help me defend my space."

Devin's mom was still spouting off her irrational thoughts on such matters among others as Devin lifted the five cups and shoved them into the dishwasher his family had been blessed with. He decided that if he took the dog for a walk, he might be able to avoid the voice for a while. Napkins would enjoy a walk at this time of day, when all the creatures had started to stir being summoned by the final shifting pieces of daylight glowing over the horizon.

crushed baby bones make the concrete stronger

Fri, 03 Aug 2007 17:08:16 GMT

Sometimes, after drifting out of a deep immersion into the process of wasting my life through the playing of sucky sports video games and endless harmonic minor guitar riffs, I decide to do something useful for a change. Then I end up getting off my ass for about two seconds to realize that I'm tired as hell and end up resuming the practice of distracting myself from thinking about how much of a loser I am by doing things a loser would do. It's a vicious cycle.

I still don't have a job this summer, and that's going to make funds for fun hard to come by. I must make the argument that having funds for fun just distracts a person from studying anyway, just like friends, and therefore, I should avoid summer jobs and social interaction. In that case, spending all of my time in my sloth drenched room performing rituals essential to the cult of the loser must be the right move.

All play and no work make jack depresssed as hell. Then jack goes and isolates himself and that makes matters even better. Hopefully I'll be able to convert this jack fellow to my cult and steal what little money he has before force feeding him arsonic laced kool aid in cambodia.

I still have to write mari through snail mail. It's been so long since I've used that system of communication that the effort required to find an envolope, put writing into it, seel the envolope, address the envolope, stamp the envolope, and put the envolope into a mailbox seems an imsermountable obstacle. Obviously, the writing part poses no problem as I'm practically writing all of this garbage in my sleep, but the other stuf, well those are the kind of things I really suck at. I'd rather run twenty conseqeutive ten second spaced hundred yard dashes. I better have underlings to do that sort of thing when I enter the workforce, cause paper pushing is simply above me. Truly, it's too noble of a task for me. I'm better suited for shooting people, designing psych exeriments, blasting off fucking awesome guitar riffs, saying weird shit, and taking baths in chicken blood. If there are any career opportunities in those things, let me know, because I'm certainly interested even if I'm over qualified.

Next year I'm gonna have to go to this pitchforkmedia festival. Even if it's filled with a bunch of bearded assholes who all think they're different/unique/alietnated while they chat bitterly with their oddly similar friends about how lonely they are, the music is good. Well, it's shit I like at least, even if it's shit. That's really the secret to finding happiness. Learning how to love shit and then finding some to roll around in. Why do you think dogs are so happy?

Today I have to pick up my physical form from the clinic in champlin and then go refill my meds. My moms afeared that if I"m left without provigil for a week, I'll lead the little kids astray when I'm at boyscout camp. The worst that could happen if I go to camp without provigil? me turning into an evil maniac because I'm possessed by multiple demons that took me into a land without time to toture me for eternity before bringing my withered soul back to boy scout camp to start swearing aloud in front of little ones. I definitely don't want to be a bad influence, but really, is that so bad? It's not as bad as driving to these places today. Uh, that's going to be annoying. I like driving in my car that lacks air conditioning and all, but traffic disturbs me greatly. Maybe I should try drinking before I go driving to places, the added aggression of my drunken state would definitely help me deal with assholes rolling around on their four wheeled contraptions in order to get back to there lavish homes. If I get my way, these people will all be forced into dirty and cramped apartments that are quite inconveniently placed. I'd make a good city administrator.

I should probably stop using aim. Other people just aren't as entertaining as me. I realized this at a young age and spent a lot of time as a youngster talking to myself, devling into my own little worlds. However, as I matured I was blinded to the truth by the cataracts of false perpspective. I believed everyone else thought they were more interesting then everyone else, so to think of myself as more interesting than everyone else made me a boring loser who was like everyone else. Of course, thinking that realizing you're not special makes you special is a rather normal practice, and thinking that realizing you're not special for realizing you're not speical makes you special is just as absurd. I know I don't want to be like all the other losers because of the time I've spent observing them and all of the stupid/annoying/mundane/unoriginal rituals they practice on a daily basis. I like tedium and all, but theamount present in cases like theirs is just too much. I'd be better served spending my time hitting my head against a blank white wall and masturbating. Well, maybe not, but it wouldn't make much of difference either way. Anyway my point is, why talk to other people online when they're dumbfucks who fail to entertain you and aren't interested in fucking you? I suppose it's ok if they enjoy being talked at by an idiot such as myself. I'm so selfish.

I may have implied that getting people to fuck me is a central goal in my life in that last paragraph, but it's kinda secondary actually. Mainly, I just want to feel sexy enough that people would be interested in fucking me. Whether they actually fuck me or not doesn't matter too much until it comes time to smear my genes all over the future. Right now, I just want reassurance that other people will allow me to smear my genese all over the future. Girls have it easy on this front, even the somewhat unattractive ones are hounded by horny guys who want to fuck them and make this ambition fairly clear to everyone. For some reason, even extremely attractive guys such as myself, don't get hords of horny girls making obvious attempts to fuck them. Well, unless they're irish and have washboard abs to go with charm that just oozes off of their smooth tight skin and toned muscles. This makes me go crazy, cause somehow, I think having a horde of people trying to use me to pleasure themselves would make me feel like I had something to offer the world. Without such a horde to jusify my existence and reassure me that I'll be permitted to continue in my ancestors habit of creating babies to use to travel into the future in some sense or another, all I have to make me feel like I have something to offer are rambling blog entrees, obscene scores in videogame basketball, a talent for music, and the occassional laughter I can stir up amogst my peers.

now, if you'll excuse me, I have to urinate. Maybe I'll talk to myself in public later.

Monday, April 16, 2007

Mon, 16 Apr 2007 01:59:22 GMT

driving in bills van we thought we'd better get some booze
you can't celebrate st. gates day without some proper heavy drinking
but catbeard was fast asleep
and we were all underage
except for the baggirl

so we all turned towards her
she looked uncomfortable
we said we needed some slight assistance

cause this about is about the american dream to get so fucked up you forget you're a loser

please just help us out
we won't cause too much trouble
please just help us out
an arbitrary age shouldn't stop us

from escaping the plague of sobriety
From pursuing our fantasy of indulgence
We just wanted to cut loose
we'd grown tired of thinking straight

she was hesitant at first twitching uncomfortably
until we eased her mind by reveaveling are strong belief
in the neccessity of avoiding the police

just don't screw me over she replied in dry and husky voice
I'm on probation due to dealing mary jane but that's ok

cause this is about the american dream to get so fucked up you forget you're a loser

I'll gladly help you degenerates out
It's kind of my calling in life
I'm always helping scum bags out
at least you seem kind of nice

of course it always starts that way
but then I'm getting used left and right
I just want to give people
a little something
they end up taking everything

she walked into the liquor store swaggering her jagged hips
lucky us lucky us lucky us
she carried out a large brown paper bag filled with captain morgan's precious delights
oh we'd defeated our stupid thinking selves
at least one more time

the american dream was ours

nothing's more important than the american dream to get so fucked up you forget you're a loser